It's Nothing Personal (17 page)

It was a flawless performance.
 
Every word, every gesture, every facial
expression had been rehearsed and finessed for maximum impact.
  

The interview concluded, and the cameraman
shut off the spotlight.
 
Allison
politely shook hands with Tamara Knight and walked away.

Jenna darted around the corner of the
courthouse.
 
Her palms were clammy,
and she was sweating profusely.
 
She
had come face-to-face with the woman who would set out to destroy her.

As Jenna stood panting on the sidewalk, her
phone vibrated in her purse.
 
A text
message from Jim Taylor read, “Plea deal struck with Martin.
 
No trial next week.
 
You’re off the hook.
 
Call with any questions.”

Jenna whispered to herself, “Tell me
something I don’t know.”

CHAPTER 24

October
25, 2010

At exactly eight o’clock in the morning, an
unmarked van pulled up to the rear entrance of the Federal District
Courthouse.
 
Hillary Martin emerged
from the back, with armed guards surrounding her.
 
She looked every bit the criminal.
 
As she lumbered along, shackled by
chains, a small crowd of enraged bystanders yelled obscenities at her.
 
Some held signs branding her a
“Murderer” and a “Drug-Addicted Whore.”
 
Throngs of television cameras captured the scene for the evening
news.
 
Reporters shouted Hillary’s
name, hoping to get a statement or coax her into turning their direction.
 
She refused to acknowledge them.
 
Once inside, Hillary was led to the U.S.
Attorney’s offices on the third floor of the building.
 

Two male officers steered Hillary into an
interview room and ordered her to sit at the far end of the table.
 
With each step, metal dug into the bare skin
of her ankles.
 
Hillary shuffled to
the chair and clumsily plopped down.
 
One officer removed her handcuffs and bulletproof vest, but left the
ankle restraints in place.
 
The
officer stood behind Hillary while his cohort guarded the door.
 

Within minutes, a middle-aged man with short
black hair and a goatee marched in, carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee.
 
Hillary recognized him from the court
proceedings the week before.
 

The man addressed her from across the
room.
 
“Hillary Martin?”

“Yes.”
 
Hillary remained seated, refusing to show respect.

“I’m Federal Prosecutor Frank Montano.”
 
Montano made no attempt to shake
Hillary’s hand or otherwise come close to her.
 
He took his seat at the opposite end of
the table.

“I will remind you, Ms. Martin, that you are
under oath,” Montano said with reproach.
 
“There are certain things we need to ascertain from you today, and I
expect nothing less than the truth.
 
Do I make myself clear?”

Hillary’s jaw clenched.
 
Indignantly, she answered, “Yes.”

“Ms. Martin, during your acts of diversion
of Fentanyl at St. Augustine Hospital, did you fully understand that certain
diseases, like HIV and hepatitis, could be transmitted through bodily fluids?
 
Particularly through blood?”
 

Desperately wanting to hide from the truth,
Hillary paused before she answered.
 
Reluctantly, she mumbled, “Yes.”

“During that period of time, did you fully
understand that those diseases could be spread via a contaminated syringe or
needle?”

Montano’s condescending tone incited
Hillary.
 
She glowered at the
prosecutor and said bitterly, “Yes.”

The federal prosecutor persisted, unfazed by
Hillary’s defiance.

“Is it true that before you started working
at St. Augustine, you were explicitly told by a nurse at the employee health clinic
that you had hepatitis C?
 
Furthermore, did the nurse not provide you with a hard copy of those lab
results?
 
In case you don’t remember,
I have a copy of those results with your signature of acknowledgement at the
bottom.”

Hillary started to fidget.
 
Her nostrils flared as she responded,
“Yes.”

Montano could see the perspiration
collecting on Hillary’s brow.
 
Sensing her growing discomfort, he continued his assault.

“Regarding your diversion of Fentanyl at St.
Augustine Hospital, you indicated to the police that you would sometimes take
the drug home and shoot up there.
 
Is that correct?”

“Yes.”
 
Hillary knew exactly where Montano was headed.
 
She tried to slow her breathing, in
hopes that her heart rate would follow suit.

“Did you ever share the needles and the
stolen Fentanyl with other people?”

Montano held his breath as he waited for her
response.
 
This was the most
critical question he would ask.
 
Up
until this point, investigators were only attempting to identify patients who
were positive for hepatitis C with a viral DNA sequence that matched that of
Hillary Martin’s.
 
If there were
other individuals involved in contaminating the needles and syringes, the
genotype match would become a meaningless tool for identifying victims.
 
Worse, there could be other diseases
involved.
 
The magnitude of the
crisis was about to escalate.

Hillary gazed at her reflection in the
one-way mirror behind Montano.
 
Her
chest felt constricted.
 
“Yes,”
Hillary whispered.
 
She took a big
breath and forced out the truth in a guttural cry, “
Yes
!”

CHAPTER 25

December
15, 2010

Jenna woke early, put on several layers of
clothing, and took her dog for a run.
 
Although the temperature was near freezing, the solitude of her
neighborhood at five o’clock in the morning helped calm her nerves.
 
By six o’clock, she returned home,
breathless and invigorated.
 
Walking
through the front door, she found herself greeted by Mia, who was sauntering
down the stairs, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
 

“Hi, Mommy,” Mia said groggily.
 

“Hi, Princess.”
 
Jenna walked over and hugged her
daughter.
 

Mia giggled, “Gross, Mom!
 
You’re all sweaty.”
 

