by Melissa Hill
I guess I’d hoped that she wouldn’t come across so overtly sympathetic toward Madeleine on the day, but deep down I’d always known that she’d try her utmost to do right by both of us.
And I couldn’t help but admire her for that.
Now she stood at my sink, insistent on washing pots and pans as I sat at my kitchen table—Rosie parked beside me in her wheelchair.
“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” I asked my daughter. She gave a small nod and raised her hand just a bit. She had been wanting to try to feed herself lately, and more often than not it resulted in a huge mess and major frustration on her part.
It was like she was completely aware of what she wanted to do and what she was capable of, but she just couldn’t get her body to comply. There was a disconnect somewhere, one that she was trying her hardest to relearn—but I didn’t discourage her progress. I placed the spoon in her hand and pushed a bowl of mashed potatoes closer to her.
“So when is Declan coming?” asked Lucy, turning her attention to me. Quickly, she reached for some paper towels and brought them over, placing the roll stealthily on the table. While many people had expressed shock and discomfort at Rosie’s condition over the past year, Lucy had not.
She continued to be the great friend she’d always been and I really didn’t know what I’d do without her.
“He said he was going to change out of his suit.” I don’t know why, but I felt myself flushing and I hoped Lucy didn’t notice.
“Hmm,” she replied pointedly. Damn. So she had seen that blush. At the same moment a quiet knock came from the front as Declan entered the room and gave us all a smile.
“And speak of the devil.”
“Who’s calling me a devil?” he joked, leaning over to ruffle Rosie’s hair—which earned him a sparkling smile from my daughter—before sitting down on the other side of her wheelchair.
Though he was initially a little uncomfortable about my ongoing friendship with Lucy given her relationship with Madeleine, Declan had since gotten to know her well enough to realize that, unlike his cousin, she was doing her best to remain partisan in the situation.
Tucking into our food, we chatted easily, Declan all the while including Rosie in the conversation, even though she could hardly contribute. He’d been the same way with her ever since she’d come home, and I couldn’t deny that it melted my heart a little.
We’d never spoken again about the embrace that had led to that photograph in the Daily Record last year and had been extra careful to keep our distance ever since. These days we had a nice, easy friendship, which was exactly how I liked it.
“I didn’t get to talk to you after you left with Alison,” I said, deciding to broach a concern I had about today. “I wasn’t altogether sure what McGuinness was suggesting during Dr. Ryan’s testimony about the timeline of Rosie’s infection. Am I reading too much into it?”
Declan accepted the glass of wine that Lucy had poured, took a sip and then nodded.
“He was pressing on that a bit, all right. And remember we had a few misgivings ourselves about how in-depth we wanted to get with that. In case something came back to bite us.”
“Like what, though?” Lucy asked. “Madeleine and Tom admitted from the start that Clara must have picked it up in Florida.”
I nodded. “And Dr. Ryan said today that tracing it back to one source, when only two people were affected, is practically impossible.”
“Maybe, but it’s the defense’s job to pick holes and introduce doubt,” said Declan, in between mouthfuls of mashed potato. “They’re merely trying to introduce the idea that it’s impossible to prove where the infection was picked up.”
Lucy wiped her hands on a dish towel. “So they’re just trying to make it look inconclusive? Like, yes, maybe the girls were at school together, but really either one could have passed it to the other?”
“Exactly. If so, then how can the judge categorically rule that the Coopers are to blame?”
“But they must be—Clara got sick three days before Rosie,” I protested, getting anxious now, even though I wasn’t comfortable discussing this topic in front of Rosie when she couldn’t participate in the conversation. But Hazel, her rehab nurse, insisted that she shouldn’t be sheltered or made to feel isolated, because we had no real idea of what she did or didn’t understand. And the more we included her, the easier—psychologically at least—her recovery would be.
I also knew Declan wasn’t too keen on discussing the case in front of Lucy—friend or not.
“That may be so,” he said, his easygoing manner reassuring me somewhat, “but in court, if the defense can find and pinpoint any weakness in our case, then they will. And, Kate, I told you from the start that this was always going to come up. Remember the counterclaim?”
I nodded, remembering. But I still didn’t like the idea of the defense trying to suggest that there was no way to prove that Clara had introduced the infection to Rosie. It made it too easy for the judge to let them off.
That couldn’t happen—we couldn’t lose—not after all the time and effort we’d spent getting this far. Not to mention money—the thought came unbidden and I swallowed hard.
My body felt exhausted, but my brain continued to feel on high alert and my mind wouldn’t stop working.
“Is there anything else you need, Kate?” asked Lucy, evidently picking up on my concern. “A cup of tea, maybe?” She wouldn’t stop pottering around the kitchen and I waved her over.
“Yes, come and sit down with us; you’re making Declan nervous,” I joked. While I was used to her need to constantly be doing something, he wasn’t and I could tell by the look on his face that it did make him uncomfortable.
