“I heard about Kester.” He takes a sip of coffee as if all of this is routine. We both know it isn’t. “You’re aware that Ohio has a Good Samaritan law, right?”
He’s the second person to remind me of that. While I appreciate the sentiment, I know that even with such a law in place, a lawsuit of this nature could cause problems. And it could be expensive, not only for the township but me personally.
I raise the envelope and smack my hand against it. “I need to take a look.”
“Damn ambulance chasers,” Pickles mutters.
Skid motions toward the door where the courier just left. “I knew I should have given that squirrely little son of a bitch a ticket the other day instead of a warning.”
Leave it to my team to make me smile when I’m facing a situation that’s not the least bit funny. I appreciate it nonetheless. “I don’t think that would help in this situation.”
“Yeah, but it would have made all of us feel better,” Glock says.
*
I’m no lawyer, but it doesn’t take a law degree to know the lawsuit is going to become a serious issue. Not only is Kester suing the township of Painters Mill and the police department, but me personally. Despite Ohio’s Good Samaritan law, I’ll have no choice but to participate in the proceedings. I’ll be forced to pay for a lawyer and invest the time and energy into defending my actions the day Lucy Kester died. Though I’ll probably be cleared of any wrongdoing, there’s always a chance that I won’t, an outcome that would affect me not only on a personal level but could jeopardize my position as chief.
I skim the details of the lawsuit: On or about the afternoon of June 3, Chief of Police Kate Burkholder, who was off duty at the time, entered the badly damaged premises of Paula and Nick Kester at 345 Westmoreland in Painters Mill, Ohio. Burkholder, who is a certified emergency medical technician, proceeded to assess the seriously wounded infant, four-month-old Lucy Ann Kester, and, against EMT training protocol, moved the child without the aid of a neck brace or backboard. As a direct result of Burkholder’s decision to move the infant patient, Lucy Ann Kester expired four hours later at Pomerene Hospital in Millersburg. According to the Holmes County Coroner’s autopsy report, the infant child, Lucy Ann Kester, had suffered from a fracture of the vertebra prominens. It is asserted that had the deceased infant been moved with the assistance of a backboard or neck brace, she would have likely survived the ordeal.…
The lawsuit goes on for several more pages, but I don’t read them. For the hundredth time I’m reminded that while Ohio’s Good Samaritan law may protect me legally, it doesn’t protect me from my own conscience.
I want to talk to Tomasetti and run all of this by him. It scares me how much I need him at this moment. It scares me because if the time ever comes when we’re not together, I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe I’ve come to rely on him a little too much. That scares me, too.
I dial Mayor Auggie Brock’s office number from memory. He picks up on the first ring sounding perturbed, and I know even before asking that he’s been served, too. I ask anyway. “Did you get served?”
“I did,” he says. “You?”
“Unfortunately.”
“The loss of a young life aside, Kate, this is not good PR for Painters Mill or the PD. We’re a tourist town, for God’s sake.”
“I’m aware.”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“No.” The thought sends a quiver of uneasiness through my gut. “Do we have someone on retainer?”
“Seitz and Seitz.”
Hoover Seitz is a brilliant attorney, but it’s common knowledge around town that he enjoys his happy-hour martinis a little too much.
Auggie sighs, already moving on to his next immediate problem. “We don’t have the budget for a damn lawsuit.”
I want to believe he’s just venting his frustration, but in some small corner of my mind I know there’s a possibility he won’t back me on this. He’ll be forced to pay for the legal defense for my department, but not me personally. It could wipe me out financially.
“Auggie,” I say firmly, “I expect your support on this.”
“Of course I’ll support you, Kate. I’ll do everything I can, but if the money isn’t there, it isn’t there.”
I curb a rise of anger, even though I know there are already too many emotions tangled up in this mess.
“If you get any media inquiries, send them to my office,” he tells me.
“All right.”
“And for God’s sake, call Hoover before happy hour starts.”
*