“Yes.”
“Well, you’ve been charged with First Degree Murder. In Arizona, that is a very serious charge that could if you are found guilty, result in your own death. Are you hearing me, Doctor?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. Now you’ve availed yourself of one of the finest attorneys in northern Arizona, Mr. Murfee is at your side and he has filed a motion to set bail in your case. First, though, let me take you through the formalities of the initial appearance.”
It took another five minutes while defendants’ rights were spelled out and legal procedures explained. But then he was finished and the judge sat back in his heavy leather chair.
“Mr. Murfee, it’s your motion for bail. Do you wish to be heard?”
Thaddeus slowly nodded. “It would be extremely rare that we would call a witness on a bail motion, Judge Hoover, but I think in this case I want to do just that.”
“And who would you call? I see no one else in the courtroom.”
“I would call the defendant himself.”
“That’s even more rare. Are you sure about this, Mr. Murfee? Doesn’t this open your client to a barrage of cross-examination from our fine District Attorney, Mr. Sanders, who will, I am sure, bless us with a very thorough schooling in the uses of cross-examination where the defendant is totally vulnerable?”
“It does open him to a barrage. But I think he can handle it.”
“Very well. It’s your defense. Please proceed.”
Thaddeus spoke more to the court reporter, “Defense calls Dr. Emerick Sewell to the stand.”
The clerk swore the witness and Dr. Sewell, long and lanky, took his seat on the witness stand.
After the preliminaries, Thaddeus wasted no time.
“Dr. Sewell, what is the medical definition of death?”
“Well, as a neurosurgeon who has testified many times on the subject of death, I would have to say that one of the most common scenarios where death is usually pronounced is when a person is considered brain dead.”
“Did you know or have reason to know whether Nadia Turkenov was brain dead?”
“I had been to Ms. Turkenov’s room several times. During those times, I had the opportunity to read through her chart, including the brain scans and reports.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Why? Because I felt responsible for her being there and wanted to help. She had read my book on my own death experience and had acted on that. I felt responsible.”
“I don’t want to get into whether you were legally responsible or not for her condition.”
“I don’t know about legal, Mr. Murfee. I’m speaking to a much higher standard, that of moral responsibility. I felt and feel morally responsible for what happened to her.”
“When you withdrew her life support, namely the ventilator, what was your intention?”
“To set her free. She was already dead. The ventilator was doing what she couldn’t do for herself. And her condition was irreversible. Her chart is very clear about that. Several physicians had concurred. She was gone.”
“Why hadn’t the family turned off the machines?”
Dr. Sewell smiled ironically. “Money. Her comatose state meant they could receive money from her estate. Her death meant her estate would go to a charity she was funding. A nursing scholarship.”
“So, what you’re saying is that you didn’t murder her, you didn’t end her life. She was already gone when you found her.”
“Precisely. It was like I turned off a light switch with a burned-out bulb. Nothing changed. Nothing.”
Thaddeus turned to the judge. “That’s all for now, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Sanders, any cross?”
DA Sanders all but exploded up out of his chair.
“My good doctor, wouldn’t you agree that Ms. Turkenov was merely in a comatose state when you found her?”
“No. The word ‘coma’ is correctly used only when there is a temporary unconsciousness in which brain-stem functions are not irreversibly impaired. That was not the case here.”
“But isn’t there always the possibility that someone like Ms. Turkenov could come out of the unconscious state?”
“Not in her case.”
“But Dr. Sewell, isn’t that exactly what happened to you? I’ve read your book, sir. Your own doctors were preparing to turn off your life support when you suddenly blinked your eyes and came back. Couldn’t that have happened with Ms. Turkenov?”
“No. Like I said, her brain-stem had altogether ceased to function. Breathing, which is dependent on brain-stem functioning, had irreversibly ceased. The medical records will prove this beyond all doubt.”
“What about in your own case? Had your brain stem function ceased?”
“That was never a certainty in my own case. However, my physicians were prepared to counsel my family that, given the length of time I had been away, my condition was irreversible.”
“So how does your case differ from her case?”
“How? I came back. She did not. I was out a week or less. She had been out a month or more. So long that bedsores were a problem.”
“So if a person has bedsores, we should pull the plug? Is that your standard?”
“I was merely illustrating.”
“So the length of time of unconsciousness is your standard?”
“That and the complete absence of brain stem activity. That is measurable and definable. It is a scientific standard that is verifiable and consistent with good medical science. It is a standard by which families around the world are counseled by their loved one’s physicians to pull the plug, as you put it.”
“Brainstem.”
“Absence of.”
“So you really believe you didn’t commit murder?”
“I really believe I didn’t kill anyone if that’s what murder requires. The woman was already dead when I found her.”
“Nothing further.”
“Mr. Murfee?”
“Nothing further, Your Honor.”
“You wish to be heard, Mr. Murfee?”
“My motion says what I wanted to say. I would only be repeating myself.”
“Mr. Sanders?”
