Authors: James Grippando
W
e should send her to New Jersey,” said Theo.
Jack was back at his house on Key Biscayne with Theo and his grandmother. Immediately after finding the threat from Merselus on the back of the
JUSTICE FOR SALE
sign, Jack had put Theo on an airplane to bring
Abuela
back to Miami.
“New Jersey?” said Jack. He was standing in the kitchen, and Theo was seated on one of the barstools at the granite counter.
Abuela
was in the bathroom. “Why New Jersey?”
“It’s where they film that show that’s all over the Internet—
Shit Abuelas Say
. She’d be awesome.”
“Theo, I can’t begin to count the number of reasons why that would be a bad idea.”
“Half serious, remember?”
“Got it.”
The toilet flushed in the bathroom down the hall. It was
Abuela’
s fourth visit since the plane had landed. That happened when she was nervous.
“Where your mop?” she asked as she entered Jack’s office.
“My map of what?”
“No
mapa.
Mop.
El baño. Ay! Dios mío.
”
“Abuela
, we have a cleaning service.”
“What they clean? Your wallet?”
“New Jersey,” said Theo, his voice rising.
Jack ignored him. “Sit, please.”
Theo helped her up onto the barstool beside him. Jack came closer to the counter, leaning toward her. “I know all this back and forth from Tampa to Miami must seem really crazy to you, but I don’t want you to worry. You’ll be safe here.”
“I stay here with you?”
“Yeah. I talked it over with Andie, and that’s the best thing.”
She smiled.
“Bueno.”
There was a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” said Theo, but when he got up, his foot caught on the stool. It sounded like a multicar pileup on I-95 as he and the stool hit the tile floor, but Theo was okay. He crossed the living room and opened the door. It was the neighbor’s son, RJ.
“Hi, Max!” RJ shouted.
Max lifted his head. He’d slept through the multicar pileup in the kitchen, but he was suddenly wide awake and barking as if he had smelled RJ approaching a block away from the house.
“That’s some watchdog you’ve got there,” said Theo.
Max was all over RJ, and they went down for a wrestling match on the floor. RJ quickly had the upper hand. He was big for thirteen, a force on the middle school basketball court in his size-twelve shoes, and Jack regarded him as poster child for twenty-first-century Miami: Cuban on his mother’s side, Lebanese on his father’s, and his favorite food was sushi, which he’d learned to roll himself from his uncle, whose fiancée was Japanese. When Max was pinned, RJ looked at Jack and said, “We’re leaving for Charleston tomorrow. I just wanted to see what time you wanted me to pick up my travel buddy.”
Jack hesitated. The original thought had been to send
Abuela
to Tampa to stay with her brother and to send Max away for the rest of the summer with the Kayals, who rented a beach house in South Carolina every year. Jack knew RJ was going to be disappointed.
“Actually, there’s been a change of plan,” said Jack.
“Max can’t go?” said RJ.
The sadness in the boy’s voice was bad enough. The pathetic expression on Max’s face made it even worse. It was as if Mighty Casey had just struck out and they were in the heart of Mudville. Jack glanced at
Abuela
, who shot him a reproving look that seemed to say, Have you no heart? Send the dog!
“You know what?” said Jack. “Let’s just stick to the plan. I’ll have him and all his stuff ready for you tonight.”
The joy was back as RJ gave Max a bear hug, along with a quick rundown of how much fun they were going to have at the Kayal family reunion.
Abuela
seemed satisfied. Jack was going to miss his early-morning ritual with the cold black nose in his face, but it was only for a short time—until the threat against “someone you love” was lifted.
The phone rang, and Theo answered it. “It’s Hannah,” he said as he handed Jack the phone.
“What’s up?” Jack said into the phone.
“I just left the women’s detention center. They finally coughed up the visitation records that Theo asked for on Saturday. I’m going through them now.”
“Anything of interest?”
“There are a couple names on here I don’t recognize, so I’ll need to follow up on them. But what made me call are the names I
do
recognize.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there are the familiar names you would expect. Me. You. Geoffrey and Ellen Bennett. My dad. Those are all multiple visits. And then way down on the list, there’s a name that jumped out at me. Just one visit.”
