Crisis (47 page)
"Ms. Rattner testified that you told her en route that you thought her complaints might be legitimate. Is that true?"
"It is true, but I didn't say that I considered the chances to be extremely small. I said I was concerned because I noted slightly more concern than usual in Mr. Stanhope's voice."
"Did you tell Mr. Stanhope on the phone that you believed Mrs. Stanhope had had a heart attack?"
"No, I did not. I told him that it would have to be ruled out with any complaint of chest pain, but Mrs. Stanhope had had chest pain in the past that had proved to be insignificant."
"Did Mrs. Stanhope have a heart condition?"
"I had done a stress test several months previous to her demise that was equivocal. It wasn't enough to say she had a heart condition, but I felt strongly that she should have more definitive cardiac studies by a cardiologist at the hospital."
"Did you recommend that to the patient?"
"I strongly recommended it, but she refused, particularly since it involved going to the hospital."
"One last question, doctor," Randolph said. "In relation to your office's PP, or problem patient, designation, did that signify the patient got more attention or less attention?"
"Considerably more attention! The problem with patients so designated was that I could not relieve their symptoms, whether real or imagined. As a doctor, I found that a continual problem, hence the terminology."
"Thank you, doctor," Randolph said as he gathered up his notes. "No more questions."
"Mr. Fasano," Judge Davidson called. "Do you wish to redirect?"
"Absolutely, Your Honor," Tony barked. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the podium like a hound after a rabbit.
"Dr. Bowman, in relation to your PP patients, did you not say to your then live-in girlfriend while riding in your new red Porsche on the way to the Stanhope home on September eighth, 2005, that you couldn't stand such patients and that you thought hypochondriacs were as bad as malingerers?"
There was a pause as Craig fixed Tony with his eyes as if they were weapons.
"Doctor?" Tony asked. "Cat got your tongue, as we used to say in elementary school?"
"I don't remember," Craig said finally.
"Don't remember?" Tony questioned with exaggerated disbelief. "Oh, please, doctor, that's a too convenient excuse, especially from someone who has excelled throughout his training at remembering trivial details. Ms. Rattner certainly remembered as she testified. Perhaps you can remember telling Ms. Rattner on the evening you were served your summons for this lawsuit that you hated Patience Stanhope and that her passing was a blessing for everyone. Is that possibly something you can recall?" Tony leaned forward over the podium as much as his short stature would allow and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"I said something to that effect," Craig reluctantly admitted. "I was angry."
"Of course you were angry," Tony exclaimed. "You were outraged that someone, like my bereaved client, could possibly have the gall to question whether your judgment was in keeping with the standard of care."
"Objection!" Randolph said. "Argumentative!"
"Sustained," Judge Davidson said. He glared at Tony.
"We are all impressed with your rags-to-riches story," Tony said, maintaining his disdain. "But I'm not sure what that means now, especially considering the lifestyle your patients have provided you over the years. What is the current market value of your home?"
"Objection," Randolph said. "Irrelevant and immaterial."
"Your Honor," Tony complained. "The defense presented economic testimony to attest to the defendant's commitment to become a physician. It is only reasonable for the jury to hear what economic rewards have accrued."
Judge Davidson pondered for a moment before saying, "Objection overruled. The witness may answer the question."
Tony redirected his attention at Craig. "Well?"
Craig shrugged. "Two or three million, but we didn't pay that."
"I would now like to ask you a few questions about your concierge practice," Tony said, gripping the sides of the podium tightly. "Do you believe that demanding an annual, up-front payment of thousands of dollars is beyond some patients' means?"
"Of course," Craig snapped.
"What happened to those beloved patients of yours who either could not or did not for whatever reason come up with the retainer fee that was financing your new Porsche and your sex den on Beacon Hill?"
"Objection!" Randolph said. He stood up. "Argumentative and prejudicial."
"Sustained," Judge Davidson barked. "Counsel will restrict his questions to elicit appropriate factual information and will not word his questions to float theories or arguments better left for summation. This is my last warning!"
"I'm sorry, Your Honor," Tony said before turning back to Craig. "What happened to those beloved patients whom you had been caring for over the years?"
"They had to find new doctors."
"Which I'm afraid is often easier said than done. Did you help with this chore?"
"We offered names and numbers."
"Did you just get them out of the Yellow Pages?"
"They were local physicians, with whom my staff and I were acquainted."
"Did you call these physicians?"
"In some cases."
"Which means in some cases you did not call. Dr. Bowman, did it not bother you to abandon your supposedly cherished patients who were desperate, looking to you for their health needs?"
"I didn't abandon them!" Craig spat indignantly. "I gave them choices."
"No more questions," Tony said. He rolled his eyes on the way back to the plaintiff's table.
Judge Davidson looked over his glasses at Randolph. "Does the defense wish to recross?"
"No, Your Honor," Randolph said, half rising out of his chair.
"The witness may step down," Judge Davidson said.
Craig stood, and with a deliberate step, walked back to the defense table.
The judge turned his attention to Tony. "Mr. Fasano?"
Tony stood. "Plaintiff rests, Your Honor," he said confidently before retaking his seat.
The judge's eyes swept back to Randolph.
On cue, Randolph stood up to his full patrician height. "Based on the inadequacy of the plaintiff's case and lack of evidence thereof, the defense moves to dismiss."
"Overruled," Judge Davidson said crisply. "The evidence presented is sufficient for us to go forward. When court reconvenes after a lunch break, you may call your first witness, Mr. Bingham." He then brought his gavel down sharply, and the sound echoed like a gunshot. "Recess for lunch. You are admonished again not to discuss the case among yourselves or with anyone and to withhold any opinions until the conclusion of the testimony."
