Blood Money js-10

by James Grippando

  “Mrs. Laramore, has your daughter ever been diagnosed with a heart abnormality?”

  She was a demure figure in the witness stand. Concealer and fresh courtroom attire couldn’t hide the strain of the last nine days. Jack had told her to ignore the media, but her eyes cut across the courtroom in the direction of the television camera every few seconds. She was beyond nervous, to the point of distraction.

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “Mrs. Laramore,” the judge said, “you will have to speak a little louder.”

  “Yes,” she said, though it wasn’t much louder. “When Celeste was five, doctors told me she had something called long QT syndrome.”

  Jack remained behind the podium, leaving plenty of distance between himself and the witness, trying hard to make her feel less pressured. “I won’t ask you for a medical explanation of the condition,” he said. “We’ve already heard from a cardiologist. Is it your understanding that long QT syndrome is a kind of irregular heartbeat?”

  “That’s my understanding.”

  “And is this something that Celeste was treated for?”

  “Yes. From time to time.”

  “What kind of treatment have doctors prescribed for her in the past?”

  “There are medications you can take to control the irregularity.”

  “Did you give her those medications?”

  “Yes. As prescribed.”

  “How did she respond to those medications?”

  “She was fine. No problems.”

  “The medications controlled the irregular heartbeat?”

  “Yes, very well.”

  She held a wadded tissue in her hand, which she was squeezing into oblivion. Jack debated whether to stop right there, but he had just a couple more questions.

  “Now, did Celeste’s doctors ever tell you what could happen if she did not receive medication?”

  She swallowed hard, then spoke. “It could be a lot of things. She could feel dizzy. She could faint. Or, you know, worse.”

  “She could go into cardiac arrest, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did any doctor ever mention the possibility of a coma?”

  Her hands began to shake, and Jack regretted having put too fine a point on his question.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “It’s a whole litany of things. At the time I thought they were just trying to scare me into making sure that I was vigilant about giving her the medicine. I never thought. . I never thought it would actually happen.”

  She was at the point of breaking down. Jack had gone far enough. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  The witness rose quickly, eager to leave.

  “Mr. Gaines?” said the judge. “Cross-examination?”

  Mrs. Laramore stopped, and the dread on her face as she settled back into the hot seat was apparent even from where Jack was seated.

  Great television, I’m sure.

  “I have a few questions,” said Gaines as he approached the witness. He buttoned his coat, squared his shoulders, and stood tall. Mrs. Laramore seemed to shrink bit by bit with each tick of the clock.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Laramore. Let me start by saying how sorry I am about what happened to your daughter. But I’m sure Mr. Swyteck has explained to you that it is our position that BNN did nothing to cause these tragic circumstances.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Mrs. Laramore, can you tell me what long QT syndrome is?”

  “It’s a heartbeat irregularity.”

  “Oh, come now, you can do better than that, can’t you?”

  Jack rose. “Objection. Your Honor, we’ve had medical testimony.”

  Gaines said, “Mr. Swyteck asked for her understanding, Your Honor. It’s my right to explore the extent of her understanding.”

  “Overruled. But let’s keep this focused.”

  “Yes, Judge. Mrs. Laramore, do the best you possibly can. What is long QT syndrome?”

  She took a breath, let it out, then began. “An electrocardiogram measures electrical impulses as five distinct waves. Doctors label the waves using the letters P, Q, R, S, and T. The waves labeled Q through T show electrical activity in your heart’s lower chambers. The space between the start of the Q wave and the end of the T wave-the Q-T interval-is the amount of time it takes for your heart to contract and then refill with blood before beginning the next contraction.”

  Gaines nodded. “That’s pretty impressive.”

  “She’s my daughter.”

  “But that was probably better than most doctors could describe it.”

  “She’s had it all her life. I’ve learned a lot about it.”

  “You take a great deal of interest in your daughter’s medical condition, don’t you?”

  “What mother doesn’t?”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you take an abnormally high level of interest in your daughter’s health?”

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained. ‘Really’ is not a question in my courtroom, Mr. Gaines.”

  “Sorry, Judge. Now, Mrs. Laramore, your daughter was taken to Jackson Memorial Hospital early Sunday morning, nine days ago. When did you get there?”

  “Later that same day.”

  “And how much time have you spent at the hospital since then?”

  “Today is the first time I’ve set foot outside the hospital.”

  “Is that so? You sleep at the hospital?”

  “Yes. There’s a guest lounge right outside the ICU. I sleep on the couch.”

  “And when you’re not sleeping?”

  “I’m at my daughter’s side.”

  “When you say you’ve never set foot outside the hospital, do you mean that literally?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’ve never so much as walked out the door for some fresh air, taken a walk?”

  “No. If my daughter opens her eyes or even twitches a finger, I want to be there.”

  “So it’s not enough if your husband sees it. You have to see it.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  Jack rose. “Judge, I don’t understand the relevance of this, either. I object.”

  The judge leaned back, thinking. “I assume Mr. Gaines has a point.”

  “I do,” said Gaines.

  “Then make it. We’re getting dangerously close to lunchtime.”

