Death Penalty (43 page)

“Did the officers find any medical supplies, drugs, syringes, that sort of thing?”

“No.”

“That's all I have. Thank you.”

Everybody looked surprised. The cop, Rand, the judge, and especially my client.

“What the
hell
are you doing?” Stewart whispered as I sat down.

I ignored him.

Rand then called Mrs. Legrand and her granddaughter, who had been at the Cronin home. Mrs. Legrand had to be helped into the witness stand and Rand had to shout his questions. Basically, she knew nothing except that Stewart had been a guest. The granddaughter's testimony was the same.

Again, I passed on questioning them. Behind me, I could sense Stewart's growing alarm.

Next Rand called the private nurse who had been on duty. She testified that Dr. Stewart had told her to take a break, that he would watch over the patient while she had
a cup of coffee. The patient had been unconscious but alive when she left, she said. When she was called back, Sean Cronin was dead.

I asked her a few questions about the medicines given her patient but nothing more. As she quickly left the witness stand she looked grateful.

We took a short break. Rand and I went into chambers and had some more coffee with the judge. More doughnuts, too. Rudy Hathaway looked like he was enjoying himself.

“You off your feed today, Charley?” he asked.

“Just saving myself for later.”

His high laugh must have been heard out in the courtroom.

“Well, I'm dying of curiosity. Let's go back at it, shall we?”

The crowd inside settled down quickly as Rand called Dr. Kim S. A. Kim to the stand. Doctor Kim testified that he had been treating Sean Cronin for practically everything that could go wrong with a person, from heart disease to kidney failure. He had seen Cronin the morning of the day he died. He said Cronin had been in bad shape but that he had seen him worse. He said that usually, on the request of the daughters, he saw Cronin once a day.

Rand turned him over to me.

“Doctor, did you expect Mr. Cronin to recover?”

He shook his head. “No. I had prepared his daughters. Mr. Cronin was very old and he was very sick. Frankly, he continued to surprise me by clinging to life.”

“Doctor, were you treating Mr. Cronin with the drug Lasix?”

“Yes, among others. Lasix is standard when a kidney problem like Mr. Cronin's exists. Lasix helps the body get rid of excess water.”

“This drug was given by the private nurses attending Mr. Cronin, I presume?”

“Yes. Under my directions.”

“Did you direct that Mr. Cronin be given potassium chloride?”

He hesitated. “Yes. That's standard, in these conditions, to counter the effect of the Lasix. Lasix is a diuretic and in getting rid of fluid it tends to get rid of the potassium that the body requires in order to function.”

“And the drug potassium chloride was there, in the house, for administration pursuant to your direction? Given, as a matter of fact, on a daily basis by the nurse. Is that correct?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Rand stood up for a moment, as if debating to continue questioning the doctor, then decided against it. “I have nothing further,” he said.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Rudy smiled from the bench. I guessed from the familiar warmth he exhibited that Kim was his doctor, too. “You're excused.”

“I call Donna Cronin to the stand,” Rand then announced in a loud voice.

She came forward as if going to her execution, her head down and her steps slow and uncertain. She took the witness chair and was sworn. Her answer to the oath given by the clerk was barely audible.

She was like a creature who lived in darkness suddenly pulled from that protection and shoved out into bright sunlight. I felt sorry for her. Physically, she might look like a professional wrestler, but that had been nature's nasty trick. Inside, judging from our first meeting, she was a shy girl, a sixty-year-old schoolgirl, afraid and without defenses.

Eddie Rand had to ask her several times to keep her voice up. It was a squeaky chirp and trembled at the edge of tears. Rand asked her about her father's last days and about his illness. Obviously, father had been the center of the Cronin universe. She told of his comas and periods of
raving. A small tear trickled down slowly over her muscular cheek.

Rand tiptoed around questions that might involve her sister, but he did ask why Dr. Stewart had been invited.

