Chapter Two
“Sam? Are you busy?”
Sarah Meadows stands in the open doorway to her boss’ office. Strategically positioned near the center of the large newsroom, all four walls of the office are glass from floor to ceiling so that Sam Moretti can see everything going on around him. A middle-aged, over-weight son of an Italian immigrant with a rough and tough exterior, he runs a tight ship at the Tribune; but he’s well respected and liked, and his door is always open.
As Sarah arrives, Sam is staring at his computer screen, intently focused on something. He simply holds up his hand and motions for her to sit without saying a word. His hand stays in the air, in case he needs it to keep Sarah from talking while he finishes. Sarah knows better than to interrupt and quietly takes a seat in front of Sam’s desk. She watches and waits, until Sam raises his other hand and ceremoniously hits “Enter” on the keyboard, sending the story to be formatted for the evening edition. Then he turns slightly and smiles at Sarah.
“What can I do for you, Sarah?”
Sam has always had a soft spot for Sarah. She had been his student in high school, and when he took over as chief news editor at the Tribune, he hired her as a part-time health correspondent, against the wishes of his superiors since she had virtually no experience. But her weekly column, HEALTH MATTERS, had become a regular feature for the paper, and some of her best research work had also become known internationally, thanks to the Internet.
The other reason Sarah is welcome in Sam’s office any time is her big scoop two months ago about the settlement in the AIDS trial. It not only made Sarah famous, but was a feather in Sam’s cap as well. Still, Sam is not quite sure himself why he treats Sarah more like a daughter than one of his employees.
“Sam, I’d like to take some time off.”
Sam wasn’t really surprised at the request. Sarah had been spending many more hours than usual for the last few months covering, first, the AIDS trial, and now the ongoing AZT trial, and he knew it had taken a toll on her family life as well. With three children and a successful chiropractor for a husband, Sarah had been quite willing to spend ten or fifteen hours a week researching and writing her health column. But since the AIDS trial started last October, it had been more like forty to fifty hours a week; and Sam knew that was too much. Regardless, he had hoped she would keep at it just a little longer.
“The AZT trial’s not over, Sarah…”
Sarah interrupts by leaning forward on his desk. “I know, Sam. But Gene can handle it. He’s come a long way in a couple months, and he’s filing some good stories.”
“But his name is not Sarah Meadows – the one who broke the story on the AIDS trial settlement. You know, you might just win a Pulitzer for that!”
Sarah blushes and tries to dismiss the idea. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”
“And they give awards for that, Sarah.”
“Let’s not talk about that now. This new trial for GlaxoSmithKline and AZT is pretty much a rehash of what we heard earlier, and I don’t think there will be many surprises. I feel totally confident that Gene is capable of handling it.”
Sam rolls his chair around and looks Sarah straight in the eye. “Do you think they’re going to get away with it?” he asks, almost under his breath.
Sarah ponders the question for a minute. “No, Sam, I don’t. Gladstone is not presenting any evidence to contradict what Messick and Baker had established in the first trial, and although Gladstone is putting on a strong defense this time – and I think he thought he could get a different outcome – it’s still pretty obvious that 90% of the AIDS cases in this country up until 1997 were caused by AZT, not HIV. No,” she pauses, “I think he’s going to lose just like Crawley did, and the jury is going to award a lot more money to the families of those who died from taking AZT.”
“You’re one of those families, Sarah. Don’t you want to stay with this trial until it’s over?”
“You know the money’s not important to me, Sam. It can’t bring my brother back. Besides, I just found out there’s another trial that may be even more important for me to cover.”
Sam looks genuinely surprised this time. “Another trial? You’re not going to go home to your family and rest?”
“No, I’m not. As a matter of fact, I’m going to leave in two days for South Carolina.”
Now Sam is completely baffled. “What in God’s name is so important that you have to go to South Carolina? Don’t they still fly the confederate flag there?”
Sarah is enjoying watching Sam squirm. He always wanted to be one step ahead of his employees and was clearly uncomfortable that Sarah knew something he didn’t. It was fun for her to be in this position for once.
“Sam, the AIDS trial dealt with the people who were killed in this country through 1997. As important as that is, there’s another tragedy going on today – right now – that I’m just finding out about, and that I think we should be covering.”
“Are you talking about what’s happening with AIDS in Africa, because while it’s tragic – and I agree that it is – it’s really not something our readers seem to care that much about.”
Sarah winces at the sad truth, wishing it weren’t so. “Do you know what I just heard today, Sam? Bono’s Red Campaign to fight AIDS in Africa only raised 18 million dollars in its entire first year. And they spent 100 million to advertise it.”
