Silent Epidemic (Book 1 - Carol Freeman Series)

by Jill Province

  Michelle carried the paper back inside and lay it out by the coffee maker so that it would be the first thing Charles would see when he woke up on this glorious Sunday.

     

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

      

  Sally rolled over and stared at Donovan, who was snoring loudly beside her.  She thought about trying to get him to roll on his side, but decided to get up instead when she looked at the clock.  She had been asleep for over ten hours. 

  After her customary pit stop to the bathroom, she headed for the kitchen.  She had stopped drinking leaded coffee, but she still needed her placebo.  She was about to pour water into the coffee maker, when she glanced outside the kitchen window.  “What in the hell…?" she exclaimed.  Outside on the lawn, several TV cameras were setting up with reporters standing by.

  Sally darted back to the bedroom and grabbed Donovan by the arm.  “George," she said in alarm, “you have to get up."  

  Donovan rolled over and groaned, “What’s wrong?" 

  “The media is camped out on our front lawn."  

  Donovan sat straight up and looked at her. 

  “What?"  

  “You heard me," she yelled, pulling him by the arm towards the closest window.  Donovan looked out the window. 

  “Shit! What are they doing out there?" Donovan asked rhetorically.  

  Sally was busy flipping channels on the TV, trying to find some news-breaking story to explain the sudden interest in their front lawn. 

  “Nothing," she announced, after going through each local Atlanta station several times.  “Maybe there’s an explanation in the Sunday paper," she ventured, “but I’m not going out there to get it." 

  “Something tells me we won’t have to wait too much longer to find out what’s going," he interjected.  “They aren’t setting up all that equipment for nature shots."

  No sooner did the words leave his mouth than the sound of a door bell resonated through the house.  They just looked at each other, dumbfounded.  “Maybe we could just ignore them," he said. 

  “Oh, yeah," Sally retorted.  “That’ll look real good.  Both cars are parked in the driveway.  They know we’re here." 

  “Just keep calm,” Donovan said, pulling on his pants and missing the right leg several times.  

  Sally just shook her head at him. 

  “Okay, Mr. Calm.  This is your little press conference.  I’m staying in here."

  Donovan went to the door and opened it.  Several microphones were shoved in his face as three reporters began talking to him simultaneously.  Donovan blinked into the bright sunlight and put up one hand up to shield the glare.  Stepping out onto the front stoop, he forced the reporters to move back from his door. One reporter finally took center stage.

  “Doctor George Donovan?" the reporter questioned.  Donovan confirmed his identity.  “Are you aware of the allegations made against you by the Atlanta Journal Constitution?"  Donovan just continued to blink into the camera, as if he were a deer stunned by headlights.

  The story was being broadcast live and Sally sat in the bedroom watching Channel Five.  “Say something," she said to the TV screen.  Donovan finally found his voice and told the reporter that he had no idea what she was talking about, but that he would like for everyone to leave.  They were all trespassing.  Sally put her hand over her eyes and groaned.  Donovan had never been good under pressure.  She never had to worry about another woman because the man was transparent. A second reporter picked up where the first left off.

  “Dr. Donovan, you have been identified as the doctor involved in the Dominex Pharmaceutical study, is that correct?" 

  “You know it is," Donovan answered defensively. 

  “Do you have any response to the charge that you helped sabotage the study to hide the real problems with the medication, Valipene?” 

  “You want a response?" Donovan yelled at the camera. 

  “Oh God," Sally groaned.  “Somebody, please shoot him."  She looked at the face staring at her from the TV.  He was turning red. 

  “My response is that is a bold-faced lie, and someone better be looking for a good attorney.” 

  “So, you deny the allegation that you gave the study volunteers sedatives, telling them it was a prescription vitamin?" a third reporter inquired.

  Donovan took one step back and announced that he had nothing more to say without his own attorney and slammed the door in the cameraman’s face.  Sally watched as the reporter for Channel Five news continued the live update from their front step.

  The reporter gave a recap of the story that had appeared in the Sunday paper.  Sally continued to shake her head as the information unfolded, outlining every illegal move they and Dominex had made since the beginning of the study.  “How did they find all this out?" she whispered, and turned to find Donovan standing behind her.  “Did you catch the whole story?" she asked.  He just nodded his head in confirmation.  “We’re in deep shit," Sally announced.  Donovan did not respond.  He was too busy envisioning his remaining years in prison.

     

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  David Manning happily toasted the air and downed the rest of his orange juice.  He turned off the TV after watching Channel Five’s live report from in front of the doctor’s residence.  The newspaper lay in front of him on the kitchen table.  He would sit on this new information until the final test results were submitted.  He would do nothing about the partially submitted data.  In fact, he would send off a letter stating that the results submitted looked good so far.  Lull them into a false sense of security.  Then, whammo!  After the final submission, he would hit them hard and demand the full names of every one of the volunteers.

  “Random checks, my ass," he sneered.  He would personally contact every name on that list.  “You’re going down, boys.”  David couldn’t remember seeing a brighter sunnier day.  “Let’s go on a picnic," he yelled to his wife in next room.   

