ILR comments. The judge-bribing attorney had requested a 30-month sentence (in conjunction with the now-standard set of hundreds of letters listing his supposed good deeds); his plea agreement provided for a five-year maximum sentence, which he got. He’ll still have the jet and millions of dollars when he gets out, even after paying the $250,000 fine imposed at the sentencing. David Rossmiller and Folo will undoubtably continue their excellent coverage, or check our previous Dickie Scruggs coverage.
Montgomery Blair Sibley suspended in D.D.C.
As we noted, it was a foregone conclusion under Local Rule 83 after the District of Columbia suspended Sibley, but we now have written confirmation (see Exhibit A at pp. 6-7).
Grand Theft Auto: Class Action – the argument
By popular demand, here is my first-hand account of arguing at yesterday’s Grand Theft Auto fairness hearing:
Asbestos: Production — the great screening scam
Once plaintiffs’ lawyers attracted potential asbestos plaintiffs, they had to convert them into actual plaintiffs. This “production” process is at the heart of the overall asbestos litigation scam. As noted, the screenings typically occurred in vans or trailers in parking lots. The procedures inside were laughable:
Inside the trailers, screeners took “occupational exposure histories” (which were necessary to link plaintiffs to asbestos defendants), conducted breathing tests, and took X-rays that were later analyzed by medical specialists known as “B readers.” People with little or no medical training ran the screening clinics: high school students or clerical workers took patient histories, a crucial procedure in diagnosing lung disease. Glorified clerks composed the diagnoses and “signed” them with rubber stamps.
The evidence is overwhelming that these screenings were largely shams designed to identify as many individuals as possible as “impaired” with asbestos-related injury. The plaintiffs’ lawyers only employed 4 to 6 percent of the nation’s certified B-readers. Some were employed in staggering mass-production fashion: one doctor diagnosed some 88,000 patients, conducting 150 asbestos X-ray readings per day. Unsurprisingly, many of the doctors who were most employed by the asbestos litigation machine later disavowed their diagnoses under oath or pleaded their Fifth Amendment-right against self-incrimination.
Just how stacked were the screenings in favor of finding a positive diagnosis of injury? A study employing independent readers conducted by Johns Hopkins researchers looked at 492 X-rays processed by the screening clinics and found lung impairment in 4.5 percent of cases; the lawyers’ B-readers had identified asbestos-related injury in 95.9 percent of the exact same films.
While the fraud involved in asbestos screenings was fairly well known among those in the know, and had been documented extensively by Professor Lester Brickman (see, e.g., here), the real public break in exposing the fraud came in federal court in 2005, when Texas judge Janis Graham Jack documented on the record massive fraud in the silicosis cases before her court. Regular readers of Overlawyered and Point of Law are familiar with Judge Jack’s basic findings (see here), so I’ll only go over the high points. (Interested readers can refer to the pertinent section of the Trial Lawyers, Inc.: Asbestos report for more detail.)
In essence, Judge Jack discovered (through the diligent work of the defendant’s law firm) that most of the silicosis claims before here were filed on behalf of individuals who had already been paid for asbestosis. While medically possible, mutual occurrence of both diseases is highly unlikely; and the medical diagnosis of X-ray readings makes distinguishing between the 2 injuries rather easy, as “scars that asbestos causes look like threads, while the scars that silica causes look like BBs.” Dr. George Martindale, a doctor who had processed thousands of claims before Judge Jack, admitted that the language in his “reports” that formed the basis for the litigation came from the lawyers and screening companies, and he denied that they were actual diagnoses. Judge Jack held full hearings under the rules established by Daubert v. Merrell Dow Pharmaceuticals and its progeny, and issued a comprehensive — and withering — 249-page decision:
These diagnoses were about litigation rather than health care. And yet that statement, while true, overestimates the motives of the people who engineered them…. [T]ruth and justice had very little to do with these diagnoses. Instead, these diagnoses were driven by neither health nor justice; they were manufactured for money. The record is not clear who originally devised this scheme, but it is clear that the lawyers, doctors and screening companies were all willing participants.
