Jack Mayhew was as hooked on the Riviera Maya as he originally had been hooked on Dallas City. After the 2016 election, though, he became ashamed and disgusted by the town he thought was mostly populated by good, moral, clear-headed followers of Christ, but who now seemed to worship a POTUS who won the Electoral College vote on social inequity, bigotry, xenophobia, racism, fear, hate, white nationalism, and fighting the all-inclusive, evil “them,”—the bastard child suckled at the teats of Tailgunner Joe McCarthy and his old mentor, Roy M. Cohn.
The self-imagined “good and godly” folks in town seemed little bothered by Trump’s belittling of POW and former Republican party standard bearer, John McCain, during his campaign; by his mocking of a disabled reporter; against his threats of violence or arrest versus Clinton; when bragging about grabbing women by their labia; by his lies. Did they really believe Donald Trump was now a born-again evangelical????? Did they really believe that everybody and everything in Washington DC was corrupt, except him? Ayup. Hook, line, and grifter.
(When The Washington Post fact–checking team first started cataloging Trump’s false or misleading claims, they recorded 492 suspect claims in the first 100 days of his presidency. On Nov. 2, 2020, the day before the election, Trump made 503 verifiable false or misleading claims as he barnstormed across the country in a desperate effort to win reelection. By the end of his term, Trump had accumulated 30,573 untruths during his four-year presidency — averaging about 21 erroneous claims a day.)
His “fans”, as the ex-reality game-show host, now president-elect, called his adulating base, were convinced that Trump was good and just--a fighting force determined to take America back to the good old (segregated and sexist) days of the 1950s.
The low-watt fan next door to the Mayhews opposite the Cumberlands—a semi-illiterate old bag of bones with the scowling jowls of a Basset hound–flew a banner that proclaimed, JESUS IS MY SAVIOR - TRUMP IS MY PRESIDENT, and proudly boasted that, “she never votes for nothin’ with the word ‘taxes’ in it.”
Many American flags were desecrated with Trump’s smirking silkscreened mug on them, or were flown with TRUMP 2020 and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! banners flying underneath. Some were retired completely, replaced by the Stars and Bars of the Confederacy, which might have made Honest Abe weep and cry out, “have you no sense of decency?” had he been making a speech at the Dallas City waterfront in 2017.
A general vibe of cuckooland was alive and well in and around Dallas City. One group of proud MAGA patriots even started their own brand of home-grown Jesus by converting the old B & B into a storefront church where, along with messages of their savior’s plea for love, acceptance, and compassion, lessons in firearm safety were offered.
2
Julia Mayhew was startled awake at 6:30 AM, not by a crash of waves against the seashore, but by the annoying jangle of metal being tossed. She squinted through a crack in the bedroom curtain, surprised, but not really, by the sections of rain gutters, tin cans, rusty bike frames, old stoves, and such that was collecting in the neighbors’ backyard.
Her and Jack sometimes half-wished Billy and Stacy were still back next door. Although the Cumberlands had similar extended cycles of busyness, business, and sleep as the former meth peeps, they were much much worse as neighbors. The twin toddlers cried and screamed ceaselessly, it seemed. Keith and Debbie cried and screamed a lot, too, during their woke periods, she texted Jack.
And watching little Eddie and Emily play in a patch of grass seemingly unsupervised worried them, especially being so close to the highway, especially after Debbie came out a few times, wondering where the hyper little shits went now.
She closed the drapes. “Wonder what the hell they’re up to now,” she muttered, annoyed that Keith had woken her up. She got a little more annoyed gazing over at her still deep-sleeping husband. “There’s a perk to deafness. YOU CAN SLEEP THROUGH ANYTHING YA LUCKY BASTARD!” she blasted as loud as she could muster, miffed, directly into his dead ear that was off the pillow. He slept on.