     

  * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  Sam Reynolds unplugged his phone and re-read the article in the paper.  His young and eager newsperson had no knowledge that the paper had continued to investigate the Terry Sanders story.  Sheila and company had appeared to no longer be on the prowl for blood.  Where did this come from?

  He stood, running a nervous hand through his hair.

  His wife came into the living room and handed him a cup a coffee.  He just looked up at her as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “Sam, newspapers can make all the allegations they want.  They still have to prove it."  Sam reached up and patted her hand. 

  “I know," he sighed, “but perception is powerful." 

  “You’ll find a way through this.  You always do."

  Sam sat quietly sipping on his cup of motivation and tried looking at the problem from every angle.  There was no way that these two reporters could have any hard evidence.  He could force their hand.  Slap a big fat lawsuit on them for slander and make them squirm to produce proof.  But what if they actually had some?

  The most important thing in a legal battle is to know the answers to all the questions before they are asked.  There could be no surprises.  What hard evidence could they possibly have?  Sam had to think this through completely before deciding what to do.  He knew that Charles would be bouncing off the walls trying to get him on the phone.  He just didn’t have the energy to baby sit right now.  He would come up with a game plan before calling him.

     

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  “They really have opened up a serious can of worms," Jerry said.  Sheila lay beside him with the paper spread all over the top of the bed.  He had just gotten up and retrieved the paper from outside her door.  When he found the story on the front page, he had to wake her.�
� “Dominex will bury them in so much legal bullshit, they won’t know which end is up," he continued.

  “I think they’re prepared for that," Sheila said, yawning. 

  “I hope so," he agreed.  “If not, you and I can start looking for jobs with Joe Blow Drugs, Inc.  I know," he exclaimed, now on a roll.  “On this next career move, let’s cut out the middle man.”  Sheila just rolled her eyes at him.  “No really,” he insisted. “Do you have any idea how much drug dealers make?  And it’s all tax fee!”  

  Sheila grabbed a pillow, and tossed it at him. 

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying this," she said, trying not to laugh.  “They have opened fire on Dominex.  These people are very resourceful and they will probably figure a way out of this.  By the time the data is turned into the FDA, they will be as guarded as Fort Knox."  

  “All they had to do was make certain concessions on the label," Jerry said, shaking his head.  “If they warned everyone up front that the medication was only intended for short term use they never would have had to manipulate the study in the first place.  Why do you think they went to such lengths to avoid the obvious?" 

  “Greed," Sheila stated, simply.  “Drug companies have never been satisfied with reasonable profits.  Look at all the other sedatives that got past the FDA already. There are no specific warnings.  You think they don’t know what’s been happening to all the people who have been taking that stuff for years?"  Jerry just shrugged his ambivalence.  “They know," she said, answering her own question.  “The only difference now is that they have a different gate keeper at the FDA.  All this hoopla will do nothing about them.  People probably won’t even make the connection between Valipene and the other sedatives with the same compound." 

  “Yeah,” he added, “not unless Barbara Walters spells out the name of each one for them.” 

  “And all this media play is local," Sheila said.  “We may think a lot of Atlanta, but we are still a dot on the map."   

  “So, remind me again why we’re beating our heads against the Dominex wall."

  “It’s a start."

     

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  Josh and Carol were sitting at the breakfast table finishing eggs and pouring over the article in the paper.  “You should be proud of yourself," Josh said.  “You are largely responsible for this story going public.” 

  “I can’t believe they thought they could pass vitamins off as a miracle cure for sedative withdrawal," Carol added.  “There are a lot of very uninformed and scared people in the world.  Most of them never question what a doctor tells them.” 

  “Well, nothing may come from this," Josh predicted, “but maybe people will be a little more cautious now.” 

  “Speaking of caution," Carol began, “how do you think this story will affect Dominex’s stock?"  

  Josh nodded his head at her in approval. 

  “You’re learning."

  Josh got up and went over to his computer, with Carol following at his heels. 

  “But it’s Sunday," she reminded him. 

  “It certainly is," he confirmed.  “Welcome to the electronic age."  Josh pulled up the appropriate screen and keyed in an order.  “They have begun to recover nicely from the last dive," he said pointing to the screen. “They have a lot of room to do it again."  Josh clicked on the send order icon. “This will be processed the minute the exchange opens tomorrow."

  The newspaper was left abandoned on the kitchen table.  Carol had been so engrossed in the article on page one that she missed the story on page four.  A psychotic male had fired several shots from his bedroom window at a group of unsuspecting Jehovah’s Witnesses after they rang his doorbell.  The shooting was labeled a hate crime, accusing the perpetrator of being a religious fanatic who had strongly opposed the presence of his visitors.  All three of the victims were killed and the man was immediately arrested for first-degree murder.  Carl Banner had finally decided to fight back. 

     

  * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  It was Monday morning and Sam had no choice but to plug the phone back into the wall.  As soon as it was reconnected, it began to ring.  Sam just looked at it and began to laugh.  He would not have been surprised if it had been ringing the entire time it was unplugged.  His wife got it on the fourth ring.

