[2013] Consequential Damages Read online

  “Nothing like a little adrenaline rush to clear your head,” Rick replied. “I’ll bet finals don't seem so scary compared to that!” Rick laughed hard and drank half his beer in one gulp, then excused himself to use the men's room.

  “Let's make sure that one of us drives home,” suggested Tony. “I'd rather not entrust my life to that thrill-seeking son of a bitch again.”

  “Agreed. I'll drive,” said Jake.

  Rick returned just as the waitress arrived with their dinners.

  “This was an inspired idea, Rick,” said Jake. “Thanks for twisting my arm. Something about the great outdoors in California really helps me keep everything else in perspective.”

  “Yeah, so does a brush with death,” said Tony.

  Rick laughed. “You guys are wound way too tight. Shall we drive a little farther up the coast?”

  “Well, as fun as this is, I vote we start heading back,” said Jake. “We’re a good three hours from campus, and I promised myself I'd get to my Criminal Law outline this weekend. I haven't even started it yet.”

  “I'm dreading that test more than any of the others,” said Tony. “Rumor has it that Professor Preston always gives take-home exams.”

  “Isn't that a good thing?” asked Jake. “We won't be racing the clock for three hours.”

  “No, we won't,” said Tony. “We'll be racing the clock for twenty-four hours. We pick up the exam at eight o’clock Tuesday morning and have to return it by eight a.m. on Wednesday. Virtually everyone taking that exam will use every minute trying to keep up with the pack. Who’s going to stop after four hours when everyone else is putting in an all-nighter?”

  “That's insane!” replied Jake. “I need my sleep. There's no way I’m staying up all night for an exam!”

  “We'll see about that,” said Tony. “You're just as competitive as the rest of us. You'll be putting the finishing touches on your exam at seven thirty Wednesday morning, like everyone else.”

  “Hey, look on the bright side,” said Rick. “You won’t have to spend nearly as much time memorizing your outline. You’ll be taking the exam in your room, and you’ll have all the resources you need right at your fingertips.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, pal,” said Tony, “but it's take-home, not open book. You're not allowed to use books, notes, outlines or anything else.”

  “That's crazy,” said Rick. “There's no way to enforce that.”

  “It's the honor system,” said Tony, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Yeah right,” said Rick. “How many people do you really expect to abide by the honor system?”

  “I assume everyone will, Rick,” said Jake. “These people didn't get into Stanford Law School by cheating. They didn't have to, and I don't expect they’ll start now.”

  Rick looked incredulous. “You guys are dreaming. Our esteemed classmates are a group of ultracompetitive personalities within an ultracompetitive profession. Plenty of them will be using every resource at their disposal, looking for any advantage they can get. You'd be foolish not to try to level the playing field and do the same.”

  Tony leaned across the table, looking angry and indignant. “But that's just dishonest, Rick. It's unethical. Doesn't that bother you?”

  “Look, there’s no way to enforce that requirement; everyone else will be ignoring it; and there’s no risk of getting caught. So why not?” asked Rick.

  Jake stared at Rick, open-mouthed, trying to decide whether he was actually serious. “What about the honor code, Rick? Don't you think we need to play by the rules? Don’t we have some responsibility to the school and to each other?”

  “After all we’ve invested here, I think our primary responsibility is to ourselves—to do as well as we possibly can,” said Rick.

  “Well, try this one on,” urged Jake. “Don’t you really want to know how good you are, how you measure up with this bunch? Doesn't it cheapen your accomplishment if you get there by skirting the rules? What you're talking about sounds like cheating on your golf score.”

  “There are two flaws with your argument, McShane,” said Rick, looking smug. “First, this is not like a day on the golf course all by yourself. Others are playing in this tournament and someone is definitely keeping score. The ones who advance are the ones with the best scores. It's that simple. Second, others will be bending the rules, so if you don't approach your game in the same way, you’ll be giving yourself a real handicap. That makes it hard to win.”

  “Well, in my opinion, your entire premise is flawed,” said Tony. “I don't share your cynical view of our classmates. I honestly believe that the vast majority of them are honorable and ethical. And if those of us who choose to abide by the honor code are at a disadvantage, so be it. Sacrificing one's integrity in the hope of scoring a few additional points on an exam just isn’t worth it.”

  Rick looked from one to the other, a bemused smile on his face. “I hope I have the pleasure of meeting you guys in court someday—you have your heads in the clouds. Let me bring you back down to earth with a very practical example: If you approach a stop sign at a deserted intersection at three a.m. and you knew there were no other vehicles on the road, would you stop? Of course not. Nobody would.”

  “I disagree,” Jake replied. “I would stop. I do stop in situations like that. I’ve never really thought about the reasons, but I suppose it’s because it means something to me to live my life by a certain standard. That includes obeying the laws—even when nobody is watching.”

  Rick chuckled and threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I give up,” he said. “I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

  “So, Rick,” asked Jake, with a serious tone, “I know you enjoy a good debate. I also know you like to yank our chain. You’re not really saying you would use reference materials during a take-home exam, are you?”

