Blood Money

“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.”

“Look at the next highlighted line. Could you read that aloud, please?”

Her hand was shaking. It took her a moment to steady the paper and read it. “It says ‘Apnea-as reported by mother.’”

The judge interrupted. “Counsel, do you intend to go through each and every one of these records? It’s quite a stack.”

“My point is almost made,” Gaines said. “Let me get straight to the bottom line. Mrs. Laramore, turn to the page that is flagged by the yellow Post-it, about two-thirds of the way down your stack of records there.”

Jack followed along with copies.

“Can you tell the court what this is?” asked Gaines.

“It’s a blood test report.”

“Blood test for your daughter, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Would you read the highlighted portion of the box at the bottom of the report, please?”

Jack glanced at his own page. He saw the answer that Mrs. Laramore finally uttered: “High concentration of diuretic,” said Mrs. Laramore.

“The blood test confirmed that someone was giving your daughter a high dose of a diuretic, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Had any doctor prescribed a diuretic?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“In fact, that would have been a really stupid thing to prescribe, wouldn’t it, for a child who had presented to the emergency room for dehydration”-he paused to check his notes-“eleven times?”

“That wouldn’t be smart, no.”

“And yet someone,” he said, his voice taking on an edge, “was giving your daughter diuretics.”

“According to the blood test, yes.”

He moved closer, tightening his figurative grip on the witness. “Mrs. Laramore, you’re aware, are you not, that excessive use of diuretics can cause long QT syndrome?”

“Objection,” Jack shouted.

“Sustained.”

“That’s fine,” said Gaines. “If the court wishes, we can bring in a dozen doctors who will testify to that fact.”

“The court wishes you to ask your next question.”

“Yes, Judge. Mrs. Laramore, doctors have told you, have they not, that your daughter’s heart condition was caused by excessive use of diuretics?”

“Objection.”

“No, I’m going to allow that one,” said the judge. “It’s a different question.”

The witness shifted uneasily. “Yes. Doctors have told me that.”

There was a murmur across the courtroom, as if the observers sensed that Gaines had truly scored.

Gaines took another step closer, his voice rising. “Mrs. Laramore, you gave your daughter those diuretics, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“You caused her long QT syndrome.”