It's Nothing Personal Read online

In the ladies’ room, Jenna splashed cool water on her face and blew her nose. Five minutes later, she returned to the conference room. Out of respect, Jim overlooked Jenna’s bloodshot eyes and red nose.

  Once Jenna took her seat, he resumed outlining their lineup of expert witnesses.

  “Getting back to our defense, Dr. Arlene Myer is a nationally recognized hepatologist. She will testify that hepatitis C could have been transmitted to Ms. Hollings by either contaminated saline or contaminated medication.

  “Dr. Meyer will also state that Michelle Hollings’ hepatitis infection is cured. According to the doctor’s extensive experience, the fact that Ms. Hollings has had no detectable virus since completion of her treatment indicates that, without repeat exposure, there is essentially zero chance of recurrence. Furthermore, she will state that Ms. Hollings has no current symptoms related to her prior infection or its treatment.”

  Jokingly, Jenna said, “Maybe I should have asked to hear our side first. Knowing all this, their case is starting to sound like a crock. What else do you have?”

  The irritation in Jenna’s eyes began to clear. Gradually, she appeared calmer and more confident.

  Nancy was openly grinning. “It keeps getting better. We have a psychologist that has reviewed Michelle Hollings’ records. According to Dr. Joyce Boden, Ms. Hollings’ diagnoses of PTSD, panic disorder, and anxiety disorder are not supported by her symptoms, and the criteria for diagnosis of any of these disorders has not been met. ”

  “Big shocker there,” interjected Jenna with spite.

  Nancy continued, “Dr. Boden will also testify that any psychiatric symptoms that Ms. Hollings currently suffers from are unrelated to her infection with hepatitis C.

  “Our last expert witness is a human resources vice president by the name of John Rhodes. He has more than thirty years of experience in hiring practices for large corporations. Mr. Rhodes plans to testify that St. Augustine Hospital was grossly negligent in its pre-employment investigation and retention of Hillary Martin.

  “More specifically, he will testify that St. Augustine did not require Ms. Martin to account for gaps in her employment. These gaps should have been red flags, and should have prompted further inquiry. He will attest to the fact that St. Augustine failed to contact the hospitals where Hillary Martin was employed in the past, and they failed to do a criminal background check.

  “Mr. Rhodes has harsh criticisms of St. Augustine’s response to Hillary Martin’s employment health screening. Martin stated on an employment screening form that she was negative for a variety of infectious diseases, including hepatitis C. As we all know, her pre-employment blood work showed otherwise. Nothing was done to determine whether Hillary Martin knowingly lied on her health screening. She was never questioned with respect to when and how she could have possibly become infected with the hepatitis C virus. Mr. Rhodes’ testimony will show that a reasonable investigation should have either revealed her infection was a result of intravenous drug use, and/or she falsified her pre-employment screening form. Either way, her job offer should have been withdrawn.”

  “Wow,” said Jenna, shaking her head. “It’s so much to comprehend. Listening to their side, all I can picture is the jurors taking out the guilty stamp and branding me on the forehead. Then I listen to our side and think, how could we lose?”

  Jim replied honestly, “If you see it that way, then you are very perceptive. The trial will be a series of tit for tats. It will ultimately boil down to who the jurors find most believable, who they like the best, how they perceive you, and how they perceive Michelle Hollings. Unfortunately, it is these intangibles, rather than the facts, which most often determines who wins and who loses. That being said, I think we have a very credible list of expert witnesses, and we feel very positive about this case.”

  “So,” asked Jenna, “what exactly is our strategy?”

  He looked directly at her, his hands clasped behind his head. “We attack.”

  Jim’s face grew more animated and energized. The twinkle in his eyes told Jenna that this was the part of his job he relished. Jenna glanced at Nancy, whose enthusiasm mirrored that of her colleague’s.

  Even though Jim’s expression was filled with excitement, his words were menacing, “Jenna, this is the point where we go for the jugular.”

  To Jenna, nothing sounded more enticing.

  Jim smirked, “We start by suggesting that there is a distinct possibility that it wasn’t even your syringe of Fentanyl that served as the source of Michelle Hollings’ infection.”

