Taking On Goliath (by Jim Dotson w/ Rick Killian)

Chapter One

May 11, 2006

Trial: Day One

I had a very strange feeling as I walked the three blocks from where I had found free parking toward the Federal Courthouse in downtown Raleigh. Just a few years ago, I would have thought nothing to have the car valeted, slipping the carhop an extra ten to see it was better cared for. Now I was just glad to have found free parking so close. Things had certainly changed.

Upon arrival at the marble steps of the courthouse, I paced back and forth along the sidewalk waiting for my attorneys. I must have stuck out as everyone around me bee-lined for work. I folded my arms against the morning’s fading chill and nervously fingered the darning thread camouflaging a moth hole in the forearm of my Armani suit. I looked at my watch again—I was twenty minutes early. I settled back into my pacing.

As I waited for my attorneys, I was struck by an eerie sense of déjà vu. My mind flashed back to October 17, 2003, when I paced like this in front of a courthouse in Saratov, Russia with my wife, Ann. We were waiting for the judge’s decision on our adoption of a thirteen-month-old orphan named Aselya. Too restless to sit still, we had wandered to the park near the courthouse. Tiny snow flurries started falling against a sunny backdrop. Ann and I strolled arm-in-arm, praying and hoping—giddy with excitement and dreading further delay before we could take our sick daughter home. We felt as if the entire world lay before us. I had a great career with the world’s largest pharmaceutical company, Pfizer, Incorporated. I enjoyed great benefits and a hefty salary. We were on the verge of completing a family dream. For the last two years we’d wanted to adopt a daughter. We trusted that in just a matter of days we would be returning to the United States with Aselya. Our family would be complete. It was a great time of hope and promise.

Within less than two weeks all of that changed.

The arrival of Bill Barrett and Josh Krasner, the top members of my legal team, jarred me from my reverie. Shaking hands, we all greeted one another, brimming with anticipation for what would begin in just a matter of minutes—something we had fought delay after delay to make happen.

We checked through security just inside the front door, and an officer gave us directions to the elevators, instructing us to go up to the third floor, courtroom number four, where Judge Earl Britt presided. Our steps echoed on the marble of the courthouse’s vast lobby. None of us spoke above a whisper as we made our way to the elevators.

The courtroom, with its dark wood paneling and red carpet, was a decisive place—a room for argument, debate, and ultimately judgment. We moved by the spectators’ seats, passed through the gate separating participants from observers, and arranged our things on the table to the right of the judge’s bench—the place designated for the plaintiffs in civil cases. To our right the jury box sat empty. I looked at the vacant chairs trying to remember each of the twelve faces selected earlier in the week to decide my case.

My gaze turned to the witness stand with its solitary black leather chair and wooden table—bare except for a microphone. This is where I would spend most of the next two or three days as the first witness against my former employer.

Bill Barrett had informed me that when not testifying, I would sit in the chair closest to the jury. The jurors’ eyes would be on me constantly. He suggested that I avoid direct eye contact with any of them, and keep my emotions and expressions in check. For a man who generally wears his heart on his sleeve, this would not be easy.

The empty room was soon transformed with a bustle of activity. Pfizer’s lead attorney Felix Price and his team arrived and set themselves up at the defendant’s table to our left. The court clerk stood to quiet the room and then announced, “All rise.” Judge W. Earl Britt entered and took his seat. According to Bill, the man presiding over my destiny was a recently retired federal judge—a Jimmy Carter nominee, confirmed in 1980—with a no-nonsense reputation. He was working part time to help ease this district’s backlog of cases. Federal judges serve life terms. This meant Earl Britt answered to no one but the law.

As he had during the previous days of jury selection, the judge got quickly to business, working through a number of questions about evidence and the proceeding for the next few days. Once done with that, he called for the jury and the court clerk empaneled them. The case of Jim Dotson vs. Pfizer, Incorporated, a civil suit for wrongful termination, was ready to begin.

“Members of the jury,” Judge Britt began, “now that you have been sworn, I want to give you some preliminary instructions.”

As Judge Britt began his directives for the jury, I thought back to what had brought us here. For fifteen years Pfizer’s best interests had been my own. The company was the focal point of my life. I assumed I’d retire as a Pfizer executive. Never could I have imagined I would be sitting on the other side of the aisle from Pfizer representatives opposing them in a court of law.

The tension in the air reminded me of another day—one forever branded into my memory.

© 2013 by Jim Dotson and Russell Media