An Accidental Life (36 page)

39

The next morning in the courtroom
on Thursday, Peter called the receptionist Melanie Wright to the stand. She’d refused to cooperate, refused to give a sworn statement, so Peter had her subpoenaed. She was frightened, she’d said. Didn’t want to lose her job. Things would be different when she was on the stand, though, he knew, unless she chose to take the Fifth.

He glanced at Charles Vicari when the bailiff called Melanie’s name and caught his reaction, the startled look just before Vicari twisted around to watch the witness arrive. When the door opened and she came in with the bailiff, he grabbed Vince McConnell’s coat sleeve and they began a
soto voce
conference.

Melanie gave Peter a furious look as she swung through the railing gate and past the prosecution table, heading for the witness stand. He’d have to work for every answer he could pull from her, he knew.

Across the aisle Vince shook loose his client, and stood. “Permission to approach the bench, Your Honor?”

“Come on up.”

Peter and Dooney joined him. They all huddled around the side of the bench opposite the witness stand. Vince spoke first.

He jerked his chin toward the witness. “This young woman is an employee of the Alpha Women’s Clinic, Your Honor. The defense objects; we received no notice that she’d be taking the stand.”

Peter turned from Vince to Morrow. “The witness has been on the list for months, Judge.”

Vince: “We’ve got nothing, Your Honor. No statement, or suggestion that Miss Wright would testify has ever been turned over to us in discovery. This is outrageous.” Vince crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever happened to full disclosure?”

“We’ve got nothing to turn over,” Peter said, spreading his hands. “Miss Wright has refused to provide a formal statement.” Mac had only one conversation with Melanie Wright. He’d tried to get her to talk a few more times, but each time she’d refused. No cooperation.

Morrow turned to Vince. His tone was dry. “If she’s been on the list all along, Counsel, you’ve no one to blame but yourself for the hubris.”

Vince leaned in toward the judge, lowering his voice. Peter and Dooney did the same. “There must . . . I repeat, must . . . be some boundaries placed on this witness’s testimony, Your Honor. Our concern is patient privacy rights. As the clinic receptionist, Miss Wright is the first person anyone meets when they walk in for help. And in the course of her employment, she has access to every patient’s file.”

Frowning, Judge Morrow glanced over the galley and rose. “Let’s continue this in chambers.” He stood, signaled Michelene, and announced that court would take a brief recess. A low, collective groan rose from the gallery.

In chambers, Judge Morrow motioned for them to take a seat at the conference table.

Seconds passed, and then Vince glanced at Peter. “I’ll take a continuing objection on this one, Peter. And you can be sure we’ll check this out.”

“Go right ahead.”

“I don’t imagine she’ll be employed by the clinic much longer.”

“You may object for the record, but the defense will not retaliate against a witness who’s been subpoenaed and is required to testify under oath in my court,” the judge snapped, walking over to the table and sitting down. He sat at the end, facing Peter. Holding up one hand, Morrow looked at Michelene. “We’re off the record here.”

She nodded.

Peter chewed his bottom lip, pondering the situation. What was the defense so worried about? He decided that if there was time, he might rethink some of his questions for the witness.

The judge leaned back and stretched one arm flat on the table before him, looking at Vince. “Am I making myself clear? No retaliation; not against any witness in my courtroom. Not without cause separate and apart from giving testimony in this case. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

This must have happened before. It had to be that the receptionist could testify that this had happened before at the clinic.

Morrow’s narrowed eyes roved over Peter and he snapped to. The judge’s eyes moved on to Dooney, and then again back to Peter. “You’re aware of course of the State’s legal duty to turn over to Mr. McConnell here any exculpatory evidence in your possession, information you may have that could benefit or assist the defense in any way.”

“Yes, Your Honor, and there is none. For one thing, Miss Wright is a hostile witness for the State. We had to subpoena her to testify, and she’s refused all along to give any statement.” And there was certainly nothing in what she’d told Mac that would
help
the defense.

The judge nodded and turned to Vince. “You mentioned placing limits on this testimony? What do you have in mind?” Morrow’s heavy lids dropped like shades pulled halfway down as he looked at Vince, waiting.

Vince straightened under the scrutiny. “We’re concerned about patient privacy rights, Your Honor.” He placed his hands flat before him on the table, spreading his fingers, studying them.

Peter spoke up. “We’re aware of the privacy concerns, Your Honor. But the defense has the opportunity to object at any time, and they have not objected on that basis during Miss Sonsten’s testimony, nor with respect to any of the other employees on the witness list that may be called—the part-time nurse, the cleaning woman.”

Vince interrupted. “Miss Wright is different. Miss Wright sits in the reception room all day long chatting with patients while they’re waiting. She knows their names. She knows more about most patients than are kept in their records—private confidences—and those women are entitled to their privacy. As you know, Judge, patients’ privacy rights are protected by state and federal law and even the slightest invasion will subject the clinic to liability. Not to mention frightening away the very young women the clinic supports.”

Morrow nodded, as Peter had expected.

“And in addition, we’ve got the press out there.”

“Why wasn’t this issue addressed pre-trial?”

Vince opened his mouth and closed it again. He’d had a copy of the potential witnesses for many months and Melanie Wright’s name had been on it, along with all other employees in the clinic, with the exception of Eileen Broussard.

“There were one hundred, twenty-five names on the State’s list, Your Honor,” Vince said. “This particular employee is never involved in cases—and she wasn’t involved in this one. We had no reason to believe that she’d be called.”

Morrow turned to Peter, reinforcing the point. “You understand the gravity of the situation, Counsel—patient privacy rights?”

