The judge entered, the entire courtroom rose and Maggie studied him. He looked very big in his robes but she thought, given the perspective of him passing the bailiff, he was actually a small, chunky man with a large, intimidating mustache and a ring of white hair around his otherwise bald head. And he was scowling.
He was efficient. They began going through the paperwork, first the complaint of wrongful death, then the motions—each one was read and had Maggie’s attorney not explained them all, she would be lost. There was the complaint, which was the plaintiff’s case. There was the counterclaim, which was essentially her side of the story and as close as she’d ever get to testifying, which she probably would never get to do. With the help of her lawyer and depositions, they had reconstructed the emergency in a timeline with supporting facts. There was the reply to the counterclaim in which the plaintiff alleged it should be obvious to any certified and experienced neurosurgeon that the patient to take to surgery was their son and not the unconscious boy—they alleged she had mismanaged triage. Then there was the statute of limitations, forcing the trial in a timely manner. She found that laughable a year and a half after the event. There were several more motions as well as evidence in discovery. All of these motions, each one read and explained and denied, took almost two hours. Denied to the defense team was the district attorney’s report in which he declined to prosecute any malpractice. A blow to the defense.
Then, finally, the plaintiff’s attorney offered a motion of summary judgment. Steve whispered to her that meant they’d go with the judge’s decision rather than a jury. They had no doubt heard Judge White wasn’t crazy about doctors.
“Your Honor, we make a motion to dismiss,” Steve said.
“Sit down, Mr. Rubin.”
The courtroom sank into dark quiet. The judge took a deep breath before he spoke.
“My heart is very heavy today,” he said. “I’ve read the claim, the counterclaim, all the motions and pleas. Inclusive in those materials was the accident report. In the plaintiff’s claim the focus is on two sixteen-year-old boys but in fact there were five—it was a catastrophic event, all arriving in the emergency room critical, one of them beyond help upon arrival. I preside over many civil malpractice and wrongful death suits. Many of them emerge from emergency rooms and emergency operating rooms. There is not only a reconstructed timeline provided by the defendant but notes from paramedics, RNs, attending physicians and ER physicians, not to mention the OR staff. From the time the first of the injured arrived in the emergency room until the fifth patient arrived, only six minutes had elapsed. From the time triage was complete until the first patient was anesthetized and the surgeon at the ready, four more minutes. From the time patient Markiff was assessed and sent to radiology for his head CT—two and a half minutes. There were also other decisions and designations made within this time frame—one boy sent to surgery for splenectomy while yet another was put into the care of an orthopedic surgeon and on to surgery to deal with two life-threatening broken femurs and yet another put on life support for possible organ harvest.
“If anyone had trouble following that—the time from the very first of five injured arriving in the emergency room until Dr. Sullivan entered the OR suite—ten minutes. If you could break it down, she probably had less than thirty seconds to make a decision. Her notes are written by the attending physician and verbally recorded. I not only looked at the accident reports—police, paramedic, fire and rescue—but the postmortem reports. And I must tell you, the entire scene must have been horrific, and yet the record is not only flawless, it is flawlessly consistent. The only report lacking in this vast collection of documentation is a blood test done on the emergency room and operating room staff to measure drug or alcohol use. It was not done because there was no indication. Fifteen emergency room and operating room employees were deposed and under oath stated that the physicians in question appeared rested, sober and efficient.
“I pored over all of this detailed information and yet the most telling and crucial fact came down to a single number—the time of death. Rory Busch in the operating room and Carl Markiff in radiology for a CT both expired ten minutes after arriving in the emergency room at the exact same time. Well, resuscitation began on both patients at exactly the same time and continued for several minutes. Their injuries and cause of death were nearly identical as well—both died of head injuries that led to massive brain hemorrhage. This fact alone made it physically impossible for Dr. Sullivan to make either choice work, although the testimony of the staff establishes that her decision to take the unconscious lad to surgery first is indeed protocol.