  Tilting her head in Jim’s direction, Jenna asked, “I know you alluded to that with respect to Dr. Meyer’s testimony, but what exactly do you mean?”

  “Hillary Martin testified that she stole Fentanyl syringes, filled the used ones with saline, and replaced the stolen syringes with contaminated syringes. In the entirety of her testimony, Martin never singled out any particular anesthesiologist. Never once did Hillary Martin come out and say, ‘I stole from so and so.’ This got us to thinking. What if Martin never touched your syringes? What if the contamination came from saline?”

  Nancy could not contain herself. “It’s more than just an outlandish excuse, Jenna. This is a plausible explanation for Ms. Hollings’ infection. It is completely possible that it had nothing to do with you or your drugs. We were thinking about it. Where would Martin have had the easiest access to saline?”

  Jenna challenged herself to think like Hillary Martin as she contemplated Nancy’s question. “Well, there are vials of saline in the anesthesia cart, but that would mean Martin would have to spend that much more time snooping around where she did not belong. From her perspective, that probably was not the best source. There are one liter and half-liter bags of saline everywhere, but they are prepackaged in a protective wrapper. It wouldn’t be very practical to steal a liter bag, draw up five milliliters of saline, and then throw the whole bag away without being caught.”

  Her attorneys patiently waited for Jenna to come to the realization they had already reached.

  Jenna considered other sources of saline. All of a sudden, it hit her. Without warning, Jenna leapt from her chair, snapped her fingers, and pointed at her lawyers.

  “The back table! There’s always a bowl of saline on the back table with all the sterile surgical equipment. If I were Hillary Martin, that’s where I’d refill. It’s just sitting there, ready to be used. It would be the quickest and easiest way to refill a syringe without being caught. If that were the case, the saline on the back table would become contaminated. That saline is used to irrigate open wounds and comes in direct contact with a patient’s blood.”

  Jenna sat back down, pondering this explanation. Doubt soon overshadowed her initial elation. “The problem is, how would we ever prove that?”

  Nancy answered, “The beauty is, we don’t have to. The only person in the world who knows what Hillary Martin really did is Hillary Martin. Look at her credibility. She’s a drug addict, a convicted felon, a proven liar, and a thief. No lawyer in their right mind, not even Allison Anders, would ever call her to the stand as part of their defense. There’s no way Hillary Martin will be present at trial to contradict our theory. Anything that Hillary Martin has ever said up to this point is suspect, at best. All we have to do is show this explanation is possible.”

  “I like it,” said Jenna, sneering. “If the jury becomes uncertain as to whether or not my syringes were ever diverted, a huge part of Anders’ ammunition against me disappears. Then we have our anesthesia experts come in and testify that, even if Martin did steal my drugs, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

  “Exactly,” said Jim proudly. “It’s a million little holes that will make their case disintegrate in the end.”

  “What about St. Augustine?” Jenna asked, concerned. “You said Mr. Rhodes would testify that their hiring practices were inadequate, at best. Exactly how far are we going to go with attacking the hospital?”

  The prospect of revealing St. Augustin
e’s mistakes made Jenna’s stomach burn. She was certain there would be damaging repercussions for her career. On the other hand, Jenna acknowledged that they had to do everything they could to win this case.

  Although Jim correctly suspected Jenna did not feel an overwhelming sense of loyalty to the hospital, he realized that confronting St. Augustine would be difficult for her.

  Choosing his words carefully, Jim said, “There is no doubt that St. Augustine failed to follow adequate screening procedures when they hired Hillary Martin. I would venture to say that McDonalds does a more thorough background check on its potential employees than St. Augustine conducted for Hillary Martin. And there’s a big difference between flipping burgers and being granted access to an operating room.”

  Jim stalled for a moment, struggling to read Jenna’s emotions. A strong strike on the hospital was critical to their defense. It was imperative to convince Jenna of the same.

  “Jenna,” he argued, “if St. Augustine had done the proper background check and had asked the right questions, Hillary Martin would never have been hired. If that were the case, Martin would never have had the opportunity to infect patients. In essence, St. Augustine placed you in a position to be victimized by a criminal. St. Augustine put you here. Don’t forget the patients who may have been infected by Hillary Martin’s drug buddies. St. Augustine is actively trying to cover up their existence and deny them care. The folks at St. Augustine aren’t the good guys.”