“Who is it?”
“Celeste Laramore.”
Jack’s mouth opened, but no words came.
“Jack, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I thought you should know right away, especially since you have that hearing before Judge Burrows tomorrow about the
Laramore
case. I thought it could be important.”
Now, there’s an understatement.
“Thanks, Hannah,” said Jack. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
S
core one for us.
Jack wasn’t keeping a blow-by-blow score in his head, but Tuesday morning’s hearing in the civil case against BNN was definitely going his way. It began with the loss of credibility BNN suffered when Ted Gaines requested that television cameras be allowed at the hearing.
“Let me get this straight, Mr. Gaines,” said Judge Burrows. “Before the plaintiffs even filed their case, you rushed into my courtroom and persuaded me to enter a gag order that prohibited them from discussing the case publicly, correct?”
“That’s correct,” said Gaines. “These scandalous allegations against the news-gathering practices of my client would cause irreparable harm to BNN’s reputation and standing.”
“I understand that argument,” said the judge. “And I also understand that just a matter of hours after those allegations appeared on Celeste Laramore’s Facebook page, you filed a motion to dismiss the case with prejudice as a sanction for violating that order. Also correct?”
“Yes, sir,” said Gaines. “For twice violating that order.”
“But you want today’s hearing to be open to the public and broadcast on television. Do I have that right?”
“Yes, Judge,” said Gaines. “The reality is that once these allegations appeared on the Internet, there was no way to undo the damage. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube, as the saying goes.”
Gaines continued with a forceful First Amendment speech about the public’s right to know, but the judge was no fool, and BNN’s flip-flop was no less galling. For the first time, Jack felt momentum on his side. It made Jack lead with an argument that he hadn’t planned on making.
“I would ask the court to reconsider its earlier determination that my clients were responsible for the Facebook postings,” said Jack.
“On what grounds?” the judge asked.
“Yesterday, in criminal court before Judge Matthews, I proffered evidence regarding an unidentified man who is obsessed with my client, Sydney Bennett. That man has threatened me and committed other criminal acts in his effort to force me to reveal Ms. Bennett’s whereabouts to him. The proffer was made in chambers due to the sensitivity of the evidence as it relates to an active homicide investigation. I request the same opportunity in this case—to proffer evidence that this same man has tried to sabotage this case against BNN. We believe these Facebook postings are yet another way to bring harm to me, my clients, and my career in his ongoing effort to coerce me into revealing Sydney Bennett’s whereabouts.”
“Two objections,” said Gaines. “First, we have the proverbial what-has-opposing-counsel-been-smoking objection.”
The judge banged his gavel. “That’s out of order, Mr. Gaines. Your second objection had better be a good one.”
“Yes, Your Honor. This court has already ruled that the Laramores are responsible for the Facebook postings by virtue of the fact that they should have taken down the page if they couldn’t control it. Some ‘unidentified man’ doesn’t change that.”
“Mr. Gaines’ point is well taken,” said the judge. “Your request for reconsideration is denied, Mr. Swyteck.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts,’” said the judge. “The purpose of today’s hearing is to find an appropriate punishment for the violation of this court’s gag order—specifically, to determine if the lawsuit against BNN has sufficient merit to make dismissal too harsh. I want to reiterate, however, that this hearing will not become a mini-trial of
Laramore v. BNN.
There is just one issue: Even if BNN interfered with the data transmission from the ambulance, was that the legal cause of Celeste Laramore’s coma? Am I clear?”
“Yes,” said Jack.
“Good. The court will recess for twenty minutes. When we resume, the hearing will be open to the public, including television media. Mr. Swyteck, be prepared to call your first witness.”
“T
he plaintiff calls Virginia Laramore,” said Jack.
Celeste’s mother was actually the third witness. The first had been Jack’s friend and computer expert, Chuck-my-name-rhymes-with-f*** Mays—he worked cheap—who had explained how a hacker had crashed the wireless communication between the ambulance and the emergency room. Witness number two had been a cardiologist—a friend of Rene’s boyfriend, Dr. Ross. (Ross had done a one-eighty since busting Jack in the chops.) The cardiologist added an extra layer of expertise to the medical opinion that Rene had lost her life trying to share with Jack: that an uninterrupted data transmission from the ambulance would have revealed that Celeste had a heartbeat irregularity known as long QT syndrome, and doctors at the hospital could have prescribed treatment in-transit that could have prevented her from slipping into a coma.
