MATHUR IN A LATHER: A SLAPP-SUIT COMEDYBy Big Bill B [aka Roy Bauer]
Dissent 47, 3/20/00
Background: on the 29th of February, Judge Michael Brenner of OC Superior Court granted a motion to dismiss Raghu Mathur’s lawsuit against me. Mathur had accused me of invading his privacy by reporting (in the January 11 & 19, 1999, issues of Dissent) his violations of a federal law that, ironically, protects the privacy of students. Brenner had ruled that the reports were “newsworthy” and that I should be afforded the protection of the 1st Amendment and California’s anti-SLAPP statute. Two weeks later, on the 14th of March, Judge McEachen, sitting in for Brenner, issued a ruling on Terry Burgess’ motion to dismiss (Burgess had also been named in the suit). Terry had been accused of conspiring with me to break into Mathur’s personnel file, thereby securing a copy of Larios’ reprimand of Mathur plus a legal opinion from the district’s attorney, Spencer Covert. According to Covert’s opinion, Mathur had indeed violated the federal law and district policy by distributing a student’s transcripts (in a failed attempt to discredit an administrator).
The misdirected philosopher:
MARCH 14: Addled by hypoglycemia and still hobbling from a nasty fall in the shower, I entered the big downtown court building, and, as usual, I didn’t get past the metal detector. At least they didn’t make me take off my shoes and belt, as they once did in the federal court building in LA!
Eventually, they let me in, and I headed upstairs to the 3rd floor, but I couldn’t find the courtroom anywhere. I consulted a directory: Brenner was on the 5th floor, not the 3rd! I headed up, arriving fifteen minutes late, at about 1:45. Entering courtroom 112, I beheld a stranger on the bench: a Judge David T. McEachen. Evidently, McEachen had taken over for Brenner for the day.
As I sat down next to Wendy, a pissed off lawyer was addressing the court about a company named “Paradigm.” “Paradigm took this money!” said someone, according to the lawyer. When the lawyer ceased yammering, Judge McEachen turned to the other guy, smiled benevolently, and said: “It’s your turn.”
Meanwhile, Wendy wrote me a note that said that we’re number 15, and McEachen’s now on number 9, and it shouldn’t take him long to get to us, ‘cuz most people didn’t file their 378s. —Lawyers talk that way.
The pissed off lawyer—a Mr. Burger—was fumin’ again, referring to another judge as “Black Jack Ryan,” which evoked laughter among the lawyers and bemusement or irritation from McEachen. The other guy responded with: “Mr. Burger will strike me if I’m wrong,” but he was wrong (I think), and Burger didn’t lay a finger on ‘im.
The next case concerned “Mass Mutual.” “You got the tentative,” said McEachen to the attorneys.
The tentative ruling:
Maybe they got it, maybe they didn’t. Wendy wrote me a note, saying that there was a tentative ruling in our case, too , but she was unable to secure the damned thing. The day before, we learned of its existence but were told that “Brenner doesn’t issue tentatives.” It turns out that Corfield and his partner—Mr. Rovell—were in the same boat as us, the HMS Clueless.
“Mass Mutual is taking it out of her hide,” said one lawyer, over on the right. The left lawyer, an Aussie in an ill-fitting suit, looked from my perspective (directly behind him) like he was standing at a urinal. The first guy—in his early 60s and dressed for a trip to Palm Springs—said he was “emotional” about the case. “I probably screwed up,” he confessed. They discussed the concept of “surprise.” “Surprise is not enough,” said someone.
I had no idea what they were talking about.
Suddenly lapsing into abominable incorrectness, someone spoke of the “lady lawyer up in Idaho,” but no one seemed to care. The Palm Springs guy seemed upset about the tentative judgment, which, he said, “is unjust in the extreme.” Then the Aussie stopped urinating, zipped up, and referred to the “shenanigans” of the Palm Springer, who, in response, pivoted slowly on his tasseled golf shoes with affected indignation. I looked over at the bailiff, who affected wariness, and then over at the court reporter, who affected consciousness. Blah blah blah, said the judge. My eyes glazed over. I lapsed into unconsciousness.
