By request from @ bookgirl33, because my previous version got eaten with my SamuraiKnitter account, thanks Twitter:

The last time I hired a lawyer and sued someone. #StoryTime

It was in May of 1998 - only the horrible dates stick with me, I can't remember my own damn anniversary - that I was riding my motorcycle, minding my own damn business, when some asshole reaching behind her seat for a donut pulled out in front of me.

In the left turn lane across the street, was a police car.

Inside the police car was a Hawaiian cop. (They're a different breed.)

Said cop was the great-nephew several times removed of the beloved Senator.

He witnessed the whole thing.

I was in the middle of my lane. Hit the brakes as hard as I could, had a choice of swerving into heavy traffic or hitting the car. So I hit the car. Hung on to the brake until the impact, which traveled. I essentially punched a car at 15mph.

Compression fractures in all my fingers, meta-carpals. Tore the scapho-lunate ligament in my wrist so the carpals are permanently dislocated. Snapped off the head of the radius (thumb side arm bone) and shattered the ulna like a tent stake hammered too often.

If I had it all to do over again, I'd have gotten up off the ground and head-butted the chick who caused the accident, with my helmet still on.

However, there were cops on scene.

And so ambulances and orthopedic surgery and - oh, when I called the hub to come get me at the hospital he thought I was kidding, I'd been riding since I was eleven, and Liberty Mutual, Asshole Driver's insurance company bugging me to pay everything off.

Like, I literally can't lift my right arm yet, and Liberty Mutual's bugging the shit out of me to pay me off and have it done.

As always, I smelled a rat.* I told them maybe they could pay me for the motorcycle.

*That's another story.

So they send me a check for five grand (Kawasaki Vulcan; totaled), and a contract.

Contract says I absolve them of any responsibility in any way whatsoever including physical and emotional.

Planning to not ever sign it, I send a copy to an old roommate in law school* who immediately replies "DO NOT SIGN THAT."

So I tell Liberty Mutual to fuck off and they pretend it was all a misunderstanding and send a contract for the bike only.

*We may see him soon.

...this is going to be long. I'm blaming the muscle relaxant.

Anyway, I go to the first place anyone should go to find a lawyer after a motorcycle accident - to the motorcycle mechanics shop right next door to a friend's hot rod shop. In business since forever.

They took one look at my hand sticking out of my cast (I do not joke about punching a car; my knuckles were almost black. I was telling people I'd been in a massive bar fight and THEY BELIEVE ME) and sent me to who turned out to be a very sweet fang-dripping shark.

This is Septemberish of '98. We file a personal injury lawsuit against Liberty Mutual, Asshole Driver, and Asshole Driver's Moronic Asshole Daughter.

Liberty Mutual offers me twenty thousand dollars.

I still couldn't move my fingers. I told them no.

They sent me to one of Liberty Mutual's doctors to check me over.

Sent back a report that my shoulders were fine.

I told them yes, they're welcome, it's because I rode dirt bikes since I was 11 and new how to crash.

This went back and forth for about a year.

Hold on, we're having an intermission.

Right. So, the first action they take is to drag me in for a deposition. Like testifying in court, but without a judge and the lawyer can ask whatever dumbass fishing questions they want.

But imagine, if you will. Asshole Driver has been telling the LM lawyer that I was a big scary tough rude biker chick, and I shopw up weighing about 125 pounds at five nine, with the model figure, in a nice suit.

Asshole Driver didn't even recognize me, stereotyping bitch. LM lawyer tried to shift strategies on the fly. My lawyer G enjoyed it all immensely. If I looked like that I was clueless, right?

HER: How long have you ridden a motorcycle?
ME: Seventeen years.

HER, blankly: What?
ME: I was eleven. First dirt bike. Got it for my birthday. It's how I knew how to wreck and am not having this conversation from a wheel chair.
G -smiling-

Most of it was like that. G said he had t he most fun. She'd ask a random question, he'd tell her it was irrelevant, and then tell me to answer it anyway like he was doing a big favor.
HER: Where did you meet your husband?
ME: His cousin's bat mitzvah.
G:

(He told me later while laughing his head off, that it was the best unexpected answer he'd ever heard in a deposition. She'd been wanting to hear "met in a bar three weeks ago" to dig into my character reference and got a BAT MITZVAH instead. It couldn't get more wholesome.)

