Chase, the Bad Baby: A Legal and Medical Thriller (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 4)

by John Ellsworth

  Morgana nodded in agreement that it was extremely difficult. “You two must be very tired.”

  “At first we didn’t know what the hell was going on. Now we do. This crying was a sign of possible brain damage.”

  “What else have you noticed about Chase?”

  “OK, here’s one. During his first two weeks he had a very low body temperature. Eighty-five degrees. We covered him with blankets and heating pads and did everything we could to keep him warm.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Eventually his body temperature climbed back up.”

  “Is it normal now?”

  “It never has regulated well. Not like you and me. We’re steady, you know what I mean? Not Chase, he still ups and downs. First he’s hot then he’s cold. Well, we learned this was another symptom of brain damage.”

  Latoya broke in. “These things start to add up. But you’re only hearing one percent of what life is really like now. With me there’s this constant dread of what’s going to happen next. With the other ones I always knew that there would be stages, you know? Diapers, then training pants, then regular underwear. I don’t count on that with Chase. They tell me he’ll never potty train.” Tears damped her eyes as the reality again surfaced.

  She added, “And that’s just one tiny thing. Then I wonder about school, will he go to any kind of school? Right now we’ve got one in pre-school and one in first grade. The doctors tell me that Chase will never attend that kind of school. So I ask them what other kind of school there is and they just look at me. No one knows shit. Can I say that on camera?”

  Thaddeus said, “The jury wants to see you like you are. That’s fine to express yourself.”

  John said, “Latoya breastfed our other two kids. No problem. Chase struggled to be able to suck. He finally took some water from a bottle after two days. Latoya kept after him. After two more days she got him to finally suck. Two weeks of this kind of struggle and then he started breastfeeding regular. Another sign of brain damage.”

  Latoya hurried out and returned with a stack of tissues. She dabbed her eyes.

  “Are you telling Miss Bridgman everything we’ve noticed?” she asked her husband.

  He nodded. “I’m trying.”

  Latoya dried her eyes and straightened up. “Like I say, I’ve got two other kids. No problems, normal kids. Chase is different in so many ways. But he’s going to come along just fine and be more himself as he grows.”

  Thaddeus softly asked her, “Latoya, is that being realistic?”

  The tears started flowing. “No, it is not. This beautiful baby boy is not gonna have a life, Miss Bridgman. He’s never gonna swim, never gonna go for a walk all alone, never gonna ride a bike, never write a check, never drive around town, never go shopping alone, he won’t even know where to go for a simple haircut. Does this help you understand a Day in the Life? Does it?”

  Morgana’s cup rattled in its saucer as she held it. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing else to say but I’m sorry.”

  John was unnerved by his wife’s tears. Coupled with the frustration and stress of Chase, he bristled. “You damn well ought to be. You’re defending the scum of the earth, a doctor who would let this happen to a precious baby. How could anyone even look at themselves in the mirror after something like this?”

  “I don’t know. I mean for me, it’s my job. It’s what I do. I have great sympathy, personally, for your situation.”

  “Do you have kids, Miss Bridgman?”

  “Well, that’s just it, we have one on the way, our first.”

  “Well, I’m gonna be praying for you that this doesn’t happen to your baby. You’ve got to watch over them like a hawk when they’re coming out.”

  “I will.”

  John asked, “And if there’s any way you can think of, if we could just get some money now—kind of an advance—we could get a nurse in here two nights a week and let us get some sleep. Right now we’re zombies.”

  Morgana was taken by surprise. “I’m sorry, I—”

  Thaddeus raised a hand. “What Morgana is trying to say is that we really have not discussed settling this case yet. We’re still in the discovery phase.”

  Suddenly Latoya lifted Chase and placed him in Morgana’s arms. Morgana was immediately flustered, trying to hold the iPad and restrain Chase’s bucking and twisting in her arms. Chase arched his back and screamed.

  Latoya folded her hands in her lap and watched. “There. Now you look Chase in the eye and tell him there’s no money for him after what that fool doctor did to him. Go ahead, tell him!”

