by Sydney Bauer
And so as he glanced across the room – Cavanaugh, Davis, Wright and Montgomery to his right, Adams and his serious-faced assistant attorneys to his left – he made himself a promise to every now and again look beyond the ‘front line’ to the people who sat behind them. It was his own personal way of reminding himself what a hearing was truly about – by looking into the faces of those most affected by what had occurred and perhaps, more importantly, what was to come.
He found them then – Karin Montgomery seated with Cavanaugh’s secretary behind the defence; Melissa Bryant Bradshaw seated directly behind Adams, sandwiched between her famous mother to her right and FBI Agents Ramirez and King to her left – and he tried to get a sense of what his role should be. Two startlingly different women who were the secondary victims of murder and punishment, their faces would be the foundation, he told himself, upon which his final decision would be made.
‘Your Honour,’ Charles ‘Grizzly’ Adams was on his feet, determined to win back control of what was nothing short of a personal and professional catastrophe.
Half an hour was all he needed – half an hour to clear his head, decide on a game plan and whip his associates into action. Cavanaugh’s motion to dismiss was nothing short of a blatant call to arms, and Grizzly was nothing if not a man always on the ready for combat. And now he had his first weapon lodged firmly in his large right hand, ready to launch at will.
‘Before Mr Cavanaugh calls his first witness,’ Adams went on, ‘and given this is an evidentiary hearing whereby you must decide whether or not to grant the defence’s rather extraordinary motion to dismiss, I would like to precede Mr Cavanaugh’s agenda with one all-important piece of evidence.’
Adams held the black tape high above his head, and kept it there while he approached the bench – or more specifically a television and video recorder to the right of Donovan’s platform which he had arranged to be wheeled in during the thirty-minute recess.
‘This, Your Honour, is a one-hour security tape, recorded on the evening of Saturday 30 April. It shows all activity in the corridor immediately outside the Vice President’s suite at the Fairmont Copley Plaza Hotel. The images do not lie, Your Honour, and I suggest before we proceed any further with this presentation, we view the truth as it happened – minute by minute, second by second, fact by fact.’
David jumped to his feet and Adams braced himself for the objection – but to his surprise Cavanaugh said two very simple words.
‘Good idea.’
Good idea!
‘The defence have no problem with this, Your Honour, in fact we think it is an excellent way to start today’s proceedings.’
And so a completely confused Adams slammed his tape into the machine, lined it up, pressed ‘play’ and officially allowed the show to begin.
In, out. In, out. In, out.
Adams replayed it over and over: Montgomery entering Bradshaw’s suite, Montgomery leaving it. Montgomery entering, Montgomery leaving, and so on and so on and so on.
‘Four minutes, Your Honour,’ said Adams, pausing the tape again. ‘Four minutes and sixteen seconds to be exact – more than enough time for the defendant to enter the Vice President’s suite and inject him with the OxyContin that killed him. Was he careful? Yes. Was he thorough? Obviously. Did he leave Tom Bradshaw alone to drown in the lethal narcotic only to be discovered by the wife who adored him? Most certainly.’
David realised Adams was using the tape in an attempt to destroy David’s argument before it even began. He also knew the Trial Attorney, and the crowd behind him, were waiting for him to object, but he said nothing.
‘Did he forget one small detail, Your Honour?’ Adams went on. ‘Yes, luckily. In the form of exhibit 21, a plastic syringe cover containing a clear thumb print belonging to that of the defendant.’
Adams paused before going on, gradually making his way towards the centre of the room, turning slowly so that his comments were not just directed at the Judge, but also at the ‘audience’ before him.
‘Mr Cavanaugh is right, Your Honour, showing this tape was a good idea because in the end, no one can dispute the fact Professor Stuart Montgomery was the only unexpected visitor in the Vice President’s room prior to his death.’
Adams lifted his large hands again, this time using them to ‘tick off’ the other individuals who had visited Bradshaw’s suite – the strobing light casting alternate ‘animal’ shadows on the dark carpeted floor before him.
