· The Greatest Lawyer Who Ever Lived. He’s the brashest, most generous, most foul-mouthed trial attorney in the country. And at 89, Joe Jamail can still command a …
Yet the state’s most famous sibling lawyers, in their distinctly separate ways, reflect the legacy of Percy Foreman, perhaps the greatest trial lawyer in Texas history and one of the very best who...
2021 Top Texas Lists. Top 100: 2021 Houston Super Lawyers. Top 100: 2021 Dallas/Fort Worth Super Lawyers. Top 50: 2021 Central/West Texas Super Lawyers. Top 50: 2021 Women Texas Super Lawyers. Top 10: 2021 Texas Super Lawyers. Top 100: 2021 Texas Super Lawyers. Up-and-Coming 50: 2021 Women Texas Rising Stars.
The Greatest Lawyer Who Ever Lived He’s the brashest, most generous, most foul-mouthed trial attorney in the country. And at 89, Joe Jamail can still command a courtroom, mother%*!$#@.
Of the most influential lawyers in American history, there are five that stand out. Five of the best lawyers in American history are Abraham Lincoln, Mary Jo White, Johnnie Cochran, Joe Jamail, and Thurgood Marshall.
In 2014, the year before his death, Forbes estimated his net worth at $1.7 billion, making him the 373rd richest person in America....Joseph Dahr Jamail Jr.Joseph D. Jamail Jr.CitizenshipUnited StatesEducationUniversity of Texas at AustinAlma materUniversity of Texas School of LawOccupationAttorney2 more rows
The 20 Richest Lawyers in the WorldRichard Scruggs: $1.7 billion.Joe Jamail: $1.7 billion. ... Wichai Thongtang: $1.1 billion. ... William Lerach: $900 million. ... Bill Neukom: $850 million. ... Judy Sheindlin: between $150 million and $250 million. ... Willie E. ... Roy Black: $100 million. ... More items...
Clarence Darrow is considered one of the greatest trial lawyers in American history. While he was one of the first to raise the national alarm over consumer safety issues, Darrow actually got his start in law representing large corporations.
Jun 29, 2020 — Top 10 Best Lawyers In The World 2021 · John Branca · Jane Wanjiru Michuki · Roy Black · Willie E. Gary · Judy Sheindlin · Bill Neukom · William Lerach (5)… Howard K. SternStacey GardnerVikki ZieglerHarish SalveVernon JordanJohn BrancaWillie E.
December 23, 2015Joe Jamail / Date of death
Who Is The Number 1 Lawyer In The World? After graduating from Harvard Law School in 1962, Alan Dershowitz went straight to work. According to Fortune magazine, he is "corporate America's number one hired gun." He joined the Harvard Law School faculty in 1964 and was made a full professor in 1967. (He retired in 2013.)
Attorneys in Texas are not far behind the top five. The average salary for an attorney in Texas is $144,110. The state with the lowest average income for lawyers is Montana, with an average annual income for lawyers of $83,030.
Famous Lawyers You Should KnowRobert Shapiro. Robert Shapiro is one of the best-known lawyers in American history. ... Thurgood Marshall. Thurgood Marshall was one of the most famous lawyers in American history. ... Woodrow Wilson. ... Johnnie Cochran. ... William Howard Taft. ... Andrew Jackson. ... Abraham Lincoln. ... Robert Kardashian.More items...
Gerald Leonard Spence (born January 8, 1929) is a semi-retired American trial lawyer. He is a member of the American Trial Lawyers Hall of Fame. Spence has never lost a criminal case either as a prosecutor or a defense attorney, and has not lost a civil case since 1969.
Robert George Kardashian (February 22, 1944 - September 30, 2003) was an Armenian-American attorney & businessman. He gained national recognition as O.J.'s friend and defense attorney during his 1995 murder trial.
Paul ClementPaul Clement argued the most times with 30 total arguments. Neal Katyal was second with 21 arguments. Jeffrey Fisher had the third most with 18 arguments and Kannon Shanmugam had the fourth most with 15 arguments.
In 1965 DeGuerin got his law degree. He followed his law school buddies to Houston, where the action was, where Percy Foreman was. He sought employment from each of the big firms, who wanted experienced trial lawyers or top-of-the-class graduates. DeGuerin was neither. A family connection got him an interview with Harris County district attorney Frank Briscoe. The meeting went well, and DeGuerin was handed a formal application to fill out. The back page, which questioned the applicant’s criminal record, had for some reason not reproduced. DeGuerin got the job.
Mike DeGeurin smiles warily at the topic. “I enjoy making decisions without having to argue with my brother about it,” he says. And there are other things at stake. When Percy Foreman died, he willed Mike his business—and he willed him his name. The actual name, “Percy Foreman.” How could Mike DeGeurin desert all that? This was his firm now, though always the old man’s. Percy would have had something to say on the subject, something about spiritual destiny. Then again, the two of them never got a chance to talk about religion.
At last, Percy Foreman said slowly, “You know, I feel like the cowboy on the corner with a saddle in his hands. I can’t remember whether I lost my horse or found a saddle.”
DeGuerin, stubborn to the end, said,”Then I’ll leave.”
DeGuerin and Foreman walked back to the car in silence. The young lawyer knew the old man had dug his own grave, but DeGuerin had developed his own perfectionist streak under Foreman ’s tutelage and now tormented himself thinking of ways he could have salvaged a victory. “Look, I’m sorry,” he began, but Foreman cut him off. “Don’t worry about it,” grunted the old man, and they drove back to the office together and did not discuss the case again.
