Last Dance, Last Chance

mother, his wife, and his children continued to support him emotionally during the long spring of1998. He bemoaned the fact that the entire medical profession had not rallied around him, although he presented his attorneys with numerous letters from physicians who praised him while denouncing the State Board of Health and the District Attorney’s office for hounding him.
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    There were, however, many doctors who either kept quiet or offered to testify against Anthony. Anesthesiologists in particular were outraged that Sarah Smith had died needlessly.
    At one point, Anthony even became suspicious of his attorneys. They were urging him to consider a plea bargain. They tried to impress upon him that if he insisted on going ahead to trial, he could serve far more prison time than he might get if he pleaded guilty. Dan Smith was a most sympathetic accuser, despite his terrible loss. He had said he didn’t want Anthony to be away from his family for years and years.
    Sharon Simon was a victims’ advocate who worked in the Erie County District Attorney’s office. A warm-hearted smoky blond with startling green eyes, Sharon spent most of her days—and nights—helping victims and their families deal with the shock of loss. She virtually held their hands as she led them through the tortuous maze of the justice system, even though her heart ached for them and her dreams were haunted by the tragedies of strangers.
    On the other hand, she had an infectious giggle when something struck her funny—which it often did, despite her job. Her best qualification for her career was that she was empathetic and human and had never become jaded by the horrors she saw every day.
    She tried to prepare Dan Smith and Sarah’s family for the ordeal of a trial. The Pignataro hearings and the trial that was surely imminent was a cause celebre for the media in Buffalo, and television cameras followed the participants on both sides as they entered and exited the courtroom. The Smiths and the Graftons were still reeling from Sarah’s death; she had been gone only a short time.
    Debbie Pignataro was not a victim—not in the eyes of the law. Anthony’s family and his lawyers reminded her continually that it was essential for her to stand by her man. If she had her moments of doubt about his lack of concern for the young woman who died on his operating table, she didn’t allow herself to dwell on it. Her mother-in-law, who had been her friend and supporter for many years, was always at her side, steering her to the courtroom’s front-row seats, which Lena had claimed as their own. Anthony beamed at her and clasped her hand; he was far more attentive than he had been in years. Sitting in the front row, bolstered by other people who still believed wholeheartedly in Anthony’s innocence, Debbie felt a surge of hope.
    Dan Smith and his father always sat in the last row of the courtroom. To Dan, it seemed that both Anthony Pignataro’s mother and his wife glared at him during the legal proceedings. He tried to understand that they were afraid and that they must love their son and husband. Dan was a very kind young man, and he put himself in Anthony’s place, unaware that empathy for other people was an emotion completely alien to the doctor who had killed his wife.
    As the courtroom emptied after each session, Sharon Simon put her hand gently on Dan’s arm, signaling to him and his father to wait. Predictably, the reporters and cameras followed Anthony and Debbie. Anthony handled their questions deftly, but Debbie was overwhelmed. Lena Pignataro reminded her to hold her head up, to stand loyally beside her husband.
     
    The time for trial approached rapidly. At the last minute, Anthony listened to reason. He could not visualize himself spending years in prison—something that could very well happen if he were convicted in a trial. Even though he found it outrageous that a physician should be accused criminally just because he had the “bad luck” to lose a patient, his lawyers hammered at him. They couldn’t be responsible for what might happen if his accusers propelled him to trial, or if he should take the stand—something they were convinced he would do.
    As much as he longed to seize the witness chair and use it as a soap box to denounce those whose small minds couldn’t grasp his talent and potential, Anthony agreed to do as his attorneys advised.
    On June 8, 1998, he pleaded guilty to criminally negligent homicide before