by Alan Bell
Again, she ran out of time. The plane zoomed over her, dousing her car with chemicals in a direct hit. As the chemicals poured through the windows and vents, Judilyn felt that same painful burning sensation on her bare skin and in her nostrils, as well as a chemical taste in her mouth. Her eyes grew teary and her vision blurred.
Panicked, Judilyn immediately drove to a nearby house, explained the situation to the owners, and asked to use a bathroom to wash herself off and rinse out her mouth. Despite these measures, she experienced greater memory loss and more trouble concentrating. She also suffered from numbness in her limbs and dryness in her mouth and throat. Her ongoing health problems caused her to become too incapacitated to continue working at the job she loved.
To Judilyn, it was clear that the pesticides caused her symptoms. She saw several doctors, but none of them would definitively link her chemical exposures to her health problems. The same thing happened when she contacted various lawyers: not one was willing to take her case, even though she had abundant documentation.
Then Judilyn remembered seeing the movie Erin Brockovich and how the character played by Julia Roberts was, in fact, a real woman who worked in Ed Masry’s law firm, helping victims of environmental injury. She decided to call the firm for help.
Masry and Vititoe continued to be swamped with more requests for representation than they could handle and were regularly faxing cases over to me for review and analysis. They faxed Judilyn’s case notes over to me. “We don’t know what to do with this one,” Jim admitted when I called to talk to him about it. “What do you think? Is it worth pursuing?”
“It’s very interesting,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” I told him I’d give Judilyn a call and do some digging.
Judilyn was thrilled when she got my call. “Oh my God!” she cried. “I can’t believe it. You mean Erin Brockovich really wants to take my case?” She sounded like she’d just won the lottery.
“Well, I’m helping Erin Brockovich,” I explained, attempting to calm her down. I didn’t want to get her hopes up until I knew more facts. “My name is Alan Bell. I’m an attorney, and I’m just calling as part of a preliminary interview to see if we can help you. Why don’t you start by telling me exactly what happened.”
Judilyn proceeded to tell me her story, starting with the first time she was sprayed, and detailing her various medical symptoms.
Next, I spoke with her husband and daughter. “She can’t think anymore,” her husband said. “She’s walking into walls and having seizures. It’s almost like she’s got Parkinson’s. She used to be fun-loving, perky, and lively, but now she can hardly function. She slurs her speech and all that stuff.”
My heart ached for this woman and her family. I could relate, especially as I listened to them describe their frustration with the doctors and lawyers they’d seen. Not one of them was willing to confirm that Judilyn was suffering from pesticide exposure. Taking her history was horrible for me because I was filled with dread about her dismal future.
The first thing I did after talking to the family was contact two specialists by phone. One of them, Dr. Mohamed Abou-Donia from Duke University, had helped me on the Dan Allen case. He had worked extensively with organophosphates, particularly with sarin, the nerve gas many soldiers were exposed to during the First Gulf War (Operation Desert Shield). Like many pesticides, sarin kills at higher doses. At lower doses, it causes nervous system damage, leading to symptoms such as memory difficulties, fatigue, weakness, pain, and gastrointestinal problems.
Dr. Abou-Donia’s research had shown that organophosphates cause nervous system damage by inhibiting acetylcholinesterase, an important enzyme that protects the nervous system. Without that protection, neurotoxicity and nerve cell degeneration occur. He had already testified about these findings in a congressional subcommittee and before the British House of Commons.
I explained the case to him and got the answer I was hoping to hear. Because Judilyn sustained two direct hits from aerial pesticide spraying and her symptoms began immediately afterward, Dr. Abou-Donia concluded that her symptoms were caused by the pesticide exposure.
Money wasn’t my primary focus in this case. Before we sued the pesticide sprayer, I needed to help Judilyn find the right medical help. I called her and said, “Look, you need to get healthy before we tackle the legal stuff. Are you willing to let me help you do that?”
“I’ll go anywhere and do anything,” she said.
