by Joseph Hayes
By the conclusion of the opening arguments, the issues had been clearly framed, and it was evident that the case would turn on how the jury interpreted the company's reaction to its billing problems. The jury would be asked to decide whether USH was slow and inept, but well meaning, or whether it was out to deliberately defraud its patients for as long as it could get away with it. The answer to that question would determine whether punitive damages were awarded. If they were, the case could cost USH upwards of $100 million, perhaps several times that.
To the extent that Jake harbored any doubts about whether he had the emotional fortitude and intensity level to try this case, those doubts vanished the moment the trial began. He felt sharp and ready to focus on this trial from start to finish, having dealt with all distractions in the days leading up to it. He had discussed safety issues at length with Chief Tomczak, and gotten comfortable with the Police Chief's assurances that he and Anna would be adequately protected. Anna would be staying at Peggy's house, with two uniformed officers hovering nearby, around the clock, and escorting her everywhere she went. Jake would likewise have constant police protection until the trial was concluded. USH assisted by having its Corporate Security Department install state-of-the-art alarm systems and video surveillance equipment at both Jake's home and Peggy's. The deployment of these resources, coupled with the fact that there had been no further threats or incidents, left Jake feeling sufficiently comfortable to concentrate on the trial.
The trial was expected to last two weeks. The entire first week was consumed by Rick's presentation of the plaintiffs’ case. He began with a parade of witnesses who testified that they had been patients of USH and had been overcharged. Each of the six plaintiffs named in the original complaint testified about the facts of their particular case, and three additional witnesses told similar stories. The jury heard about charges for procedures that were never performed and charges for supplies that were never provided. They heard about double billing. They heard about charges that were grossly in excess of the hospital's own published billing rates. They heard about charges for physicians and technicians that had no contact or involvement with the patient. And they heard about the circumcision fees charged to the parents of the baby girl. Throughout this testimony, Rick repeatedly elicited comments from the witnesses about what they perceived as outrageously high charges and incomprehensible invoices.
This testimony began early Monday afternoon and lasted through the end of the day on Tuesday. It was long and tedious, but a very effective way of educating the jury about the magnitude and nature of the billing problems at USH. They also saw flesh and blood victims of those problems. By the time Rick had finished with those witnesses, he had done a masterful job of demonstrating to the jury that the mistakes were both rampant and egregious.
On the third day of the trial, Rick called several present and former USH financial executives, including its Chief Operating Officer as well as its Vice President of Corporate Development, who had overseen the company's expansion program. Through their testimony, with the aid of various charts and graphs, the jury learned about the rapid growth of USH over the past seven years. They were informed that the company's highest priority during that time period had been growth through acquisition. They were informed that the annual revenues had grown 400% over that time, its annual profits had increased by over 500%, and the stock price had soared. Both the COO and the Vice President of Corporate Development grudgingly acknowledged that executive bonuses were tied closely to revenue growth and stock price, and that they personally had profited handsomely from the company's achievements in those areas. They were also forced to admit that integration of the back-office functions of the newly acquired businesses, such as billing systems, was not given the same level of attention that revenue growth and acquisitions had enjoyed. Over and over, the jury heard Mr. Black mention that the company's annual revenues were currently over $10 billion and its profits nearly $3 billion. The jury also heard him ask repeatedly what it would cost to promptly and thoroughly address the problems with the company's billing systems. They never heard a straight answer.
After that, Rick got to the heart of his case. He produced an array of present and former employees who had knowledge of the company's billing systems, and continually pressed them about when the company became aware of the problems. The totality of that testimony strongly indicated that the company had knowledge of significant problems for two full years before it implemented any remedial measures. Although several witnesses referred to plans developed in meetings that were convened to deal with these issues, they each acknowledged that no such plans were actually implemented before the lawsuit was filed. While none of those witnesses provided any testimony to suggest any deliberate misconduct, their collective testimony painted a picture of a company that had knowledge of serious problems, yet clearly neglected to deal with those problems, to the detriment of the company's patients.
When testimony concluded late on Friday, plaintiffs’ counsel had only one remaining witness—Randy Kraft. Jake surmised that Rick was saving his most damaging witness until last, in the hope of leaving a powerful impression on the jury when he concluded his case.
Jake had his weekend completely mapped out before he left the courthouse Friday afternoon. He planned on relaxing that evening and catching up with Anna. He would meet Peggy and the girls at her house at six o'clock for pizza and board games. Saturday, he would spend the entire day preparing for next week and then take Anna to see a movie after dinner. Sunday, he would spend time preparing Randy Kraft and several other witnesses for their testimony.
Jake's police escorts accompanied him to Peggy's house, where he observed another patrol car parked conspicuously in her driveway. He was comforted by their presence, but still felt himself resenting the intrusion on his privacy. However, the fact that he had gotten through the entire first week of the trial without incident made it easier to forget about them and focus on his daughter.
