“Okay.” Hailes was visibly relieved that Quarrington was finished. The color had faded from her face and neck.
“Would smoking be identified as the cause of death on the coroner’s death certificate?”
“No. The cause of death would be lung cancer. The cause of lung cancer might be smoking, but that would not be recorded on the death certificate.”
“Thank you. Now if we could return to the list of causes of death that you showed us.”
“Okay.”
“Based on your knowledge of the toxicological properties of perchloroethylene, is it not true that exposure to perc is consistent with death from cancer, deaths related to the digestive system, and deaths caused by cardiovascular disease?”
“Yes, but—”
“No further questions, your honor.” Marconi turned her back on Dr. Hailes and returned to her seat at the prosecution table.
“Objection!” Quarrington’s sonorous bass reverberated through the courtroom. “Dr. Hailes’s testimony was truncated mid-sentence. Could the court reporter read back the question for the witness?”
“I withdraw the question,” said Marconi, trying to close the door.
“The rules do not permit a second sequence of cross-examination, Mr. Quarrington. The witness is dismissed.” Klinsmann had sided with the prosecution again.
Looking befuddled by the legal skirmish that closed her testimony, Dr. Hailes closed her laptop and was escorted out of the courtroom by one of the U.S. marshals.
The next prosecution witness, Terrence Mauresmo, was the FBI’s forensic computer expert. He looked more like a fashion model than a computer geek. He had high, sculpted cheekbones, cerulean eyes, fleshy lips, and a square jaw. His blond hair was carefully moussed to give it a rugged, windswept appearance.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Mauresmo,” said Marconi, approaching the witness. “First of all, can you provide us with some background on your involvement in this investigation.”
“Yes. Subsequent to the identification of the accused as the perpetrator of the Seattle PCE poisoning, the Department of Justice obtained a search warrant for the suspect’s place of residence. FBI special agents executed the search and discovered two computers, a desktop and a laptop, as well as several external memory devices. The items were tagged and taken into custody for further examination. That’s where I came in.”
“And what did you find that is relevant to the prosecution’s case?”
“We were able to conduct a comprehensive reconstruction of the suspect’s activity on the internet, using both computers, going back more than a year. There was substantially more internet and email activity on the desktop compared to the laptop. Of greatest interest was a series of Google searches conducted in the months preceding the poisoning of the Seattle water supply.”
“What was the subject matter of these searches?”
“There were several distinct categories, including websites about chemical weapons, biological weapons, terrorist organizations, and bomb-making. There were documents downloaded about the toxicological properties of PCE. Finally, there were also numerous searches related to the Chester Morse Reservoir and the Seattle Watershed Authority, including downloaded maps of the facility and surrounding region.” Several jurors looked discomfited by the references to chemical weapons, biological weapons, and bombs.
Quarrington was brief but ruthless in his cross-examination. “Did Dr. MacDougall make a bomb?”
“No.”
“Did he use anthrax, botulism, smallpox, tularemia, or any other form of biological weapon?”
“No.”
“Did he use one of the nerve agents that are hundreds of times more potent than PCE—tabin, sarin, or VX?”
“No.”
“Did he make ricin or use sodium fluoroacetate, a substance five hundred times more potent than arsenic?”
“Objection. My friend is badgering this witness, your honor.”
“I agree,” said Judge Klinsmann. “Do you have any other relevant questions for this witness, Mr. Quarrington?”
“Yes, your honor, I do. Mr. Mauresmo, what you really mean to tell us is that Dr. MacDougall researched a wide range of potentially deadly actions and carefully chose to use a substance that would not cause any significant adverse health effects?”
“Objection, your honor. The witness has no knowledge of the defendant’s mental processes.”
“Withdrawn,” said Quarrington calmly. “No further questions.”
Marconi had saved her star witness for the end of the day. Cassie was wearing a conservative black pantsuit and a light blue blouse. There were dark rings under her eyes. Michael was curious about Cassie’s testimony. She’d struck him as an honest person, and it appeared that she’d divulged confidential information because she agreed, on some level, that Michael’s arrest and prosecution had crossed a line.
To the disappointment of Marconi and the media hordes, Cassie made her testimony concise and deliberately bland. She described the EPA’s role on the task force, the development of her lone-wolf theory based on previous watershed trespassing incidents, her meeting with the confidential informant who identified Michael as a potential suspect, and the physical evidence gathered at the house that pointed to his guilt. Most of the details she provided had already been reported in the media. During their preparations for the trial, Marconi tried to get Cassie to add some emotional oomph, some more sensational language, to buttress her testimony. Cassie steadfastly refused, coming across as a remarkably modest and reserved person.
The moment Cassie had been dreading arrived. Klinsmann asked Quarrington if he had any questions for the witness. Cassie looked at Michael, torn between her duty to the state and her personal convictions. He held her gaze.
Quarrington cleared his throat and said, “No questions for this witness, your honor.”
“Thank you. We’ll call it a day and resume proceedings tomorrow at nine a.m.”
