I was feeling really smug. I had finessed a $150,000 settlement for an alienation of affection suit against Amber's paramour even though such suits are complete bullshit in our state, and hurt him even more where it counted since he had to settle property suits with both of his neighbors. Monday I had had Amber served with divorce papers, and apparently she was devastated. Yeah, I was really smug.
Friday morning the self-satisfied look left my face.
The call from Family Court Judge Susan St. John's chambers rattled me. I thought that I knew all that I needed to know about the relationship between the family court and the criminal court, where I practiced, and the general procedures before family law judges, but that did not include anticipating a call from a judge less than a week after a case was filed. I was acting as my own attorney and suddenly wasn't feeling so sure of myself, so I called up one of my former law school classmates who was practicing family law full time and asked her a few questions. Then I did some more research.
While not the practice everywhere, in my state the family law court is not only completely separate from the criminal court – all the judges, the courthouse, and even the rules are different – but so is the enforcement arm. The family law court deals with the Sheriff's Department. My office deals with the Metropolitan Police. The traditional charity softball game between those two law enforcement branches had to be canceled as of three years ago because the bad blood between them spilled out onto the softball diamond – that will give you an idea of their relationship.
Even though the old adage that "A lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client" has a lot of truth to it, I did not hire someone else because no one else would exhibit the brass balls or mental toughness that I was willing to exhibit – it would jeopardize his or her career, and they simply would have been unwilling to do what I knew needed to be done.
Amber was being represented by Compton, Gerald, and Casey, the biggest, most expensive old fart law firm in the state, not just City X. They were politically connected to almost every legislator on both sides of the isle, the Mayor, and the Governor. Despite Amber's wealth I knew that MegaBank money was behind this – I had a feeling that the president of MegaBank wanted this to go away and Compton, Gerald and Casey were on retainer by MegaBank.
When I entered the courtroom there sat forlorn, beautiful, tastefully dressed, Amber Miller (we both kept our pre-married last names when we wed). She tried, unsuccessfully, to make eye contact with me. The other side had three attorneys – what in the hell they needed three for, I don't know.
Their lead attorney was the head of the Family Law Department at the old fart firm, Jim Casey, the younger brother of one of the name partners. He walked over to me before the Judge arrived and said "Mr. Westin, so glad to meet you, I'm Jim Casey," extending his hand. I wanted him to know from the start what this case was going to be like.
"I know who you are Mr. Casey. If I were here as an attorney I would feel compelled by professional etiquette to shake your hand and engage you in a pleasant conversation. However, I am here as a wronged party in a divorce, cheated upon by my wife who now just wants to save some of her money. As such I decline any attempt at collegiality between us. This will be a street fight unless she capitulates, and I fight dirty." After that little speech I sat down. Casey was frozen in his place for a few seconds before shuffling back to his seat. I do believe that Amber heard me because I heard sniffles from the other side of the aisle, but I didn't look over to confirm.
I started out the hearing by speaking. "Mr. Westin, the request for an emergency hearing was made by Mrs. Miller, not by you, therefore you will have to let them go first," Judge Susan St. John chided me.
"Normally I would respect that, your honor, but I want something clear from the start. I don't want the fees she is paying to have three attorneys from the highest priced law firm in the city wasting her holdings so that when I get the 50% that I am entitled to that the amount has been greatly diminished. I want it understood from the start that it is her holdings as of Monday's date of service – not after she had retained Mr. Casey's law firm – that determines what the pie to be split is."
"Mr. Westin, you're getting way ahead of yourself here. I haven't even decided if there is any need for a divorce, so sit down and let Mr. Casey speak," the judge impatiently said.
I knew right then that the "fix" was in.
Casey made a heartfelt speech about how there was some misunderstanding and that Mrs. Miller had always been a good wife and economically supported her husband and was devastated by this turn of events, and that clearly the Court should not let the marriage dissolve without all attempts possible to save it, and that Mrs. Miller wanted the Court to order counselling and was willing to pay for it from her part of any division of assets that was made if the tragedy of divorce ever occurred.
The judge looked like she was ready to rule. "Wait," I impolitely yelled. "I haven't been heard."
"What is it, Mr. Westin," she impatiently said.
"I don't want counselling, I want out of this marriage, there is no one on earth that is going to convince me not to go through with this divorce; the only question is how much each of us gets. I don't agree to counseling so don't order it," words that an attorney that had to appear before her again would never use.
"I'm the one who makes decisions, not you Mr. Westin. I'm ordering six months of counseling Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, then we'll address the merits if there is any reason to at that time," she barked, and then she banged her gavel.
"Wait one second – I realize that this is a kangaroo court but I have something to say," I said jumping up.
"How dare you, Mr. Westin – do you want a contempt citation?" she snarled.
