Death Spiral
Page 28
In response to documents and an audio recording provided by Faith Flores, an intrepid 16-year-old junior at Haverford High, the Federal Bureau of Investigations in Pennsylvania has opened a preliminary inquiry on Monday into allegations that Dr. Steven Glass, researcher at PluraGen Biopharmaceutical, was using a clinical trial for RNA 120, a drug to treat heroin addiction, as a front to test a biological vector known as PL44.
Medical records from the clinical trial indicate that PL44 causes a mutation leading to the genetic form of a rare disease known as Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis (IPF). Currently, Alveolix, a drug developed by Glass and patented by PluraGen, is the only treatment for IPF. According to reliable sources, funding for the drug is being pulled for financial reasons, and Glass’ position is being cut.
Fifteen people were enlisted in the clinical trial, none of who were informed about PL44. Two of the participants died while undergoing treatment. Records from the trial confirm that at least one of the two women who died had been given the disease-causing vector. DNA testing is being conducted on autopsy specimens from the second woman.
In a statement released to the press, Brian Millman, PluraGen CEO, offered this: “We will cooperate with every aspect of this investigation, and we will be devoting two million dollars to a state-of-the-art drug treatment center dedicated to Augustina Flores and Melinda Rivera, the two women who died in the clinical trial. It is unfortunate that rogue doctors have damaged our company’s reputation, but I can assure you that Dr. Glass was acting alone and that we are committed to stringent new oversight controls.”
In a related incident, Victor Navarro, the nephew of Dr. Glass, was arrested and charged with the deaths of Dr. Raymond Carlisle, Pennsylvania State Medical Examiner, who is believed to be connected with the cover-up, and Dr. Joseph Wydner, the director of the Twenty-third Street Methadone Clinic where the RNA 120 clinical trial was being conducted.
Glass is being held without bail, pending further investigation, and declined to comment.
The clinical trial has been suspended.
Twenty-five
A week after Tom’s article made the national news, I stroll along the spine of trees edging the Schuylkill River with Jesse at my side. Aunt T and Sam, Anj and Duncan, trail behind. I hold Jesse’s hand and think about Mom as we walk. This little patch of nature butting up against the city was her sanctuary. I don’t need four walls and a preacher to find God, she used to say as she held out a flower for me to inspect or pointed out the name of some bird trilling in a tree.
We step aside as a pack of joggers take over the trail, so they don’t trample us with their aerobic enthusiasm. I feel Jesse’s eyes on me as I watch the steely spandex thighs round a bend. Between meetings with cops, meetings with Tom, and more meetings with people who wanted to meet, it’s the first time we’ve been alone since the convention center. There’s so much to say, I hardly know where to being, but before I can find the first word, I’m in Jesse’s arms, against his body, and my lips are too busy kissing to talk. I relax into the kiss and let it linger, forgetting for one soft moment why we’re here, forgetting everything but his cool, soft lips and warm tongue, his taste like winter, and coffee and desire. And this time, I don’t pull away.
“I told Doc I’m going out west this summer,” Jesse tells me once the kiss runs its course. “He’s not happy, but with a little help from my mom, he caved. He agreed I need a break before senior year. I’m going to get a job on a ranch someplace. I could really use some company.”
It’s an invitation, I know, but I don’t answer. There’s so many things to consider now, so many doors opening as old ones close. There’s so much to do: Anj’s going-away party before she leaves for Scotland and saying good-bye to Duncan and figuring out my future with Aunt T and Sam. And something else.
Aunt T comes up beside me and hands me the blue urn with Mom’s ashes. “Ready?”
I look up at a stream of starlings dancing patterns in the cloudless sky, then hug my aunt. “Ready.”
I walk to the water alone and let the frenzy of last week wash over me—reconciliation with Aunt T after her escape to Sam’s, letting her hear the recording from my phone, our talk of legal guardianship, Glass’ investigation, the Rat Catcher’s arrest, head dude of PluraGen coming to our apartment with his entourage of press people to document his scripted apology. Then my thoughts turn again to Mom. Tears sting my eyes as images of her flow through my mind, but for the first time it’s not despair I feel but hope.
I take in a long, sharp breath and fill my lungs with the air of this place she loved. I exhale and do it again. When my mind is clear, I open the tin, and plunge my hand into her ashes, feeling the grit of her bones and skin, hair and teeth between my fingers.
“You’ll always be with me,” I whisper as I scoop up a handful and cast her ashes to the earth.
I’m reaching in again, getting ready to scatter a second handful, when I spot a splash of white in the tree next to me. At first I think it’s a white dove, but then I see the pink eyes. The bird looks at me for a split second before bursting into flight.
“Good-bye,” I call, tossing the rest of her ashes to the wind.
It’s not just what happened to my mom that I finally understand, it’s something else. Genes aren’t my destiny. They’re just part of my story. It’s the choices I make that will shape my future. I was given a starting place, the rest—what truths to reveal, what lies to tell, whether I give up and give in or stand up and fight back—that part is up to me.
I’m not angry anymore. No more blame. No more guilt. No more lies or hiding. I know the truth. Finally I can let her go.
I watch Mom’s guardian angel disappear into the morning sky.
Author’s Note
Although everything in this book is scientifically plausible and I have strived to be scientifically accurate, addiction and its possible cures are treated fictitiously. I made up RNA 120 and the use of antisense RNA to treat heroin addiction. Alveolix is a product of my imagination. While the gene names I used are authentic, in reality the genetics of traits like addiction are truly complex, meaning a single variant is unlikely to make one an addict; these traits are the result of complex interactions among multiple genes and environmental factors. If you are interested in learning more about the genetics of addiction, please visit the Genetic Science Learning Center at learn.genetics.utah.edu.
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