In 2005, I was finishing up a term as a clerk for the Missouri Court of Appeals. I needed not only a job but a mentor. I learned an older attorney with an established practice was looking for someone to take over his business. He specialized in probate and estate planning, something I knew little about. But I was throwing out a wide net so I faxed in a resume.
Then I got a phone call.
“This is Rolland Comstock,” the smoke-engraved voice said on the other line. “I see you went to law school in Lawrence, Kansas.”
“That’s right.” I braced myself for the usual abuse I took for going to the historic rival of our state’s flagship institution.
“Tell me, who is the most famous author from there.”
Was this guy for real, I thought. But these kind of weird trivia questions were sort of my thing.
“Well, there’s Langston Hughes but he’s a poet. So I am going to say William Burroughs.” (The legendary beat author moved to the college town in his old age and the place became a Mecca for people like Kurt Cobain and Michael Stipe to visit and pay homage.)
I heard an exhalation of nicotine from the other end. “Yes, yes. That’s very good.”
Thus, started my relationship with Comstock. I learned, quickly, he wasn’t just any lawyer. He was also a renowned book collector who had been featured in “The Washington Post” and “The London Times” for his obsessive efforts. He had built a three-story library onto his home with chandeliers and rolling ladders. Dead authors at the top; living on the first level. He lived with a pack of hybrid wolves who trailed my every move and bit at my fingers.
While I loved the idea of working for him – we would talk about art-house movies rather than cases– the experience was dysfunctional. He was going through a divorce and the dispute over their house consumed his life. Rolland never came to the office so I never received any guidance. Plus, his money went to fueling the lawsuits with his ex-wife with little left to pay employees.
I lasted barely over a year. Rolland was murdered a few months later after I left.
My new firm took over his practice and I ended up getting to know his daughter, Faith. She hired our firm to represent her when she sued her mother in civil court for Rolland’s death. While no criminal charges ever got filed, a jury ended up saying his former wife of 38 years pulled the trigger that killed him.
I would tell the story of this eccentric lawyer and people would say it sounded too crazy to be true. That someone should write a book not only about the murder but about Rolland’s unusual life.
Yes, I would think. Someone should write a book about this.
The book is out now and published by Post Hill Press.
Cull & Co. Literary Agency Ltd 