‘Vice President Bradshaw had scheduled a short meeting with his oldest friend CIA Director Richard Ryan. He knew FBI Agent Ramirez would be checking the suite’s security, the housemaid, a Miss Maeve Barlow, visited briefly but left the Vice President well and truly alive and his wife, who left the room briefly to see if her mother, White House Chief of Staff Maxine Bryant, had arrived at the hotel, now regrets those moments in which she left her husband alone so that a man she trusted, Professor Stuart Montgomery could abuse his role as her husband’s carer and extinguish his life instead.’
And then Adams curled all five fingers into his large round fist.
‘And that was the ultimate betrayal, Your Honour – the Professor abusing his role as a life saver and poisoning a man who had bravely fought his addiction for decades. But don’t take my word for it,’ said Adams, shaking his head, a half smile of understanding on his wide, ruddy face. ‘For I may be a Department of Justice Trial Attorney but my medical knowledge, as you can understand, is extremely limited.
‘I note that Mr Cavanaugh intended to call Boston Medical Examiner Gus Svenson to testify before this hearing today and I would suggest, if Mr Cavanaugh has no objections, that we invite Dr Svenson to the stand forthwith. For I believe Dr Svenson may be able to clarify the specifics of what occurred within that suite in the moments leading up to the Vice President’s death.’
Judge Donovan looked beyond the theatrical master that was Trial Attorney Adams towards the defence table, lifting his eyes above his glasses before asking, ‘Well, what do you say, Mr Cavanaugh? I tend to agree with Mr Adams.’
The Judge saw his clerk re-enter the back of the room with an electrician and motioned them forward before going on.
‘Once we have some acceptable form of illumination, I believe it would be an opportune time to hear Dr Svenson’s take on all of this.’
‘I agree, Your Honour,’ said David to a courtroom stunned once again. ‘It seems Mr Adams is full of good ideas today. In fact, if he would like to question the witness first I have no objections – not a single one.’
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‘You have to remember,’ said Svenson moments later, the newly tended to pendulum light burning with a fresh boost of wattage that bounced off Svenson’s white blond hair like a beacon. ‘That when used responsibly OxyContin can be a very effective form of pain relief.’
‘How so, Dr Svenson?’ asked an interested Adams. ‘How does the drug work?’
‘OxyContin is an opioid antagonist which acts by attaching itself to specific proteins called opioid receptors. When this occur, the receptors effectively block transmission of pain messages to brain. OxyContin is especially effective if taken correctly – if swallowed whole in protected tablet form, the drug release slowly controlling pain for up to and over twelve hours.’
‘But if abused?’
‘If abused – if pulverised before consuming, if ground and diluted and injected, or chewed inside mouth – the controlled delivery mechanism is eliminated which leads to all sorts of complications.’
‘Such as?’ asked Adams.
‘Respiratory depression, cyanosis, extreme somnolence progressing to stupor or coma, skeletal muscle flaccidity, cold and clammy skin, and sometimes bradycardia and hypotension. In serious overdosage, apnea, circulatory collapse, cardiac arrest and death may occur.’
‘And an injection of 160mg – would that be enough to kill a man of say above average build, a man like Tom Bradshaw?’
‘Yes. The 160mg is the highest dosage available and u
sually only prescribed for cancer sufferers in severe pain. Drug users build up a resistance to such opioids so perhaps years ago the Vice President may have survived such a dose – but this time, obviously, the dose was more than enough.’
‘So there is no doubt in your mind, given your twelve years of medical experience, that the OxyContin injected into the Vice President’s left arm, was the cause of death.’
‘No question,’ said Svenson and Adams looked at Judge Donovan before handing the witness to the defence.
David did not rush from his seat. On the contrary he sat there a minute longer, looking down, focusing on nothing in particular and tapping his pen on the top of the desk before him. The courtroom was on tenterhooks, the prosecution no doubt assuming he was at a loss as to how to proceed, and the press most likely of the opinion the defence had made a major blunder by pulling this ridiculous ‘motive to dismiss’ stunt in the first place.
