“Dan, that’s similar to a case I had with Judge Millsberg a year ago,” said Ridge. “It seemed my client died after leaving his car on in the garage. He had the remote in his pocket and it looked like he walked away without shutting the vehicle off. But we downloaded the black box on board and found out the car had in fact been turned on after he left the garage.”
“After?” said Dan.
“Right. Turns out the casing on the remote was defective. The start button protruded above the rest of the case, making it easy to inadvertently start the vehicle if for example you sat or laid down on the remote-control unit.”
Dan’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.”
“Unfortunately, no. Carbon monoxide saturated my client’s small house, and he died overnight. You know, manufacturers compete to make their engines as silent as possible, and often you don’t even know if the engine is running when you’re in the car, let alone elsewhere in a house.”
“That’s for damn sure,” said Dan.
“Bottom line,” said Ridge, “the manufacturer should have analyzed and tested the fob to ensure the start button didn’t stick out beyond the casing and, as a further safety measure, installed a loud-warning chip in the remote to warn the driver that the engine was on if he or she got more than ten feet or so from the vehicle. But to save time, to save money, or because of plain old apathy, it didn’t do either.”
Justin spoke up at that point. “Mr. Ridge, I think my mom told me about your case. I’m a first-year law student at UCLA, and she used it as an example of potential dangers from new products and related theories of liability. Before your case, she’d never heard of such a thing.”
“Neither had I.” Ridge shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s blessing or curse, but I always seem to get the cases no one has heard of—like the unstable SUVs back in the 90’s that were too tall and too narrow and rolled over if they got sideways on the road. Until I, and some of my colleagues across the country, started winning those cases, no one believed there was a risk.”
“We believe today,” said Justin, his voice tinged with righteous anger.
“Now most people understand the dangers associated with unstable vehicles and stay away from them. As a result, manufacturers have been making cross-over vehicles which offer the convenience of an SUV, but are shorter, wider, safer. Those design changes have saved lives.”
Dan rubbed his chin. “Wait a minute. Here’s what I don’t get. If Judge Millsberg knew of your keyless-remote case, how could she fall victim to the same danger? Why would she get out of the car, lower the garage door, and go lie down in the nearby guest room with the remote in her pocket?”
“Well, her remote may look different but have a similar defect,” said Ridge. “We can test that later. But right now, my best guess is she must have been dazed from that bike accident you mentioned, had the remote in her pocket, and didn’t hear the engine start when she laid down on the remote device. Look, clearly all the facts aren’t in. Let’s start by seeing the garage and the guest room where the judge died. And I’d like to study the SUV and its remote too.”
Dan stood and the others followed his lead. “Officially this is no longer a crime scene,” he said. “That’s why I told Terry yesterday that it’d be easier to show you than tell you the details.”
“Justin, is it OK if we take photos?” Ridge asked. “Terry’s got his camera.”
“Of course.”
Forty-five minutes later, they gathered back in the patio area. Ridge turned to Dan. “Did you find any other physical evidence?”
Dan shook his head. “None.”
“What about pathology? When will we get that?”
Dan smiled. “Happy to report, the amazing Dr. Sanchez is on it.”
Ridge smiled. Timothy Sanchez was among the best medical examiners nationwide, if not the best. He held a medical degree and a Ph.D. in biomedical engineering from the University of Wisconsin in Milwaukee.
Justin raised his hand like a schoolboy. “Who’s Dr. Sanchez?”
“He’s on part-time contract as a coroner with Los Angeles and Orange Counties for crime scene investigations and pathology studies,” Ridge said. “He also practices as a private consultant in cases where L.A. or Orange counties aren’t parties. We’ve worked together for years.”
“Thank you.” Justin smiled. “That’s terrific.”
“He’s our number one choice as expert whenever ‘cause of injury’ or ‘cause of death’ is an issue, which in product liability cases is almost always. Most manufacturers defend product design lawsuits to the hilt rather than ever admit a defect and open themselves up to a tsunami of cases and what could be billions in liability payouts.”
Ridge turned to Dan. “When will the good Dr. Sanchez have his report ready?”
“He did the autopsy last week. But needed to leave town afterwards. So yesterday I set up a meeting with him for tomorrow morning at the morgue. You and Terry can attend as family representatives—if that’s OK with Justin.”
“Mr. Ridge,” said Justin, “I would really appreciate that.” The young man’s eyes glistened and he cleared his throat. “I…I lost my father three years ago in a car accident. Now, my mother. Truth is, I’m not doing so great right now.”
“Consider it done,” said Ridge.
“And I almost forgot,” said Justin, “I’ve got to tell you—I’m really, really sorry. I jumped the gun and gave your name to a Orange County Register reporter last Thursday. Before we had a chance to meet. But with Sergeant Thompson’s recommendation and my call to your office on Wednesday, well, I just got ahead of myself.”
“Oh, no harm, no foul,” Ridge said. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”
“One other thing,” Justin continued. “My mom’s memorial service will be Saturday evening at 7:30 p.m. at Rolling Hills Cemetery. I know it’s short notice, but I would love if you and Mr. Pao attended. I’ve already invited Sergeant Thompson, but he’ll be on duty in L.A.”
Ridge glanced at Terry who gave him a quick thumb’s up. “Thank you, Justin. We’ll be there.”
“Shit, there’s a black Supra. Two cars back.” Ridge leaned forward and reached into the glovebox for Terry’s pistol. They’d been on the road for a while, headed back to the Beach Cities, and Ridge had been staring at the passenger side mirror.
“Easy big fella,” Terry said. “Been watching him. Two people in the car, and it’s got a front license plate. Not our guy. And to prove it—they just flashed their right blinker to exit up ahead.”
Ridge let his head drop back against the headrest. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little spooked.”
“A whack on the head and a stalker can do that.”
Ridge wagged his head left and right in short shakes, like a wobble-head doll. “Just not used to this, I guess.”