Jenna laughed as she grabbed Mia tight, trapping
her.
 
Mia struggled to break free,
but to no avail.
 
Jenna kissed the
ticklish crook of Mia’s neck one last time and then hurried off to take a
shower.
 

At eight o’clock, Jenna arrived at the
hospital.
 
She only had three short
cases, and then she was free.
 
By
mid-morning, the day was going along smoothly.
 
The operating room staff was joking
around, and everyone was in good spirits.
 
Jenna allowed herself to forget about the impending lawsuit and enjoy
the banter.
 

With only one case to go, Jenna walked into
the congested preoperative area.
 
Anxious to get the case finished, she hoped to finish some Christmas
shopping before she had to pick Mia up from school.
 
Jenna was introducing herself to her
last patient when her cell phone rang.
 
She snuck a peek at the display.
 
It was Jim Taylor.
 
Jenna
excused herself and stepped into the hallway to take the call.

Jim said with remorse, “Jenna, we just got
served by Allison Anders.
 
Unfortunately, you are formally being sued.”

Jenna felt the room spin.
 
For the first time in her life, she felt
faint.
 
Her muscles went limp, and
the images around her blurred.
 
Instinctively, she dropped to the ground.
 
The floor swayed to and fro beneath her.

Two of the preop nurses rushed over.
 
The color had vanished from Jenna’s
skin, turning her a worrisome shade of gray.
 

“Dr. Reiner!
 
Are you okay?”
 
Susana, the charge nurse, shook Jenna by
the shoulders as she shouted the words.

The only thing Jenna heard was a
high-pitched ringing, and her vision slowly turned to black.
 
Someone placed a chilly, wet towel on
the back of Jenna’s neck.
 
Another
person ordered Jenna to take a sip of juice.
 
Slowly, things came back into
focus.
 
Jenna’s phone lay on the
ground, beside her.
 
A concerned
crowd of nurses and physicians encircled her.
 

The usual frenzied pace of the preop area
had come to a halt.
 
Jenna had
become quite a spectacle.
 
She
looked up at the nurses and her fellow physicians – everyone was
staring.
 
A flood of heat spread over
her face and neck.
 
Once the
onlookers saw that Jenna was okay, most went back to their own affairs.
 
Susana remained and helped Jenna to her
feet.

It took Jenna a few more seconds to realize
that the whole event had taken place directly in front of her patient’s
bay.
 

“Are you alright?” Susana asked.

Jenna could only shake her head as tears
pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill over.
 
Not wanting to create any more public
drama, she ran to the locker room and locked herself in one of the bathroom
stalls.
 
Jenna buried her head in a
mound of toilet paper, hoping to muffle the sounds of her sobs.

When she came out, Susana was waiting for
her.

Jenna covered her face with her hands.
 
“I’m so sorry.
 
I can’t do the next case.
 
That patient saw and heard everything.
 
I need to get out of here.”

Susana put her arms around Jenna.
 
“Take the staircase.
 
I grabbed your stuff from the OR, so you
don’t have to go back.
 
Don’t worry
about the next case.
 
I’ll call your
office and tell them you’re sick.
 
Now go.”

“Thank you,” Jenna mouthed.

Grabbing her bag, Jenna bolted out of the
hospital and drove directly to the offices of Moore and Everett.
 

On the drive, she called Tom.
 
They both knew this was coming, but the
reality sucked the air from Jenna’s lungs.
 
Tom could hardly understand what his wife was saying through her sobs
and erratic breathing.
 
Ultimately,
Tom got the gist of what had transpired, and he instantly felt his wife’s
pain.
 

“Just call me when you’re done.
 
Drive carefully, and don’t worry about
Mia.
 
I’ll make sure she’s taken
care of.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.
 
Jenna then hung up and parked.
 
She marched into her lawyers’ building
and rode the elevator up to their offices.
 
This would be the first meeting with her attorneys that really mattered.

CHAPTER 26

Jenna was directed to take a seat in the
waiting area next to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
 
She walked over and reflected on the
city below.
 
The scene was so pretty.
 
The city was dusted in snow and decked
out in holiday lights and decorations.
 
It dawned on her that she had planned to spend the afternoon shopping
for gifts for Mia, not here discussing how her life was falling apart.
 
It made her feel violated and
resentful.
 

A single, involuntary tear slid down Jenna’s
cheek.
 
Inconspicuously, she wiped
it away.
 
She could cry all the way
home and all night long if she needed, but not here.

Soon, Jim and Nancy arrived in the
lobby.
 
They spotted their client
motionless, with her body pressed against the window.
 

Not wanting to startle her, Jim spoke
softly, “Jenna?”
 

She drew in a large breath and turned around
to face her attorneys.
 
It was
evident to both of them that she was terrified.
 
They approached and shook Jenna’s hand.
 
Nancy caught Jenna off guard as she
moved in close and gave her a quick, reassuring hug.
 

The threesome went back into the conference
room and sat down.
 
Jim handed Nancy
and Jenna a stack of documents and kept an identical set for himself.

Reading the top page, Jenna felt like she
had been punched in the midsection.
 
She fought for oxygen as her heart fluttered.
 
The words felt like knives, piercing
through her soul.
 
On the top of the
first page, in black and white, there were allegations she could never erase,
never make go away.
 
“Plaintiff:
Michelle Hollings v. Defendants: St. Augustine Hospital and Jenna Reiner,
M.D.”
 
She was officially a
“Defendant.”