Every Street - chapter 6.  All chapters can be found at
http://www.geocities.com/er_trig/triggersfics.html



Back in the courtroom, all that awaited Doug were closing speeches and a
verdict.  The jury, unreadable in their expressions and body language, had
resumed their places and looked neutrally at each other or around the
courtroom at the architecture.  Doug sat down, having thrown most of his
meal into a trashcan outside.  Clifton sat beside him, silent for once and
still.  No notes lay before him, no legal pad paper and no pen.  He looked
calm and contained, and he nodded hello to Doug when he returned.  At the
prosecution table, the legal team tapped away at laptops, or conversed
quietly with their client.  Noticing movement from the corner of his eye,
behind the prosecution table, Doug saw Joi looking at him.  Mouthing,
"Sorry," with damp eyes, she looked away again at her ex-husband.  He nodded
in a gesture to show he didn't hold any grudge against her, and faced the
front again as His Honor took his place once more, ready for the closing
speeches of the case.

"Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury.  During these past few days,
you have heard evidence against a doctor who helped his patient to die.
This controversial case, thankfully free from media hype, has many twists to
it, and many moral judgements have been made.  The denfence has tried to
point out that Dr. Ross is not to blame for his actions, and that instead
the responsibility for the crime lies with other people.  The defence has
also clearly stated again and again for our tired ears that Dr. Ross is a
good doctor.  What we must question is the meaning of 'good'.  Does killing
another human being qualify him as 'good'? His actions in the past have been
reckless - this terrible, mindless act was not the first time Dr. Ross has
been known to step out of line.  His superiors and colleagues have testified
to that.  Indeed, it seems that while his actions may be impulsive, they are
not entirely unplanned.  Dr. Ross went to some lengths to obtain the PCA
machine used to kill Ricky Abbott, and the medication as well.  He spent the
night at the Abbott household, possibly considering his options with this
little boy.  The next morning, he got up and issued the fatal code to the
machine so that the boy's mother was able to give him a lethal overdose.  No
matter how you look at this case, it cannot be denied that Dr. Ross was the
key to the door of death for a nine-year-old boy.  And at this moment in
time, such homicide is illegal in every country on Earth.  Not one state in
the whole world accepts euthanasia, and least of all the United States of
America.  I ask you to remember that when you are making your decision,
ladies and gentlemen.  Not one."

"The prosecution has tried incessantly to prove to you over the last few
days, ladies and gentlemen, that my client is guilty of reckless homicide.
I have begged and pleaded to differ.  How can we convict one man for the
death of a little boy when it is clear from our evidence that so many are to
blame?  May I remind you of Nurse Hathaway.  Dr. Ross's partner in life and
in crime.  Had it not been for her guilt trip, Dr. Ross may never have gone
to that house that night.  Had it not been for the machine she stole from
the hospital, then there would have been no over-ride code to give to
anyone.  I draw your attention to Mrs. Abbott too.  The woman who actually
entered the code and issued enough painkiller to kill her son in 15 minutes,
with full knowledge and understanding of her actions.  And yet while she
killed Ricky, who had suffered for the duration of his life with a crippling
disease, she told him she loved him.  Her actions were for the benefit of
her child.  Yes, benefit.  We need only to return to testimony given by an
ER attending doctor to know that such measures are not rare in medicine.  It
may happen more than we think.  If we are not in that position, how can we
possibly decide if it is right or wrong?  Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to
refer to all the evidence given when you make your choice.  This is a man
who has always put his patients' best interests at heart.  Sure, sometimes
he goes against the book, but it has never been for the wrong reasons.  He
cares about his patients, and he cared about Ricky Abbott.  He acted out of
concern and thought for what Ricky was going through, and if I was a kid, I
know I'd want him as my doctor."

Sitting outside the courtroom on the cold marble steps, Doug cleared his
mind and watched people walk past.  Some were faces he recognised from the
courtroom, people who had come to watch.  Ricky's grandparents sat on a
bench nearby, whispering between themselves.  Lawyers from this case and
others were dotted around, some laughing by a water cooler.  A cleaner stood
in the corner, sweeping the same patch of floor over and over. Doug watched
the sweeping action of the mop head swing back, flick a few drops of water
onto the shining surface, then swing down through a perfect arc, slapping
the floor at exactly halfway, brushing a puddle of water forwards, like a
car tyre screaming through rainwater.  It launched into the air again,
pausing briefly at the top of the sweep and flinging more droplets through
the air and onto the cream coloured wall, before beginning the descent once
more. He stayed transfixed for as long as he could, trying not to think
about juries, verdicts, cell walls.  Out of a door to his left, another
courtroom emptied of the few people inside.  What looked like a family, with
a teenage boy in a suit, his two parents and a younger sister came out, the
father talking to his son quietly as they looked towards a smaller family of
a mom and her son, and a toddler who was running after a dropped toy.  'Kids
probably got in a fight', Doug thought.  Trouble was now you couldn't have a
fight without being sued for assault - no more settling arguments with fists
in playgrounds.  Maybe that's where lawyers recruited their clients from
now - he could just picture bespectacled, nerdy attorneys standing around
children's playgrounds, waiting for a fight to break out before issuing
small business cards, and claims of thousands of dollars compensation.

