Doc: The Rape of the Town of Lovell (32 page)

A Yes.

Q Would you ever do a pelvic under those circumstances?

A No. Last Wednesday I—a week ago last Wednesday I did a pelvic in the office on Wednesday afternoon, but that was with a cleaning lady and a husband there. . . .

Q (By
Sam
T.
Scaling
, M.D.) . . . What do you think [Arden McArthur's] feelings toward you have been over the years up to the point when this problem surfaced? Your honest opinion of what—how—what you think she feels toward you.

A Well, she wanted to, you might say, make points, per her testimony, and work on me. . . .

Q Do you do abortions, Dr. Story?

A No.

Q Are you a Christian?

A Yes.

Q Are you spirit-filled or born-again Christian?

A In a sense. Bible-believing at least.

Kathy Karpan went over a few final points:

Q Dr. Story, we've had a number of questions about religious zealots, and I noticed something interesting in looking at your medical charts. You put the religion of your patients on the charts, do you not?

A If they tell it . . .

Q Dr. Story, once you know the religion of a patient, does that affect your relationship with the patient? A No. . . .

Q There is no significance, then, Doctor, to the fact that every complainant who has come into this room has been a Mormon? I'm suggesting that religious bias can run both ways, Dr. Story. . . .

A Some of them have convictions, and I have convictions. . . .

Q Is Arden McArthur a religious zealot in your judgment? You discussed a group of religious zealots, and I want to try to figure out who is in that group. A You want to put names on them?

Q Oh, yes, sir. We have names in this hearing and they've testified, so we want to know. Is Arden McArthur a religious

zealot?

A She is very committed to the group that she was born and

raised in.

Q Is Minda Brinkerhoff a religious zealot? A I don't know that I really want to put names on religious zealots.

Q But, Dr. Story, you've suggested to this Board that it's a group of religious zealots that are against you. Now if Arden McArthur is a religious zealot, why was she a patient for twenty-five years? Wasn't there a Mormon doctor in town at any time? ... If religion is her basis for being a patient, why did she stay with you for a quarter of a century? . . .

A I can explain things. I don't know that I care to go further in a religious zealot conversation, though. . . .

At last the defense rested, and the hearing officer told Kepler, "It would appear that you probably already have the answer to your offer to have Dr. Story submit to a physical examination." "I believe we have," Kepler responded.

Raper went on, "But let me state precisely that the Board rejects that offer unless there is some showing of anatomical abnormality that does not exist. So therefore the offer is rejected."

"DOC"

45

MARILYN STORY

On the two-hour drive back to Lovell, John seemed confident. From the first day, his attitude hadn't changed. He felt that the hearing was typical bureaucratic overreach, and he would be cleared. He giggled when he recounted Arden's testimony about putting his name on the prayer roll. "She said she was levitated," he said. They'd often joked about the Mormons—their burnings in the bosom, their silly garments with the funny markings, their quaint ideas about baptizing the dead and holding "courts of love" for the living. Mormons held hands with Satan, but sometimes they were good for a laugh.

A week passed without word from Cheyenne. John went about his practice, but Marilyn was worried sick. What was taking the Board so long? What was there to deliberate about? A bunch of silly charges by a bunch of silly women? John kept telling her not to worry—the typical bureaucrat couldn't tie his shoes in less than three days.

Marilyn imagined the worst. An honorable career would end in disgrace in this seedy little burg that she despised. But at least she didn't have to worry alone. Friends kept knocking at the door with platters of fried chicken, cakes, plates of cookies. Fellow parishioners brought so much ice cream that she had to borrow space in a neighbor's freezer. After word spread that John's favorite meal was meat loaf, the refrigerator sagged with its burden. Marilyn wrote in her journal: "Have received meals from Browns, Holms, Millers, Cheri and Janet. . . . What wonderful, thoughtful Christian friends we have."

But one close friend remained ominously silent. On May 11, six weeks after the hearing had adjourned, Marilyn wrote: "We have great concern over Diana. . . . We have had no contact with her since the hearing and keep getting word from others that she is
not
a friend. As an enemy she could do more harm to us than any other I could think of. I have been praying to see her, but feel no definite peace or leading—others have counseled me not to go. Lord, if only we could know Your will in certain things."

Another month went by. Then the Lovell
Chronicle
of June 7, 1984, broke the news under a headline an inch thick and six columns wide:

STATE BOARD REVOKES DOCTOR'S LICENSE

The article noted that the revocation would become effective June 30. Kathleen Karpan was quoted as saying that the reason was "unprofessional and dishonorable conduct likely to deceive, harm, or defraud the public."

"What a shock!" Marilyn wrote in her journal. ". . . Lord, how we need your wisdom to know what to do."

The next week's
Chronicle
was crammed with letters of support. An advertising column, "Cards of Thanks," rang with praise of John:

Dr. Story has been our physician, our neighbor and our friend for twenty-five years. We believe and trust in him. Evy and Bob
Richardson.

Doc Story and Marilyn, you have been a lot of help to our family in time of need. Now let us help you. Wayman and Bernita Moody.

. . . Thanks for being such a wonderful doctor! Hope to have you for another 25 years! Leola Mangus.

We wish to thank Dr. Story and Marilyn for their love and patience with us as a family. . . . They are special people and we don't want to lose them. Calvin and Parthena.

Doc and Marilyn, "The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him and delivereth them." Psalm 34:7. J. C. Brown family.

Doc and Marilyn, we love you and God shall turn your midnights into day. Psalms 30:5b. Ken and Janet.

We appreciate you, Dr. and Mrs. Story. Psalms 28. The Butch Finks. . . .

