A Life That Matters (12 page)

“Even when we were together on weekends or during the week, as much as we were trying to make things feel normal, ultimately all we could talk about was the case. Even during Christmas, even when we
tried
to talk about things, it always came back to the case. It obsessed our lives.”

CHAPTER 10

Appeals

Bobby spoke to a friend of his who had worked with the appellate court for several years. He knew Judges Parker, Blue, and Altenbernd—particularly Altenbernd. The news wasn’t good: Altenbernd was a liberal judge. He didn’t think we had a chance.

“I was very concerned,” Bobby says. “I conveyed what he had told me to my father, and we were all terribly worried. I felt we were blessed with Joseph Magri. When we first went to see him, his paralegals told us he had never lost a case. Besides, I thought his appellate brief was very strong, and so did friends of mine with lots more knowledge than I had.”

I thought Magri made a brilliant case for us. But would a strong brief be enough? Bobby hadn’t told me what he’d heard about Judge Altenbernd. He knew it would have made me nearly desperate with anxiety.

The oral hearing, it seemed to me, was our last chance. If the three judges turned down our appeal, Terri would die. It was this thought that made it so difficult for me to see her. Every time I entered her room, she would react. If I told her a joke or sang her a song, she would respond with a smile or a laugh. It was obvious to me—to all of us—that the noises she made, the movements toward us, her palpable joy in seeing us, were not involuntary reactions. And yet here were three men who had never seen her, never held her, never interacted with her, who would decide on our word or Michael’s
depending on the quality of our testimony
.

Remember: Terri had been neglected since 1991—that’s ten years! There was nothing in her files that indicated she was receiving proper therapy or rehabilitation.

Now, if you put a healthy person in bed for ten years and isolate them, they’re going to deteriorate. Terri, in fact, was doing better than we might have expected. Warehoused, stimulated only when we were there, shown love or interest only from us, with us she was almost as reactive as she’d always been. I knew it was strength. I thought of it as courage. And I loved her all the more.

The appellate court’s job was simply to rule on whether Judge Greer had followed the law. Magri could bring up some of the mistakes Greer had made, argue that he had followed the wrong law or depended on the wrong testimony—indeed, these he had covered in his brief. But the judges were only there to say, yes, he had followed the law, or no, he had not.

The format of the hearings was that each lawyer had fifteen minutes to testify, but the judges could interrupt at any time. The courtroom was small. I was struck by the fact that our side of the room was filled with about fifty supporters, while Michael’s had only a few, including his father.

I felt good about the hearing. I was confident in Magri and excited that a person of his stature would go into that room to fight for us. But once the hearing started, I was the only optimistic member of my family.

Here’s Bobby’s take:

“I went to the appellate hearing, and my worst fears about Judge Altenbernd came true, because almost from the minute it started, he was all over Mr. Magri. His demeanor and his questions showed me where he stood on the issues, and I felt that Mr. Magri was on the defensive from the beginning, that he didn’t have a chance to make his case. Altenbernd and I share the same gym in Tampa, and weeks later I saw him in the locker room, and I thought,
This scrawny little guy just decided my sister’s fate
.”

Suzanne felt the same way Bobby did. “I was nervous to begin with,” she says. “But once I started hearing Judge Altenbernd talk and the way he was treating Joe Magri and just the questions he was asking, I thought he was very negative. I felt then that the whole oral argument was negative. I mean, it was not a positive experience at all, and I couldn’t say a word. None of us could. Altenbernd was really ruling the hearing. He hardly asked Felos any questions, and he made Magri defend himself with dozens of them.”

And here’s Bob:

“If I hadn’t heard about Altenbernd from Bobby, I’d have thought we’d have a slam dunk, a no-brainer. Hearing about him, I was a little bit concerned, but not as concerned as I should have been. When I went into the actual hearing and I saw the way Altenbernd handled it, I thought,
This is done. It’s over
. I knew immediately we were going to lose.”

By the end of the hearing, I shared their mood. When we asked him for his impressions after the hearing ended, Magri, though still saying he was confident, admitted we had a problem.

Our last chance, it seemed, had failed.

On January 24, 2001, the Second District Court of Appeals ruled in favor of removing Terri’s feeding tube. It felt as though the judges had taken up my battered heart and squeezed the life out of it.