The toddler, eagerly chasing his toy, tripped over the step in front of
Doug, snapping him out of his reverie.  Doug leant forward, helping the
child up, before he ran off again.

"Thanks, " said the mother, who grabbed her child by the arm and yanked it
in the direction of the door.  Doug watched them go.  He checked his watch.
He'd been sitting there for about an hour now, and his legs were cramping.
Getting up, he wandered back towards the courtroom with his hands in his
pockets.  Rain had started to fall outside, he noticed though the window.
Inside the courtroom, a couple of people had remained in their seats,
hopeful of a quick verdict.  He noticed one of the prosecution team had the
nerve to be playing solitaire on his laptop.  Clifton was nowhere to be
seen.  Mark was gone too, but Doug could have sworn he'd just seen Carol
sitting in her seat behind his table...

"Doug.  Just wishing you the best for the verdict.  You know, we can't take
you back at County, but if the verdict is good I can give you my
recommendation."

"Thanks, Donald.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed."

"We all are."

Doug forced a smile and moved past him, eager to see if it was Carol he had
seen.  Yes, it was.  She was sat by herself, looking down at her lap.  He
walked up behind her, trying to see if she was okay.  It reminded him of her
almost-wedding to John Taglieri years ago, when he had found her in the
church crying by herself.  Then he could be of some comfort to her.  Now it
was a different story.

"Carol."

She nodded at him as he sat down beside her.  Leaning forward, resting his
elbows on his knees he could see that she wasn't crying.  Her eyes were dry.
But they were still sad.  He didn't know what to say.  Previously, he'd
always hit on the right joke, or the right few words to make her smile.  But
he couldn't do that anymore, and especially not today.  He looked down at
his own feet, a view he had favoured today over others.  And although he
didn't say anything and neither did she, he could sense a lack of anger in
the air.  At that moment, the sudden noise of feet on the wood floor pulled
his head up and he watched the jury file into their positions.  He looked at
the judge.  This was it.  Had it been particularly quick? Was that a good or
bad sign?  No-one was going to help him now.  Preparing to return to his
seat, he shifted his weight forward, but the sudden feel of flesh on flesh
stopped him.

"Good luck," Carol said, looking into his eyes as she held onto his hand
tightly.  He gripped hers back as tight as he could, then let go to resume
his place at the defendant's table.

"Member of the jury, have you reached a verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor."

"What find you?"

Doug breathed in then out slowly, following the trail of a small black ant
on the floor.

"In the case of Ross versus the United States of America, we find the
defendant guilty of reckless homicide."

It felt as if the room exploded around Doug.  There was no noise at all, no
one said a word but it was as if he had slipped into a vacuum, an implosion
of the world in towards him as everything closed up and he was sucked into a
tiny mass.  Everything spun as he sat there, unmoving and steady in his
seat.  Beside him, DeVann shook his head, like his team had just lost a home
game.    The shuffling and sighing of the audience came to a stop as the
Foreman spoke up again.

"Your Honor.  The Jury has a request.  We felt that although the defendant
was guilty, there were mitigating circumstances, and we would like to ask
you to consider the most lenient sentence possible when sentencing the
defendant."

The judge nodded.
"Alright," he scanned the papers in front of him slowly, re-reading notes
and information collected during the trial.  He took his time, and Doug felt
like he was losing hours as he sat in his shell, shockwaves rattling through
him like little earthquakes.  "Dr. Ross..." Doug looked up at the judge, his
gaze steady and blank, not betraying the black hole inside him.
"...you have committed a crime that is illegal in this country and you will
be punished for it.  But you have also been proven as a doctor who acts in
the best interests of those he treats, in a case that is highly
controversial.  Because of this, and because I cannot deny the involvement
of other parties, I am sentencing you to three years, suspended, and the
removal of your medical license by the American Medical Association.  I am
also recommending that Dr. Mark Greene and Nurse Carol Hathaway are reviewed
by the AMA board."  He banged his gavel once, collected all his papers in a
messy heap and left his stage.

In his seat, it seemed as if suddenly the opposite was happening - his world
was blown outward again, exploding in a perfect sphere of voices, laughing,
and hope.  He was a free man.  But he was no longer a doctor.

to be continued