‘Mr Cavanaugh,’ said Donovan as last. ‘Do you require a recess or . . .’
‘No, thank you, Your Honour,’ said David, finally rising to his feet. ‘I was just considering something Dr Svenson had said about OxyContin causing death in a man of the Vice President’s stature. His answer was “yes or no” – or rather that if the Vice President had taken the drug while he was a user, he might have survived. That is what you said,’ said David, now getting to his feet, ‘wasn’t it Dr Svenson?’
‘Yes,’ said Svenson.
‘But the Vice President had been “clean” for over twenty years.’ David started towards the witness. ‘His regular medical checks, the results of which were made readily available to the public, showed us as much.’
‘Yes.’
‘In fact, Dr Svenson, correct me if I am wrong, but I believe you found no evidence to suggest the Vice President was currently using or abusing any form of common narcotic.’
‘No – I mean to say yes, that is right.’
‘Okay,’ said David, nodding his head as if to reinforce the point before moving on. ‘Now, Dr Svenson, let’s talk about this drug called OxyContin. It is a favourite amongst some drug addicts, is it not, because it can be used as a substitute for heroin, providing the same instantaneous “rush”.’
‘Yes,’ said Svenson. ‘Similar high.’
‘But you would have to say, that after twenty years of resisting the urge to take drugs, the Vice President would be understandably adverse to the idea of someone coercing him into walking that road again – into forcing him to feel that deadly rush that once threatened to take his life.’
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you, Doctor,’ said David, moving back to his desk before turning to face Judge Donovan. ‘Your Honour, at this point I would like to draw the court’s attention to exhibits 25–51, namely the photographs of the deceased – and more specifically the state of his immediate surrounds.’
David removed the photos from the evidence bag and handed them to the clerk who walked towards the front of the room passing them up to the Judge. As Donovan started to flick through the pictures of the murder scene David noted every neck in the courtroom was craning to catch a glimpse of each and every shot. The Judge flipped them over into a neatly stacked pile.
‘So tell me, Doctor,’ said David, moving to the front of the room again and turning his attention once more to Svenson. ‘Do you have a medical explanation as to why the Vice President’s bed sheets were so neat, why his shirt cuff was so evenly folded, why there was no sign of a struggle, why he seemed to have accepted this drug willingly into his twenty-year drug free system, without one single hint of objection? Because, we all know the Vice President was “clean”, and as such would have fought any attempt to inject him with . . .’
‘Well actually, yes, I do,’ said Svenson, and the entire room seemed to lean instinctively forward before settling into a new level of stillness.
David could see Adams was about to object but was obviously unsure as to what he could object to. Better still, the man behind him – ADIC Antonio Ramirez – seemed to shift in his seat, the slightest trace of concern on his otherwise expressionless face.
‘And that would be?’ asked David.
‘Succinylcholine,’ said Svenson.
‘I beg your pardon, Doctor?’
‘Succinylcholine. There was evidence of Succinylcholine – or rather its metabolised derivative, succinylmonocholine in the Vice President’s system.’
‘Suc·ci·nyl·cho·line,’ said David slowly so that the drug became an accessible, pronounceable word. ‘And where did you find evidence of this new drug, Doctor?’
‘In the Vice President’s urine,’ said Svenson.
‘Objection,’ yelled Adams now on his feet, his loud interruption triggering a rise in murmur and unrest from the equally as confused crowd.
‘Sit down, Mr Adams,’ said Donovan. ‘If I recall it was you who suggested Dr Svenson be heard. So be heard he will. This is not a jury trial, Mr Adams, but an evidentiary hearing, so I suggest you allow your witness to provide the evidence he was called to give. Continue, Doctor,’ said the Judge, turning back to the witness.
Svenson nodded. ‘Succinylcholine is clear, colourless. It metabolises so rapidly that it is completely undetectable in the blood. The urine was taken by attending paramedics and frozen in case there was need for further testing.’
‘And what exactly does this suc·ci·nyl·cho·line do?’
‘Succinylcholine is a very short-acting muscle relaxant. It blocks the neuromuscular junction by combining with the cholinergic receptors and depolarising them.’
