GARY WAS A GREAT LAWYER when
he was sober; now he’s gone
By Brian Cuban Esq.
BrianCuban.com
Dallas, Texas
This article first appeared at http://
abovethelaw.com/
S
ummer 2013: A muggy, hot
morning headed over the
100-degree mark, not unusual
for a Dallas summer. I’m taking my
usual drive to my favorite Starbucks.
I drive past the same bus stop every
day. To the average commuter, the
bus stop had nothing to set it off from
any other. Just one more city hub with
people waiting to go to different parts of
their lives: jobs, family, shopping. This
particular bus stop always catches my
attention, because to me it symbolizes
more. I know it as a way-station for
those in various stages of drug and
alcohol recovery and descent. The
apartment complex across the street
houses many recovering addicts. It’s
cheap (by Dallas standards) and within
walking distance of a local AA group.
The bus line also takes people close
to several sober-living homes. Different
stories from all walks of life confirm that
addiction does not discriminate.
This morning, I see one such story with
whom I’m intimately familiar standing
at the bus stop. It’s my old colleague,
Gary, waiting for the bus. Also a
lawyer, Gary has an undergraduate
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CONSUMER BANKRUPTCY JOURNAL
degree from Boston College, summa
cum laude, near the top of his class at
Antioch School of Law, and then on to
a great sports-related job with NBC in
New York City. He wasn’t just a lawyer;
he was a distinguished lawyer
I’d met Gary in 2003 (four years before
I got sober) when we both worked
of-counsel to a local Dallas firm. At
the time, I was trying to hold my life
together between addiction, failed
marriages, and an eating disorder.
Being “high-functioning” was a blessing
and a curse. In my mind, I needed
no help despite the daily snorting of
cocaine in the bathroom of the firm or
on my office desk. It provided just the
pickup I needed sometimes, and it all
made perfect sense to me. I viewed
my law firm bathroom/coke breaks as
a performance enhancer that would
allow me to do my job better. To make
me a more confident attorney, if only for
a few moments.
I tried a case with Gary — a bench trial
contract matter. It was the last time
I’d appear in court to litigate a case.
Sober and brilliant, Gary ran the show.
I admired his skill, but didn’t envy him.
Being in the courtroom made me sick
to my stomach. A sickness only alcohol
and cocaine could cure. I couldn’t wait
Winter 2016
to be done with trial. But Gary was truly
talented, and he knew exactly what he
was doing. We had a good result.
Then Gary disappeared. He’d done
so sporadically over the years since I
first met him. I knew what that meant.
Gary would go through stretches of
stellar representation of his clients, and
then there’d be periods of complaints
of neglect, and even rumors that he’d
show up to client meetings apparently
high. Then an arrest on an outstanding
warrant in the middle of a court hearing.
Gary’s story was generally known
among the local attorneys in recovery.
On this day, Gary doesn’t see me drive
by him at the bus stop. He’s staring at
the ground, just waiting. I’ve called him
recently and noticed that his voicemail
was full. I know what that means. I
suspect many addicts and their families
know what that means. Gary has “gone
out.” He’s not sober.
I pull a U-turn so I can drive up
alongside and offer him a ride. He gets
in. He’s been to an AA meeting and is
headed to the transitional living sober
home where he’s a resident. The only
thing standing between him and living
on the street.
National Association of Consumer Bankruptcy Attorneys