LAWYER: And you're still under treatment now?
ME: Yes.
LAWYER: And that is?
ME -pulls a backpack full of pills out from under the table and pourse them across the table-
G, later: THAT WAS AWESOME!

After it was over, the court reporter gave me a covert thumbs up.

And then I suspect went and reported Asshole Driver to the IRS. I'd been waiting until after the lawsuit was settled but they were already up her ass with a flashlight by then.

Liberty Mutual, realizing they were fucked, decided to do what all insurance companies do.

Stall.

And there it sat for two years which was dumb, because two years later I was still racked up from the accident.

Except this time there was a judge involved.

And we shall have an intermission for the night because this story takes a while for the full appreciation as the ending unfolds.

Until then, admire Mr Stan's eyelashes. And jaw line. And- well, you know.

Right then, back to our legal drama.

During the almost four years the lawsuit took, my mother was diagnosed with, and died from, breast cancer. When the judge got involved, about a month later I said sorry, we're putting everything on hold, Mom's sick, I'll be back when I'm back.

LM's dumbass lawyer, apparently, thought this was my way of paying her back for dragging this out for four years (ultimately) and was pretty much waiting for the instant I was back on the island to demand a second deposition.

I was, I think understandably, pissed off as all hell, and showed up at the deposition ready to eat her face.

She's all smug, positive she's caught me in a lie finally.

I was polite for the first deposition. I was not the second time, and spent the first half hour answering 'yes' or 'no' only unless G told me to elaborate on the answer.

Finally lawyer, smug as fuck, says something to the effect of 'what's your problem today?' and I said "My mother died worrying about this lawsuit and I consider it entirely your fault."

Lawyer, still smug, is 'let's talk about that'. Literally her words, I remember.

So she starts on "what did your mother have?" and runs down a whole list and gets less and less smug when she realizes I was telling the truth.

Then I tossed the death certificate across the table at her.

Same unusual last name. Dated end of February.

It was, IIRC, the beginning of April then.

Lawyer goes:
[Scrat from Ice Age backed against a tree and terrified gif]

One beat to regroup, and then she's "Let's talk about something else."

And I said "Ha, yeah, you bet," in my best snot-nosed teenage voice.

G is "quick meeting," and pulls me out into the hall.

I didn't know what I was expecting.

G is "Look, I know you're pissed off and the death certificate was beautiful, but you've gotta quit being such a smartass."

I was like, oh. Right. I can do that.

We go back in, and LM's lawyer is smug thinking I got spanked in the hallway and starts in with rando questions.

I thought this was because she was clueless but G told me later, it was to try and trip me up. Because I was telling the truth, it didn't work.

I'm back to yes and no, sarcastically delivered.

Rule with second depositions is, you can only ask questions about what's happened since the first one.

LM's lawyer is all over the place, desperately looking for a crack.

G is "you can't ask that, but go ahead, answer."

Eventually she realizes she's getting nowhere, and in a desperate attempt to sound like she's in control, she asks me, what do I want.

Just that, no other clarification.

I said I wanted Asshole Driver's driver's license.

She gets smug again and tells G to explain.

Out into the hall again. G is "look, we've discussed this, you know legally-"

And I pointed out, she didn't clarify at all. (She couldn't ask questions for shit.) All she said was what do I want.

Emotionally? I wanted the license.

G starts laughing.

We go back in, and she's smug as fuck, and we sit down, and G waits a bit for drama 'cause he couldn't help himself, and finally says "She wants the driver's license."

LM's lawyer goes apeshit. We can't do that, no law, etc.

Things wrapped up pretty fast after that.

And that afternoon?

Was the Husbeast's deposition.

But first another intermission.

WAIT! I screwed up the time line. My bad. A quick flashback scene during intermission.

The reason I have #CRPS is because Tripler Army Hospital botched the surgery putting my radius back together again.

