Mistress of Justice

Under questioning from the plaintiff’s counsel, he began his testimony.
    Taylor Lockwood worked primarily for corporate lawyers at Hubbard, White & Willis but she knew the basics of personal injury law. This man’s testimony was clearly devastating to St. Agnes.
    Dr. William Morse’s credentials were impeccable and, unlike many expert witnesses, who testify based only on what they’ve read in reports long after the accident, he was actually present at the hospital when the alleged malpractice occurred. The jury members took in his comments and looked at each other with lifted eyebrows, obviously impressed with the man’s demeanor and by what he was saying.
    “Let’s reiterate what happened here,” the plaintiff’s lawyersaid. “In March of last year a doctor at St. Agnes treated a patient—Mr. Marlow there in the wheelchair, the plaintiff in this case—who was suffering from arthritis and adrenal insufficiency with seventy milligrams of cortisone acetate in conjunction with one hundred milligrams of indomethacin.”
    “That’s correct,” Morse said.
    “Did you observe him do this?”
    “I saw the injection and then looked at the chart afterward and told him immediately the mistake he’d make.”
    “And why was that a mistake?”
    “Mr. Marlow had a preexisting ulcerous condition. Everyone knows that such a patient should absolutely not be treated with the drugs he was administered.”
    “I’d object, sir,” Reece said politely. “The witness can’t speak for, quote, everyone.”
    Dr. Morse corrected, “The medical literature is quite clear that such a patient should not be treated with those particular drugs.”
    The plaintiff’s lawyer continued, “What was this doctor’s reaction when you told him that?”
    “He said that I was not on the staff, I was a visiting physician and, in effect, I should mind my own business.”
    “Objection,” Reece called again. “Hearsay.”
    The plaintiff’s lawyer said, “I’ll rephrase. Sir, after you called attention to what you perceived as a dangerous condition, did anyone take any steps to correct it?”
    “No.”
    “What happened then?”
    “I told a nurse to monitor the patient carefully and that I thought he might have serious adverse reactions. Then I went to see the chief of staff.”
    “That would be Harold Simpson?”
    “Yessir.”
    “And what was his reaction?”
    “Dr. Simpson was not available. I was told he was playing golf.”
    “Objection. Hearsay.”
    “He was not available,” the witness corrected.
    “What happened then?”
    “I returned to Mr. Marlow’s ward to see how he was doing but he was unconscious, comatose. The nurse I’d left to monitor his condition was gone. We stabilized his condition. But he remained comatose.”
    “Would it have been possible, when you called attention to the drugs that had been improperly prescribed, to administer an antidote—”
    “Objection,” Reece called. “He’s suggesting that we poisoned the plaintiff.”
    “You
did,”
Dr. Morse snapped.
    “Your honor?” Reece asked.
    “A more neutral term, counselor,” the judge said to the plaintiff’s lawyer.
    “Yessir. Dr. Morse, would it have been possible to administer other drugs to counteract the damaging effects of the drugs that the St. Agnes staff doctor administered?”
    “Absolutely. But it would have to be done immediately.”
    “And what happened then?”
    “That was my last day at the hospital. I returned to California the next day and as soon as I arrived I called the hospital to check on the status of the patient. I was told that he’d come out of the coma but had suffered irreparable brain damage. I left messages for the chief of staff, the head of the procedures committee and the head of the department of internal medicine. No one ever called me back.”
    “No further questions.”
    A murmur from the peanut gallery at the deadly testimony. Taylor concurred with the apparent reaction. She thought, Okay, we just lost the case.
    The judge rocked back in his chair and said, “Mr. Reece, cross-examination?”
    Mitchell Reece stood and—in smooth motions—buttoned his jacket, straightened his paisley tie.
    “Thank you, your honor. First of all”—he turned to the jury—“I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Mitch Reece. I work for Hubbard, White & Willis, along with my friend and colleague, Fred LaDue, who I think you know. And he’s beengracious enough to let me visit with you for a few hours