  Since the beginning, Jenna had grown increasingly hostile toward the hospital administration. St. Augustine had made an epic hiring mistake. To Jenna, it was apparent that the administration was willing to do whatever was required to make this mess go away. Jenna considered Jim’s words, and she understood that he was right. St. Augustine had started the cycle that was threatening to ruin Jenna’s life. If the situation were reversed and St. Augustine’s existence depended on exposing Jenna’s flaws, the hospital would heartlessly and swiftly annihilate her. In the interest of self-preservation, she had no choice but do to the same.

  Jenna shivered as she said, “Even though I know you’re right, I’m scared to death to go up against them. St. Augustine wants this to all go away, and we’ll be flaunting their mistakes and culpability for all to see. What do you think they’ll do to me?”

  Nancy spoke up, “Legally, the hospital can’t do anything. If St. Augustine revoked your privileges, they’d have to do the same for every other anesthesiologist affected by this ordeal, and that’s unlikely.”

  “I’m sure they could make life difficult for me,” Jenna said, hanging her head.

  “They would proceed very carefully before they did anything like that. The last thing they want is more bad press, and mistreating a doctor because her case went to court would bring plenty of undesired attention. That being said, you have to be prepared for the worst and willing to accept that possibility before we move forward.”

  Jenna rubbed her eyes, contemplating the consequences. She raised her head and brazenly concluded, “We have no choice but to go after St. Augustine. I’ll deal with the fallout if and when it happens.”

  CHAPTER 45

  Jenna felt like a gambler sitting at the blackjack table, having lost everything but her last twenty dollars. Taking a big breath, she decided to bet her remaining chips and play to the bitter end. There were so many other players who had precious little to lose and so much to win. Worse, these players were intimately familiar with the rules of the game. They knew how to read the cards, stack the odds in their favor, and game the system. Jenna, on the other hand, was competing for the very first time, and the stakes could not be higher. In the end, it remained to be seen who would fold. The plaintiff’s expert witnesses? Michelle Hollings? Allison Anders? Or would it be Jenna?

  Thoughts of Michelle Hollings filled Jenna’s consciousness. If part of their defense relied upon attacking St. Augustine, destroying Michelle Hollings seemed like the next logical step.

  Looking at her lawyers, Jenna asked, “What about Hollings?”

  Nancy reached for her laptop, clicked on the mouse pad, turned her computer around, and pushed it across the table toward Jenna. Jenna positioned the screen in front of her and gasped as she found herself looking at Michelle Hollings’ Facebook page. She was dumbstruck as she scrolled through the pictures.

  Michelle Hollings was beautiful, seductive, and sexy. One picture captured Michelle Hollings on a tropical beach lying in the sand, wearing a skimpy bikini that barely covered her enormous breasts. Her brown skin shimmered in the sun, as she held a Dos Equis up to the camera. In another picture, Michelle posed in cutoff shorts and a push-up bra on the hood of her shiny, red convertible.

  Jenna’s eyes were blazing. “So this is the face of chronic fatigue, PTSD, anxiety, and panic attacks? We can show this to the jury, right?”

  Somberly, Jim explained, “We can, and we will. The tricky part is that you never know what jurors find offensive and what they don’t. We have to be very careful how we go about it.”

  Incredulously, Jenna asked, “So, we downplay this?”

  “Not at all. We fully intend to introduce it, but very cautiously. We can’t hold up a picture of Michelle Hollings with a beer in her hand and tell the jury she’s a bad person. Instead, we ask Hollings if she has any activities she enjoys. Regardless of her answer, we introduce the photo and gently point out to the jury that Michelle Hollings seems pretty happy drinking on the beach.

  “We ask Hollings if there’s any other way she could have contracted hepatitis C. If she denies any such possibility exists, and she probably will, we pull out the photos showing her body piercings.

  “We’ll get these images into play, but we will do it in a way that keeps us from looking as though we are attacking the victim. We don’t want to turn the jury against us. It’s a tenuous exercise, but trust us, it’s one we are very good at.”

