Wilson Renegade Barrister

Bobby's Trials, Book Two
1. Auflage 2011
ISBN: 978-1-61842-476-1
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 201 Seiten

My law practice was a general practice - and I never knew who or what was going to walk through our door next. A murder case, child custody matter, or some unsolved mystery. Some were minor cases - others were major cases that were to make new law in the State of Texas after review by some of the highest courts in the land. In writing this book, which is as much about what happened to some of my fortunate and unfortunate clients as happened to me - I try to tell their unusual stories in layman's language and how their experiences with our legal system changed all our lives. The judicial process, whether it is criminal or civil in nature, can and does fundamentally change a person's life. The parties involved may feel that justice prevailed or justice was denied in their case. The actions or in-actions of their legal counsel often make the difference between a just or unjust outcome. Our system of justice is not self-correcting - it is a never-ending struggle between the weak and the powerful; whether they are governmental agencies and large corporations.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Wilson, Bobby

Leseproben

If there were no bad people there would be no good lawyers. Charles Dickens   2 Law Schools do not teach a lawyer how to manage and operate a law office. He or she either goes to work for a firm that already has in place a management team and office procedures, or, the new practitioner learns law office management and procedures through experience – which can have an expensive and stressful learning curve. I had turned down opportunities to work for established law firms – which was probably a mistake since I needed some role models in office management. I started keeping my eyes on our office bank bag. I was watching for missing cash. It did not take long to discover that more cash was coming into my office than was being deposited into our various bank accounts. Unlike many business owners, I never removed cash from my cash receipts and all revenue coming into my office was to be deposited at our bank. To do otherwise was an invitation for the office staff to also help themselves and tax problems with the IRS caused by an unhappy employee or client looking for revenge. I made it my office policy not to cheat on my taxes or flirt with the office personnel. I had learned while working in the grocery business to keep my meat and potatoes separate, unless you wanted an old flame to turn on you one day and cause you great pain and embarrassment. Such behavior had ruined many a lawyer or other professional. I also wanted no problems with the tax people. It was still a mystery to me about who was the guilty party or parties. It was possible that two or more of my staff were in cahoots. Jean, my office manager was married to a Pentecostal preacher and had two teenage children. Her husband sold life insurance part-time to bring in extra income. She had money problems, but had freely told me and had actually borrowed several hundred dollars from me weeks earlier to supposedly help them with their mortgage payments. She dressed conservatively in the Pentecostal manner and seemed to be a deeply religious person. She was an excellent legal assistant with a vast knowledge of real estate and domestic relations law; I wanted very much to dismiss her as a suspect, because she was vital to my office. Harriet was a quiet hardworking secretary who was married to a retired engineer. She did not appear to have any money problems; and was too timid for me to suspect her of being a thief. She did not seem to have the nerve for it. That left Jill, the receptionist, who was the person who accepted our clients’ payments, wrote receipts, credited their accounts, and then turned the checks and cash over to Jean to make the daily bank deposits. She was the first to handle the cash and she could easily just credit the clients’ accounts and stick some of any cash payments into her pocket and Jean would not even be aware of the missing money. She was the prime suspect, especially since I had learned that she was spending money for gifts on her various boyfriends without her husband’s knowledge. I needed to be sure before I accused anyone, so I called a client I trusted and asked him to do me a favor. Bring one hundred twenty dollars in cash to my office tomorrow and pay it on his account. I told him to write in small red letters his date of birth on each bill and make sure he got a receipt for his cash payment at my office. All three of my employees had their personal bank accounts at the same bank as our office’s business accounts. I called our bank and talked to the president and told him in confidence the problem I had and he agreed to have his staff keep separate envelopes of all deposits made by my office and any deposits made by my three employees. My trap was set, now I waited to see who got caught. It did not take long. The following afternoon, after the office closed, I looked in the bank bag at that day’s deposit slips and discovered only twenty dollars in cash had been deposited into the office accounts, everything else deposited were checks. I called the bank president who was waiting for my call. His deposit envelopes told