Just Destiny (36 page)

Helen continued. “Mr. Pope, if family members are not in agreement about making a gift of the decedent’s organs, who has the ultimate authority?”

“The next of kin; usually the husband or the wife.”

“Dr. Harrison’s uncle strenuously objected to the donation, yet it went through. Could you explain why?”

“Dr. Harrison’s wife wanted to make the gift. Under those circumstances the uncle has no authority to dictate events.”

“Thank you. No more questions.”

Ms. Blair wisely declined cross-examination, so the next witness was called.

“The Defense calls George Turner to the stand.” Helen waited patiently for George to be sworn in.

Jenny scanned the room behind her, happy to see that Judith had sent Ted and Alex home. She’d cancelled her afternoon surgeries to listen to George’s testimony. Back rigid, expression closed, Judith sat in the front row next to Jenny’s parents, where George could easily see her. Jenny turned around, sad for her. Sad for them all.

“Mr. Turner, why did you and your wife never have children of your own?”

George pursed his lips, then shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Arlene never got pregnant.”

“Did you want children?”

“Of course.” He scowled as if insulted.

“Was there a medical reason you could not have any children?”

“No. She just never got pregnant.”

“Earlier, you testified that you and your wife became Dr. Harrison’s legal guardians in nineteen eighty-two, when he was orphaned at age twelve, but that’s not quite true, is it? You became his legal guardian in nineteen seventy-nine, three years
before
Gabe was orphaned. He was nine at the time.”

“So? I was off a couple of years. Jan was on the old side when she had Gabe.” He frowned and looked into space. “She and her husband weren’t about to let a kid keep them from traipsing all over the world with the Peace Corps, but I finally convinced them that that was no life for a child. He needed stability and normalcy. So they left Gabe with me and Adele and came back to visit the boy for holidays.”

Helen paced to the right. “Again, not quite true. Mr. Turner, your sister and her husband’s affiliation with the Peace Corps ended in nineteen seventy-eight, at which time she and her husband moved to New York so your sister could participate in an experimental treatment program for Huntington’s Disease.”

“Objection, relevancy,” Ms. Blair called out.

“Approach the bench.” The judge beckoned them forward.

Jenny couldn’t hear their whispered discussion, but it was quickly resolved and Helen continued.

“Mr. Turner, isn’t it true that the real reason you were given custody of your nephew is that your sister was dying of Huntington’s Disease and your brother-in-law took her to various clinics throughout the world for experimental treatments before ultimately putting her in a New York facility that specialized in caring for those with Huntington’s Disease?”

George raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. “They
did
work for the Peace Corps.”

“Yes, but not up to her death, as you told everyone.”

“So? What does it matter?”

“Isn’t it true that your sister, Dr. Harrison’s mother, died from complications associated with Huntington’s disease, not amoebic dysentery as you told everyone?”

“Sam did. He got dysentery in Somolia.”

“We’re not disputing Dr. Harrison’s
father’s
cause of death. Isn’t it true that Jan Harrison died from complications from Huntington’s disease?”

George deflated. “Yes.”

“So you lied to Dr. Harrison, his wife, and to everyone about the true cause of her death. You lied,” she turned and looked at Jenny, “like Jenny did, when she claimed to be her brother’s mother, to protect a loved one. Didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“When did you tell Dr. Harrison about his mother’s illness?”

“Objection. Your Honor, Mr. Turner is not on trial here,” Ms. Blair said.

“Goes to character,” Helen shot back.

“Objection overruled.” The judge turned to George. “Please answer the question.”

George scowled and looked down. “Never.”

“You
never
told Dr. Harrison that his mother died of a deadly
hereditary
disease? Why not?”

George clasped his hands together until the knuckles turned white. He fixed his fierce gaze on the railing surrounding the witness box. “He didn’t need to know,” he bit out.

“He didn’t need to know,” she repeated. “Mr. Turner, did you ever have Dr. Harrison tested to find out if he had inherited Huntington’s disease from his mother?”

George shifted in his seat then glared at Helen for forcing the truth. “I did.”