"If it keeps me out of counselling that would be great. One thing that you have not considered is that I am the DA of this fine city. I prosecute criminals at the behest of and for the protection of its citizens, including you, Mr. Casey, and my soon-to-be ex-wife. I can't make Tuesday and Thursday afternoon counseling sessions, and your own guidelines call for Saturday counseling for no more than two months, so you order is in violation of your own procedures," I got out before she interrupted.
"Those are only guidelines, and here more is necessary. You can work with your wife for a suitable schedule but she needs to agree to it," the judge snapped. "I'll hold you in contempt if you don't show up and have you arrested."
"Let there be no mistake. Now, talking as the DA, with the Court Reporter transcribing it, I hereby advise you and everyone else here or privy to the record that if any attorney in my office is arrested for failure to appear at a counseling session that isn't on a weekend or after two months of counseling have passed anyone associated with the arrest will themselves be arrested by the Metropolitan Police for obstruction of justice and my office will prosecute," I said in my most authoritative and snarky voice.
With that I collected my papers, got up, and turned to leave; as I did so I saw the absolutely shocked faces of everyone on the other side of the aisle. It looked like Casey was seconds away from a coronary; Amber was simply gap-jawed.
I had actually entered the aisle before Judge St. John yelled "Are you threatening me Mr. Westin?"
I replied, this time in a respectful tone, "No, I was just making the position of the Office of the DA in City X clear. Do I need to be here any longer?"
I could see steam coming out of her ears. I just stood there as she glared at me for a good half minute before she said "I'll issue my order today and it WILL be obeyed," then slammed her gavel down again and stormed out as the startled bailiff announced "Court's adjourned."
Apparently Judge St. John didn't believe me. She sent out an order – a copy hand delivered to me at my office – that afternoon setting mandatory counselling sessions every Tuesday and Thursday for six months, starting just four days from then – at 3 p.m. in a suburb about ten miles from my office. I knew what was coming so I asked the Chief of Police to come to my office Monday morning.
Chief Matson was a grizzled veteran. He had seen it all – except what I was about to discuss with him. He and I had had a good relationship even when I was a Public Defender because I was always respectful toward him and valued his opinion. As DA he knew that I was a no nonsense law and order type who would back his cops unless there was real malfeasance.
I told him what I wanted, and who I wanted to help me.
"Are you sure about this Brad?" he asked after expelling a whistle. "I've never heard of anything like this before. You're poking a beehive."
"Chief, I probably have never told you but I washed out of the SEALs only a few days before the conclusion of the weeding out process because I wasn't mentally tough enough. I vowed that it would never happen again. This is just as important to me as getting into the SEALs was, and I'm not going to wash out again. Will you ask Hampton and Suritz to help me?"
Hampton and Suritz were two really tough cops, one in Vice, the other in Homicide. They got into an altercation with Sherriff's deputies at the annual charity softball game three years ago. It was that altercation that led to the game being permanently canceled.
Chief Matson stared at me a few seconds more, chuckled, stood up, shook my hand and said "OK – good luck!"
When I talked to Hampton and Suritz that afternoon they were about as enthusiastic as anyone I'd ever seen – you would have thought that I had just given them an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii rather than asking them for their help in arresting people in the law enforcement community.
After I didn't show up at the mandatory counselling session on Tuesday the counselor called me. I told her that I had made it clear that I was never showing up to a weekday counseling session. She called again when I didn't show Thursday and I asked her what part of our last conversation she didn't understand. She said that she would report it to the Court.
From my little mole in the Family Court I found, as expected, that by 9 a. m. on Friday Judge St. John had ordered my arrest by the Sheriff's Department but that they would wait until just before the end of the day to arrest me so that I'd have to spend the weekend in jail. I pre-empted them and showed up at the Sheriff's office at noon, told him that I was leaving for the weekend in ten minutes so if he had anything to say to me he had to say it now.
The Sheriff handed me the arrest order from Judge St. John and had a nearby deputy arrest me. I advised the deputy that if he did he was obstructing justice and he would be arrested by the police. He went ahead anyway.
A friend, who was a criminal attorney, was waiting right there. He made a call as soon as I was arrested and over the phone gave the party at the other end of the line the name of the deputy sheriff who had arrested me. Within an hour after my arrest was processed my friend got me released on my own recognizance.
As I was about to leave the Sheriff's Office, Hampton and Suritz arrived with an arrest warrant for the Deputy and big smiles on their faces as they chuckled "Good afternoon, Mr. D. A." I just smiled back. I didn't stay around. I could hear the yelling even after I reached the sidewalk and just chortled to myself, thinking that that was only mild compared to what would occur when they arrested Judge St. John.
Friday at 6:00 p. m. I got a frantic call from the Mayor himself. "Brad, what in the hell is going on? You had a deputy sheriff and a family court judge arrested? Are you insane?"
