EJAX-472: Ch. 08

"The police just pulled up," Rebecca said, catching sight of the patrol cars from her bedroom window.

Within minutes the police had cordoned off the area around the front of the house while several others were allowed in, ready to escort Rebecca and me to one of their squad cars. Cameras clicked and lights flashed as soon as the front door was opened and a plethora of questions were hurled at us as we walked briskly down the cement walkway, heads down. I felt like a Hollywood celebrity trying to dodge a gang of abusive paparazzi as we gingerly made our way through the boisterous and tumultuous group. At last the patrol car door slammed behind us and we sped away, leaving behind a sea of frustrated and unhappy people.

Rebecca didn't let go of my hand once during the entire trip. For the first time, I had been the one who had shown the most resilience under stress, and I had been the one to comfort her. Somehow I had discovered within me some newfound strength, and I think she was grateful that it was I, and not someone else, who had been the one to assuage her grief during her rare moment of weakness.

At one point we looked behind us to see if the reporters were following. At first we didn't see them because the patrol cars behind us blocked our view. But when we made a wide turn onto the boulevard heading into the city, we noticed a train of blue vans keeping pace with us. Bonnie had warned me that it was going to be a media circus, and as I thought about the crowds awaiting us at the courthouse, I felt as trapped as a rat in a cage. It was a most unsettling feeling.

As the patrol car pulled into the driveway of the courthouse, we noticed the vans continue on down the street looking for places to park. Lining the stairs on each side of the front entrance to the building were hundreds of people, mostly reporters, photographers, and news people of all kinds, all jockeying for position once they saw us being led up the long walkway by the police. Before I knew what was going on, microphones and other parts of human anatomy were being shoved in my face as men and women fought to penetrate the dense police contingent that had been ordered to protect us. The multitude of faces passed before me like a blur as the cops goaded us forward through the resistant throng. And just when I felt that I could withstand no further jostling, another group of officers descended from the courthouse steps and drove the onlookers away, attacking the mobs' flanks with their nightsticks until the unruly crowd was forced to reluctantly give ground, forming little splinter groups that hovered on the fringes of our tiny sphere of protection like starving hyenas around a hapless animal.

Rebecca continued to cling on to me throughout the entire ordeal, her terrified face looking this way and that as the crowd quickly reclaimed the space vacated by the police, the crushing mass of bodies pressing into us from the rear and propelling us forward as if of its own momentum. My feet flew up the stairs, sometimes not even touching the ground, as the officers on either side of me lifted me up to accommodate their rapid ascent, compensating for the swift, forward-moving motion coming from their rear. It was at that moment that I caught a glimpse of a woman's face insinuating itself through the conglomeration of visages that were bearing down upon us from the cramped alcove to my right. Although the image came into view for only a very brief interval of time, it made a distinct impression upon me because the small eyes, misshapen nose, and small, thin-lipped mouth immediately reminded me of some carnivorous aerial creature, creating an impression at once singularly menacing and grotesque. But it was her eyes that haunted me most. Displaying no emotion nor reflecting any warmth, like two spectral points of light they seemed to peer into my soul, conveying a vague malevolence. Where I had seen that face before I could not recall, but it succeeded in adding further torment to my already troubled mind.

At last the doors to the courtroom came into view, and the tide of bodies that had been swelling up behind us now seemed to dissipate like waves breaking upon the shore. Behind us a wall of police stood guard at the entrance to the building, an imposing mass of blue uniforms that now served to keep the hyenas at bay. I felt the grip on my arms relax as the policemen now gently escorted us into the courtroom. Rebecca's hair was in disarray, having been tussled during the fray. I checked my own body for any signs of damage and discovered that the one of the buttons on my suit had been torn off. It was a minor price to pay for so difficult a travail.

As we entered the courtroom, my eyes panned left and right, scanning the area in search of familiar faces. Considering it was a hearing and not a full-blown trial, the room was packed to capacity. I estimated that there were over 250 people at least.

"There's Michelle and the girls," Rebecca said, pointing to my left.

My colleagues were sitting together in the middle row of seats and waved at us as we made our way past them. Michelle sat closest to us, and on her left were Jennifer, Sheila, and a forlorn-looking Dr. Hagstrom.

