Home > law, transforamtion > Miracles on 7th Street er–Ocean Avenue

Miracles on 7th Street er–Ocean Avenue

Miracles. Law. Doesn’t sound like a fit does it? But trust me—it was. Some of the adventures I previously wrote about–getting the bishop to put the kibosh on the priest vs. bus driver suit– was in the ball park. Settling cases based on human values when I was a newbie—yeah, that’s pretty close. (Now I know… it is all because I am an “HSP“. )

Then there was another case, in Long Beach, where I smelled a rat and had a friend pull a “property profile” and saw that the Plaintiffs’ attorney (and the plaintiffs were honestly the “bad guys”) had a lien on the house the lawsuit was about.  Yeah, that one too. (You see, that is TOTALLY unethical. In case you can’t see why, it is because the lawyers could have taken the property away from the parties—even before the case was sorted out. Lawyers have a fiduciary duty—they –we-have to put clients first.) I know—folks are running for their nitro glycerin. Don’t sue me please. But this is true.

So as soon as I found this—gee folks it’s public record—that case settled. REAL fast. We won. (And my boss felt we didn’t we get a good enough deal… sound familiar???) But I digress. But NO ONE else thought to see where these young folks were get the money to hire attorneys to sue their gramma to get her house, just lil ol me. I wondered, I had a hunch, I checked… I saw. (Guess why I like “House”?)

But it got REALLY clear when I had a family law case with a twenty-something dad. It as a custody case, and I tended never to take these. Still don’t. But somehow this one seemed legit, it felt right, so I took it.  In intake, knowing court was likely,  I told my guy to make himself look like Beaver Cleaver—which his friends razzed him for. (They actually said “what are you–Beaver Cleaver?)

Mom was apparently not emotionally stable. So… off to court we went. My newly Beaver-Ckeavered young dad and I.

I was very focused, getting ready for the appearance. Wore my $700 Barry Bricken “don’t f*** with me” suit. (Trust me that was some bucks back them. Size 6 wool—GORGEOUS, but oh so don’t mess with me.) Wore my gold and diamond watch. As I dressed, I was thinking of nothing else. Drove from Galleon Way in San Juan Capistrano to Long Beach… made my appearance with my newly spiffed young dad in tow. We were dealing with Mon in pro per. Back then, this was every attorneys nightmare. The case was put over until after lunch, costing my gut hundreds of dollars in extra time spent. During lunch,as were int he courtroom– or maybe the hallway–Mom came over and said to both of us “you can have the baby”.

criminal for naught

criminal for naught (Photo credit: carrollUSA)

We are all gobsmacked. But she meant it.  A stipulation is entered and we all go home—dad to his folks with the baby—Mom to… Well it turns out God knows where. he disappeared. (Which was a problem.)

But that day we were very happy indeed. Later I asked one if my Summit friends “How did I DO that?” He said “it was your intention”—I had described the while day to him… I said “OK.” But still… it was a miracle.I wish I knew how things turned out for the poor kid–but I don’t.

Like all my miracles it was not appreciated.  Dad was mad because Mom melted away and we could not do squat. He fired me.  But.. I knew the child was better off with him and his parents. Yes, miracles were easy. Maybe not so popular—but easy. I have no idea why easy. I am beginning to understand why no one went “WOW-you are awesome. Next time…

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