Jack got up a bit later. Trying to be quiet not to wake his wife who went back to sleep was difficult--how could he silence any noises if he couldn’t hear any noises to silence? He quickly learned that he could tell by his wife’s mood coming down the stairs for her if she was woken up naturally, or by traffic, or a barking dog, or a lawn mower or by an atom bomb--sorry, Baby, they all have the volume of church mice on Monday mornings to me.
This clear April morning, Jack took his coffee out back by the pool they had put in when Julia was still union and that, over the years, had become their private oasis in summer. They had just opened their piscina and although too cold for a dip, Jack found the silver shimmers and clear waters as calming as he did the Caribbean, where summers are eternal. Warm weather better get here soon, my February tan is fading, he thought, wheeling the four numbers on the padlock that were still stiff from winter’s rust.
Facing east to try to wring a little warmth from the yet impotent rays of spring sunshine, he watched the neighbor load up a trailer behind his pickup truck that could have easily joined the rest of the crap on the scrap heap. Hope he doesn’t wake up Ju, he thought, reaching into his memory bank the discordant clamor each piece must be making while being loaded.
The neighbor, sweating while Jack shivered, saw him and motioned him over. Shit, he hates spontaneous invites, especially his, but what the hell, Keith seemed calm and upbeat this morning. Jack grabbed his iPad from the glass table top and met him in the alley.
“What up?” he asked, handing Keith his electronic device.
He removed his gloves and finger-tapped: Im a new businenman now, Halling scrap metal over to FM. recycled junk is gold, man!
“That’s cool,” Jack replied with an urge to roll his eyes but knowing he better show interest. “Sounds like a nice little money-making venture. Great, dude. Good luck.” So that’s the reason for all the odious, eye-puke?
Hop so. Gotta run-- open at 8. Keith handed the iPad back to Jack and pulled a business card from his wallet. It read: I-HALL and gave his phone number and drop-off location. Scrap metal disposal at your service! “It’s a play on U-Hall, but instead of moving stuff into someone’s place, I’m moving the stuff outta someone’s place,” he bragged about his cleverness as he walked back towards the truck, with his back, of course, to his neighbor.
Jack noticed the typo but said nothing. This morning Keith was congenial, but hell, that could have turned fast over a simple misspelling. He dubbed his neighbor, Junkman, for the crap he was dealing, both in metallic and powder form, but not to his face, of course.
He returned to the deck and his strong black coffee and weak saffron sunshine and opened his email. Buried amongst the spam and free offers was a reply from Mitchell C. McCauley, of the workman’s compensation law firm of Davis, Davis & McCauley. A few months before, he had flashed on Betz’s stories of dangerous workplaces told so long ago, and decided it was his turn at whistleblowing. The message read:
Dear Mr. Mayhew:
Thank you for contacting our office regarding your request for legal assistance. The information provided by you, and by the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, has led our firm to believe you have a very viable case v. [Z and W***], per the OSHA Act of 1970, specifically Section. 5 (a) which states that each employer:
…shall furnish to each of his employees employment and a place of employment which are free from recognized hazards that are causing or are likely to cause death or serious physical harm to his employees;
…shall comply with occupational safety and health standards promulgated under this Act.
We at Davis, Davis & McCauley have concluded that the named employer intentionally and maliciously caused your permanent and irreversible hearing damage – and would like to present your case in court. We are confident you can seek full compensation for your injury-related losses.
Our firm, with due diligence, is prepared to file a lawsuit against your former employer in Adams County civil court. Should a verdict be decided in our favor, you may be entitled to lost wages, reimbursement for medical treatment, compensation for any permanent impairment, as well as any punitive damages that have occurred, which can be a sum of money many times the amount of actual damages you incurred, especially in the case of egregiously bad behavior on your employer’s part.
With that said, your financial recovery could be substantial. We at Davis, Davis & McCauley, will help you seek compensation for all of your outstanding and future medical bills, as well as your current and future loss of income. On the “non-financial” side, we are confident we can help you recover compensation for the pain and suffering, post-traumatic stress, emotional trauma, loss of consortium, loss of enjoyment of life, and other life-altering impacts of profound deafness.