"I told you she would come," Rebecca said.

I acknowledged my friends with a wave of the hand and a smile. All of them smiled back, wishing me luck, but I could tell that despite her forced smile, Dr. Hagstrom's face looked shallow and gaunt, as if from a lack of sleep.

"We heard about the Clinic," Michelle said, taking my hand in hers. "How are you two holding up?"

"So far, so good. But I'll admit that I'm pretty despondent right now."

"Don't be. All your research is safely in Dr. Hagstrom's care."

I looked at the haggard doctor. She returned my gaze with a weak smile and then looked away.

"And this is nothing but a charade," Michelle continued. "You've done nothing illegal."

"Not according to the courts," Rebecca said.

"Screw them," Michelle replied sourly. "Their case is really with Bonnie's husband—the asshole. I'm sorry I ever stooped so low as to give that jerk a handjob."

Sitting immediately in front of my colleagues were the test subjects: John Cardelli and his wife Ann; Adam Hildebrand; Jeffrey Ames and his wife Priscilla; Stuart Borg and his fiancé Denise; Craig and Cheryl; and Barney Cole. I noticed that his wife Janine was not with him. Seated to his right were Maria and Lynette, talking loudly. Upon seeing us, everyone responded with smiles and words of encouragement. A few of them offered their condolences on the loss of my Clinic.

"It was a professional job," Lynette said. "No doubt about it. It wasn't the work of no damn kids I can tell you that."

Seated across from them on the opposite side of the aisle were roughly two dozen young women, all dressed in formal business attire and talking nervously amongst themselves: all except one. She was a pretty girl with long brown hair and fair complexion, looking intently preoccupied as she toyed with the cuffs of her white blouse. The men and women seated directly behind the girls would often stop and chat with them, and I surmised that these people were most likely the girls' parents. Two of the girls, one a beautiful brunette and the other an equally attractive blonde, laughed and teased each other, heedless of the restrained decorum. The brunette caught me looking at her and eyed me warily, her gaze then casually shifting toward John Cardelli. She smiled seductively at him and then quickly turned away and whispered something in the blonde girl's ear. They both giggled loudly. Ann Cardelli did not appreciate the young girl's impudence and stared at her threateningly. John had not met the girl's gaze but his wife said something to him and he just shook his head but did not reply.

Seated directly behind the two chatty girls was a much older woman dressed in a gray skirt and matching blazer. Her face seemed molded into a perpetual scowl. On her lapel was the insignia of St. Bridget's Preparatory School.

"Must you keep talking Bridget?" she said to the brunette. "And where are your parents anyway?"

"They both have the flu dean Stedman," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Ms. Stedman wasn't convinced. "Your parents don't have the flu," she said. "I know for a fact that both of them got drunk last night at the Charity Ball and didn't make it home until early this morning. It's positively disgraceful."

Bridget didn't reply.

"That's my sister!" I heard a woman's voice shout. "Hey sis! Over here!"

Dressed splendidly in a three-piece black suit and matching black high-heel shoes, Bonnie beckoned Rebecca and I over to our attorney's table, which was located several feet to the left of the center aisle facing the judge's bench. Philip was sitting down engaged in a conversation with another man, but the two of them rose from their seats as Rebecca and I approached. She looked relaxed and refreshed; in fact, she looked absolutely stunning as she threw her arms around me and kissed me several times. Philip however, looked tired and haggard, as if he had just returned from running a marathon.

"My poor little sister!" Bonnie said, hugging me tightly. "I heard about the Clinic on the way over here. I'm so sorry sis. We'll do all that we can to help you, I promise."

"We aren't going to be any help to anybody unless we get out of this mess," Philip said with a sullen expression.

"Don't listen to him," Bonnie said, giving her husband a dour look. "Everything is going to turn out just fine. You'll see. We've got the best lawyer in the world on our side, isn't that right Stephan?"

"I'll do my best Bonnie," he said.

Bonnie and Philip introduced the handsome, six-foot tall attorney to Rebecca and I, and he invited us to sit down next to him.