Again, as she had in her home, she was careful to protect her sister, but she said a large amount of money had been paid to Dr. Stewart in the hope, as she put it, that her father's suffering could be brought to an end. She didn't expand on how that was to be accomplished, nor did Rand pursue it, except to ask her if it had been her idea. She said it hadn't been, and he dropped it right there.

Then her voice became a little stronger as she identified Miles Stewart and told of seeing him in her father's sickroom, syringe in hand. She said she had run to fetch her sister, and when they returned, Dr. Stewart told them Sean Cronin was dead.

“Do you believe that the defendant, Miles Stewart, killed your father?” Rand asked quickly.

Rudy Hathaway looked at me, expecting the usual objection. Conjecture was for experts only.

I merely shrugged and said nothing.

“Yes, I do,” she said firmly.

Rand walked back, letting the answer hang in the air for effect and then he turned to me. “You may take the witness.”

I stood up but didn't speak. She looked away. I could see her hands shaking in fright.

The courtroom was deathly quiet, waiting for what they thought would be fireworks.

I let them wait a minute and then I smiled at Donna Cronin. “No questions,” I said, and sat down.

“What the
fuck
are you doing,” Stewart hissed in my ear, “selling me down the fucking river!”

“Have faith,” I whispered. I turned to smile at him. His face was flaming red.

“I call Doctor Clyde Anderson to the stand,” Rand announced.

Clyde Anderson came forward—a tall, dignified man in his early sixties, looking more like a bank president than a pathologist. I had had him on a number of cases. He was an expert doctor and an expert witness, equally skillful in either role. I had studied his autopsy report until I felt I could recite it from memory.

“What is your name, please?” Rand asked.

“Clyde Anderson.”

“And you are a physician licensed to practice medicine in the state of Michigan?”

Before he could answer, I stood up. “Doctor Anderson is well known to me. I will stipulate to his qualifications.”

Rand seemed surprised, but then quickly continued.

“Did you perform an autopsy on the body of the late Sean Cronin?”

“I did.”

Anderson calmly told of how the body was identified to him and how he had done his grisly work at the fine facilities of Humanic General Hospital in Bay City.

He went through the steps of weighing the organs, taking the blood and tissue samples, and then gave his opinion.

Sean Cronin, he said, had died from a lethal injection of potassium chloride, a drug that had caused instant cardiac arrest, which was the ultimate cause of death.

I stood up and glanced at my watch. “If the court please,” I said, “I anticipate my cross-examination will be lengthy. I notice that it's close to lunchtime. I wonder if the court might consider taking the lunch break now?”

Rudy Hathaway scowled, pretending annoyance. “Are you trying to run my courtroom, Mr. Sloan?”

“I wouldn't think of it, Your Honor.”

“What about you, Rand? You got any more witnesses, or is this it?”

“Subject to rebuttal, that's it,” Rand answered.

“Well, despite counsel's rudeness”—he glared at me, but I knew he was acting—“we'll break now for lunch. We'll start again at one o'clock precisely.”

He waited a beat. “I wish to see both counsel in my chambers,” he snapped.

Rand and I followed him into chambers.

Taking off his robe, he addressed us. “How about I have Cork send over some sandwiches? We can eat here. No point in going out, not with that army of reporters waiting. Okay with you, Charley?”

“Sure.”

“Mr. Prosecutor?”

“Fine by me.”

He got on the phone and told Cork to have his excellent chef prepare sandwiches, all kinds and plenty of them. Then he put on water for coffee.

“What'cha got planned for the good doctor, Charley?” he asked as he spooned out the coffee grounds.

“I think you had better wait for that, Judge.”

His high cackle reverberated throughout the room. “Good stuff, Charley?”

“I hope so.”

“Hold on to your balls, Rand,” the judge said. “I think we may yet find out how Charley here comes by his awesome reputation.”

The sandwiches were just as good as the doughnuts.

And then it was time to start the examination again.

I was ready.

AT ONE O'CLOCK
we trooped back out into the courtroom. It took a few minutes for everyone to settle down. Dr. Anderson once again took the witness stand.

“Doctor, in your report I notice that the lab report shows that Sean Cronin's potassium level was within normal range. Is that a misprint?”

