Every Street, Chapter 5
(Doug goes to court over the Ricky Abbott case, which has consequences
no-one ever considered)

-see previous chapters for notes
(http://www.geocities.com/er_trig/triggersfics.html)-

--Previously: Doug took the stand--



Inside the court, DeVann sat at his desk, murmuring some more and filling
more pages with what seemed to be random assortments of letters, arranged in
patterns on the paper. His ballpoint was running out, and he stopped
intermittently to shake it violently, hoping to encourage more ink into the
cartridge, as if by magic. Doug stood by the heavy doorframe and watched the
series of actions. Write for thirty seconds. Stop to shake pen. Wipe mouth
with back of hand. Say something incomprehensible. Start writing again. The
cycle kept repeating. He hated the shambolic figure, who couldn't even get a
pen to work. But he had made the selection and now he had to pay for it.
Knowing little about law, he tried to estimate how long he would be sent own
for. Homicide charges almost always got the defendant life, or so he picked
up from gossip around the admit desk. Reckless homicide, well that hardly
made it sound any better, so he'd probably lose parole for that. His license
was going too, so he could never even wimp out and try to work in the prison
medical unit. Standing there, contemplating his grim future, his mind turned
to what he might have done to the future of others. He knew Carol would be
the first witness in his defence. How could DeVann possibly afford to ignore
her as a get-out clause now? And he had no power to stop it. He stood in
that position by the door for the rest of the remaining time he had, until a
bell sounded and the judge returned. Doug made his way back to his seat,
with the classic 'Let's Face The Music And Dance' ironically playing over
and over in his mind, taunting him.

"Prosecution. Have you any further witnesses?"

"No, Your Honour."

Judge Lomak grunted and marked something down on a piece of paper in front
of him. Still looking at the paper, he said, "Defence? Call your first
witness."

DeVann stood in a strange, half-couched type way, hovering over his chair.

"Defence calls Miss Carol Hathaway."

"HATHAWAY!" The court marshal boomed out of the doors. Seconds later, Carol
crossed the courtroom, brushing strands of hair behind one ear as she
stepped up and took the vows. Settling in her seat, she refused to look at
anyone other than the lawyer in front of her, and if not that then the
judge's podium next to her.

"State your name and position for the record, please."

"Carol Hathaway, R.N., Nurse Manager at County General ER."

"You have been working with Dr. Ross for some time now, correct?"

"Yes. About ten years."

"In the same department?"

"Yes."

"You'd say Dr. Ross was a good doctor, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"And are you a good nurse, Miss Hathaway?"

"I try my best."

"You established a walk-in clinic at the County Emergency Room, right?"

"Yes."

"Tell us a bit about it."

"It's a clinic that runs once a week, where people who want flu shots,
check-ups or advice can come without taking up time that could be used to
treat more critical patients."

"Good...good," DeVann nodded, as if he had been testing her and she'd just
given a right answer. "The clinic was funded by...?"

"The hospital and generous gifts from the Carter Foundation."

"I see...so was it the gifts or the hospital that provided a PCA machine?"

"The hospital provided it."

Changing tack, DeVann asked, "On February 15th, when you took a call from
Joi Abbott, did you tell her that you would go and see her and Ricky at
home?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell her that Dr. Ross would come and see them at home?"

"Yes I did."

"Why exactly was Mrs. Abbott calling you?"

"She called the ER because Ricky was in a lot of pain and she couldn't
understand how to work the PCA. She needed someone to show her."

"So you asked Dr. Ross to go with you to the Abbott home."

"Yes."

"You knew how to work the PCA, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"So why did you need Dr. Ross to come?"

"I...he was Ricky's doctor and he had explained to Joi how to use it
previously. I didn't feel that, as a nurse, it was my place to use the
machine."

"But surely, if that is the case, why did the hospital provide you with one
for the clinic you ran, without the aid of doctors? So let me ask you again.
Why did you need Dr. Ross to come with you to the Abbott's house that night,
particularly when he had already stated that he didn't want to go?"

