Dr. Taylor: The findings from the Lewinsky baby’s Diffusion-Weighted MRI.
Prosecutor: Does this report truly and accurately reflect the findings from the Magnetic Resonance Imaging?
Dr. Taylor: Yes, it does.
Prosecutor: We would ask the Court to admit State’s Exhibit ‘D’ for Identification as State’s #5.
The Court: Any objections?
Defense Attorney: No, Your Honor.
The Court: State’s Exhibit ‘D’ for Identification will be introduced into evidence as State’s #5.
Prosecutor: Dr. Taylor, what could cause such a serious condition in a newborn?
Dr. Taylor: Several factors can increase the risk of perinatal stroke. Fetal stress, certain infections, disorders of the placenta, congenital heart disease. The more risk factors present, the higher the risk of stroke. But in many cases, a cause is never determined.
Prosecutor: Was a cause determined in the case of the Lewinsky baby?
Dr. Taylor: Yes, it was.
Prosecutor: What was that cause?
Dr. Taylor: Dr. Gillespie, Anna Lewinsky’s OBGYN, suspected a genetic cause. Mrs. Lewinsky had had some difficulty becoming pregnant. She had two known spontaneous abortions, or miscarriages, before carrying the child in question to term. After genetic testing it was determined that Mrs. Lewinsky was heterozygous for factor V Leiden.
Prosecutor: And what exactly does that mean?
Dr. Taylor: Factor V Leiden is a genetic mutation that predisposes people to the risk of blood clots. Mrs. Lewinsky was heterozygous, meaning she had inherited the mutated gene from one parent. Women with factor V Leiden have a higher risk of spontaneous abortion. If the condition is known at the time of pregnancy, anticoagulants can be introduced, maybe something as simple as taking baby aspirin during pregnancy. Unfortunately, in Mrs. Lewinsky’s case, she was unaware of the mutation.
Prosecutor: Dr. Taylor, I’m showing you what’s been marked as State’s Exhibit ‘E’ for Identification. Do you recognize this report?
Dr. Taylor: I do.
Prosecutor: What is this report?
Dr. Taylor: The findings from the Lewinsky family’s genetic testing.
Prosecutor: Is this report a true and accurate representation of the results?
Dr. Taylor: It is.
Prosecutor: I ask the Court to admit State’s Exhibit ‘E’ for Identification as State’s #6.
The Court: Any objections, Mr. Stone?
Defense Attorney: No, Your Honor.
The Court: State’s Exhibit ‘E’ for Identification will be introduced into evidence as State’s #6.
Prosecutor: Dr. Taylor, how would Mrs. Lewinsky’s factor V Leiden have affected the infant?
Dr. Taylor: Factor V Leiden is an inherited disorder; Mrs. Lewinsky’s mother was also found to have the mutation. Because it’s inherited, the infant had a fifty percent chance of also having the mutation. After postmortem testing, it was determined that the Lewinsky baby did, in fact, present with factor V Leiden.
Prosecutor: And this is what led to the stroke?
Dr. Taylor: The risk of clotting increases as risk factors increase. The baby became stressed while still in the birth canal, necessitating the use of forceps. While it’s incredibly rare for a baby to present with such a severe cerebral infarction at birth, it is believed that this combination of factors led to the stroke and subsequent death of the Lewinsky baby.
Prosecutor: You met with Mr. and Mrs. Lewinsky to discuss the genetic indications of factor V Leiden, is that correct?
Dr. Taylor: Yes. I met with them in Mrs. Lewinsky’s hospital room, where she was being treated with anticoagulants as a safety precaution.
Prosecutor: When was that meeting?
Dr. Taylor: It was February 27, 2001.
Prosecutor: How did the Lewinskys react to the news?
Dr. Taylor: They were understandably upset. They had just lost a child.
Prosecutor: How did Mrs. Lewinsky react?
Dr. Taylor: She wept throughout the meeting.