Sam leans back in his chair. He isn’t sure how he feels about the Red Campaign. On one hand, it’s a sign of the times that most Americans pay so little attention and give so little of themselves to people in other countries who really needed our help. On the other hand, since Clinton and Bono and Oprah and Gates and company are still stuck on the idea that HIV causes AIDS – despite the outcome of the AIDS trial – and their solution is to send more lethal drugs to give to unsuspecting Africans, part of him is glad the Red Campaign is failing.
“But if you’re not talking about AIDS in Africa, what are you talking about?”
Sarah leans forward in her chair and puts her forearms on the front of Sam’s desk. “I’m talking about the fact that we continue to diagnose people in this country as HIV-Positive, and continue to pressure them into taking highly toxic drugs, even though it’s now been proven that HIV doesn’t cause AIDS. But that’s still only half the story.”
Sarah leans back again and pauses long enough for Sam to get impatient. When she doesn’t speak, but instead gets a glazed look in her eyes, Sam asks, “Are you going to make me beg for the other half.”
Sarah laughs. “Sorry, Sam. No. I just got lost chasing a fleeting thought for a second. The other half is this. Ever since people knew I was involved in the AIDS trial, I’ve been getting lots of emails about different aspects of HIV and AIDS. Some of them are from kooks and conspiracy theorists. But some of them have made me realize that there are as many questions to be raised about the accuracy of the HIV tests as there were about the theory that HIV causes AIDS.”
“I’m not sure I’m following you.”
“Let me put it this way, Sam. In the last twenty-four hours, and I mean that literally, more than one-hundred people in the United States alone have been told they are HIV-Positive based on getting a positive HIV test, according to the estimates from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. That’s one-hundred people right now who are going through hell, whose lives have been changed in an instant, whose hopes and dreams for the future are totally crushed, whose families are in turmoil, and whose friends may never speak to them again. I know what it means to be diagnosed HIV-Positive. I went through it with my brother, Greg. It truly is a living hell. But the worst part is, it looks like the HIV tests may be very unreliable and diagnosing many of these people incorrectly. So the tragedy is compounded.”
Sam is thrown off balance once again. “That’s the first I’ve heard of the HIV tests being wrong. Are you sure of this?”
“No, I’m not. Not yet,” Sarah admits. “And that’s why I want to d
o a lot more research to find out what’s true and what’s not. But there’s even more to the story, Sam.”
This time he waits until Sarah is ready to talk again. He can see some emotion in her face, can hear it in her voice, and he wants to give her the time and space to get it all out.
“Sam, I’ve read some reports that these people who are being told they are HIV-Positive are being pressured into taking what may still be highly toxic drugs.”
“I thought we stopped giving AZT to people years ago.”
“True, at least not by itself in the high doses it used to be prescribed. But there’s still some AZT apparently in a couple of the drug cocktails used today.”
“And people are still dying from it?”
“Again, Sam, I don’t know anything for sure yet. All I know is that even the AIDS ‘experts’ are admitting that about 25 people are dying every day from the side effects of these newer HIV drugs, and not from any AIDS-related illness.”
Sam is suddenly losing his own cool. “Wait a minute. You’re saying that we’re telling one-hundred people a day they are HIV-Positive, and there’s a chance many of them got the wrong diagnosis, and twenty-five of them are admittedly dying from the drugs they’re told to take anyway?”
“That’s what it looks like to me right now. But I want to verify that.”
Sam pops up out of his chair. “Damn right, you should. And I get to print this story when you’re done. I’m tired of these guys getting away with this bullshit. How long will it take you?”
It’s very seldom that Sarah sees Sam display any kind of emotion, or express his own opinion about any issue; and in this case, he’s jumped the gun. “Hang on, Sam.”
“For what? The answer’s ‘Yes,’ you can have the time off for this. Let’s work out the details.”
“Please wait a minute, Sam.”
Sam looks carefully at Sarah and sees that she’s on the verge of tears. Finally he puts two and two together.
“Sarah, I’m sorry.” He gives Sarah a few minutes to regain her composure. “This is about your brother again, isn’t it?”
Sarah nods, but doesn’t speak. Finally, “I’ve been through the worst of it, Sam, realizing that it was the AZT that killed him, and it was I who played a big part in his taking that awful drug. But now I’m wondering: Was Greg even HIV-Positive to begin with? Was this whole thing a big mistake? If the HIV tests really aren’t very accurate at all, how many others have lost loved ones because of another lie from these AIDS ‘experts’? I’ve got to know, Sam. I’ve got to know for sure.”
“I don’t blame you, Sarah. Take all the time you need. Is this why you’re going to South Carolina?”