“Yes, Judge.” But while he had the receptionist on the stand he hoped to pry from her any information she might have on past born-alive infants at the clinic. She’d been unwilling to go that far with Mac, but he’d sensed that she wasn’t surprised by what had happened to Glory Lynn Chasson’s infant. She knew something more, he was convinced.

Judge Morrow turned his eyes to Vince. “I’m inclined to let the witness testify and address problems if and when they arise.” Then he swung his eyes to Peter. “But I don’t like tricks in my courtroom, either, Mr. Jacobs. You will not ask the witness to discuss or otherwise identify any patient at the clinic, at any time, other than Miss Chasson.”

“Yes, Judge.”

Before Peter could say anything, Morrow held up his hand. “If I hear one question from you or Miss Dorothea in breach of my order”—his eyes strayed to Dooney, then back to Peter and his hand cut through the air like a knife—“then I will hold you both in contempt.”

The room was silent as he looked from Peter to Dooney. “Is that clear?”

“Clear, Your Honor,” Peter said. Dooney echoed him.

“Good.” With a huff, he turned to Michelene. “We’re going on record now.” Peter, Dooney, and Vince sat in silence as he stated for the record the limitations he’d placed on the State’s questions and the witness’s testimony in the case. And, he added the warning of contempt charges against both Peter and Dooney if the warning was violated.

Back in the courtroom, Peter heard Vince arguing with Charles Vicari over the results of the meeting in chambers. Vince and his client continued arguing even after the judge arrived and was seated. Melanie was sworn in and sat in the witness chair looking bored. Morrow slammed down the gavel and told McConnell and the defendant to quiet down.

Once they got started, Melanie Wright was clear and concise in her answers. Peter led her through the initial questions about her position in the clinic, what she’d been doing on the afternoon of Glory Lynn Chasson’s procedure, letting her set the pace. And then, at last, as they came to her testimony about that night, he led her into it slowly, gradually pulling from her the corroboration he needed for Clara Sonsten’s testimony.

In a strong, clear voice, she told how she’d come into the procedure room in the back of the clinic, planning to set it up for use in the morning. This was her routine before she left the office at night, she testified. And then she told of finding Clara Sonsten, sitting in the room, holding the infant.

“She had the fetus wrapped in one of the blue towels. She was sitting on a chair near the bed, holding it in her arms.” Her eyes slid to the defendant and quickly away. “The light was off when I went in there. I saw them when I turned it on.”

From the corners of his eyes, Peter saw Charles Vicari grab his lawyer’s arm, pulling. Vince pushed him away.

“Did the infant show signs of life when you saw him in Miss Sonsten’s arms?”

“It was difficult to see. She had the towel wrapped around him.” Her eyes faded to the left, toward the jury box. “Like I said, it was all covered up, and she held it down, like this . . .” She demonstrated, cradling her arms and lowering them, holding them toward her chest. “So I really couldn’t see.”

“Did you see movement?” She hesitated and he jumped on that. “Any movement of the arms, the legs.”

“Well. I thought I saw the legs moving a little while I talked to her.”

Peter moved close, looking down at her. “Did you or did you not see the infant move?”

She linked her hands in her lap and studied them. Peter waited, letting time impress its weight.

When she looked up, he saw it in her eyes. “Yes. I saw the fetus moving under the towel she’d used for a blanket. I bent down once and looked at him.” She shrugged. “Just curious, you know?”

Peter said nothing.

“His arms and legs moved a little bit. I could see that he was breathing. And his mouth, his lips would press together and push out, like they do. He did that a couple of times.”

“How did you know the infant was a boy?”

“Clara told me.”

“And you’re certain of what you’re telling this court. You’re certain the infant that Clara Sonsten held in that room was still breathing.”

Her eyes darted to the defendant, and away. “Yes. I’m certain.”

“Did you notice the time?”

“Yes. I was getting ready to leave, to go home, so I was aware of the time. It was a little past six forty-five when I left that night. And I left right after I saw Clara in the empty labor room.”

He looked at Melanie and it took every bit of control he had developed over the years not to push further with direct questions about other times, other infants. Melanie knew of other live-birth cases at the clinic, he was certain. But remembering the judge’s threat, he knew that if he went in that direction it would have to be subtle, with a hope that somehow she’d slip up and reveal what she knew.

“Miss Wright, tell us what happened the next morning, when you arrived at work. Did you run into Nurse Broussard that morning?”

“Yes.”

“What time was that?”

“Uhm . . . about nine thirty or so. I was getting some coffee in the break room and she walked in.”

“And did you tell her that you’d seen Clara with the infant in that labor room?”

“No.” She hesitated. “I didn’t tell her that.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. Sometimes they live awhile . . .”

“Objection!” Peter turned to find Vince flying toward the bench. He stretched his hand toward the judge. “Your Honor . . .”

“Objection sustained.” Judge Morrow’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Peter. With a glance at Melanie he said, “Watch yourself, Counsel.”

“Sorry, Your Honor.” Inside, he smiled.

As Peter watched Michelene erasing the statement he’d prayed for from the record, he also prayed the judge wouldn’t forget what he’d just heard . . . and the implications.

He walked back to the table. “Your witness,” he said to Vince.

Vince waved him away. With a look of disdain toward Melanie Wright, he said, “No questions for this witness.”

40

After lunch Peter called Dr. Mortimer
Stern to the stand.

Peter took him through the bona fides to establish the doctor’s expertise. Mortimer Stern was a licensed medical physician certified in the state of Louisiana, board certified in neonatology and pediatrics. He’d been practicing for thirty-seven years in New Orleans and named the hospitals in which he was currently admitted to practice in Jefferson and Orleans Parish, which included most of them. He also held a law degree from Tulane University. He’d never practiced law, nor had he ever taken the bar exam. But the degree qualified him to testify regarding the impact of law on medicine.