Needless to say, they didn't want to release my medical records.

G sends over a request.

Nothing.

I'm like hell, I'm over there three days a week, give me a letter, I'll drop it off in the records office.

He gives me another request.

Nothing.

We're both like, okay, this IS a lawsuit.

G gets a subpoena.

I hand deliver it and get signatures at the records office.

Nothing.

G's completely stumped. Talking over ways to do this without my records.

I'm like "I've got an idea. Give me another subpoena."

By now he knew me, knew better than to ask, and just handed it over.

I put on beat up $3 flip-flops, shredded cutoffs, a fluorescent pink tank top, and an Aloha shirt covered in erupting volcanoes and giant pink orchids - the most tacky one I could find at the flea market.

Then I hand delivered the subpoena to the JAG office.

The records were at G's within the week.

Now back to intermission. (Waiting for meds to kick in, my hands hurt.)

The military is so intent on uniforms and insignia, you can insult them without a single damn word. Or otherwise play them.

That afternoon, hub comes in, full uniform including the combat boots that put him up around six and a half feet tall, all squared away, clean cut and honest looking. (HAHA.) We go back to LM's lawyer's to do HIS deposition.

(I know that's Army and he was Navy, roll with it.)

Hub was beyond done watching me get kicked around, AND was used to being audited by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and doing yoga with SEALs.

He was vastly unimpressed by the entire thing.

The entire depo, he's "Yes. No. Yes." No ma'am. G pulls him out into the hall and tells him he can loosen up. Hub laughs and says no. G is like "oh, right, there's two of you." and left him to it.

The only thing that wasn't yes or no, the fucking dumbass LM lawyer, trying to imply that I was messed up over my mom, not my hand, asked "Was she happier after her mother died?" (I told you she sucked at asking questions.)

Hub sloooowly sits up straight in his chair, and LM's lawyer scoots away from him back toward the wall, and he says in his voice of doom "I think you want to rephrase that question."

She started babbling.

She desperately looks at G to help bail her out.

G is
[chameleon from Tangled sticking his tongue out]

After that, we walked back to G's office, and G laughed the entire way.

LM got pretty desperate to settle after that, and after some back and forth, we settled on 90% of the value of the insurance policy. No way I'd get 100%, and this way LM's lawyer would be in the shit because legal costs were WAY over the other 10%.

We all agree to meet at the courthouse, with the judge, to make it official. We get there, I'm sitting in the court room, and both lawyers go into the judge's chambers, and G comes back out, spitting mad.

They went to do the deal, and LM was "twenty grand".

Which is, if you recall, what she'd offered four fucking years ago.

G and LM's lawyer were both of Japanese heritage. She did her twenty grand offer, and G went off. Told her she had no honor, her ancestors were shamed, if she wanted to say hello it would be in writing. And he was telling every other lawyer in the state she couldn't be trusted.

LM's lawyer then cried.

In front of the judge.

Judge comes out, clearly irritated, and wants to talk to me. Has to formally ask me if I'll settle for twenty grand.

RULE ONE. ALWAYS BE POLITE TO THE JUDGE.

I as-tactfully-as-possible told her there was no fucking way.

G was "I didn't know you could do tact."

So I went home.

And got pneumonia*.

A giant wad of papers came from LM, I tossed 'em on my desk and went to bed.

*That's another story.

About two weeks later, G calls me and is "Hey, I've got the check here."

And I was "What check?"

And he said it was for the original settlement agreement, Liberty Mutual sent it over.

I explained I hadn't even filled out the paperwork yet.

G's laughing his ass off, and says "Wow, they must be DESPERATE to get rid of us."

I may have told LM's lawyer the only reason I wasn't dragging her into court for the fun of it was my respect for G.

I went down the next week and we filled out the paperwork together and I got to the gag order and was "fuck the gag order" and he said line through it and initial it and see what happens, and they never said a word, so I am here legally telling this story.

And this is why I don't hire lawyers. It makes me a vindictive bitch.

But it looks like I'mma do it again.

The end. Usually I do a photo of an adorable floof at the end of one of these stories, so...