Dying Declaration

by Randy Singer

  “Reasonable doubt does not require perfect parenting. Reasonable doubt does not require that these two act exactly as you would have. Before this case is over, you will hear a lot about what the law requires. But the issue in this case is really very simple and straightforward. Are Thomas and Theresa two loving parents who made a simple mistake or are they really cold-blooded murderers who, by their own inaction, purposefully caused their youngest son to die?

  “Ms. Crawford says that justice requires them to suffer more . . . to serve stiff prison sentences. I say they have suffered enough. They have lost their youngest son. What greater price should they have to pay?”

  Charles gently squeezed their shoulders. It was a subtle gesture, but not one lost on the jury. Nor could they miss the steady stream of tears trickling down Theresa Hammond’s face.

  57

  THE BARRACUDA TOOK advantage of the lethargic time right after lunch to call the Reverend Beckham as her first witness. He looked more like a mortician to Charles than a man of the cloth, his black hair sprayed perfectly into place, his suit holding up without the slightest hint of a wrinkle. He wore a permanent scowl, and Charles could just imagine his typical Sunday morning sermon—a forty-five-minute diatribe against the evils of the world and the sins of the flesh. The reverend took his oath, emphatically repeated “so help me God,” then climbed into the witness chair. He squared his chin, determined to tell the whole truth.

  As she did at the preliminary hearing, the Barracuda had him destroy the case of his parishioners while appearing to praise them. Beckham spoke of the amazing faith of Thomas and Theresa Hammond and how they waited until things were beyond hope to take Joshua to the hospital. Beckham testified, in a loud and certain voice, of how he spoke with the Hammonds every day that Joshua was sick, though he couldn’t remember exactly how many days that happened to be.

  A few days before Joshua was taken to the hospital, the reverend actually went to the Hammonds’ trailer to pray for Joshua’s healing and to anoint him with oil. During that visit the reverend remembered Theresa saying that she believed Joshua was dying and that he needed medical help right away.

  But after a few hours of tears and soul-searching, Thomas and Theresa pledged to hang tough and have faith in God, not man. They both realized, the reverend said, that their lack of faith could have been the one thing keeping their son from being healed.

  Twenty minutes of the reverend went a long way, in the opinion of Charles, and the Barracuda kept him on the stand for thirty. She finally got to the end of her checklist, paused for effect, and asked the reverend her final two questions.

  “Do you have any doubt whatsoever that Thomas and Theresa Hammond knew, on the night you visited them, that this was a life-and-death situation with Joshua?”

  “I have no doubt they realized that.”

  “Yet they were still determined not to take him to the hospital?”

  “That’s correct. They were determined to rely on Jehovah-Raphah—the God who heals.”

  “Thank you,” the Barracuda said, turning smartly and heading back to her seat. “That’s all the questions I have. Mr. Arnold may have a few for you.”

  “Indeed I do,” Charles said, rising quickly and moving toward the witness stand.

  “Where do you suppose Thomas and Theresa Hammond got the idea they shouldn’t take their son to the hospital? Where did that come from?”

  “It comes from the Holy Scriptures and from the teachings of the church,” the reverend said proudly.

  “And would you agree that the Hammonds came under a lot of criticism for taking Joshua to the hospital at all?”

  “There was some criticism. I wouldn’t say a lot.”

  “Enough that you felt compelled to bring it up in your sermon at Joshua’s funeral?”

  “Yes.”

  “So regardless of what you taught them and what you told them on the night you prayed with them, and regardless of all the criticism they would face at church, they still had the courage to go against the flow and take Joshua to the hospital. Right?”

  The reverend grudgingly nodded his head.

  “The court reporter can’t record a head nod,” Charles said. “You need to answer verbally.”

  He scowled at Charles as if the lawyer were the devil himself. “Yes.”

  “Sometimes when church members violate your teachings, they are subjected to church discipline, including getting kicked out of the church. Is that right?”

  “In serious cases, that is what Scripture teaches. And that is what we do.” The reverend tensed his jaw as he clipped off the words. He seemed unaccustomed to being questioned in such a fashion.

  “The Hammonds risked church discipline and ostracism by the church when they took Joshua to the doctor—true?”

  “Yes.”

  “But they did it anyway.”

  “I think it’s obvious, Mr. Arnold, that they did it anyway.”

  Charles smiled. The reverend was getting feisty.

  “Another church family, the Preston family, was disciplined about eighteen months ago and made to apologize to the entire church body, were they not?” Charles positioned himself in his favorite spot between the witness and the Barracuda, crossed his arms, and waited for the answer.

  The witness bristled. The Barracuda rose.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” the reverend asked.

  “My point exactly. I object,” Crawford said.

  Judge Silverman looked at Charles.

  “Because it shows the psychological pressure my clients were under to follow the reverend’s teachings. And it makes it all the more remarkable that they went to the hospital at all.”

  “I’ll allow it,” Silverman ruled.

  “What’s the question again?” the reverend asked.

  “Was the Preston family disciplined by the church?”