Sanders again stood.
“Your Honor, it’s ludicrous. I’ve never heard of such a defense as Mr. Murfee is trying to get the court to fall for today.”
“Hold it, Counsel. That’s argument. Do you have any law for me?”
“Not yet, Judge.”
“Well, you’ve had this motion since early this morning, according to the time stamp. Why no law for me?”
“I really haven’t had time to brief it.”
“Then you don’t know whether Mr. Murfee’s position is right or wrong, correct? It seems to be you’re just reacting as any prosecutor would where someone has died. Get me some law, Mr. Sanders, and we’ll revisit my order here today if you make your motion. But in the meantime, the court is going to set bail at one million dollars. That is all.”
Stunned, Thaddeus sat back, all but speechless.
“You did it, Thaddeus,” said Dr. Sewell. “I don’t know how, but it worked! Talk to my agent. He’ll get the money for bail. Whatever we need.”
“Uh-huh,” muttered Thaddeus. Then he collected himself. “We should have you out of jail later tonight. I’ll be over to see you.”
At that point, the deputies accompanied the doctor out of the courtroom and headed back across the lawn to the jail.
District Attorney Sanders stood stuffing his file into his briefcase.
“Bullshit, Murfee. And you know it.”
“No, I don’t know it. The woman was gone.”
“Hey, pal. Read your client’s book. It’s the exact same medical case. I’m going to shove that book up his ass if this thing ever goes to trial. You can count on it.”
“Well, shove away, Jocko. Shove away.”
“And up yours too, Murfee.”
“We’ll see about that, Gary.”
38
Katy had reached the point where, without admitting it, she needed her husband with her. She was frightened and she knew he knew it. So she no longer pushed at him to continue with a normal life. He wouldn’t leave Katy even for one night, so Christine came to him.
While Katy’s nurse was helping her with lunch in the study, Thaddeus and Christine met in Thaddeus’ home office. There were two security men in each of their rooms; Thaddeus and Katy trusted the agents implicitly; they were all FBI; they knew how to keep a secret and the couple’s privacy would be protected while their well-being was also under protection.
“Your plan is to do what about Mascari?” Christine wanted to know. “If you do nothing, he will eventually kill you. Or your family. Or one of the little guys. This man is desperate and capable, Thad. You should have seen how he’s living and how well-protected he is.”
Thaddeus, sitting at his desk with his feet up, nodded slowly.
“It couldn’t be worse timing for me,” Thaddeus said. “I won’t leave Katy as she is. I just can’t do that.”
Christine nodded.
“I know and I don’t blame you.”
“And I don’t want you going after him. It’s too much for one person. So, what do I do?”
They sat and made eye contact and then looked away. For the first time since they had come together back in Orbit, the silence between them was an uncomfortable one. There was something else between them, a dynamic that neither wished to acknowledge. Finally, Thaddeus broke the silence.
“You know, in my life, I have sometimes had to do things I hated. Everyone goes through times like that.”
“Sure.”
“I think I don’t have the choice of staying here with Katy and hoping for peace. Mascari is not going to allow that.”
“True.”
He sighed a long, full sigh. It was a sound of resignation. Then he stood and moved to the window that framed the mountains a few miles away. It was an endless kaleidoscope of clouds, sunlight, rain, snow, and perfect change that Thaddeus had come to attribute to more than nature. What it was, he couldn’t say, but what happened outside that window, since he had been spending his days in that room, was breathtaking and sometimes kept him watching for hours. Outside his window was alive. That’s the best explanation he could come up with. And he felt a part of it. He was inside the dream himself though he watched it all through the glass. His vision, his eyes, projected him into the scenes that came and went, turned and twisted, and made him one with the world he saw. It had been a long time, coming to believe that observation equals creation, the stuff of the quantum physicists. But deep down, he had bought in. It had happened while he was driving into town and Christine had called with the news of BAT’s death. Thaddeus had cried out; he had finally reached the point where he could no longer handle his life on his own. He didn’t consider himself religious and never would; he just knew he needed help and at that time he was feeling abandoned and the hope offered by Dr. Sewell and his book and the science well…for the first time, he saw a way to cling to something more powerful than his own inner strength. He didn’t have a word for it yet, but he knew it involved belief without proof. And that was far, far beyond anything he’d ever tried on for size.
And if the physicists were right, then some part of him—some part of Katy—was eternal. He would always be inside the scene, and millions of other scenes, for eternity. The name for his new belief system, he didn’t know. His long afternoons reading and watching scientists expound on YouTube while Katy dozed, had only left him with more questions. But of one thing he was sure: he would see her again. In fact, there would never be a time when he wouldn’t see her.
The thought of his forever connection to Katy made him turn away from the vista outside. He met Christine’s eyes.
“I’m going after him. My family needs me to protect them. It’s that simple.”
Christine stood and gave him a hug.
“Then I’m going with you.”
Thaddeus leaned away and looked deep into her eyes.
