Inadvertent Disclosure (23 page)

Justice Bermann spoke before
Braeburn had a chance to ask for redirect. “Excellent. We are adhering nicely
to our schedule. Call your expert, Ms. McCandless, and let’s keep this ball
rolling, shall we?”

Braeburn was too busy
whispering furiously with his red-faced client to ask the judge for any leeway,
so Sasha motioned with her head for Dr. Kayser to hurry up and take the seat
Dr. Spangler had just vacated.

“The defendant calls Dr. Alvin
Kayser.”

The simple country doctor
grabbed her four-hundred-dollar couture handbag and stormed out of the room
while the chief justice administered the oath to Dr. Kayser.

A weary Braeburn stipulated to
the gerontologist’s qualifications as an expert in geriatric medicine. It was a
concession that Sasha wouldn’t normally want nor ask for, even at a bench
hearing. Judges were, after all, people, and people were impressed by a long
string of medical credentials. Dr. Kayser’s were more impressive than most,
and, ordinarily, Sasha would have loved to have trotted out every award,
certification, and publication to his name. But, she didn’t have that kind of
time.

She got to the point as soon as
he’d settled in his chair.

“Dr. Kayser, can you tell us
what method you employ to determine if someone is incapacitated?”

“Certainly. First, I perform a
complete physical examination, including extensive blood work. Typically, I’d
be looking for changes in the patient’s health that either could cause
incapacitation or could result from it. That sounds convoluted; would you like
an example?”

He was a pro, Sasha thought. He
got out in front of the confusing matter right away, with no prompting.

“Please.”

He fell into his rhythm. “An
obvious example of a condition that could render a person incapacitated is
Alzheimer’s Disease, mid-stage or later. An example of a condition that might
be caused by a patient’s incapacitation would be diabetic ketoacidosis in a
patient whose diabetes had been controlled by insulin but who, as result of
dementia-related forgetfulness, has stopped taking insulin or eating a proper
diet.”

“What would your next step be?”

“Next, I would administer a
mini mental state examination or MMSE to screen for cognitive impairment. If
the patient’s score on the MMSE indicated mild to moderate impairment, I would
gather additional psychosocial information and perform a safety assessment of
the patient’s home. Based on all that information, I would determine whether
there were services that could be provided to support the patient, despite the
impairment.”

He paused and took one of the
clear plastic cups stacked by Jed’s bedside. He picked up the water pitcher,
poured himself a drink, and took a sip.

Then he said, “Obviously, a
severely impaired person, such as someone in advanced late-stage Alzheimer’s
Disease would not be able to care for himself or herself, regardless of the
level of support available. But, in most cases involving even moderate
impairment, in my experience, complete guardianship is not warranted.”

 “Did you evaluate Mr.
Craybill?”

“Yes. Last Thursday, I visited
Mr. Craybill in his home and performed a physical and MMSE. The results of the
physical indicated that he was in relatively good health, and he scored 29 out
of a possible 30 points on the MMSE, which indicated no cognitive impairment.
His home was clean and well-maintained. He was cogent and engaged. In my
opinion, as a board-certified geriatric specialist, he was not, at that time,
incapacitated in the least.”

Sasha steeled herself and asked
the question. “What’s your opinion of his current condition?”

“Sadly, he is currently not
capable of making medical or other decisions. He appears to be disoriented,
confused, and incoherent, at times.”

“How could such a precipitous
decline occur in a week?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say. I
would need to examine him and run some tests, which I am told Dr. Spangler has
forbidden—”

“Objection!”  Braeburn was on
his feet in a flash. “Hearsay, your honor.”

“Sustained,” came the ruling
from the phone.

“I’’ll rephrase. To your
knowledge did Dr. Brown order any tests at intake?”

“Yes.”

“Were those tests ultimately
performed?”

“No, they were not.”

“In your opinion, should they
have been?”

Dr. Kayser leaned forward and
said, “Without a doubt.”

Good enough.

“Now, previously, did Mr.
Craybill tell you he was looking for a new doctor?”

“Objection. Hearsay.”

“It’s not being offered for the
truth of the matter asserted, your honor, but to show Mr. Craybill’s state of
mind.”

Hearsay was the biggest
evidentiary hurdle in most trials. Neither side could introduce an
out-court-statement to prove the truth of the statement. There were, however,
several exceptions to the hearsay rule. Some of them deemed an out-of-court
statement to not be hearsay under certain circumstances; some of them permitted
the admission of hearsay statements for limited purposes if the speaker was
unavailable to testify in court; and some of them permitted the admission of
such statements regardless of whether the speaker was unavailable.