  “Yes.”

  “And were they told to apologize to the entire church or risk having all fellowship cut off by the church body?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why were they disciplined? What horrible sin caused the church to come down on them so hard?”

  The reverend did not hesitate. “They were being disciplined for failing to obey the scriptural command to tithe.”

  “Tithing. That’s giving 10 percent of your income to the church. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how would you know whether or not somebody is giving 10 percent of their income to the church?”

  This time the reverend did pause, giving the Barracuda plenty of time to object. When she said nothing, he answered, though his voice was lower this time. “We require church members to show us their tax records . . . and we know how much they give.”

  Now Charles paused, allowing the jury to digest this nugget. “And how much of that tithe income ends up in your salary?”

  “Objection.” The Barracuda jumped to her feet. “That’s totally irrelevant.”

  “More than a hundred thousand?” Charles persisted.

  “Objection!”

  “Ms. Crawford, the court can hear you just fine. Now sit down,” Judge Silverman answered.

  The Barracuda shot the judge a killer look, then threw herself back in her seat.

  “Mr. Arnold, what is the possible relevance of that question?”

  “I just thought,” Charles said with his palms spread out, “that since the reverend takes a look at all the tax returns of his congregation, he wouldn’t mind telling the folks on the jury what he makes.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Charles saw the jurors lean slightly forward. They were probably wondering if this man of the cloth was really hauling down a six-figure income.

  “Objection sustained,” the judge said.

  Charles feigned a little frustration but knew the point had hit home.

  “You don’t know exactly how long Joshua was sick, do you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You don’t even remember the length
of time between the day you visited the Hammonds’ trailer to pray and the day they took Joshua to the hospital, do you?”

  “Like I said—not exactly.”

  “It could have been the very next day?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “But possible?”

  “I suppose.”

  “So if the prosecution were trying to prove that Joshua was sick for five days instead of three before he was taken to the hospital, you wouldn’t be able to back that up, would you?”

  Reverend Beckham leaned forward in the witness chair, lowered his bushy eyebrows, and narrowed his eyes at Charles. “As I’ve said three times now, I can’t say if they took him to the hospital the next day or waited five days. I just know that when I saw him, Joshua was extremely sick.”

  “And at that point, did you suggest that the Hammonds take Joshua to the hospital?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Charles walked over to his counsel table and started to sit. Then, in the style of Columbo, as if he had just remembered something, Charles put his hand to his chin and turned back toward the witness.

  “Oh, I do have one more question,” Charles said. He waited a few seconds to make sure the jury was listening. “Do you accept any responsibility for young Joshua’s death?”

  This question lit a fire under the Barracuda. “That’s ridiculous,” she growled.

  “Is that an objection?” Silverman asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Objection sustained,” the judge said.

  Charles Arnold shrugged his shoulders and took his seat, his unanswered question ringing in the ears of twelve jurors.

  “The commonwealth calls Dr. Sean Armistead,” Crawford announced.

  Charles turned to see the doctor walking down the aisle, his beady gray eyes already darting about.

  “He looks nervous,” Nikki whispered to Charles.

  “Yeah,” Charles said, his own palms moist with sweat. “Imagine that.”

  58

  ARMISTEAD HAD DRESSED casually but professionally for the occasion—just like a doctor—a blue blazer, khaki pants, white shirt, red tie. His posture was ramrod straight, but the dark circles under his eyes revealed the toll of recent events. He somehow looked markedly older than he had just two weeks ago at the preliminary hearing. And he spoke with a sense of grim determination, like a man duty bound to perform an unpleasant task. He avoided eye contact with Charles and focused intently on the Barracuda.

  First, they covered his credentials. Med school, board certifications, years of experience in the emergency room—it was all very impressive stuff. Armistead’s answers were precise and matter-of-fact. The receding blond hair, the wire-rimmed glasses, and the prominent jaw all lent an air of credibility to the witness, and the jury seemed to like him.

  After going through his résumé, the Barracuda proffered Armistead as an expert witness, thereby qualifying him to give opinion testimony.

  “Any objection, Mr. Arnold?” Judge Silverman asked.

  “No objection.”

  The Barracuda next launched her witness into a medical lecture about the appendix. As far as medical science knew, the appendix was basically a useless organ attached to the end of the small intestine. But when it got infected and inflamed, it could present some major medical problems that should be treated immediately.

  An inflamed appendix is excruciatingly painful but not life threatening if treated promptly. For little Joshie, the first few days of his inflamed appendix would have produced unbearable pain, like a thousand knives stabbing his abdomen. If untreated, an inflamed appendix presents a danger of rupturing, which in turn presents a critical and life-threatening situation. A ruptured appendix spews fecal material directly into the abdomen, creating a poison in the system of the patient. The immune system will quickly be overwhelmed by this bacterial infection, eventually leading to peritonitis and the onset of sepsis.

