Next day, the first to be sworn in was Dr. Kerry Weaver. She avoided looking at Doug, and Doug avoided looking at her. If he did, he'd just get more angry and he wasn't sure if he could take much more of the rage that was already bubbling inside him, like a volcano about to blow. All he could hope was that he would manage to keep it down until he got home that night. He'd go to the park and take it all out in a basketball game, or play some racquetball…except, he suddenly realised, who would he play with? Strictly speaking, he was still "with" Carol, but she'd pushed him away over all this. Mark, well he was out of the question. They were the only two from the hospital associating with him right now, and they were barely doing that. From nowhere, he became conscious of the small circles that his life moved in. What now, after he'd seemingly ousted them from his life? Well, he thought, that may not be a problem. After all, at this rate, you can make some real good friends in prison.
He was jolted out of his reverie by DeVann, who had scraped his chair back (and caused many to wince at the noise) and raised an objection.
"Where is the prosecution going with this? It seems that we've been through all this before, Your Honour."
Doug sat up a bit. He'd been away in his thoughts and wasn't sure what DeVann was referring to. Judge Lomak looked at the assistant US attorney. "Well?"
"Your Honour, the prosecution is trying to build up an image of Dr. Ross's behaviour in the past."
'Oh great', thought Doug.
"To be honest, Counsellor, I think I have a good idea of that already, and the jury are already asleep so I doubt that pressing Dr. Weaver much further will be beneficial to any of us. Did you have any other questions for the witness?"
"Uh, no Your Honor." 'Good lord', thought Doug. The guy is actually blushing.
"Defense?"
"No, Your Honor"
"In that case, witness is dismissed. Call your next witness please."
Inwardly, Doug laughed. Kerry was going to be pissed that she didn't get her say in his downfall.
"The prosecution calls Richard Abbott."
Mr. Abbott rose from behind the desk he was sitting at with his team of lawyers. He walked dutifully up to the witness box and was sworn in. Despite the fact that Doug could never forgive him for what he was doing here, he could now see the father behind the hard exterior. This was just another parent who had lost his son. What was he trying to do with this court case? Win his son back? It came to Doug that maybe, just maybe, Mr. Abbott wasn't that far removed from himself. He couldn't imagine losing a child of his own, but losing someone near to him…well, he was getting better at recognising his behaviour now and he was pretty sure he'd either go out of his mind or go and beat up on someone. And that was more or less what Mr. Abbott was doing now – but maybe in a more controlled manner.
"Mr. Abbott. Your son, Ricky, how old was he when he died?"
"He was 10."
"And he suffered from Adrenal Leukodystrophy?"
"Yes."
"As did his brother before him?"
"Yes. His brother died of it a few years ago. Ricky was quite young when it happened."
"And of course that means you'd been through the pain of losing a son once before."
"Yes."
"What would you give to have one more day, one more hour with your first son, Mr. Abbott?"
"Everything. There are so many things that were left unsaid, and one more day would have meant the world to me."
"Is this the way you feel about Ricky too?"
"Of course. I never even got to say goodbye to him."
"Could you tell us what happened on the day Ricky died?"
"Objection! Your Honour, how could Mr. Abbott know the full details of that day when he was not present for it all?"
"Sustained."
"Mr. Abbott, can you tell us what you found when you went to see Ricky on the 16th February?"
"I went up to Ricky's room and found him in his bed, strapped to all these machines, as he normally was, except there was a new one which I could see was administering something called Dilaudid. Joi…Ricky's mother…she was sitting by the bed looking at him, and he was all screwed up because of the pain he had been in. But he was really cold, and when I touched his cheek, Joi started crying and I knew he was dead. She started saying something about a doctor helping Ricky and that's when I called 911 to get him to the hospital. She told me on the way there that Dr. Ross, " he pointed at Doug, "had given her this machine and the code to put Ricky to sleep so he wouldn't feel any more pain."
Doug very nearly lost it. He had to hang on to the last bit of self-control he had just to stay seated with his mouth shut. The guy was lying under oath! Now it was going to be his word against Mr. Abbott's, and no-one was ever going to believe him, thanks to the damage done by Bernstein, Mark and whatever Kerry had said before she'd been removed. Why wasn't his idiot lawyer doing something about it? This wasn't fair. Behind him, Carol shifted a little.
"What happened when you arrived at the hospital?"
'He'll probably tell them I punched HIM now', Doug thought.
"They tried to revive Ricky, but it seemed it was too late to save him," he took a deep breath, "and I found out that it was Dr. Ross that had treated my son, and, well, I hit him." He looked down at his feet. He might as well have cried for the jury – Doug was surprised his lawyers hadn't pep-talked him into it.
"Why did you hit him, Mr Abbott?"
"Because I was angry. I was grief stricken – I'd just lost my little boy and I needed to lash out. But also because he'd killed Ricky."
"Objection," Thank god the guy was awake, "Witness is assuming the defendant's guilt."
"Sustained – members of the jury, please disregard the last statement. Mr. Abbott, please be more careful"
"Sorry, Your Honor."