Let us help you get what you deserve by making an appointment today.
Sincerely,
Mitchell C. McCauley, Attorney-at-Law
This was the kind of stuff Julia didn’t mind getting woken up for.
3
Litigation in the case of Mayhew v [Z and W***] began September 10, 2017, as all the preliminaries were attended to--the plaintiff’s attorney had filed a formal pleading (the initial papers explaining each side’s dispute) with the court, with a copy also served to the defendant describing what the defendant did (or failed to do) that caused harm to the plaintiff and the legal basis for holding the defendant responsible for that harm. Then there was the discovery phase. These were necessary steps in their civil lawsuit before the trial began.
Z was given 30 days to file his side of the dispute in his pleading, but rather than answer or reply, he requested that the plaintiff clarify the factual allegations and asked the court to dismiss the suit entirely. That request was denied.
After the pleading, came the next step in the legal process--the period of discovery, in which both parties gathered relevant information from each other or from third parties, researched the law, reviewed documents, and conducted witness interviews. This process helps clients and their lawyers assess the merits of claims and defenses and is necessary preparation for the make-or-break jury trial, with the Honorable Melinda A. Williams-Scott presiding.
In his brief, Mitch McCauley laid out his case: Plaintiff suing for irreparable hearing loss over the course of 19 years caused by repeated exposure to loud music that the defendant refused to remedy, despite receiving OSHA violations notifications; that the plaintiff was seeking financial compensation for causing the permanent disability, for all medical bills incurred during the hearing loss; for coverage of any lost income, for future earnings potential, and for punitive damages incurred.
The jury trial, like Jack’s process of getting SSI, moved through the stages fast and without delays or snafus. McCauley, out to prove without a shadow of doubt that Z’s behavior was the reason for Jack’s hearing loss, subpoenaed him, who was scheduled to testify the third and final day.
Dr. Hanson took the stand in the first session. His direct evidence included his patient’s audiograms over the years, his early complaints, not due to hearing loss, per se, but the incessant ringing in his ears on the drive home from the radio station, and the advent of his battle with Mienere’s disease. He told the jury about Jack’s attacks of vertigo and tinnitus early on, his worsening hearing loss, warning him that his hearing loss could become permanent if remedies were not taken, and finally breaking the emotional news that his loss was irreversible. He showed the crumpled note that Z had thrown away recommending remedial action that was never taken.
Julia’s idea to document, document, DOCUMENT! proved invaluable when she suggested her husband keep a “decibel diary” for every shift at work. His sound meter readings taken over time were recorded and given to Dr. Hanson helped him make his case.
“A-weighted decibels, or dBAs, are used when describing sound level recommendations for healthy listening,” he explained on the witness stand. “While the dB scale is based only on sound intensity, the dBA scale is based on intensity and on how the human ear responds. Because of this, dBA gives us a better idea of when sound can damage your hearing.”
“With the volume in the studio on fixed master control, the dBA consistently ranged in the upper 70s to the lower 100s,” he said, passing Jack’s spiral notebooks around the jury box for them to flip through and see for themselves. “The mean over five years and 1,432 readings was 91 dBA--even after I highly recommended that the music be turned down to safer levels in the 50s and 60s range that my patient, Mr. Mayhew later said, “was considered but rejected by management,” performing the air quotes center stage to the jury box audience.
“Repeated or prolonged exposure to noise louder than 85 dB can easily permanently damage hearing, the cause and effect effectively demonstrated here.” He showed how the decibel readings were in direct correlation with his patient’s plummeting scattergrams in an overlay.
“I object!”, Z’s counsel shouted at about 95 dBs. “This is circumstantial evidence to be sure.”
“Overruled,” Judge Willaims-Scott declared.