  Morgana was totally off-guard. She tried patting the baby, she tried jiggling him up and down, but her efforts were ignored by the frantic baby. Finally, in desperation, she held the infant out to his mother. Morgana had tears in her eyes. She accepted the offer of a tissue.

  Latoya said to her baby, “What, baby? Is the lady going to help my big boy? Did she say?”

  36

  The three Middle Eastern men gathered at the Niles Denny’s Restaurant, corner booth. They ordered—separate checks—and then launched into Arabic.

  “I bought the video from the Jungle Zone,” Ragman told the others. “Clearly it was Thaddeus Murfee.”

  “Poor Sayed,” said Kilowatt. “Allah mourns.”

  “Allah rejoices. Sayed died fighting the infidels.”

  “Agree,” said Maps, who raised his Diet Coke as a toast. His toast went unconfirmed.

  “So. Here is his picture from our surveillance. It was taken by a member of the South Chicago Cell last week. Notice no facial hair, six foot two, thick brown hair, round spectacles, plain Brooks Brothers suit.”

  “That’s Gucci,” said Kilowatt. “I have that suit.”

  “Okay, color me wrong,” said Ragman. “A pinstripe suit. Like fifty thousand other lawyers in Chicago.”

  “Sorry,” said Kilowatt.

  “I’m just huge upset,” said Ragman. “We’re losing soldiers to this infidel.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I’ve turned him over to the Western Cell. They will hit him.”

  “When?”

  “It better be before he comes after us again.”

  37

  Thaddeus reclined in the Emperor 1510 ergonomic chair, suit jacket and shirt removed. At his side perched a tattoo artist with tiny pots of ink and a well-broken-in Neuma tattoo machine. The artist focused on the portrait of a very small child being held in one very large hand, as it was injected onto Thaddeus’ shoulder. Across the desk Latoya repeatedly poked a bottle of formula in the area of Chase’s moving mouth.

  Thaddeus looked up from the resolving tattoo. “So what are we saying here? You did read the nurse’s notes I sent you or you didn’t?”

  Latoya held Chase away from her body like a sack of flour so she could respond. “I’m saying I did read them and they aren’t what happened. It didn’t happen like that at all. They’re trying to make it sound like they paged Dr. Payne and twenty minutes later he comes screeching in to save me like Roadrunner. That’s not it at all. It took at least forty-five minutes.”

  “And we know that because?”

  “We know it because I was the one there. I was the one waiting.”

  “Well, was there a clock in the room?”

  “Not that I could see.”

  “Were you wearing a watch?”

  “No, I was not. They took my watch and my wedding ring.”

  He frowned. “Well, did somebody tell you how long it took? No one’s going to buy that. So you tell me.”

  “Simple. I knew how long it took because Andrea timed my contractions and she timed how long between contractions. Both took three minutes. Six minutes per cycle. And I went through this seven times until the doctor got there.”

  “You counted up to seven?”

  “I did. I told myself I would go to ten and then I would get up and leave.”

  “I like your self-talk, girl. You’re tougher than most of my clients
.”

  “When I got to seven and almost said ‘eight,’ in strolls Dr. Payne. He was wearing his gown and I saw them put the gloves on him, then I went under.”

  “That will work. Six minutes times seven and you’ve got forty-two minutes from the time they paged until the time the doctor arrived. Add another three minutes at least to get the baby out and you’re talking a forty-five-minute response time.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “But how do we know the contractions didn’t get closer together?”

  At last Chase took the bottle. He began sucking vigorously and his eyes played across the fluorescents embedded in the ceiling. “Because Andrea and Nancy timed them. Every time they said the same thing, three minutes. Then they timed in between and said the time. Every time that was three minutes. Seven times. Six minutes. Magic number, no more, no less.”

  “But the nurse’s notes have him arriving eighteen minutes after the page.”

  “Horse puckey. I’ve told you what I know.”

  “So what are we saying here, the nurse’s notes are wrong?”