For the first time on the stand, Carol glanced at Doug. He met her eyes and
read beyond the anger and despair to a part in her soul that was calling for
help, and only he could ever save her. In an instant he hated himself for
bringing her so much pain, from when they started dating all those years
ago, when he dumped her to pursue other women, when he turned up at her
engagement party, when he made fun of her old boyfriend, when he became
angry with her for kissing another man when he had been running around with
multiple women only a year before. And now this.

"Miss Hathaway, please answer the question."

"I thought that, as Ricky's doctor, he should be there too. And...I...am in
a long-term relationship with Dr. Ross. I wanted his moral support."

"So you forced him to go with you?"

"No, I didn't. I told him that Joi was having trouble with the PCA and he
said he didn't want to go, so I said I was going to go anyway and that I'd
see him tomorrow."

"So you didn't force him to go with you...but perhaps there was a slight
guilt trip going on?"

"Objection!" boomed the prosecution, before Carol had a chance to even
contemplate answering.

"Members of the jury, please ignore that last question. Counsellor..."

DeVann nodded and started again.
"Because of your relationship with Dr. Ross, would you say that you placed
any...personal emphasis on him joining you that night?"

"No..."

"But you said to him that you wouldn't see him that night - am I correct in
saying you live together?"

"We were, yes."

"So by saying that you would be away that night, you implied that you
wouldn't come home."

"Yes. Because I was going to be at the Abbott's house."

"And how do you think that would make Dr. Ross feel, if he knew you were
going to be caring for one of his patients all night while he sat home
alone, doing nothing?"

"Objection, speculation on the defendant's feelings, Your Honor."

"Sustained. Rephrase the question, Counsellor."

"How would you have felt if you had been in Dr. Ross's position, Miss
Hathaway?"

"I would have felt guilty, and lonely."

"Thank you. Prosecution's witness."

The lawyer strode back to his seat next to Doug, who was concentrating hard
on the table in front of him, rubbing his chin with one hand.

"You've known and worked with Dr. Ross for ten years, Miss Hathaway?"

"Yes."

"Has he ever done anything like this before?"

"No...nothing this serious."

"But you can confirm the evidence of the other witnesses that his behaviour
at time has been somewhat reckless?"

"Yes."

"Nurse Hathaway, were you aware that Dr. Ross had given Mrs. Abbott the
override code to the PCA machine?"

"No, not until Ricky was brought into the ER in full arrest."

"So you weren't there when the lethal dosage was administered?"

"No."

DeVann suddenly had a scrawling attack and looked just about ready to burst.
Excitedly, he leant over and whispered in Doug's ear.
"No-one else was there but you and Joi, right? If we can get her to avoid
the admission that you gave her the code, then we have no evidence to say
you did it!"

Doug gazed at the man sitting beside him in amazement and wonder. It was
like this guy was on some sort of roller coaster, where at the top was a
brilliant idea, and at the dip was a huge, gaping black hole of stupidity.

"I already said I did it, Clifton. And how exactly would you get Joi to lie
on the stand?"

"Oh." That idea crushed, he returned to listening to the testimony. But he
was too late, and had missed the tail end of it.

"Thank you, Miss Hathaway, you may step down now."

"Thank you." She almost whispered it back to the judge, and descended from t
he raised platform on which the witness box sat. Walking forcefully, with
her head held high, she left the room, refusing to meet anyone's looks.
Outside, Doug was pretty sure Mark was waiting for her and that they would
return shortly. Maybe they were holding a 'Losing Your Medical License'
party, and he hadn't been invited.

As his lawyer called for Joi Abbott to give her evidence, Doug scanned the
list of witnesses speaking, supposedly, in favour of him. Unable to decipher
the handwriting initially, he was disappointed to see that Clifton had only
managed three. Three whole people. And he was already on the second. Who was
the third? The mess of cursive letters that all ran into each other like
some sort of alphabetic pile up on the legal pad betrayed no clue as to who
it was going to be, until he saw another piece of paper entitled 'Dr. Donald
Anspaugh', and a list of questions written below it. Anspaugh? He was
testifying for him? What was that about??