Prosecutor: And Mr. Lewinsky? What was his reaction?
Dr. Taylor: He was visibly agitated, pacing, running his hand through his hair. He told me none of our testing mattered; they no longer wanted to have children. He stated he planned to have a vasectomy as soon as possible so they would never have to go through something so horrendous again.
Prosecutor: Was that the last time you saw the Lewinskys?
Dr. Taylor: No. I saw Mrs. Lewinsky again.
Prosecutor: When did you see her again?
Dr. Taylor: I saw Mrs. Lewinsky August 25, 2011. She had an appointment scheduled for ten o’clock that morning.
Prosecutor: She wanted to meet with you over ten years later? What was the nature of that meeting?
Dr. Taylor: She was pregnant. She had just found out, and she wanted to discuss her options.
Prosecutor: Was Mr. Lewinsky at the meeting?
Dr. Taylor: No. She stated she wanted to come alone. He did not yet know about the pregnancy. She stated that she wanted to gather information without him, as she was afraid of his reaction.
Defense Attorney: Objection. Hearsay.
The Court: Sustained.
Prosecutor: Let the record state I’m showing the witness what’s been marked as State’s Exhibit ‘F’ for Identification. Dr. Taylor, do you recognize these notes?
Dr. Taylor: I do. They’re the clinical notes from my meeting with Mrs. Lewinsky.
Prosecutor: Are they a clear and accurate record of that meeting?
Dr. Taylor: They are.
Prosecutor: I’d ask that State’s Exhibit ‘F’ for Identification be introduced into evidence as State’s #7.
The Court: Any objections?
Defense Attorney: No, Your Honor.
The Court: Let the record show that State’s Exhibit ‘F’ for Identification will be introduced into evidence as State’s #7.
Prosecutor: Thank you, Your Honor. Dr. Taylor, would you please read your note marked item ten, August 25, 2011?
Dr. Taylor: “Patient states she does not want to tell husband about pregnancy. States she is afraid of what he may want her to do. Wants information regarding factor V Leiden and pregnancy in order to make a decision.”
Prosecutor: Did she indicate what she was afraid he might want her to do?
Dr. Taylor: No. I assumed she meant he might want her to abort the fetus.
Defense Attorney: Objection! Speculation. Move to strike that last remark.
The Court: Sustained. The jury is instructed to disregard that last remark.
Prosecutor: Did you see Mrs. Lewinsky again after that?
Dr. Taylor: No. No, that was the last time I saw her.
Chapter 26: February, 2001
Jeffrey lived for three days before dying in Anna’s arms. I would like to say he died peacefully, because had he done so, that might have offered us some peace, as well. But he didn’t. In spite of the phenobarbital prescribed by his doctors, Jeffrey continued to experience seizures, violently and repeatedly, until the moment of his death.
We had known the time was near. Upon our request, Jeffrey was released from the tubes that bound him and handed gently to Anna. We kissed him and stroked him and tried to cram everything we’d thought we’d have an eternity to experience into a few short moments, as if we could wrap our love, and our broken dreams, into a neat package and hand it to him to take with him when he left.
But I was going to teach you to play baseball, I remember saying to him, as if he could somehow stop the journey his body was taking. I was going to teach you to ride a bike, and tie a tie, and spot the Big Dipper. We were going to go fishing. I was going to teach you to drive, and yell at you for missing curfew, and you were going to roll your eyes and think I was the worst dad ever until you had kids of your own, and….
I knew immediately he’d passed on, not only because his tiny body was finally at rest, but because Anna turned her face to mine, and in it I saw eve
ry thought we’d refused to share, every fear we’d refused to voice. I saw not only into Anna, but into our future. She had just stepped into Dante’s dark forest, and the next step, for both of us, was hell.
How to describe the death of one’s child? They sent cards, our friends and family did, along with flowers and poems and prayers, and I wanted to burn every last petal and verse. I didn’t want to hear about angel wings or butterfly kisses and meeting in the Great Beyond. I was enraged by the idea that empty platitudes and trite rhymes were somehow supposed to fill the void, the raw, gaping, endless nothingness left by the death of our baby.
