Our Friend : Al Wolf
By Thomas A . Dickson
The knock on the door interrupted us . A knock on the conference door in a law office on the 34th floor of the TC Energy Center in Houston . Five lawyers sitting around an oval-shaped conference table while I deposed the oil company ’ s safety director . A safety director who literally knew nothing about safety . Following the knock , the receptionist popped her head in the room .
“ Mr . Dickson , you have an emergency telephone call . You can take it in Mr . Albers ’ office . Follow me .”
We adjourned for a few minutes and I followed her to Mr . Albers ’ office .
“ Hello , this is Tom .” “ Tom , this is Al Wolf . When are you coming home ?” “ Excuse me ?” “ When are you coming home ? We ’ ve got a situation here .” “ I should be home tomorrow . What ’ s going on ?” “ My client is charged with murdering his wife . He ’ s innocent , but we have to get started .” “ Has he talked to the police ?” “ I don ’ t know .” “ Don ’ t let him talk to the police . I think I ’ m home tomorrow afternoon .” “ Come to my office when you get here .”
Click . The phone went dead .
So began our defense of Matthias Zimprich , a 76-year-old retired businessman . Matthias escaped from occupied Europe during WWII . He immigrated to Emmons County , N . D ., where he became a truck driver . Over the years , he built a successful trucking company , which he later sold upon retirement .
Al Wolf grew up in Emmons County . The son of Adam and Magdalena Wolf , he was the youngest of 11 children . He either knew everyone in Emmons County , or he was related to them . English was Al ’ s second language . He spoke German until the first grade .
It was a difficult case . Mrs . Zimprich had been bludgeoned to death as she sat at the kitchen table late one Sunday night . Matthias had recently been diagnosed with cancer . He was undergoing chemotherapy and the treatments left him weak , fatigued , and disoriented . He had retired early that evening after watching “ Dancing with the Stars ” with his wife .
At 2 a . m ., someone called 911 and said , “ My wife is dead . We need an ambulance .”
That someone was Matthias Zimprich .
The facts of the case were pretty muddled . The 911 call was problematic , but the four-hourlong videotaped interrogation at the police station was less so .
Al Wolf
As we gathered evidence , I came to agree with Al . Mr . Zimprich was innocent . However , rather than fight over bail and the bond conditions , Mr . Zimprich remained incarcerated in the Burleigh County jail while we prepared his defense .
They called it the Contact Room . The room where lawyers met their clients . It was a 10-foot x 10-foot windowless box constructed of bland , bleached cinder blocks . No windows , no air , no hope , and no escape . It was the dreariest place on the planet . I hated that room .
A couple of dingy blinking florescent bulbs hung over two plastic institutional chairs separated by a single metal table . The Burleigh County Contact Room - testament to man ’ s inhumanity to man .
It had one door . One way in , and one way out .
On a wall near the door was a white control box with two black buttons . One button marked “ Call .” The second marked “ Private .”
The “ Private ” button meant no listening in by the County . No one believed that . The “ Call ” button actually worked . It summoned a deputy to unlock the door and escort you out . Visitations on Friday afternoons were the most worrisome . Our fear was being ignored . No one wanted to be left in the Contact Room over the weekend .
This was where we met our clients being detained in Burleigh County .
Al cared deeply for Matthias Zimprich . He visited him often in the Contact Room – sometimes every day . I met them there every Friday afternoon to give them an update on what we had , or had not , accomplished that week .
Late one Friday afternoon , I came to the Contact Room with good news , promising news , which was not often the case .
Al was there before me . He was always there before me . His innate decency and humanity carried over into his professional life . Al actually made the attorney / client relationship into what it was supposed to be : a trusted and productive working relationship .
That late Friday afternoon , I finished my weekly briefing and was packing my notes to leave . Not paying particular attention , I vaguely picked up a distinctive verse recited in a low , guttural German accent .
12 THE GAVEL