Title: Every Street chapter 4
Author: Triggersaurus
triggersaurus@hotmail.com 
For the previous chapters, see
http://www.geocities.com/er_trig/triggersfics.html


Previously:
The room rumbled with scattered whispers.
"The prosecution calls Dr. Douglas Ross."

--------

This did little to serve the noise in the room, and Judge Lomak was getting
increasingly irritated. "ORDER!"

The room fell quiet once again.  Doug rose from his seat, and slipped round
the table buttoning his jacket.  The walk to the stand seemed to take
forever, not just for him but for everyone watching.  As he took the oath,
he tried to steel himself for what was to come, it was possibly going to be
the hardest thing he had ever done in his life.  Somehow, he had to show
these people that what he had done was right, despite the law.  He just
hoped that if he managed to keep his cool, DeVann wouldn't screw up.

"Dr. Ross.  You graduated medical school in 1988, correct?"

"Yes."

"Which school did you attend?"

"University of Kentucky Medical School."

"What do you remember about your graduation day?"

"Well, I...there was a lot of drink...I don't remember too much."  He
grinned lopsidedly, and a few people in the room smirked.

"I don't suppose then, in the haze that was your graduation, that you
managed to remember that you took an oath that day?"

Warning bells went off in Doug's head.
"Drinking doesn't start till after you graduate in Kentucky.  I remember the
oath."

"So you would be familiar with the promise, 'I will not give fatal drugs to
anyone - even if I am asked, nor will I ever suggest any such thing'?"

"I am."

"Did you make that promise, Dr. Ross?"

"Yes I did."

"Can you say you've been faithful to that promise?  Have you upheld the
Hippocratic Oath, Doctor?"

"In my interpretation, yes I have."

"Your interpretation?  I didn't know the Hippocratic Oath was open to
interpretation!"

"I think that you have to weigh these things up - and I believe that helping
the sick to the best of my abilities is the most important part of being a
doctor."

"And how do you think Hippocrates himself would feel about this??"

"I think he'd just be happy that a kid was put out of his pain and
suffering."

"Would he be happy that you abused your position to kill a child?"

"OBJ-" Before Clifton could get any further, he was cut off by the eruption
from the witness box.

"Have you ever watched a kid dying??  Have you ever looked at a kid and
known that he's looking at you to stop all the pain?  Have you??  Do you
know what it's like to be in the position where everyone expects you to have
a cure, and you don't and you can't explain it?  And the kid doesn't
understand why it's happening to him, why he's in so much pain?  And you're
the only way that he can turn?  Do you know that feels?? DO YOU KNOW HOW IT
FEELS??" Doug gripped the railings at the front of the witness box, leaning
over them, spitting at the lawyer and the injustice of everything.  He ran
out of words and stared at the lawyer, clenched and shaking from the anger.
He didn't hear the judge bang and call loudly for order; he didn't hear the
reprimand either, but loosened his grip on the rails and moved backwards.
No doubt that made a fantastic impression on the jury, he thought.  Smart
move, Doug.

"So are you saying that you were motivated to perhaps put yourself out of
suffering here, Dr. Ross?  After all, you obviously were going through some
real pain, being in this position."

Before Doug could leap forward again, a court official grabbed his arms from
behind and held him back.  After a couple of deep breaths, Doug shook
himself free and sat down.  He couldn't believe he'd snapped that quick, but
then he could believe it as well.  The most important thing was that he'd
probably just totally destroyed what he had left of a chance.  He'd just
crashed on in without thinking of the consequences - again.  Well, he
rationalised, I guess there's not much I can do now but tell the honest
goddamned truth, unlike some people.  And maybe at least one jury member
will believe me.

"Ricky Abbott was experiencing more pain than most of us can ever imagine.
Mrs. Abbott had watched her oldest son go through exactly the same thing,
she knew he was in pain and how he was going to die in agony, and she felt
hopeless.  I know because I felt that way too and yet both of them, Ricky
and Joi, they were looking to me for the answers.  What would you do, just
sit there and let him die a slow death?  You think it's the simplest thing
in the world to tell a parent that their child won't feel anything when they
die, and you think that it's easy to stand by and watch a kid tied in knots
from muscle failure, watch him drool 'cause he has no control over himself
anymore, and to know that although he can't do anything physically, in his
head he's begging you to make it stop."  Doug took a breath, feeling his
anger rising again.  Before Sullivan could launch another missile at him, he
collected his thoughts and spoke again.

"I gave Mrs. Abbott the code to the PCA machine because she wanted Ricky to
stop suffering. And...because I wanted him to stop suffering."

Sullivan looked like he'd chewed a lemon - Doug had stolen his moment of
glory by confessing earlier than he'd expected.  But there was little to be
lost, the guy had just practically awarded himself a life sentence now.  The
chewed lemon expression changed to one of smugness and he shot a look around
the room quickly before smirking at the judge.  "No further questions."
Clifton, mouthing to himself at his desk, stood up with a notebook of
frantically scrawled notes.  Moving towards the witness box, he stopped and
rushed back to the oak table to scribble something else on his legal pad
before resuming his path to fate.   He smiled at Doug.  Unsure as to what
exactly the smile meant, Doug consoled himself that it couldn't get any
worse, so maybe the smile had been a reassuring one.  Maybe, just maybe,
Clifton had something up his sleeve.  God knows what, but anything right now
would be a blessing.

