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Marc Kadella was a lawyer with a solo practice representing primarily criminal defense clients. He was in his mid-thirties, married, with two high school age children. He had both a son, Eric, and a daughter Jessica.

Marc was a standard Minnesota male. Six feet tall, sandy colored hair, blue-eyed Scandinavian and Welsh ancestry. Being married with children, Marc worked his way through law school. He attended the night class of a local school graduating in the top-half.

Marc had excelled at the moot court trial competition. In fact, he had thoroughly impressed a competition judge. Stewart Grim was a senior partner in an insurance defense litigation firm in downtown St. Paul. Offered a six-figure income, Marc jumped at it. After three years, he was borderline suicidal.

The first two years were spent putting in 80-90 hour weeks. Billable hours were the mother’s milk of these firms, especially if an insurance company was paying the freight. Marc spent those 90 hour weeks doing work he hated, legal research and brief writing.

The third year he at least was allowed to second chair several trials. That experience was worthwhile. Watching and even participating a little in real trials garnered valuable experience. The downside was watching borderline ethical lawyers manipulate the truth to beat injured victims out of money for the sole purpose of helping an insurance company avoid paying on its contract.

One evening, around eleven o’clock, Marc found himself staring out of a twelfth story window. He was working on a case involving a badly burned young boy, a case Marc wanted the firm to lose. While staring out the window he found himself wondering if it would be less painful to jump through it. It was also the moment he realized he had to get out of there.

Two days later, on a Friday, Marc received a call from a law school pal. His moot court partner, Adam Burns, had fallen into an opportunity right after graduation. Adam’s dad, a judge in Washington County, set Adam up with a legend of the Twin Cities Bar.

Michael, ‘Mickey’ O’Herlihy, was one of top two or three criminal defense lawyers in the Cities and the Upper Midwest. Mickey had been taking young lawyers under his wing for decades. He would get them the experience they needed then turn them loose. There were dozens of lawyers and judges trained by The Mick scattered all over town. Adam Burns was his latest project.

“So, how are you doing, Marc?” Adam sincerely asked.

“I almost jumped out a window at the office two nights ago. I’m not even supposed to be here now. I’m supposed to be chained to my stool, below deck rowing like a galley slave billing hours for the senior partners. Why didn’t someone warn me about this?”

“As I recall, I did warn you. Have you even met a client yet?” Adam asked.

“What’s a client?” Marc answered.

“That’s why I called. Let me ask you this. How much will you make this year?”

“With bonus, one-twenty,” Marc said. “Why?”

“I’m leaving Mickey. I told him I know someone who could take my place,” Adam said.

“Who?” Marc genuinely asked.

“You, dummy. You won’t make one-twenty but you can easily make eighty to ninety. And, the best part is, you’ll have a life. You’ll get reintroduced to Eric and Jessica, probably Karen, too.”

“Who are they?” Marc asked, only half-joking.

“Exactly. I’m out of there by five, five-thirty every day unless I’m in a serious trial. And the cases are a lot more interesting than screwing injury victims out of money for insurance companies.”

“Wait a minute, where are you going?” Marc asked.

“Washington County. Old Alfred Gunderson is retiring after his term is up. I could get in line for his job as county attorney and…”

“With a little help from Judge Dad,” Marc said .

“Yeah, well…” Adam began to say.

“Don’t apologize. You’re a good lawyer,” Marc said.

“Speaking of which, I told Mickey that you were, by far, the most talented litigator in school.”

“I was?”

“Shut up,” Adam laughed. “You know you were. A fish to water. I’m trying to save your life. No more thoughts of jumping out a window. You’ll be a real lawyer, representing real people with very serious problems. In fact, I’ve got forty to fifty thousand dollars’ worth of cases on my desk, right now to hand off to you.”

“Can I think about it?”

“No! Mickey wants to meet you. He loves mentoring lawyers. You’ll learn more from Mickey in the next three months than everything you’ve done since we started law school.”

“I gotta talk to Karen,” Marc said.

“Why?”

“Why? Ever wonder why you’re not married?”

“Not really, no,” Adam answered.

The next Monday morning, the first thing Marc did was see Stewart Grim.

“Hey, Marc, come in,” Stewart said when, after knocking, Marc opened Grim’s door and went in.

“Morning, Stew,” Marc said while taking a seat in a client chair.

“What’s up?”

“There’s no, I don’t know, pleasant wat to say this…”

“Oh, oh,” Stewart said tossing his Mont Blanc on the top of his desk.

“Yeah, I’m giving notice,” Marc said.

“Why?” Stewart asked sincerely.

“I’m dying here. I’m not practicing law. I’m billing hours…”

“You will, you’ll see. Marc, we, me especially, have plans for you. Everyone sees a first-class litigator in you.

“Have you talked to Carol? ”

“Karen,” Marc corrected him. “She introduced me to my son and daughter this past weekend. It was the first weekend I’ve had off since I’ve been here. And for what? Money? It’s not worth it, Stew.”

“I know,” Stewart sighed. “Truth be told, I wish I had left years ago. Does Karen agree with this?”

“Yes, they were delighted.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I met with Mickey O’Herlihy on Saturday. He’s got a place in his office for me,” Marc answered.

“Criminal defense?” Stewart asked and made it sound like Marc had decided to become a gay male prostitute.

“People law,” Marc said. “I’ll represent real people with real problems.”

Stewart looked at Marc silently for several seconds before saying, “I’m sorry, Marc. I shouldn’t have said it like that.

“I was just thinking, back in my law school days, I wanted to do criminal defense. Maybe work for an anti-capital punishment firm. Do good for people. I lost that somewhere along the way.”

“Probably about the time you bought your first Mercedes,” Marc said then immediately regretted it.

Stewart laughed but agreed with him. “Could be,” he said. “Are you sure about this? Give us a couple days to…”

“To what, Stew. Offer me more money? I’m the low guy around here. More money and I’ll be expected to bill even more time to make up for it,” Marc said.

“Probably true. When?”

“Next week, Friday. You want two more weeks? I’ll do that,” Marc said.

“That would be helpful. We need to replace you. Your work and billables are outstanding. Damn, damn, damn,” Stewart said with frustration. “I hate to see you go. I, we, see good things in you.”

“Well, thank you, Stew. I appreciate that,” Marc said.

Both men stood and shook hands while Stewart said, “I need to get back to work. Then I’ll have to meet with a couple of people. They’re going to try to talk you out of it. ”

“Tell them not to bother. I’m already happier and relieved. It’s not the people here, Stew. They’re fine. It’s the job. It’s not me. I can’t do it anymore.”