Little Derek jumped off and held it up. “Mr. Ridge. Hi! Saw this board in the water. Thought it might be yours. The kind you keep near your dock box.”
“It is,” said Ridge. Then he turned toward Terry, now standing. “It’s my other one. Must have fallen in, Sunday night, with all the commotion.” Pivoting back to Derek and Tommy, Ridge said, “Keep it. It’s yours now.”
Both boys beamed, and said together, “Thanks Mr. Ridge!”
“Just one thing,” said Ridge. “Be careful with that plastic bubble. It can crack, if it’s hit hard by something.” Both boys nodded, with wide eyes, as only kids could. Ridge waved goodbye and headed back to settle in at the table.
Terry squinted. “What about fingerprints? Maybe the hulk touched both.”
“On the board? Not after 36 hours soaking in salt water, and an eight-year-old—all over it.”
“Right.”
Ridge went back to slathering butter on his bagel. “So, where were we?”
“Uncle Cho.”
“OK. What’s the story?”
Terry pulled off his tie and relaxed back in the seat. “Originally Uncle Cho got sued for implanting a defective mesh, called Ringstone, during a hernia operation.”
“Right. He’s the surgeon.”
“Yeah. The mesh was supposed to hold things together—internally. But it was a defective design. It popped, tearing up the patient inside, which led to a painful death.”
“I remember reading about the Ringstone Mesh. Hundreds of lawsuits filed. People maimed or killed all over the country. But Ringstone, Inc. simply went bankrupt. Escaped liability, right?”
“Right, leaving hundreds of patients suffering or dead, and doctors holding the bag. But my uncle, for one, felt guilty. Ringstone had wined and dined him for weeks. Paid for two cruise seminars to get him to be among the first to use the mesh. Uncle Cho felt he should have researched more and been entertained less.”
“Did your uncle settle with his patient’s family?” asked Ridge, biting through a bagel.
“Yeah, that’s the thing. He wanted to settle with the widow and her two young children. But his insurance defense lawyer kept pressing the case.”
“Oh shit, don’t tell me. The insurance company didn’t want him to settle because they also insured hundreds of other doctors who used the Ringstone Mesh. Didn’t want to set a precedent that could lead to other lawsuits and other payouts?”
“Exactly. And Uncle Cho, being Uncle Cho, hired another lawyer, on his own, to file suit against the insurance company.”
“On what grounds?”
“He asked the judge to disqualify his insurance defense lawyer because he had a conflict of interest.”
“I see,” said Ridge, slowly nodding. “A conflict between doing what the insurance company wanted and what his client, Uncle Cho, wanted.”
“And because of the conflict, Uncle Cho asked the judge to order his insurance company to pay for another lawyer, one with no prior or pending work for any insurance company. In that way, the lawyer’s advice could truly be independent of the insurance industry.”
Ridge put his bagel down and made a T with his hands. “Whoa. Time out. That’s the ‘Silent Conflict’. Always bothered me. Can impact anyone with insurance.”
“The silent what?” Terry put his coffee cup on the table.
“A multi-billion-dollar bombshell. Something few lawyers or judges ever mention.”
“I don’t get it.” Terry refilled his cup.
Talking through a mouthful of bagel, Ridge explained. “As you know, all insurance defense lawyers in America—and we’re talking hundreds of law firms and thousands of lawyers—owe their livelihoods to the insurance industry. It pays them. It makes or breaks them. The insured, like your uncle, is the lawyer’s client; but the insurance company remains his principal.”
“Like having two bosses.”
“That’s right. And every day some insurance defense lawyer somewhere faces the tension of two masters—anytime doing something, anything, on a case might benefit the insurance company to the detriment of the client. That’s a conflict—pure and simple.”
“Like what?”
“Like not spending enough money on investigation or discovery. Like hiring cheaper or fewer litigation experts. Like continuing to litigate a case—say your Uncle’s, which should really be settled, because the insurance company is worried about setting precedent for other cases. Or even settling a case that should be continued to limit future expenses. Almost every aspect of litigation.”
“I get it,” said Terry, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. “But where does the silent part come in?”
“The bottom line is no one ever talks about these conflicts. If they did, it could cost insurance companies big time. I’m talking billions. They’d have to hire independent lawyers for their insured drivers, homeowners, businesspeople—all their insureds.”
Terry nodded slowly. “And insurance companies would have little to no control over the independent lawyers. They’d always do what’s best for the client. Which might not be best for the insurance industry.”
Ridge flashed a grin. “Money and control—two sides, same coin. Called power. That’s what it’s all about in the insurance world, amigo.” Just then Ridge heard something on the dock and turned. “Holy shit.”
“Hulk?” Terry asked, pulling his leg piece as a big guy in a black diver’s suit and mask, carrying scuba tanks, marched down the finger dock toward them.
“No. Hold it.” Ridge huffed out a laugh, waving at the diver, who now waved back. “It’s Mike. Takes care of boat bottoms in the marina.”
As Terry holstered his pistol again, Mike walked closer and said, “Hey, okay if I do the bottom now? Needs scraping and some new zincs.”
“Sure. By the way, have you seen any other divers in the area lately, especially at night?”