After spending Friday evening with Anna and his nieces, Jake returned home feeling more relaxed and lighthearted than he had in some time. Playing board games and working on jigsaw puzzles with a seven-year-old child seemed more important and rewarding than anything about the high-stakes trial that had been consuming him. It brought him much needed perspective.
He went to bed early, exhausted from the grueling demands of the trial, and was immediately asleep. In the middle of the night, he awoke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed. He had been dreaming of the muscular black man in the pimped-out white Cadillac. Recognition sprang into his mind and jarred him into consciousness. He knew the face. He had not seen it in nearly five years, and had seen it only twice before it had recently resurfaced, but he knew it. It was Shooter's brother, Jerome. No longer a skinny teenager, he had grown into a massive young man, but there was no mistaking the face.
This revelation was no source of comfort. Jake's memories of Jerome were unsettling. Their first encounter was on the basketball court at St. Simon’s. Anger and hostility had spewed forth from the wild kid, and Jake vividly recalled Jerome's efforts to persuade his cohorts to thrash him and Rick. Only Shooter's influence had been able to prevent that. Their second meeting was in a prison cell. Again, the kid had seemed off-balance and irrational, not to mention belligerent and dangerous.
Why in the world would this guy be following him? It made no sense. What possible connection could he have with the USH case? Jake racked his brain and could think of none. What other reason might he have for following him? He got out of bed and walked to his window. The squad car was parked outside. Its occupants were awake, as evidenced by the orange glow of their cigarettes and the smoke rising out of the partially open window. He returned to bed and slept fitfully until dawn.
Shortly after daylight, he was driven into the office by the two burly policemen who had spent the night parked in front of his house. He continued to think about Jerome as the police cruiser sped through the deserted streets toward downtown.
He just couldn't make sense of it. He would call Shooter when he had time. He had heard that Shooter was recovering from his gunshot wound and had been meaning to call him anyway. But that would have to wait. He was in the middle of the biggest trial of his life, and couldn’t afford any distractions. He forced himself to put Jerome out of his mind, and renewed his focus on the trial.
After a full day of intense preparation at his office, Jake once again was escorted to Peggy's house. He said hello to Peggy and the twins, and then climbed back into the waiting patrol car with Anna. They had dinner at the crowded food court in the mall, and watched an animated movie at the mall’s multiplex theater, a bodyguard at their sides at all times. After that, they were driven back to Peggy's house where he, Anna, Peggy and the twins engaged in a spirited game of charades before bed. Thunder rumbled in the distance as Jake tucked Anna in and kissed her goodnight.
The thunder and lightning grew closer as the police escort drove Jake home. The heavens opened just as the squad car reached his block. He waved through the driving rain to Officers Mraz and Jordan, the patrolmen sitting in the squad car parked in front of his house. From that vantage point, the car's occupants could see both the front entrance as well as the side entrance adjacent to the driveway. Because of the downpour, Jake’s driver turned into the driveway and pulled up to within a few feet of the side entrance. Jake exited the vehicle as quickly as he could, but his movement was slow and awkward due to his cast and crutches. He was soaked by the time he arrived inside and shut the door behind him.
Jake hobbled into his kitchen and began flipping through the mail that had piled up on his kitchen counter. A crash of thunder shook the house and lightning illuminated the sky. Seconds later, the lights went out and Jake stood still for a few moments, hoping the lights would return quickly. They did not. He looked toward the luminescent clock on his microwave oven. It was off. The quiet hum from the refrigerator had stopped as well. Apparently, he had lost all electricity.
Jake looked out his kitchen window at the house next door. It was dark, too. From where he stood, he could see the houses across the street through his front window—also dark. It appeared that the storm must have knocked out power for the entire block.
Back at USH headquarters in downtown Chicago, the elderly gentleman monitoring the company's security system noticed that he'd stopped receiving a signal from the alarm system that had been installed at the McShane home. He checked the video monitor linked to that residence. The screen was dark. This was not normal. He followed the instructions precisely and dialed the phone number taped to the video monitor. Within a minute, he was patched through to the squad car in front of the McShane house.
“My connection just shut down. Everything okay there?” the elderly gentleman asked.
“Nothing to worry about,” replied the officer. “Just a power failure. The whole block is dark.”
“That's strange. We have a battery-powered backup system on our monitors. They should still work even when there's been a power failure.”
“I wouldn't worry about it, sir,” replied the officer. “I just saw Mr. McShane enter the house ten minutes ago. He's fine. We just had a huge lightning strike—that must be what caused the power outage. The surge probably blew out your security system, backup and all. But don't worry, we’ve got this place covered. I can see both entrances to the house from where I'm sitting.”
Jake moved slowly. Navigating in the dark on crutches, with a wet floor, was treacherous. He made his way to the back door where the security system had been mounted. The pale green lights that were always glowing were now dark. The red power light beneath the surveillance camera was dark as well.