“Great,” I said.
I called Dr. William Meggs, an emergency room doctor and a professor at the University of East Carolina with expertise in chemical exposures. Dr. Meggs had also served on the advisory board of my Environmental Health Foundation. More importantly, he was close enough to Judilyn for her to drive over and see him.
Following an extensive examination, Dr. Meggs called me to say that Judilyn’s symptoms were consistent with organophosphate exposure. As he began treating her symptoms, I could see that the legal evidence against the crop duster was piling up. But we needed at least one more expert opinion before I would be willing to put Judilyn through a lengthy courtroom battle.
I called Judilyn again. “Okay, now I want you to see Dr. Kaye Kilburn at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles,” I said. “He’ll do more tests and evaluate you. I’d like to meet you, too, if you’re interested.”
She agreed. Judilyn flew to Los Angeles and I met her at the airport. I was immediately impressed with her. She stood about five foot nine and had long auburn hair, milky white skin, big blue eyes, and a wonderful smile. She had a nice, fun-loving personality despite her health problems, and chatted easily as we drove to Dr. Kilburn’s office, telling me how much she loved camping, hiking, canoeing, and gardening in her backyard. It was important for her to be a good wife to her husband, Thomas, and a good mother to their daughter. My heart went out to her.
Dr. Kilburn was also on the advisory board for my Environmental Health Foundation; in 1998, he published Chemical Brain Injury, a book based on his research explaining how certain chemicals abundant in our environment adversely affect human brain activity. I knew he would run the necessary tests to determine whether Judilyn’s cognitive difficulties were due to her chemical exposure; he would also serve as a convincing expert witness in the courtroom if the case got that far.
After spending the day with Judilyn, reviewing records and performing various tests, Dr. Kilburn agreed that she was suffering from the effects of pesticide exposure. Like Dr. Meggs, he diagnosed Judilyn with a chemical brain injury. That clinched it for me: we had a solid case, and I intended to pull out all the stops to win it for Judilyn.
I still wasn’t well enough to travel much. I remained vigilant about my health, eating only organic foods, taking vitamins, exercising, and sitting in the sauna every day to excrete toxins. These careful routines helped stabilize my health, but I still had to be extremely careful to limit the places I went, restricting my exposure to chemicals that had the potential to set off a domino effect of symptoms.
Logistically, that posed a problem—I couldn’t travel to North Carolina to represent Judilyn. Although I could develop the case from my home, ultimately I’d need a local attorney to represent the case in court.
I contacted several lawyers who specialized in toxic tort litigation and eventually settled on Bryan Brice. He was a young, enthusiastic lawyer who had clerked for a justice of the North Carolina Supreme Court before becoming a staff attorney for the Environmental Protection Agency in Washington, DC. He now had his own environmental law practice.
When I spoke with Bryan about joining me on the Judilyn Knight case, he was immediately intrigued both by Judilyn’s story and by my personal experiences. He said he’d be honored to jump on board. We had a team.
Bryan and his new associate, Cathy Crawley-Jones, drove to Judilyn’s home to meet with her and her husband. Bryan confirmed my view of Judilyn as an energetic, hardworking woman whose life had been irrevocably chang
ed. “She has trouble walking and remembering things,” he reported, “and it’s hard for her to get out her thoughts in a cogent manner, which is frustrating for her. She’s sad about being disabled.”
I led Brian through the steps of putting together a chemical exposure case. He was a fast learner and didn’t seem to mind as I kept pushing him with questions: “How are we going to present this to a jury? What are the things we want to show about Judilyn’s work history? What’s important about her family history? What are the key facts about this crop duster, his violations, and his attitude?” I also brainstormed with Bryan about courtroom strategies, like how to pick jury members who would be most sympathetic to this woman’s plight.
There was a large community of retired military personnel in the area, I pointed out. Although Judilyn didn’t have a military background, I thought her service to the US government would appeal to jurors with military connections. She was the type of person who was dedicated to her government job and was passionate about completing her daily responsibilities no matter what the circumstances.
