A frequent criticism of the cases we use to teach business ethics is that they are irrelevant to the average business person. For example, the well documented insider trading cases involve big-money executives. Most business people will never be in their place.

We try to overcome this disadvantage by using our own "what if" situations. Though hypothetical cases can be constructed to resemble situations business people are likely to confront, these cases tend to be too schematic, too obviously fictional, for students to take seriously. I often wondered why there are so few cases of the right sort. Now I know.

Last year I happened upon a real life ethics case. Four people, two who remain today with the company involved and two who do not, told me how they (and others) handled the unethical demands of the general manager of their regional office. This, I thought, was just the sort of ethics case I was looking for.

It was not. What I had found was not so much a first-class ethics case as an introduction to the substantial disincentives, both legal and extralegal, that exist for anyone who wants to prepare a real-life ethics case.

As a lawyer, the author of articles on free speech, I was, of course, aware that great caution would be needed to avoid a defamation suit. Caution dictated that names, places and identifying details be excluded from the case. The facts would have to be checked and double-checked.

I selected testimonials as the case format. A first-person report seemed more likely to engage the reader than a god's-eye, third-person description. I then embarked upon securing the appropriate testimonials.

At once, two of the four participants got cold feet. One feared job dismissal. The participant's spouse had recently become unemployed. The couple did not want to put already tight personal finances at risk. The other participant with cold feet anticipated a legal action involving the company.

When word got around the company that I was working on an ethics article, I received as many as a dozen phone calls a day from persons willing to "snitch" but unwilling to go any farther. All my informants wanted their reports to be kept confidential. Many also wanted me to assure them that I was not keeping a written record of what they said. I gave that assurance to keep the information coming.

In the end, only two people gave testimonials. One of these had unflinchingly taken the ethical high ground and had taken his lumps for doing so. His testimonial was simply too "goodie two shoes" to be a case study by itself. It would not be useful without a foil, that is, one or more other testimonials reporting alternative courses of action.

In its original form, the other testimonial provided a perfect foil. But it did not keep that form for long.

I supplied the prepublication draft to an officer of the company for review. I also advised the person who offered the testimonial that he should have his own lawyer review it.

Within a couple of days, the officer who had received the prepublication draft reported to me that the company's chairman might request that I withdraw the testimonial. Executives within the company had somehow fastened onto the idea that the prepublication draft was final.

Soon afterward, the chairman called meat home. His voice revealed deep concern. I sensed that he expected a fight. He was caught a little off-guard by my expressions of cooperativeness. It took some time, however, to convince him that the testimonials were not an exercise in investigative reporting but rather an effort to do an ethics case study. He did not understand that I had submitted the testimonials to his company to solicit company reaction, just in case my judgment on exclusion of identifying details was faulty. Before ending the conversation, he indicated that his legal department would have to be involved.

During the next few days, after a few rounds of phone calls, fax transmittals and revisions, all of the company's suggested changes were accommodated except one minor optional revision (changing the word "creeps" in the title to "creep"). For each revision modifying the testimonial, I had to secure agreement from the participant offering it. The testimonial lost a little life with each revision, but it survived.

Another showdown still lay ahead of me-with the former general manager. The legal safeguards against a possible defamation action were already in place. Each major fact could be supported by more than one source. The truth is an absolute defense in a defamation suit. But such safeguards are not enough. As one reviewing attorney commented, "you can go broke asserting your defense." A sad feature of defamation defenses is that one can win the suit (if it goes to trial) and still spend lots of money on legal fees.

To publish the testimonial safely, I would have to be sure that bringing a defamation action would be against the former general manager's own interests. I had to be able to look him in the eye and say-Clint Eastwood style-"Make my day."

The first point in my favor was that if the former general manager brought suit, he would publicly identify himself as the creep in "A Case of the Creeps."

Second, some of his business connections would necessarily be drawn into the suit as defense witnesses. Depositions, court appearances, and the like involving his business connections would certainly cast doubt upon his integrity. The doubts would be spread among those he would least want to doubt his ethics.

Third, by bringing suit he would open up evidence otherwise closed to me. For example, he kept copious business notes in hardbound diaries. These spanned his tenure at several organizations. Since many people in the company had seen them, he could not destroy them without also providing a basis for impeaching his testimony. Modification of the hardbound diaries could probably be detected by even a novice in scientific evidence.

The fourth point in my favor was that the former manager would have a difficult time securing a reputable lawyer-unless he lied. The code of professional responsibility for lawyers prohibits the filing of frivolous suits. A lawyer who knowingly forwards a false claim risks court sanction and loss of license. If the manager deceived his own lawyer, he would not only risk having the lawyer resign, he would also risk eventually facing a charge of criminal perjury.

Fifth, legal action would probably cost the former general manager dearly. It is doubtful that he could secure a contingency fee arrangement lasting longer than the early stages of legal discovery. No sensible lawyer would absorb the cost of expensive litigation clearly destined to fail.

Finally, if the former manager filed a defamation suit, he would face the possibility of countersuit-for tortious abuse of process, a legal action which, if won, would impose not only actual damages but also punitive damages.

The showdown occurred the week after I had submitted "A Case of the Creeps" to Perspectives. The manager called and asked if I had prepared an article concerning him. I answered yes. I also informed him that I had done my best to conceal identities. He requested a prepublication copy of the article. I refused. He asked the name of the publication. I refused to tell him. He asked that I offer him a chance to tell his side. I replied that his side was unnecessary because the article was about how people reacted to his demands-not about the rationale behind his demands.

So, if he decided to initiate a legal action before publication, he would have to come after me. I had not identified any other person or institution as having cooperated on the article. I then waited to see what would happen.

Nothing happened. Yet, even now, the risk of a law suit is still there. No wonder there are so few good ethics cases based on primary sources. I doubt that I'll ever try to assemble such a case study again.