The thing that galled me the most was that the judges described Michael as a loving, caring person who was trying to provide the best care for his wife. “It was like trying to make sense out of something that doesn’t make sense,” Bob recalled. “And your brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

I was at work the day the ruling came down. Bob called with the news and asked if I wanted him to come over. I was too numb to want support. “I’ll be okay,” I told him, knowing I wouldn’t. “You call Bobby and Suzanne. They’re a mess.”

None of us were surprised by the ruling. “The first ruling with Greer,” Bob says, “that one blew me away. I thought it was dishonest. The second one, I could tell the way Altenbernd handled it that he was going to rule against us. Then I was really worried. In talking with Magri before the ruling came in, I asked what our safety nets were. He said that of course we’d appeal the decision if it went against us, if necessary to the Florida Supreme Court and the United States Supreme Court. But he also said it was unlikely we’d get relief.

“And I knew personally I was preparing myself for what was coming. I was getting mentally conditioned for it, where I wasn’t when Greer gave his ruling. At this juncture, I was preparing for it and trying to brace for the storm that was coming, because I knew it was going to happen.”

I, too, braced myself. If the ruling goes against us, I vowed, we’d try and try and try again—whatever it took—to help Terri. But I had no idea what to do.

Desperation drove us forward. Bob stayed on the phones continuously, trying to win support for Terri from anyone who’d listen. He kept saying that something underhanded was going on, that at the very least we were seeing an old-boy network in operation.

We were boosted by an amazing call.

“Mr. Schindler?” a voice with a pronounced Texas drawl asked.

“Speaking.”

“This is Ross Perot. I heard about your troubles, and I just want you to know that if you find a doctor to oversee Terri’s rehabilitation, I’d like to help.”

We were deeply moved. If so important a man knew about Terri, we figured, some of the publicity we were trying to generate had worked. And if he cared, others must care as well. We had been feeling lost, alone, defenseless against the power of the courts. Now a powerful voice spoke for our side.

Bob also got calls from police officers and retired sheriffs who told him we had obviously run into a heartless judge, but it was hardly much solace. Doctors and therapists called, offering their services for free. An organization involved with helping brain-injured individuals sent us letters from patients like Terri who had been misdiagnosed with PVS, evidence they felt we could use in our appeals.

Beginning in February and on through March 2001, the pace of court hearings became dizzying:

•  Joe Magri files a motion for a rehearing by the appellate court, this time with all the appellate judges present. Denied.

•  George Felos files to reverse Judge Greer’s ruling prohibiting the removal of Terri’s feeding tube until the entire appeal process is settled.

•  Magri counterfiles, asking the appellate court for a thirty-day stay of the removal. Granted. Greer orders the tube removed once the appellate court’s stay is over. Magri files with the appellate court for an extension of the stay until an appeal before the Florida Supreme Court is heard. He is told to file with the supreme court, and that no stay beyond that filing date would be granted.

The prevailing trend was easy to see: Terri’s chances were growing dim. The day of her death could not be far away.

Suzanne asked her divorce lawyer, Jane Grossman,
¹
to recommend someone to take on perjury charges against Michael, a case Magri said he was ill equipped to handle. “Well,” Jane replied, “there’s this high-profile attorney who’s got a great reputation. Her name’s Pat Anderson.” Bob and Bobby went to see her.

“We spent several hours just talking to her and her partner, Jim Eckert,” Bob remembers. “They immediately recognized what was going on. Eckert jumped to his feet. ‘This means war!’ he shouted, pounding on the table. ‘It’s outrageous. Let’s go get ’em.’”

On April 12, 2001, Pat filed in the circuit court to disqualify Judge Greer from Terri’s case due to discrepancies in the trial. Four days later, Greer denied the motion. (How Greer could decide on his own competence mystified me then and baffles me now.) On April 18, the Florida Supreme Court refused to hear Terri’s case and refused to extend Terri’s stay beyond 1:00 p.m. on April 20. Anderson immediately filed a petition asking the federal court to intervene, arguing that Terri’s civil rights were being violated.

