“Chief,” Chandler said, trying to get a word in so that he could end the conversation. “Chief, I’ve got to go.”
“It’s captain!”
“If you want me to be on that plane, I need to get off the phone. I have leads to follow up on before I leave.”
Hennessy made some comment about Chandler caring more about his case out West than he did about those that he was being paid to work on by the City of New York.
Chandler agreed, not listening to what Hennessy was saying, and hung up. It was then that he realized that Valerie was right, he never should have bothered. Then again, this confrontation with Hennessy was no different than any other conversation they’d had over the years.
CHAPTER 43
Maurice Mather was a relative newcomer to television news reporting, with only three years of on-the-job training to his credit. But eagerness was molded into his tanned face. And while serving as a copy editor, he had learned aggressiveness from his mentor. A good reporter does not always take “no” for an answer: he does what’s necessary to obtain the story he’s after.
A precondition for this interview with hospital administrator John Stevens, however, was that it would have to be held off-camera. While this obviously did not present a problem for a newspaper reporter, it strained the patience of their television counterparts, who relied on the visual aspect of their presentation as much as the verbal information they conveyed.
“This is Tom Ingle, a copy editor and trainee at the station,” Mather said, introducing his assistant, a curly- haired twenty-five-year-old. Ingle and Stevens nodded at each other.
“So what do you want to know?” Stevens asked.
“I want to know why Phil Madison was kicked out of your hospital.”
“Dr. Madison was not kicked out. His privileges were temporarily suspended.”
“Why?”
Stevens shifted in his seat. “It was an upper-level management decision.”
“Does it have anything to do with the rape charges against him?”
“Rape charges?” Stevens sat forward in his chair. “What are you talking about?”
“The rape charges,” Mather said again, as if repeating it would stimulate Stevens’s memory. “Say two or three months ago. The charges he tried to sweep under the rug by paying off the woman who brought the complaint.”
Stevens was silent for a moment, staring off at the wall behind the reporters.
“Dr. Stevens,” Mather said. “Does it or does it not have to do with those rape charges?”
He cleared his throat. “I have no comment, other than to say that this is an unrelated matter.”
“Then this is solely a means of distancing the hospital from a murderer, severing a relationship before it becomes more damaging than the association already is.”
Stevens crinkled his face and squirmed a bit. Ingle was scribbling notes on a pad. “Phillip Madison is not a murderer.”
“Assuming you’re correct, let me rephrase the question. The action the hospital board has taken is intended to distance the hospital from an accused murderer, severing a relationship before it becomes even more damaging than it’s already been. Isn’t that right, Dr. Stevens?”
Stevens’s head bobbed back and forth, left and right.
“Essentially.”
More scribbling. “Do you feel that Madison is capable of committing murder?”
“I can’t speak for the actions of another,” Stevens said cautiously, playing the role of administrator and bureaucrat. “But I can tell you that Dr. Madison is one of the finest human beings you’ll ever meet: I’ve never known him to hurt a fly. He’s also responsible for building this hospital into what it is-a valued teaching institution with state-of-the-art equipment and an expert staff of distinguished surgeons. He’s dedicated his life to saving people, not killing them.”
“Would you say that one’s actions in the past are an indication of what their actions will be in the future?” asked Ingle, the rookie, trying hard to contribute.
“As I said, no one can guarantee the actions of another. To do so would be like trying to predict the stock market. It’s just not possible to do with any degree of accuracy.”
“What about the hospital’s exposure on Madison’s arrest?”
“What about it? We had nothing to do with the murders.”
“Could it be said that the hours you force surgeons to work, the stress these doctors are under, results in a high degree of alcoholism, of driving while under the influence?”
“Do you really think I’m going to answer such an absurd allegation?”
“Statistics don’t lie, Dr. Stevens. The rate of alcoholism, and even drug abuse amongst surgeons, is quite high compared to the general-”
“If you’re going to persist in this line of questioning, Mr. Mather, then this interview is over.”
“Fine. I’ll move on.” He looked down at his pad.
“A question if I may, Maurice.” This from Ingle.
Mather waved him on.
“Dr. Stevens, you acted as if you didn’t know of the rape charges against Dr. Madison.”
“I have no comment on that.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“You can take it just as I answered the question.”
“Then you didn’t know of the payoff he made to the woman to keep her quiet.”
“I’ll have to answer that question the same way as I answered your last question.”
Ingle scribbled some notes.
“How long have you known Madison?” Mather asked.
“About thirteen years. We started out at the hospital together.”
“Would you consider him your friend?”
“Yes, I would.”
“And would you say that you would go out of your way to protect your friend?”
“Mr. Mather…yes, I would go out of my way to assist a friend in need. But that does not mean I’d go so far as to do anything that would impair my job as a hospital administrator, nor would I do anything that would jeopardize this hospital in any manner. Now, I believe this interview is over. Gentlemen,” he said, as he stood from behind his desk and walked over to the door.
After they exited his office, Mather began walking at a fast clip. “We’ll have Andy get some footage of the hospital interior, and a few seconds of Stevens’s door as we try to open it, and then have it close hard on the camera. It dramatizes the way we were shut out from filming the interview.”
“But he was pretty cooperative, he just didn’t want to go on-camera.”
“That,” Mather said with a grin that could sour milk, “will turn out to be a mistake.”
The mobile van sat parked in front of the hospital with its antenna telescoping into the sky fifteen feet. The camera was mounted on a tripod just to the left and in front of the hospital’s main entrance. A small television monitor sat below the tripod on the floor, as they set up for a live remote shot for the noon newscast. Ingle was helping Andy, the cameraman, set up the shot while Maurice Mather stood with his lapel microphone in place, his handwritten notes on a small pad in front of him.
“Minute thirty out,” Andy said as he pressed the headset radio against his ear. Mather looked into the camera and practiced a few lines from his pad. “How did ‘we sound?” he asked into the mike, listening through his earpiece to the director back at the station. “Testing, one-two-three,” he said.
“They’re not getting us,” Andy said. “Your mike’s dead.”
“Do we have another?”
