And then there was Dorden, my very own Darth Vader. Dorden was sixteen, a fully grown version of a malevolent juvenile delinquent, a young boy who had fought life with a focused rage, sent away to Vernon Prep for Boys in the expectation that it would bring him to rein. And the worst of it, Dorden was in grade 7, with me! I had skipped two grades and Dorden had been held back three grades. What could possibly go wrong?!

The long trial comes to the inevitable climax:”So you play by the sword, you die by the sword Mr. Gallagher and now it is my turn.” Beau finally had Gallagher pinned and he was not about to let him off the mat. All the tensions of the trial were released. The lack of respect, the punitive arguments, the personal insults, Beau had taken note of it all. “This jury is poisoned. You never took control of the publisher and you sure as hell never took control of his little Rottweiler, Peter Franklyn. You own this Gallagher.”

Beau didn’t have much time for Gallagher and he suspected Gallagher held him in the same regard. The forced civility between lawyers often breaks down in long criminal trials. When he thought it served his clients purposes Beau had often intentionally aggravated prosecutors; any energy he could divert his way was energy diverted from the case. He even remembered a fist fight in the barristers changing room between two lawyers, during a long drug trial in Victoria. Things could get heated. 

“Growing old is not for the faint of heart Tony.” I’ll never forget the first time I heard my father saying it though. Turns out he was a wise old owl after all. Sure got my attention. What did I know, I was forty-four years old? Wet behind the ears! It felt like some old mariners warning about rough weather ahead. And what’s worse it appeared, if I was hearing my father correctly, no course correction was available. No matter what, this was going to happen.