Since Judge Jack’s ruling, other scandals involving mass asbestos screenings have emerged, which I’ll document in due course. The key take-away from a broad litigation context is just how much difficulty U.S. courts have in dealing with complex medical evidence. Federal courts have improved significantly since Peter Huber wrote Galileo’s Revenge, in no small part due to Daubert and the cases that followed, but many state courts lack the procedural protections — or competence — that their federal brethren possess in handling these issues. Indeed, had Judge Jack not been a former nurse, she herself may not have been able to interpret the fraud before her. In mass tort cases, of course, handling the scientific evidence becomes all but impossible, as I’ll discuss next.
Asbestos: Part Deux
With Walter occupied on a deadline and Ted on the road, I’m happy to be back to wrap up my discussion of developments in asbestos litigation, as summarized in the Manhattan Institute’s recently released Trial Lawyers, Inc.: Asbestos report. As I noted last month, asbestos has an ancient history, and in the early part of the last century, it was deemed a “magic mineral”; its flame-retardant properties protected American naval vessels and schoolhouses from fire. (See here.) Unfortunately, asbestos exposure ultimately proved deadly, the plaintiffs’ lawyers pounced, and the American asbestos industry largely went bankrupt by the early 1980s. (See here.) The trusts created to pay out claimants from these bankrupt entities became a big business unto themselves, swamped with claimants and unable fairly or efficiently to process the claims. (See here.)
What happened next, in the 1990s and early part of this decade, amounts in large part to the systemization of fraud, through a business model the trial lawyers developed to extract as much money as possible out of the asbestos well. As we point out in our Trial Lawyers, Inc. report, this business model “starts with marketing (recruiting plaintiffs), followed by production (eagerly screening prospective plaintiffs for purported lung impairment and usually finding it), packaging (bundling cases into a “mass” of tort claims), and sales (overwhelming courts and defendants to extract settlements).” At each stage of the process, the business exemplifies major problems with American jurisprudence. I’ll start with marketing.
Lawyers’ ability to “market” for clients is founded in the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision in Bates v. State Bar of Arizona, which determined that attorney advertising is a form of speech protected by the First Amendment. That ruling may well have been right as a matter of constitutional law, but it effectively gutted prohibitions on attorney solitication of clients and led to attorney-driven litigation. In the asbestos context, solicitation of clients became truly laughable, as ne’er-do-wells attracted potential plaintiffs to screening vans parked outside union halls or strip malls:
Heath Mason, a junior-college dropout with no legal or medical training who made $25.5 million from asbestos litigation. Mason’s role was attracting potential plaintiffs to “screening clinics” that interviewed and “tested” them, usually in trailers hauled to restaurant, shopping-center, or motel parking lots. Mason would lure passersby with attractive women he called his “lawyer girls,” such as the two young lawyers he met at an unidentified convention in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and later persuaded to stand on a Fort Worth street corner with signs directing potential plaintiffs to an X-ray screening van in a Staples parking lot.
Today, marketing tactics are also of the sophisticated variety. As Overlawyered readers are aware, the most expensive Google ad-search terms involve “asbestos” and “mesothelioma.”
Grand Theft Auto: Class Action – in NY Times
The hearing is in a New York City courtroom this morning, and the NY Times is there, complete with a photo of me.
“The Naked Cowboy versus The Blue M&M”
In a 23-page opinion, Judge Denny Chin of the Southern District of New York ruled yesterday that confectioner Mars inc. did not violate the right of publicity of well-known Times Square entertainer Robert Burck, AKA the Naked Cowboy.
Mars had run a billboard video of its iconic M&M cartoon character in a variety of NY-centric contexts, including one scene in which the character was “wearing only a white cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and underpants, and carrying a guitar–Burck’s regular get-up.
New York’s publicity law (Sections 50 and 51 of the state’s Civil Rights Code) is among the most stringent in the nation, applying to “any recognizable likeness” of a person used in a commercial context, making the win an especially sweet one for Mars. An M&M in underpants and cowboy hat, said the court, was simply not a depiction of Burck.