The first thing I noticed about Stephan was that he looked more like a news anchorman than he did a lawyer. He was strikingly handsome for one thing, and his blond hair, with just a touch of gray at the sides, imparted upon his features a sense of wisdom that belied his forty-one years. He had a warm smile, and his eyes were a pale, blue color, sparkling with an inner luminosity that reminded me of a warm summer's day at the beach. He was dressed in a three-piece, dark gray, pin-stripped suit with a light-blue shirt and grayish-blue tie. The only thing missing was a cue sheet.

Rebecca and I took to him immediately and I found his frankness and warmth a refreshing change from some of the lawyers I had dealt with in the past, most of whom were rather stuffy and formal as they expounded legalese to me in their pompous, legalistic way. He exchanged some polite pleasantries with us before going over the details of the hearing. His hope was that he could get my case thrown out of court altogether based upon the lack of evidence directly linking me to any wrongdoing. He was not so hopeful for Philip however.

"I have studied all the supporting evidence in this case and have obtained sworn testimonials from your test subjects, their individual physicians—who will not appear in court unless this thing goes to trial—and your colleagues and staff. Judging from what I've seen, you do not seem to have broken the law in any tangible way. The charges brought against you by the state of "reckless endangerment" seem unsupportable, and I really don't see how they can be proven given the lack of willful intent. My guess is that the prosecution is going to try to convince the court that you acted irresponsibly in the way you administered the drug and will try to nail you on that account. One thing in your favor is that Philip has pleaded guilty to stealing your drug and for disseminating it unlawfully to various drug traffickers in this country. Although his admission, and the lack of evidence, absolves you from any wrongdoing in this regard, the prosecution will probably try to invent a connection between the two of you in which they hope to prove that you are partners working in tandem. I wouldn't worry about it. But I would be concerned about the irresponsibility issue. If they can convince the judge that you treated the drug and your patients in a reckless fashion, then you open yourself up to a host of legal issues that will force you us to go to trial. We don't want that. We want to settle this thing now before it explodes in our faces. If it's any consolation, I can tell you that there will be no surprises, but beyond that, it's anybody's guess."

"Why did you plead guilty, Philip?" Rebecca asked.

"I told him to," Stephan replied. "The evidence against him was irrefutable."

"My trial comes up in two months," Philip said. "Stephan advised me to cooperate with the police and seek clemency from the courts."

"We used to own the police," Bonnie said, ruefully. "But we don't anymore."

"Nor the courts," Stephan added, tersely. "All the favoritism your husband showed to certain people to help them get elected to high office has come back to haunt him. These same people are going to seek to bring him to his knees so that their own fraudulent behavior is not revealed. Our legal system is not totally compromised however. As you know, the Mayor himself has been incarcerated along with several dozen other high-ranking officials. But there are many decent public servants who have now been able to step into those vacant shoes, so there is a good chance for leniency in this matter. If Philip cooperates with the law, as he has done so far, then we now have the opportunity to rid ourselves of the remaining political corruption that existed under your husband's influence."

"You want me to name people, I will," Philip said. "That's what it's all about anyway isn't it? I help the law weed out these guys and I get off with a slap on my hands."

"That's the best you could hope for at this point. Unless there is further incriminating evidence forthcoming."

"Like what?"

Suddenly, all of us turned our heads around upon hearing a commotion coming from the back of the courtroom. Several tall men were escorting a much smaller man quickly up the aisle, and the little man didn't like the way he was being handled.

"Hey, keep your fucking hands off me man!"

The bailiff standing on the opposite side of aisle waved the party forward, and as they came closer Luis Ramon Hernandez's sneering face turned toward us.

"Like him," Stephan said, in answer to Philip's question.

Lt. Endland and Sgt. Richter nodded gravely at us as they gently pushed Luis into a chair behind the prosecutor. The two officers sat on either side of the angry-looking creature as the great doors of the courtroom were closed shut. I thought he looked ludicrous, dressed as he was in a shabby, dark brown suit. Not only was it too big for him, it looked incongruous on the frame of a man who, so far as I knew, never wore anything except a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. His dark, curly hair was brushed back haphazardly and his face was unshaven, lending to his thug-like demeanor.

"What threat can he be to me?" Philip whispered, with a tinge of agitation in his voice. "You said there would be no surprises."