  “Yes, Your Honor. Mrs. Laramore, let’s go back in time a bit. When Celeste was a child, is it fair to say you were equally attentive, always at her side when she was sick?”

  “I tried to be.”

  “Celeste was a sick child, wasn’t she?”

  “That depends on what you mean by ‘sick child.’”

  Gaines walked back to the podium and picked up a file folder. “Twenty-two visits to five different emergency rooms before the age of two. I would consider that ‘sick.’ How about you?”

  This kind of information would never have taken Jack by surprise if the case had proceeded to trial in the normal course. As it was, Jack was hearing it for the first time.

  “May I see that, counsel?” asked the judge.

  Gaines nodded. He handed a copy up to the judge and seemed more than happy to share as he gave another copy to Jack.

  Gaines continued, “Judge, we obtained these medical records from the Florida Department of Children and Family Services. The name of the child has been redacted to comply with privacy laws. I would ask the witness to review them and confirm that these are, in fact, medical records for her daughter.”

  The judge inspected the stack of records in his file, then looked up. “You may approach the witness, Mr. Gaines.”

  Gaines took firm, deliberate steps toward the witness stand. Terror was the only word to describe the expression on Mrs. Laramore’s face as he handed her the medical file. “Take your time,” Gaines told her, “and remember you are under oath when you tell Judge Burrows whether these are your daughte
r’s medical records.”

  Jack considered an objection, and upon seeing the papers shake violently in his client’s hand, his internal debate ended. “Judge, I object.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “This has nothing to do with the issue of whether BNN caused Celeste Laramore to go into a coma.”

  “To the contrary,” said Gaines, “it has everything to do with it. If I could just have a few follow-up questions.”

  “Objection is overruled,” said the judge. Then he leaned over the bench, looked the witness in the eye, and asked, “Mrs. Laramore, are these your daughter’s medical records?”

  If she had any inclination to lie, the judge’s stare had scared her out of it. “Yes,” she said. “They are.”

  “Thank you.”

  It may have been Jack’s imagination, but Gaines seemed to reposition himself for a better camera angle. “Let’s walk through some of them, shall we?” said Gaines. “Start with the one right on top. How old was your daughter at that time?”

  “Eight weeks.”

  “She was suffering from what?”

  “Severe dehydration and low blood pressure.”

  “Next chart. How old?”

  “Ten weeks.”

  “Chief medical complaint was what?”

  “Fever. Diarrhea. Vomiting.”

  “If you go down to the middle of the page to the line that is highlighted, the ER nurse reported that the temperature was normal, correct? No fever?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Next page. Your daughter was twelve weeks old. Chief medical complaint was what?”

  “Some kind of rash.”

  “Some kind of rash, huh?”

  “And sleep apnea.”

  “Was there any verification of the apnea?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Look at the next highlighted line. Could you read that aloud, please?”

  Her hand was shaking. It took her a moment to steady the paper and read it. “It says ‘Apnea-as reported by mother.’”

  The judge interrupted. “Counsel, do you intend to go through each and every one of these records? It’s quite a stack.”

  “My point is almost made,” Gaines said. “Let me get straight to the bottom line. Mrs. Laramore, turn to the page that is flagged by the yellow Post-it, about two-thirds of the way down your stack of records there.”

  Jack followed along with copies.

  “Can you tell the court what this is?” asked Gaines.

  “It’s a blood test report.”

  “Blood test for your daughter, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you read the highlighted portion of the box at the bottom of the report, please?”

  Jack glanced at his own page. He saw the answer that Mrs. Laramore finally uttered: “High concentration of diuretic,” said Mrs. Laramore.

  “The blood test confirmed that someone was giving your daughter a high dose of a diuretic, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Had any doctor prescribed a diuretic?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “In fact, that would have been a really stupid thing to prescribe, wouldn’t it, for a child who had presented to the emergency room for dehydration”-he paused to check his notes-“eleven times?”

  “That wouldn’t be smart, no.”

  “And yet someone,” he said, his voice taking on an edge, “was giving your daughter diuretics.”

  “According to the blood test, yes.”

  He moved closer, tightening his figurative grip on the witness. “Mrs. Laramore, you’re aware, are you not, that excessive use of diuretics can cause long QT syndrome?”

  “Objection,” Jack shouted.

  “Sustained.”

  “That’s fine,” said Gaines. “If the court wishes, we can bring in a dozen doctors who will testify to that fact.”

  “The court wishes you to ask your next question.”

  “Yes, Judge. Mrs. Laramore, doctors have told you, have they not, that your daughter’s heart condition was caused by excessive use of diuretics?”

  “Objection.”

  “No, I’m going to allow that one,” said the judge. “It’s a different question.”

  The witness shifted uneasily. “Yes. Doctors have told me that.”

  There was a murmur across the courtroom, as if the observers sensed that Gaines had truly scored.

  Gaines took another step closer, his voice rising. “Mrs. Laramore, you gave your daughter those diuretics, didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You caused her long QT syndrome.”

  “No!”

  “Objection!” Jack shouted. “This is pure harassment.”