Love never had a chance:
Right about then, Wendy shoved at me and ordered me to get the hell out of the way. Apparently, it was showtime! I gave her and Diana G, the other attorney, a wide berth as they filed past me and then through the little gate—into the “inner sanctum,” as Wendy calls it. This time, Brian Wilson (Corfield) was benched, replaced by his partner Mike Love (Mr. Rovell).
Love never had a chance.
McEachen, wasting no time, referred to the tentative ruling—the one we had not yet seen—as we studied his face for clues. He announced that our motion to strike—i.e., our motion to have Mathur’s suit dismissed—had been granted, at least in the tentative ruling, by Brenner. (Whoopee!) According to Brenner/McEachen, the plaintiff—that’s Mathur—had not met “his burden” of showing that he would probably prevail in court. (According to the anti-SLAPP statute, the plaintiff must show that he will likely win, or the suit is thrown out right at the start, and the defendant gets attorneys’ fees.) He had accused Terry and me of stealing “private” documents (a reprimand and a legal opinion) from Mathur’s personnel file, but, said the judge, there was no indication of where the documents in question had actually come from. (They sure as hell didn’t come from Mathur’s personnel file!)
Last month, in her response (on my behalf) to Mathur’s complaint, Carol Sobel (my attorney) had argued that the Dissent articles about Mathur and the student’s transcripts were “newsworthy.” According to the new tentative, the plaintiff again hadn’t “controverted” that claim. Neither had he controverted the claim that Mathur is a “public official.” (I think Brenner even noted that, in the case of one document—the legal opinion by Spencer Covert—there is no evidence that I even received it. Maybe that was because, though the Dissent had referred to Covert’s opinion, it had never actually quoted from it.)
The upshot: Slam dunkage.
The judge closed with an analysis: “same facts, same result.” He was saying, I think, that Mathur’s opposition (his filed response to Terry’s motion to strike) simply repeated the failings of Mathur’s earlier opposition to my motion to strike. Ouch.
The Rovel grovel: a malarkey switcheroo
Back on the 29th, Carol had argued that the anti-SLAPP statute, which is designed to counter the chilling effect of lawsuits against those who speak out against the powerful, applies in this case, and we had prevailed on that basis. The two issues of Dissent in question (January 11 and 19, 1999) reported that Mathur violated a federal law—FERPA—plus district policy. (Such, again, was the opinion of the district’s own attorney, Spencer Covert.) Essentially, Mathur’s lawsuit complaint was that I had violated his privacy by revealing this fact, which, he argued, was of no public interest.
When in doubt, reverse gears! Now Mathur’s lawyers argued, not that I had revealed a fact, but that the fact was no fact. That is, though Mathur had indeed disseminated a student’s transcripts, that didn’t mean he violated FERPA (and district policy). I think the idea was that, since Mathur’s dissemination occurred “internal” to the college, it was not an illegal dissemination. In effect, Rovell and Co. were abandoning their original “privacy” malarkey in favor of “defamation” malarkey.
Rovell yammered a bit about the anti-SLAPP statute and then focussed on the notorious January 13 (1999) “misdirected fax.” That was Burgess’ fax of the Covert opinion, which had been sent, accidentally, to the District! Evidently, on the 21st of January, Chancellor Sampson wrote Burgess concerning that fax, and Burgess responded with a letter dated January 29. Rovell now argued that, in the January 29 letter, in a key line, Burgess made an admission that shows that his more recent “declaration” (a sworn statement submitted to the court) is perjurious! (At that moment, Wendy, showing admirable self-control, refrained from socking Rovell in the jaw. I was impressed.)
Rovell also referred to a declaration, in which an instructor describes the widespread availability of the Covert opinion by 1996 and its location in the academic senate’s files as part of the public record. Rovell rejected the entire declaration, arguing that its author’s opinion that these academic senate files are public is “entirely conclusory,” i.e., not supported by the facts.