Chapter 44
Michael suffered another largely sleepless night. On the few occasions he dozed off, harrowing nightmares roused him. The usual assortment of ghosts—Laurent, dying children, dead bodies—reached out to him, chasing him, beseeching him to help them. Morning delivered a headache. So much for being well-rested for his testimony. He forced himself to choke down half a bowl of congealed oatmeal. Quarrington and Yavari met him in the holding cell. He was pleased that they looked confident and relaxed, despite their own late night. They reviewed the game plan one last time and left him with the guards. Fifteen minutes later, he joined his attorneys in the courtroom.
“We’re ready for the defense case, Mr. Quarrington. Please proceed.”
“Thank you, your honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, as a result of Judge Klinsmann’s earlier ruling, the defense will rely on just two witnesses in this case. Both of them are respected medical professionals. To begin, the defense calls Dr. Douglas Carpenter, professor emeritus at Cambridge University.” Carpenter was a tall elegant man in a blue blazer and a bright yellow bow tie. His bald head reflected the ceiling lights. Patches of damaged skin on his hands and face suggested skin cancer.
Carpenter was sworn in. “Welcome to Seattle, Dr. Carpenter,” started Quarrington. “I wish the circumstances surrounding your visit were more pleasant. Nevertheless, this is a very important proceeding and we are enormously pleased that you have been able to join us.”
Marconi was already on her feet. “Your honor? This is a criminal trial, not an academic conference. Perhaps Mr. Quarrington could get to the point about why this witness is testifying.” She had succeeded in limiting the defense to two witnesses and now sought to truncate Carpenter’s testimony.
“Move along, Mr. Quarrington,” Klinsmann added, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Of course, your honor.” Quarrington began to walk Carpenter through his impressive résumé. In ad
dition to his university affiliations, including Oxford and the Sorbonne, Carpenter had served as a special advisor to several UN health and development agencies. He was the author or co-author of more than 100 publications about the medical problems faced by children in developing countries.
Marconi stood again, shaking her head. “I have no doubt that Dr. Carpenter is a world authority on issues related to children’s health. Unfortunately, I am having a difficult time seeing the relevance to the trial of a terrorist who used a chemical weapon to wreak havoc on America and blackmail the president.”
“Mr. Quarrington?” A purple vein in Klinsmann’s forehead throbbed.
“The connection should be clear, your honor, but I will elaborate. Dr. MacDougall is relying on the necessity defense to justify the actions for which he faces charges. Since the necessity defense requires a balancing of evils, it is imperative that the jury have a clear understanding of the magnitude of the evil that Dr. MacDougall’s actions were intended to prevent.”
“All right. But let me remind you, counselor, and the jury as well, that at the end of the trial, the availability of the necessity defense is a question of law for me to decide.”
“We recognize the state of the jurisprudence, your honor.” Carpenter was fidgeting in the witness box. “Dr. Carpenter, my apologies for that interruption. Let us proceed. Two years ago, you were the editor of a special edition of The Lancet, one of the world’s leading medical journals. Could you please tell the court about the highlights of that special edition?”
“Certainly.” Carpenter spoke in the confident tone of a professor lecturing an auditorium full of undergrads. “In recent years, I have sensed that the medical profession in wealthy nations such as the UK and the U.S. had lost touch with the global children’s health crisis. This crisis is undermining the social, economic, and cultural future of dozens of countries around the world, but the situation is most pronounced in sub-Saharan Africa. Of the roughly ten million deaths of children under the age of five that occur annually in the world, mostly in Africa, at least three-quarters are preventable or treatable for mere pennies per child. The loss of human potential is devastating. Who knows how many Einsteins, Gandhis, Messis, Jordans, and Mozarts we may be losing?”
“But surely the situation is improving. Are these problems not well on their way to being solved?”
“I wish with all of my heart that that were true. We’ve seen the UN Year of the Child come and go. We’ve seen the International Children’s Decade come and go. We’ve seen the global Convention on the Rights of the Child signed and ratified by almost every nation on Earth.”
“Almost every nation?”
“Yes, well.” Carpenter cleared his throat. “Every nation in the world except the USA.”
“That can’t be right.” Judge Klinsmann glared over the tops of his glasses at the witness.
“It’s an uncomfortable truth, sir, but I can provide you with a complete list of parties to the convention and you will not find the United States on that list.”
“Hmmm,” Klinsmann grumbled. “I remain unconvinced of the relevance of this testimony to our trial. However, I must admit your evidence is thought-provoking. Mr. Quarrington, you may continue.”
“Thank you, your honor. Dr. Carpenter, I believe you were reviewing the catalog of broken promises made to the impoverished children of the world.”
“Yes. I was about to mention the UN Decade for Clean Water and Sanitation, which was the 1990s. It came and went; yet one billion people still lack access to potable water and more than two billion lack access to basic sanitation. In some places, people are still drinking out of puddles and defecating in ditches.”
“That is terrible. Go on.”
