“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.”
“The 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.
“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.”