Lest you think I’m ungrateful for the sympathy extended Anna and me during that time, know this: The condolences extended us were real; those who loved us hurt for us. There’s no doubt of that. But even as I knew that, I also knew the cards and flowers and poems about grief and loss were also for them, a box checked off a list. Death in the family? Check. Card sent? Check. Casserole baked? Check.
It’s what we do, as a society. God knows, Anna and I had done it often enough ourselves. We hear of a tragedy and we send gifts; then we go about our business hoping by the next time we see the object of said tragedy, the poor soul has managed to pick himself up and move on before we have to get a good, close look at the ugly truth of his pain. We don’t know what to do with it; it frightens us.
I don’t blame people for not knowing how to help us; there was no way to help us. What do you need? they asked. What can I get for you? And we shook our heads. Nothing, we said, because what else could we say? We need Jeffrey; could you fetch him for us, please?
We held a private memorial service, and Jeffrey was laid to rest in the small cemetery of the church to which Anna and I belonged. I had worried that Anna would break, that she would fling herself into the grave along with the tiny casket, but the breaking of Anna was instead a subtle affair; the cracks were fine but deep, much deeper than I realized at that time. The day of Jeffrey’s funeral, as well as for weeks afterward, she was on such heavy medication I had to physically keep her on her feet as she sagged against me and cried.
I wonder about that now. I wonder if it was a mistake, letting Anna hide from the pain, dulled by the tranquilizers so readily prescribed by our doctor. Overwhelmed by my own grief, I was grateful for the numbing effect the pills provided her. I could barely deal with my anguish; I couldn’t deal with hers. Like friends and neighbors with their sympathy cards, I handed Anna little blue pills, partly to help her through the darkness, partly to ease the added burden of her grief upon me.
If the fracturing of Anna was subtle, my own fracturing was brutal in comparison. The anger I’d felt upon first learning of Jeffrey’s condition continued to fuel me. Within hours of the funeral I’d cleared the nursery of furniture, tossing it into the yard and stomping it to pieces in front of shocked family and friends. When my mother rushed to me, begging me to stop, Brian was the one who gently pulled her back. “Let him be,” he said to her, enclosing her in his arms. “Let him get it out.”
Later, when he found me painting over the monkeys and giraffes Anna had so painstakingly stenciled on the nursery walls, he picked up a brush and set up station on the opposite side of the room, covering the bright, primary colors with broad strokes of dull white. We painted through the night, wordlessly, and by the time the sun began to rise, we’d nearly erased any evidence of a nursery. I suppose I’d thought by doing so I could set back the clock, erase the horror of the past week and reset our lives, starting sometime after the second miscarriage and before the conception of Jeffrey.
It didn’t work, of course. As the darkness outside Jeffrey’s window turned to light, I raised my brush for one final stroke, one more coating of white over the vivid red of the parrot painted just inside the doorway, and I found myself unable to complete the task. I collapsed against the wet wall, stroking the outline of the paintings Jeffrey would never see, remembering the hours of work Anna had put into getting it just right, and I sobbed. Soundlessly, Brian crossed the room to stand behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder until the worst of the convulsions eased and I could catch my breath.
While I raged and stomped and painted, Anna slept, checked on periodically by both her mother and mine. When I think of that time, which I try not to do, I think of myself as having purged the blackness from my soul. My grief and anger were external, on display, and while it wasn’t pretty, the outward expression of my fury allowed me to empty myself of the poison.
Anna, on the other hand, took it inward, sleeping, sitting quietly, medicating. I picture her grief as a parasite, burying deep and changing her very composition with none of us—not even Anna—aware of the damage. And like a parasite, there it sat, waiting, as a parasite does, until it could destroy her, and me in the process.