“And what were the results?”

George frowned and tightened his lips. His head jerked a little from side to side.

“Mr. Turner? Did Dr. Harrison test positive for Huntington’s Disease?”

George scanned the courtroom until his gaze landed on Judith. Looking away from her censorious expression, his Adam’s apple bobbed under his jowls. He slumped and blinked several times, then stared at his folded hands.

Helen looked at the judge.

Jenny’s heart sank in sadness. Sadness for George, but she was infinitely more distressed by the truth. Ted and Alex were at risk—as her baby would have been if they hadn’t uncovered the truth. Thank God Helen hired the private eye.

Judge Delaney leaned down to George. “Mr. Turner, you must answer the question.”

George’s frown deepened. He looked up and scowled at Helen. “He had it, okay? Are you satisfied?”

Satisfied? Hardly
. They all would have given a great deal for a “no.”

“When did you have the testing done?” Helen asked.

“The year after his mother died.”

“And you never told him the results?”

George’s eyes bulged. “Are you kidding? He was fourteen. Why would I tell a kid somethin’ like that?”

“That’s understandable, but what about when he became an adult? Had you told him by the time he graduated medical school?”

“No.”

“Before he married Dr. Sterling?”

George shook his head. “No.”

“Before they had children?”

Jenny could understand George’s silence up to that point, but once Gabe married Judith, he had a moral obligation to tell Gabe the truth. That should have been the time. At that point George’s continued silence morphed from protective parent to coward.

“No.”

“No?” Helen raised surprised eyebrows. “When
did
you tell Dr. Harrison that he had Huntington’s disease?”

George raised his chin. “I didn’t. I kept up with all the research. They hadn’t found a cure in forty years, so what was the point?”

“The point was that Dr. Harrison was a grown adult; he had the right to know. As a doctor he was in a better position than most—than you—to understand the complexities of his disease. The
point was
that as an adult who knew he had a terminal illness, he might have chosen to have a vasectomy and not risk passing the disease along to his children—or to have embryos genetically tested for Huntington’s and avoid the risk of perpetuating the disease. The
point was
that knowing that his life span would be greatly limited he might have chosen to live his adult life differently.

“
The point was
, as a surgeon, Dr. Harrison’s livelihood and people’s lives, depended upon the steadiness of his hands. You could have jeopardized his patients and made him vulnerable to lawsuits, simply because he didn’t know that the tremor in his hands was more than an excess of caffeine.”

George’s chin thrust out, belligerent. “I was watching for signs. Gabe was just starting to get the shakies. He’s a smart man, he would have found out for himself soon enough.”

“But perhaps there was medication he could have taken or treatments to delay the onset of the symptoms. Now we’ll never know, because
you
took that choice away from him. Gabe Harrison was an adult and a doctor, and he died at age forty-three never knowing that he had a deadly hereditary disease and possibly passed it on to his children.”

“See? He lived his life happy never knowing. Do you know how many people with Huntington’s Disease commit suicide?” George asked. “Plenty. About half the people with the disease die never having been tested. They don’t
want
to know. Gabe lived a full, happy life ’cause he
didn’t
know. I still say it was the right thing to do.”

“I’ve never doubted that you had your nephew’s best interest at heart, Mr. Turner. But when Dr. Harrison became an adult, he had a
right
to know he had Huntington’s disease.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Ms. Blair called out. “Mr. Turner is not on trial here. Besides, this testimony has no relevancy—”

“It is
completely
relevant,” Helen shot back. “By withholding that information, he took away Dr. Harrison’s right to decide for himself if he wanted to know if he had inherited the disease.” She swung around to face George. “
You
took that choice from him in a violation far greater than his wife taking his sperm.”

“Objection sustained. Move on, counselor,” the judge said.

“Are you kidding me? Look, you can judge me all you want, but I was protecting Gabe—and even her.” George jerked his head toward Jenny. “It’d break her heart to find out she had a baby with Huntington’s Disease. Now that you brought it out, Alex and Ted are going to find out and have to deal with it too. I was
protecting
them. All of them.” He glanced at her, then back at Helen. “Sometimes ignorance
is
bliss.”

