From His Perspective

Chapter 3

James Cantrell enjoyed depositions when he was the attorney deposing the witness. Depending on the particular goal preparing the sequence of questions became one of his favorite art forms. Intimidation was not James’ style. He liked putting the witness at ease. He always let small talk border on the familiar before going on the record. The idea behind a successful deposition stemmed from making the deposed feel super-relaxed.

Today, James sat in his conference room with his client. They prepared for Monday’s deposition. The meeting wasn’t so he could coach his client’s answers as much as coach her on how to answer. He had explained things as simply as he could. Somehow, Mrs. Rollins couldn’t fully comprehend basic deposition rules.

how “You answer only the question asked,” James explained. At nearly seventy years old, Rebecca Rollins struggled to keep things short and sweet. It could prove her downfall. It wasn’t as if she had something to hide, but the more she said, the more she opened herself up to additional lines of questioning by the defense.

“I know. I understand. You’ve told me this a hundred times,” Mrs. Rollins said. She couldn’t keep her hands still. They would lay in her lap for a moment and then she would put them on the table. Her fingers never stopped fidgeting.

“Mrs. Rollins, you need to keep your hands—”

She dropped her hands into her lap, clapping one hand tight over the other. “I know. I’m sorry about that. I just get nervous.”

“That’s okay, Mrs. Rollins.” It was why they were here in the first place. This meeting gave them time for reviewing procedures and topics prior to the actual deposition. “Don’t let that get to you. The important thing is that you remember to only answer the question asked.”

“I know that.” Mrs. Rollins turned up her nose. James knew she felt insulted.

“Okay. Then, let’s try this. Are you ready?”

“What are we doing?” Mrs. Rollins asked.

“Some sample questions.”

“Like a test?” she asked.

He shook his head. Exactly like a test, he thought. “No, Mrs. Rollins. Not a test. I just want to run through some scenarios. This will make both of us feel better about the deposition tomorrow.”

Exactly like a test,Mrs. Rollins nodded. “Fine. I suppose some additional practice can’t hurt. I’m ready. Ask your questions.”

Outside the office window, the rain came down hard. The slate-grey sky looked foreboding at best. A c***k of lightning split the sky and lit the conference room with dark shadows. It gave James an ideal starting point. “Okay. Mrs. Rollins, was it raining when you left your house this morning?” Simple. Basic. She should nail this one with minimal effort.

His client smiled. It was as if she silently asked why he started the questioning with something so easily answered. “I brought my umbrella because I knew it would be raining by lunchtime,” she said. “Not to mention the bones in my feet are so arthritic I knew two days ago it was going to rain today.”

James sighed and sat back in his chair. “Mrs. Rollins—”

“I knew it would be raining by noon and here we are at eleven fifty-five and it has been raining cats and dogs for the last ten minutes now.”

“Mrs. Rollins—”

“You know about my arthritis, Mr. Cantrell. You know I can forecast the weather better than those folks using Doppler on TV.” She pursed her lips. “Sometimes I wonder if all they do is guess? Can you imagine having a job where you can be wrong ninety percent of the time? Meteorologist is just another word for carnival psychic. It’s not a real thing.”

It was as if she knew she’d done something wrong but was not ready to concede a loss. This was another problem. Her rambling rants risked her getting backed into a corner when they were in court. And her inability to admit she knew she was ranting only made matters worse. “Mrs. Rollins, please now. All I asked you was if it had been raining when you left your house this morning.”

if “I know what you asked me.”

“What is the answer.”

“Well, the—”

“Mrs. Rollins, the answer is yes or no. That’s it.” James leaned forward, his elbows propped on the table. He thought his words might have had some bite in them. He regretted the tone used, but she needed to understand the reality of what they faced in the morning. “Mrs. Rollins, when you left your house this morning was it raining?”

His client looked like her closed mouth was wrestling with her tongue. Her lips writhed, but she did not say a word.

“Mrs. Rollins?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No. It wasn"t raining when I left my house this morning.”

James smiled, he nodded, and his shoulders slackened. “Exactly. Okay. You got it. Only answer the question asked. How about this one? Mrs. Rollins, did you have any reason to suspect it might rain today?”

“Of course, I did. I just told you. My arthritis—”

James bit down on his lip and shook his head from side to side. “Mrs. Rollins, the answer is only yes or no. Did you have any reason to suspect it might rain today?”

Again, he watched as his client battled her words inside a closed mouth before she parted her lips and said, “Yes.”

James clapped his hands together, encouragingly. He wanted her to think, Yes, now we’re getting somewhere. They weren’t. Not really. He just wanted her to feel reassured that he was indeed on her side. “Let’s start over. Mrs. Rollins, when you left your house today was it raining?”

Yes, now we’re getting somewhere“No.”

He gave her an inspiring nod. “Mrs. Rollins, did you have any reason to suspect that it might rain today?”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Rollins can you tell me what made you think it might rain today,” James said, and waved a hopeful hand, “and here is where you can tell me about your arthritis.”

A knock at the door interrupted the preparations. The door opened a c***k. One of the firm’s paralegals popped her head into the conference room. “Hate to interrupt, Mr. Cantrell.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “What’s up?”

“There’s an officer in the front lobby who wants to speak with you.”

James pointed at his chest. “With me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Let him know I’ll be right down.” James gave his client a warm smile. “Mrs. Rollins, if you’ll excuse me? You’re doing great. We’ll pick up where we left off after I see what’s what.”

Mrs. Rollins stared at her hands folded together on the conference table. “Am I doing all right?”

James reached across the table and patted the top of her hands. “You’re doing just fine, Mrs. Rollins. Let me go see what the officer wants and then we will go over things one more time and call it a day. Because I think you are all ready for court tomorrow.”

She let her lips curl. “I just don’t want to let you down.”

“This has nothing to do with me, and you are going to do great testifying.” He removed his hand and rose to his feet. “You just pour yourself some coffee. Relax. I’ll be right back.”

* * *

James left Mrs. Rollins alone in the conference room. There was coffee, iced water, and juice. He hoped she took the time to regroup. Testifying was never easy, regardless of whether it was for the plaintiff or the defendant. Lawyers had a way of picking apart any answer offered. Keeping replies as simple as possible, while not always doable, was what both sides always practiced. In court, it was all a crapshoot. Witnesses always carried an air of unpredictability.

James couldn’t shake an unpleasant feeling. The police could only be at the office for the purpose of delivering bad news. When he rounded the corner and saw the officer standing with hands folded in front of him in the waiting area, James’ his stomach rolled.

James’ eyes, instinctively drawn toward the items affixed on the officer’s belt, noticed the flat black grip of a handgun as well as the vibrant yellow grip of the taser. There were leather snap cases holding mace, cuffs, keys and a portable radio. Protruding on the one hip was a black nightstick. Everything about the appearance of the officer screamed intimidation. However, the man in blue wore a pained expression, his brow furrowed and his lips stretched into a single thin line.

The police officer stepped forward. “Mr. Cantrell?”

“That’s me. Yes.”

“Is there somewhere more private we can talk?”

“Can you tell me what this about?” James made eye contact with the front receptionist. Betty joined the small law firm about the same time he had, six years ago.

“Conference room over here is available.” Betty stood up. “If you want to follow me?”

James held up a hand. He didn’t want to be ushered into a conference room. He just wanted his question answered. “Officer?”

The sound of rain hitting the windows should have provided a calming effect. It did not.

James felt his mouth go dry. “Officer?”

“Mr. Cantrell, I’m afraid there has been an accident.”