the tale. The twenty dollars cash deposited that day revealed the red lettered date of birth. Only one of my employees had made a deposit into their bank accounts that day, and that was Jean. She had deposited one hundred dollars in cash, the bills each having the telltale red date of birth written on them. A sick feeling ran through my stomach, which turned to anger when I remembered I had fully trusted her and had freely loaned her money in the past, which she had never repaid. I felt like a man who had caught his wife with another man; utter betrayal. I had no idea how much money had been stolen, but I suspected it could be quite large, since Jean had worked for me almost a year and much cash had passed through our office during that time. Now, I knew why it seemed that the harder I worked the less money I made at the end of each month - Jean was my silent partner. I called my CPA and requested him to perform a secret audit of my office’s cash receipts as compared with actual cash deposited in our bank accounts over the past six months. The audit was to be done afterhours and on the weekends to avoid my staff knowing about it. It would take a week to complete. Needless to say, it was a long and uncomfortable week. My staff knew something was afoot, but no one said anything. And, since in real life, when it rains it pours, I received a phone call from the wife of my office janitor. She told me that he had suffered a heart attack and was now totally and permanently disabled. He had cleaned our office every weekday night; I now had to deal with that vacancy. When I informed the ladies of the office about our lack of a janitor, Jean immediately volunteered to take over the cleaning responsibility for the same pay as the janitor since she needed extra income. That put me on the spot, which is what she wanted to do. If I told her “no”, she would know I was on to her; if I said “yes”, she would have an excuse to come and go from the office at night when the auditor was working. “O.K,” I said, “but, our CPA will be working at night on our books trying to determine if we need to incorporate our business for tax purposes, so you will have to clean around him while he works.” I don’t think I fooled anyone, even though my statement was partially true. The office became quite somber and quiet for the remainder of the week and I noticed that Jean’s cleaning efforts were half-hearted at best. The CPA finished his audit that Friday night and announced to me after hours his startling findings – forty thousand dollars in missing cash! I talked the matter over with the CPA and he was confident that, if necessary, his audit would withstand any legal challenges. Jean had not cleaned that particular Friday night due to her church duties, or so she said. It was just as well that she was not there when I heard the bad news; I would have fired her on the spot. She had requested and received my permission to be allowed to clean the office the next day, which was Saturday. I spent that night drafting an agreement between Jean and I, in which she confessed to her theft. She would repay the stolen funds over a certain time period or I would turn the matter over to the local D. A. for prosecution. I planned to confront Jean when she came into the office to clean Saturday night. That night and following morning passed very slowly. Finally, at seven o’clock Saturday night I heard Jean’s voice talking to her fifteen-year-old daughter as they walked in the front door of my office. I waited in my office as I heard the vacuum cleaner start growling as it headed for my office. I wondered why she had her daughter with her, which was unusual when she cleaned. My office door slowly opened and the cute teenager stuck her head through the partially open door and asked sweetly if she could clean my office. “Where is Jean?” I asked. “Oh, she did not feel well and dropped me off to clean the office and said to call my dad when I was done and ready to go home.” “Oh, I see,” was all the answer I could muster. “Come on in and don’t mind me, I am used to working around noise.” An uneasy feeling came over me. Sidney pushed open the door and backed into my office all the while pushing the vacuum cleaner back and forth. I was shocked to see she was wearing nothing but short shorts and a skimpy halter-top. I knew Pentecostals did not wear that type of attire, ever. This woman/child was fully developed and proud of her assets. I tried to avoid starring at her as she moved closer and closer to where I sat. She was soon leaning over my desk showing me her considerable cleavage while working her spray bottle and cleaning cloth. She looked into my eyes like a temptress and moved around the desk until she was within easy reach. The alarms started ringing in my head…this is a set-up; get the hell out. I quickly arose, “I think I am going to call it a night, Sidney, have your parents lock up after you are finished cleaning.” She looked surprised and unsure of what to say. I did not wait for her reply and kept moving until I was at the nearest public watering hole. “Wow, that was a close one,” I said out loud as I tasted the cool Weller and Water make its way down my scratchy throat. I now realized for the first time that I was not dealing with the God-fearing people I thought they were, but with pure evilness; people who were willing to use their...