April 7, 1994, Chicago, Illinois“No, Mr. Littleton, I won’t grant this discovery without the agreement from the law firms involved.”“But Your ...onor, they’re trying to hide behind attorney-client privilege when none exists!” Brandon Littleton protested.“No, Sir,” the judge said firmly. “You’re asking for records from other law firms. If you want them, you’ll need to either get their signatures, or agree to an evidentiary hearing for each firm where they have representation. No court I’m aware of. "Do you like yours?" she asked, suddenly curious.Now that was a question he had been asking himself recently. "Sometimes," he hedged. What's not to like? Long hours on the road, nightmares that had him sleeping with the lights on if and when he could go back to sleep. He hadn't seen his family in forever, much to his mother's constant regret. His last holiday off had been Labor day and he had spent it doing his laundry. His last vacation was too long ago to remember. And it was really hard to. More

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