The testimony had gone well. So well, in fact, that Jack decided to keep Mrs. Laramore’s testimony short—just enough to put a face on the case.
The bailiff swore the witness, and after brief background, Jack moved to the substance of her testimony.
“Mrs. Laramore, has your daughter ever been diagnosed with a heart abnormality?”
She was a demure figure in the witness stand. Concealer and fresh courtroom attire couldn’t hide the strain of the last nine days. Jack had told her to ignore the media, but her eyes cut across the courtroom in the direction of the television camera every few seconds. She was beyond nervous, to the point of distraction.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Mrs. Laramore,” the judge said, “you will have to speak a little louder.”
“Yes,” she said, though it wasn’t much louder. “When Celeste was five, doctors told me she had something called long QT syndrome.”
Jack remained behind the podium, leaving plenty of distance between himself and the witness, trying hard to make her feel less pressured. “I won’t ask you for a medical explanation of the condition,” he said. “We’ve already heard from a cardiologist. Is it your understanding that long QT syndrome is a kind of irregular heartbeat?”
“That’s my understanding.”
“And is this something that Celeste was treated for?”
“Yes. From time to time.”
“What kind of treatment have doctors prescribed for her in the past?”
“There are medications you can take to control the irregularity.”
“Did you give her those medications?”
“Yes. As prescribed.”
“How did she respond to those medications?”
“She was fine. No problems.”
“The medications controlled the irregular heartbeat?”
“Yes, very well.”
She held a wadded tissue in her hand, which she was squeezing into oblivion. Jack debated whether to stop right there, but he had just a couple more questions.
“Now, did Celeste’s doctors ever tell you what could happen if she did not receive medication?”
She swallowed hard, then spoke. “It could be a lot of things. She could feel dizzy. She could faint. Or, you know, worse.”
“She could go into cardiac arrest, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did any doctor ever mention the possibility of a coma?”
Her hands began to shake, and Jack regretted having put too fine a point on his question.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “It’s a whole litany of things. At the time I thought they were just trying to scare me into making sure that I was vigilant about giving her the medicine. I never thought . . . I never thought it would actually happen.”
She was at the point of breaking down. Jack had gone far enough. “No further questions, Your Honor.”
The witness rose quickly, eager to leave.
“Mr. Gaines?” said the judge. “Cross-examination?”
Mrs. Laramore stopped, and the dread on her face as she settled back into the hot seat was apparent even from where Jack was seated.
Great television, I’m sure.
“I have a few questions,” said Gaines as he approached the witness. He buttoned his coat, squared his shoulders, and stood tall. Mrs. Laramore seemed to shrink bit by bit with each tick of the clock.
“Good morning, Mrs. Laramore. Let me start by saying how sorry I am about what happened to your daughter. But I’m sure Mr. Swyteck has explained to you that it is our position that BNN did nothing to cause these tragic circumstances.”
She didn’t answer.
“Mrs. Laramore, can you tell me what long QT syndrome is?”
“It’s a heartbeat irregularity.”
“Oh, come now, you can do better than that, can’t you?”
Jack rose. “Objection. Your Honor, we’ve had medical testimony.”
Gaines said, “Mr. Swyteck asked for her understanding, Your Honor. It’s my right to explore the extent of her understanding.”
“Overruled. But let’s keep this focused.”
“Yes, Judge. Mrs. Laramore, do the best you possibly can. What is long QT syndrome?”
She took a breath, let it out, then began. “An electrocardiogram measures electrical impulses as five distinct waves. Doctors label the waves using the letters P, Q, R, S, and T. The waves labeled Q through T show electrical activity in your heart’s lower chambers. The space between the start of the Q wave and the end of the T wave—the Q-T interval—is the amount of time it takes for your heart to contract and then refill with blood before beginning the next contraction.”
