'And these reactions were occasionally fatal?'
'That's correct,' Dr. Simon said, pounding in the final nail of Jeffrey's coffin.
The result had been that Jeffrey and Jeffrey alone was found guilty of malpractice. Simarian, Overstreet, the hospital, and the pharmaceutical company had been exonerated. The jury awarded the Patty Owen estate eleven million dollars: nine million more than Jeffrey's malpractice coverage.
At the end of the trial, Davidson had been openly disappointed that he'd done such a good job destroying Jeffrey. Since the other defendants and their deep pockets had been exculpated, there was little chance of collecting much above and beyond Jeffrey's insurance coverage even if
Jeffrey's income was attached for the rest of his life.
For Jeffrey, the result was devastating, personally no less than professionally. His whole image of himself and his self-worth had been predicated on his sense of dedication, commitment, and sacrifice. The trial and the finding by thejury destroyed that. He even came to doubt himself.
Maybe he had used the.75% Marcaine by accident.
Jeffrey could have become depressed, but he didn't have time to submit to depression. Between the widespread news reports of Jeffrey's having
'operated under the influence' and the fierce antidrug sentiment of the times, the district attorney had felt compelled to file criminal charges.
To Jeffrey's total disbelief, he now found himself charged with murder in the second degree. It was on this charge that Jeffrey was now awaiting the jury's verdict.
Jeffrey's musings were again interrupted by the uniformed court officer as he reappeared from the judge's chamber and slipped back into the jury room.
Why were they drawing it out like this? It was torture for Jeffrey. He was plagued by an allioo-real sense of d6jA vu, since the four-day criminal trial had not gone much differently than the previous civil trial. Only this time the stakes were higher.
Losing money, even if he didn't have it, was one thing. The specter of a criminal conviction and mandatory prison term was something else entirely.
Jeffrey truly did not think he could withstand life behind bars. Whether it was due to a rational fear or an irrational phobia, he didn't know.
Regardless, he'd told Carol he'd spend the rest of his life in another country rather than face a prison term.
Jeffrey raised his eyes to the empty judge's bench. Two days previously, the judge had charged the jury before they'd retired for their deliberations. Some of the judge's words reverberated in Jeffrey's mind and fanned his fears.
7
'Members of the jury,' Judge Janice Maloney had said, 'before you can find the defendant, Dr. Jeffrey Rhodes, guilty of second-degree murder, the
Commonwealth must have proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Patty Owen's death was caused by an act of the defendant which was imminently dangerous to another person and evinced a depraved mind, indifferent to human life.
An act is 'imminently dangerous' and 'evinces a depraved mind' if it is an act that a person of ordinary judgment would know is reasonably certain to kill or do serious bodily injury to another. It is also such an act if it comes from ill will, hatred, or harmful intent.'
It seemed to Jeffrey that the outcome of the case hinged on whether the jury believed he had taken morphine or not. If they believed he had, then they would find he had acted with harmful intent. At least that was how
Jeffrey would find if he were one of the jurors. After all, giving anesthesia was always imminently
dangerous. The only thing that distinguished it from criminal battery was the informed consent.
But the judge's words to the jury that had most threatened Jeffrey involved the part about punishment. The judge had informed the jury that even a conviction of the lesser charge of manslaughter would require her to sentence Jeffrey to a minimum of three years in prison.
Three years! Jeffrey began to perspire and feel cold at the same moment. He wiped his brow and his fingers came away damp.
'All rise!' the court officer called out, having just stepped out of the jury room. Then he stood aside. Everyone in the courtroom scrambled to his feet. Many craned their necks, hoping to get a glimmer of the verdict from the jurors' expressions when they appeared.
Preoccupied with his thoughts, Jeffrey was caught off guard by the court officer's terse announcement. He overreacted, leaping to his feet. He felt momentarily dizzy and had to lean on the defendant's table a moment for support.
As the jurors filed in, none of them made eye contact with Jeffrey. Was that a good or bad sign? Jeffrey wanted to ask Randolph but he was afraid to.
'The Honorable Judge Janice Maloney,' the court officer called out as the judge appeared from her chambers and took her seat at the bench. She arranged things on the desk in front of her, moving the water pitcher to the side. She was a thin woman with intense eyes.
'You may be seated,' the court officer called. 'Members of the jury, please remain standing.'
Jeffrey took his seat, still watching the jury. Not one of them would look at him, a fact that progressively disturbed him. Jeffrey focused on the white-haired grandmotherly figure who stood on the far left in the front row. During the trial she had frequently looked in his direction. It had been Jeffrey's intuition she'd felt some special warmth toward him. But not now. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her eyes downcast.
The clerk of the court adjusted his glasses. He was sitting at a desk just below the bench and to the right. The court recorder was directly in front of him.
'Will the defendant please stand and face the jury,' the clerk said.
Jeffrey stood up again. This time he did it slowly. Now all the jurors were staring at him. Still, their faces remained stony. Jeffrey felt his pulse hammering in his ears.
'Madam Foreperson,' the clerk called out. The foreperson was a handsome woman in her late thirties who looked professional. 'Has the jury agreed upon a verdict?'
:'Yes,' the foreperson said.
'Bailiff, please get the verdict from the foreperson,' the clerk directed.
The court officer stepped over to her and took a seemingly plain sheet of paper from her hands. Then he handed the sheet to the judge.
The judge read the note, tilting her head back to read through her bifocals. She took her time, nodded, then handed the paper to the clerk who had stood to receive it.
The clerk seemed to take his time, too. Jeffrey felt intense irritation at all this unnecessary delay as he stood facing the expressionless jurors.
The court was taunting him, mocking him with its archaic protocol. His heart was beating faster now, and his palms were sweating. There was a burning in his chest.
After clearing his throat, the clerk turned to face the jury. 'What say you, Madam Foreperson, is the defendant guilty or not guilty of the alleged complaint of second-degree murder?'
Jeffrey felt his legs tremble. His left hand leaned on the edge of the defendant's table. He wasn't specifically religious, but he found himself praying: Please, God...
'Guilty!' the foreperson called out with a clear, resonant voice.
Jeffrey felt his legs sway as the image of the courtroom momentarily swam before him. He grappled for the table with his right hand to steady himself. He felt Randolph grip his right arm.
'This is only the first round,' Randolph whispered in his ear. 'We'll appeal, just like we did the malpractice judgment.'
The clerk looked over toward Jeffrey and Randolph reprovingly, then turned back to the jury and said: 'Madam Foreperson and members of the jury, harken to your verdict as recorded by the court. The jurors upon their oath do say that the defendant is guilty as charged in said complaint. So say you, Madam FoTeperson?'
:'Yes,' the forelady said.
'So say you, members of the jury?' the clerk asked.
