Carolina Paralegal News

By Annette Church, Special to CPN

Church

Editor’s Note: This column is part two of a two-part series that began in our September issue. In that column, Church describes returning to work to find a gas leak in the office – and suspicious behavior by her attorney.

Even though it was confirmed that someone had purposefully created a natural gas leak in the attorney’s office where I worked for Mr. Craig*, we still had to continue working at the rapid-fire rate required to meet filing deadlines and keep clients from growing upset. Yet, there was now a definitive schism between me and the attorney whom I had grown to respect. He showed genius abilities in the courtroom, and I also respected his concern for his clients’ individual circumstances.

Mr. Craig and his wife frequently invited my son and me to their home for meals. I often cared for his two young children during and after working hours. Yet now, there was an awkwardness between us, unspoken yet growing by the hour. I could not rationalize his behavior on the day of the gas leak. And the myriad of alternatives whirling in my mind gave me migraines.

One morning soon after the gas fiasco, Mr. Craig instructed me to bring one of my father’s handguns to the office; when I did so, he wanted me to place it within easy access of my desk. I felt a stabbing pain starting behind my right eyeball, the typical origin of my migraines. Before my jaw had time to drop, he proceeded into a gloriously sound explanation (at least, in his view) for why arming myself at work was mandatory.

“I really did not want to have to tell you this. I really didn’t. But you and I have been receiving death threats,” he said.

Once or twice a week, Mr. Craig worked through the night, and he was always at work by 6 a.m. or earlier if he did not pull an all-nighter. That’s how he had been able to protect me from discovering the notes someone had been dropping through the mail slot in the front door of the office. When I asked him where he was keeping the notes or if he had already given them to the police, he had a gentle look of concern on his face. Then he said, “Oh, no. I flushed them. They’re gone, flushed down the toilet. I couldn’t risk you discovering them.”

I could not believe he destroyed evidence.

Mr. Craig continued with his reasoning on why I should arm myself at work. He told me to take time to look around my office that day and come up with a good place to keep the gun within “easy reach.”

The remainder of the week swept by without any additional mention of me becoming the office’s armed security force. Mr. Craig was out of the office more than he was in it. Thankfully, he had nothing scheduled for court, although he had client appointments each day. Uncharacteristically, when he called me from his cell phone, the connection was very poor and we were often disconnected. I had no idea where he was, though I thought I heard him say something about Wake County. He insisted I not call his wife under any circumstances.

I was on the phone often that week, trying to reach clients and reschedule for the following week. Not that Mr. Craig had expressed concern about his appointments. After one call, I glanced up and looked out the window less than 2 feet from my desk, where a strange man was staring at me. I froze. After a quick thaw I ran to the restroom.

Smart move, I thought to myself – there was no telephone back there. I comforted myself knowing the office doors were locked because I was working alone. Just how long was I going to be willing to hide out?

It turned out I was willing to spend about 35 minutes in the restroom before venturing back to the front of the office. Whoever had been outside was gone and I felt ridiculous.

Before the day was over, the same fellow made a few more uncanny appearances. I was hesitant to call the police because he wasn’t breaking the law. The man just walked up and down the sidewalk in front of the office a few times and once stopped across the street to stare at the front of the office for several minutes. I never saw him again.

In another strange request, nearly four weeks after the gas leak, Mr. Craig told me I needed to go to a particular warehouse and look for “paperwork that could have been left behind after the owners left it.” I had been to this site on one occasion with Mr. Craig. It was several miles away from anyone or anything, a cavernous, mostly empty warehouse with a small front office. He and I had looked in the office when he took me there on an unexplained field trip of sorts. There were no files, papers, not even a paper clip.

Why on this earth did he want me to venture out there? It was 4:45 p.m. and would be dark by the time I arrived. The entry door was encrusted in rust, Mr. Craig himself had struggled with the padlock and now he wanted me to see if any papers were left behind? The particular case related to the warehouse involved a multimillion-dollar scientific intellectual property law suit and countersuit.

Mr. Craig represented the plaintiffs and his description of the defendants had me thinking Mafia. I knew in my heart I would be in danger going there. It was more than fear or fancy; I knew it. The more he insisted, the redder his face became.

By now the sun was fading. I knew nothing had ever been resolved about the threats Mr. Craig said we had received. His months of unusual behavior, including avoiding his clients, instructing me to not speak to his wife and having me arm myself at work, were pushing me to reevaluate this warehouse request in earnest.

“I am not going to go out there. I don’t think it’s safe.”

Mr. Craig dropped the subject and never asked me to go there again.

The majority of the two years I was employed by Mr. Craig, a brilliant litigator, was an educational journey into intellectual property and First Amendment law. Unfortunately, as page by page of his story continued to unfold, it became known he was involved in practices that caused him heartache professionally and personally.

