My former law firm has officially lifted its leg and pissed all over me. I found out that my appearance is in a federal case that one of my partners – the one who has barricaded herself in her house and refuses to answer emails or telephone calls, even from the bar association of which she is currently president – had been handling. I use the word “handling” loosely, since apparently the reason why her new partnership didn’t work out is that she fucked up everything she touched from day one and has likely created all sorts of potential liabilities for the firm. Which no longer bears her name. Sigh. Sorry, I got caught in a little Schadenfreude there.
The problem is, no one knows where this file is and the former partner’s new firm has taken no steps to notify the client about what is going on. So I want off this train, pronto. Shit, it’s federal court, people. Someone actually reads the pleadings.
I called the Chapter 7 trustee for Old Law Firm. He tells me there are some files at the old office, and that he is abandoning them. Okaaaaay. I go to old office space. The landlord tells me it is going to shred the files there so it can re-lease the space. There are shelves full of files, many of them old Will files marked “Do Not Destroy.” What the fuck is going on here? Unfortunately (fortunately!) I departed Old Law Firm before it gave its last death rattle, though, so I’m not sure I even have authority to look at these things.
Many calls to ethics hotlines later, and I still don’t have an answer. Meanwhile, Former Partners from Old Law Firm seem to be diddling themselves or each other. The one upside: one of the morons left his framed admissions certificate at Old Law Firm. I comfort myself to sleep at night with visions of that thing hitting the shredder. It makes a lovely sound.