"Not so far as I know," Stephan replied. "But I had a chance to interrogate Mr. Hernandez the other day and I can tell you that this guy is a real head case. He especially has it in for you doctor."

"Yes, I know," I replied, sneaking a glance at the downcast face.

"And you too," he said to Bonnie.

Bonnie chuckled. "Oh, he's just upset because I shot him out of a cannon."

Rebecca and I looked at each other and laughed as the comical view came back to mind.

"Pardon me?" Stephan said, his eyes searching each of our faces.

"He didn't tell you?" Bonnie asked, in a light-hearted manner. "Well, I'm sure it will all come out during the hearing. He got better than he deserved if you ask me."

Philip bit his lower lip. "I'm surprised you didn't shoot me out of that thing too."

"I was tempted to Philip, believe me. And it's still within the range of possibility," she warned.

He thought she was joking but her face remained stolid.

"That guy," Stephan said, pointing to the prosecutor, a 30-ish looking man in a dark blue suit, "is Michael Gustafson. An excellent prosecuting attorney who does not suffer fools gladly. He's only thirty-two years old, but already he's making a name for himself. My advice to all of you is to be honest, succinct, and respectful. Believe me, if you lie he'll trap you. I've seen him do it many times, so be careful."

The man he was referring to was conferring with an associate, and paid no attention to the little insect sitting to his right. He seemed the perfect incarnation of an exemplary trial lawyer: tall, refined, impeccably dressed, and arrogant. The only thing he seemed to lack was a certain genuineness, which our own attorney seemed to possess in abundance. He had long, wavy brown hair that was pulled back close to his head and fell halfway down his back, culminating in a ponytail. He had small, delicate features that bordered on the effeminate, and his smallish, pale-skinned hands worked feverishly at putting his associate's unkempt pile of documents in order. I instinctively felt a vague dislike for the man.

Stephan and Philip resumed their earlier conversation while Bonnie, Rebecca, and I pondered our collective fate.

"Do you trust this Dr. Hagstrom?" Bonnie asked.

"I trust Michelle," I replied. "And as Dr. Hagstrom is Michelle's friend I have no choice but to trust her as well under the circumstances."

"Oh, sis, why do you always put yourself in these positions?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're putting all your valuable work in a stranger's hands. Do you think that's wise?"

"What would you do Bonnie?" Rebecca said. "Outside of the University, there is no lab sophisticated enough for us to continue our research. Dr. Hagstrom was gracious enough to permit us to use her own labs, with Michelle's recommendation of course."

"Of course," Bonnie replied. "Michelle does have a way of getting what Michelle wants."

"And lucky for us that she did," I said. "Otherwise, I'd be starting from square one all over again."

"You're far too trusting, sis. I've said it before and I'll say it again. You just better make sure Michelle sits on this woman or your entire career is going to go bye-bye."

"Well there's not really much I can do about it at this point Bonnie. You may think my trust in this woman is misplaced but can you tell me what other options I have right now?"

She sat quietly for a while looking thoughtful under our scrutinizing eyes. At last she shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

"I suppose you're right, sis. I didn't mean to be insensitive. I'm just worried about you, that's all."

I reached out and patted her hand. "You'd better worry about yourself. You're under arrest too."

"Not anymore," she said smiling.

"What do you mean?"

"You see that guy Endland over there?" she said, smiling at the officer. "He let me off."

"Let you off?" Rebecca said, surprised. "How did you manage that?"

Bonnie pulled her right hand in close to her chest and jerked her open fist back and forth quickly.

"Oh no," I said trying to speak softly. "You gave him a handjob?"

She leaned in towards us making certain Philip couldn't hear. "It's not the first."

She looked back and forth at us trying to gauge our reactions. Rebecca and I were hard pressed to suppress a laugh.

"You are too fucking much!" Rebecca said.

"It was only a misdemeanor anyway," she said, insouciantly.

"Is he as tough as he looks," I asked, throwing a glance his way.

"Actually, he only lasted a minute!" Bonnie grinned. "But he came buckets!"

The three of us laughed, but a warning stare from Stephan quickly changed our mood.

Luis was sitting quietly watching the attorney attend to his duties, oblivious to his presence. His head was down and he was fidgeting with his fingers, every now and then turning our way, and always with a menacing look on his face.