"Dr. Ross, being a doctor means more to you than just preventing death,
right?"

"Yes."

"What else would you consider your responsibility, within this job?"

"Taking care of my patients...making sure they're not in pain, just looking
out for them."

"And would you say that putting patients out of their pain is generally
accepted my all doctors as a key point of the job?"

"Yeah..."

"After earlier evidence, do you believe that the act of 'mercy killing' is
committed more frequently than we all presume?  Is it sanctioned within
medicine, provided it isn't pulled into the outside world?"

There was a heavy silence as Doug looked past DeVann at Mark.  Mark looked
back, unreadable expression in his eyes, mouth set in a hard line.  Shifting
his gaze to DeVann, Doug tried to give him a warning glare, but DeVann was
too dumb to notice, smiling eagerly back like a child with a secret he
wanted to share.

"Dr. Ross?"  Judge Lomak pressed for a response.

"I think...maybe it happens more than any of us want to think.  But it isn't
for the wrong reasons.  I know that my colleagues at least can say that they
would never consider it unless under pressure from family or the patient
themselves.  And they wouldn't do it, I wouldn't do it unless there was no
other option for treatment."

"But that's a yes?"

"Uh huh. I mean, yeah."

"Okay..." some more scribbled notes.  Trust Clifton not to prepare.  Don't
rule him out yet, Doug chastised himself.  "Could you lead us through the
exact events leading up to Ricky Abbott's death?"

"Yes.  Um.  The day before Ricky died, he came into the emergency room at
County, because he was in so much pain.  The genetics department wanted to
admit him to their service, but Mrs. Abbott wanted her son to be at home
when he died - it was clear he would die within the next couple of days.
So..." he stopped to clear his throat, "I said I'd talk to Dr. Julian, who
works in Genetics and see if we could get Ricky a patient-controlled
analgesia machine to take home.  So he wouldn't be in so much pain." At this
point, Doug's eyes flicked to Carol, sitting on the bench behind the
railings with Mark.  She looked at him, impassive.  He wasn't going to let
her get into trouble the way Mark had. A sudden feeling of hopelessness
engulfed him and for a moment he thought he should just give up there and
then.  But a fighting instinct kicked back in and he carried on, meeting
Carol's eyes.  "When we got the PCA machine, I got hold of some Dilaudid,
which is a strong painkiller, and gave it to Joi to take home with the
machine.  Later on, I spoke to Nurse Hathaway, who had received a call from,
uh, Mrs. Abbott, because she was having some trouble with the machine. I
wasn't too crazy about going to help her out, I thought she should have some
time with her son, but I went to help anyway.  I showed her how to
administer the medication, and did the first round for her.  We ended up
staying the night because I didn't want her to get into any more difficulty.
I gave Ricky another dose in the morning at about 7am, when Mrs. Abbott said
to me that, ahem.  She said she didn't want Ricky to go through any more
pain and she didn't think she could take it either.  She wanted me to end
Ricky's pain, she said.  But I was late for work, and I didn't know what to
do about it.  So I gave Joi the over-ride code to the PCA."
The words hung on the air, as breath formed on the windows and the impact of
putting these actions into words filtered through the minds in the
courtroom.  Before, it had just seemed like a chain of events that were spun
into a downward spiral, and if no one put it all together it wouldn't seem
so bad.  If no one said it out loud then maybe it never happened.  But now
it was there - the spiral and sprung into place and the big picture was
clear, right in front of them.  Doug had sanctioned the death of a little
boy, another human being and he admitted it.  He had been a step away from
murder, and although the circumstances were extenuating, it would not bring
that life back.

"Dr. Ross, if we can just back up a bit.  You said you acquired the PCA
machine.  Where did you get it from?"

"I got it from the ER's Day Clinic."

"Not from the ER itself?"

"Uh, no."

"Why not?"

"Because the attending in charge wouldn't sign one out."

"Because...?"

Doug shifted a little in his seat, now avoiding looking at his audience.
"Because Ricky was not on the ER service, he was on Genetics."

"So why did you get one from the clinic?  Why didn't you go to genetics??"

Before Doug could answer, the large face of the judge was leaning over into
the face of Clifton DeVann.  "Counselor DeVann, do you intend to defend your
client at ALL?"

Startled, DeVann jumped, then turned around to face the judge.
"I, yes I do, Your Honour, this is background to my defence..."

"It's a background that could get your client in more trouble than he
already is, Counselor.  Watch your tread."

"Yes, Your Honor."
There was a brief silence while Clifton failed to recognise he could
continue, albeit with a caution.  Only upon seeing the raised eyebrows of
the judge did he realise.  Clearing his throat, he started up again.
"Dr. Ross, you signed the PCA machine from the ER's Clinic rather than
Genetics because they wouldn't let you have one, am I right?"

