The Wake-Up Call
He collapsed right in the middle of a packed courtroom. He was one of this country's most distinguished trial lawyers.
He was also a man who was as well known for the three-thousand-dollar Italian suits which draped his well-fed frame as for his remarkable string of legal victories. I simply stood there, paralyzed by the shock of what I had just witnessed.
The great Julian Mantle had been reduced to a victim and was now squirming on the ground like a helpless infant, shaking and shivering and sweating like a maniac.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion from that point on.
"My God, Julian's in trouble!" his paralegal screamed, emotionally offering us a blinding glimpse of the obvious.
The judge looked panic-stricken and quickly muttered something into the private phone she had had installed in the event of an emergency.
As for me, I could only stand there, dazed and confused. Please don't die, you old fool. Its too early for you to check out. You don't deserve to die like this.
The bailiff, who earlier had looked as if he had been embalmed in his standing position, leapt into action and started to perform CPR on the fallen legal hero.
The paralegal was at his side, her long blond curls dangling over Julian's ruby-red face, offering him soft words of comfort, words which he obviously could not hear.