On April 20, the federal court conducted a morning hearing.
“I thought Pat did well,” Bobby told us after it had ended. “The judge—he was an old-time judge—had a good reputation. My impression was that he didn’t want to go anywhere near the case. Like he didn’t want to have anything to do with it and was trying to find some way out. And he found a way.”

That afternoon, the judge ruled that Terri’s case was a matter for the country’s highest court and extended Terri’s stay to 5:00 p.m. on April 23, 2001, so we could lodge an appeal with the U.S. Supreme Court itself.

I get confused writing about these hearings and counterhearings, even with my notes in front of me and in the calm of retrospect. Imagine trying to keep up with the frantic pace of events when I was so frantic myself I could barely eat, sleep, or think. For the most part, Magri’s and Anderson’s maneuvers were beyond me, and I took no comfort in their words of reassurance: “This time we have a good chance.” I felt I was being tossed like a giant beach ball from stranger’s hand to stranger’s hand, helpless over where I landed. I remember little detail about those days, only the sense of floating from hour to hour without strength, without control, without comprehension.

I went to see Terri every day, pretending cheerfulness, acting as though nothing momentous were happening, singing and joking as always, but with a hollowness in my heart that I prayed she would not detect. And Terri would smile when I entered, protest when I left by trying to hold on to me, her sweetness undiminished.

On April 23, 2001, Justice Anthony Kennedy of the U.S. Supreme Court refused to hear Terri’s case.

On April 24, 2001, Terri’s feeding tube was removed, and she was left to die.

CHAPTER 11

Reprieve

“Prepare yourself for Terri’s death,” Joe Magri told us. “Start making funeral arrangements.” Our family had different reactions to his words.

“I had despaired,” Bobby says. “It was done. We were done. There was no hope.”

“I was just numb,” Suzanne adds. “I just remember walking out of the hospice in a daze—maybe I was in shock. I don’t remember thinking,
Well, this is over and done with. There’s nothing left to say and nothing left to do,
but I do remember feeling,
This can’t be happening.”

“What I was doing,” Bob says, “was trying to tell everyone, including myself, that it’s over. That we’d lost—there was nothing more we could do, we’d tried everything—and God rest Terri’s soul.”

I was the only one who refused to accept the inevitable.
The Lord’s not going to let her die like that. She’s not going to starve to death.

Terri’s feeding tube was removed. The event received only minmal attention. Glenn Beck, the local radio host, reported on her condition from the hospice grounds. Some thirty people prayed outside the hospice. Police guarded Terri’s door.

Bob asked the hospice administrator, Mary Labyak, to make sure Terri got her palliative care—something as simple as ice chips, for example—and Labyak assured him she would. Later that day, Bobby visited Terri and found that no care was being given. He called Labyak in a fury. “What about the care Terri was promised?” he asked. Labyak said Terri wasn’t to be given any. “Then you basically lied to my father and you lied to our attorney,” Bobby shouted, and slammed down the phone.

Soon afterward, one of our friends, Jana Carpenter, took Suzanne aside. A nurse herself, she was angry at the lack of care Terri was receiving, so mad that the two women drove to police headquarters to lodge a complaint. The police wouldn’t listen.

“We’re buying baby food,” Jana told Suzanne. “You’re gonna go in there and feed that girl.” Greer’s order did not say anything about denying her food by mouth.

Suzanne remembers the incident clearly. “We bought two jars of baby food and went back to the hospice. Jana wasn’t on the visitors’ list, so I went into Terri’s room alone while Bobby stayed outside, talking to one of the administrators. There was another nurse in the room. ‘What do you have in your hand?’ she asked.

“‘Baby food. Would you please feed it to her?’

“‘
Feed
her? We can’t do that.’

“‘You’re not giving her care. I’m definitely going to try to feed her.’

“Well, they all came rushing in—the head nurse and two other nurses—and marched me outside. I told them I was sorry and asked again if I could feed Terri. ‘Absolutely not!’ they said. ‘If you feed her, she might choke.’

“I mean, give me a break! They tell me she might choke, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, since she’s dying, anyway. I’m afraid I blew up. I got in the head nurse’s face. ‘Would you starve your pet to death? How would you feel about that?’ I yelled. ‘You’re starving a girl to death. How do you feel about
that
? You’re a mother. From one mother to another, I hope you can’t sleep at night.’