Wrongful Death: The AIDS Trial
Page 37
Chapter Thirty
“Mrs. Monterey-Adams, with all due respect, may I simply call you Mrs. Adams, or Dr. Adams?”
“At one point early on in our marriage, Mr. Messick, I detested being called simply ‘Mrs. Adams.’ But today, it’s different. And I don’t use the prefix Doctor.”
Messick takes that as permission. “Thank you. Mrs. Adams, please tell the court who your husband was.”
“My husband was Arvel Adams.”
“And just in case there's someone who doesn't recognize that name right away...”
“Arvel Adams was a professional tennis player.”
“In fact, your husband was ranked #1 in the world at one point, wasn’t he, Mrs. Adams? He was the first African-American to be ranked #1 in the world and also the first African-American ever picked for a U.S. Davis Cup team, wasn't he? He won three Grand Slam singles titles: the U.S. Open, the Australian Open, and Wimbledon. And he was inducted into the Tennis Hall of Fame in 1985. Is that not right?”
“Those are a few of his accomplishments, yes.”
Messick had debated a long time about calling Mrs. Adams as a witness. He didn’t enjoy putting widows in this position, and he knew he might even have to exert pressure on her for some of the answers he needed. But to bring her in front of this jury, a few of whom were certain to recognize the name at least, and to follow her up with his next witness, was bound to have a major impact on this case. As distasteful as it might be, he kept telling himself that 300,000 American men and women had died, and then made his choice on their behalf. Besides, he told himself, this was a strong woman in her own right, with such dignity, a brilliant and award-winning photographer, the recipient of not just one, but two honorary Doctorate of Fine Arts degrees, and perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
“So it's fair to say that your husband was a superb athlete.”
“Yes.”
“But what happened in 1988, Mrs. Adams?”
“Arvel was diagnosed as HIV-positive.”
“How did the doctors say that he had gotten HIV?”
“They said it was during a blood transfusion.”
“When would that have been?”
Mrs. Adams had been through all this so many times in the past dozen years. “In 1983, maybe a little earlier.”
“So he had lived at least five years before knowing he was HIV-positive?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever show any symptoms of having AIDS during that time?”
“Well, in 1988, he went to the hospital and they found out he had something called toxoplasmosis. It was a very rare disease.”
“But it’s not AIDS.”
“No.”
“But the toxoplasmosis was the reason they tested him and how they found out he was HIV-positive?”
“Yes.”
“So from the time he got the blood transfusion in 1983 that supposedly gave him the HIV, until 1988 when he tested positive for HIV, he did not show any symptoms of AIDS, is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Mrs. Adams, what happened to his toxoplasmosis?”
“Oh, it went away very quickly. It was not really a problem.”
“But his HIV was, wasn't it?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Mrs. Adams, in 1989, did Mr. Adams start taking AZT on the recommendation of his doctor to treat his HIV?”
“Yes, he did.”
“And after he started taking the AZT, did he then start having symptoms of AIDS?”
“It was not long after that, yes.”
“And when did he die?”
“February 6, 1993.”
“Did he continue taking AZT until the day he died?”
“Yes.”
Messick wants to give both Mrs. Adams and the jury a little break before getting to the real reason why she is there. He pretends to have trouble finding something on his table, a newspaper neatly folded to the correct page. Just before Judge Watts starts to admonish him about the time, Messick turns back to the witness, newspaper in hand.
“Mrs. Adams, I want to read you something your husband wrote in the Washington Post in October of 1992. He said, quote, ‘the confusion for AIDS patients like me is that there is a growing school of thought that HIV may not be the sole cause of AIDS, and that standard treatments such as AZT actually make matters worse,’ unquote. Did he ever confide in you that he had doubts about his AZT treatment?”
“Yes, he did.”
After watching some of the trial on TV, she was afraid this is where Messick wanted to take her. But there was nothing she could do. She wasn’t going to lie, but she would do everything in her power to minimize the damage that might be done to the AIDS charity work her husband had started before his death.
“What kept him from stopping the AZT, Mrs. Adams?”
“He was very concerned. He used to say to me, ‘But what will I tell my doctors?’ There was a lot of pressure on him to take AZT.”
“Mrs. Adams, in fairness, we should mention that your husband had heart problems, too, didn't he?”
“Yes, he had two unexpected heart surgeries, one in 1979 and one in 1983.”
“But his heart isn't what killed him, is it Mrs. Adams? That was over by 1983, and he didn’t die until 10 years later.”
“No, sir. He died from the HIV, not his heart.”
Messick jots something down quickly on his yellow pad, and then looks up again, straight into the eyes of Mrs. Adams.
“Was it the HIV he died from, Mrs. Adams, or was it the AZT he took for his HIV?”
“Objection. Asking for this witness to draw a medical conclusion.”
Crawley is standing, waving his hands, pointing at Messick, and not liking at all where this is going.
“Your Honor, Mr. Crawley wasn't on his feet objecting when Mrs. Adams just offered a medical conclusion that her husband died from HIV. I'm simply asking Mrs. Adams if she would consider a different conclusion in her own mind.”
Judge Watts is slow to answer. “Since we allowed one medical conclusion, Mr. Crawley, I'm going to allow the other as well. Mrs. Adams, you may answer the question.”
Mrs. Adams took a deep breath. She had hoped the Judge would save her. I just don’t want to say anything more than I absolutely have to.
“Please repeat the question.”
“Mrs. Adams, you said your husband died from HIV. I asked whether it might have been the AZT he died from, rather than the HIV?”
“I don't know, Mr. Messick. I’m not an M.D. I’m a Ph.D.”
“Mrs. Adams, I have to say the same thing to you I said to the Judge: you didn’t hesitate to draw a medical conclusion when you said, and I quote…” Messick looks at the note he took a few minutes ago, “’he died from the HIV.’ So let me ask you again: Isn’t it possible that your husband died from taking AZT rather than from the HIV?”
Mrs. Adams drops her head a little. “I suppose that's possible. I really don’t know.”
“Well, Mrs. Adams, was your husband dying before he was diagnosed as HIV-positive?”
“No.”
“And you said he had been HIV-positive for at least 5 years, correct?”
“Yes.”
“With no signs of AIDS for those five years?”
“Correct.”
“Did he show signs of dying between the time he was diagnosed as HIV-positive in 1988 and the time he started taking AZT in 1989?”
“That wasn't that long a time, Mr. Messick. But the answer is No.”
“So he only started dying after he started taking AZT?”
He really hated this. As strong and independent as she was, Mrs. Adams was starting to look confused and disturbed, and perhaps ready to cry. Messick realizes for the first time that despite what she and Arvel had discussed, she probably never seriously considered this possibility; and now the implications were enormous.
“Mrs. Adams, your husband only started dying after he started taking AZT, is that co
rrect?”
When it was clear that Mrs. Adams was in no condition to answer Messick’s question, Crawley did the only thing any gentleman would do. He came to her defense.
“Objection, Your Honor,” although he would be hard-pressed to give Judge Watts any grounds for his objection. Fortunately, he didn’t have to. Messick didn’t need an answer to the last question.
“That's okay, Mr. Crawley. I withdraw the question. I'm sorry, Mrs. Adams.” Hoping to apologize in the only way he could at the moment, Messick admitted, “Your husband was a great man, and he will always be a hero of mine. And I confess to having a lot of anger at the people who killed him…”
“Objection.”
Judge Watts bangs her gavel loudly.
Messick turns away. “I have no further questions.”