46

CONNOR SAT IN THE GALLERY OF DEPARTMENT 301 OF THE SAN FRANCISCO Superior Court, the courtroom designated for hearing motions in odd-numbered cases. He was waiting for the court to call his motion for leave to withdraw, which was sixth on the day’s docket. To his annoyance, Deep Seven had decided to oppose it, and Carlos Alvarez had shown up to handle the hearing personally. He had pointedly ignored Connor when he walked into the courtroom and now sat two rows up on the other side of the gallery.

To make matters worse, the court had issued a tentative ruling denying the motion unless either new lawyers appeared to represent Devil to Pay or the company obtained a new registered corporate agent (Connor was the current agent). Both of those alternatives would take time and would involve further contact with Allie, which Connor would rather avoid.

The clerk called the fifth motion on the docket. Connor’s heart rate picked up at the realization that he was next. He hadn’t argued a contested motion in years. Most of his cases settled early, and DOJ always took the lead on those that didn’t. He would help write the briefs, slip notes to Max during hearings, and so on, but he’d had the luxury of sitting back and watching the actual combat from a front-row seat. This time he was in the ring.

“Line number six, State ex rel. Devil to Pay, Inc. v. Deep Seven Marine Technology, case number 401775,” the clerk announced.

Connor walked up to the plaintiff ’s table on the left side of the courtroom, and Alvarez took his place at the defendant’s table on the right. “Connor Norman for movant Doyle & Brown.”

“Carlos Alvarez for defendants.”

The honorable Karen Bovarnick looked at them over her glasses. “All right, you’re here on Doyle & Brown’s motion to withdraw, right?”

Connor nodded. “That’s correct, your honor.”

“My tentative ruling is to deny the motion without prejudice. I assume you want to talk me out of that, Mr. Norman?”

“Yes, your honor. The ethical rule in question, Rule 3-200, makes it mandatory for an attorney to withdraw in these circumstances. We do not have a choice in this matter—and, I respectfully submit, neither does the court. I am not aware of any authority that allows a court to order an attorney or firm to continue representing a client when they are ethically required to withdraw.”

The judge held up her hand. “Let me stop you for a second, counsel. Are you aware of authority allowing me to run my courtroom in an orderly and expeditious manner?”

“Yes, your honor, but—”

“And are you aware of any authority saying that I can’t set reasonable conditions on your withdrawal, if that’s necessary to make this case proceed smoothly?”

“I think the authorities are very clear that if an ethical rule requires a lawyer to withdraw, he or she must do so.”

A line appeared between the judge’s eyebrows as Connor spoke. She looked exactly like an exasperated schoolteacher in a black robe. “Yes, but you can’t just leave an empty chair behind you when you go. For example, if I let you withdraw and Mr. Alvarez wants to file a summary judgment motion, who does he give notice to? The rules require him to serve it on Devil to Pay, right? But if you’re gone, who does he notify?”

“He can send notice to the corporation’s agent for service of process.”

“Which is you.”

“Yes, your honor.”

“You don’t find that the tiniest bit odd? You want to withdraw as their lawyer because they’ve caused you to violate ethical rules, but it’s somehow okay for you to stay on as their agent? In fact, speaking of giving notice of motions—wait a second.” She shuffled through the papers in front of her. She held one of them up, though it was too far away for Connor to see what it was. Her face wore an incredulous look. “The rules require you to serve notice of a motion to withdraw on your client, and according to this proof of service you served yourself ?”

A snicker ran through the courtroom and Connor felt himself blushing. His secretary must have used an auto-fill form that plugged in the name of the corporate agent—and he stupidly hadn’t looked at it before it was filed. Rookie mistake. “I’m sorry, your honor. That’s a, uh, a typo. I can assure you that the client was notified that we planned to withdraw. I personally spoke with one of the corporate officers.”

The judge smiled. “That conversation didn’t happen to involve a mirror, did it?”

Louder laughs from the gallery.

Connor started to speak, but Judge Bovarnick held up her hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Norman. I shouldn’t have said that. But I have a low comfort level with what’s happening here. I’m going to adopt my tentative ruling as my order with the following modification: any future motion to withdraw must be served on an officer of the company other than yourself—and I’ll want that spelled out in detail both in the proof of service and in your declaration. I’ll want to know exactly who you talked to, when you talked to them, and what you said. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Good. Mr. Alvarez, did you have anything you wanted to say?”

Connor looked over at his opponent, who was doing his best not to grin. “No, your honor has said it all.”