{"id":692,"date":"2009-11-20T18:48:38","date_gmt":"2009-11-20T23:48:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=692"},"modified":"2009-11-21T23:57:08","modified_gmt":"2009-11-22T04:57:08","slug":"tales-from-the-legal-trenches","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=692","title":{"rendered":"Tales From The (Legal) Trenches"},"content":{"rendered":"

photo-2-small.JPG<\/a><\/p>\n

It is unfair to believe everything we hear about lawyers.
\nSome of it might not be true.<\/p>\n

—Gerald F. Lieberman
\n__________________<\/p>\n

You\u2019d never know it, just being around me. As most of my customers don\u2019t. I never tell them. That I am an attorney. Fully licensed in PA. I\u2019m just common old Joe Schmoe. Pleasant. Cheerful. Accommodating. I can even dredge up a passable chuckle at the same tired old attorney jokes every time they\u2019re trotted out. And believe me, I\u2019ve heard them all. <\/p>\n

I don\u2019t do much anymore, of the legal work. Mostly write wills for the Amish here in Lancaster County. Word of mouth gets me a number of clients each year. Works for me. Produce something tangible, and get paid for it. Otherwise, the system is so adversarial, so parasitic, so contentious that I left it years ago. The stress, and the seeming lack of tangible accomplishment, got to me. So far, no regrets. <\/p>\n

But once in awhile, in the course of my duties as general manager of Graber Supply, it does become necessary to strip the veil. To show my true colors. Mostly that happens when customers can\u2019t or won\u2019t pay their bills. After I\u2019ve cajoled them. After they\u2019ve promised for the tenth time the check is in the mail. And it isn\u2019t. About then they receive a very official looking letter, complete with all the legalese. Pay up. Or else I\u2019ll see you in court. Signed: Ira Wagler, Esquire. General Counsel. <\/p>\n

The letter works most of the time. But not always. And then, after some months of patient, if sporadic persistence, I head off to the small claims court. File a Complaint. <\/p>\n

Yep. I sue. Without even the slightest tinge of conscience. A contract is a contract. And in PA, an uncontested debt is voided after two years. So the window for action is fairly limited. <\/p>\n

It doesn\u2019t happen often. At most, maybe twice a year. Oddly, the people I go after are usually Amish or Mennonite. Plain people. Or at least from that background. It\u2019s strange. Maybe they think I\u2019ll just let it slide. From their actions, or lack thereof, that\u2019s what they must think. Either that, or if they ignore the problem long enough, it will just go away. It won\u2019t. As some few of them have learned the hard way. <\/p>\n

I do have a little trick up my sleeve. If you make me come after you, I\u2019ll sue your business. And you personally. And your wife. All the names I can throw in there, I will. Whatever sticks, sticks. Whatever doesn\u2019t, the judge can remove. <\/p>\n

I figure most of the time, the slackers\u2019 wives aren\u2019t even aware of what\u2019s going on in the business. If a guy won\u2019t pay his bills, he may well be hiding that fact from his wife. Might as well do my part to inform her. It\u2019s got to be a rude awakening, to be served papers stating that you are being sued in court for an overdue debt. <\/p>\n

But mostly, I want the wife included in the suit because if we win a judgment, we can have the sheriff go in and sell their stuff. All marital property. Furniture. Fixtures. Tools. Vehicles. Even clothes. Not that we ever have. But it makes for a pretty hefty bargaining chip. Can\u2019t be ignored, like before.<\/p>\n

Last summer, I went after a local Amish guy. He\u2019d merrily purchased a lot of building materials during the previous year. Seemed like a decent guy, with his fingers in a lot of projects. He paid on time. Until all of a sudden, after running up over ten thousand dollars in bills, he just disappeared. <\/p>\n

It was not a good situation. We sent monthly statements. Called. Patrick even stopped out at his house a time or two. No luck at anything. The guy wasn\u2019t around and he was sure not making himself available. After a series of increasingly threatening letters, I finally took his case to small claims. Filed suit. Against his business. Him. And his wife. We waited. <\/p>\n

Within a week, a desperate call from the wife. She must have talked to her attorney. Could we please remove her from the suit? We were firm, but kind. Can\u2019t do it. After we get a judgment, we\u2019ll negotiate. But until then, we have to do what we have to do. The poor goodwife sighed and wept. She was expecting their third child shortly, she claimed. With all this stress, and her husband\u2019s multitude of debt, she didn\u2019t quite know where to turn. <\/p>\n

I felt sorry for her. And even more irritated at her husband. Putting her through all that. She filed notice that she would attend the hearing to defend herself. And try to get herself removed from the proceedings. <\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s all I need,\u201d I grumbled to Pat. \u201cSome poor weeping destitute Amish housewife, showing up to tug at the judge\u2019s heartstrings. I won\u2019t have a chance.\u201d <\/p>\n

On the day of the hearing, I sallied forth. Arrived a few minutes early, as usual. And there she sat, in the waiting area. Plump, pretty, thirtyish, heavy with child. No attorney. Most small claims cases are pretty informal. An English neighbor had brought her. Her husband was nowhere to be seen. I greeted her kindly. We chatted. She fluttered about, extremely nervous. No, terrified. We waited. And then the judge received us in the courtroom. <\/p>\n

