“I’m waiting for my lunch,” Mark said. “Fire away.”
“Well, you see, my cousin and his wife had a baby, sometime back, and things got really messed up at the hospital. It was a bad delivery, everything went wrong, and the baby died two days later. It had gone smooth, the pregnancy, no signs of trouble, you know? Then, all of a sudden, a dead baby. He was their first one, a little boy, and this was after they had tried to get pregnant for a long time. The mother went off the deep end big-time, cracked up, and they started fighting. They were devastated and didn’t handle it well. So they split and later divorced. A bad divorce. To this day they’re still screwed up. My cousin is drinking too much and she’s batshit crazy. A real tragedy, you know? They’ve tried to find out what happened during the delivery but the hospital won’t say much. In fact, the hospital has given them the runaround at every turn. They hired a lawyer to look into it but he wasn’t much. Said dead babies aren’t worth a lot of money. Said it’s tough to sue doctors and hospitals because they have all the records and on top of that they hire the best lawyers to keep you tied up in court forever. She, the mother, said she ain’t about to go to court. My cousin still wants to find out what happened and maybe file a suit or something, but he’s pretty screwed up too. Is that true, Mark, that dead babies ain’t worth much?”
Mark had no idea but was intrigued with the story so far. He managed to demur like a real lawyer with “Depends on the facts of the case. I would need to see the records.”
“He’s got ’em, a whole stack of paperwork that the hospital gave his lawyer, or I should say his ex-lawyer. He fired the guy and now he says he wants to talk to another lawyer. You think you might want to take a look?”
“Sure.”
The BLT arrived, with chips and a pickle but nothing to drink. Mark said to the waitress, “Thanks, but I also ordered a cup of coffee.”
“Oh yeah,” she said, irritated, and left.
Mark took a bite of the sandwich and Benson did the same. “What’s the guy’s name?”
Benson wiped his mouth and said, “Ramon Taper, same last name. My dad and his dad are brothers, but neither stayed around. Everybody calls him Digger.”
“Digger?”
“Yeah, when he was a kid he took a little spade and dug up a bunch of flowers from a neighbor’s backyard. Stole ’em, tried to replant ’em down the street. The nickname stuck.”
The coffee finally arrived and Mark said thanks. “Is he trouble?” Mark asked.
Benson laughed and said, “You could say that. Digger’s always been trouble. Spent some time in a juvenile facility but he’s not a bad dude. No real record. He was doing okay, married a good girl, and they were holding things together all right until the baby died. After the divorce, the mother moved away, some place like Charleston. Digger drifted around and moved here a few months ago. He works part-time in a liquor store, which is the last place he needs to work. Got a thing for vodka. I’m really worried about him.”
“So he’s here, in the District?”
“Yep, lives around the corner, with another crazy woman.”
As Mark crunched on the dill pickle something told him to just say no to Digger and his problems, but he was curious. “I’ll take a look.”
—
TWO DAYS LATER, Mark returned to the coffee shop. It was empty but for a skinny little black guy sitting at a table with a thick folder in front of him. Mark walked over and said, “You must be Digger.”
They shook hands and Mark sat down. Digger said, “I prefer Ramon. Digger is not the best nickname for a black guy. Obvious reasons.”
“Fair enough. I’m Mark Upshaw. Nice to meet you, Ramon.”
“Same.” He was wearing a driving cap pulled low in the front with the bill resting on a pair of oversized, round, black-framed reading glasses. The eyes behind them were puffy and red.
“Benson says you’re a fine young lawyer,” Ramon said. “Said you saved his job.”
Mark smiled and tried to think of something appropriate when the same waitress appeared. “Black coffee. Ramon?”
“Nothing, just water.”
She left and Mark looked at the eyes. His diction was clear enough but he had obviously been drinking. Mark said, “Benson told me a little about the case. Sounds like a real tragedy.”
“You could call it that. Something bad happened in the delivery, not sure we’ll ever know exactly. I wasn’t there.”
Mark absorbed this, and when it was apparent nothing else was coming, he said, “Can I ask why you weren’t there?”
“Let’s just say I wasn’t there and I should’ve been. Asia could never get over that and, of course, I got all the blame. She’s always said that if I had been there I could’ve made sure the hospital was doing things right.”
“And Asia is your ex-wife?”
“That’s right. You see, she went into labor two weeks early. It was just after midnight and the baby came quick. The hospital was real busy, there had been some shootings and a big car wreck, and, well, we’ve never really known what happened. But it looks like they neglected her and the baby got stuck coming out. Cut off his oxygen.” He tapped the folder. “It’s supposed to be in here, but we figure the hospital has covered things up.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“The first lawyer, the one I fired. You see, after it all happened, Asia went crazy, kicked me out, and filed for divorce. She had a lawyer, I had a lawyer, things were bad. I got a DUI, so I had another lawyer for that. Lots of lawyers in my life, and I just didn’t have the stamina for a big lawsuit.” He tapped the folder again.
The coffee arrived and Mark took a sip. “Where is the first lawyer?”
“Norfolk. He wanted $5,000 to pay an expert to review the records. I didn’t have $5,000 and I really didn’t like the lawyer. He wouldn’t return calls and seemed too busy. You gonna want $5,000 too?”
“No,” Mark said, but only to prolong the conversation. He had no idea how to proceed with a malpractice case but, as usual, he assumed he could learn on the fly. His plan, if he even had one, was to sign up the case, review the records, and try to determine if there was liability. If so, he would refer the case to a real lawyer who specialized in medical negligence. If the case proceeded, he and his partners would have as little involvement as possible and, hopefully, one day take a slice of a generous fee. Yes, that was the plan.
“And Asia is out of the picture?”
“Oh yes. She’s long gone. No contact.”
“Will she join the lawsuit if we file one?”
“No, no way. She wants nothing to do with any of it. She’s living down in Charleston with some family and I hope they’re trying to help her. She’s crazy, Mr. Upshaw. Hearing voices, that kind of crazy. It’s pretty sad, but she can’t stand the sight of me and has said many times that she’ll never go to court.”
“Okay, but looking down the road, if there’s a settlement, she’ll be entitled to half the money.”