WINNING THROUGH INTIMIDATION: THE BIGGEST GUNS IN CUSTODY

A CUSTODY LAWYER is like the wolf in Grandma’s nightdress. He looks real kind, and he talks real nice. But when you get close, he bares his teeth. All the better to win, my dear.

There are plenty of good divorce lawyers around, but you can count on your fingers the cream of the custody crop. Some of the top divorce specialists-Louise Raggio, Joe Geary, Ken Fuller, Bill Koons- don’t do custody anymore. It takes a special breed to do battle in the heat of all that emotion.

Lawyers who like custody law like it because it deals with “issues that really matter.” A good custody lawyer knows that to face a jury unprepared is to admit certain defeat. He knows that a jury must be entertained as well as informed. The courtroom competition in custody is intense. There are no gray areas-you either win white or you lose black.

The top custody attorneys have contrasting styles but similar MOs: Flesh out a plan, work like hell, flinch at nothing and go for the gold. These are four of the best.



Mike McCurley: The Gladiator

In the back seat of Mike McCurley’s burgundy BMW, a 12-gauge shotgun is propped against the hump in the middle of the floor. It comes in handy sometimes-such as the rainy night when someone fired three shots at him on Stemmons Freeway. You might say that McCurley’s the kind of guy who can make people mad.

Subtlety isn’t his strongest suit. He’s a fierce competitor and a team player, but one who’s not afraid to thumb his nose at the ref. McCurley chiseled himself a spot in history in 1974, when he argued that Mary Jo Risher, an avowed lesbian, should not be allowed to keep her small son. Since then, he has fought for gay clients-and won.

It doesn’t take long for McCurley to warm to the subject of winning custody suits. He lives and breathes them. His wife, Mary Jo, is a custody lawyer; his daughter, Melissa, 10, plans to be. At top-seeded Koons, Rasor, Fuller & McCurley, he takes all the custody cases that come in the door. “And you know, I think he likes trying them,” says a competitor who also calls himself a friend. “I guess that means he’s just downright evil.”



Don Smith: The Country Preacher

When he props his big black cowboy boots on the desk, you know that Don Smith is beginning to relax. The nervous twitch that has occasionally creased his ruddy face appears less frequently. He smiles. “With divorce, there’s a lot of negotiation. With custody, there’s only one thing-to win. Anything short of that is loss.”

Don Smith is known as one of the most creative attorneys in family law. His specialty in divorce is “tracing”-separating separate property from community property. When it comes to custody, Smith is a master at orchestrating a clever theme and then knocking the socks off the jury with the stuff that will prove it. He brings to a trial hundreds of documents-letters, photographs, poems, birthday cards, drawings-any visible evidence of love. His presentations are peppered with flashes of country-boy wit. Says one colleague, “Smith comes across as a Bible-thumping, back-roads Baptist preacher. Of course, it’s all an act.” Perhaps, but it’s a polished one, and one that usually takes the prize. “I lost a case once, and I’ll never forget it,” he says, shaking his head. “No, I’ll never forget that one.”



Charles H. Robertson: The Brain

Charles Robertson isn’t a father, but he ought to be. In 15 years of fighting for dads vs. moms-or vice versa-he has amassed a considerable arsenal of parenting skills He’s organized. He’s methodical. He begins by giving clients a lengthy, legalese “Message for Fathers,” a tome that lays out the state of custody law as it stands. The purpose of the document, he says, is “to discourage people who aren’t really serious.”

Those who are work hard to master the world according to Charles Robertson by learning everything from parent effectiveness training to body language. He claims he’s never lost a custody case. “The best way to test a client’s resolve,” Robertson says, “is financially. But if a guy can show me he’s a good credit risk, I’ll consider the case.”

Compared to his peers, Robertson’s reputation is that of a champion of underdogs- the battered victim, the spurned and spat-upon spouse. He believes in his clients with a passion, and his courtroom arguments on their behalf are among the most eloquent. Occasionally, say Robertson’s competitors, his ego obscures his ability to communicate with the jury. “Charles can be abrasive in the courtroom,” says one lawyer, “but there’s no denying that he’s a marvelous lawyer. His knowledge of family law is virtually unsurpassed.”



Ike Vanden Eykel: The Whipper-snapper

There’s a plaque on the wall of Ike Vanden Eykel’s office in Galleria Tower that reads, “Gunfighters don’t charge by the bullet.” The author is Joe Geary, an admired old hand at family law. The message: If you have to ask what it costs, you probably can’t afford it.

Ike Vanden Eykel is scarcely one row away from the top tier in custody law. He’s an All-American-guy-on-the-way-up type who is well-respected and well-liked. “A comer,” according to one who’s more experienced, “and a damned good one.”

Vanden Eykel has been trying custody cases (along with other less rancorous civil suits) for eight years-ever since he won for a father the custody of his client’s two little girls. The string of dads who followed suit earned Ike a reputation as the father’s-ad-vocate attorney, a renown he accepts with one proviso: “A lawyer who tries cases for just dads or just moms will never be first-rate. Occasionally, I like to represent a mother -just so I can see how the other side thinks.”