McCauley then pressed the audiologist about Jack’s particular type of hearing loss. “Loud noise--in this case, rock and roll music played incessantly and permanently set at high volume levels--can damage cells and membranes in the cochlea located in the inner ear,” he explained as he projected a slide of the workings of the miraculous human organ:
“The average person is born with about 16,000 hair cells within their cochlea. These are the cells that allow your brain to detect sounds,” he explained to the jury. “Unfortunately, up to 30% to 50% of hair cells can be damaged or destroyed before changes in your hearing can be measured by a hearing test. By the time you notice hearing loss, many hair cells have been destroyed and cannot be repaired, which has been confirmed in Mr. Mayhew’s case. Listening to loud noise for a long time can overwork hair cells in the ear, which can cause these cells to die. The hearing loss progresses as long as the exposure continues. These particular work-related instances, in my professional opinion, went on far too long to which he will never recover.”
He finished his testimony with the probable long-term effects from hearing loss in older individuals who’ve had normal hearing all their lives and how deafness can lead to a variety of other health conditions, such as an increased risk for dementia and depression, as well as very serious communication problems. “Mr. Mayhew’s condition is both physically and psychologically debilitating, and the negative impact on his and his wife’s lives are impacted much more than just not being able to hear,” he concluded.
The defense did not cross-examine.
Jack’s turn in the witness box came on the trial’s second day, the questions and comments aimed towards him typed out on an iPad. His emotional testimony detailed how difficult it was piloting a silent sea, how he and his wife were faring since that morning back in 2011 when he woke up deaf. How disheartening and humiliating incidences like the one at HOBBY LOBBY occur more often than not.
“If you knew you were losing your hearing, why didn’t you just change careers?” Z’s lawyer asked in feigning indignity before transcribing the question to print.
Jack’s reply was sharp and effective. “I liked my job. I simply asked him to turn down the volume on my shift, which I would think was a reasonable request, but to an unreasonable employer.”
“I object!” bellowed the defense attorney.
“Sustained. You may continue Mr. Mayhew.”
“Thank you, your honor.” He posed his question directly to Z’s lawyer: “Would you, sir, hire a male on the downside of middle age with severe hearing and communication problems to represent your law firm, when the unemployment in the area was averaging around 11% and you had a very large pool of qualified applicants to choose from?”
“Well, probably not,” he shot back, without thinking. “But I’m in a profession that--”
“That will be all,” the judge declared, mid-sentence, banging down her gavel.
The third day Z was sworn in.
His arrival was shocking--looking pruned from mass quantities of vodka and no doubt drugs of the illegal kind that he had surely consumed since their “tearful” departure. Z reeked of beer, although mid-morning, and Jack was getting great pleasure watching his former LA friend turned Illinois dickhead squirm in the witness chair. He wished like hell he could have heard the exchanges--reading the transcript just didn’t capture the full effect, especially when he reached the parts as juiced as was his former buddy:
McCauley: Dr. Hanson testified that at the early outset of Mr. Mayhew’s hearing problems that started with the diagnosis of Meneire’s, he sent you a letter recommending decibel levels at the radio station be set consistently below 70. Correct?
Z: Yes, sir.
McCauley: “And do you remember your reaction?
Z: I can’t remember the exact moment, but I might have crunched up the letter into a ball and thrown it in Jack’s face.
McCauley: Do you remember any admonitions you may have displayed as you mocked both my client and his hearing specialist?
Z: I do remember that day. It was the only time I saw Fatboy getting ready to cry through all our years together.” [clears throat] “When I saw him feeling sorry for himself, I probably called him a pussy and ragged on him a little. Of course it’s loud, it’s rock and roll! Either quit bitching or go spin records at the Christian station in Hannibal, I probably told him or something like that.
And this:
McCauley: Even after you were aware of your employee’s continuing and expeditious hearing decline, you refused his request for the music to be set at a lower volume.