Mr. Craig no longer practices law as a result of charges brought against him by the North Carolina State Bar resulting from inappropriate handling of his trust account prior to my employment, among other activities.

Attorneys with the bar’s Disciplinary Committee of course questioned me at great length, and at 7:15 a.m. on the day before the story hit our local paper, one of the attorneys telephoned me at home. He wanted me to give me a heads-up that Mr. Craig was going to be in the news, and he acknowledged the difficulty I had experienced with the entire fiasco.

In the following days, when I encountered acquaintances at the grocery store, church and other public places, inevitably, the most frequent comment I heard was, “I’m so sorry you worked for him.” To this day, my response is the same: I regret what happened with Mr. Craig and his clients. I have no regrets about working for him. It was a fantastic education I could never have received anywhere else.

Annette G. Church is a North Carolina State Bar-certified paralegal in Charlotte.

achurch COLUMNS, You Are The Link! You Are The Link!

By ANNETTE CHURCH, Special to CPN

My spine suddenly felt as if someone had plugged it into a high-voltage outlet. The sensation was a combination of chills and heightened sensitivity throughout my body. With another stare at my computer monitor, there was no denying it. The document on my computer screen was inconsistent with what I held in my hands.

I had been doing work for a client on a government website. At the close of the assignment, I was required to enter my first and last name. Protocol required me to print the final page, which showed my name and details about when I completed the work.

I was holding the printed confirm-ation page. I expected it to mirror the image of what I was viewing on the computer screen.

This was a familiar site for me. What appeared on the monitor looked the same as it had in the preceding times I had worked there. I entered my first and last name. There was no space or area anywhere for me to provide my middle initial or middle name. There never had been one during my use of this site and there was not one on this particular occasion.

Reflected on the confirmation page were my first name and last name. However, there was also my maiden name on the printed document – something I had never provided to this website. It was appropriately placed.

But I had not entered my maiden name or initial that evening. Moreover, there had never been a time when I provided my maiden name or initial while using that site.

And wouldn’t you know it? This was an evening I was the last one left in the office. It was late. Was I seeing things?

Abruptly, I recalled a state-ment an old friend made 12 years ago: “Those computers are just the eyes of someone staring at you!”

The remark was part of a conversation regarding our government’s ability to have access to any person’s computer use – past or present. This was before identity theft or someone accessing an online shopper’s credit card account information was so prolific.

Back then, I thought he was the one on the silly side. Guess who’s laughing now?

I cannot claim to have expertise in computer technology. Nonetheless, I am aware some employers are able to shadow employees’ computer monitors and have a real-time view of the screen the employee is seeing. There are assorted spyware products available and digital forensics can show a computer user’s Internet search history.

Certainly a case can be made for an employer’s justification to ascertain the work of the employee. At this point in time, the computer-using public is generally aware of the need to safeguard private information such as bank account numbers.

Since 9/11, the topic of invasion of personal privacy is an issue discussed every day. I accept the fact that when I am accessing a federal government site, my activity there could be scrutinized. However, the incident I experienced still startled me.

Again, the only personal information I provided to this particular site was my first and last name, along with my employer’s name and contact information. I am aware there are numerous other individuals with whom I share the same first and last name. Yet in the computer universe, someone or something recognized it was me, not another person with the same name.

The direct connection made to me was surprising and left me with a feeling of uncomfortable vulnerability.

I never doubted our government’s ability to know my online history. My amazement was in experiencing the direct link made to me regardless of the limited amount of information given. And I still find it strange that what I printed out was not reflected on the screen. Even a few computer-savvy individuals noted surprise in what occurred.

This experience served as a caution flag. For a period of time I avoided online purchases.

Then I contemplated the multiple places I have made myself open to such vulnerability. I have provided personal information over time to Facebook, LinkedIn and other professional and community organizations by way of the Internet.

Grasping my own accountability was another surprise. It has taken place over time, as I became more comfortable using sites and sharing. I have contributed to the placement of some quantity to the information floating through the Internet about myself. I am responsible for the material I have elected to make available. I am now much more selective with what I share and with whom.

Discovering we are vastly and intimately more connected through our computer use than I had ever considered can still bring me hesitation at times. I continue to be a frequent user of the same website because it is necessary professionally. Yet I have a tiny bit of personal rebellion that brings a bit of solace.

I still do not provide my middle, maiden name or initial, even though the site now provides a place to do so. They know it is me again anyway.

Editor’s note: Annette G. Church is an N.C. State Bar-certified paralegal with Ted A. Greve and Associates of Charlotte.

achurch COLUMNS, You Are The Link! Annette Church, You Are The Link!