Authors: James Patterson
Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #General, #Suspense, #antique
The 5th Horseman (24 page)
“You’ve heard testimony about the twenty people who died painful, senseless deaths because they came to Municipal Hospital.
“It’s sickening and it’s outrageous. And the management of Municipal Hospital is fully to blame. Because they really don’t give a damn about their patients. They care about the bottom line.”
O’Mara paced in front of the jury box, put her hands on the railing, her eyes connecting with the jurors as she spoke only to them.
“We heard from Dr. Garza last week,” O’Mara went on. “Dr. Garza has been head of Municipal’s emergency services for the past three years, and he doesn’t deny that during that time, the fatality rate of patients admitted through the ER has gone through the roof.
“And Dr. Garza told us why that happened. He said, ‘Sometimes a bad wind blows.’
“Ladies and gentlemen, there’s no such thing as a ‘bad wind’ in a hospital. But there is bad medicine. The legal term is ‘operating below the standard of practice.’
“That’s what malpractice is.
“When I asked Dr. Garza if he had anything to do with those patients’ deaths, he said, ‘I take the Fifth.’
“Imagine. He declined to answer because he didn’t want to incriminate himself!
“Wasn’t that an answer in itself? Of course it was.”
No one coughed or seemed even to breathe. O’Mara pushed on, looking at each of the jurors in turn.
“This isn’t a criminal case. No one’s going after Dr. Garza for a crime, even though he made this bizarre self-incrimination.
“But we are asking you to hold Municipal Hospital responsible for this ‘bad wind.’
“We are asking you to punish Municipal for putting profit over the well-being of its patients.
“And we are asking you to award my clients fifty million dollars, a sum that will hurt the hospital, even though it can’t begin to make up for the loss of those twenty precious lives.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this hospital must be stopped from practicing Russian-roulette medicine — and you can stop them.
“Ask yourselves, if someone you loved was ill or injured, would you want them to go to Municipal Hospital?
“Would you want to go there yourself? Would you even consider it after what you’ve heard?
“Please carry that thought with you into the jury room — and find in favor of my clients, and those they have lost at Municipal. Award them the maximum amount of damages. On their behalf, I thank you.”
Womans Murder Club 5 - The 5th Horseman
Chapter 104
YUKI WAITED IN THE LONG LINE outside the ladies’ room. Her arms folded, chin tucked down, she was thinking how powerfully she’d felt O’Mara’s closing, and she was asking herself again why she hadn’t dragged her mother out of Municipal before Garza, that bastard, killed her.
The line moved so slowly that by the time Yuki entered the washroom, there were only moments left before court was due to resume.
Quickly, she turned on the cold water faucet, splashed water on her face. Then she reached blindly for the paper towels.
She patted her face dry and opened her eyes to see Maureen O’Mara in front of the mirror touching up her makeup.
Yuki was happily surprised to see O’Mara.
She congratulated her on her closing argument and introduced herself, saying, “I’m with Duffy and Rogers, but I’m here because my mom died recently at Municipal.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” O’Mara said, nodding; then she cut her eyes back to the mirror.
Yuki recoiled at the rebuff. A half second later she realized that O’Mara was probably absorbed, bracing for Kramer’s closing.
Worrying about the jury.
Yuki wadded up her paper towel and tossed it into the trash container, taking another look at O’Mara, both in the round and in her reflected image in the glass.
Maureen O’Mara’s suit was splendid. Her teeth were bleached, and her glorious hair had that seamless glow usually only seen in shampoo commercials. The woman takes care of herself, Yuki thought, and that observation irritated her for some reason.
She had a thought about how she hadn’t had her own hair cut in months and had been alternating every other day between one of two dark-blue business suits. It was just easier to dress automatically.
Since her mother died, how she looked just didn’t seem to matter.
Beside her, O’Mara blotted her lipstick, flicked a stray hair from her collar, and, without another look at Yuki, left the bathroom.
A broad woman in a pinstriped suit asked Yuki if she minded, she had to reach across her to use the soap.
