“But then why didn’t he also do chest compressions?”
“You’re jumping back into what we know now. The doctor’s intent at that point was simply to say he left his patient alive. He had no idea that the woman’s dying agony was being recorded on video. No idea that we would see that he didn’t perform chest compressions or any other lifesaving measures. He intended to claim that he had performed chest compressions, and that she survived. That she must have died subsequent to his intervention.”
“If he’d performed chest compressions on an elderly woman, the evidence would be obvious. Severe bruising, broken ribs even. But that brings me back to my original problem with the whole scenario.”
“Which is?”
“Why did he leave the scene? As I said earlier, if he’d stayed at the scene, no autopsy would have been required.”
“Exactly. I’ve asked myself the same question many times. Why did he leave the scene? There are three possible answers. One, as he watched Viola die, Dr. Cage was overcome by the horror of his act and could not stand to remain at the scene of the crime.”
“Right now the jury’s thinking about that video recording,” I say into the phone, “and how Viola was panicking and begging for Dad’s help.”
“Yep,” Rusty says, pausing the tape. “We’re getting close to your house now. Keep listening. Not much left.”
“Two, there was something at the scene the doctor needed to destroy as soon as possible.”
“The videotape Viola made for Henry,” I say.
“Bingo,” says Rusty.
“Why hasn’t Shad mentioned that specifically? He didn’t even bring it up in his opening statement.”
“He will, don’t worry. Listen to the end.”
“Three, someone arrived on the scene, or was about to arrive—a family member who would ‘raise a stink,’ as you suggested—and the doctor didn’t have the nerve to brazen it out in front of that person.”
“Lincoln,” I mutter. “Cora testified that Dad knew Lincoln was on his way to Natchez from Chicago.”
“Yep,” Rusty says in an emotionless voice.
“Do any of those scenarios sound reasonable to you, Doctor?”
“I wouldn’t know about the doctor needing to destroy anything. But the other two scenarios sound reasonable. I’ve seen families accuse a doctor of murder after a death. But still, this doctor would know that once he ran, an autopsy would almost certainly be performed. That’s a big risk.”
“Is it? If he claimed that the adrenaline was used to resuscitate her? Used successfully?”
“It would be a stretch, medically speaking. I still think the easiest and smartest thing by far—for a doctor meaning to kill his patient—would be to stay on the scene, call the ambulance after the patient expired, and brazen it out. That would almost certainly be the end of it—legally speaking.”
“But that would require a great deal of nerve, Doctor. And the physician in this case is no longer a man in his prime with little to lose. Further, his reasons for panic fall outside the realm of your medical expertise, so I’ll now turn you over to the tender mercies of the counsel for the defense.”
“Do you believe this?” Rusty says angrily. “He’s daring Quentin to cross-examine the guy. But by now he’s positive that Quentin won’t. Shad is mocking Quentin Avery, man! I could never have imagined it. We’re a block away from your house. There’s only one thing left.”
“Let me hear it.”
“Your witness.”
“Mr. Johnson, one other scenario just occurred to me.”
I can tell by the delay before Shad’s reply that the medical examiner has jumped off script. But if Shad doesn’t let him say whatever he wants to say, Quentin might well roll out from behind his table and offer Dr. Phillips the opportunity. Any competent attorney would. I’ve been in this situation myself, and I know Shad has little choice but to let his witness speak, and hope for the best.
“What’s that, Doctor?”
“If Dr. Cage meant to murder Mrs. Turner, as you’ve postulated, and he ran out of morphine, which the evidence indicates—”
“Proves.”
“Yes, all right. Well, even if everything went as you’ve suggested, once the whole thing went wrong and the doctor knew he was going to be charged with first-degree murder . . .”
“Yes?”
“Why didn’t he just say, ‘All right, yes, we had an assisted-suicide pact. I provided the morphine for her to euthanize herself, but she botched the injection, so I let her inject the adrenaline to stop her heart. It wasn’t ideal, but it was all I had.’? Why didn’t he say that? The penalty for physician-assisted suicide is ten years, isn’t it? A murder conviction means life in prison.”
Shad takes so long with this question that I find myself hoping the pathologist has stunned him into losing his composure. But then Shad comes through with his customary tactical proficiency.
“He may well intend to say that when he testifies, Doctor. Or if he didn’t intend to say that, he may decide to now. But the fact is, when questioned by the authorities, Dr. Cage said nothing of the sort. In fact, he refused to say anything at all. And that is why we find ourselves here today. I tender the witness.”
Less than five seconds pass before Quentin Avery says, “No questions, Your Honor,” and I shut my eyes with the dread of a man watching a replay of a fatal accident.
“We’re here,” Rusty says in my ear. “Finally.”
“Good.”
Chapter 26
I’ve just made a round of all the security guards, making sure they know to expect John Kaiser and that he could appear from anywhere. Tim and I are standing near the back door, discussing the possibility of bringing more men from Texas, when Rusty marches halfway up the hall and waves at me.
“Dude. I’ve got the whole crowd in there, and we need to get the Quentin issue sorted out before your mom has a real stroke and your dad gets sent up the river.”
Following Rusty to the den, I find not only my mother but Jenny, Annie, and to my surprise, Miriam Masters. Everyone’s talking at once, but the theme is universal: Quentin Avery has lost his mind.
“Penn, I can’t calm down,” Mom says in a quavering voice. “My hands have been shaking for the past hour.”
“Take it easy, now.” I lean down to hug her, but she pushes me away.
“Take it easy? You’ve got to fire Quentin, son. You’ve got to take over Tom’s defense!”
“Mom, I can’t fire Quentin. Only Dad can do that.”
“Then somebody take me to the jail, and I’ll tell him he’s got to do it. Is that where Tom is now? Or do they give him lunch in the courthouse?”
“There’s a holding cell in the courthouse,” Rusty says softly, “but if I know Billy Byrd, Doc’s back in his cell.”