Due Justice

Chapter 23

Tampa, Florida

Friday 7:00 a.m.

January 22, 1999

When the alarm went off at 7:00, I cursed my promise to keep Grover’s case moving quickly. Promise in haste, repent at leisure, I guess.

We began trial again promptly at 9:00.

Grover looked like he had spent a later night than I had. O’Connell and his associate didn’t look well-rested either.

I remembered too well the years I’d spent preparing long into the night for trials, and attributed the defense team’s weariness to that preparation.

Grover’s ego would never have allowed all-night grunt work. What was his excuse?

Throughout the morning, I found myself studying him, seeking evidence of stress or mental strain caused by anticipation of his arrest for murder. Saw none, unfortunately.

The afternoon session was filled with video depositions, always a boring part of any trial. Rulings were made in advance to avoid interruptions. Lights lowered, courtroom quiet, testimony long and complicated. Always a lethal combination if the goal was to keep the jury awake.

Plaintiffs’ national experts; doctors making a killing by testifying around the country in breast implant cases. It was rumored that some of them charged as much as $25,000 just to review a patient’s medical records, $10,000 for a deposition and $50,000 to testify in court, which they would rarely consent to do.

One of last night’s articles said that many experts made a more prosperous living as professional witnesses than they’d ever earned practicing medicine. The legitimate medical community was appalled, of course, but the experts were doing nothing illegal, or even novel. As Sheldon Warwick had said at George’s party, product liability lawsuits were a growth business.

This afternoon’s witnesses were experts on the surgical techniques for implanting and explanting the breast prostheses. Their testimony consisted of diagrams and charts and videos of actual surgeries, which left most of us squeamish.

I nodded off a couple of times. Maybe no one noticed. I’m fairly sure I didn’t snore. But I sat up straighter in my chair and tried to pay attention. It wasn’t easy.

Grover’s final video of the day was the deposition testimony of an expert immunologist, a doctor specializing in the human immune system.

Grover questioned him for almost an hour before he reached the finish line. “Implants cause the immune system of an implanted woman to turn on itself and destroy her own cells? Is that what happens?”

The doctor said, “It’s like AIDS. Debilitating. Progressive. Degenerative.”

Grover said, “And like AIDS, doctor, breast implants kill?”

The doctor said, “Absolutely.”

Worthington glowered at the testimony in the dark because we already knew his cross examination didn’t dent the doctor’s confidence.

The videos finally ended. The jury seemed more sleepy and bewildered than impressed.

I dismissed the jury and then the parties and returned to my chambers at 4:35, hoping to sneak out before the CJ arrived for the meeting he’d insisted my secretary put on the calendar.

Like a high school principal, he had been the victim of this dodge before;  he’d arrived early and waited. I pretended to be pleasantly surprised to see him; he feigned joy at the prospect; he entered my chambers.