"Mr. Abbott. Your son's disease…Adrenal Leukodystrophy. This is a fatal disease that only affects boys and leads to inevitable death – no-one has ever lived beyond the age of 12, is that right?"
"That's correct."
"And this disease, it attacks the body systems so that the victims are unable to move or speak in the later stages?"
"Yes. Ricky couldn't get around himself from the age of about 9…when he died he wasn't able to speak."
"He couldn't speak??"
"No."
"So he was not able to communicate at all?"
"Well, his mother says she could tell what he wanted, but I don't know how because Ricky couldn't move at all – he had no means of communication."
"Mr. Abbott, do you think Ricky wanted to die?"
"No. Ricky didn't want to die."
"Objection, Your Honor! If Ricky couldn't communicate, then how can Mr Abbott be so sure that he didn't want to die??"
Before His Honor could say anything, Counsellor Sullivan turned.
"Well that would be exactly the question wouldn't it? After all, if Mr. Abbott can't be sure that his own flesh and blood wanted to die, how can some strange doctor know that he did want to die??"
"Order in court!!" Judge Lomak was not happy. "Counsel, approach the bench."
Oh boy, he totally walked into that, Doug despaired to himself. He rubbed an eye with the heel of his palm, head bent forward.
After some angry murmuring, the two attorneys returned to their places – Clifton DeVann back to his chair chewing his pen frustratedly, and Sullivan in front of the witness box.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Abbott. No further questions."
He strode back to his seat. DeVann rose from his chair once more.
"Mr. Abbott, you said that your son's disease was ultimately fatal."
"Yes, I did."
"So, Ricky would have died eventually, irrespective of anything else?"
"Well of course, I just said that didn't I?"
DeVann put his hands up and raised his eyebrows, giving it a moment for dramatic emphasis.
"How long did your son have left to live before he, um…before he died?"
Oh God, good one Clifton, Doug berated.
"You mean before, uh, " Mr. Abbott nodded in Doug's direction.
"Before he…" Clifton stumbled, trying to find the right word.
The crash of the gavel made more than a few people in the room jump.
"Move on, Counsellor DeVann. You've dug yourself a hole that I don't want to sit around listening to you trying to get out of."
"I, ahem…what was your son's life expectancy on the 16th February?"
"He was expected to last maybe another day as far as we knew, probably more like hours."
"Was he in much pain, as far as it was possible to tell?"
"I guess so – he was on high doses of painkillers."
"You guess so? Why do you say that, Mr. Abbott?"
"I, uh. I don't know, it's a phrase…"
"Don't you mean something more along the lines of 'I'm not really sure'?"
Mr. Abbott looked confused and flicked a glance at his attorneys, who looked just as mystified as him.
"Well, um, I…I'm sorry, I don't really understand the question."
"Why wouldn't you have known how much pain your son may have been in?"
"Because he couldn't communicate it?"
"Aside from the obvious, please Mr. Abbott. What you really mean is that you didn't see that much of your son to really know him, did you?"
"Objection!! Defense is trying to suggest witness was a bad father!"
"I don't think he was implying that - were you implying that, Mr. DeVann?"
"No, Your Honor. I was merely querying how much time he spent with his son."
"Objection overruled."
"How often did you see Ricky?"
"I saw him every other weekend."
"Out of choice?"
"It was in the custody settlement after the divorce between Ricky's mother and myself."
"Are you sure Mr. Abbott? It says here," Clifton waved a piece of official looking paper around, "that you had visiting rights for every weekend. Not every other weekend. Surely you would take these opportunities to see your son?"
Mr. Abbott cleared his throat and said nothing.
"Why didn't you visit your son, Richard? If he only had a few weeks left, why didn't you go and see him the weekend before he died?"
"I…I was busy. I had a work arrangement."
"Are you sure? Don't forget, you are under oath."
"I'm sure."
"Okay…but you didn't see Ricky very often, is that fair to say?"
"Yes."
"So, would it be possible to put it to you that maybe Dr. Ross here, with his full medical qualifications, who had spent the better part of 14 days treating your son – even taking time out of his social hours to visit Ricky at home – would know how he felt more than you did??"
Mr. Abbott, red in the face through anger, said nothing but stared at the lawyer before him and at Doug behind the lawyer. His own team, looking at each other surreptitiously, decided that maybe they could object in a hope of getting away from the question.
"Objection! Defense is talking in hypotheticals."
"Counselor, need I point out your own line of prosecution earlier on today? Sit down and shut up."
'This guy is a real hard-ass', thought Doug. And I like it!
"Mr. Abbott, will you please answer the question."
The man remained silent, glowering in his witness box, dropping his head when he could face DeVann no longer. He still said nothing.
"Mr. Abbott? Was there a chance Dr. Ross knew your sons final needs better than you did?"
The silence was the heaviest that anyone in the courtroom had ever felt.
"It is possible." The whisper came.
"Thank you. No further questions, Your Honor."
The room rumbled with scattered whispers.
"The prosecution calls Dr. Douglas Ross."

 

Triggersaurus 2001