of the reasons I’m here.” He paused, and Kelly noticed his lip tremble a little. “She says she’s not worried. She says there’s a federal law protecting manufacturers from lawsuits like this one. There’s no remorse about her gun being used in this crime. It’s almost like she’s proud of it.”
The short speech made Kelly realize again how much she wanted to file this case. A crusader needed a crusade. And here was a decent man whose life had been torn apart through no fault of his own. Her heart ached for him.
“There is a federal law,” Kelly said. “It’s called the Protection of Lawful Commerce in Arms Act. It protects dealers and manufacturers from getting sued if a firearm operates the way it was intended and causes injury through criminal activity. But a few courts have declared it unconstitutional. Plus, there is one very important exception.”
Kelly turned to the statute and read the exact language—every word mattered. “This act does not include ‘an action in which a manufacturer or seller of a qualified product knowingly violated a State or Federal statute applicable to the sale or marketing of the product.’”
She looked up at Blake and thought maybe she detected a thin ray of hope. Family members of victims often tried to find a larger meaning in the death of a loved one. A cause. A greater good.
“I know a lawsuit won’t bring her back,” Blake said. “But maybe it will prevent someone else from going through the hell I’m going through. Maybe it will make Melissa Davids think twice about selling guns to places like Peninsula Arms or this other dealer you mentioned. I just need to know we’re not tilting at windmills.”
Kelly resisted the urge to tell him that tilting at windmills was her specialty. This case wasn’t hopeless. Other crusaders had prevailed on similar facts.
“Remember the D.C. area snipers?”
“Yeah.”
“They got their gun through a straw purchase as well. Bull’s Eye Shooter Supply ran such a shoddy operation that it couldn’t even find the paperwork for 238 guns it sold, including the Bushmaster assault rifle used by John Allen Mohammad and Lee Malvo. The victims filed suit against both Bull’s Eye and the gun manufacturer. They settled for $2.5 million.”
Blake considered this for a moment, studying his hands. When he looked up at Kelly, she saw big tears pooling in his eyes.
“I know you hear this all the time,” he said. “But it’s not about the money. If we file suit—and I still haven’t decided to do it—but if we do… we’re not going to settle.”
Kelly had been litigating at B&W for five years. Every client swore it was a matter of principle. For most, the principle that mattered most was the amount of money the other side offered in settlement. She sensed that Blake might be an exception.
“A case like this won’t be easy,” she said. “It could take years. You and I will be ruthlessly attacked by the NRA and their affiliates.” She paused to emphasize the seriousness of her warning. “Are you ready for that?”
In response, Blake reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and retrieved a small piece of folded paper with a grainy brown and white image on it. He gently unfolded the paper and slid it across the table.
“Here.” He rotated the paper, and the image became clear. It was a 3-D ultrasound. The small baby inside Rachel’s womb was in the traditional upside-down fetal position, looking cozy and content.
The image rocked Kelly. “How far along?”
“Twenty-two weeks.”
Kelly hesitated, trying to divorce her personal life from her professional one. She needed to focus on Blake and Rachel. “Did you know if it was a girl or a boy?”
“A little girl.”
“Had you picked out a
The short speech made Kelly realize again how much she wanted to file this case. A crusader needed a crusade. And here was a decent man whose life had been torn apart through no fault of his own. Her heart ached for him.
“There is a federal law,” Kelly said. “It’s called the Protection of Lawful Commerce in Arms Act. It protects dealers and manufacturers from getting sued if a firearm operates the way it was intended and causes injury through criminal activity. But a few courts have declared it unconstitutional. Plus, there is one very important exception.”
Kelly turned to the statute and read the exact language—every word mattered. “This act does not include ‘an action in which a manufacturer or seller of a qualified product knowingly violated a State or Federal statute applicable to the sale or marketing of the product.’”
She looked up at Blake and thought maybe she detected a thin ray of hope. Family members of victims often tried to find a larger meaning in the death of a loved one. A cause. A greater good.
“I know a lawsuit won’t bring her back,” Blake said. “But maybe it will prevent someone else from going through the hell I’m going through. Maybe it will make Melissa Davids think twice about selling guns to places like Peninsula Arms or this other dealer you mentioned. I just need to know we’re not tilting at windmills.”
Kelly resisted the urge to tell him that tilting at windmills was her specialty. This case wasn’t hopeless. Other crusaders had prevailed on similar facts.
“Remember the D.C. area snipers?”
“Yeah.”
“They got their gun through a straw purchase as well. Bull’s Eye Shooter Supply ran such a shoddy operation that it couldn’t even find the paperwork for 238 guns it sold, including the Bushmaster assault rifle used by John Allen Mohammad and Lee Malvo. The victims filed suit against both Bull’s Eye and the gun manufacturer. They settled for $2.5 million.”
Blake considered this for a moment, studying his hands. When he looked up at Kelly, she saw big tears pooling in his eyes.
“I know you hear this all the time,” he said. “But it’s not about the money. If we file suit—and I still haven’t decided to do it—but if we do… we’re not going to settle.”
Kelly had been litigating at B&W for five years. Every client swore it was a matter of principle. For most, the principle that mattered most was the amount of money the other side offered in settlement. She sensed that Blake might be an exception.
“A case like this won’t be easy,” she said. “It could take years. You and I will be ruthlessly attacked by the NRA and their affiliates.” She paused to emphasize the seriousness of her warning. “Are you ready for that?”
In response, Blake reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and retrieved a small piece of folded paper with a grainy brown and white image on it. He gently unfolded the paper and slid it across the table.
“Here.” He rotated the paper, and the image became clear. It was a 3-D ultrasound. The small baby inside Rachel’s womb was in the traditional upside-down fetal position, looking cozy and content.
The image rocked Kelly. “How far along?”
“Twenty-two weeks.”
Kelly hesitated, trying to divorce her personal life from her professional one. She needed to focus on Blake and Rachel. “Did you know if it was a girl or a boy?”
“A little girl.”
“Had you picked out a
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