  Gaines repositioned himself yet again, as if someone had pointed out the perfect spot in the courtroom for TV coverage. “Judge, we intend to show that the QT syndrome was caused by the victim’s own mother, who presents a classic case of Munchausen syndrome by proxy.”

  “What?” said Jack.

  “Her daughter presented to the ER nearly every two weeks before her second birthday. Mrs. Laramore shows a high level of understanding of her daughter’s medical condition. She has never left her daughter’s side since she’s been hospitalized. This is a psychology that thrives on the illness of children. The diuretics given to her daughter caused symptoms that fed the mother’s illness, but they also caused long-term heart problems for Celeste.”

  “Judge,” said Jack, “it doesn’t matter how Celeste got long QT syndrome. The point is that it’s treatable and would not have resulted in a coma if BNN had not interfered with the transmission of vital information from the ambulance.”

  “I’ll sustain the objection. Counsel, please approach the bench.”

  Jack came forward, and Gaines stood with him at the judge’s bench.

  “Mr. Swyteck, your objection is well founded because, yes, in a strict legal sense, you are right: It doesn’t matter how Celeste got long QT syndrome. The law says that a wrongdoer takes the victim as he finds her. I’m sure Mr. Gaines is well aware of that rule of law. But if these allegations of Munchausen syndrome by proxy are true, Mr. Swyteck, you need to settle this case. To be blunt about it, the sympathy value of your case has been neutralized. These are smart lawyers you’re up against. They are going to find a way to get this information before the jury if and when this case goes to trial. If not in the courtroom, it will definitely be in the media. And as much as I tell jurors not to read newspapers or watch TV, they do. This is the sort of thing they will hold against your case and your client.”

  “I guess that’s why BNN wanted today’s hearing on television,” Jack said, unable to resist a swipe.

  “That’s an outrageous accusation,” said Gaines.

  “I won’t ascribe any motives to anyone,” said the judge. “I’m denying BNN’s motion to dismiss the case. But take my warning to heart, Mr. Swyteck. You’ve got serious problems.”

  Jack turned away and glanced at Mrs. Laramore in the witness chair.

  Don’t I know it.

  “The witness may step down,” the judge announced. “We’re adjourned.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  " I don’t want to talk about it.”

  That was all Virginia Laramore said to Jack after the hearing before Judge Burrows. Jack was fine with it, at least until the handful of inquisitive reporters stopped trailing them out of the courthouse, down the granite steps, and to the parking lot. The media coverage wasn’t nearly as extensive as it had been for the Sydney Bennett hearing, but one reporter followed them all the way to the car, asking over and over, “Mrs. Laramore, did you abuse your daughter?” The question was met with silence, punctuated by Jack slamming the driver’s-side door.

  Jack was behind the wheel and turning onto Flagler Street when his client finally opened up.

  “Celeste was adopted.”

  Jack hit the brake, then looked straight at her. “What?”

  “All
those medical records are from the time she was with her birth mother. Ben and I adopted her after HRS took her away and she was put in foster care.”

  Jack pulled the car over to the curb and put it in PARK. It wasn’t easy to get tough with a woman whose daughter was in a coma, but Jack was losing patience. “Why didn’t you tell me that? And, for God’s sake, why didn’t you shove it in Ted Gaines’ face when he attacked you like that?”

  “Because Ben and I have never told anyone outside the family that Celeste is adopted. And I’ve never even told Celeste that her birth mother was abusive. I wasn’t about to make that blowhard Ted Gaines the first person to hear it. Especially not on television. Celeste has already made enough headlines for his disgraceful client.”

  Jack couldn’t disagree. “I’m sorry you had to go through that today,” he said.

  “It’s the second worst thing I’ve ever had to deal with.”

  Jack knew the first.

  “Can we get back to the hospital, please? I want to be with Celeste.”

  Jack put the car in gear and drove. Instinct told him that Mrs. Laramore would have preferred to ride in silence, but questions remained, and Jack was running out of time. He’d spoken to Ben Laramore about the visitation records from the women’s detention center and gotten no explanation. He needed to ask again.

  “Why did Celeste visit Sydney Bennett in jail?”

  Mrs. Laramore was looking out the side window. “I’m no more help than Ben on that one. We don’t know.”

  “Why do you think she went? Your best guess.”

  “No idea.”

  “Celeste’s roommate told me that Celeste also visited Neil Goderich, Sydney’s first lawyer. We’ve searched through all Neil’s notes and can’t find a single record of their meeting.”

  “Maybe it never happened.”

  “Can you think of any reason why Celeste would have met with him?”

  “A formality, maybe? She wanted to visit Sydney and needed to clear it with her lawyer. But that’s just a guess.”

  It seemed like a reasonable guess. “But that still doesn’t tell us why she wanted to visit Sydney.”

  “No,” Mrs. Laramore said as she massaged the bridge of her nose. “This is giving me a headache.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to press. This adoption news may be leading me down the wrong path, but it may be the answer to some of the questions I’ve been asking myself. Questions that started with those photographs of Celeste that Ben sent me.”