“No, it is not.”

“Did you discover a toxic level of potassium by some other means?”

“No, I did not.”

“Yet you say that he died of a lethal dose of potassium. I did hear that correctly, did I not?”

He smiled. “You heard correctly, Mr. Sloan.”

“Did you find, by physical examination, or lab reports concerning the tissues or blood, any substance in Mr. Sean Cronin that might be said to be at a toxic or deadly level?”

“No.”

“As part of your examination did you investigate what medications were being given to Mr. Cronin, prior to his death?”

“I did.”

“Was potassium chloride one of the prescribed medications?”

“Yes. Dr. Kim testified to that earlier today. He said, quite correctly, that the drug is given to offset the effects of a diuretic.”

“Would that be standard procedure for someone like Mr. Cronin?”

“Yes, it would be. Given the condition of his kidneys and heart.”

“How is that drug, potassium, given, Doctor?”

“Potassium is produced naturally by the body. It's necessary to life. It has a number of beneficial effects on the heart, kidneys, and other functioning organs of the body. When a sufficient amount is not produced naturally, when more is needed, it is prescribed. Too much is fatal.”

“I understand that. But how is the drug usually administered?”

Dr. Anderson showed no signs of nervousness. He spoke as a teacher might to a somewhat slow pupil. “It can be given orally. In this case, Mr. Cronin was on an
intravenous drip, glucose and water, and the drug was administered by injecting it directly into that IV drip. Potassium cannot be given by an intermuscular injection, the ones doctors usually give in their offices, because it's too painful. Even on an IV injection, it can be unpleasant. Sometimes liquid Valium is injected first.”

“Did you find Valium in the blood?”

“No. I'm informed Mr. Cronin was unconscious much of the time. It probably wasn't needed, given that circumstance.”

“Judging from your autopsy report, Mr. Cronin was in very bad physical condition, correct?”

He nodded. “Yes. He was of advanced age. To put it in layman's language, his heart had deteriorated to the point that it was more like a bag than a pump. The kidneys were almost useless. He was at the point of death from a number of causes.”

“In your report, you make reference to Doctor Stewart's having been seen with a syringe, and you also refer to his reputation. Did that in any way contribute to your ultimate conclusion?”

“It did.”

“I take it you accepted what you had been told as truthful?”

“Yes, I did. There was no reason to disbelieve what I was told. If it had been a gunshot wound and the defendant was said to have been seen with a smoking gun, I would have taken that into consideration as to whether it was murder or suicide.”

“You equate the syringe with a smoking gun, so to speak?”

“I think most people would.”

“Even doctors?”

He smiled. “Especially doctors.”

“You conclude that the syringe held potassium?”

“I do. Given the deceased's condition, it wouldn't have taken much.”

“But you found no toxic level of potassium in the body, isn't that right? How can you conclude it was potassium?”

“By a process of elimination.”

“Oh? Can you explain this process to the court?”

He nodded. “If it had been any other kind of toxic substance it would have shown up in the lab work. Nothing was found. Potassium is natural to the body, as I said. Also, it dissipates quickly, especially in dying cells. The man died and I performed the autopsy approximately eight hours after death. By that time, even a toxic amount would have been dissipated, especially since a diuretic was being used.”

“Have I got this right?” I asked. “You concluded it was potassium because you found no toxic amount of any substance?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Even though the potassium level you did find was normal?”

“Something was in that syringe. Given the findings, it could only have been potassium. Anything else would have showed up.”

I glanced up at Rudy Hathaway. He was following the testimony closely.

“Now, Doctor, let me propose to you a hypothetical question, if I may?”

He smiled.

“I will ask you to assume that a body, identical to Sean Cronin's, is brought to you for autopsy. But this time there is nothing in the record about Doctor Miles Stewart, his possible reputation, or any record of someone having seen a syringe, a smoking syringe. But, everything in the body is exactly the same physically. You perform the autopsy and find exactly what you found in
Mr. Cronin's body. What, in those circumstances, would have been the cause of death?”