“You’ll get used to it.” I smiled, only realizing a beat later how weird that sounded. This was a temporary situation; when I was no longer his client, I wouldn’t see him anymore, so he wouldn’t be getting used to anything. That thought left me a little confounded, not to mention wistful. This last year, I had gotten so used to having him around as a confidant and friend.
“Lucy knows my life better than I do sometimes,” I said looking at my friend, feeling thankful she was there. “I don’t know what I would do without her.” I reached out then and grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thanks for being at court today and for the moral support—I know it’s hard...with everything. But I do appreciate it.” I reached for my daughter’s hand, too. “And Rosie appreciates all you’ve done for us, too.”
Lucy smiled at the compliment. She never asked for thanks—even after Greg passed away—and she seemed to never tire of helping me. But I knew she did appreciate basking a little in the attention—especially after the strain of today.
I was also glad to have moved away from my idiotic, overfamiliar comment to Declan. However, if he was in the least bit fazed by what I’d said, he didn’t show it.
Lucy, however, shot me a knowing look. She had of course in the meantime pumped me for information about our unusually close client/solicitor relationship as well as about that infamous picture in the newspaper. But I’d insisted repeatedly that there was nothing to tell.
Nothing at all.
43
Madeleine tapped her fingers impatiently on the wooden table before her. It was only the third day of the trial, but yet it felt like the third year.
Her nerves were absolutely shot, and while she understood that it was standard to get through all of the plaintiff’s witnesses first, it was beginning to feel like each and every person going on the stand had it in for her.
In particular, that Health Service representative yesterday, who seemed to be holding her personally responsible for the recent decline in MMR vaccination uptake that had the Health Board concerned about the herd-immunity threshold. Which had even resulted in government pressure to bring this very trial date forward “
in the interest of public safety.”
That was all they needed, to be held responsible for a public health epidemic as well as Rosie O’Hara’s plight. The judge really needed to hear from someone who would paint her and Tom in a more impartial and sympathetic light.
Because Madeleine had realized a long time ago that it wasn’t just her and Tom’s decision on vaccination that was on trial here—it was their parenting.
She stole a sidelong look at her husband and Matt Townsend. As per the norm, they had their heads pressed together with Michael McGuinness discussing strategy, and only rarely did they include her. This made her mad, as well. The case was affecting her life...she was heavily involved...and she had lots of opinions—shouldn’t she be included in these discussions, too?
Not for the first time, Madeleine started to doubt that the team was taking the right direction. Every once in a while she thought that their barrister might display a flash of brilliance from a legal standpoint, but all too often she felt that they freely allowed the plaintiff’s side to make everything too personal, so as to make circumstances more real and heartbreaking to the judge.
And their side was missing that.
This was a very personal thing, too, and her and Tom’s decision to not vaccinate the kids was not something they took lightly. They had to be able to convey that and put an end to the conspiracy-theory nonsense that had been endlessly spouted by the media and everyone else who disagreed with their stance.
Of course, she had said as much many times, but Matt and the barrister had said just “Wait until the plaintiff rests and then we’ll have our say.” She guessed that she would have to trust them and believe Tom that his family’s testimony would do the necessary in that regard. However, Madeleine suspected that no one was going to be able to hit that point home more than her.
Then again, she’d tried that last year with the blog post, hadn’t she? Tried speaking from the heart and explaining her position—only for Tom and Matt to insist she take the piece down before it had made barely a ripple.
Hardly anyone had viewed it, and she was almost certain Kate hadn’t, which was a shame. Because, more than anything, Madeleine had wanted to get through to Kate and let her know that she was so sorry for what had happened.
But she had never truly been allowed to have her say.
* * *
The plaintiff side duly confirmed that their case had rested, and Matt Townsend was ready to start presenting the Coopers’ defense.
The last few days had been character assassinations of his clients at best, and while Michael McGuinness had experienced a few wins during cross-examination of the plaintiff’s witnesses, he felt Madeleine’s and Tom’s frustration growing—not to mention his own.
Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for clients to get upset during the trial, but he really needed to regain some lost footing here—especially since the other side couldn’t actually prove that it was the Coopers’ kid who spread the disease. Their very own witnesses had confirmed that.
Looking down at his notes, he heard the defense barrister announce to Judge Dowling that the first witness they would like to call was Dr. Terrence Pitt.
Matt had of course vetted this guy thoroughly in preparation, but it was Tom who had found him initially. It seemed that Pitt was used to appearing in courtrooms all over the world, and he seemed very legit.
Hopefully, his viewpoint would go a long way toward undoing some of the damage the Roe & Co. had caused, and help present his clients in a more rational, levelheaded light.
Dr. Pitt stood up from where he sat and regally made his way forward, almost as if he expected to be saluted for his stature within the medical community. After taking his spot on the witness stand, he was sworn in and then placed an expectant look on his face, awaiting the first question.
“Dr. Pitt, for the benefit of the court, could you give us an overview of your professional biography?”
The man nodded and Matt assessed that the guy couldn’t be more than forty-five—compared to the plaintiff’s expert witnesses, he looked baby-faced.