I sat at a table in front and to the left of the judge, she at a table on the right. The judge, a stern lady, sat behind her bench, robed, imposing. She recited the caption of the case. Graber Supply vs. ____. A suit for collection of unpaid debt. <\/p>\n

The judge looked to me to begin. I was the plaintiff, the one bringing the suit. But before I could proceed, the Amish housewife interrupted. <\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, please, may I speak?\u201d She implored, rising to her feet. She trembled with tension and fear. The judge nodded. \u201cI\u2019m not here to dispute that the money is owed. It is owed, every penny of it. All I ask is that I be removed from the lawsuit. Please.\u201d She suddenly burst into tears, short chopping sobs. <\/p>\n

The judge was gracious. \u201cYou\u2019ll have your chance,\u201d she said kindly. \u201cLet Mr. Wagler go first, then you can say what you want.\u201d The poor woman nodded and sat down again, vainly trying to muffle her sobs with a twisted knot of a handkerchief already soaked with tears.<\/p>\n

It was my turn. I plunged in. Gave the judge copies of past due invoices. Briefly stated how the husband had purchased building materials over the past year. And not paid. He wouldn\u2019t talk to us, or respond in any way to our requests for payment. Or even come to the door when we stopped by. This action was our last resort. And, I said, since the wife had also benefited from the husband\u2019s business, it was only right that she should be included. I asked the judge to keep her in. <\/p>\n

Then it was her turn. In this terrifying moment, in this hostile frightening world, a gentle helpless lamb trapped in a den of lean and hungry lions, she struggled visibly for the inner strength for words to convey what she had come to tell us. She turned to me; her dark, deep tear-stained eyes reflected impenetrable depths of raw fear and grief and hopeless despair. She labored to regain her voice. And then, in trembling broken tones, she spoke. <\/p>\n

\u201cI have never gained anything from the things you sold my husband,\u201d she choked. \u201cNot once. There were many times in the past year when I didn\u2019t know where I would find enough food to feed my children. I only found out recently that we have debts of more than sixty thousand dollars. We have no way to repay.\u201d Lowering her face, she sobbed uncontrollably into her handkerchief again. <\/p>\n

I sat there frozen. As did the judge. It was a scene straight out of a Dickens novel. The trembling broken heroine covering her face, cornered by her cruel oppressors. But bravely speaking truth to power as best she knew. <\/p>\n

She turned to the judge and continued. \u201cAll I ask is that I be removed from this suit,\u201d she sobbed. \u201cIf I\u2019m not, and there is a judgment against us, they will send the sheriff to our house and he will sell everything we own. And\u2026..I don\u2019t want my children\u2026..my little boys\u2026\u2026to have to see that, to go through that…Oh\u2026.please\u2026\u201d Her voice broke abruptly, she leaned forward, under terrible duress, half collapsing onto the table, her body wracking with sobs. Otherwise there was no sound. <\/p>\n

Her sons. That\u2019s why she was here. Enduring this brutal ordeal. To protect her sons. <\/p>\n

The judge looked on with open compassion and pity, greatly alarmed. As did I. For her and her condition. And all this stress might induce labor. A child might be born right here in the courtroom. At least the thought flashed through my mind. And through the judge\u2019s mind, I\u2019m sure. The English neighbor approached and soothed her, wiped away the tears. She struggled, breathed deep, grasped desperately for some semblance of composure. After some moments, she calmed down a good deal. <\/p>\n

The judge then turned to me. Did I have any questions for the defendant? I did. I asked them gently. Had my boss not promised that we would not come out and take their stuff, as long as they made some effort to pay even a token amount every month? She nodded. Did she not believe him? She didn\u2019t know, she just didn\u2019t want a judgment against her. After a few more questions, I turned to the judge and flatly repeated my demand for judgment. Then sat down at my table. I felt unclean. And tired and old.<\/p>\n

The judge looked somber. She would make her decision and we would receive it in the mail within a few days. We stood as she walked out. I held the door open for the Amish housewife and the English neighbor as they left. The poor woman, still shaking and weeping softly from the stress and fear, returned to the shattered wreckage of her desolate world, a world in which her shiftless lout of a husband had allowed her, in her fragile highly emotional state, to come to this place and face the music all alone. <\/p>\n

I walked away knowing I had won. She had no documentation to dispute my claim. No proof of LLC or Corporation protection. Technically, the letter of the law was on my side. Back at the office, I sagged into my chair, exhausted. \u201cIt was awful,\u201d I told Pat. \u201cJust awful.\u201d<\/p>\n

A few days later the ruling came down. The stern lady judge had copped out. Found some obscure technical reason to postpone a decision. I think she just invented some-thing because she couldn\u2019t bring herself to rule against the Amish housewife. She rescheduled another hearing. Thankfully, before that happened, a committee was appointed to oversee the Amish guy\u2019s finances. The day before the second hearing, we got a call with an offer to settle for sixty-five cents on the dollar. We fell over our-selves to accept it. And so it all went away. <\/p>\n