Z: Not true, your Honor. I complied with OSHA’s request two days after I received their citation that Jack apparently had filed behind my back and notified them as such.
McCauley: I have a copy of the OSHA paperwork right here. Yes, it is true that the average decibel range pre-complaint was consistent with a sustained subway train, and although lower after that date, it still averages above the maximum limit as prescribed by Dr. Hanson.
Z: I’m the boss. I determine my business model, not Jack. Not his ear guy.
Jack couldn’t hear the proceeding but he could observe it keenly. He wondered when he saw Z’s hands shaking in the jury box if his body needed its liquid lunch or if he was worried. The plaintiff hoped the latter, and that the jury would show some sympathy for good old likable, now deaf as a Winchester House crystal doorknob, Fatboy.
4
It was Friday morning, the day after the trial ended, and the wait was killing the Mayhews as surely as the current POTUS was trying to kill American democracy. Jack checked his emails every five minutes for a message from Mr. McCauley to see if the jury had reached a decision. It finally came at 10:42: Hey guys, the jury has come back with a verdict. Be at Courtroom 3 at 1. Wish us luck! Mitch
5
Courtroom 3 was quiet, as was the entire city of Quincy--as would be a football stadium full of Blue Devil fans cheering on the marching band at halftime. The plaintiff and his wife could barely stay composed.
It was a different story when the defendant and his lawyer entered. “How could you do this to me, you ungrateful asshole, Fat?” he mouthed across the aisle. “Fuck this!” Jack had become rather fluent in speech-reading and smiled wide back, hopefully confident his hearing loss would be avenged.
“All rise. The Honorable Melinda A. Williams-Scott court is now in session.”
They sat, the envelope handed to the judge, the verdict announced, the Mayhews gasped, Z smirked. She read:
“Illinois law states that an employee who is injured in a work-related accident that results in a complete and permanent inability to work is considered permanently totally disabled. Individuals with a permanent total disability are entitled to weekly permanent disability compensation equal to two-thirds of their average weekly wage. Therefore, considering Mr. Mayhew could reasonably have worked another decade until Social Security’s enrollment age, the amount calculated would be $240,231.51 prorated at his current salary.”
She glanced at Jack before commencing. “The financial loss previously accrued as a result of the plaintiff’s permanent deafness shall also be reimbursed by the defendant. I have copies of the out-of-pocket medical expenditures since Mr. Mayhew’s initial diagnosis of Meniere’s disease by his doctor, the hearing aid purchased, and the audiologist fees and charges. The judgment for care already rendered shall be an additional $29,230.62. The defendant shall also be monetarily responsible for any and all hearing-related out-of-pocket expenditures the plaintiff may require in the future, plus all court costs and fees.
Jack was elated—felt vindicated!—but after doing some quick figuring, realized they weren’t going to be installing a golden Jacuzzi in their new penthouse in a building stamped MAYHEW anytime soon.
A lousy couple hundred thou? That ain’t much, he thought and squirmed a little uncomfortably in the chair. And Julia, god love an only child, will have that pissed away in a couple years. He smiled and gave her a nudge. She signed back, can you believe it?, unnecessary since he was reading her face and not her fingers.
“Now for the issue of punitive damages—damages as a legal recompense that a defendant found guilty of committing a wrong or offense is ordered to pay on top of compensatory damages. These are awarded by a court of law not to compensate injured plaintiffs, but to punish defendants whose conduct is considered grossly intentional, which, in this case, a jury ruled in your favor, sir,” Her Honor looked up and was eye-to-eye with Jack. A court-appointed ASL interpreter signed what Julia heard.
“Mr. Mayhew, your emotional pain is worth something, but how much? How do you measure it in dollars and cents? To do so, you would have to prove your pain and suffering through physical evidence, medical records, and expert medical testimony, which you and Mr. McCauley have certainly accomplished here,” she continued.
