THE DEVIL'S HANDSHAKE

Let me tell you about the first time time I received the devil's handshake.  I was in a lawyer's office--this was several years before I even considered divorce--and my X and I were going over our wills. 

The lawyer who, as I learned later on was very gender biased, called into question my prenuptial.  Clearly, from his remarks, he thought the document was far too generous towards me.  There were many reasons why it was this way, and when he challenged it, I told him what those reasons were in no uncertain terms.  On the way out of his office, after our business was over, he took pains to shake my hand.

His handshake is a special handshake that you get when a lawyer has acted like a complete jerk, but wants to convey a message of "well played, my friend." or "that was a good fighting bout" or something of that kind. Since then, I've received the devil's handshake on a few other occasions as well. 

A few years ago, I had an attorney start a collections action against me in court. I responded with a suit for malpractice and we continued on through the entire process and onto trial.  The trial lasted two days and was extremely difficult for me, although  I did get the opposing attorney to conceed a few points. Naturally, it was the first time I'd ever conducted a trial and so how well was I going to do really?  My blood pressure skyrocketed and half the time I was so nervous and afraid, I wasn't even sure what page I was on! 

What this attorney did was despicable.  Essentially, after he had withdrawn from my case, he still ratcheted up thousands and thousands of dollars in unauthorized attorney's fees which he was now demanding I pay.  I fought back as well as I could, and once it was all over, as we walked out of the court room, he reached out and shook my hand, and then his entire team of attorneys followed suit and shook my hand as well. 

Those were a whole bunch of devil's handshakes one after another. 

The point I am making is, as laypersons, we take the whole of family court seriously.  When the opposing attorney makes false accusations, or spins the story of a marriage in a way that is totally false, most of us become terribly indignant.  I have heard friends of mine say, how could this bad attorney allow my ex husband to lie, steal money, or obtain custody of my children even though it is clear the children and everyone will be harmed as a result. 

Most women, in particular, take it all to heart and literally believe that the opposing attorney is evil, or that the opposing attorney really likes the ex husband.  And perhaps they are right sometimes.  But my general experience is that most attorneys view a lawsuit as a more evolved kind of game, like chess for instance.  They don't necessarily like or dislike their client.  As they see it, the courtroom is simply a playing field with the judge as chief umpire. 

It's all about what kinds of plays can win you the game, and for many attorneys it is just that--a game.  It's like two gladiators who fight it out in the arena, and then wait for Caesar to seal their fate with a thumbs up or a thumbs down.  They do their best for the person they are representing, not because they care about that person or his cause, although it's nice to believe in what you are advocating, though not required, but simply because that is the job they are paid to do and trained to do. 

Right or wrong is not the question.  The question is what can they do to win.  And at their fingertips they have an entire arsenal of strategies--lunging, feinting, dipping, diving, jumping, ducking, giving a limb up for the game, and then rising up to win.  It's not about the people involved, about the family, or the children who are hurt and harmed by the outcome of a lawsuit; it is about the buzz you get when you fight it out in and out of the courtroom.  It's about drinking the blood of your enemies when the lawsuit is over and you win. 

If there is anything most litigants fail to understand then, it is this.  Your lawyer does not hate the opposing attorney.  Your lawyer is not personally involved with the relationships.  You attorney is on the pursuit of a win, regardless of anyone's feelings, and regardless of the impact that it has on anyone or anything.  And if they lose, so what?  The game starts again the next day with another client. 

So, if you play their game in any way, by inserting yourself into the process, or standing up to them and refusing to go along with their tactics, they start thinking you are part of the game as well.  So at the end of their interaction with you, they will offer you, what they offer one another at the end of each bloodbath--oops, I mean game a.k.a. lawsuit, i.e. the devil's handshake.  And God forbid you refuse it. 

I did refuse one, at one point.  I was at an attorney's office where the attorney was rude and insulting, and then, as I was leaving, he offered to take my hand, and I simply refused.  I could see in his face that by doing so I had confirmed every bad thought he had about me.  And this is the thing, he was an evil son of a gun (I meant to say worse) but he had given me crucial information on how to succeed in my case. 

What he gave me was a lawyer's form of tough love, in a sense, sort of like he was saying, if you are going to get into our game, expect a few bloody noses, and let me give you a few while you are sitting here, and, by the way, try this excellent strategy the next time you are in the ring, so you can avoid a few more of them. 

I suppose he thought he was doing me a favor.  And in another lifetime, I'd understand the tough love thing.  But when it gets down to it, I do not approve.  Lawyers need to stop thinking of this as a game, in my opinion.  They need to feel the pain, not just of the battle, but the pain of the people whose lives are twisted apart by these lawsuits.  These people are not just pieces in a chess game; they are living, breathing human beings, whose lives are crippled, twisted, and distorted by the brokenness of family court. 

Overall, when I refused to shake this guy's hand, I was saying, that's enough.  Take your silly handshake and stick it where the sun never shines. We could all do with a little less of the devil and his hand shakes, and look instead for ways in which we can protect the most vulnerable in family court, most particularly, the children.