You never hear much about river mussels. That’s even in comparison to other bivalve mollusks. While a river mussel sits in that stream bed cleaning gallons of fresh water daily, water you and I and countless animals straight out of a Disney film depend on, who gets the attention? Clams. Clams have restaurants and packaging named after them. Clams have frigging Venus springing ashore from their shells. And then there’s oysters. To be an oyster is to offer the world. Did you know that river mussels also form pearls? Now you do. Kind of makes you reconsider the river mussel, among the littlest of gals and guys in our ecosystem.
Some may find glory, but there’s no glory or drinking water unless the bottom feeders do their job. Enter Vernon Stagg, attorney for the injured and aggrieved. Vernon’s role in our ecosystem is to land his clients a buck or two upon quick settlement, whether or not their pains and mental anguish are legit. Only a fast buck or two, but it’s a volume business.
Unless the filtering system gets clogged. In Vernon’s case, a long-term accumulation of ethics sediment in his revenue stream. Oh, there was a heyday when Vernon could go on punching that lawyering ticket. But heydays pass as they do, and here’s Vernon in a reputation-damaged fees crunch. Counsel for the little gal/guy is in trouble–and in that sense, so is the little gal/guy.
This is my second go at Vernon, after 2016’s “The Cumberland Package.” That first try was about force of will, its forgings and its failings. Spoiler-free version: Vernon went through a wringer of his own vacillating will and lack thereof. Choices and his reasons behind them: It’s as good a guess as any for why Vernon works on the page. He’s a bloviating moral compromise–but only so far. Vernon has a code. For a second try at him, I was after his particular sense of right and wrong.