The Law Firm from Hell: An Ongoing Series āļøš„ This post is part of a series documenting my personal experience with Adam Mann, Esq. and Cohen and Cohen Law. This is not just a review; it is a step-by-step breakdown of how a ātopā Hollywood, FL firm fumbled my case and then tried to erase the audit trail. New chapters are added as the evidence is unboxed.
It started out like any other early-morning crisis: my attorney, Adam Mann, hadnāt called me after I had a spinal procedure, as promised. I sent a simple, polite text at 7:15am the following morning, just asking him to call me at 8am. What happened next is the stuff of attorney-client nightmares.
Instead of Adam, I got a reply from an unexpected guest star:
āGood morning. This is Adamās wife. He does not have this phone right now, but I will make sure he gets this message and gets back to you asap. He had a family emergency.ā
This is the legal equivalent of your Ouija board suddenly spelling out your dead relativeās name. The sanctity of my attorney-client privilege just went full Paranormal Activity. š«£
Trying to be the reasonable one in a midnight ghost story, I asked if Kimberly the Wife could confirm my confidential legal messages would stay private. You know, a basic āplease donāt let the ghosts in the attic read my mailā request.
Her answer?
āIt absolutely is. I do not read his messages and nobody else does either.ā
Except, of course, for her. While sheās literally replying to my message. In real time. In my confidential legal text thread. From my attorneyās work phone. Because of a family emergency. Which still doesnāt explain why she was in his phone. Or why she wasnāt with him during the family emergency. But that was her story.
When attorney-client privilege meets the Twilight Zone. āDonāt worry, I never read his messages, except for this one, and the next one, andā¦ā š And yes I screenshot this for historical purposes. š
And just when I thought the haunting was over, she kept texting. She revealed too much information and explained why she was in my messages (the family emergency, again), and launched into a defense that soundedā¦ weirdly familiar. š¤
Honestly, if I closed my eyes, Iād swear half her replies were written by Adam himself: same cadence, a little too quick and too polished for a suburban wife. Maybe she was āpossessedā by his need to control the narrative. Or maybe Adam just left her a script. Who knows?
The Real Horror:
Attorney-client privilege is supposed to be a locked vault. But at Cohen and Cohen Law, itās more like a group Airbnb with a revolving door, and Adam Mannās wife is your surprise roommate. One minute youāre getting legal advice, the next youāre being ccād on family drama. š§āš§āš§
In that moment, my āsecureā attorney-client text thread turned into a group chat with a stranger who happens to share Adamās Netflix password and wedding vows. Suddenly, my privileged legal advice was just one family crisis away from being water cooler gossip.
Pro Tip:
If your attorneyās spouse texts you, and then keeps texting, youāre not the main character in a legal drama. Youāre the final girl in a horror movie, and the killer has your phone number.