"Mrs. Abbott, when you called the County General Emergency Room on February
15th, what exactly was the purpose of your call?"

Joi looked decidedly nervous. She had seemed more peaceful after Ricky had
died but now she was on edge, as if tentatively hanging on the brink of
something.

"Ricky was in a lot of pain, and I couldn't get the machine to work. I
wanted someone to show me how to work it again."

"Who did you have in mind for this task?"

"Well, Dr. Ross. He had been treating Ricky, and he'd given us the PCA
machine, so I thought maybe he could help."

"But you didn't mind when Nurse Hathaway came without Dr. Ross?"

"No. She'd treated Ricky, and me, before too. I was just happy that someone
could help me make Ricky feel better."

"So when Dr. Ross did turn up, what did you think?"

"I...I don't really recall. I was sitting with Ricky. I think I was glad,
because, well, no offence to Nurse Hathaway, but he was a doctor and I
thought maybe he could help Ricky some more..."

"When you say, 'help Ricky some more', what exactly are you referring to,
Mrs. Abbott?"

"In the morning," Joi looked at Doug, and her eyes were wet, "in the morning
I asked Dr. Ross if he could help Ricky to stop feeling anymore pain."

There was a ripple of conversation around the courtroom.

"So, you asked Dr. Ross, a fine ER pediatrician, to practice euthanasia on
your little boy." DeVann boomed; he'd obviously seen one too many courtroom
drama films.

Joi let a tear slide down her cheek as she gazed at Doug, answering the
question, "Yes."

"Can you tell us what happened after you asked him?"

"I...he didn't say anything, and he went downstairs. I thought he had
refused my request, and I started crying when I heard the front door close,
but then he came back up to us. He wrote down four numbers on a piece of
paper and told me that it was the over-ride code for the machine so I could
give Ricky as much painkiller as he needed. He asked me if I was sure I
wanted to do this and I told him I was, I didn't want to watch my son in
pain anymore." More tears rolled down her face, leaving tracks and trails,
showing the pattern of her grief for her son and for the career of the
doctor who had listened to her and cared.

"Dr. Ross gave you these numbers, and then what did you do?"

"He went to work and I put the code in the machine and gave Ricky as much
medicine as I could...I told him," she paused to wipe her nose with a
Kleenex, "that he wouldn't hurt anymore, and that I loved him. Then he
stopped breathing and I panicked so I called 911..."

"And that's when Ricky's father arrived and you went to the County Emergency
Room, right?"

"Yes."

"So, just recapping on what you have said..."

"Objection!! Summarisation should be kept until closing!"

"Sustained."

Flustered, DeVann shuffled his paper pile, dropping one but failing to
notice."No further questions."

He returned to his seat, leaving his page of notes on the floor. The
assistant district attorney took advantage of this and picked it up, handing
it back to his incompetent opposition. Several members of the audience
laughed behind their hands, and Clifton even had the dignity to blush. But
after handing back the paper, the lawyer returned to his seat and settled
down comfortably.

"The prosecution has no questions, Your Honor."

"What?!" whispered Clifton, half to himself and half to Doug. "Oh man, oh
man. I haven't prepared for the next witness...oh boy..."

"Would the defence call their next witness sometime today please?"

"Uh, Your Honor, the defence would like to request a ten minute recess."

The big judge considered this, eventually looking at his watch and saying,"I could do with a snack. Court will reconvene in ten minutes."

