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Article Excerpt
Each time you take a personal injury case, you make a commitment to help a person in need. But sometimes the injury is particularly grievous or the client is especially vulnerable. Here, five lawyers remember clients who needed special attention.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY GREGORY MEMEC
Hard changes for a good cop
Roxanne Barton Conlin
All our clients need us in large ways and small. They need us to get them compensation so they can go on with their lives. They need funds for medical care or vocational rehabilitation. They need more education.
When someone has died, the family needs funeral expenses and ongoing support. They often need a sympathetic ear or someone to hold their hands or listen to their stories. They might need advice on whether to sell the house or trade the car or buy a new TV. Who is the best doctor for their injuries? Who is a good mental health counselor? Do they need a will? Every trial lawyer knows the myriad roles we play in our clients' lives.
When I met Rick Gail, he didn't look like he needed any help from anybody. He was a giant of a man, handsome in his police blues. He was 26 years old, married to Janet, with two children.
He was everything we want our police officers to be. From the time he was old enough to race his bicycle through the neighborhood following the sound of a siren, Rick never wanted to be anything else. The day he took his officer's oath was one of the proudest of his life. He was absolutely devoted to his work on the Cedar Rapids, Iowa, police force. In a few short years he won numerous commendations and honors, including the medal of valor for his courage in the face of a robber's gunfire.
On September 12, 1981, at about 10 p.m., 19-year-old Ronald Clark walked into a convenience store. Witnesses said he was staggering, speaking loudly, and slurring his words. He wanted a 12-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. The man at the counter sold it to him.
Clark and three friends were up for an evening of "cruising the avenue"--driving up and down First Avenue in Cedar Rapids--in Clark's souped-up Dodge pickup. At 3:30 a.m., two officers in a patrol car saw the pickup and another vehicle drag racing and ordered them to stop. Clark sped off, leading the police on a high-speed chase through residential neighborhoods.
Rick Gail was on duty that night. He heard about the chase on his squad car radio and turned on his emergency lights. As he was pulling into an intersection, Clark's pickup truck came roaring out of the darkness at 100 miles per hour, flew past a stop sign, and crashed into the driver's side of Rick's squad car.
Rick was declared dead at the scene, but somehow he started to breathe again. He suffered a concussion. Every rib was broken, and many of the pieces punctured his lungs. His doctors thought they lost him two more times during his five-week hospitalization. His fellow officers kept watch around the clock.
Rick's will to live was strong and he eventually was released from the hospital, but when he went home, he battled depression. A deeply religious man whose father was a minister, Rick believed that God was angry at him. The goal that sustained him was returning to the police force--a goal he achieved nine months after the crash. He remained as devoted to the force as ever.
My law firm sued the convenience store that sold Ronald Clark several 12-packs of cold beer the night of the crash, which he drank throughout the evening. After taking over the case from another attorney, I first met Rick a few months before trial.
I launched into full-blown case preparation. First, I visited all Rick's doctors. Each expressed amazement at his recovery. I then contacted his partner, former partners, and others on his shift at the police department. They were reluctant to talk to me. Many made appointments and canceled, or just failed to show up. This happened again and again.
Finally, I went to the police station, found Rick's partner, and told him that no one from the department would see me. I asked why. He refused to answer but finally agreed to meet with me.
After much probing, I learned that, in fact, Rick had not recovered fully from his injuries. His partner told me that after one foot chase, Rick collapsed and passed out. He could not run and often had trouble breathing. He simply could not do his job. No one on the force wanted to say so, but they knew it.
Rick's fellow officers had the utmost affection and respect for him, but they worried about him and each other. His partner said simply, "Something bad is going to happen." Everyone knew what police work meant to Rick, and no one wanted to lose him from the force.
They had avoided talking to me because they just didn't know what to say. I promised to get Rick to the doctor.
I arranged a pulmonary function test. The pulmonologist was stunned to learn that Rick's lung capacity had diminished 37 percent in two years. Although he appeared healthy, Rick could lift no more than 10 pounds and walk no faster than 1 mile per hour. Talking rendered him short of breath. But Rick wanted so desperately to be well that he had convinced himself and his doctors that he was, and his friends on the police force tried to cover for him.
The pulmonologist ordered Rick removed from the force immediately concluding that he was permanently disabled and probably had been for some time. Rick was devastated, but there was no arguing with the tests or the doctor. He left the force just a few weeks before his case went to trial.
The jury rendered a fair verdict for Rick and his family. After two unsuccessful defense appeals, Rick invested in higher education, became a minister like his dad, and was named chaplain of the Cedar Rapids Police Department.
Rick Gail needed me to do what no one else could do for him: He needed me to put the pieces together, discover his true condition, and tell him he...
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