  “Contrived might be a better word. Those nurse’s notes are wrong.”

  “Did you see other nurse’s notes?”

  “I did not. Who reads nurse’s notes during delivery? Sweet Jesus, Thaddeus.”

  “Contrived? Are we saying these notes are fabricated?”

  “Of course they are. Someone made up a bunch of bullshit so they don’t lose a million dollars on a nobody baby like Chase.”

  “We’re after a lot more than a million here.”

  The tattoo artist spoke up. “Thaddeus, you’re flinching. Try to relax.”

  “It hurts like hell.”

  The tattoo artist nodded at Latoya. “All great art hurts. Right, mama?”

  She seemed to examine her baby with a critical eye. “This great art hurt. I can swear to that.”

  Thaddeus said, “What about the forty-two minutes. Can you swear to that?”

  “I can.”

  “Under oath, before God?”

  “Yes, I can swear before my Maker that it was forty-two minutes before he got there.”

  “Then we’re done here.”

  “Not quite,” said the artist. “Try to lean back and relax. We have a lot of decorating to add yet.”

  38

  At the wheel of her Porsche, Morgana raced through Chicago Loop traffic while A.W. hung onto the passenger strap. Wide-eyed and jaw-dropped, the journey was clearly more than he had bargained for.

  “For the love of God, Morgana, take it easy. None of these cabbies you’re shooting through can read English and they all look alike. Hit one of them and they scatter like roaches. Then you have no insurance to go after.”

  She laughed and slapped the wheel. “This car will do one ninety-five, A.W. A little slashing and burning out here is small potatoes to her.”

  “Pull in here, Nouveau’s.”

  They parked and Morgana followed A.W. into the restaurant. It was a man’s menu on the wall, meat loaf, chili, corned beef and cabbage, pot roast. Few women were present but Morgana seemed not to notice and marched right in, leading the way.

  They walked to the back, nodding to judges and lawyers as they went. The waiter followed them and waited.

  Morgana asked, “What are you having?”

  A.W knew what he wanted before he got there. “I’ll have the roast hen and new potatoes. Water.”

  “Same. Iced tea. Now what do you want to talk about?”

  “The Staples case. I’m going to trial with you.”

  “You’re what? Jim Barnes is going to trial with me. I really like this guy, he’s a Hoya too. Anyway, that’s what Carson said.”

  “I know that’s what Carson told you. Well, Barnes can sit this dance out. I’ll be the one there beside you.”

  “Hey, climb aboard. It’ll be just like the old times. We’ll kick some ass, make a boxcar of money, and get drunk after. Just like the old times.”

  “I let the court know this morning. And by the way, Judge Moody wants counsel in his courtroom eight sharp tomorrow.”

  “Because?”

  “You know Thaddeus Murfee, he’s whining about the hospital records. I’ve already told the judge you’ve turned over all the records. I even told him that I had instructed you myself.”

  “So why the early court call?”

  “He wants us to go on the record and swear under oath that all records are turned over.”

  Their food arrived, steaming and heaped on the plates.

  “Which we’ll do. Fine, here we are, let’s dig in.”

  39

  Early Chicago morning, late fall, overcast, rainy and windy. Morgana and A.W arrived in A.W.’s chauffeured black Mercedes. They climbed out of the car in front of the court building. Thaddeus parked in lawyers’ parking and walked around the building.

  Elevator up to the twenty-third, passengers stared at the clicking lights over the door.

  All attorneys took seats at counsel table.

  Courtroom of Judge J. Albert Moody. American flag, sleepy bailiff, court reporter, court clerk, lawyers.

  At eight sharp the bailiff came to life. “Oyez, oyez, oyez. The circuit court of the First Judicial Circuit will now come to order, Honorable James Albert Moody presiding.”

  Judge Moody floated in shrouded in his billowing black robe. “Be seated. Mr. Murfee it’s your motion, please proceed.”

