Everybody Has a Story: Couple’s embrace, departure disrupted divorce docket

My trial days are over. Having practiced law in Vancouver for 40 years, I now have closed files in boxes that cry out for attention. As I shuffle through each with intent to shred and recycle, I’m reminded of numerous court appearances, many of which were on “docket days.” These were the times when we lawyers argued motions or presented orders; it was not a time for hearing evidence — only arguments.

On one such occasion, an old stalwart from the east county was appearing before Judge Ed Reed before Reed went up to the Court of Appeals. The matter concerned a criminal client whose personal appearance was required, and the defense attorney, Bob Garver Sr., and his client stood together before the bar. Garver, who had recently been hospitalized and hydrated with a saline bag, wore an arm brace and wobbled a bit as he stood.

The judge asked the defendant: “Are you clean?”

“Yes,” was the reply, softly.

“Let me see. Let me see your arms,” instructed the judge.

As the defendant began to roll up his sleeves, Garver set his brace aside, and, clutching the bar where they stood, began to laboriously roll up his sleeves as well! He showed the judge his arm. “That would be from your last hospital visit?” asked the judge.

As Garver, wobbling, nodded affirmatively, a “long hair,” sitting in the back row where the court watchers sat, called out for all to hear: “Right on, old man! Right on!” The defense had a cheering section.

Arguing both sides

Another story also involved an aged attorney, Everal Carson, whose offices were in what then was the “low rent” area downtown, near a number of taverns and pawnshops. When our case was called, Carson and I approached the bar to argue. He had prepared some paperwork, but alas, had run afoul of his legal secretary shortly beforehand, and she had ripped his document into several pieces.

Desperate, Everal used tape and paper clips in an attempt to salvage the work. As he stood at the bar, I could not help but take pity on him as he struggled to deal with his patchwork papers. I ended up reading the content of the material he had prepared to argue against me! It was the only time I was involved in both sides of a case, and I’m pleased to report that I prevailed.

Just say yes

A third incident involved the divorce docket, where lawyers and clients appeared before a judge to have a final divorce decree entered. Of course, the decree required supporting “findings of fact,” with testimony to support those findings. It was a rote matter, perhaps 20 questions, with the client instructed beforehand to answer “yes” to nearly all questions posed. The attorney would then ask leading questions to prompt the needed affirmations, that is, “You are married to Mr. X? You have two children? You’ve arranged for support in the amount of $Y? You’ve equitably divided your property?” At the conclusion of which, the judge would remark, “Very well,” and sign the papers.

Judge Bob McMullen was assigned to the “disso” docket that day. His courtroom had been carved out from the old law library, and the room was long and narrow with an aisle down the middle, with numerous benches on either side for the parties and attorneys to sit on until their case was called.

On this occasion, the husband took the witness stand and affirmatively answered all of his lawyer’s questions, until the million-dollar question was posed: “Is your marriage irretrievably broken?” There was a pregnant pause, when suddenly he sprang up from his seat and ran down the long aisle where he met with a woman, presumably his soon-to-be ex, who had run up the aisle from the back to meet him.

They embraced and rushed from the courtroom, filled to capacity with stunned silence. The attorney, nonplussed, promptly said to the Judge, “I’d like to set this matter over one week, Your Honor.”

“Very well,” replied Judge McMullen, and he called the next case.

Everybody Has a Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Send to: neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA, 98666. Call “Everybody Has an Editor” Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.