• • •
While working on Judilyn’s case, I came face-to-face with a new sorrow of my own: Dr. Jay Seastrunk, the man who had essentially rescued me from life in a bubble, was dying from cancer. I had no idea he was ill until a fellow patient of his called to say, “He’s about ready to go, Alan. You need to see him.”
I discussed the situation with Ashlee. She was the one who had found Dr. Seastrunk, and she and I often talked openly about death and the afterlife. Ashlee was in high school now, old enough to understand my conflicted feelings.
“It’s going to be difficult for me to see my doctor in such a precarious physical state,” I said, “but I feel a strong sense of loyalty. I want Dr. Seastrunk to understand that I accept my improved health as a gift, and that I’m using this second chance at life as a call to help others. He made that possible.”
“Can I come with you, Daddy?” Ashlee asked.
I shook my head. I knew what terminal cancer looked like, having been through it with my own sister, and I didn’t want to expose Ashlee to that. “It’s probably better if I go alone,” I said, “but I’ll tell you about it when I get back.”
I drove from our home in Capistrano Beach to Seastrunk’s ranch in the hills above San Luis Obispo. As I wound my way up through the golden California hills filled with brush and oak trees, I thought about how much the landscape reminded me of certain parts of Texas, where Dr. Seastrunk had lived most of his life.
When I arrived, I was met by Dr. Seastrunk’s wife, who led me into the room where the doctor was lying in a hospital bed tethered to an oxygen tank. His face was gaunt. The cheerful Pillsbury Doughboy look was gone. But he managed to crack a smile when I walked in, as he gently perched on the edge of his bed.
“Dr. Seastrunk, I wanted to come and thank you for everything you did for me,” I managed to say, my throat tight with emotion. “Because of you, I’ve been able to make a difference in the lives of other people. Here. Let me show you.”
I had brought newspaper clippings of my various cases. As I handed the articles to Dr. Seastrunk one by one, he took them between his shaking hands and began reading, peering down at the newsprint through his glasses. Within minutes, his chest began heaving up and down as he started to weep. Dr. Seastrunk handed the articles back to me and lowered himself back onto the pillows.
Alarmed, I said, “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all? Just name it!”
To my surprise, a visible wave of energy swept through the bedridden man as he looked up at me with a gaze that pierced my very soul. “Go get ’em!” he said. “Go get ’em!” His voice was hardly above a whisper, but it was defiant and strong just the same.
I started crying and reached across the hospital bed to hug the man who had brought me back from a hellish existence. “I will,” I promised.
The next day, I got the call that Dr. Seastrunk had died.
• • •
My own health wasn’t stable enough for me to travel to North Carolina to be present in person for Judilyn’s case. Instead, I attended the depositions via Skype and stayed in contact with Bryan.
As the first deposition was taken of Judilyn Knight, the case nearly erupted in violence. Judilyn’s husband, Thomas, was extremely protective and wanted to sit in on the proceedings with her. But the defense attorney, a man as large as Thomas, refused to let him be present during the deposition.
The two men began arguing. As their voices escalated, they pushed their faces close together and the threat of violence permeated the air. Bryan had to physically place himself between the two men for fear that one would throw a punch at the other.
Other depositions for that case also turned surreal. The crop duster, Edward Owens Jr., had been cited eighteen times for violations by the North Carolina Department of Agriculture, more than any other crop duster in the state. Observing that the man was mentally slow, Bryan wondered whether Owens himself had been adversely affected by the pesticides he had used through the years. Owens admitted outright that he oversprayed occasionally, which resulted in chemical drippings, but insisted that he’d never done anything intentionally wrong despite his many citations.
“If Owens has been cited eighteen times by the State Department of Agriculture, how many times do you suppose he’s done it without getting caught?” Bryan asked me.