  Thaddeus climbed to his feet. He wanted to come across as someone who had been wronged by the withholding of records in the case. There had to be a whiff of frustration and anger. Latoya was seated beside him, with John Staples in the rear of the courtroom, holding Chase. He gathered himself for the assault.

  Thaddeus slowly began. “May it please the court. We’ve filed this motion to produce because we believe the defendant is hiding records.”

  There, he thought, it’s on the floor and flopping around like a snake. A pile of trouble for the defendants.

  Judge Moody looked down on the defendants’ lawyers. “That’s a serious accusation. Let’s hear from the defense.”

  Morgana stood up. Her voice was strong and confident. “Judge that’s just not true. Every record I was ever given has been turned over.”

  Thaddeus listened carefully. She wasn’t saying she had turned over all records; she was saying she had turned over every record she had been given. Huge difference. He would circle back on this.

  Before Thaddeus could launch into full attack mode, A.W. scraped back his chair and stood. “Judge, I can tell you that every record we received from the hospital and Dr. Payne’s charts has been turned over. I personally saw to it that they were delivered to Morgana’s office.”

  Judge Moody looked askance at the old lawyer. “You’re certain?’

  “I personally supervised it. There were three CDs turned over, thousands of pages of records and reports, doctors’ entries and nurses’ notes. It’s all there, Judge.”

  Judge Moody’s gaze shifted back to Thaddeus. “Mr. Murfee, what proof do you have there are undisclosed records?”

  Thaddeus was ready for this. “There is no proof. Just a strong suspicion. My client sees things in the records that she will swear at trial are forgeries.”

  “Well, that’s why we have trials, so your client can get to say those things.”

  Thaddeus decided to push it up another notch. “Let me ask counsel a question. Morgana, are the delivery room records complete and accurate?”

  Morgana’s face twisted at the insult. “Your honor, am I on trial here? I’ve already made by avowal to the court. The records I was given are all there.”

  Judge Moody saw it was going to go nowhere. The defense was presented with a situation where it was presented with trying to prove a negative, which, as all first year law students know, is impossible. “Your point is well taken, you are not on trial. Unless there is something else we stand adjourned. Next case.”

  Thaddeus nodded. He felt better, having made his re
cord. Now he would depose the hospital administrator on down to the lowliest clerk. Somewhere along the line somebody just might slip up and then he’d drag Morgana and A.W. right back in here on contempt of court charges. For now, he had done his job.

  40

  After court, Morgana and A.W waited on the sidewalk for the Mercedes to return. Morgana was fuming and standing apart from him. Finally she could hold it inside no longer.

  “You made it sound like you have totally clean hands in all this. If this thing goes south, I’m the fall guy. Nicely done. You and Carson are genius at this bullshit.”

  A.W. looked away down the street, seeming to shrug it off. “I just wanted Judge Moody to know I’ve given you all the records I received from Hudd Family.”

  “But you left out the part about telling me to dump nurses’ notes. And you left out the part about how some of those records are forged.”

  “How do I know they’re forged? I gave you what they gave me.”

  Morgana turned her back to him. “I’m starting to see why our partners are such a close-knit group. If the truth about any of us leaks out we all wind up in prison.”

  “We’re no different than any other firm. Welcome to the practice of law in the twenty-first century. No one said it would be easy.”

  She swung back around. “Hard I can take. Illegal—that’s a whole new world for me. You just want to be damn sure you have my back.”

  “And you mine. And that’s how it works. Now where shall we have breakfast? Hudd Family is buying, we’re still on their meter.”

  She was inconsolable. “Screw their meter and screw Hudd Family. I’m going back to the office and try to forget how I just lied to Judge Moody, a man I highly respect.”

  41

  They followed Thaddeus into the deposition room reserved for his cases. It was tastefully decorated with expensive Western art on the walls, flocked wallpaper, and deep wool carpet. The mandatory wide screens and whiteboards surrounded the occupants, ready to serve. The court reporter set up his machine and ran a few inches of paper through the machine, finally nodding “Ready” at Thaddeus. He took the cue.