‘In other words . . .’ said David, urging Gus to play it for the laymen.
‘In other words, onset of paralysis is rapid, less than two minutes, and lasts for about four to six minutes after administration.’
‘So within one to two minutes of injection, this drug paralyses the victim, makes him unable to move. Like a paraplegic,’ David confirmed.
‘Yes.’
David paused there, allowing this new, shocking evidence to be absorbed by the horrified masses before him. The level of noise in the gallery rose to a new high, forcing Donovan to call for order so that David might continue, and Svenson shed new light on the torture their beloved Vice President had endured.
‘Is the victim unconscious after the administration of this drug, Dr Svenson?’
‘No. Very much alert, awake. Can’t speak, can’t move, can’t breathe but still aware. The drug is used to immobilise patients so that doctors might undertake procedures which require stillness such as intubation. Of course, normally this anaesthetic is used under controlled hospital conditions with alternative breathing apparatus on hand.’
‘So you are saying someone injected the Vice President with succinylcholine, to render him immobile – so that he could not fight back – and then administered the second drug.’
‘Yes, and somehow helped him to breathe, otherwise the second drug, the OxyContin, would not have been noted as the official cause of death. The Vice President must have been breathing – his blood circulating, for the OxyContin to be absorbed and take effect.’
‘So allow me to clarify, Doctor,’ said David, now turning to face his audience beyond. ‘Someone injected Tom Bradshaw with a killer anaesthetic, rendered him paralysed, and then kept him alive, perhaps by administering mouth to mouth or some other form of resuscitation, long enough to kill him “officially” with the recorded drug of choice,’ said David, now shaking his head.
‘Yes.’
David looked up at the crowd again. ‘And all the time, he was awake, watching his own murder occur before his very eyes.’
‘Yes. Sadly, I believe this to be so.’
It was as if the air had been sucked from the room in one almighty gasp, followed by what could only be described as a series of mournful moans as the people realised the true horror of how their hero had died.
And then there was a pause, a few seconds of nothingness until . . .
‘Objection.�
�� Adams was up. He could no doubt see the shock in the Judge’s eyes and was determined to put an end to this line of questioning. ‘Your Honour, this is outrageous. Why is it we have not heard of this drug before?’
‘Most likely because he didn’t ask, Your Honour,’ said David before the Judge could reply. ‘It is common practice for both defence and prosecution counsel to have access to additional tests by the medical examiner’s office. These tests were carried out late last week, at our request.’
‘Then the defence has failed to meet its responsibility in regards to disclosure of discovery,’ countered Adams.
‘I’m sorry, Your Honour, but as of this morning we have not received a formal request for disclosure from the Trial Attorney’s Office. As Mr Adams knows, legally we require such a request to proceed with the release of all relevant items of discovery.’
David could not help himself. He turned to look Adams directly in the eye. The prosecution had made such a ‘song and dance’ about the defence’s failure to request discovery – thus giving them a legal loophole to release the ‘letter’ to the press, but in all their brazen over-confidence, had failed as yet to file a reciprocal request to the defence.
David knew the prosecution’s oversight was not so much a case of mismanagement – more a blatant arrogance on their part as they no doubt believed the defence had nothing of value to contribute.
Adams was ashen-faced and David was sure one of his ambitious assistant attorneys was about to lose his or her job. He slid back into his chair like a bully caught with his pants down, until something else obviously occurred to him – a much needed lifeline, a way out.
‘Your Honour,’ Adams was up again, a fresh bout of enthusiasm in his voice. ‘Forgive me, but I do not see where this is going. Even if the suck-sino-choline . . . whatever it is, was injected first, it does not eliminate the Professor as the number one suspect in this case. In fact, it does the opposite. It reinforces his guilt. The Professor is a physician with access to a number of drugs – and I am sure this includes the aforementioned anaesthetic. This does not prove a thing,’ he went on. ‘Professor Montgomery was in the Vice President’s suite for over four minutes, more than enough time for him to administer both narcotics and . . .’