“I had the same thought,” I told him, “and it’s a scary one.”
One of the farmers, an older Southern gentleman wearing overalls, stated during his deposition that he often stood in the middle of his fields while they were being sprayed. “They fly right over me and drop them chemicals!” he said. “I breathe them in with no problem. It’s like rain, it’s so refreshing!”
“You mean you stand out there in the middle of your field and just breathe it in?” Bryan asked in astonishment.
The farmer continued to assert this was true.
After several depositions and significant discovery had occurred, we scheduled mediation, hoping to avoid a trial. Both sides present evidence during mediation, with the idea of giving a sneak peek at what would likely be revealed during a trial. This open exchange of evidence is meant to encourage both sides to settle the case.
At the mediation, the crop duster’s lawyer initially lowballed his settlement offer to Judilyn. Bryan thought there was space to start negotiating. However, Thomas was concerned about the additional stress being put on his wife by the lawsuit, since Judilyn’s health was already fragile.
“I just want the case to be over,” Judilyn said.
“I know,” I told her, “but if you fast-forward yourself years from now, you may not be happy if you agree to what they’re offering at this moment.”
“What would you do?” Judilyn asked.
“I wouldn’t settle this case,” I replied. “Not for the amount they’re offering. Let’s try the case.”
Judilyn’s husband, Thomas, spoke with me privately. “Alan, I don’t think you understand,” he said urgently. “She’s going backwards. She’s a mess. I don’t know if she can survive this. The stress is killing her.”
I urged him to look at the situation long term. “I realize she’s fragile,” I said, and meant it: I comprehended Judilyn’s weakened physical state better than anyone else involved in the case, since I had gone through the same rapid health decline.
When Judilyn first contacted me and flew to California, she was strong and sturdy despite her cognitive issues. Back then, she had expressed a willingness to do whatever it took to get justice for what happened to her, saying she wanted to “bring those people down.”
I was ready to do just that. But the Judilyn at mediation was not the same woman I’d met in California. Her physical condition had deteriorated drastically after she was belittled and beaten down by the crop duster’s legal team. She was physically and mentally exhausted and just wanted the pain to end.
Even so, I continued to urge Thomas to
look at what might take place in the future and push for more compensation. “If something happened to you, and you were unable to support your family, how would your wife and daughter survive financially?” I asked.
The mediation broke up that day without coming to an agreement, though the defense did agree that Edward Owens Jr. would surrender his crop-dusting license. The defense also tried to sweeten the pot with the offer of a bigger cash settlement.
I continued to recommend to both Judilyn and Thomas that a trial was worth the effort, since it would net them more money. But to avoid the stress of the trial, the couple opted to settle.
Despite the fact that Judilyn and her husband were the ones who ultimately made the decision to settle the case, I couldn’t help feeling yet again that justice had not been adequately served. What happened to this woman was a tragedy, and it was only a microcosm of the tragedies taking place worldwide. Big companies throw pennies to the people they’re hurting—people who are too badly injured to fight, even when their lawyers are ready to do battle.
Bryan shared my frustration. “No amount of money would compensate them fully for this level of injury,” he fumed later. “Even a billion dollars wouldn’t be enough to compensate this woman for having her life taken away.”
He was right. It was an unfair outcome. It’s a travesty of justice that insurance companies have almost unlimited legal budgets to spend on wearing victims down, hiring numerous experts who will say and do whatever it takes to screw the little guy. I sighed as I reflected on my own career prosecuting guilty people who were found innocent or innocent people who had been found guilty, and representing a top insurance company with deep pockets crammed with cash they doled out on lawsuits to defend their interests.
Judilyn, however, was mostly satisfied with the outcome. She said she hadn’t had much hope at all until getting in touch with me. On the larger question of pesticides and environmental poisoning, she said, “It’s really bad that people don’t know about chemical exposures and how sick they can make you. I’d like to see them be a lot more careful when they’re spraying pesticides. It really did ruin my life.”