For weeks the letters and ads appeared, many from prominent citizens. Mayor Herman Fink and his wife wrote, "Dr. and Mrs. Story, we thank you for your faithful service to our family and our town, you have our support." Town clerk La Vera Hillman paid for a short ad: "Dr. and Mrs. Story: our community is a better place because of you! My love and support is with you!" The great old pioneer names of Lovell were on some of the letters: Doerr, Bi-schoff, Thompson, Sorensen. . . .

Mrs. Ron Massine wrote in from Mesquite, Texas: "It amazes me that anyone could take these charges against him seriously." Former Lovell High School teacher and coach Dean Gerke, who'd been "pressured" to leave by the McArthurs and others, wrote from Columbus, Montana: "What a loss Dr. John Story would be to your community."

In all the public support, Marilyn was glad to see so few sour grapes. A predictable letter from Scott Brinkerhoff quoted Isaiah: "Woe unto them that call evil good and good evil." One of Minda Brinkerhoffs old girl friends, Rhonda Christensen, thanked the accusers for "having the courage." But anti-Story notes were offset ten to one by letters like the one signed by three Lovell women saying that the news had made them "literally physically ill. . . . It is truly appalling to each of us that such a wonderful doctor should be put to such a test," and the letter from a young couple that was headlined, "Too much faith was only fault."

At last John was beginning to take things more seriously. He enlisted the aid of his most powerful patient, Cal Taggart, the heaviest-hitting big-shot politico clear to the Montana border. Taggart owned half the buildings on Main Street, flew his own plane, divided his time among a big house in town, a cabin in the Big Horns and a home in Sun City, Arizona. He'd built up his family insurance business and started his own political career as mayor of Lovell. He was relaxed, approachable, and as quick to do a favor as he'd been during his twelve years in the state senate.

A smiling John returned from the meeting and confided that Taggart had promised to use his pull with Governor Ed Herschler. Later Taggart phoned Marilyn with a message: "I talked to the governor. Don't worry. Doc'll be practicing real soon."

She wrote in her journal, "At noon a very beautiful brilliant rainbow appeared in the southern sky. It seemed a promise from God that 'there will be a brighter day.' "

A few hot days after the rainbow, on July 10, the Lord's promise was fulfilled. John's lawyers had a short but rewarding hearing before District Judge John Dixon in Cody, forty-six miles west of Lovell. Marilyn's scrawled report ran across a full page of her journal: "The judge gave John a stay on the revocation and a chance for appeal! Praise the Lord!" She thought how comforting it was to know that some people in Wyoming knew an innocent man when they saw one.

Arden rode her bike toward the dry cleaners and inhaled the sweet fumes from the sugar factory at the other end of town. The sugar campaign was just getting started. From now till the last truckload of gray-brown beets spilled onto the conveyor belt in February, the aroma of the refining process would be in every nose. At best the fumes smelled like hay after wet weather, at worst like bad feet. To Arden, the smell meant home and money.

She'd just pedaled past the Hyart Theater when Joe Brown pulled alongside in his car and called out, "Well, I hope you're proud of yourself." If it was for helping to put Story's tail feathers in a crack, she thought, he's right—I couldn't be prouder. She was glad when the hospital manager sped off.

After she opened the dry cleaners, she checked the latest edition of the Lovell
Chronicle
and wished she hadn't. An article quoted a judge named Dixon as ruling that Dr. Story could continue to practice while his appeal was pending, and the file on the case would remain sealed.

She called the attorney general's office and asked how long it would take the judge to rule on the appeal. "Months," the state lawyer told her. "And longer if he goes to the higher courts."

"How long could that take?"

"Oh, a year or two. If he files in the federal courts, maybe three or four."

Her voice skittered way up. "And he can practice the whole time?"

"That's Judge Dixon's ruling."

She asked why the state didn't just go ahead and file criminal charges; rape was still rape, and the simple lifting of a license didn't seem to fit the crime. "The criminal action's been dropped," the lawyer told her. "It's the Medical Board's baby now."

You mean it's their hot potato, she said to herself. Why are you folks trying to fob this off on someone else? She remembered other injustices that she'd read about: murderers sitting on Death Row for years, civil rights issues heard and reheard, courts reversing other courts, rulings overturned on technicalities and word games. She thought, Dr. Story is almost sixty. If he can keep the revocation on hold for another four or five years, he can retire and it'll be the same as if he'd never lost his license. Is that what Wyoming calls justice?

By fall, Dean was up and around, but he wasn't much use to himself or his family. Anyone could see that the stress was killing him. The pressure from Story backers was unrelenting. Each morning Arden had to lead a bicycle convoy to school. Inside the classroom, the McArthur children were taunted, teased and assaulted with Scripture, including passages from the Book of Mormon. When they sat together at athletic events, they were shunned. Now and then a brave friend would come over to show support, then slide away.

Arden and Dean decided to take Cal Taggart's long-standing advice to put up or shut up, and they went to see the new county attorney in his little office in Greybull, thirty miles south of Lovell. At first, Arden was unimpressed. His name was Terrill R. Tharp, "Terry" to his friends, and he certainly didn't make her feel like one. He had a farm-boy look that made him seem more like somebody's hired milker than the chief law enforcement officer of Big Horn County. He had long skinny limbs, thinning reddish-brown hair, a high pink forehead, and tightly drawn skin that showed the shape of his skull. He didn't look much older than thirty. She couldn't decide whether he took after Howdy Doody or Bozo the Clown. In his old parka, open shirt and battered boots, he looked as though he'd just ridden into town on a bad horse. -