Custody of the State (44 page)

“And what exactly are those findings?” Harry Putnam asked, punching each word as if he were socking a blow-up clown.

“My findings are that Joshua's blood contained dangerous levels of ethylene glycol—a chemical ingredient of hydraulic brake fluid.”

“You're certain?”

“I am certain.”

Before resting, the prosecutor spent thirty minutes having Dr. Parker describe each place the staff at the hospital had looked for the missing blood sample, each person interviewed, and each attempt to unearth the misplaced evidence. “We are as upset as you are,” Dr. Parker intoned solemnly, “that we cannot find that sample. If it were found, then any expert in the world could verify the correctness of my findings.”

Putnam sat down. Bender did nothing, having now almost completely relinquished the courtroom to the district attorney. The battle was now between Putnam and Will.

As Will rose to cross-examine Parker he had one huge challenge. He had to get the pathologist to retreat from the certainty of his conclusions. And it had to be a substantial retreat. Anything less would not do.

The attorney also knew that he had only one line of attack against Dr. Parker. But if he overplayed his hand by going directly after Jason Bell Purdy, the judge would undoubtedly admonish him.

If, however, he didn't get Parker to feel the heat, the court would never see the light.

“Most blood tests—simple ones of the kind that you did here—take just a few days. Is this the case?”

“Give or take—that's true.”

“This one, however—this report—was not signed by you until weeks after the blood draw. Correct?”

“That is true. But it's not too remarkable—I believe we were understaffed and overworked at the time.”

“Now, you were visited by someone in regard to Mary Sue Fellows' case?”

“You mean Mr. Putnam and Ms. Bender?”

“No.”

“You mean the reporters?”

“No,” Will said. “I mean Jason Bell Purdy.”

“Yes—well, he is a longtime friend of Mary Sue's. He had heard of her problems with Social Services. Felt sorry for her…found out nothing could be done.”

“The timing of your blood-test report is interesting. It is dated the day after Jason Bell Purdy came to talk to you, right?”

“Coincidentally, that is true.”

“Was there an earlier blood-test result—one that was changed after Mr. Purdy met with you?”

Judge Trainer, almost uniformly impassive throughout the trial, was now almost aghast.

“Absolutely not!” Dr. Parker exclaimed. “How insane. Do you know what you are insinuating?”

“You were an investor in Eden Lake Resort—the development primarily owned by Jason Bell Purdy?”

Harry Putnam bounced up, sending a few pens and papers flying.

“No, Your Honor. Not in a million years…do I think this court will allow Mr. Chambers—who does not know, apparently, the rules of decorum of the courts in our State of Georgia—to besmirch the reputation of innocent people. Persons of high standing in not only our community, but our state. I think this is quite sad, for it really shows how desperately Mr. Chambers is trying to win this case, though knowing he has absolutely no defense.”

“Your Honor,” Will began slowly and cautiously, “I understand how fragile this line of questioning is. How careful I must be not to drag in unrelated issues. But there is an issue here of motivation—what motivated Dr. Parker to write the blood-test report the way he did. Please give me a limited opportunity to explore that.”

Judge Trainer was not pleased. Somehow this unusual case was starting to metamorphose—to mushroom out of control.

“Only
very limited
opportunity, counsel,” he said in a voice that bordered on scolding.

Will turned back to the witness.

“You were an investor in that project?”

“Yes. Along with dozens—maybe even hundreds—of others.”

“Yet you were special?”

“I don't follow you.”

“Mr. Purdy treated you differently.”

“I was listed along with all other creditors in his bankruptcy,” Dr. Parker replied. “How does that make me special?”

“Just this,” Will said. “Reaffirmation.”

“What?”

“The debt to you, though forgiven in bankruptcy, was later reaffirmed by Jason Bell Purdy. The other creditors received about twenty cents on the dollar—but you, Dr. Parker, because your debt was reaffirmed, were ultimately paid back one hundred cents on the dollar. I find that remarkable.”

“Not really. I believe that Mr. Purdy was simply appreciative of my having been one of the original investors—that's why I received the preference.”

“You did nothing else to gain the special bankruptcy privilege you just mentioned?”

“I'm not sure what you are driving at…” And with that Dr. Parker flexed his shoulders in an effort to relax.

“Your connection to the Eden Lake Resort. Your writing your lab report about Joshua Fellows—but only
after
a meeting with Jason Bell Purdy. And the ongoing criminal investigation into Delphi National Bank's missing money—money that folks are trying to trace, but to where? Where? These are all the things I'm driving at—”

Harry Putnam began shouting an objection, but what finally came out was only a sputtering, incomprehensible tumble of words, beginning with “fantasyland” and ending with “Barnum and Bailey.”

Will Chambers knew the moment. Each case had one—sometimes several. The linchpins. Sometimes they came through precise calculation. Sometimes they appeared suddenly—like some kind of natural wonder. But as a trial lawyer, Will knew how to recognize them.

“Your Honor, I would rather not go into this line of questioning. Investments gone bad. The Eden Lake financial collapse. Bank fraud—illegal loans—business partners who come to hospitals asking questions about child-abuse investigations. This is a sordid business—it really is. I would rather not scandalize the entire Delphi community with this kind of evidence.”

Then Will turned, not to the judge, but again to Dr. Parker—the witness—lest there be any mistake whose call this really was to make.