Sarah takes out a tissue and dabs at her eyes, being careful not to smear her mascara. “I got a call over the weekend from an old friend. There’s a trial that just started in Greenville…”
“Greenville, South Carolina?”
“It’s pronounced Greenvul, Sam, not Green-ville. And the town next to it, Greer, is pronounced Grrrr – in two syllables.”
“Whatever. What’s this trial about?”
“You know that a lot of states have recently passed laws making it a crime to have sex with someone without telling them you are HIV-Positive.”
“I’ve heard that, yes.”
“Well, this trial goes beyond that. A man is being charged with first degree murder for sleeping with a woman, not telling her he was HIV-Positive, and then she got AIDS and died.”
Apparently it was a day for Sam to be caught flatfooted more than once.
“Murder?”
“Yes, first degree murder. And the defense apparently is going to claim that the HIV-tests that diagnosed him are wrong most of the time, and that there’s no real scientific proof that he, or the girl that died, were actually infected with HIV. So this will be a case, like the AIDS trial, where all the evidence will come out about the HIV tests.”
“Perfect!”
“And it’s possible that the girl died from the drugs she took after she was diagnosed HIV-Positive, so that story will come out in sworn testimony as well.”
“Double perfect!” Sam is elated at the possibility of another huge scoop for the paper; and then he comes back to reality. “But we’ve got a few problems, Sarah.”
“What?”
“There’s no way I can talk the Tribune into paying to send you to South Carolina to cover this trial, way out of our coverage, especially when we don’t know how long it will take.”
“That’s okay, Sam. I’m not asking for that. This friend who called me…”
Suddenly worried, Sam interrupts. “How did he find out about the trial?”
“It’s a ‘she,’ and she now lives about thirty minutes from Greenville, near Spartanburg, South Carolina. We met when I lived in California. She was a student in the same class as my husband, Bill, at Palmer West Chiropractic College, and now she’s teaching at a chiropractic college called Sherman.”
Sam was disappointed. “So it’s already all over the papers back east?”
“No, Sam. Gwen – Dr. Gwen Turner… one of the reasons we became such good friends is that she also lost a brother to AIDS a few years ago. So she’s been following this issue, and she found out about this trial and let me know. She’s still single and living alone in a house on a lake, and she’s invited me to stay with her as long as I want. And I’m willing to pay my own expenses to get there and back. The Tribune doesn’t have to spend a penny on this.”
That was one problem solved; but there were others.
“What about your weekly column?”
“I can always write it and send it to you from wherever I am in the world; and I already have columns planned for the next month, in case I’m gone that long.”
“On what?”
“Remember when I said that there were one-hundred people a day still being diagnosed HIV-Positive in this country?”
“It wasn’t that long ago, Sarah, and I’m not that old – yet. Of course I remember.”
“I think our readers should know what these people go through when they’re told they’re HIV-Positive, what happens to them and to their lives from that point on. And some of the emails I’ve gotten have been from Positives who want to tell their own true stories. So I’m going to do some in depth interviews with a few of them and use them as my column for the next few weeks.”
“Sarah, do you really think most people really want to read about that?”
“Yes, I do, Sam. For one thing, people seem to love to hear true-life stories about other people; and look at the response that came in after the feature article was printed about me last November. It was amazing.”
“True.”
“And these one-hundred people a day being diagnosed HIV-Positive are not limited to a small number of gay men or drug addicts any more. In fact, since the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced their new protocol last May to have everyone in this country tested for HIV, more and more people are being diagnosed HIV-Positive who are not gay and who have not used drugs – white soccer moms, Little League coaches, high-powered executives. In fact, my first column next week will be about a sixty-year-old woman from rural Texas, mother of eight children. Sam, it’s important for us to tell everyone that if this keeps up, no one is safe from having an HIV diagnosis touch them very close to home. Maybe it won’t be them, but it will be their family, or a loved one, or someone they work with. Yes, I think people should be told about this, and read about what it means to be labeled HIV-Positive, especially if that label is wrong.”
“Alright. We can at least try it for a week or two and see what the response is. Just make sure I’ve got your column by close every Monday so I can have it ready for your usual Tuesday placement. When do you leave?”
“Day after tomorrow. I’ll go to the AZT trial with Gene tomorrow morning and make sure he’s comfortable to take over on his own. And then I fly out Wednesday around noon.”
“But what about you
r family?”
“Bill has been really great about this and we made all the arrangements this weekend to make sure the kids are taken care of.”
“No idea how long you’ll be gone?”
“Not at the moment. The trial actually started last Wednesday. Right now the prosecution is still calling its own witnesses. Gwen is faxing me the transcripts of the opening statements so I can read them before I get there.”
Are You Positive? Page 2