“Sure, no problem.”
Yuki stepped back from the sink, thinking, So what if Maureen O’Mara was a somewhat pampered bitch?
She still wanted her to win.
She wanted her to win big.
Womans Murder Club 5 - The 5th Horseman
Chapter 105
LAWRENCE KRAMER STRAIGHTENED his papers as the judge took the bench and the bailiff called the court to order.
He felt strong, and he was eager to begin, glad that he’d gone for his five-mile run that morning, using that uninterrupted oasis of time to review his closing once again.
He was ready.
If it hadn’t been for that ass, Garza, he would have no doubt about how the verdict would go. That jerk-off was going to lose his job over this. But it would be small consolation if they lost.
Kramer stood as the judge called his name. He buttoned his midnight-blue suit jacket and greeted the jury warmly, as if he’d known them for years.
“There’s a big difference between human error and malpractice,” Kramer said, setting the tone for his closing.
“Think about what it’s like inside an emergency room. People coming in off the street, the sick and wounded, victims of falls, car accidents, people who are traumatized and sometimes can’t even speak.
“Think about the speed in which lifesaving decisions must be made even though the doctors don’t know the patients, don’t have their medical history in hand, and don’t have time to do exhaustive tests.
“When a doctor has to move quickly to save a life, he often has to make a judgment call.
“This is what I mean.
“A sixty-five-year-old woman, like your mother or mine, comes into the ER with a transient ischemic attack. It’s a small stroke and an arrhythmic heartbeat at the same time, and if not treated, she could die.
“One doctor decides to treat the condition with a blood thinner to break up the blood clot.
“Another doctor might decide that what’s best for that patient is to put in a pacemaker right away.
“That’s a judgment call.
“And either way, the decision that doctor makes carries risk; the patient could die in surgery or the patient could die from medication—”
“Kramer! I’m talking to you. You son of a bitch. You scum. Trivializing my son’s death.”
A man a few rows back from the defense table was on his feet, yelling at the top of his voice. It was Stephen Friedlander, father of the boy who had died from an insulin shot meant for his discharged roommate.
Friedlander’s face was gray and mottled, his muscles rigid as he stabbed his finger repeatedly at Kramer.
“Fuck you,” he said to Kramer.
Then he spun toward the defense table, jabbed his finger at each of the three attorneys on Kramer’s team, two young men and a woman, their faces blank with shock. “Fuck you! Fuck you! And fuck you!”
The judge shouted to the bailiff, “Hold him. That man’s in contempt,” even as Kramer appealed to the judge.
“Your Honor! She’s using shock tactics. Plaintiffs’ counsel orchestrated this stunt.”
O’Mara shot back, “This is my doing? Are you crazy?”
“Both of you. In my chambers,” Bevins growled.
Kramer heard a woman scream! He turned in time to see Friedlander’s face contort, the blood leave his face. The man was obviously in trouble, gasping in short, hard breaths, reaching out his arms. He clutched at the screaming woman beside him before falling across her lap, then spilling out onto the hard stone floor.
“Call the paramedics,” Bevins yelled to a security guard. “Court is adjourned until two p.m. Bailiff, escort the jurors to the jury room.”
Pandemonium ensued.
Kramer saw a man in glasses, a reporter for the Chicago Tribune, charge the fire exit, stiff-arming the lock-release bar on the door.
The high-decibel alarm on the door screamed as the EMS team clattered up the stairs and entered the courtroom.
Womans Murder Club 5 - The 5th Horseman
Chapter 106
CINDY FELT JUMPY AND DISTRACTED as court resumed, the whole terrifying Friedlander scene repeating through her mind on a short loop: the cursing and screaming, the poor man collapsing, the shrill shriek of the alarm as her new friend, Whit Ewing of the Chicago Tribune, had crashed through the emergency exit.
The judge banged his gavel, and the rustle of whispers across the public gallery quieted.
“For the record,” Bevins said, “I’ve questioned each member of the jury individually, and I’m satisfied that their judgment of this case won’t be affected by the incident this morning.”