“You could have done a better job protecting your family had you told Dr. Harrison about the Huntington’s.”

“Who are you to judge me?” George pulled himself up tall in his seat. “And when should I have told him? One minute Gabe was a teenager, the next, Judith was pregnant. Should I have told them then so she could abort the baby?”

Yes—if that’s what they would have chosen
. The decision should have been Gabe and Judith’s—not George’s. But Jenny could sympathize. Time seemed fly, like a freight train gathering momentum. Not long ago Michael had been a crying infant and now he was a teenager. It seemed like just yesterday she married Gabe: now he was gone. Their time together had been far too brief.

“Perhaps they would have chosen to abort the baby. It wasn’t
your
decision to make, it was theirs—or should have been theirs.” Helen stated. “As for Jenny, once she gets her husband’s sperm, she can have the embryos genetically tested and implant only those free of Huntington’s. If you’d only been honest with them all from the start, there’d been no need for any of this.” She waved her arm at the courtroom.

“Yes, there is. What she’s trying to do is
still
wrong and none of this has anything to do with her having his baby.”

“Of course it does. It’s all about choice and rights—your nephew and Jenny’s husband’s rights. And her rights as Gabe’s wife and next of kin. Moving on.” Helen consulted her notes.

Jenny was already worn out. Gabe had had Huntington’s. His trembling hands hadn’t been the result of excess caffeine but the beginnings of a terrible debilitating disease. She tucked that reality away to examine later, as she focused on Helen’s continued questioning.

“Your wife died when Gabe was fifteen, leaving him your only living relative?”

“Yes.”

“Life must have been difficult for you after your wife died.” She watched him, expectant.

“Me and Gabe were fine,” he said in a gruff voice, as if not wanting anybody to pity him. “We had each other.”

“You had each other. You and Gabe must have grown quite close?”

George’s generous lips lifted in a smile as he nodded with pride. “Very close. I was best man at his first wedding.”

“Best man? Wonderful.” Helen appeared to be impressed, then crossed her arms and paced in front of the witness box. “Please bear with me a moment as I digress,” Helen said in a thoughtful voice. “Mr. Turner, was Adele Williams your wife?”

“Yes.”

“She was the daughter of renowned chef Joseph Williams, yet had acquired some eminence in her own right as a chef?”

“Yes. Desserts were her specialty.” He smiled fondly. “Nobody made chocolate mousse like my Adele.”

“Mr. Turner, how did your wife die?”

His smile evaporated. “She died from a broken heart. That scumbag reporter killed her.”

Helen’s eyebrows rose in a look of surprise. “A reporter killed her?”

He nodded. “Adele was a good woman. She never hurt anybody. And that restaurant meant the world to her. Her and her pa used to argue about how to run it. When he retired, ’cause he had a heart attack and couldn’t stay on his feet that long anymore, Adele took over.

“She wanted to prove she was as good as the old man, when she was really better. Hands down," he said with pride. "But she worked so hard. I tried to get her to slow down so she wouldn’t end up like her pa, but she wouldn’t listen.

“Anyhow, there was an outbreak of Salmonella, and this reporter put it in the newspaper that these sick people had been poisoned at Adele’s restaurant. It wasn’t true, but people believe what they read. Nobody would eat there anymore, and my poor Adele was heartbroken. She fretted herself right into that stroke. Thinking people blamed her for all those sick people, she lost her will to live.” He paused, his eyes turning cold. “All because of that lyin’ reporter.”

“Did the salmonella come from her restaurant?”

He scoffed. “Of course not. But by the time they figured that out, the damage had been done. Nobody would eat there and Adele was dead.”

“And you blame the reporter for her death?” Helen asked.

“Of course.” His eyes narrowed and his lips curled in contempt. “If he hadn’t printed those lies about her, she’d be alive today.”

“You must not have a very high opinion of the press?”

He snorted. “No, I do
not
.”

“Then you must not have liked the fact that your nephew married a journalist, did you?”

“Not particularly.”