“So if Dr. Parker were to admit that his report may have been inaccurate, that the results were prone to invalidity—then of course this whole other line of questioning would be irrelevant. His motivation would not be material to the case. But as long as
he clings to his opinion that his report was absolutely accurate—well then…”

Judge Trainer could see the widening abyss—between a case with measured justice and a case that was on the verge of perhaps imploding the political structure of much of the State of Georgia. It was his job to determine which kind of case this would become.

And his ruling would determine that.

“Dr. Parker,” the judge said, addressing the witness directly, “are you aware that working diagnosis for Joshua is now…” and with that he looked at his notes “…methylmalonic acidemia?”

“I am.”

“In light of that, do you believe that your blood test—as fine a job as you may have done in performing it—may have mistakenly noted the presence of ethylene glycol when in fact the real condition detected was this other one—MA, as it has been called?”

There was no noise in the courtroom. Somewhere down the stairs, on the first floor of the courthouse, someone was talking. Outside a few car horns were sounding.

But there in Judge Trainer's courtroom, a vacuum had sucked all of the sound out. There was dead silence.

“I do believe,” Dr. Parker said slowly, “there is a possibility that my report might have missed the MA condition—and erroneously attributed the abnormal finding to poisoning instead.”

While not entirely satisfied, Will knew that was the best he was going to get.

The county rested its case.

Will rose to argue his motion to dismiss the case.

“Just three minutes,” the judge said, admonishing Will. “That's all I want you to take.”

Will was concise—even brutal—with the facts. There were two pictures being drawn, he argued. The county was, so to speak, saying that it had displayed a clear picture of abuse—but
it was only a cleverly constructed pattern of random bits of evidence.

“It is as if,” Will explained, “we have just been taken into a modern art museum. The director of the museum shows us an abstract mural—a huge, imposing canvas. On it are a scattering of unrelated lines, colors, and shapes. The director assures us that this is a picture of a rabbit, if only we could see it through his expert eyes. We should trust him. If we do, we will conclude that the rabbit is, indeed, in the picture.

“Mr. Putnam and Ms. Bender and, yes, even Dr. Parker—they are the proprietors of the power structure here. They say they have put forth a picture of a rabbit. But in fact, Your Honor, it is only unrelated lines and colors and shapes. No honest evaluation of this evidence can conclude that a picture of abuse has been presented. No sane definition of justice can cause the state to take the custody of Joshua away from his parents—and certainly not on the basis of the picture that Mr. Putnam and Ms. Bender have put forth.

“As for the other picture, that is the defense portrait, Your Honor. It is as plain and simple—and as identifiable—as those ‘hunt' paintings you see hanging at country clubs here in Georgia. We have shown, not a rabbit, but a fox. There is a clever, very devious aspect to this case. Someone has caused a false allegation of child abuse to be called in—a blood sample is missing—medical records are mysteriously unfinished until after conversations with business partners. A clever fox is behind this case. We need not name him or even officially recognize him, but the fact of his existence is real—and it has caused untold harm to a decent farming family, to caring, loving parents in your community.

“Therefore, I ask that you dismiss the custody petition of the county.”

Judge Trainer announced a thirty-minute recess, after which time he would rule on the defense motion to dismiss.

As the judge retired to his chambers, the courtroom rose, this time quietly. As quietly as the onlookers sit just before the music swells and the bride comes down the aisle—or just before the black-draped casket is carried down to the front of the funeral home.

61

J
UDGE
T
RAINER WAS ON THE BENCH
. He was shuffling—and reshuffling—the notes and papers on the bench in front of him.

The court was called to order, and all noise in the courtroom evaporated.

“First, as to the motion for this court to take the testimony of Dr. Forrester of England, currently residing in the Bahamas, by video satellite hookup. I deny that request. Opposing counsel have not stipulated to it, and I feel it would unduly burden the county's case.”

At that point Will was trying to keep his mind clear—despite the sinking feeling that all hope of winning Mary Sue's case had now been lost.

“As to the defense's motion to dismiss…” Judge Trainer's voice trailed off. Then he resumed.

“Your ‘picture of the fox' analogy is interesting, Mr. Chambers. But ultimately unconvincing. The evidence I have is simply insufficient to conclude that there is any kind of intentionally wrongful or malicious motivation behind this child-abuse petition filed by the county.

“Now, as to the ‘picture of the rabbit' argument. You have raised it, so I will address it.”

The judge was now adjusting his glasses and once more straightening his papers.

“I have carefully studied the picture of evidence presented by the county. I should add that, to a single witness, each of the witnesses presented by the county is an upstanding, credible member of the Delphi community. I believe they are honest, and I have
considered their testimony carefully. We are here for the protection of Joshua. Let's not forget that. To make sure that he—and other children in our community—can be safe from harm, injury, or abuse. There is no greater task in the law than that.

“I have looked at the picture drawn by the county…”

He paused for a moment as if trying to recollect some thought. Then, grasping it, he continued.

“And it is my considered opinion—” and with that Judge Trainer took off his glasses and wiped the sweat from his eyes. Then he put his glasses back on.

“It is my conclusion that there is simply no rabbit in that picture.”

Will, whose gaze had been fixed on the counsel table in front of him, now raised his eyes and looked over at Joe Fellows sitting next to him.

Joe, afraid of misconstruing the ruling, tried to restrain a smile—but he saw the hope that was springing to life in Will's eyes.

“The picture,” the judge continued, “does not convincingly show me that rabbit. I see only unrelated bits of evidence—some coincidentally related, but only barely so, and most of it hanging together by a thread. Some not hanging together at all after Mr. Chamber's cross-examination.