The court, however, refused to render summary judgment on the Naked Cowboy’s Lanham Act claim of false endorsement, on the grounds that passers-by might confuse the M&M video for the Cowboy’s (somewhat dubious?) endorsement. (Earlier coverage).
Great Moments in Voir Dire
Newsweek reports on Laura Day, a $10,000-per-month psychic to the powerful, who’s gained a few clients in the legal profession:
A Manhattan attorney who serves as special counsel to several white-shoe law firms has used Day’s insights to help her select juries and anticipate the opposing team’s arguments. “Day saves me thousands of minutes on my cell phone” working a case, says the attorney, who also didn’t want to be publicly identified.
Day denies that she has psychic powers, per se; rather, she has “intuition,” a term more palatable to her clients, “red-meat-eating, Barneys-shopping, Type A personalities.” (The $10,000-a-Month Psychic, Newsweek, Jun 30.)
13 Years, 16 Lawyers, 10 Judges, No Divorce Settlement
In 2001, a Florida court awarded Marlene Forand a $240,000 divorce settlement, plus $6,000 per month in permanent alimony and attorney’s fees, from ex-husband Bob in 2001, 6 years after their marriage ended. So why is she living with her mother and taking public support? The St. Petersburg Times reports that the lawyers who botched enforcement of the claim in Alabama, Bob’s new home state, somehow ended up with only a $162,000 judgment from her ex and took more than half that in legal fees, leaving Forand, after paying off some marriage debts, with nothing at all.
But wasn’t the ex supposed to pick up the bill?
No, her lawyers said. She signed contracts with them. She owed them. If she wanted Bob to pay her legal fees, she would have to sue him. Of course, that would mean more legal fees.
Marlene was famous for her fiery e-mails. She sent one to Haas:
“Why should I suffer and have to pay attorney’s fees to make him pay for what was already ordained in the Florida court? I’m still left holding the debt from the marriage judgments for 20 years and he walks free. This I will not tolerate. What’s the next move?”
…
Forand kicked Haas off the case (for the second time) in 2006 and is now representing herself. “This is not the end,” she told the Times. “If I’ve learned anything about the law, I’ve learned you can always file another motion. You can always object.”
But after 13 years of litigation, the Florida judiciary has a less rosy view of Forand’s prospects. Responding to Forand’s motion to compel Bob to swear that he had no documentation of any of his assets, a Tampa judge despaired, “Even if I rule 100 percent in your favor, I’m just going to add another piece of paper [to your casefile] — the next page of Volume 13.” (“A Divorce, Unsettled,” St. Petersburg Times, Jun. 22).
Benched for Your Own Good
Is a coach liable for any injuries when he asks an injured athlete to return to the game? It’s the final scene of just about every hard-luck sports flick ever filmed.
In a recent article, Prof. Timothy Davis of Wake Forest Law observes that coach liability is a real risk in amateur and school athletics. “Coaches owe a duty of care to their students not to increase risks that are inherent in a sport.” Thus have coaches been held liable, from time to time, for their players’ injuries.
But what about in the wide world of professional sports? There’s not much precedent, but it should be possible:
The forgoing cases suggest that, where an athlete is injured as a consequence of a coach acting in a manner that is outside the realm of his or her expertise, potential liability based on recklessness might ensue. This is particularly the case where coaches have actual or constructive appreciation of the potential risks that might flow from their conduct. Such would be the case when a coach’s decision is contrary to medical advice. Similarly, a coach’s demand that an athlete return to play, given the coach’s absence of medical expertise, arguably provides evidence of recklessness, since it disregards an immediate and readily ascertainable risk, in contrast to an abstract possibility of risk.
Still, Davis lists a variety of bars to liability–worker’s comp, athletic “culture,” federal preemption, arbitration, etc.–and concludes that pro coaches don’t face great incentives to protect players’ health–at least, not yet.
The trial-bar-friendly New York Times has gone a bit overboard of late agitating about concussions in football. Davis, however, points to the league’s response as a model of how to make progress outside of the courtroom.