Craig became aware of a huff of displeasure from Randolph as Tony used his last preemptory strike to remove a nattily dressed nursing-home administrator. Randolph 's elegant finger tapped with displeasure against his yellow legal pad. Seemingly in retribution, Randolph then struck the waif in the oversized sweatshirt. Two more individuals were then called from the jury pool and sworn, and the questions continued.
Leaning over toward his lawyer, Craig asked in a whisper what he needed to do to use the restroom. His hypervigilant colon was responding to his anxiety. Randolph assured him it wasn't a problem and that he should just indicate the need as he was now doing. Craig nodded and pushed back his chair. It was humiliating to sense all eyes upon him as he exited the bar through the gate. The only person he acknowledged was Alexis. With everyone else he avoided eye contact.
The men's room was old-fashioned and reeked of stale urine. Craig wasted no time getting into a stall to avoid any contact with several suspicious-looking unshaven men loitering by the sinks and conversing in hushed voices. With its graffitied walls, its marble mosaic floor in disrepair, and the disagreeable odor, the men's room seemed symbolic of Craig's current life, and with his digestive system behaving as it was, he was afraid he'd be making frequent visits to its unpleasant surroundings during the course of the trial.
With a piece of toilet paper, he wiped the seat. After he'd sat down, he thought again of Leona's deposition, and although it had been possibly the worst deposition in regard to its potential impact on the case's outcome, it hadn't been the worst from a purely emotional point of view. That dubious honor belonged to both his own deposition and those of Tony Fasano's experts. To Craig's dismay,
Tony had had no trouble getting local area experts to agree to testify and the lineup was impressive. All were people he knew and admired and who knew him. First to be deposed was the cardiologist who'd helped with the resuscitation attempt. Her name was Dr. Madeline Mardy. Second was Dr. William Tardoff, chief of cardiology at Newton Memorial Hospital, and third, and most distressing for Craig, was Dr. Herman Brown, chief of cardiology at Boston Memorial Hospital and chair of cardiology at Harvard Medical School. All three testified that the first minutes after a heart attack were the most crucial in terms of survival. They also concurred that it was common knowledge that it was absolutely key to get the patient to a hospital facility as expeditiously as possible and that any delay was unconscionable. Although all were dismissive of the idea of making a house call in the face of a suspected myocardial infarction, Randolph made all of them state that they believed Craig did not know for certain the patient's diagnosis before arriving at her bedside. Randolph had also gotten two of the three to state on the record that they were impressed by Craig's willingness to make a house call no matter what the diagnosis.
Randolph had not been as troubled by the experts' depositions as Craig, and took them in stride. The reason they bothered Craig so much was that the doctors were respected colleagues. Craig took their willingness to testify for the plaintiff as an overt criticism of his reputation as a physician. This was especially true for Dr. Herman Brown, whom Craig had had as a preceptor in medical school and as an attending during his residency. It was Dr. Brown's criticism and disapproval that cut Craig to the quick, especially since Craig had gotten such approbation from the same individual when Craig had been a student. To make matters worse, Craig had been unable to get any local colleague to testify on his behalf.
As upsetting as Craig found the experts' depositions, his own deposition had been far more disturbing. He'd even judged it the single most irksome and distressing experience in his life to date, especially since Tony Fasano had stretched the session out for two grueling days like a kind of filibuster. Randolph had to a degree anticipated Craig's difficulties and had tried to coach him. He'd advised Craig to hesitate after a question in case an objection was appropriate, to think for a moment about the ramifications of a question before answering, to take his time answering, to avoid offering anything not asked, and above all not to appear arrogant, and not to get into an argument. He'd said he couldn't be more specific, since he'd never opposed Tony Fasano in the past, mainly because it was apparently Tony's first foray into the malpractice arena from his usual personal-injury specialty.
The deposition had taken place in Randolph 's posh 50 State Street office with its stunning view over Boston Harbor. Initially, Tony had been reasonable, not quite pleasant but certainly not confrontational. That was the playground entertainer persona. He'd even persisted in cracking a few off-the-record jokes, although only the court reporter had giggled. But the entertainer persona soon disappeared, to be replaced by the bully. As he began to hammer and accuse, about Craig's professional and private life in humiliating detail, Craig's weak defenses began to crumble. Randolph objected when he could, even tried to suggest recess at several junctures, but Craig had gotten to the point where he would not hear of it. Despite being warned against anger, Craig had gotten angry, very angry, and then proceeded to violate all of Randolph 's admonitions and ignore all recommendations. The worst exchange happened in the early afternoon of the second day. Even though Randolph had again warned Craig about losing control during lunch and Craig had promised to follow his advice, Craig quickly fell into the same trap under the onslaught of Tony's preposterous allegations.
"Wait a second!" Craig had snapped. "Let me tell you something."
"Please," Tony had retorted. "I'm all ears."
"I've made some mistakes in my professional life. All doctors have. But Patience Stanhope was not one of them! No way!"
"Really?" Tony had questioned superciliously. "What do you mean by 'mistakes'?"
"I think it wise if we take a break here," Randolph had said, trying to intervene.
"I don't need a goddamned break," Craig shouted. "I want this asshole to understand just for a second what it's like to be a doctor: to be the one right there in the front-line trenches with sick people as well as hypochondriacs."
"But our goal is not to educate Mr. Fasano," Randolph had said. "It doesn't matter what he believes."
"Mistakes are when you do something stupid," Craig had said, ignoring Randolph and leaning forward to get his face closer to Tony's, "like cutting a corner when you're exhausted and have ten more patients to see, or forgetting to order a test when you know it's indicated because you had an intervening emergency."
"Or like making a stupid house call instead of meeting a seriously ill patient who was struggling to breathe at the hospital so you could get to the symphony on time?"
The sound of the outer men's room door slamming brought Craig back to the present. Hoping his lower intestine would stay quiescent for the rest of the morning, he finished up, pulled on his suit jacket, and went out to wash his hands. As he did so, he looked at himself in the mirror. He winced at his reflection. His appearance now was markedly worse than it had been before he started at the gym, and he didn't see much chance for improvement in the near future with the trial just getting under way. It was going to be a long, stressful week, especially considering his disastrous performance at his deposition. Immediately after the debacle, he hadn't needed Randolph to tell him how miserably he'd performed, although Randolph was gracious enough merely to suggest that they needed to practice prior to his testifying at the trial. Before Craig had left Randolph 's office that day Craig had pulled Randolph aside and looked him in the eye. "There is something I want you to know," he'd said insistently. "I have made mistakes, as I told Fasano, even though I've tried my damnedest to be a good doctor. But I didn't make a mistake with Patience Stanhope. There was no negligence."