Maybe the judge was wiser than I first thought. <\/p>\n

I was greatly relieved. For the poor housewife. And for myself. I\u2019m not sure it was in me, to go back and do it all over again. Too many moral ambiguities, too much strain, too much stress. In a world where black and white all too often fade to murky shades of gray. <\/p>\n

That\u2019s why I don\u2019t do this stuff every day anymore.<\/p>\n

But once in awhile, it\u2019s OK. Recently, I had my second action this year. Mainstream Mennonite guy, from the next county. Around four grand, he owed. Throughout the spring and summer, I called periodically. Always, he made promises. Next day. Next week for sure. He would send a check. Of course, he never did. <\/p>\n

So in late September, I gathered my papers. Trudged off to District Court. Before leaving the office, I had a Google search done for his wife\u2019s name. Cross checked to make sure I had the right person. In the Complaint, I included the business, and the husband and wife individually as defendants. Paid my filing fees. Then awaited their response. <\/p>\n

They were tough. Refused to sign the receipt and accept service. The court sent me another bill for $75 for a deputy to personally serve the papers. That money went right down the rat hole, with all the rest. I\u2019d add it to my final judgment, I figured. So I waited. <\/p>\n

A few weeks later, a call from the husband. Shaken. \u201cI don\u2019t want to get sued,\u201d he stammered. \u201cCan\u2019t we work something out?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSimple enough,\u201d I answered. \u201cPay up.\u201d He hedged. \u201cI won\u2019t drop the suit until you pay up,\u201d I said. \u201cYou\u2019ve lied to me too many times. Promised to pay. I\u2019ve never seen a cent.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t you at least take my wife off?\u201d He begged. <\/p>\n

\u201cNope.\u201d I said. We hung up. <\/p>\n

The weeks passed. I figured he might call to settle. He never did. So on the scheduled morning, I packed my papers in my briefcase and headed to court. <\/p>\n

I arrived early. Waited. Maybe they wouldn\u2019t show. Fifteen minutes before the hearing, they walked in. I\u2019d never seen them before. Always dealt with him over the phone. <\/p>\n

He seemed hunched down, resigned, beaten. She was strong, tall, stony faced. And nail-spitting mad. She marched up to me. Glared. \u201cWhy am I on this suit?\u201d She snarled. \u201cI\u2019m not part of his company. It\u2019s an LLC. You lied on the Complaint. I never was a part of this. You lied.\u201d She spat the words at me.<\/p>\n

I was in no mood to take it from her. \u201cLook,\u201d I shot back. \u201cHe didn\u2019t tell me he was an LLC. He had an affirmative duty to do that. When he didn\u2019t, he lost his LLC protection. If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at the guy next to you. And if you want to discuss lying, talk to him about the dozen times he promised me the check was in the mail. He didn\u2019t pay his bills. That\u2019s the only reason you\u2019re here.\u201d <\/p>\n

Certainly my words were not conducive to their marital harmony. But it seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to say. No sense blaming me for their troubles. She sat there steaming, not even slightly mollified.<\/p>\n

He desperately wanted to settle. She was determined to confront me before the judge and force me to remove her name from the suit. \u201cWhatever,\u201d I shrugged. \u201cIt\u2019s not personal to me. I\u2019ll settle. Or I\u2019ll go before the judge. Either way, I\u2019m getting my money or a judgment. If I get a judgment, it\u2019ll be a matter of public record. And I\u2019m coming after you. Believe me, I\u2019m coming after you.\u201d <\/p>\n

The hunched down, beaten man recoiled visibly from my words. He seemed terrified at the thought of a legal judgment against him. He asked me to leave them alone for a few minutes. I walked away. Minutes later he called me back. He\u2019d give me a check if I told the judge we\u2019d settled. \u201cWrite the check first,\u201d I said. \u201cThen we\u2019ll see the judge.\u201d<\/p>\n

So that\u2019s what we did. He wrote me several checks, to be cashed monthly. The grim wife argued to the end about the actual amount owed. Accused me of fudging the invoices. They even came to the office to wrangle about the final amount. She fussed inordinately about a $5 late fee. We worked it out. She was still steaming mad when they left. Still spitting nails. Don\u2019t know why. We could have settled over the phone. But some people insist on doing things the hard way. <\/p>\n

And so I won. Recovered what was rightfully ours. But it was draining. I was flat-out exhausted. From all the confrontation, the bitter words, the tension, the harshness, the seething rage. In the end, other than having done my job, there was little satisfaction in my victory. It seemed hollow, empty. <\/p>\n

And that\u2019s why I don\u2019t do this stuff every day anymore.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is unfair to believe everything we hear about lawyers. Some of it might not be true. —Gerald F. Lieberman __________________ You\u2019d never know it, just being around me. As most of my customers don\u2019t. I never tell them. That I am an attorney. Fully licensed in PA. I\u2019m just common old Joe Schmoe. Pleasant. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-692","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/692","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=692"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/692\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=692"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=692"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=692"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}