He looked over to the defense table. “Mr. Kramer, are you ready to continue?”
“I am, Your Honor.” Kramer walked to the lectern, his genial smile looking forced.
Cindy leaned forward in her seat, put her hand on Yuki’s thin shoulder. She whispered, “Here we go.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kramer said. “I have a note here that Mr. Friedlander has been treated and is expected to recover fully from his heart attack.
“My clients and I feel very badly for him. The man lost his son, and he’s in a lot of pain right now.
“But as badly as we all feel, your charge as jurors is to decide this case based on the facts, not on emotions.
“I said earlier that it’s important to distinguish between mistakes and medical malpractice.
“It’s a mistake when a nurse mixes up medicine on a tray, or a doctor gets distracted by another emergency and forgets to mark up a chart, so the patient gets medicated again. Those are mistakes.
“Malpractice is gross negligence. For instance. And for your information, these are all real cases that I’m mentioning.
“A doctor leaves a patient on the operating table while he runs out to make a bank deposit.
“Or a surgical towel is left inside a patient’s body.
“A doctor treats a patient while drunk or on drugs, or withholds treatment because of a bias against a patient or a class of patients. Or knowingly recommends treatment the patient doesn’t need.
“That’s gross negligence. That’s malpractice.”
Kramer pushed off from the lectern and approached the jury, pacing before the railing as he spoke to them.
“It’s terrible what happened to the people cited in this action. I don’t have to tell you that. You know it already.
“But in every one of the situations you’ve heard about in this courtroom, doctors and nurses, and even the patients themselves, made the kind of errors that happen in hospitals all across this country, every day.
“Human errors. Honest mistakes.
“As much as we’d like to believe that doctors are infallible, that’s an unreasonable expectation.
“Doctors and nurses are human beings who want to help other people and try their damnedest to do it.
“Last year one hundred and fifty thousand patients came through Municipal Hospital’s doors with injuries and illnesses. And they received excellent medical care, as good as they would get at any hospital in this city.
“I’m asking you to strip away my opponent’s inflammatory rhetoric and focus on the difference between mistakes and malpractice, and find in favor of Municipal Hospital.
“The city of San Francisco, our city, needs this hospital.”
Womans Murder Club 5 - The 5th Horseman
Chapter 107
YUKI STOOD WITH CINDY in the corridor outside of courtroom 4A, their backs against the cold marble wall as the courtroom emptied.
Cindy was excited, the reporter in her pumped up, asking, “So, what did you think?”
A group of lawyers for the defense and hospital execs passed by, talking about the trial. An old fox in gray tweed was saying, “Thank God for Kramer. Great recovery on his part. That guy’s a superstar.”
Almost on their heels, O’Mara and her retinue proudly strode down the hallway. O’Mara’s face was impassive as she reached the elevator, the door opening as if it had been expecting her.
“Yuki?” Cindy asked again. “Your professional opinion. How do you think the jury’s going to decide?”
Yuki heard the anxiety in Cindy’s voice, saw her tracking the lawyers with her eyes, and knew that Cindy wanted to get into the action on the courthouse steps.
“Both sides did extremely well, made a hell of a case,” Yuki said. “You know, there’s no ‘reasonable doubt’ in a civil case. They’re usually decided on a ‘preponderance of evidence.’ So each juror will have their own definition of pre—”
“You can’t even guess?”
“It’s a coin toss, Cindy. The jury could even hang.”
Cindy thanked her, said she’d catch up with her later, then made for the stairs, running.
Yuki waited for the next elevator, got in, and watched the numbers light from four to one.
Then she exited into the lobby, passed the circular security desk, and stepped out into the brisk October air.
There were two thick scrums of reporters outside the courthouse, one pack around Larry Kramer, the other around Maureen O’Mara, shoving microphones in their faces, feeding picture and sound to satellite vans parked on McAllister.
No matter what the outcome, both Kramer and O’Mara were getting a huge media boost that money couldn’t buy.
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