Hansel’s criminal past and affected his credibility before us. Apparently, his transcripts submitted to enter law school were forged, and his continuing association with Attorney Koontz before, during and after your disciplinary matters has led us to believe that you have been wrongly accused of unethical conduct.
“ Accordingly, your previous suspension has been expunged from your record and you are now reinstated to the active practice of law in the State of California, said rein-statement to be considered retroactive, back to the date of your original wrongful suspension. Furthermore, we have decided that new disciplinary proceedings should be instituted against Attorney Koontz.
“ You will be notified if your testimony is required at his disciplinary hearing and if so notified, we expect your cooperation in full without the need of a formal subpoena.
“ That’s all Mister Sharp. This hearing is now concluded.”
That’s it. He bangs the gavel down and the panel of judges all get up and walk out of the room.
*****
Chapter 6
My head is reeling. Can this really be happening? The Sergeant at Arms slides a document in front of me and gives me some instructions.
“ If you would please sign this standard agreement releasing the California State Bar from any liability for its past handling of this disciplinary matter, your reinstatement as an active member of the California State Bar in good standing to practice law will be effective immediately.” I knew there would probably be a string attached, but I don’t care. I don’t even read the statement. I seem to remember signing it.
Everything that’s happening now is just a blur. I must have signed the document, thanked him, and walked out of the room. At least I hope that’s what I did. All I know is that I’m now in my rented Hummer, driving back to the Marina with a CD blasting. I’m singing a duet with Frank Sinatra. The song is That’s Life .
L. Martin sure did get the job done. I can’t wait to meet him because an in-person thank-you should definitely be made… and to Melvin too. Evidently the info I turned in about Ricky Hansel working with Koontz panned out. I don’t know who did the rest of the investigation, found Jack B. the mailbox clerk, served the subpoenas and made the case airtight, but whoever did it pulled off a bang-up job and I’m forever grateful. When the Bar’s through with Koontz, my wife will probably be looking for another jerk to represent her. She should have no problem. There’s no shortage of them out there.
A celebration is definitely called for now, so on the way back to the Marina I stop off at Mi Ranchito, a gourmet Mexican restaurant on Washington Boulevard just east of Centinela, and order the most expensive burrito on the menu, along with several topless Patrón Margaritas. The first time I heard that description, I thought that it was the waitress being described, but as usual, I was wrong. With respect to Margaritas, all it means is without salt on the rim of the glass, and has absolutely nothing to do with the waitress’ attire. And that’s a good thing, because today the owner’s morbidly obese wife has been bringing my drinks to the booth.
After about 32 ounces of Patrón Margaritas I’m partially anesthetized, so I have them call a cab for me. I can always come back for the rental car tomorrow.
As the dock gate slams behind me and I happily stroll down the ramp to the dock I’m in a weakened state and have no energy to resist the abduction as Laverne grabs my arm.
--------------
I must have had a good time last night. All I can remember is that I made a wonderful discovery concerning the reverse correlation between alcohol and aging.
In my eyes, every Margarita I drank erased ten years from Laverne’s appearance, so I was able to journey backward in time and sleep with a very, very young Laverne. Unfortunately the magic spell only lasts as long as the Margaritas, so the sobering-up process
“ Accordingly, your previous suspension has been expunged from your record and you are now reinstated to the active practice of law in the State of California, said rein-statement to be considered retroactive, back to the date of your original wrongful suspension. Furthermore, we have decided that new disciplinary proceedings should be instituted against Attorney Koontz.
“ You will be notified if your testimony is required at his disciplinary hearing and if so notified, we expect your cooperation in full without the need of a formal subpoena.
“ That’s all Mister Sharp. This hearing is now concluded.”
That’s it. He bangs the gavel down and the panel of judges all get up and walk out of the room.
*****
Chapter 6
My head is reeling. Can this really be happening? The Sergeant at Arms slides a document in front of me and gives me some instructions.
“ If you would please sign this standard agreement releasing the California State Bar from any liability for its past handling of this disciplinary matter, your reinstatement as an active member of the California State Bar in good standing to practice law will be effective immediately.” I knew there would probably be a string attached, but I don’t care. I don’t even read the statement. I seem to remember signing it.
Everything that’s happening now is just a blur. I must have signed the document, thanked him, and walked out of the room. At least I hope that’s what I did. All I know is that I’m now in my rented Hummer, driving back to the Marina with a CD blasting. I’m singing a duet with Frank Sinatra. The song is That’s Life .
L. Martin sure did get the job done. I can’t wait to meet him because an in-person thank-you should definitely be made… and to Melvin too. Evidently the info I turned in about Ricky Hansel working with Koontz panned out. I don’t know who did the rest of the investigation, found Jack B. the mailbox clerk, served the subpoenas and made the case airtight, but whoever did it pulled off a bang-up job and I’m forever grateful. When the Bar’s through with Koontz, my wife will probably be looking for another jerk to represent her. She should have no problem. There’s no shortage of them out there.
A celebration is definitely called for now, so on the way back to the Marina I stop off at Mi Ranchito, a gourmet Mexican restaurant on Washington Boulevard just east of Centinela, and order the most expensive burrito on the menu, along with several topless Patrón Margaritas. The first time I heard that description, I thought that it was the waitress being described, but as usual, I was wrong. With respect to Margaritas, all it means is without salt on the rim of the glass, and has absolutely nothing to do with the waitress’ attire. And that’s a good thing, because today the owner’s morbidly obese wife has been bringing my drinks to the booth.
After about 32 ounces of Patrón Margaritas I’m partially anesthetized, so I have them call a cab for me. I can always come back for the rental car tomorrow.
As the dock gate slams behind me and I happily stroll down the ramp to the dock I’m in a weakened state and have no energy to resist the abduction as Laverne grabs my arm.
--------------
I must have had a good time last night. All I can remember is that I made a wonderful discovery concerning the reverse correlation between alcohol and aging.
In my eyes, every Margarita I drank erased ten years from Laverne’s appearance, so I was able to journey backward in time and sleep with a very, very young Laverne. Unfortunately the magic spell only lasts as long as the Margaritas, so the sobering-up process
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