Gaines nodded. “That’s pretty impressive.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“But that was probably better than most doctors could describe it.”
“She’s had it all her life. I’ve learned a lot about it.”
“You take a great deal of interest in your daughter’s medical condition, don’t you?”
“What mother doesn’t?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you take an abnormally high level of interest in your daughter’s health?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained. ‘Really’ is not a question in my courtroom, Mr. Gaines.”
“Sorry, Judge. Now, Mrs. Laramore, your daughter was taken to Jackson Memorial Hospital early Sunday morning, nine days ago. When did you get there?”
“Later that same day.”
“And how much time have you spent at the hospital since then?”
“Today is the first time I’ve set foot outside the hospital.”
“Is that so? You sleep at the hospital?”
“Yes. There’s a guest lounge right outside the ICU. I sleep on the couch.”
“And when you’re not sleeping?”
“I’m at my daughter’s side.”
“When you say you’ve never set foot outside the hospital, do you mean that literally?”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve never so much as walked out the door for some fresh air, taken a walk?”
“No. If my daughter opens her eyes or even twitches a finger, I want to be there.”
“So it’s not enough if your husband sees it.
You
have to see it.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Jack rose. “Judge, I don’t understand the relevance of this, either. I object.”
The judge leaned back, thinking. “I assume Mr. Gaines has a point.”
“I do,” said Gaines.
“Then make it. We’re getting dangerously close to lunchtime.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Mrs. Laramore, let’s go back in time a bit. When Celeste was a child, is it fair to say you were equally attentive, always at her side when she was sick?”
“I tried to be.”
“Celeste was a sick child, wasn’t she?”
“That depends on what you mean by ‘sick child.’”
Gaines walked back to the podium and picked up a file folder. “Twenty-two visits to five different emergency rooms before the age of two. I would consider that ‘sick.’ How about you?”
This kind of information would never have taken Jack by surprise if the case had proceeded to trial in the normal course. As it was, Jack was hearing it for the first time.
“May I see that, counsel?” asked the judge.
Gaines nodded. He handed a copy up to the judge and seemed more than happy to share as he gave another copy to Jack.
Gaines continued, “Judge, we obtained these medical records from the Florida Department of Children and Family Services. The name of the child has been redacted to comply with privacy laws. I would ask the witness to review them and confirm that these are, in fact, medical records for her daughter.”
The judge inspected the stack of records in his file, then looked up. “You may approach the witness, Mr. Gaines.”
Gaines took firm, deliberate steps toward the witness stand. Terror was the only word to describe the expression on Mrs. Laramore’s face as he handed her the medical file. “Take your time,” Gaines told her, “and remember you are under oath when you tell Judge Burrows whether these are your daughter’s medical records.”
Jack considered an objection, and upon seeing the papers shake violently in his client’s hand, his internal debate ended. “Judge, I object.”
“On what grounds?”
“This has nothing to do with the issue of whether BNN caused Celeste Laramore to go into a coma.”
“To the contrary,” said Gaines, “it has everything to do with it. If I could just have a few follow-up questions.”
“Objection is overruled,” said the judge. Then he leaned over the bench, looked the witness in the eye, and asked, “Mrs. Laramore, are these your daughter’s medical records?”
If she had any inclination to lie, the judge’s stare had scared her out of it. “Yes,” she said. “They are.”
“Thank you.”
It may have been Jack’s imagination, but Gaines seemed to reposition himself for a better camera angle. “Let’s walk through some of them, shall we?” said Gaines. “Start with the one right on top. How old was your daughter at that time?”
“Eight weeks.”
“She was suffering from what?”
“Severe dehydration and low blood pressure.”
“Next chart. How old?”
“Ten weeks.”
“Chief medical complaint was what?”
“Fever. Diarrhea. Vomiting.”
“If you go down to the middle of the page to the line that is highlighted, the ER nurse reported that the temperature was normal, correct? No fever?”
“That’s right.”
“Next page. Your daughter was twelve weeks old. Chief medical complaint was what?”
“Some kind of rash.”
“Some kind of rash, huh?”
“And sleep apnea.”
“Was there any verification of the apnea?”
“I don’t know.”