than two years and had only been in Chancery for a few months. Ben had never had a case before him and wanted to get a sense for how he ran his courtroom before he had to appear in front of him.
At thirty-six, Judge Reilly was the youngest judge in the Daley Center courthouse. He was a tall, athletic man who had played basketball in college—albeit at a Division III school. He had bright-red hair and a fair complexion that flushed easily if he got annoyed or embarrassed, both of which happened while Ben watched. At one point, the judge, whose background was in criminal law, blushed noticeably when he stumbled over a point of civil procedure and had to be corrected by one of the lawyers. Ten minutes later, he turned crimson when a lawyer ignored his instruction to avoid repeating arguments that had already been made in writing in the briefs.
Judge Reilly’s rulings were a mixed bag. There weren’t many that were clearly wrong, but a lot of them were questionable. The judge seemed to always search for a middle ground between the parties, regardless of what the law required. That worried Ben. He was pretty sure that the blitz of motions that Karl’s lawyers had promised would be mostly meritless, but Judge Reilly wasn’t completely denying many motions, regardless of their merit. What if the judge decided to compromise by granting only some of the other side’s unreasonable requests?
Ben slipped out of the courtroom near the end of the hearing and headed back to his office. He stopped in at a deli and picked up a grilled prosciutto-and-avocado sandwich to eat at his desk while he worked. He was going to be very busy over the next few days.
He went straight to Noelle’s office and found her leafing through a fat accordion file of documents festooned with annotated Post-its. He admired her delicate, pretty profile for a moment before interrupting her. “Hi, honey. Those the documents from Gunnar?”
She nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“Anything interesting?”
She nodded again. “It’s not what I was expecting, though. You said you thought there was WorldCom-type stuff going on at Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals. There isn’t. Or, at least, if there is, these documents don’t show it.”
Ben settled himself into one of the office chairs and took out his sandwich. “So what is going on?”
Her eyes latched onto the sandwich. “Prosciutto and avocado?”
“Yep. From the Washington Street Deli. Want some?”
She hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t.”
“I’m sure it’ll go straight to the baby.”
“Or somewhere nearby. No, thanks.” She pulled her eyes away from the sandwich and selected a document from the accordion file. “WorldCom got into trouble for trying to make their books look better than they were. They would create fake revenue and hide their expenses to boost the profits they reported. Enron used different tricks, but achieved the same basic result. That’s what virtually all public companies do when they commit accounting fraud.”
Ben swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “Except for Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals, right?”
“Right.” She gestured to the document in her hand. “It looks like they’ve actually fudged their numbers to reduce profits by three or four million dollars each of the last two years.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “That’s weird. Are you sure?”
“No. Like I said, it looks that way. But these documents are incomplete; it seems like Gunnar just saved copies of random financial statements and wire transfers that caught his attention. Also, some of the key documents are in Norwegian. Gunnar translated them for me, but he’s not an accountant. What I’ve just told you is a guess, but it’s an educated guess.”
“So why would Karl be trying to keep profits down ?” Ben asked before taking another bite of his sandwich.
“Good question. I’ve heard of executives doing that to drive down the company’s stock price, but only when they’re planning a buyout and want the
At thirty-six, Judge Reilly was the youngest judge in the Daley Center courthouse. He was a tall, athletic man who had played basketball in college—albeit at a Division III school. He had bright-red hair and a fair complexion that flushed easily if he got annoyed or embarrassed, both of which happened while Ben watched. At one point, the judge, whose background was in criminal law, blushed noticeably when he stumbled over a point of civil procedure and had to be corrected by one of the lawyers. Ten minutes later, he turned crimson when a lawyer ignored his instruction to avoid repeating arguments that had already been made in writing in the briefs.
Judge Reilly’s rulings were a mixed bag. There weren’t many that were clearly wrong, but a lot of them were questionable. The judge seemed to always search for a middle ground between the parties, regardless of what the law required. That worried Ben. He was pretty sure that the blitz of motions that Karl’s lawyers had promised would be mostly meritless, but Judge Reilly wasn’t completely denying many motions, regardless of their merit. What if the judge decided to compromise by granting only some of the other side’s unreasonable requests?
Ben slipped out of the courtroom near the end of the hearing and headed back to his office. He stopped in at a deli and picked up a grilled prosciutto-and-avocado sandwich to eat at his desk while he worked. He was going to be very busy over the next few days.
He went straight to Noelle’s office and found her leafing through a fat accordion file of documents festooned with annotated Post-its. He admired her delicate, pretty profile for a moment before interrupting her. “Hi, honey. Those the documents from Gunnar?”
She nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“Anything interesting?”
She nodded again. “It’s not what I was expecting, though. You said you thought there was WorldCom-type stuff going on at Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals. There isn’t. Or, at least, if there is, these documents don’t show it.”
Ben settled himself into one of the office chairs and took out his sandwich. “So what is going on?”
Her eyes latched onto the sandwich. “Prosciutto and avocado?”
“Yep. From the Washington Street Deli. Want some?”
She hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t.”
“I’m sure it’ll go straight to the baby.”
“Or somewhere nearby. No, thanks.” She pulled her eyes away from the sandwich and selected a document from the accordion file. “WorldCom got into trouble for trying to make their books look better than they were. They would create fake revenue and hide their expenses to boost the profits they reported. Enron used different tricks, but achieved the same basic result. That’s what virtually all public companies do when they commit accounting fraud.”
Ben swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “Except for Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals, right?”
“Right.” She gestured to the document in her hand. “It looks like they’ve actually fudged their numbers to reduce profits by three or four million dollars each of the last two years.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “That’s weird. Are you sure?”
“No. Like I said, it looks that way. But these documents are incomplete; it seems like Gunnar just saved copies of random financial statements and wire transfers that caught his attention. Also, some of the key documents are in Norwegian. Gunnar translated them for me, but he’s not an accountant. What I’ve just told you is a guess, but it’s an educated guess.”
“So why would Karl be trying to keep profits down ?” Ben asked before taking another bite of his sandwich.
“Good question. I’ve heard of executives doing that to drive down the company’s stock price, but only when they’re planning a buyout and want the
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