Health / Wellness

The Ambulance Chaser

The client signs, and when the case settles, the addicted lawyer will have a little more money to feed the beast.

By  
on

Addiction took me to many places in my career as a lawyer that I am not proud of.  One of those places was the classic “ambulance chaser.” I use the term knowing that it has a negative stereotype connotation and there are many outstanding personal injury lawyers out there. I was not one of them. I was one of the reasons for the stereotype. (This is an excerpt from my book.)

1995: A trip to the chiropractor. I’m not going for an adjustment. I haven’t been in an auto accident, but I know many others have. It’s how I get my cases — soft tissue injury ambulance chasing. I have relationships with chiropractors around the city incubated during my time as a claims adjuster. Their waiting rooms become mobile offices. I carry blank contingency representation agreements with me in my briefcase, contracts that will grant me a portion of any settlement or trial award. I know the diagnosis by heart: “Soft tissue strain of the lower neck and back. Recommend X-rays of the lumbar or cervical spine, and numerous therapy sessions.” In other words, whiplash.

“Have you met Mr. Cuban? If you decide you want one, he is an excellent attorney. We highly recommend him. If you decide to retain Mr. Cuban or another lawyer, we will treat you with no money up front.”

My personal injury résumé rarely comes up. They don’t care. They just want their treatments paid for. I can’t sell myself. I have a vague awareness that directly soliciting clients is frowned upon. I walk the line between solicitation and recommendation by sitting mute with a smile and a handshake during the process.

If after the sales pitch by the doctor, the patient is interested, the briefcase opens. Out comes the contingency agreement and the letter of protection which guarantees the chiropractor payment from any eventual settlement. I know it will settle. If the client wants more money, I’ll cut my fee, anything to avoid a courtroom. If the client insists on going to trial, I’ll refer the case to a lawyer who is not afraid of litigation.

I have trouble looking the potential client in the eye as my legal brilliance is being sold for me. I know the truth. I stare down at the scuffed, 10-year-old black Florsheims on my feet. The client signs, and when the case settles, I’ll have a little more money to feed the beast.

During the drive home my mind keeps drifting to Paul Newman. He plays the down-and-out alcoholic lawyer Frank Galvin in the movie The Verdict. Frank is also an ambulance chaser. A “drunk.” Divorced. Reading the obituaries as if they were want ads. Frank Galvin shows up at funeral parlors. The chiropractor’s office is my funeral parlor. I’m Frank Galvin.  When I watch “The Verdict,” I sometimes wonder how Frank’s life would go after his big win as an alcoholic not in recovery and committing malpractice in his handling of the case.  A lawyer who got lucky despite himself versus a lawyer redeemed. During that long drive home with my signed contingency agreements, there are no thoughts of redemption.

Sponsored

Brian Cuban (@bcuban) is The Addicted Lawyer. Brian is the author of the Amazon best-selling book, The Addicted Lawyer: Tales Of The Bar, Booze, Blow & Redemption (affiliate link). A graduate of the University of Pittsburgh School of Law, he somehow made it through as an alcoholic then added cocaine to his résumé as a practicing attorney. He went into recovery April 8, 2007. He left the practice of law and now writes and speaks on recovery topics, not only for the legal profession, but on recovery in general. He can be reached at brian@addictedlawyer.com.

Sponsored

Topics

, , , , , ,