we follow them through the cavernous dwelling to a rear terrace that overlooks a pool large enough to race skiffs. A pool house at the far end can easily sleep fifteen. A gentleman in all whites takes our drink orders as we are directed to a shaded sitting area under creaking fans. Susan Ashley is sipping white wine as she waits for us.
“I’d introduce y’all to my wife but she left last month,” Cordell says loudly as he falls into a wicker rocker. “Third divorce.”
“I thought it was four,” Cannon says seriously.
“Could be. I think I’m done.” It’s easy to get the impression that Cordell plays hard, works hard, parties hard, and keeps nothing inside. “She wants this house but there’s that little prenup thing she signed right before the wedding.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Cannon says. “Our law firm lives in fear of Cordell’s next divorce.”
What, exactly, are we supposed to talk about at this point? “We had a good day in court,” I say. “Thanks to Bill.” Vicki, Mazy, and Susan Ashley are wide-eyed and seemingly afraid to speak.
Cannon says, “It always helps when the facts are on your side.”
“Damn right,” Cordell adds. “I love this case. I’m on the firm’s litigation committee and from the moment Bill pitched this case I said, ‘Hell yes.’ ”
“What’s a litigation committee?” I ask. Cordell is on our side, and he has a big mouth so there’s a chance we can learn a lot.
He says, “Every lawsuit we file has to be screened by a committee made up of the managing partners of the six offices. We see a lot of crap and we also see a lot of good cases that are either unwinnable or too expensive. For us to take a case there has to be a good chance of recovery of at least ten million bucks. That simple. If we don’t see the potential for ten million, then we pass. Quincy, he’s looking at more than that. You have the complicity of the State of Florida, with no caps on damages. You have four million already frozen in the sheriff’s bank accounts, with more parked offshore. And you have the cartel.”
“The cartel?” I ask.
Mr. All-Whites returns with a silver tray and hands down our drinks. Beer for me. White wine for Mazy. And white wine for Vicki as well, which is probably the second time she has not said no since I’ve known her.
Bill says, “It’s not a new angle, but it’s something we haven’t tried before. We’ve associated a firm out of Mexico City that stalks the assets of narco-traffickers. It’s dicey work, as you might guess, but they’ve had some success in attaching bank accounts and freezing property. The Saltillo Cartel has some new faces, primarily because the old ones got blown away, but some of the principals are still known. Our plans are to get a big judgment here and enforce it anywhere we can find the assets.”
“Seems like suing a cartel would be somewhat dangerous,” I say.
Cordell laughs and says, “Probably not as bad as suing tobacco companies, gun makers, or big pharma. Not to mention crooked doctors and their insurance companies.”
Mazy says, “Are you saying that Quincy Miller will get at least ten million dollars?” She asks this slowly, as if in disbelief.
Cannon laughs and says, “No, we never make guarantees. Too many things can go wrong. It’s litigation and so it’s always a roll of the dice. The State will want to settle but Pfitzner will not. He’ll go down swinging and trying like hell to protect his money. He has good lawyers, but he’ll be fighting from inside of a prison. I’m saying that Quincy’s case has that much potential, minus, of course, the matter of our fees.”
“Hear, hear,” Cordell says as he drains his bottle.
“How long will it take?” Vicki asks.
Bill and Cordell look at each other and shrug. Bill says, “Two, maybe three years. Nash Cooley’s firm knows how to litigate so it will be a fair fistfight.”
I watch Susan Ashley as she follows this closely. Like Guardian, her nonprofit cannot split attorneys’ fees with real law firms, but she told me in confidence that Bill Cannon promised to donate 10 percent of the legal fees to the Central Florida Innocence Project. She, in turn, promised me half of whatever they get. For a second my mind goes crazy as our Mexican lawyers garnish Caribbean bank accounts filled with huge sums of money that gets whacked as