The Dissent reports were “offensive,” said Rovell, who began to shine with nervousness. He seemed to say that the Covert opinion was a matter of attorney/client confidentiality. (Rovell failed to notice that the opinion was not written for Mathur, but for the district, which had requested a legal opinion regarding the fellow’s actions.) Clearly, said Rovell, the reporting of the Covert letter (and Larios’ reprimand of Mathur) would be “offensive and objectionable to any reasonable person.”
“Lastly,” said Rovell, we must address the matter of “newsworthiness,” regarding which there are “six elements.” One is the “social value” of the facts. Covert’s opinion notwithstanding, Mathur never violated federal law, said Rovell. “How can a false fact have a social value?” An instructor’s personnel file, he said, is “inviolate.” We’re talking about attorney/client documents, he said, inexplicably.
At this point, the court reporter stopped Rovell, asking him to slow down. “Go ahead—slower,” said McEachen. Rovell, glistening with sweat, slowed down, but he kept shinin’.
Newsworthiness: that’s the key
It was Diana’s turn. “Newsworthiness,” she said, isn’t the “last issue,” as Rovell suggested; it’s the “first.” Brenner had decided two weeks ago that the Dissent reports were “newsworthy,” that they had reported matters of “public concern.” How a public official performs his job—Mathur had been the Chair of the School of Physical Sciences at the time of his misconduct—is newsworthy.
Diana referred to Burgess’ January 29 letter. If one reads Burgess’ comment in context, she said, it is clear that he does not acknowledge having ultimately sent the fax to Bauer. (In fact, I never received this document from Burgess.)
Actually, it makes no difference, said Diana, who provided Bauer with the Covert letter, because the report of Mathur’s violations of FERPA were newsworthy, and that’s the key. Still, there’s no evidence that Burgess was the source.
Diana referred to testimony that Covert’s legal opinion was “in circulation” around campus already in 1996. She referred to a declaration by an individual who had sent a letter to trustees in September of 1997; the letter included a copy of the Covert opinion. Clearly, Bauer could have received the Covert letter from many others besides Burgess.
Diana noted that the plaintiff’s attorney is ignoring the three cases she cited in her motion, which delineate which publications constitute a violation of privacy. A misdirected fax, she says, doesn’t cut it.
Diana reminded the court that it had already ruled that the facts reported in the two issues of Dissent were “newsworthy,” and so the plaintiff doesn’t have a leg to stand on. There is absolutely no evidence, she added, that Burgess (or Burgess and Bauer) “stole” documents from Mathur’s personnel file.
The bottom line: the president of IVC, when the head of an academic department, violated district policy and federal law, said Diana. That is a matter of public concern, and that’s what Dissent reported. Further, “plaintiff has not and cannot dispute that Mathur is a public official.” Therefore, he cannot show, as he must, that he will probably prevail in this suit.
Yogi Berra:
McEachen then gave Rovell an opportunity to provide a brief response. Brenner’s opinion of the 29th was “very unfortunate,” said Rovell. There’s an “abundance” of new facts that show, he added, that Mathur never violated the law. Diana’s point about Burgess’ January 29 letter relied on a “play on words,” said Rovell. Facts “can be true or false.” The facts reported in Dissent are false. Mathur does not deny that, internally, he sent around these transcripts, but that’s not illegal. Blah blah blah.
Finally, the judge spoke. He said that he had read Brenner’s notes. And then: “I’m granting the motion. To quote the esteemed Yogi Berra, it’s ‘déjà vu all over again.’” BOOM!
Out in the hallway, we yucked it up pretty good. When Corfield and Rovell approached us with outstretched hands, we shook ‘em. “If Brenner were here, he would have denied the motion,” said surfer dude Corfield. He was kidding, I guess.
Diana, still hangin’ ten, called Carol with her cell phone. “Hey Carol, we’re done. We won,” she said. Wendy turned to me: “Yeah, they got thumped.”
We walked with Diana downstairs. Out front, her ride drove up. She said: “Next, fees.”
Yeah. —BBB [Roy Bauer]
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