In a Century City lawyering environment where a spikes-up, chin-music-dealing style comes with the territory, Terry Christensen has often been cited as a leading practitioner of "hardball" tactics. Part of his dossier was service in the JAG with the Marine Corps--not the trigger-pulling (and if we are to believe our eyes, as opposed to what most of us have admired about the Corps, puppy-throwing) side, but the jurisprudential guys who are meant to be able to handle the truth.

With his recent not guilty plea to federal charges he employed Anthony Pellicano to paying Pellicano to wiretap the ex-wife of billionaire Kirk Kerkorian--and a judge's decision that he will be tried along with Pellicano separately from the more lurid trial currently unfolding in downtown Los Angles----Christensen entered what is obviously the crucial moment in his career.

A son of Los Angles who graduated from Stanford in 1962 and began his climb to be among what Tinseltown inevitably calls Super Lawyers after USC law school and his military stretch, he worked alongside current name partner (and defense counsel) Patricia Glaser at Wyman, Bautzer, and ultimately founded their current firm in 1988. That move was not without some bitterness wit now-defunct Wyman, Bautzer, who lost Kerkorian along with other clients in the maneuver.

Before that maneuver, Christensen, he had spent about a year as President of Kirk Kerkorian's wholly owned company, Tracinda Corporation. Though he's sometimes misleading dubbed an "entertainment lawyer", in addition to the company's interest in MGM/UA Communications, he was present for the formation of MGM Grand Air and MGM Grand, Inc.

In addition to such transactional duties, Christensen Glaser specializes in high-end, save-your-butt litigation. Christensen's biggest win, his law firm bio points out, came after:

The Insurance Commissioner for the State of Virginia had sued the officers and directors of Fidelity Bankers Life Insurance Company for over $300 million in Federal Court in Richmond, Virginia, alleging, among other charges, that the defendants had improperly invested the company's portfolio in High-Yield Bond.

(Read: when the junk bonds went under, the customers started a run to cash in their policies and the commissioner stepped in, but ultimately the plutocrats won.) Their work has varied from ample pro bono cases to reducing by several million a judgment against rap impresario Marion "Suge" Knight.

The bio also lists boards on which Christensen "has served"--a judicious turn of phrase as, in February, as the time approached for his plea (not guilty) before Judge Dale S. Fischer, he resigned, pending the resolution of the case, his memberships on the boards of MGM Mirage and Fidelity National.

The former was poignant because it was his history with MGM, Tracinda and of course Kerkorian that ushered in his present predicament. Christensen is a long-time--three decades' worth-- ally of the 90-year old billionaire (at around $16 billion, he's number 41 on the 2008 Forbes chart of the world's richest) had long helped Kerkorian, and the Mirage operation was in large part his fiefdom. At 67, the leading name partner in perhaps the most butt-kicking law firm in the West if not the nation, he might have been above any fray but one involving the star client. As concisely summarized by the Los Angeles Times' Greg Krikorian (who's taken the Sam Zell-induced buyout and will be missed on the beat):

According to the indictment, the wiretapping of Lisa Kerkorian began March 15, 2002, when an attorney called Pellicano and told him to contact Christensen about "going after" the wife's attorney in the child-custody dispute. During snippets of alleged conversations included in the indictment, Pellicano alluded to eavesdropping on conversations between Lisa Kerkorian and her attorneys that could help Christensen with a court hearing. Pellicano also told Christensen to "be careful" about the information he was receiving from the private eye because "there is only one way for me to know this," the indictment said. From the outset, however, Christensen insisted that he had never participated in wiretapping and turned to Pellicano only to investigate death threats and extortion attempts against Kirk Kerkorian and his young daughter.

[Christensen] allegedly paid Hollywood private investigator Anthony Pellicano at least $100,000 to tap the phones of Lisa Bonder Kerkorian, a former tennis pro who was married to the mogul for only a month in 1999. According to court records, Christensen once told Kerkorian's former wife that his client would "bury" her financially if she continued with a child support lawsuit.

"We are tough and we can be, I guess, ruthless," he told a Los Angeles Times reporter in 1994. "But it's always within the bounds of honesty, and I think that's why courts respect us."

As The Independent reported on the odder aspects of the legal tiff:

The Kerkorian divorce was a sordid, headline-grab-bing affair, because Mrs. Kerkorian wanted a stunning, potentially record- breaking $320,000 per month in support payments so she and her daughter could maintain their lifestyle. Mr. Kerkorian, meanwhile, accused his wife of conceiving the child with another man and ultimately proved his claim through DNA testing. In the meantime, Mr. Kerkorian was sued by Steve Bing a property magnate and former boyfriend of the actress Elizabeth Hurley, who accused him of going through his trash in search of dental floss - presumably so Mr. Kerkorian's staff could conduct a DNA test on him to see if he was the father. Mr. Bing and Mr. Kerkorian eventually came to terms without commenting on who the father really was.

Among the names on the government witness list is Dennis Wasser, the attorney who's helped Tom Cruise and Steven Spielberg, along with Kerkorian, disentangle from marriages. He's not charged with anything, but has beemn the subject of mutterings from the Christensen camp that they were traduced into this mess while merely trying to protect their client's family.

It's not a great year for lawyers in Hollywood, not with Tony Gilroy's tale of a jeopardized legal fixer, Michael Clayton, at one bidding to be an Oscar contender. As different as the sagas are--Gilroy's movie involved a deadly weed killer manufacturer, a senior partner gone off the reservation, and a disadvantaged legal operative wondering if "The truth can be adjusted"--one can imagine the pressure building inside the law firm.

As Sydney Pollack's Marty tells George Clooney's title character on page 104 of the script:

We don't straighten this settlement out in the next twenty-four hours, they're gonna withhold nine million dollars in fees they owe us. Then they're gonna pull out the video of Arthur's flashdance in Milwaukee and sue us for legal malpractice, except, there won't be anything to win because at that point the merger with London will be off and we'll be selling off the furniture.

Christensen could hardly do better than partner Glaser, 59, who's won big litigations repeatedly with a combination of diplomacy and steeliness. She's also won two key early battles--first, to be allowed to represent her partner--scotching any interrogation that might be directed towards her regarding internal councils on the Kerkorian matter--and then having the trial severed from the messier current one. Working in concert wit her, another attorney, Terree Bowers, had filed motions to suppress evidence in the case, arguing the government's investigation was too broad and il-conducted and had swept Christensen up as a result of that. The motions were shot down by Judge Fischer.

The firm's public relations consultant Michael Sitrick reports that the firm just enjoyed its best year ever, and Christensen--though his specific clients went unnamed-along with it. (Among the firm's prestige clients are both the city and county of Los Angeles, the Walt Disney Company, City National bank and Paramount).

She's s demurred from discussions citing her as Christensen's natural heir to power, but has said regarding he criminal case that "the firm will be fine, no matter what happens."

She may very well be right. But that doesn't mean the stakes when Christiansen's trial, which is to commence after the current one concludes an estimated ten-week run, are anything but high.

(Attorneys for Kirk Kerkorian, Terry Christensen (at microphone), and Dennis M. Wasser (R), speak to the press after winning the child support payment dispute case against Kerkorian's former wife, Lisa Bonder Kerkorian, at the Los Angeles Superior Court on September 13, 2002; photo Frazer Harrison/Getty Images)