"Yes."

"So, really you shouldn't have had a PCA at all, should you?"

"Not really, no."

"But wait a minute.  Was it YOU who signed it out of the clinic?"

"I, uh, sorry?"  Doug sensed a moment of panic.  What was he implying and
why wasn't he doing what the judge asked for Christ's sake??

"Did you sign out the PCA machine, or did someone else, Dr. Ross?"

Doug swallowed.
"Someone else did."

"Who would that be, Doctor?"

"Someone who worked for the clinic."

"I'm sorry, I need a name."

"Carol Hathaway."
The impassive look on Carol's face slipped oh so slightly into one of
disbelief, shame and despair, and yet all the emotions flicked over her face
in a matter of seconds.  Only Doug noticed it.  He knew her face so well, he
couldn't miss it and it felt like something inside him had stamped on his
gut.

"So, Nurse Hathaway stole the PCA machine from the clinic and then it was
used to kill a child."

"OBJECTION!"  The crowd of lawyers didn't need to say anything, as Judge
Lomak merely gave DeVann a death stare and ordered the court reporter and
jury to ignore the last question.

"You were not responsible for the fact that the PCA machine was present, am
I correct Dr. Ross?"

"No.  I told Joi, Mrs. Abbott that I would get one for her son.  I was
responsible for it."

"But you didn't sign it out, Dr. Ross!  In the paperwork, Nurse Hathaway had
complete responsibility for what the machine was used for!  NOT you!"

Doug pleaded at Clifton with his eyes.  Don't do this, please don't do this,
you sorry son of a bitch.  Don't get her into trouble.  I've done enough
damage by myself, I don't need you helping me.  He looked at Carol, but she
was staring at her lap, whispering to Mark, who was studying her and
murmuring back.  As he watched, Mark took one of her hands in his own.

"Further more, Dr. Ross, you said you didn't want to visit the Abbott's home
the night before Ricky died.  Tell me again why you decided you would?"

"Because I wanted to help Joi with the PCA and I didn't want Ricky to hurt."

"Are you sure?  This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that when
Nurse Hathaway took the phone call from Mrs. Abbott, she agreed to stopping
by with you, but not telling you in advance?"

"No.  It doesn't have anything to do with that."

Clifton suddenly changed tack.
"You and Nurse Hathaway are in a romantic relationship, aren't you?"

Feeling like his mind was swinging round a corner like a NASCAR racer, he
nodded.

"Yes."

"And knowing that your girlfriend, Nurse Hathaway, wouldn't be with you that
night because she was spending it with a dying little boy was NOT the thing
to change your mind."

Doug stared hard at his lawyer.  Why, out of all the other scumbag lawyers,
did he have to pick this guy?  He sat in stony silence, staring him out and
trying to think of an answer that wouldn't implicate Carol even more and yet
still be the truth.  Unfortunately, as he sat there, it wasn't until too
late that he realised what his silence meant to everyone in that courtroom.

"It was a factor.  But I'd been treating Ricky for two weeks.  Even if Nurse
Hathaway hadn't been there, I might have gone anyway."

"Might?  But surely that suggests that there's a possibility you wouldn't
have gone at all, had Nurse Hathaway not cajoled you.  If that is true, then
Ricky Abbott might have died of natural causes.  Maybe we should be trying
Ms. Hathaway too?"

"No.  NO, dammit.  Stop trying to drag everyone else into this, asshole!!  I
gave Joi the code, Not Carol, Mark, or anyone else!  Why can't you just
accept that and try and get me the most lenient sentence possible instead of
implicating everyone I care about?"  Judge Lomak bashed his gavel so hard
the top nearly came off.

"Dr. Ross!!  If I have one more outburst from you, you will not only be
sentenced for reckless homicide, but I will tack on more time for being in
contempt!  You chose your lawyer, now sit down and shut UP!"

"I have no further questions, Your Honor."

"Court will recess for fifteen minutes.  Reconvene at..." he looked at his
watch, then squinted at the clock on the wall, "11.35am."  He shuffled out
of the room as Doug waited for the signal to return to his place behind the
desk.  But when he got the word that he could step down, instead of heading
back to his seat, he walked out of the door to his left.  He needed some
fresh air.  Inside the courtroom the air was stagnant, heavy with humidity
and whispered words, condensation and pain.  Bruised souls and egos.  Out
here, it was a virtual escape where he could pretend for the meantime that
none of this was happening.  Standing, looking up at the curved dome of the
courthouse ceiling, he wondered whether to go back or to just stay here,
where he world remained complete instead of the fragments it lay in inside.
But the words Carol had yelled at him that night in the snow rang though his
brain like a fire alarm.  He always ran from everything.  The buck stops
here.  Glancing at his watch, he took one last look up at the dome, painted
to look like a historic feat of architecture, not a 1970's shell, and
searched for the men's bathroom.

to be continued