“Under Illinois law, emotional distress damage includes incurring post-traumatic stress disorder, emotional trauma or depression, permanent limitations on daily activities, embarrassment or humiliation, and other maladies as a direct result of the employer who acted with the specific intention to harm.”
The judge sipped some water and signed to Jack, I have a taste of what you’re going through. She took another sip and spoke to everybody.
“I have a nephew, a Marine, Semper fidelis!, who did three tours in Afghanistan, the last, in the Gamir district on a base that was established to combat insurgent activity in the Helmand Valley, a hotbed of terrorist activity,” she told the courtroom.
“In 2014, the light tactical vehicle he and two other Marines were driving withstood an improvised explosive device attack; physically, no lives or limbs were lost—in macho battlefield braggadocio, they were thankful they only got their bells rung, as if they had been in a boxing match with Manny Pacquiao.” Everybody in the courtroom except Jack could hear the few faint chuckles as she took another sip of water and continued.
“When he returned to the States, I watched my nephew’s hearing progressively deteriorate over time. He suffered with strikingly similar symptoms that you, Mr Mayhew, have suffered, until he, too, heard nothing. Every family member, including his aunt who is currently sitting on this bench, has observed and felt his frustrations, confusion, and depression, as he, too, struggles to adjust to a world so highly dependent on hearing. My nephew, Marine Staff Sergeant Martin Winters, will not collect punitive damages from the United States Marine Corp, Mr. Mayhew, but you will collect yours from the defendant in the amount of $2.7 million”.
Julia pounded it out on her iPad.
“And add another $200 to that for contempt charges,” she said sternly, directly to Z, “for showing up in my courtroom, intoxicated. Court dismissed.”
Gavel drop.
6
“Good luck squeezing beer from a turnip, ya ungrateful little bastard,” Z mouthed smugly, turned, and strutted down the courtroom aisle. He didn’t have the money for liability insurance (nor for health or car insurance), or any assets worth much, just a still sizable bank loan, despite W***’s quarterly ratings that stayed consistently neck-and-neck with the #1 station churning out pop hits the past two decades.
Remaining caustic and controversial in this medium sized-city, still mostly Catholic and conservative, his inflammatory diatribes had ramped up considerably since the 2016 election, with more advertisers setting fire to their contracts. Now with the national midterm elections coming up in November, Z was going full tilt blowhard, a liberal yin to Rush’s yang, both obnoxious and addicted. The station’s new tagline every afternoon between noon and six could have been “Shut the fuck up and play some Ozzy!!
7
Settlement negotiations between Davis, Davis, & McCauley and Z’s attorney were short and sweet; from the start, Jack demanded not a dime from Z, or any of his assets; not the tower or the building—Z’s bank still owned most of that stuff. All he wanted was a single piece of paper. The one issued by the Federal Communications Commission that provides the authority to use a bit of the radio spectrum—an asset owned by the American public and managed by the U.S. Government—the broadcasting license needed to print money made by music.
Z could keep all the poorness he had earned—without a job or income, there was no way he would be able to make the next bank note. Or the next.
Jack came out to the station to personally fire the asshole, gleefully—especially doing it in sign language, punctuated by several exclamation points made with his middle fingers.
“Fuck you, Fat. Oh, yeah, and by the way, here’s the books. You owe the bank this much and our billing last month was this much. Good luck making payments,” Z fumed with a smirk as he tossed a three-ring notebook into Jack’s lap. “And you’re sure to lose a lot of viewers who love me and my funny drive-time shit. Fucking deaf fucking owner of the radio station that I built from scratch. You’ll get yours, you skinny little prick! You’ll be off the air in three months, you fucking earless wonder!”
Jack, sitting with a cool detachment, smiled as Z gathered his bottles and personals from the station and vamoosed. He was now owner of W*** and Z was now unemployed. Advertisers smiled, too, and were ready to expand their reach in a broadcast market of 100,000 potential customers.
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