"All rise," the court officer called out.
Jack and Alexis got to their feet along with everyone else in the courtroom as the judge stepped down from the bench and disappeared through the paneled side door.
"What did you think?" Jack asked while the jury was ushered out.
"I'm continually amazed at the level of Craig's apparent inner anger at these proceedings, that he has such little self-control over his behavior."
"With you being the in-house expert, I'm surprised you're surprised. Isn't it consistent with his narcissism?"
"It is, but I was hoping that with the insight he expressed yesterday at lunch, he'd be able to control himself better. When Tony merely stood up even before he started his questions, I could see Craig's expression change."
"Actually, I was asking your opinion of how Randolph orchestrated the part of the cross-examination we heard."
"Unfortunately, I don't think it was as effective as I would have hoped. It made Craig sound too preachy, like he was giving a lecture. I would have preferred the whole cross to have been punchy and direct, like it was at the end."
"I thought Randolph's cross was pretty effective," Jack said. "I never realized Craig was such a self-made man. Working as hard as he did at gainful employment while going to medical school and still getting the grades he did is very impressive."
"But you're a doctor, not a juror, and you didn't hear Tony's direct. Craig might have struggled as a student, but from the juror's perspective, it's hard to have sympathy now that Craig and I are living in what is probably closer to being a four-million-dollar home, and Tony was very clever on his redirect, the way he brought back Craig's negative feelings about the patient, the red Porsche, the girlfriend, and the fact that he had to forsake many of his old patients."
Jack reluctantly nodded. He had been struggling to look on the bright side for Alexis's benefit. He tried a different tack: "Well, now it's Randolph's turn in the sun. It's time for the defense to shine."
"I'm afraid there's not going to be much sunshine. All Randolph is going to do is present two or three expert witnesses, none of whom are from Boston. He said he'll be finished this afternoon. Tomorrow will be the summations." Alexis shook her head dejectedly. "Under the circumstances, I don't see how he could turn this thing around."
"He's an experienced malpractice attorney," Jack said, attempting to generate enthusiasm he didn't feel. "Experience generally prevails in the final analysis. Who knows. Maybe he has a surprise up his sleeve."
Jack didn't realize he was half-right. There was to be a surprise, but it wasn't going to come from Randolph's sleeve.
18
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS THURSDAY, JUNE 8, 2006 1:15 P.M.
"Magazines?" the waif-like young woman questioned. Jack thought she was no more than ninety pounds, yet she was walking a half dozen dogs ranging in size from a gray Great Dane down to a small bichon frise. A clutch of clear plastic poop bags stuck out of her jeans' back pocket. Jack had stopped her after following his established route back down through the Beacon Hill neighborhood. He had it in his mind to buy some reading material in case the wait for the backhoe operator turned out to be overly protracted.
"Let's see," the woman said, scrunching her face in thought. "There's a couple of places on Charles Street."
"One would be fine," Jack said.
"There's Gary Drug on the corner of Charles and Mount Vernon Street."
"Am I going in the right direction?" Jack questioned. At the moment he was on Charles Street, heading toward the park area and the parking garage.
"You are. The drugstore is a block down on this side of the street."
Jack thanked the woman, who was pulled away by her impatient canines.
The shop was a true, ma-and-pop-type store with an old-fashioned cluttered but welcoming ambience. The whole shebang was about the size of the shampoo section in a generic chain drugstore, yet it was a true emporium. Products that ranged from vitamins to cold remedies to notebooks were tucked into shelving that went from floor to ceiling along the single aisle. At the far end near the pharmacy counter was a surprisingly wide selection of magazines and newspapers.
Jack had mistakenly agreed to lunch with Alexis and Craig. It turned out to be like being invited to a wake where you were expected to converse with the deceased. Craig was furious at the system, as he called it, at Tony Fasano, at Jordan Stanhope, and mostly at himself. He knew he'd done a terrible job despite the hours of practice he'd been through with Randolph the night before. When Alexis tried to get him to talk about why he had so little control of his emotions, knowing full well it was in his best interest to do so, he flew off the handle, and he and Alexis had a short but nasty exchange. But mostly Craig just sat for the hour in sullen withdrawal. Alexis and Jack had tried to talk, but the intensity of Craig's irritation gave off vibes that were difficult to ignore.
At the end of lunch, Alexis was hoping Jack would return to the courtroom, but Jack had begged off with the excuse that he wanted to get to the cemetery by two in hopes that Percy Gallaudet had made short work of his contribution in rectifying his buddy's sewer system. At that point, Craig had angrily told Jack just to give up, that the die had been cast, so Jack needn't bother. Jack had responded that he'd gone too far involving too many people to abandon the idea.
With several magazines and a
New York Times
under his arm, Jack proceeded on to the parking garage, got his sad-looking Accent out into the daylight, and headed west. He had a bit of trouble finding the route that had brought him into the city that morning, but he eventually recognized a few landmarks that indicated he was on the correct road.
Jack pulled into the Park Meadow Cemetery at two ten and parked next to a Dodge minivan in front of the office building. Going inside, he found the frumpy woman and Walter Strasser exactly as he'd left them in the morning. The woman was typing into a monitor, and Walter was sitting impassively at his desk with his hands still clasped over his paunch. Jack wondered if he ever did any work, since there was nothing on his desk surface to suggest it. Both people looked in Jack's direction, but the woman immediately went back to her work without a word. Jack proceeded over to Walter, who followed him with his eyes.
