The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari | Page 4

dazzle all those present with
an eloquent and airtight closing argument, he now droned on for
hours, rambling about obscure cases that had little or no bearing
on the matter before the Court. Where once he would react gracefully
to the objections of opposing counsel, he now displayed a
biting sarcasm that severely tested the patience of judges who had
earlier viewed him as a legal genius. Simply put, Julian's spark of
life had begun to flicker.
It wasn't just the strain of his frenetic pace that was marking
him for an early grave. I sensed it went far deeper. It seemed to
be a spiritual thing. Almost every day he would tell me that he felt
no passion for what he was doing and was enveloped by emptiness.
Julian said that as a young lawyer, he really loved the Law, even
though he was initially pushed into it by the social agenda of his
family. The Law's complexities and intellectual challenges had
kept him spellbound and full of energy. Its power to effect social
change had inspired and motivated him. Back then, he was more
than just some rich kid from Connecticut. He really saw himself
as a force for good, an instrument for social improvement who
could use his obvious gifts to help others. That vision gave his life
meaning. It gave him a purpose and it fuelled his hopes.
There was even more to Julian's undoing than a rusty
connection to what he did for a living. He had suffered some
great tragedy before I had joined the firm. Something truly
unspeakable had happened to him, according to one of the senior
partners, but I couldn't get anyone to open up about it. Even old
man Harding, the notoriously loose-lipped managing partner
who spent more time in the bar of the Ritz-Carlton than in his
embarrassingly large office, said that he was sworn to secrecy.
Whatever this deep, dark secret was, I had a suspicion that it, in
some way, was contributing to Julian's downward spiral. Sure I
was curious, but most of all, I wanted to help him. He was not
only my mentor; he was my best friend.
And then it happened. This massive heart attack that brought
the brilliant Julian Mantle back down to earth and reconnected
him to his mortality. Right in the middle of courtroom number
seven on a Monday morning, the same courtroom where we had
won the Mother of All Murder Trials.
CHAPTER TWO
The Mysterious Visitor
It was an emergency meeting of all of the firm's members. As we
squeezed into the main boardroom, I could tell that there was a
serious problem. Old man Harding was the first to speak to the
assembled mass.
"I'm afraid I have some very bad news. Julian Mantle suffered
a severe heart attack in court yesterday while he was arguing the
Air Atlantic case. He is currently in the intensive care unit, but his
physicians have informed me that his condition has now stabilized
and he will recover. However, Julian has made a decision, one that
I think you all must know. He has decided to leave our family and
to give up his law practice. He will not be returning to the firm."
I was shocked. I knew he was having his share of troubles, but
I never thought he would quit As well, after all that we had been
through, I thought he should have had the courtesy to tell me this
personally. He wouldn't even let me see him at the hospital. Every
time I dropped by, the nurses had been instructed to tell me that
he was sleeping and could not be disturbed. He even refused to take
my telephone calls. Maybe I reminded him of the life he wanted to
forget Who knows? I'll tell you one thing though. It hurt.
That whole episode was just over three years ago. Last I
heard, Julian had headed off to India on some kind of an expedition.
He told one of the partners that he wanted to simplify his
life and that he "needed some answers", and hoped he would find
them in that mystical land. He had sold his mansion, his plane
and his private island. He had even sold his Ferrari. "Julian
Mantle as an Indian yogi," I thought. "The Law works in the
most mysterious of ways."
As those three years passed, I changed from an overworked
young lawyer to a jaded, somewhat cynical older lawyer. My wife
Jenny and I had a family. Eventually, I began my own search for
meaning. I think it was having kids that did it. They fundamentally
changed the way I saw the world and my role in it. My dad said it
best when he said, "John, on your deathbed you will never wish
you spent more time at the office." So I started spending a little
more time at home. I settled into a pretty good, if ordinary, existence.
I joined the Rotary Club and played golf on Saturdays to
keep my partners and clients happy. But I must tell you, in my
quiet moments I often thought of Julian and wondered what had
become of him in the years since we had unexpectedly parted
company.
Perhaps he