History

Bert Villars was born to poverty and a broken family. He rarely goes into more detail than that: it’s the same story his typical clients have heard a thousand times before, if not lived themselves.

The important thing, he likes to say, is that he made enough of himself to attend college and get into LSU Law. Working as a bug exterminator paid tuition but cost his sight, leaving him near-blind (“the important thing is legally blind") as a result of his exposure to toxic chemicals. Some of his current clients claim the sly, black-spectacled attorney can see better than he lets on, but Villars just smirks and denies it when asked.

After graduating, Villars moved to New Orleans and made a good, if notorious, living chasing ambulances. In fact, he became known as Twilight Zone Villars because of his eerie expertise at showing up in emergency wards and intensive care units and convincing half-comatose accident victims to sign settlement agreements and liability waivers that often left them destitute.

In more recent years, Esq. Villars has increased his infamy (and bank account) by serving as the attorney for seemingly half of the Big Easy’s pimps and crack kings. Although his credentials aren’t the best, and his office space is far from impressive, few of Villars’ clients deny that he is “one smart motherfucker.” His list of dirty tricks is at least as long as their rap sheets, and it’s rare indeed that he doesn’t manage to wrangle some kind of deal for them. It’s even rarer that his clients are innocent, a fact which has made him possibly the most hated lawyer in the city by cops and ADAs.

GM: “There’s this one scumbag, Bert Villars, who I swear every pimp and crack king in the city has for a lawyer. I’d love to punch him. He’s blind too, an’ since you can’t punch blind people, that just makes me want to punch him more.”

Emil: “If he works with those kinds of folks, he probably has a lot of dirt on him. What’s stopping you from slapping him with the book?” Emil asks, wondering whether Lucky intends to answer his question about helping with the investigation but holding his tongue just a moment.

GM: “If we could, those kinds of folks wouldn’t work with him. Lawyers are real good at not doing illegal shit themselves. They’re the experts at it, right?”

Emil: “I’ll bet if you could look at him real close, with a strong enough magnifying glass, you’d see dirt. How couldn’t you? God made man out of the stuff to begin with! And if it ain’t on his skin, it’s gotta be hiding just under it, like some nasty pimple waiting for the worst time to crawl out and see the sun.”

GM: “Oh, I’m sure he’s got at least some dirt, if we looked close ‘nough. There just ain’t a lotta ways we can do that. Legally, anyway. I’ve seen DAs drop the ball on good cases ‘cuz they or we didn’t dot our i’s an’ cross our t’s. Hell, I seen him prove it more than once to cut his clients a sweeter deal. Throw out evidence as inadmissible.”

Lucky’s cheer seems to slowly fade. “Just how things are. Your old man once said bein’ a cop ain’t changin’ the world. It’s keepin’ things as they are.”

Villars, for his part, could care less. In his own words to his clients, “I’ll defend you if you’re Hitler, so long as your money’s good.”

Influence

Allies

Villars likes to say he never does anything illegal himself, but he knows a lot of people who do. Twilight Zone Villars knows criminals from every walk of (criminal) life, ranging from hitmen to drug dealers to burglars to countless others. He’s also acquainted more than a few corrupt officials in various positions who are open to abusing their authority for bribes. Some of Villars’ clients rely on him to put them in touch with other criminals as much as they do for legal advice and representation: he’s their “guy who knows a guy.”

Status

Villars runs a solo law practice with an office in Mid-City. He employs a legal secretary, Paloma Osuna, and a variety of “helpers” from “disadvantaged backgrounds” on an as-needed basis. They’re essentially hucksters and thugs. (Legal Status ••)