  “Sam, it’s Paul Pratt," she yelled from the bedroom.  Paul was just about the only person he was willing to talk to.  Sam picked up the phone and greeted the attorney. 

  “Sam, I’ve been trying to get you on the phone since yesterday." 

  “You and a whole lot of other people," Sam sighed. 

  “Listen, we have no choice.  We have to hit them hard, and we have to do it immediately."  

  Sam just held on to the receiver and listened.  He had no intelligent input to offer.

  “If we hesitate," Paul instructed, “even for one day, it will be an admission of guilt." 

  “What if they have evidence to back up the story?"  

  “I can’t imagine what that would be.  Drug screens are not valid unless they have been done through a chain of custody." 

  “Paul, don’t use meaningless terms on me this early in the morning," Sam commanded. 

  “It’s a drug screen process where they watch you pee and the lab monitors each step to assure that the substance they first received is the same substance they end with.  No one would have done that," he concluded.   

  “Why not?" 

  “Because it’s expensive and only necessary if you are documenting your case for court.  No one would have been thinking about court back then."  

  “Good point," Sam conceded.

  “Also," Paul continued, “there is no way they can link those brown envelopes to the company.  Even if any of the volunteers still have the evidence, they won’t be able to prove it came from us."  

  A smile slowly came to Sam’s face. 

  “Damn," he exclaimed, “I should have called you yesterday.  I might have actually slept last night."

  “I guess I don’t have to remind you that someone will have to take the fall for this," the attorney added. 

  “Yeah, I know," Sam sighed.  “Too bad, though. He was a hell of nice guy for helping us out the way he did." 

  “Everyone makes their own choices.  The doctor knew all the risks involved when he agreed to see those patients." 

  “No other way around this?" Sam asked rhetorically. 

  “I can’t think of one," Paul answered.  “The testimony of those volunteers will count for something and it has to land on someone’s shoulders." 

  “Make the arrangements," Sam said decisively. 

  “That’s what you pay me the big bucks for," Paul said.  “See you at the office."

  Sam decided to call Charles at home and get the contact over with.  No doubt the CEO would give him hell for not being available yesterday.  Michelle Roman answered the phone and told him that Charles was already on his way to the office.  Sam thanked her and hung up.  She sounded very cheerful, he thought, dialing the cell phone number.

  Charles answered on the first ring.  “Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. 

  “Charles, I spoke to Paul Pratt already," Sam began, ignoring the verbal attack.  “I think we’re going to come through this without a scratch." 

  “I don’t see how that’s possible," Charles countered, “but I want everyone in my office at nine sharp." 

  “That would be everyone except Donovan," Sam interjected.  “He doesn’t know about this meeting, does he?" 

  “I doubt it," Charles said.  “You’re the first one I’ve talked to." 

  “Good," Sam said, letting out a long breath.  “I’ll take care of notifying everyone, Charles.  See you there." 

   

  Charles Roman sat at the conference
table with Sam, Jeff, Margie and Paul Pratt.  The CEO looked as though he had not slept in a week.  The attorney had the floor and was reiterating their position.  “I’ve already filed the suit," he continued.  “The newspaper will receive notification within the next seventy two hours." 

  “In the meantime," Sam interjected, “we have to make this place squeaky clean." 

  “Again?" Jeff asked.  He also looked very sleep deprived.  

  “We shouldn’t have to do more than a spot check," Sam said.  “The last cleaning was pretty thorough." 

  “The main thing we have to look for," Paul interjected, “is any link between the doctor’s activities and this company.” 

  “Right," Sam continued. “Our position on this is that we sent the volunteers to Dr. Donovan for check-in purposes only.  What the doctor chose to do with those patients after they reached his office was beyond our knowledge or control."

  “So, the vitamin scam and the sick volunteers will all be attributed to what happened to them as a result of seeing this doctor?" Charles asked. 

  “That’s the plan," Paul confirmed.  The CEO began nodding his head as he processed the information.  “I gotta admit it," Charles said. “This does sound pretty solid." 

  “So, what happens when we submit the final data to the FDA?" Jeff asked. 

  “We stick with the original Phase Two plan," Sam said. 

  “And once we drag the newspaper through this lawsuit," Paul added, “we will be free and clear of any scrutiny." 

  “We will also have our friend at the medical board release and expedite Carol Freeman’s letter," Sam instructed.  He noticed the sea of confused faces.  “One of the volunteers wrote a letter of complaint about Donovan to the medical board which was intercepted upon its arrival."  Everyone nodded their understanding. 

  “It would be advantageous to let that letter run its course now," Charles said, stating the obvious. 

  “After that newspaper blast, the board will be all over him," Paul predicted.

  “We will have to re-route the last group of volunteers back to our facility," Sam concluded.  “We can’t allow them to continue seeing Donovan after what we just discovered. And, Margie," Sam added, “Paul will contact the volunteers that might be asked to provide depositions for this pending suit.  They are receiving, shall we say, extra incentive."