“Ordinarily I would insist not. But this time, I know I need you.”
“Then it’s done. We’ll get this guy together.”
“How long will it take?” asked Thaddeus, returning to his seat at the desk. “Will we be gone more than a few days?”
“Unknown. Probably. He’s surrounded by security every minute of the day.”
Thaddeus’ demeanor suddenly fell. The sadness pierced him like a spike.
“She could die while I’m away.”
“I know. She could.”
“But she has told me herself. Now it’s about more than just she and I. There are children at risk today. Their safety is greater than what Katy and I have.”
“I know.”
“So what do we do?”
Christine sat down and crossed her legs.
“First, you’re not going. I am.”
“But I thought—”
“No. Not up for discussion. You’re staying here.”
“Why?”
“For openers, my people have a line on the money. We’re maybe two transfers away from his stash.”
“How long will it take to locate?”
“A week at the most. We’re very close.
Thaddeus nodded. “And him personally. What do we know?”
“Let’s start with a map of the area where he spends his nights and most of his days. It’s a seaside villa.”
“Google Earth.”
“Exactly.”
Christine pulled her chair up to the desk and swung Thaddeus’ laptop around. “Let me do this.”
She located Mascari’s city, street, and enclave and resized them so the key area filled the screen.
“Here’s his home, right here.”
“All right. What kind of security on the perimeter?”
“BAT and I had decided it’s an electric fence.”
“With armed sensors, of course.”
“Of course. Any breach and he’s immediately alerted.”
“So entry will be difficult if not impossible.”
“Pretty much.”
“And when he leaves there?”
“He caravans. Two or three groups of three or four vehicles will suddenly come pouring out, heading different directions, blackout windows in the cars. It’s pretty damn impressive.”
“I’m sure. But he has a favorite vehicle?”
“I think so.”
“You need to be sure. You’ll only get one chance at this. Hey, an idea. Where does he go every day?”
“He goes—he goes to Dista Fiencci’s for lunch.”
“What’s that?”
“Continental cuisine. BAT and I cased it once. Hold it. That’s it. Okay, you can cross Mascari off your death watch.”
“What’s that mean?”
She tapped the side of her head. “It means the wheels are turning. We’re done here.”
“Is it safe? Do you come home?”
“Hell, yes. I’m not laying down my life for some effing loser like Mascari.”
“You’re sure?”
She gave him a hard stare. It was her Bet Me stare. You didn’t cross her after that look.
Thaddeus slowly nodded.
“Okay, then. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“That’s why I’m here. You couldn’t.”
“You are—”
“I’m your friend,” she said, and laughed. “Always have been. Always will be.”
“I’ll toast to that,” said Thaddeus, raising his coffee cup.
Christine made an air toast.
“Time for me to check on Katy.”
“Of course. I’ll come with.”
“She’d like that. She’s crazy about you. Which brings me to something else she said about you. And me.”
Christine shook her head violently.
“No. Let’s go see her. That’s all we can do at this time.”
“Right, then.”
&n
bsp; “Right.”
39
The District Attorney’s investigator was a man named Herbert Constance. Lieutenant Constance was a slight man, angular face, who moved with the grace and confidence of a Spanish bullfighter. Watching him, those around him would find themselves marveling at the energy he brought into any room or meeting, for it was boundless and he refused to rest or back away from a problem until he had the resolution he thought was the correct one. He was thin-lipped and his aquiline nose fit his face perfectly. Hair was a brush cut with long, out-of-style sideburns that reached his jawline, his only nod to a personal grooming tic. Otherwise, he was neutral in his dress, the color of his shirts and ties, the style of shoes and suits he wore—everything was thought out to draw the least bit of attention possible to himself. Anonymity was his aim and he pulled it off quite well.
He called a meeting of the key players in Nadia Turkenov’s conservatorship, those who had taken an active role in her situation while she was alive. In attendance were her brother Roy and her two children Albert and Anastasia. Anastasia was, as usual, accompanied by her husband Jack Millerton, complete with the CPA’s case full of documents he thought might be important to the investigator. Never mind that they hadn’t been requested; Jack brought them all along anyway.
They met on the second floor of the Coconino County Courthouse, inside the investigator’s office that connected with the office of the District Attorney himself, Gary Sanders. Constance sat at his desk while the threesome pulled up chairs and waited for whatever it was he had to say to them.
“Thanks for coming. And my condolences on your loss. The taking of your mother’s—and sister’s—life is something that can’t go unpunished. Dr. Sewell is going away to prison for a long, long time. That I promise you.”
“What about the death penalty?” said Millerton, anger boiling in his words. “Is that still on the table?”
“Unknown right now. Sometimes we don’t know until the last minute when the judge is settling jury instructions with the attorneys right before the case goes to the jury. At that time, the judge decides if there will be a capital murder jury instruction or not.”
“There damn well oughta be,” said Roy. He looked at his niece and nephew and they nodded their agreement.
The Near Death Experience (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 10) Page 18