I am now represented by Siccio.

That J. Preston Norwood character turned out to be a hack ambulance chaser who ought to spend a little more time practicing law and a little less time filling the airwaves with his warbly local cable TV ads. That asshole: I stand to make millions from this god-damned assault and he has the gall to say to me, in the most blasé of voices, that he "...really [doesn't] specialize in people who get beat up at barber shops." I got the point pretty quick that if I wasn't his carbon-copy, insurance-fraud-in-a-neck-brace, he didn't want anything to do with me, so I hung up right in his corny god-damned face. I'll be launching an investigation into his cases later, on my own, in order to bring down his greasy practice.

Long story short, I am now represented by Siccio, who seems like he has carry-through. I had actually preferred him from the beginning, despite the language barrier, because he exudes a swarthy, stoic confidence, and juries are subject to that just like the rest of us. If Siccio says I am innocent, then I dare the average jurybox-filling nitwit to tell him otherwise. If Siccio says that the barberess and her salon have to give me 1.6 million dollars, and he slaps his right fist into his left palm, I am going to get 1.6 million dollars. If I don't, Siccio says, "all the barbershop and the barber lady they have for sure a accident."