“Damn!” he muttered under his breath, a feeling of uneasiness growing within him. He needed to alert the security guys at USH, and thought he’d better let the police know as well. He moved back toward the kitchen, faster now, and picked up the telephone. It was dead. Thank goodness he had a cell phone. He reached up on top of the refrigerator and grabbed the small flashlight he kept there. He shone it on the kitchen counter, where he had left his cell phone in its battery charger when he'd gone out that afternoon. The charger was empty.
Jake could feel himself breaking into a cold sweat. He knew the police were right outside, and started to make his way toward the front of the house so he could signal them with his flashlight.
Another deafening crash shook the house. As he reached the front window, he saw the squad car pulling away.
“Son of a bitch!” he muttered and tried shining his flashlight at the departing vehicle, to no avail. It was gone.
“Don't waste your time, Mr. McShane. They're not looking in this direction.”
He spun quickly and saw a dark silhouette facing him from across the room. The voice continued. “It's called a diversionary tactic. I'd wager that your policemen friends are attending to the car that just exploded up the street.” Jake recognized the voice that was at once unnaturally calm and dripping with menace. He had heard it before. The man took a few steps toward him and stopped. As lightning illuminated the room, Jake noticed his snow white hair. “You should have done what I asked last time we met,” the intruder continued in a soft Southern drawl. “Unfortunately, you did not, and now we have a serious problem. Move away from the window, please.”
Jake stood, frozen where he was, unable to move or speak. His mind raced through his options. He couldn’t flee; his cast made that impossible. Fighting seemed like a bad idea. Even if he were healthy, Jake doubted that he would be a match for the intruder. The man outweighed him by thirty or forty pounds, and he looked just plain dangerous. Besides, he might have a weapon. Jake couldn't tell in the darkness. He had to stall until the police returned.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Jake demanded. His voice sounded shaky, and he knew it.
The man walked toward Jake and stopped directly in front of him, staring with cold, unblinking eyes. “I'm the guy who turned out the lights. I’m the one who arranged the little diversion down the street.” Lightning flashed again and the big man walked around Jake to the window and closed the curtains.
“You and I are going for a drive, before your friends in blue return. Back door! Move!” He raised a gun, pointed it at Jake and gestured toward the back of the house.
Jake left his crutches on the floor and began hobbling across the living room, moving slowly and limping badly. He had to drag this out as long as he could. Halfway across the room, he stopped and turned back toward the window. “I need my crutches,” he said.
“Keep moving—back door—now!” The big man walked briskly across the room, picked up the crutches and shoved them at Jake.
Jake felt a full-fledged panic gripping him as he moved toward the door. There had to be something he could do, but he couldn’t think. His mind was frozen with fear. He made it to the back door and looked toward the street as he stepped outside – no sign of the police car. A feeling of helplessness and despair set in, as he felt the gun between his shoulder blades. Then he thought about his daughter, and in an instant, those feelings turned to anger and defiance as a survival instinct took hold. His mind reached a high state of alert. He had no intention of getting into a car with this guy. As he stepped off his doorstep onto the driveway, Jake tumbled hard to the pavement, doing his best to make it look accidental, while buying a few more precious seconds. He kept his face flush against the pavement, trying to look stunned. He saw the big man’s boots near his head and felt a powerful hand grab his arm and jerk him upwards.
Then the arm let go, and Jake dropped to the pavement, the side of his skull thudding against the concrete. The next few seconds were a blur of sound and motion. Thunder crashed again and the rain hammered down on him. He sensed a body moving over him at great speed. He heard the impact of flesh meeting flesh, and two loud simultaneous grunts, uttered by different voices. He heard the sound of splintering wood and looked up to see two massive bodies crashing into his neighbor’s fence. Jake grabbed one cr
utch and stumbled to his feet. He watched the two men wrestling ferociously in the mud along the fence line. They struggled to their feet, fists flying. Jake could see that the white-haired man’s assailant was a huge, muscular, black man, but he couldn’t see his face in the rainy darkness. The black man appeared to be getting the better of the battle, until his feet went out from under him in the mud. He landed on his back and the white-haired man was on his chest in an instant. Jake saw the glimmer of a knife as the white-haired man drew his arm back. Jake swung his crutch with all his strength and watched it smash into the white-haired man’s face. The man screamed and the knife flew from his grasp. The black man heaved the white-haired man off his chest and was on his feet in an instant, pummeling his stunned adversary. Jake saw the white-haired man go limp and drop in a heap as a solid blow crashed into his temple. The black man stared down at him, breathing hard, and shoved the limp body with his foot, confirming that he was indeed incapacitated.
The black man was hunched over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Thanks, man,” he gasped, still staring at his fallen foe. Then he straightened up and looked at Jake.
Jake started, fear and uncertainty flooding back. “Jerome. What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
“Shooter sent me. He asked me to keep an eye on you,” Jerome explained, panting as he spoke. “This sucker’s been following you around. I don’t know who he is, but I knew he was trouble.”
The squad car pulled into view at the end of the driveway. Jake waved both arms and shouted, “Over here!”