Kelly saw no reason to get into a big argument in the greenroom. “It’s nothing personal,” she said. “I’m just representing my client.”
She started to walk away and take a seat, but Davids had other ideas. “Have you ever been raped?” she asked.
Kelly stared at her for a second, sure she’d misunderstood the question. “Excuse me?”
“I was. At age sixteen. I spent two years learning jujitsu and was assaulted again at age eighteen. That’s when I bought my first gun.” Davids took a half step closer and lowered her voice. “Nobody’s touched me since.”
This woman is hard-core.
“Look, I know you mean well,” Davids continued. “You’re no doubt one of those big-hearted liberals all fired up about women’s issues. You want to empower women?”
Kelly crossed her arms, choosing not to respond.
“Teach them to shoot. A gun is a woman’s best friend.”
If Kelly hadn’t heard it with her own ears, she probably wouldn’t have believed it. Davids was like a character from a comic book.
“Thanks for the advice,” Kelly said.
The fireworks started again as soon as Kelly and Davids were situated next to each other on the set. For most of the segment, Kelly felt like she was being cross-examined by the show’s host with Davids looking for fun places to pile on. On a few occasions, Davids interrupted Kelly’s answer, raising her voice until Kelly let her talk.
“We’ve been sued thirteen times when some psycho uses one of our guns in a crime,” Davids said, her eyes narrowing. “We’ve been sued in New York, San Francisco, Boston, Philadelphia, and Detroit.” She paused for emphasis. “We’ve yet to pay a dime. The only people making money in these cases are the lawyers, not the victims.”
“Those were different legal theories,” Kelly countered. “Based on your design and marketing of the gun. This case is different. It’s about supplying the black market-”
“That’s no difference,” Davids interrupted. “That’s just lawyer talk.”
Both women argued at once but this time Kelly spoke louder. “I’m not finished!” she said emphatically. “I let you finish; I’d appreciate the same courtesy.”
The host smiled and held up his hands. “One at a time,” he said. “Ms. Starling first and then Ms. Davids can respond.”
“Our firm is taking the case pro bono, ” Kelly said. “Every dollar recovered goes to the client. In addition-”
“And I suppose you aren’t in it for the publicity, either,” Davids sarcastically interjected. “Which is why you’ve sprinted from one morning show to the next all day long.”
“You’re not very good at letting people finish,” Kelly countered. She knew this tit-for-tat made them both look stupid; she needed to get back to her talking points.
“She’s right,” the host said, grinning at the fireworks.
“Are you honestly saying you didn’t know that Peninsula Arms was a rogue dealer?” Kelly asked. “You never watched the videotapes of New York City undercover agents conducting straw purchases at Peninsula Arms? You didn’t know about the 251 guns used in crimes traced to Peninsula Arms in 2006? The media was all over this stuff-how could you not know?”
Davids leaned forward and stared back at Kelly. “You want to hear what I know? I know you didn’t sue the estate of the man who actually shot your client’s wife. I know you didn’t sue the gun store that you say illegally sold the gun. Instead, you sue my company, and we didn’t even know about the sale. And then, as soon as the suit is filed, you make the rounds of every talk show in America. That’s what I know.”
Their host started to wrap up the segment but Kelly cut him off.
“May I respond?” Kelly asked.
“We’ve only got fifteen seconds,” the host said. “I’ll give you the last word.”
Fifteen seconds? The competitive instincts kicked in. Kelly was tired of being pushed around.
“I told you in the greenroom it was nothing personal,” Kelly said to Davids, her teeth gritted. “I lied. It is personal. Your cavalier attitude cost Rachel Crawford her life. I take that very personally.”
Davids scoffed and started to respond.
“I’m sorry,” the host insisted, talking over Melissa Davids. “We really are out of time.” He read a few sentences on the teleprompter as the producer counted down to the next break.
As soon as the red light flashed off, Davids stood and took off her lapel mike. She ignored Kelly, thanked the Fox News host, and headed to the greenroom.
Kelly tried to be gracious, mustering a fake smile as she also thanked the host and then moved off the set. She stood behind the cameras for a few minutes, watching the start of the next segment. Congressman Parker, a regular guest on the show, pontificated about the purpose of the Protection of Lawful Commerce in Arms Act. It was, according to the congressman, legislation specifically designed to stop this sort of unmerited lawsuit.
“Let me read what the legislation says about these kinds of civil actions,” the congressman said. “They are an abuse of the legal system, they erode the public confidence in our nation’s laws, they threaten the diminution of a basic constitutional right and civil liberty, and they constitute an unreasonable burden on interstate and foreign commerce.”
Kelly had heard enough. She left the set and returned to the greenroom to pick up her folder. Fortunately for her, or maybe fortunately for her adversary, Melissa Davids was already gone.
17
On her way back to the Hilton, Kelly checked her BlackBerry. Lots of enthusiastic e-mails awaited her-friends and family gushing about seeing her on television, other attorneys at B amp;W telling her she did a good job. She checked her missed phone calls-thirteen in just the last few hours-and immediately dialed the one number she cared about most.
“My friends said you were great on the morning shows,” Blake Crawford told her. “I didn’t have the heart to watch them myself.”
“Did any of your friends catch Fox and Friends?”
“A couple. They said Melissa Davids was a jerk.”
Kelly was relieved to hear that assessment, even if it was from a totally biased perspective.
“I think it’s safe to say she’s not going to roll over on this one.”
“You told me that in your office.”
“It’s a little different when you meet her in the flesh. You know those folks who run around with the bumper stickers saying, ‘You can have my gun when you pry it out of my cold, dead hands’?”
“Yeah.”
“I think Davids probably views them as sellouts.”
This brought a small courtesy chuckle from Blake. In her limited contact with the man, Kelly sensed that it had probably been a long time since he had truly laughed. And who could blame him?
“My friends say you were not exactly a pushover, either,” Blake said.
It was the one comment Kelly needed to hear. She felt like she had been played on the Fox interview and caught off guard. But the client felt good about it. Funny thing with clients, they didn’t always care how smooth or eloquent you were; they just wanted to know you were fighting for them.
“Thanks,” Kelly said. “I think we’re off to a good start.”
It took two discreet calls from conservative pro-gun senators, both friends of Robert Sherwood and major beneficiaries of Sherwood’s political donations, before Melissa Davids would agree to the meeting. Ultimately, she acquiesced, provided that they could squeeze it in first thing in the afternoon, before her return flight to Atlanta. Sherwood had a driver pick Davids up at the Fox News studio and drive her to his waterfront estate in Greenwich, Connecticut. Privacy was of utmost importance.
Sherwood met her at the door himself and was struck by how much smaller she looked in person than she did on television. When they shook hands, her grip had the tensile strength of iron; when she spoke, she talked in clipped sentences with a military staccato and no trace of a Southern accent. She looked at Sherwood with the same kind of suspicious intensity one prizefighter uses to intimidate the other just before the bout.