  “I never said that I would and I never said that I wouldn't,” replied Rick. “I spoke only hypothetically.”

  “But you said it would be foolish not to use all the reference materials we can get our hands on,” Tony pointed out. “So, reading between the lines, it sounds like you’re prepared to do exactly that. Have I got that right?”

  “I never said that,” Rick replied. “But I will say this: You guys could really benefit from a dose of the real world. Let's go.” He finished his beer, stood up, and headed toward the door.

  “Hey Rick, I've never driven a Beamer before. Mind if I drive home?” Jake asked as they strolled across the parking lot.

  “Not at all. Don't trust me?” Rick grinned and tossed Jake the keys.

  “You got that right,” Jake answered, as they climbed into the convertible and began the drive back to campus. For most, of the ride home, Rick and Tony quizzed each other on Contracts and Torts. Jake was mostly silent. Listening to their conversation and their obvious mastery of the subject was an unsettling reminder of how far behind in his studies he was. He became oblivious to the stunning scenery all around him and obsessed with the clock on the BMW’s dashboard.

  CHAPTER 2

  “I really wish you’d consider staying, Grandma,” said Amanda Chang as she busied herself emptying drawers and packing her grandmother's things in an old leather suitcase. “Mother and Daddy would love to have you here, and there's plenty of room.”

  “No, I'm well now,” replied the elderly woman seated by the window. “I've imposed on all of you for almost six weeks now. It's time for me to go home. I miss my apartment, and I miss Chinatown.”

  Amanda stopped her packing, walked over to her grandmother and gently took her hand. She stared deeply into the older woman's eyes and smiled. “I know you do,” she said in a soft voice. She turned toward the window, and they both stared in silence at the stunning view. It was a view Amanda had never taken for granted, despite having lived with it since she was five years old. The house was perched high in the Berkeley Hills, overlooking the University of California directly below them and the City of Berkeley gradually sloping westward towar
d San Francisco Bay. Beneath the brilliant blue sky, sailboats dotted the water, darting between Angel Island and Alcatraz. The Golden Gate Bridge stretched majestically in front of them, connecting Marin County with San Francisco, or “The City,” as everyone in the area called it. The striking natural beauty was complemented perfectly by the bold and elegant skyline of downtown San Francisco.

  “You’ll never find a view like this in Chinatown,” said Amanda.

  “There’s no view like this anywhere,” the old woman acknowledged.

  “I used to stare out this window whenever I called you on the phone as a child. I’d picture you talking to me from your apartment. It was such a comfort knowing that you were right there across the water.”

  “You were such a precious child, Amanda. You have no idea how much those phone calls meant to me. No matter what was going on, those calls from you would always brighten my day. You were so special. You still are. I can’t believe you gave up your vacation to spend time with your decrepit old grandmother. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “That’s okay, Grandma. In a way, your pneumonia was a blessing. I was able to spend some real quality time with you this summer. I can take a nice vacation next year. Anyway, I got all the break I needed. I truly love what I do, so it’s not like I was dying to get away.”

  “You must be the youngest doctor on that staff—certainly the youngest looking. How old are you now, twenty-three?”

  Amanda laughed. “I wish. I’m twenty-five now— I feel like I’m getting old in a hurry!”

  “Be careful you don’t let life pass you by, dear. You should be looking for a husband, and starting a family of your own,” said the elderly woman, a serious tone in her voice.

  “Maybe someday. Right now, my career is very important to me. I don’t have time for distractions.”

  “There are more important things in life than professional accomplishments. Like the people in your life. Like your family. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I know that. And when the right person comes along, I’ll have no trouble changing my priorities. I haven’t met that person yet, but I’m not going to worry about it. My life is good right now. I’m happy.”

  “I’m glad. You deserve to be.”

  They stared out the window again, silently, still hand-in-hand. After some time, Mrs. Chang broke the silence. “Do you still play the piano?”

  “I haven’t played in years. Susan and Jeffery have both kept it up and play beautifully,” Amanda said, referring to her younger siblings.

  “What about your singing? You always had such a lovely voice.”

  “Sure, I still sing all the time—in the shower, in my apartment, walking down the street.” Amanda laughed. “People sometimes stare at me because I’m singing to myself and don’t even realize it.”

  “That’s good. It means you have a happy heart. You really should try to keep music in your life. It’s good for the mind and the soul. It helps keep you balanced, and with all the pressures in your life, you need that balance.”

  “That’s good advice, Grandma. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  After another brief but comfortable silence, Amanda said, “I better go now. I promised to meet some friends in Palo Alto for dinner tonight. Daddy will be driving you back to the City in the morning. I’ll come visit you as often as I can on weekends.”

  “You should be spending your weekends relaxing and having fun with your friends.”

  “Oh, I will, but I’ll always find time for my grandma. You stay healthy, do you hear me?”

  “Goodbye, child.”

  “Bye, Grandma. I love you,” Amanda said, hugging the old woman and turning quickly so that her grandmother would not see the tears in her eyes. She was so frail now. Every time they parted company, Amanda experienced a wave of sadness, knowing that any visit could be their last.