“Conceived on the cusp of the twenty-first century, the Millennium Development Goals sought to reduce child mortality by fifty percent, reduce poverty by fifty percent, and achieve universal primary education. All of this by 2015. That year passed, but the goals remain unmet.”
“And most recently?”
“The most recent set of promises are the most comprehensive and ambitious. The United Nations identified seventeen Sustainable Development Goals, to be achieved by 2030. The SDGs include ending poverty and hunger as well as providing education, clean water, and clean energy for all.”
“What stands in the way of fulfilling these commitments?”
“In one word, money. The World Bank estimates that achieving the Sustainable Development Goals would cost the world $100 billion per year.”
“That sounds like an astronomical sum of money.”
“To the contrary, in today’s $100-trillion-dollar global economy, $100 billion is a pittance. About one-tenth of the annual American military budget. About what Americans spend every year on their pets.”
“What role is the United States playing in the global war on poverty?”
“Objection. America is not on trial here.” Marconi’s cheeks were flushed and her voice rose an octave.
“Overruled,” said Klinsmann. “Let’s hear what Dr. Carpenter has to say.”
“The help provided to poor countries by wealthy countries is called official development assistance, or foreign aid. The agreed-upon international target is 0.7 percent of gross domestic product. The U.S. languishes near the bottom of the rankings of donor nations at 0.2 percent.”
“And can you tie these rather dry figures back to the issue of children’s health?”
“Of course. It costs less than five cents per child to provide Vitamin A supplements, which can reduce mortality by up to twenty-three percent. It costs two dollars for a bed net that can reduce malaria deaths by forty-four percent. It costs less than a dollar per child to vaccinate for the most common childhood diseases, such as mumps and measles. It costs less than a dollar per child to provide oral rehydration medication or antibiotics. Yet for want of these puny sums, more than ten thousand children die unnecessary deaths every day in developing nations.” Carpenter stopped talking and made an obvious show of looking at his watch.
“Are we keeping you from another engagement, Dr. Carpenter?” the judge asked.
“No. I just wanted to let you know that since my testimony commenced today, more than five hundred children have died because of preventable or treatable diseases.” There was a collective gasp in the courtroom, followed by stunned silence. “This is the greatest humanitarian disaster of our time, and history will not be kind to those leaders, people, and nations who turned their backs on the world’s children in this crisis.”
“Deeply disturbing, but thank you for joining us today.” Quarrington nodded in appreciation.
“Ms. Marconi?”
“The prosecution sees no point in pursuing the cross-examination of this witness, your honor. While his testimony may have been interesting, it was completely irrelevant to this trial.”
Chapter 45
“The next witness is the defendant, Dr. Michael MacDougall.” Michael took the stand. His hands, so steady in the operating room, were trembling.
“Please state your full name for the court.”
“Michael James MacDougall.”
“Do you swear that the evidence you give in this proceeding will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
Quarrington, Yavari, and Michael had discussed and debated the best approach to his testimony. This is probably where the case would be won or lost. For the first time, the jury would hear Michael speak. Could he connect with them? Engage their sympathy? It was a risky gambit but this was no ordinary trial.
Quarrington asked open-ended questions to walk Michael through his background. He wanted Michael to relax into a comfortable storytelling mode, so he asked him about his father’s fatal heart attack, the event that sparked his desire to become a doctor. Michael modestly described awards that he’d won, ex
plained his frustration working as an emergency surgeon at the Harborview Medical Center, and recalled the unlikely events that led him to become involved with IMAF.
“Tell us about your volunteer work in Africa.”
“Doing aid medicine in Africa is challenging but also super rewarding. IMAF’s basic philosophy, which I share, is simple: every human being matters, no matter how poor or how far away. A life is a life. When I see a sick or wounded child, my heart clenches and I feel their pain. One of the most beautiful things about Africa is the small children who follow you everywhere, the bravest among them gently grasping your hand or curling a finger through your belt loop. That was really the essence of my work in the Congo, making human contact, showing that somebody cares.
“I was assigned to Goma in the Eastern Congo, a war zone where multiple militias compete for control. Ordinary citizens are routinely killed, raped, or displaced from their homes. Refugees walk hundreds of miles, barefoot, through the forest, eating roots, leaves, and stems. They carry their paltry possessions and unintentionally transport bacteria, viruses, and disease from one region to another. The damage to their feet is unimaginable. There is often little or no flesh left on their skeletal bodies. And yet some of them still manage to smile and laugh and sing. When they arrive at our clinic we do the best we can for them. But when you return on your rounds the next day, several will be gone, dead or disappeared without a whisper. Like shadows that melt into the darkness of night.
“We were treating symptoms, not problems. Malnourished children suffer from vitamin, mineral, and trace element deficiencies that increase their vulnerability to respiratory infections and diarrhea-related diseases. The most common illnesses I saw were diarrhea, malaria, malnutrition, acute respiratory infections, and measles. Children who graduated from our therapeutic feeding program were enrolled in a supplementary food course that provided high-calorie, high-protein cereal mix for their entire family. Some patients were reluctant to leave our portable tent hospital because it was safe.”
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