For the duration of the recess, Doug sat next to his lawyer and watched him
scribble hastily thought up questions under Anspaugh's name. This was
ridiculous he knew, but he had gone past the point of no return a long time
ago. Turning around, he noticed that Carol and Mark weren't anywhere to be
seen - had they ever returned after Carol's testimony, or were they just
taking advantage of the break? Turning back to face front again, he watched
Judge Lomak ascend the steps to his platform and position high above
everyone. He watched Dr. Donald Anspaugh walk to his place on the witness
stand. He watched DeVann rise from his seat and take his place in front of
his witness, but all he heard was the sound of Carol's breathing behind him.
Did she want him to go to jail? Surely that's what she should want, for
betraying her more than anything else. Or did she want him to stay free, so
the future charges against her would be lessened? He loved her with all his
heart, like he had never loved anyone before, but he couldn't foresee a
future for their relationship after what he had done. They were already
living apart - what hope did they ever have of remaining a couple if he was
locked away? Desperately clawing at the edges of the depression pit, he
shifted his attention to try and concentrate on what Anspaugh was saying,
with the thought ever present in his mind - would these be his last few
hours of freedom?

"I am not condoning Dr. Ross' behaviour, but I believe that he has always
had his patients' best interests at heart."

"So is his supposed crime forgivable?"

"Objection! That is for the jury to decide, surely?!"

"Hypothetically I'm talking, Your Honour."

"Objection over-ruled."

"In my eyes I've forgiven Dr. Ross for a lot of things, and if it was up to
me I would forgive him for this as well. But he would have to be watched
more carefully in future, his patients would have to be monitored."

"Ummm..." DeVann stumbled over his next question. He'd lost a sheet of
paper. Doug saw it, on the floor by the chair next to him. And although he
wanted to help, something in him gave up and he didn't mention it as he
watched his attorney flounder by the platform.

"Uh. The defence rests, Your Honor."

As soon as he had said it, he turned around and saw the paper on the floor.
Turning back to the judge to ask if he could continue, he was beaten by the
heavy man to it.

"No, Counsellor, you know the rules. You've closed your case, now sit back
down. I'm not sure I've seen such a shambolic attempt at practicing law ever
before. Does the prosecution have any further questions?"

"No, Your Honor, we believe that Dr. Anspaugh has no further evidence useful
to ourselves."

"Okay. Witness dismissed. We'll break for lunch and reconvene at 2pm." He
banged his gavel and lurched off once again.

Grateful for the break, Doug left the courthouse altogether. He wasn't meant
to, and he knew it. But he needed the air and a change of scenery albeit
brief. He stood on the street outside the building, trying to ignore the
cold breeze that blew around him, little sharp daggers of icy air poking and
prodding and demanding an answer. Standing there, he knew his future was not
in Chicago, not in the cold, windy city. He studied his feet, and looked up
as a truck roared past. Starting a slow walk to the nearest food vendor, he
heard steps behind him and felt Mark fall into step beside him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

After some moments of silence, their slow footsteps speaking for them, Mark
said to the air in front of him, "I just wanted to say good luck for the
verdict."

"Huh. Yeah, right." Doug stopped at the burger bar and took some notes out
of his pocket.

"No, Doug. You don't understand, none of us want you to go. We didn't want
this to happen."

"It's not your problem, Mark. I'm going, whatever the verdict is, you know
that."

"Leaving town?"

"Yes."

He ordered a plain burger, handed over his change and started the walk back
to the courthouse. Mark followed him, almost running in a half-gait
position, trying to get him to stop and listen.

"Are you sure you really want to leave Chicago, Doug?"

"What would I do here, Mark? Sit around, get fat and crazy, live of my
unemployment cheques? Wind up in the ER in thirty years time with bedsores
because I'm too big to get out of the bed, heart failure because I can't
afford proper food, lacerations where I've been cutting myself so that I can
die and never have to deal with another day? I don't think so. Prison in
Florida or Carolina, somewhere where the sun shines and I can get a good
view from my cell window."

Unable to say anything in response, Mark studied Doug's face. The anger and
pain he recognised were all present but there was a hint of something else.
A desperation, a fear maybe, in his eyes. Fury that wasn't impenetrable, so
solid was its core, lined his face and the lines around his eyes that used
to come from laughing were there as a mark of anguish. His friend was
sinking, and he didn't want to swim.



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©Triggersaurus 2001