He learned, during his short briefings with the impatient lawyer, “how to boil something down to its essence, which of course is a really important skill when you’re explaining something to a jury.” He learned that the business of trial law was trying cases, not pleading them, and that this often meant playing hardball with his old pals over at the DA’s office. He learned how to use the press to force answers out of the police, and how to salvage a little goodwill with the police by giving them occasional pro bono legal assistance. Above all, he learned the value of reading people: knowing when a juror remains unpersuaded, when a witness is ready to crater, when a prosecutor is bluffing, when a client is lying.
It was always a temptation to reduce the big man to a single comic-book dimension, but there was much more to Foreman than met the eye. True, he charged high fees, but never as enormous as reported: It was a tactic to screen out the nuisance cases, and he handled many clients for little or nothing. (He also enjoyed referring plum cases to attorneys he liked and wacko cases to those he despised.) His pride in his murder-case record was matched by his fervent moral opposition to capital punishment—which, he once caustically remarked, “should not only be on television but be sponsored by the Texas Power and Light Company, which supplies the juice.” And for all the millions he made in divorce cases, he forfeited millions more by turning such clients away. “In many cases,” says his former associate Lewis Dickson, “he set out after the husband with such an insulting fervor that he accomplished his ultimate purpose, which was to get them back together. He saved a lot of marriages.” In one such case, a wealthy River Oaks woman answered Foreman’s question “Why are you seeking a divorce?” with the answer “I’m just not happy.” Foreman roared, “You don’t need a lawyer! You need a pharmacist! You’ll never find someone who treats you as well as this man does! Now get out of my office!” The woman remains married to this day.
John O’Quinn didn’t just set out to be a lawyer, he set out to be the best (and the richest) lawyer who ever lived. And over the course of a long career, he amassed the astronomical courtroom paydays, outrageous car collection, luxury homes, and list of mortal enemies to prove it. Now, a year after his shocking death, he’s got the bitter, tawdry estate battle too.
But with so much money involved, the case quickly became a legal free-for-all. Dale Jefferson, O’Quinn’s main litigator, was representing Treece; Griffis, the attorney who had met with Darla and O’Quinn during their estate planning, was representing the estate, though in order to do so he’d decided to resign from the board of the O’Quinn Foundation, where he’d worked closely with Wilson. The accountant who had managed O’Quinn’s affairs for decades (often working with Darla toward the end) was now working on behalf of the estate as well. As Judge Mike Wood would later remark, trying to hurry along the battalion of high-priced talent assembling at the trough, “I’m looking at five-thousand dollars an hour here.”
Of course, that wouldn’t be O’Quinn’s way, and Treece and Wilson both learned at the feet of the master.
But Treece had another equally pressing problem. John O’Quinn had died with about $180 million in debt. Not only had he mortgaged the ranch to the tune of about $48 million, but he owed another $40 million or so on the judgment won by Jamail on behalf of O’Quinn’s former breast implant clients. He had spent tens of millions on cars and had played the stock market desperately at a time when it was crashing with frightening speed. Though Treece was able to settle with Jamail almost immediately—O’Quinn had kept fighting, literally, till the day he died—he realized he’d have to sell some property to pay off the other debts, specifically the ranch, the house in River Oaks, and the cars.
Treece’s fee as the executor of the estate was an estimated $8 million to $10 million; Wilson’s firm, in which he’s a partner, was already taking commissions for arranging sales of O’Quinn’s various properties. The fact that he could potentially distribute millions to Houston charities also made him, suddenly, one of the most sought-after men in town. Wilson’s power could not have eluded Treece: South Texas College of Law undoubtedly hoped to benefit from the O’Quinn Foundation in the future, as it had in the past. But the will stipulated that if the executor didn’t probate the estate as O’Quinn requested, he could be replaced by Wilson. Clearly, there had been some pickup talk that Darla had not been privy to, and maybe Treece hadn’t either.
John O’Quinn’s funeral took place on November 4, at Second Baptist Church, almost a week after his death. Thousands of people showed up for the event, which Darla planned. The bountiful spray of blooms across O’Quinn’s coffin suggested there wasn’t a red rose left in Ecuador. Michelle gave a tearful eulogy, but you could see others wrestling with the complexity of the deceased. Gerald Treece, who had called O’Quinn “the best big brother in the world,” admitted sadly that “in the last ten years he had beaten the monster of alcoholism but not the monster of low self-esteem.” From the lectern, his white hair shimmering and his voice weary, Treece extended a hand toward Darla and noted “how much John cared about his family and how much he loved you guys.” The Reverend Ed Young followed with a dramatic retelling of O’Quinn’s abandonment of alcohol through his conversion to Christ and then gave Darla props for helping O’Quinn to know what it felt like “to be a little boy on Christmas Eve.” He closed on a surprisingly bracing note, calling O’Quinn “a great hero and a coward . . . who leaves behind a legacy that will never be understood.”
But it was not a perfect union. “I kinda found myself empathizing a lot with the victim,” O’Quinn told the Chronicle in 1998. “Sometimes our client was in the wrong, and the object was to get the cases settled. In those cases, I’d get to meet the victims or their families and take their depositions. Some of these were terrible injury cases.” They were, mostly, people from modest backgrounds like his own, whose only power against massive corporations rested with their attorney. After two years he left to join a plaintiff’s firm.