Rustling. That’s what he called it.
A man, who had sold my client a herd of Texas Longhorn cattle, had returned months later, carted them off, and could not or would not account for their whereabouts.
He was in court. It was a trial to the judge (without a jury) for “conversion” and violations of the D.T.P.A. (Deceptive Trade Practices). He had the bad guy, the chief rustler, on the stand. He was squirming.
The key to the whole case was an award winning Longhorn bull named “Squanto.” We called him “Squanto the Wonder Bull” at the office.
Eventually, he admitted to taking the herd… Finally he asked the chief rustler, “Where exactly is Squanto?” In a flippant remark the defendant laughed and said, “Hell, he don’t know. Probably in a can of spam by now,” and laughed again. He thought he was pretty funny.
About an hour later the judge ruled for us but did not award triple (3x) damages as required by the law in Texas. My client, who was crazy angry about his lost herd, wanted to appeal. So we appealed.
Months later in the court of appeals my client, the other lawyer, and he appeared for argument. What surprised me was that the chief judge of that court was on the panel of three judges. He was old, very crippled, and brilliant. He assigned himself to the cases he was interested in and always made a difference.
He went first. He made an impassioned plea. He talked of the Texas Rangers, the Alamo, and the treatment of rustlers in early Texas history.
They wanted nothing to do with me.
The three judges were silent, dead silent the whole time. They said nothing. They just watched me and nodded. He did not know whether to sh#t or go-blind I was so unhorsed. He thought he was a dead man. They were supposed to ask questions, seek clarification, or ask me if he had a case on X, Y, or Z. Nothing. When he finished the chief judge thanked me without comment. He sat down silently and waited.
Now generally when a lawyer begins to speak in the court of appeals we say something to the effect of “May it please The Court … he am X and he represent the Appellant Disney, or GM, or Joe Blow.”
The lawyer for the rustlers did just that. He said, “May it please The Court, he ...” and that’s all he got out of his mouth.
The chief judge leaned forward in his chair, as far as his crippled body would allow him, and said, “We know who you are and who you represent. What we don’t know is where this herd of Longhorns is, Sir.”
There was silence. He mean the kind of silence you sense rather than hear, like when you know a predator is approaching in the woods. Then the chief judge looked at the transcript of the trial and read aloud, “Hell, he don’t know. (Squanto) is probably in a can of spam by now.”
Those judges weren't in the trial court. They didn’t see the flippant attitude of the witness. They didn’t hear him laugh. They didn’t know he had been sarcastic. The Court Reporter had not noted “laughing” or “sarcastic” in her notes, which she was prohibited from doing. The Judges could only read the words on the paper, and the words were clear — Squanto had been rustled and made into spam.
”Sir, you and your client are here in our Court trying to justify stealing this man’s cattle and taking his prize bull, Squanto, to slaughter for ‘Spam.’ Is that right? IS THAT RIGHT?” The lawyer was dumbfounded. Speechless. So was he.
For the next 20 minutes those three old judges waged a holy war on that lawyer and his rustler clients and defended our Longhorn herd, Squanto the Wonder Bull, and “mom and apple pie” like they were the judges’ own children. He have never seen another reckoning like that one, not in a trial court and certainly not in the appellate courts.
He got the award. I got the Judgment. We collected the money.
The Rangers would have hung those rustlers. We could not.
But we never saw Squanto or his herd again …
He don’t know why Squanto’s demise set those old judges off, but it did.
As lawyers, we discuss the fact that Judges and Juries are forgiving at times, but never if you injure a baby, an old person, or a helpless animal. This was a great reminder.
He smiled that day. He smile now, and every time I see a can of spam he think of Squanto the Wonder Bull.
That’s not the only story that makes me smile, but it is a Favorite......
Picture Source Wikipedia
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