  This is precisely what happened to Joshua Hammond. In fact, Armistead said, his appendicitis had been untreated for so long, he was in an advanced state of septic shock when he presented to the emergency room. The sepsis had begun affecting his circulatory system and central nervous system. An immediate operation was nearly impossible because the child was in no shape to survive surgery. Armistead first had to resuscitate Joshua using IV fluids to restore his strength before the doctor could remove the appendix and clean out the fecal material.

  It was, according to Armistead, a race against time he was destined to lose. Despite his best efforts and the involvement of nearly every specialist at Tidewater General, Joshua never had a chance. The official cause of death was multiple organ failure precipitated by septic shock.

  As he discussed Joshua’s death, Armistead’s gray eyes became downcast, and his voice softened. He confessed that he had lost very few patients in the course of his practice. It was something you never got used to. And it was particularly heartbreaking to know that this death could have been prevented if the child’s parents had just sought medical care during the first few days of the child’s illness. Instead, they sat idly by for five days while Joshua was tortured to death by his own appendix.

  The Barracuda, expressing just the right amount of righteous indignation, strutted around the courtroom. When Armistead mentioned the five-day time frame, she gave him a puzzled look and asked how he could possibly know that information.

  An interesting question, the witness said, and one of crucial importance. When the ER nurse first asked Theresa Hammond how long her son had been sick, Mrs. Hammond said it had been three days. This was an important fact that Armistead relied on in his treatment of Joshua. Later, Armistead said, Theresa Hammond admitted that it had actually been more like five or six days.

  Charles glanced down the defense table at Theresa. Her eyes were wet with tears, and her bottom lip quivered. She looks guilty, Charles thought. And he knew the jurors were thinking the same thing.

  “What did you do when Theresa Hammond admitted that she had lied to you about how long her own son had been sick?” the Barracuda asked.

  “I was shocked,” Armistead said. “And I called you.”

  “And did you later become aware of any additional information supporting the opinions you just gave us about how long Joshua had been sick and what kind of shape he was in when he arrived at the hospital?”

  “Yes, I did. You later showed me a videotaped interview of Joshua’s older brother, John Paul Hammond.”

  The Barracuda then asked the court’s permission to show the jury a segment of the videotape of Tiger. Charles objected, and the judge called the lawyers forward for a sidebar.

  “It’s hearsay,” Charles whispered.

  “Dr. Armistead’s an expert witness,” the Barracuda shot back. “He’s entitled to rely on hearsay in forming his opinions. I just want the jury to see some of the factual statements he relied upon.”

  Silverman let the lawyers argue for a while and then placed his hand over the mike in front of him. “I agree with Ms. Crawford, and I’ll instruct the jury accordingly.”

  Charles felt the wind leave him, knowing that he would now have to bring Tiger into the courtroom to testify. As if he hasn’t been through enough.

  When the lawyers returned to their seats, the judge told the jury that they would be watching segments of the videotaped testimony of John Paul Hammond. “What he says is not being admitted for the truth of the matters he asserts,” the judge instructed, “but to demonstrate part of the basis for Dr. Armistead’s opinions. Is that clear?”

  As they were expected to do, the jurors all lied, nodding their heads like robots.

  “You may proceed,” Silverman said, and Crawford rolled the tape.

  The camera was focused on Tiger. The sweet voice of the Barracuda in the background asked him whether or not his parents waited three or four days before they took Joshua to the hospital.

  “I think it was five,” Tiger said.

  The Barracuda turned off the tape and looked ag
ain at Armistead. “What did you think when you first viewed this videotape?” she asked.

  Dr. Armistead took out a pocket handkerchief and cleaned his glasses. He shook his head and looked down at his hands, then back up at Crawford.

  “It confirmed what Mrs. Hammond had already told me,” Armistead said at last, “though I still found it hard to believe that any mother would allow her son to suffer for five or six days from this painful illness and then, just to make herself look better, lie to the nurses and doctors about how long her son had been sick.”

  “Object!” Nikki whispered to Charles. “How can he testify about why she lied, even assuming that she did lie?”

  “If I object,” Charles whispered back, “I might just as well put a neon sign over that answer so the jury can remember it.”

  “You won’t need to,” Nikki said. “They’re all taking notes.”

  “Your witness,” the Barracuda announced.

  59

  “HOW MANY TIMES have you paid money to settle a malpractice claim?” Charles demanded, rising to his feet.

  “Objection, relevance.”

  “What’s the relevance, Mr. Arnold?” Silverman asked.

  “I intend to prove that Joshua would have survived if he had received proper medical treatment. The skill and judgment of this doctor is therefore very much at issue.”

  “I’ll allow it,” Silverman said.

  “How many times?” Charles asked again. He watched as Armistead glanced briefly at the Barracuda. He could sense the wheels turning in Armistead’s head, but Charles already knew what the answer would be.

  “Two,” Armistead said.

  “Are you sure it’s just two?” Charles asked, raising his eyebrows.

  He noticed some of the color drain from the doctor’s face.

  “Of course, I’m sure,” Armistead said. “You don’t forget something like that. And the way lawyers are suing everyone in sight these days, I’m fortunate that it’s just been twice.”