barely summon enough energy to talk. “I saw the front grill in my rearview mirror, and I knew he was going to pass. When he started to go around me, I saw another car coming.”
Ghaniyah shrugged and looked past Shannon, as if trying to see the accident happen. “I tried to slow down, but the truck couldn’t get by fast enough and came back into my lane, so I swerved to the right. . . .”
Her voice trailed off, and Khalid touched her shoulder gently. “She remembers heading toward a tree, and that’s basically the last thing she remembers,” he explained. He talked as if Ghaniyah wasn’t in the room. “The doctors say she’s lucky the injuries weren’t worse. In fact, she’s fortunate to be alive.”
For the next few minutes, Shannon peppered both of the Mobassars with more questions. Was the car totaled? Did Ghaniyah remember anything about the license plate number of the truck? the color? any writing on the side?
Ghaniyah apologized but couldn’t remember much in the way of details. The cab was red, she remembered. And the trailer was white. There was writing on the side of the truck, but she couldn’t remember what it said. Everything had happened so quickly. And there was a picture on the side as well—fruits, maybe vegetables. It was some kind of produce truck, maybe. Ghaniyah had no idea about the license plate number. She wasn’t sure that she ever saw the back of the truck.
Her melancholy demeanor and pained expression were a stark contrast to Shannon’s bubbly enthusiasm. “It’s okay,” Shannon told her. “You’re doing great just remembering this much. Your main job is to get better.”
When Shannon finished her questions, Alex pulled the contract from his file. Alex and Shannon had decided beforehand that he should be the one to present it, given the inclination toward male authority in the Muslim world.
As usual, he had actually brought two contracts along—he would first present the one that gave the firm one-third if they settled and 40 percent if they had to file suit. If the Mobassars balked, Alex would whip out a second contract with identical terms except the percentages were lower—25 percent if the case settled and one-third if they filed suit.
But as he watched Ghaniyah’s lifeless demeanor and her husband’s tender manner, Alex suddenly felt a little guilty for conspiring to take so much of his client’s money. Unless they could find the truck driver, the Mobassars would recover a maximum of $67,000 after attorney’s fees, an amount that probably wouldn’t even cover the medical bills. And it looked like Ghaniyah might need some kind of long-term care unless she improved.
Alex put the contract with the smaller percentages on top. “I think we’ve got enough information to move forward,” he said. “We need to let Mrs. Mobassar get some rest.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded and gave her a smile.
He explained how contingency fee contracts worked—“We don’t get paid unless we win”—and told Khalid that it was important that the firm get started on the investigation right away. “You can read it if you want—” Alex shrugged, eyeing the two-page contract as if it were a copy of War and Peace —“but most people just sign.”
“I’m sorry,” Khalid said as Alex handed him the contract. “But I’ve learned to read everything. Is it okay?”
“Of course.”
“Would you like another piece of baklava?” Ghaniyah asked.
“No, I’m good. But it was great.”
Alex and Shannon waited in awkward silence as Khalid reviewed each provision of the contract. To make it worse, Khalid’s cell phone rang; he answered it, asked Alex and Shannon to excuse him for a second, and took the phone into a different room. They could hear him speaking rapidly in Arabic.
After Khalid left, Ghaniyah just stared straight ahead, and Alex started talking to Shannon about the case just to ease the awkwardness. Alex thought about how natural it was to talk
Ghaniyah shrugged and looked past Shannon, as if trying to see the accident happen. “I tried to slow down, but the truck couldn’t get by fast enough and came back into my lane, so I swerved to the right. . . .”
Her voice trailed off, and Khalid touched her shoulder gently. “She remembers heading toward a tree, and that’s basically the last thing she remembers,” he explained. He talked as if Ghaniyah wasn’t in the room. “The doctors say she’s lucky the injuries weren’t worse. In fact, she’s fortunate to be alive.”
For the next few minutes, Shannon peppered both of the Mobassars with more questions. Was the car totaled? Did Ghaniyah remember anything about the license plate number of the truck? the color? any writing on the side?
Ghaniyah apologized but couldn’t remember much in the way of details. The cab was red, she remembered. And the trailer was white. There was writing on the side of the truck, but she couldn’t remember what it said. Everything had happened so quickly. And there was a picture on the side as well—fruits, maybe vegetables. It was some kind of produce truck, maybe. Ghaniyah had no idea about the license plate number. She wasn’t sure that she ever saw the back of the truck.
Her melancholy demeanor and pained expression were a stark contrast to Shannon’s bubbly enthusiasm. “It’s okay,” Shannon told her. “You’re doing great just remembering this much. Your main job is to get better.”
When Shannon finished her questions, Alex pulled the contract from his file. Alex and Shannon had decided beforehand that he should be the one to present it, given the inclination toward male authority in the Muslim world.
As usual, he had actually brought two contracts along—he would first present the one that gave the firm one-third if they settled and 40 percent if they had to file suit. If the Mobassars balked, Alex would whip out a second contract with identical terms except the percentages were lower—25 percent if the case settled and one-third if they filed suit.
But as he watched Ghaniyah’s lifeless demeanor and her husband’s tender manner, Alex suddenly felt a little guilty for conspiring to take so much of his client’s money. Unless they could find the truck driver, the Mobassars would recover a maximum of $67,000 after attorney’s fees, an amount that probably wouldn’t even cover the medical bills. And it looked like Ghaniyah might need some kind of long-term care unless she improved.
Alex put the contract with the smaller percentages on top. “I think we’ve got enough information to move forward,” he said. “We need to let Mrs. Mobassar get some rest.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded and gave her a smile.
He explained how contingency fee contracts worked—“We don’t get paid unless we win”—and told Khalid that it was important that the firm get started on the investigation right away. “You can read it if you want—” Alex shrugged, eyeing the two-page contract as if it were a copy of War and Peace —“but most people just sign.”
“I’m sorry,” Khalid said as Alex handed him the contract. “But I’ve learned to read everything. Is it okay?”
“Of course.”
“Would you like another piece of baklava?” Ghaniyah asked.
“No, I’m good. But it was great.”
Alex and Shannon waited in awkward silence as Khalid reviewed each provision of the contract. To make it worse, Khalid’s cell phone rang; he answered it, asked Alex and Shannon to excuse him for a second, and took the phone into a different room. They could hear him speaking rapidly in Arabic.
After Khalid left, Ghaniyah just stared straight ahead, and Alex started talking to Shannon about the case just to ease the awkwardness. Alex thought about how natural it was to talk
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