Part 2
Our side in the case was simple. One of the owners had sold the land in Southeastern Massachusetts without authorization. Furthermore, it was sold below market value, and we were suing to receive our share of the “true” value of the land. It appeared that the other side had sold the land to themselves through a dummy buyer, who then “flipped” the land at twice the price.
As the trial progressed, it became clear that the land had been fraudulently flipped, but it was hard to prove. The land was buried in a series of trusts, which obscured who the owners were. Our lawyer did an excellent job uncovering legal improprieties around the land title transfer. Aggressive but fair, Ed drove his points home. He wouldn’t let evasive witnesses escape their responsibilities.
Around day three, I was called to testify. I felt ignorant since I didn’t know much of the land's history. Having testified many times as a psychologist, I usually felt relatively comfortable, but this time was different due to my ignorance. In retrospect, I think I positively impacted the jury since I was credible in my naiveté.
There were three turning points in the trial. At one point, the judge asked the other side why they hadn’t paid my brother and me the money from the land sale. The attorney said his clients didn’t know where we were, which was false. With some insight, the judge pointed out that we were sitting ten feet from the defendants, and he couldn’t understand why they didn’t pay us right now. The defendants were silent.
Turning point two was the testimony of the land assessor, our witness. His testimony was vital since we hoped he would convince the jury that the land was worth much more than the defendants claimed. The assessor, a man with a solid frame, had a lined, open face. He looked like a classic New Englander who might have been a subject in an Andrew Wyeth painting. Straightforward and to the point, our witness was a match for the clever defense attorney. He never got rattled or seemed defensive and knew his area.
Throughout the trial, the judge urged both sides to settle the case. The defendants made us an offer initially, but it was ridiculously low. The judge made an amazing statement before the case was to go to the jury. He said to the defendants,
“I believe that by the nature of the questions the jury has asked, they will favor the DiCiccos. I urge you to settle.”
This statement caught the defendants' attention, and they began to negotiate seriously. Part of me wanted to let the trial go to the jury, but realistically, I didn’t think I could afford an appeal. Ironically, the defendant was a multi-millionaire, and he could have dragged the process on for years if he wanted.
The case was settled. We received more money than had we accepted the original sale price but less than we would have received had the defendants been less greedy. My attorney’s fee was considerable, but it was worth every penny. I realized how important it was to have a good lawyer. He kept me apprised of the case's progress at every step and was responsible and competent.
The settlement was a victory for us, but there were unanswered questions. My cousin had tried to dodge a subpoena to testify in the trial for reasons I will never understand. The judge was not happy and was going to cite him for contempt. He hired a lawyer and expected me to pay his considerable legal fees. I refused, and he hadn’t spoken to me since then. (later he did)
The defendant’s comment that it was between him and my cousin perplexes me today. I do believe that many things went on that I know nothing about. My father and the defendant's father had ended their relationship years ago. My cousin and my father had had an ambivalent relationship for many years before the death of the latter. My cousin was no longer speaking to me, and my relationship with the defendant was forever severed. My cousin and the defendant had once been friends. They no longer talked. Years of the property being shifted from trust to trust within a context of fighting between and within families made a clear understanding of what had happened difficult to attain.
I wished my father had given me more knowledge about the land, but that was water under the dam. Despite all that, I had done the right thing by going to court. The experience had been positive. The system had worked, and I felt good that my family hadn’t rolled over as the defendants seemed to have assumed we would.
When I left the courthouse, it was raining. We tried walking to South Station, but the weather quickly deteriorated. I hailed a cab, and before entering it, I looked back one last time at the Federal courthouse, which was now obscured by the mist and rain driven by strong winds off the Charles River.
The End