Introduction

Meet Dorothy: She is 100 years old, sweet and assuming. She lives alone in a town near where she has lived most of her life.

Meet me: It’s January 8, 2015. I’m an investment fraud lawyer attending a professional conference in Wyoming, trying mightily to get some work done. My plans change when I hear Dorothy’s story, a story that involves small-town America, an invention, hard work, a life lived right, and $30 million. Dorothy’s husband was an engineer who invented a critical piece of equipment for the government. He started a manufacturing company and, after 50 years, concluded his American Dream by retiring and selling his company. They relaxed into their retirement, secure in the knowledge that they had financial freedom for their family. Dorothy and her husband were conservative and never flaunted their wealth. At age 91, he passed away.

Meet the stockbroker: He works for a large national brokerage firm. He discovers Dorothy’s financial net worth by befriending her adult daughter and pounces on the opportunity to pad his own pockets. Within six months, he swindles $30 million from Dorothy, almost the entire accumulation of the couple’s life’s work.

Back to me: A lawyer who heard me speak at a seminar a few years back calls and refers me to this case. No matter the amount, losing a lifetime of savings is devastating and life altering for victims and their families. After hearing Dorothy’s story, I jump on a plane, and, two time zones later, I meet with Dorothy’s estate lawyers and family representatives who explain Dorothy’s distress and the ultimate goal of recovering her money before her passing. Challenge accepted.

This was a case that required all hands on deck at my law firm. We quickly drafted stacks of legal briefs for immediate court filing and coordinated a multi-pronged legal battle to take on several deep-pocket adversaries, who included three sophisticated defense lawyers from several law firms, including one of Wall Street’s top defenders. In the end, I recovered $31,484,900.67 for Dorothy—more than $1 million more than she lost. A copy of the check (with the financial firm’s name redacted for confidentiality purposes) is framed and hangs proudly in my office to remind me of the high stakes of the battles I fight for my clients. It’s about the money, but it’s also about the pride, retribution, and validation that comes with a hard-fought battle for what’s right and just.

Finally, meet Dorothy’s nephew: He calls a few months after the case settles to tell me that he has just returned from Dorothy’s 101st birthday party. At the party, she asks him to thank me again for everything I did for their family. It’s the best feeling in the world.

Trial by Fire

When I tell people I’m a trial lawyer, I say it proudly, fully understanding that their first reaction might be an internal eye roll. I get it. If your only experience with lawyers is based on what you see on television with cheesy advertisements, it’s easy to believe the stereotypes. I’m proud of my profession. I’ve spent my entire career helping people up when they’re down. I fight to level the playing field, restore financial security, and earn my clients the justice they deserve.

I’m your champion if you lose your life savings to an unscrupulous financial advisor—the last person you’d think would lie to you, cheat the system, or steal everything you’ve worked your entire life to save. While the majority of financial advisors and brokerage firms are good and honest, those who are bad and deceptive can ruin your life. I learned this early in my legal career. In fact, I was 28 when I filed my first investment fraud case.

While in law school, I was fortunate enough to work as a law clerk at a prominent personal injury law firm. I was mentored by great lawyers and experienced firsthand the hard work and long hours that come with being a successful trial lawyer. As I searched for my first position as an attorney, my boss recommended me to a small firm focused on tax and business law. In 1995, I started working at this firm while I completed my master’s degree in tax law.

My stint as a tax lawyer lasted about two weeks because I just couldn’t find a passion for it. The U.S. tax code, it turns out, is a boring read 10 hours a day. With the firm’s business clients, I saw an opportunity in litigation, so I requested a transition from taxes to trial work. I dove in headfirst and was conducting jury and bench trials in the courtroom as a young lawyer. Flying solo and learning as I went, many of my nights were spent in the local law library watching videos of famous trial lawyers learning, among other skills, how to pick a jury, present opening statements, and cross-examine the opponent’s experts.

You learn to be a good trial lawyer when you’re thrown in the fire like I was. No matter the case, each one is unique and presents its own set of extraordinary challenges. I am a person who seeks challenges and thrives under pressure. In law school, I learned how to juggle clubs and fire torches and used them to procrastinate when I should have been studying. And even though I was never a distance runner as a kid, I picked up running and ran three marathons in my early years as a lawyer. I was also a professional whitewater rafting guide on the New River in West Virginia during my collegiate years. The New River includes extreme Class IV and V whitewater, and, as a guide, my job was to navigate a full boat of paying guests down the river and through narrow passages, steep drops, and huge waves. The job came with big responsibilities and big thrills. As I look back, it was the perfect training for a trial lawyer.

I’ve seen it all in the courtroom, from opposing counsel trying to punch me in the face after a pretrial conference to a lawyer having a heart attack in the middle of a jury trial during my cross-examination of his witness. In another case, a severe case of poison ivy the day before I started a jury trial forced me to wrap myself in Saran Wrap under my suit to cover the medical cream I’d applied all over my body for treatment. I squeaked when I walked, and the plastic peeked out of my dress shirt as I gave my opening statement to the jury.

Fortunately, my entire life I’ve been inspired in my pursuit of justice by a great lawyer: my dad. Still practicing after nearly 65 years in the small town where I grew up, he built his career helping victims of medical malpractice and personal injury find justice after life-altering events. My father’s lifetime foes have been hospitals and big insurance companies. They could have been my foes, too, had an incredible opportunity not fallen into my lap as a green attorney a few years out of law school.

David v. Goliath

Everything I learned about trial work in my early days armed me with valuable lessons that prepared me for my future. In 1998, three years after I completed law school, I led the fight on behalf of 300 families whose investment portfolios, worth tens of millions of dollars, were liquidated by one financial advisor at Prudential Securities. I filed the class-action lawsuit in which the majority of the class members were retired Whirlpool and GTE line workers with no investment or brokerage firm experience prior to their Prudential relationship. They trusted their advisor and Prudential with their life savings, unaware there was even a possibility their money was in the wrong hands.

I drove hundreds of miles to meet face-to-face with each one of the families I represented. I knew the names of their children, grandchildren, and even their pets. They were relying entirely on a verdict in their favor to recover their financial security. Their fear—and the weight of responsibility I felt—was undeniable.

We fought day and night for seven years against Prudential’s army of Wall Street lawyers with their exceptional resumes, impressive track records, aggressive defense strategies, and seemingly unlimited resources. Many nights, I slept at the office, and my wife would bring me dinner and a change of clothes. We were certainly outgunned, but we would not be outworked. My team lacked the experience and bottomless wallets of our Wall Street opponents, but we made up for it with passion and commitment to make things right. I had to follow through on my promise to the families I represented that I would do everything in my power to get them the justice they deserved.

For the one-month jury trial, my team and I rented a local bed and breakfast and made it our temporary home base. When we weren’t in court, we were there, often working more than 18 hours a day. My son was only seven months old at the time, and I was painfully aware that the sacrifices I made for my job impacted my family. To my entire team, though, this case was more than a job; it was a cause. Occasional visits home during breaks kept us going—that and a freezer in the bed and breakfast stocked to the brim with Klondike ice cream bars for late-night trial prep.

After a month in trial, many witnesses called to the stand, and more ice cream bars than I’d care to admit, we had our result....