October 2007

A Lawyer’s Game of Clue

by Jeff Tolman
 
I walked on the ferry heading home to Laurie and the kids. A young woman seated near a window smiled and said “Hi!” Her face was familiar. Clearly she considered us well-acquainted. As I looked at her more, I realized that we had spent many hours together. She was a former client whose face I remembered, whose name I didn’t.

She signaled me over.

I sat down uncomfortably.

“How are you, Jeff?” she asked.

“Fine,” I responded, and, for reasons only a good psychiatrist could answer, flashed back to one of Chris and Andy’s favorite games: Clue. You know, “Colonel Mustard did it with the candlestick in the library.” Suddenly, I was playing real life Clue, trying to decipher who this client was. I couldn’t let her know I had no idea as to her identity. I had probably made a good fee off her case, and developed a good rapport. Certainly my recollections of her were positive. Her case was, however, months or years ago, and hundreds of clients ago. To my chagrin, her name absolutely escaped me.

I couldn’t let her know that lawyers remember case facts more than client names. That’s one of our profession’s dirty little secrets. If she had said, “2003 Lexus, $3,000 damage, intersection of Kirk and Franz, Officer Crane investigated, care through Dr. Preston,” I could have talked about her case the whole ferry ride — though still not knowing her name. She’d never understand, and would believe that I was a here-today, gone-tomorrow sort of lawyer and friend. All I could do was to feign familiarity and remember how to play Clue.

“It’s been a long time. How are you?” I asked, hoping that she would reveal something about her case.

“Fine,” she said. “My elbow has healed fine.”

“ELBOW!” I thought.

“Good,” I said, “Have you been back to the scene of the accident?”

She looked at me oddly. “No,” she said finally, “I’m not allowed on Puget Sound Naval Shipyard anymore, since I don’t work there. I thought I told you I was going to go back to school.”

“ELBOW. PSNS.”

“I wonder if Mrs. McCovey is still driving. She shouldn’t be,” she continued.

“ELBOW. PSNS. BAD DRIVER NAMED McCOVEY.”

After several moments of unproductive chatter, I asked, “How is your family?”

I struck gold. “Fine,” she answered. “Dad says he saw you at Market Foods a while back; that you and he were both grilling steaks that night.”

My mind began moving at light speed. Whose father? What man had I seen recently at Market Foods? Who did I discuss grilling steaks with? Suddenly his face flashed in my head. Jim Smith! This is Jim Smith’s daughter!

“JIM SMITH’S DAUGHTER. ELBOW. PSNS. BAD DRIVER NAMED McCOVEY.”

The facts poured into my brain. This client had been struck in a crosswalk at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard by an inattentive elderly woman driver named Elsie McCovey. My client had hit her elbow in the driver’s door and fractured it. We’d settled the case for $50,000 policy limits. That was more money than my client had ever seen and, as a result, she had referred two good PI cases to me.

“JIM SMITH’S DAUGHTER. HER NAME IS PAM LARSON!” It all flowed back.

“So, Pam, how are you . . .” I asked, and as we chatted like old friends, I could hardly wait to get home. Maybe Chris and Andy would play me a game of Clue. I was warmed up now and ready to go. 

Jeff Tolman is a former member of the WBSA Board of Governors and practices in Poulsbo.