“Of course, and I am happy to be here today, thank you,” stated Dr. Pitt with some significant bluster, as if he was about to accept an Academy Award. “I graduated with my medical degree from the University of California in Los Angeles in 2002. I am a ranking member of the California Medical Review Board and ran a lab as an assistant professor of neurology at Caltech.”
“And can you tell us why you came to Dublin to testify today?”
Pitt nodded. “Well, for the majority of my career, I confess I believed in the power of vaccines, and I never questioned any of it until I met my wife. She is a chiropractor, and her experience truly opened my eyes to the world of holistic medicine and natural therapies.”
“And can you explain what you mean by that?” McGuinness asked.
“Of course,” Dr. Pitt replied easily. “Diseases like chicken pox, measles, mumps, rubella and the like are all part of the natural world. It is actually vaccines that are unnatural and man-made. The human body, for thousands of years, has had the capability and the biological ability to counter these viruses, to attack these attackers, essentially. And our bodies still do. Vaccines, in essence, are a manufactured solution to a problem that doesn’t exist.”
“And where do you believe the danger lies with vaccines?” inquired the defense barrister.
“Vaccination requires unnatural chemicals and components to be applied to an otherwise healthy individual. Think about it: virtually all other invasive medical interventions occur only once someone has actually fallen ill. And this is where the risk lies—and I suspect that the plaintiff herself would agree with me on this—”
Patrick Nevin jumped up from where he sat. “Objection. Speculation.”
“Sustained,” replied the judge a moment later.
“Yes, well, without bringing the plaintiff’s opinion into the equation, can you please continue?” pressed McGuinness.
“Certainly,” replied Dr. Pitt, continuing with his testimony. “In my studies, I’ve found that the dangers of vaccines are just as real as the diseases they profess to fight; the effects of the ingredients used in some can themselves be substantial, lifelong and, for some people, life ending. For instance, vaccines have not been subject to intensive toxicity studies for many ingredients, such as aluminum and mercury, which are known neurotoxins. Vaccines have also not been studied for adverse effects in the combinations in which they’re given—for example, when multiple shots are given in a single day to infants and children. Furthermore, and perhaps most important of all, most vaccines are not even guaranteed to provide the benefit of immunity for which they are given.”
Matt was heartened to see the judge raise his eyebrows at this. “Explain further please, Doctor,” he interjected. “Do you have statistics to back that up?”
“I do, but the plaintiff’s own expert agrees with me. I believe Dr. Goring proclaimed that the MMR vaccine has a 97 percent effective rate for measles. That means we can vaccinate a child but there is still a 3 percent chance they will contract the virus at some point in their lives. And I have to stress that point—some people can still contract the illness, even if they have been vaccinated.”
“And you are quoting which study?” McGuinness coaxed.
“One conducted by the Center for Disease Control and Prevention as a follow-up to the California measles outbreak in 2014, again already mentioned in this court,” stated Dr. Pitt matter-of-factly. “Some people who have both recommended doses of the MMR vaccine are considered nonresponders, meaning they can still get sick from the virus. So if you think about it, you cannot say that vaccines alone prevent a virus from spreading, as so many in the pro-vaccination community like to claim. To illustrate this: if there were one million people infected in an outbreak, ten thousand of the people who received vaccinations w
ould still get sick. In the scheme of things, that’s something worth thinking about. It completely undermines this so-called herd immunity, and the fact that disease is going to spread, regardless. The mere fact that more people don’t get sick is a testament to nature alone.”
“Objection,” said Nevin, again. “Speculation.”
“Overruled,” answered the judge just as quickly as before, and Townsend couldn’t help but smirk. Pitt’s testimony about vaccination effectiveness really was having an impact on the judge.
Looked like they were getting somewhere.
“Go on, Doctor,” encouraged Judge Dowling.
“I was about to say, this is nature at its best. Children should be contracting various infections. It strengthens humanity’s immune system as a whole. This is survival of the fittest. However, it’s impossible to place blame on who spread what and who caught it, or when, because no one is at fault when nature is doing what it is supposed to do. Nature needs to thin the herd.”
Across the way, Matt heard Kate O’Hara gasp, realizing what Pitt was implying, that if her daughter had died, it would have been nature simply “taking its course.”
Damn. Too harsh.
A rustle duly came from the media gallery and Matt Townsend winced, worried that Pitt might have taken things too far. Hopefully, McGuinness would steer him back on track.
“But, Dr. Pitt, surely you are compassionate to the plight of the families in this courtroom—to the plight of all children who might be affected by this terrible disease—” The barrister was about to move on to another line of questioning, but Dr. Pitt cut him off.
“I don’t think you understand my point, sir. Children should be getting these infections,” he said, his voice raising. “We do not need to inject chemicals into ourselves and our children in order to boost our immune system. I personally am a big fan of paleo-nutrition. My children eat foods that our ancestors have been eating for millions of years. This is the best way to protect. And then you don’t play into the hands of Big Pharma, either. I completely support the Coopers’ belief that governments, pharmaceutical companies and multinational corporations are not helping our children, but profiting from them.”