Chapter 27: January 7, 2013—Trial Transcript
Court Clerk: State your full name for the record, please.
John Cooper: Jonathan Wesley Cooper
The Court: Your witness, Mr. Young.
Prosecutor: Thank you, Your Honor. Where do you live, Mr. Cooper?
John Cooper: Just off the highway. Fifty-one North, I mean. The road off the highway is just an old dirt road, Cooper Lane, named after my family because we’ve lived on it for generations. I’m at 121 Cooper Lane, if you need the exact address.
Prosecutor: Thank you, Mr. Cooper. Do you recognize the defendant over there?
John Cooper: Yes, sir, I do. He’s my neighbor to the south, Phil Lewinsky.
Prosecutor: How long have you known Mr. Lewinsky?
John Cooper: Oh, I’d say going on eighteen years now. Let’s see…he moved into the old Jones place back in the summer of ’95 and Mary Lou—that’s my wife—went over to meet them right away, invited them for supper that first night because she knew they wouldn’t have had a chance to get everything unpacked and straightened out.
Prosecutor: Did they come for supper?
John Cooper: Yes, sir, they did.
Prosecutor: What was your impression of the defendant, Mr. Cooper?
John Cooper: He’s always been a good neighbor. I just can’t imagine him doing what they said he did.
Defense Attorney: Objection. Speculation.
The Court: Sustained. Just answer the questions, Mr. Cooper.
Prosecutor: Mr. Cooper, was there a time you witnessed violent behavior on the part of Mr. Lewinsky?
John Cooper: Yes, sir, there was, but I don’t—
Prosecutor: Just answer the questions, please, Mr. Cooper. So there was a time you witnessed Mr. Lewinsky acting violently?
John Cooper: Yes, sir.
Prosecutor: Can you tell the Court when that was?
John Cooper: Yes, sir. I remember it exactly because it was the day of the baby’s funeral. The wife and I were over at the Lewinsky house paying our respects. It was a bad time. Their little baby hadn’t even made it home from the hospital before he died.
Prosecutor: What was the date on which you witnessed Mr. Lewinsky behaving violently, Mr. Cooper?
John Cooper: It was the second of March, 2001. A Friday. They had laid the baby to rest that morning, and some of us, friends, family, neighbors, you know, had gone back to the house with them after it was all over.
Prosecutor: What happened then, Mr. Cooper?
John Cooper: Well, Anna, Mrs. Lewinsky, was in the bedroom, all tore up over what happened with the baby. Some of us were standing in the kitchen, talking, setting out food like you do, when we heard a big noise from upstairs. Next thing you know, Phil was coming down the stairs holding pieces of a crib—more like a baby bed—in his hands. He went out the front door and threw it in the yard, then starting stomping on it, just smashing it into smithereens.
Prosecutor: What happened next, Mr. Cooper?
John Cooper: Well, he just kept bringing stuff out to the yard, smashing it up and cussing at it.
Prosecutor: What was he saying?
John Cooper: Now, you have to understand, he’d just
buried his baby boy, so you can’t really—
Prosecutor: Mr. Cooper, you’ll get to answer questions from the defense attorney in a moment, but right now I just need you to answer my questions. What was Mr. Lewinsky saying?
John Cooper: Well…he was saying he wished Anna had never gotten pregnant. He was saying he’s make sure nothing like that could ever happen again. But, now, you can’t—
Prosecutor: Thank you, Mr. Cooper. No further questions, Your Honor.
Chapter 28: January 7, 2013—Attorney Consult
I had not expected another visit from Brian. He had made his phone calls and worked his magic, and I had a team of three attorneys representing me, with Brian taking the third position and consulting, coordinating, and—I believe—directing them as needed. In the months following my last meeting with Brian I’d been summoned numerous times to meet with my new attorneys, but only once had Brian been present, on a drizzly day in October, and that was to tell me Anna’s father had died of a heart attack the previous night.
Blessed Are the Wholly Broken Page 10