The issues were simple and generally uncontested, but O’Connell’s lawyer seemed to be in no hurry. He reworded drafts, insisted on meetings to review the new language, then forwarded pages to Padraig in Ireland. Padraig, pleading that he barely had enough time to finish the movie, much less read “legal mumbo jumbo,” took days to respond. And then his response was generally a request for additional clarifications. “What in God’s name is the problem?” Jennifer finally demanded. “An imbecile could understand it. I keep what I brought to the marriage and he keeps what he brought. Neither of us has any future claim on the other.” “He’s distracted,” O’Connell’s lawyer offered. He proposed waiting until the movie was completed. Then they would have Padraig at the table, and any remaining issues could be hammered out to everyone’s satisfaction. “He’s shaking you down,” her attorney responded, suggesting that O’Connell was dangling the divorce in case he needed Jennifer’s vote for more money from Pegasus.
