‘The Velvet Hammer” Blog

We are all gathered. Back in the courtroom. Two and a half hours after closing ended. The presiding juror has handed the verdict up. The judge has read it. Trying to keep face unreadable. Hands it to the bailiff. Who reads it.

On Tuesday mediation failed which means the wrongful death trial will start August 19. Before my mind switches to battle mode, another thought fills my mind. And that thought turns to feelings. And those feelings begin to spread throughout my body. And then I cry.

After Nala died I fled to New York for a few weeks. Partly to visit Noelle but also to avoid being in the house on Queen Anne hill. Where Nala lived with me for 13 of her 16 years.

We drive down the hill to watch the sunset from the beach. Phuong has come for a visit.

We first met in the hospital She had just turned 18. Barely escaped death. During the Ride the Duck crash of September 2015. After the ducks lost its axle and crossed the center line it rammed into and through the tour bus full of international students. If Phuong had been sitting one seat back she would not be here today.

After hearing I was heading back into trial, a lovely friend from kindergarten urged me to retire. What more do you need Karen. What more do you have to prove. You deserve to relax and spend more time being a grandma. All good and valid points.

Postscript: this is from my trial diary of prophylaxis class action against seattle children’s hospital.

 Trial day 3

6:00     Cockadoodle doo.  Wake up. 

6:25     Get up and make bed.

6:45     White T. tan lulu shorts.  Pink crock slides. Pink sweater jacket picked up over the weekend once decided to stay another week.

We settled the protest case for $10M the day before.  Actually it had been lingering for a week since the mediation.  When the city agreed to a deal then two stepped before refusing to put it in writing. Double crossers.

At first I thought, well Karen - how ridiculous that you would think that you should get award and be mad that you didn’t. As a woman raised in the 60s - we were taught not to be forward, not to expect, to do good work, hope we would be recognized, and not be disappointed when the much louder boys got noticed instead.

But that 60s meek attitude is not how you claw to and survive at the top in the paternalistic world of lawyers. Plus I was raised by parents who believed that if you didn’t fight for yourself and others, then what was the point.

Last week, the City told me that a yard blower was a weapon and grounds for arrest when used by a protester to protect others from tear gas. Number of victims: 0. A few days later, the parents of Summer Taylor gave gut wrenching statements during the sentencing the drunk (drugs primarily) driver who took their child’s life and almost killed another.

Dad turned 90 this week. The family got together at Debbie & Rob’s house to celebrate the way we usually do. With dim sum and cake.

Since covid entered the world, have dramatically curtailed speaking travel. But times are changing. And when the request comes in from the Colorado trial lawyers women’s caucus. I say yes. Even though Anne says: are you suuuuuurrrrreeeee. And wags her eyebrows at me.

We had just turned down Wyoming because there was no direct flight and it would have been an 8 hour trip. But this one is a simple flight to Denver which is not far away. Then an hour and a half drive to the resort. Piece of cake I enthuse. Anne gives me a knowing look.

Hi Karen,

It’s been a while since my case settled in 2010, but you would remember me as ‘Colleen McCallum v. Allstate Insurance’ for a Bad Faith Claim with co-counsel Michael Fisher from Rush, Hannula, Harkins & Kyler.

That MVA was in 2004, and the lawsuits took over 6 years - it was a huge relief once it was finally settled.

Have you ever wondered how much a city will spend in legal fees - to defeat a lawsuit. Let’s say for example, one brought by peaceful BLM protesters who claim their First Amendment rights were violated when the city’s police pepper sprayed, tear gassed, flash banged, blast balled and body slammed them.

It is the second night of our attorney retreat. We are at the Stritmatters’ house in Maui. Listening to guitars. Watching the chefs pulling culinary delights from the pizza oven. The sun has set. And we are a smiling, talking and celebrating Paul’s 80th birthday.

We are also wondering - where are Fred and Furhad.

Forgive me for laughing hysterically at the concept of the City of Seattle owning up to its brutalization of peaceful protesters. As was just recommended by the 4th Sentinel Review - the City supported investigation and look back at the SPD’s response to the George Floyd protest season.

Today am covering the deposition of JR - a protester whose hand was struck by a blast ball munition thrown by the SPD. As he was trying to leave the protest zone. While this deposition is going, Shannon and Kristin are doing final edits to the massive summary judgment oppositions that are due today - motions brought by the City to dismiss two other protesters’ claims.

Trial is high drama. And never more so than when a celebrity is involved. In the latest courtroom spectacle a retired optometrist takes on an Oscar award winning actor now lifestyle guru. Is this trial about the judge - no; the lawyers - no; the witnesses - nope. It is all about Gwyneth and the Dr. And no matter which side you rooted for, there are several universal truths which are self evident.

15 years ago Paul Stritmatter told me I needed to hire a paralegal named Anne Roberson. I was in trial. And declined. He persisted and said I needed to meet her. Eventually. Reluctantly. I did. That day changed me fundamentally because Anne became a member of the firm and part of my life.

For sentimental reasons have been hanging on to the last few pairs. Actually wear a few of them in trials this year. But as 2022 comes to an end. So does my desire (mostly) to ever wear high heels again.

It started in earnest in the disco years. Attended the U of W refusing to wear the uniform of jeans and flats. Can remember walking across red square (which is brick) on my toes - even in the rain.

Lululemon dress day 3 of 5 returns to court. JHB has been outfitted with the big podium and a comfortable stool. The podium is directly between our parallel tables. He would be on top of our clients. I sit below him instead. They move back. Out of the way.

JHB has had all night to prepare. And we all settle in. Judge Kn addresses us. Are we ready. And we both say yes.

Not only do we not finish. But am crying again. On the phone with Alysha and Noelle. Making journey back from Ephrata to the hotel in George.

Rewind.

We don’t finish.

Have packed up the car. Exited the hotel. Am wearing my last court outfit. And we are not going to finish.

Rewind.

Wake up an hour early.Unsettled.Had been working on closing at night.And it still has not all the way come together.Lie there.And let brain bounce wherever it wants to go.There’s a lot of noise involved in this case.Mudslinging.Collateral issues.Family drama.

Once was asked to give a speech on how to communicate with adjusters. Showed up and told the group that my rule of thumb was to never talk to them at all.

In furtherance of our study of mediation technique and the prettiness of our craft, see below.

From: Mediator
Sent: Thursday, July 28, 2022 2:09 PM
To: Karen Koehler <karenk@stritmatter.com>
Subject: Re: Mediation of A v. B 6/1/2022, 9:00 a.m. – 1:00 p.m.

Hi Karen,

I spoke with R.L. on another matter and he advised that Allstate has re-evaluated after the mediation and is ready to re-engage in negotiations.

J Mc is undergoing cross. Doing well. JHB is attacking her with collateral issues. But they are messy. And mess is always good for the defense. Distracts. Confuses. Brief redirect. Jury questions. There are too many of them. Some of them are pointed. I don’t like them as a whole. JHB is elated. Saying: I agree to all of them with a flourish.

The seesaw of doubt is ever present in trial. My innards flow depending on how everything is tilting. Sometimes perhaps I make it up in my mind. But I’ve done enough trials to know to trust my innards. They feel even when I don’t want them to. Squelch the feeling.