  Jenna grew cold with anger. “Just promise me that you will work this stuff in. If they get to trash me for days on end, we should at least get revenge whenever we can.”

  Jim’s eyes bore into Jenna’s. “I give you my word.”

  Nancy reached back for her computer. “Just so you know, all of these photos are new, since Hollings’ settlement with St. Augustine. Frankly, the girl is an idiot for posting them. I’m shocked that Anders hasn’t caught wind of this and forced her to pull them off the Internet. The oversight is too bad for Anders, but lucky for us. You might also want to know that we are setting up surveillance on Ms. Hollings.”

  Never having considered such a thing, Jenna was intrigued. “Surveillance? You mean private eye, stakeout kind of stuff?”

  “Exactly,” replied Nancy. “We know Michelle Hollings is not the incapacitated introvert she claims to have become. That much is evident from her Facebook page. If we can catch Hollings in action, we’ll have more powerful evidence to present to the jury. Randy Stevens has authorized us to have her monitored for two entire weekends. The private investigator will follow her everywhere, taking pictures and video of any indiscretions.”

  A chilling thought gripped Jenna. What if Allison Anders was watching her? Did she know where Jenna lived? What about Mia and Tom? Could Allison have some stranger stalking her family? The concept of someone tracking her daughter left Jenna feeling paranoid.

  “Could they be following me?” Jenna whispered.

  Nancy was quick to comfort her. “It’s unlikely. Your character is not on trial here. The same is not true with respect to Michelle Hollings.”

  Jenna did not completely believe Nancy. If Allison Anders did not have a tail on her, maybe St. Augustine did. This whole thing had evolved into something much larger than Jenna had ever anticipated.

  CHAPTER 46

  November 2011

  Saturday night, Mia was spending the night with a friend, allowing Tom and Jenna to enjoy a rare evening alone. Jenna cuddled up on the couch, sipping herbal tea, and watching a television documentary. Her eyes were trained on the progra
m, but her mind was elsewhere.

  Tom snuggled up next to Jenna, muted the TV, and began kissing her neck. Involuntarily, Jenna’s back stiffened. She felt dirty and worthless. The burden of being intimate was more than she could bear. For her husband’s sake, she forced herself to reciprocate. Within minutes, they were undressed, lying on the shaggy carpet with the television flickering in the background. Tom was aroused. Jenna felt like a corpse. Tom fondled Jenna’s breasts, gently kissing her nipples. Reflexively, her nipples hardened, and Jenna moaned on cue. He kissed his way down her stomach. She tried to relax, but could not. More than anything, she just wanted to finish the act and get it over with. She rolled Tom over on to his back and mounted him. Tom, pent up with desire, rocked his hips against Jenna’s. Their bodies collided, hard and forceful, until he exploded inside his wife.

  In the darkened room, tears slid down Jenna’s cheeks as she rolled off of her husband. In the shadows of the night, Tom heard Jenna sniffle. He turned off the television, switched on the fireplace, and lit a couple of candles. Jenna sat motionless, her knees drawn toward her chest. Tom sat beside her and wrapped a blanket around them.

  Jenna was unable to face her husband. Instead, she picked at a loose piece of yarn in the weave of the blanket. Tom reached over and held his wife’s face in his hands.

  With gentleness and concern, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just tired.” She sounded sad, exhausted, and powerless.

  “I’m not talking about tonight. I’m talking about you. Every day. All the time. You’re distant, distracted. You’re here, but not really. You have to talk to me. Please, Jenna. Don’t shut me out.”

  Jenna’s wall of bravado crumbled, and the floodgates of defeat and humiliation opened wide. Meeting Tom’s gaze, she felt like a failure.

  “I’m so stressed. The lawsuit follows me every second of the day. I worry that somebody is watching us, like our people spy on Michelle Hollings. Every morning, the first thing I do is check to see if there’s a news story about me. At work, I feel like tainted goods. I don’t trust myself anymore, and I certainly don’t trust my patients. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to fight. Part of me still does. But part of me feels like I’m breaking.”