  CHAPTER 3

  By December 1st, the level of intensity around the law school had reached a crescendo. Male students were mostly unshaven, and the women had largely dispensed with makeup, as even basic grooming had become a luxury few dared to spend time on. Social interaction was becoming rare, and what interaction there was consisted mostly of students grilling each other in preparation for the upcoming exams.

  Jake finished his outlines precisely on schedule. After going through that exercise, he realized how invaluable they were, given the enormous quantities of subject matter they were expected to learn. His plan now was to spend as much waking time as possible poring over those outlines, which held the key to his success on these all-important first semester finals. The first exam was just ten days away.

  Watching and listening to his classmates as they relentlessly quizzed each other and shared horror stories about finals only served to heighten Jake’s anxiety. Not only did he have no desire to participate in that kind of interaction, he didn’t even want to witness it, yet it pervaded the school, the law library and the dorm. Jake found refuge in the massive undergraduate library. He had discovered it during Thanksgiving weekend, when the law library was closed, and found it to be an ideal place to avoid the law school frenzy. He had been going there every day for over a week now and had yet to spot a single law student.

  Shortly after lunch, Jake made his way to his usual spot, which was a study carrel among the stacks of books on the third floor. Although a few of the carrels around him were occupied by undergraduate students, Jake felt remote and isolated, since there were no law students anywhere in sight. He intended to devote the entire day to Contracts, since it was his first final. He quickly lost himself in the intricacies and nuances of contract law and became oblivious to everything around him.

  By late afternoon, Jake found his concentration fading as he was distracted by the sound of his stomach growling. He glanced at his watch and realized that he had been there for nearly five hours. He needed a short break and some sustenance to energize himself for a long night of studying. He remembered that there was a delicatessen just around the corner. He could grab a cup of coffee and a bite to eat and be back in fifteen minutes.

  Jake got up, stretched, rubbed his bleary eyes, and headed for the elevator. He did not want to lose his prime study spot, so he draped his jacket over the chair and left his study materials strewn all over the desk. He tucked his backpack underneath the desk, hidden from view.

  It was dark already as he walked outside. Without his jacket, the December air felt chilly. He walked briskly to the deli, ordered a chicken salad sandwich and a large cup of coffee, and perused the sports section of the USA Today. As he did so, a dark thought flitted through his mind. Was it foolish to have left his outlines behind in the library, even for a few minutes? After all, his work for the entire semester was captured in those documents. He was just being paranoid, he told himself. Doing so might be risky at some of the cutthroat law schools back east, but not here. Besides, the third floor of the library was pretty deserted, and those outlines would be of no use to any undergraduate who happened to be studying there. He quickly calmed down and felt reassured, and congratulated himself on his decision to avoid the dorm and the law library.

  The brisk walk, the food, and the caffeine had him feeling invigorated, as he walked casually back to the library, psyching himself up for another long night with his outlines. The third floor was utterly quiet. Most of the undergrads who had been there earlier were gone. They must be eating a nice leisurely meal, Jake thought with some envy.

  As he approached his study carrel, he sensed immediately that something was amiss. His backpack was on the chair. He was certain that he had made a point of tucking it away under the desk. He sprinted the last few feet to the carrel, panic gripping him. His books lay exactly where he had left them, but the Contracts outline was nowhere in sight. He cast aside the loose pages of notes covering the desk, desperately hoping that his outline was buried among the papers. It was not there. He looked under the desk. He scoured the entire area surrounding the carrel. Feeling dizzy and nauseous, he yanked
the zipper on his backpack with shaking hands. Every one of his outlines had been in there. They were gone.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Professor? Is this a convenient time?” asked Amanda Chang.

  Dr. Ellen Marsh looked up from her desk. “Amanda, so nice to see you. Please come in.” She walked around her desk, smiling warmly as she extended her hand to her visitor.

  Ellen Marsh was the dean of the residency program at Stanford Medical Center, and one of its leading neurologists. She also served on the faculty of the medical school. She was in her early fifties, but looked ten years younger. Her hair was short and sandy brown without a trace of gray. Although her features were plain, her skin was perfect, as were her teeth, which she displayed frequently through her quick, easy smile. Her demeanor was invariably calm and pleasant, and she exuded a confidence bred out of a lifetime of knowing that she was always the smartest person in the room.

  Although Dr. Marsh was not Amanda's assigned advisor, she had informally assumed the role of mentor after Amanda had worked as her research assistant during her final two years of medical school. Their relationship now transcended that, and they had become good friends.

  “I’d like to take you up on your offer to discuss career options,” Amanda said. “After this year, I'll be halfway through my residency. I need to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”

  “I'd be delighted to help in any way I can,” said Dr. Marsh as she guided Amanda to the brown leather couch opposite her desk. They sat down, facing each other. “Knowing you as I do, I'm sure you've thought about this from every possible angle. Has a general direction begun to emerge?”

  “Not really,” replied Amanda, a look of concern crossing her face. “I feel torn. I thoroughly enjoyed the research we've worked on together. I feel that I'm reasonably good at it and part of me thinks that I could do something meaningful along those lines, but—”