Sasha had learned early in her
career that most attorneys were terrified of looking like idiots with regard to
hearsay, so she had simply memorized all of the exceptions and key cases that
set them forth. Knock a guy down on hearsay a few times early in a trial and
he’d think twice about objecting again. It was the same principle she applied
to self-defense: make the first punches count.

“Mr. Braeburn?” Justice Bermann
prompted her opponent.

“Your honor, um . . .,”
Braeburn was thinking hard.

Sasha could guess what was
coming and tried to keep her smile at bay.

Braeburn walked right into the
trap she’d sprung. “Even if Mr. Craybill said that, the statement is
inadmissible because it is irrelevant. There’s nothing to suggest he did
ultimately switch doctors.”

“Ms. McCandless.”

“Under the Hillmon Doctrine,
your honor, a statement of intent is a present mental state and relevant to
show the intent was carried out.”

The chief justice’s amusement
was evident in his tone. “Hillmon, eh?”

“Yes, your honor, the United
States Supreme Court ruled in Mutual Life Insurance Company of New York v.
Hillmon that a declaration of intention is credible evidence of that intention
and, as such, is admissible as an exception to hearsay.”

“Refresh my recollection; what
year was that case decided?”

“1892, your honor.”

“This court isn’t about to
ignore a hundred-plus years of precedent. The objection is overruled.”

Sasha nodded at Dr. Kayser to
answer the question.

“Yes. He was furious at Dr.
Spangler for initiating the incapacitation proceeding. He asked me if I would
take him on as a patient. I was willing, but I expressed concerns because my
practice is in Pittsburgh, which is a good distance from here. I told him I
would see if I could associate with a hospital up this way. He said that
regardless of whether I began treating him, he was not going to see Dr.
Spangler again.”

“Did you officially accept him
as a patient?”

Dr. Kayser spread his hands
wide, “I can’t answer that. It’s not like being a lawyer, where there’s a
formal process for a client to leave and find new representation. Some patients
immediately transfer their medical records, others may make the decision to
leave a doctor’s practice but take no overt action until they need to make an
appointment with a new doctor. If Mr. Craybill had called my office seeking an
appointment, my staff would have given him one.”

“As a gerontologist, you’ve had
patients who have been deemed incapacitated, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Have you ever done what Dr.
Spangler did—report your concerns about a patient to a county agency?”

“Have I ever determined a
patient to be incapacitated and without support, then reported it to the
appropriate service agency?  Yes, I have. Have I ever made that determination
solely on the basis of a chance meeting in a parking lot? Certainly not.”

“Have you ever served as
guardian for one of your patients?”

“No, I have not. Nor would I.”

He was a dream witness. Having
had no opportunity to prep him beforehand, she had to rely on his instincts and
experience as an expert to understand where she was headed and follow her
there. But, he was a step ahead of her.

“Why is that?”

“In my view, it would be
unethical for me to deprive someone of his decision-making power and then take
control of that power myself. It could too easily lead to abuse.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kayser.” Sasha
turned to Braeburn. “Your witness.”

“Dr. Kayser, I have only one
question for you.”

The doctor, having been
cross-examined more than a few times before, raised an eyebrow in open
disbelief.

Braeburn chuckled. “Well,
depending on your answer, there might be one or two more. But, let’s start
here: you do not have privileges to practices at this hospital, do you,
doctor?”

“Well, no. I suspect I could
easily—”

“You’ve answered my question.
Dr. Spangler does have privileges, correct?”

“I don’t know firsthand, but I
would imagine she does.”

“Mr. Craybill needs care right
now, doesn’t he?”

“He does, indeed. But Dr.
Spangler has apparently instructed—”

“Again, doctor. You’ve answered
my question. Now, you testified about the steps you took to arrive at your
opinion that, as of last week, Mr. Craybill was not incapacitated, did you
not?”

“I did.”

“You also testified that, in
your view, Mr. Craybill is now, in his current state, incapacitated, correct?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Kayser shot Sasha a look.
She gave him a half-shrug, glad the judge couldn’t see her. She knew where
Braeburn was going with this line of questioning, but she didn’t see a way to
stop it.

“Now, did you examine Mr.
Craybill this evening, give him an MMSE, or inquire into his social support
systems this evening?”

“No, of course not. He’s not
lucid.”

“But, even without having
taking any of those steps, you were willing to testify under oath that Mr.
Craybill is incapacitated now?”

Dr. Kayser sighed heavily and
stared at Braeburn. “Correct.”

“Thank you, doctor. That’s all
I have.”

“And I’m ready to rule,”
Justice Bermann informed them.

Sasha and Braeburn took a step
closer to the telephone and stared down at it. Jed’s chest rose and fell in an
even pattern as he slept. Dr. Kayser sat attentively, like a school child, and
waited. As if on cue, Dr. Spangler slipped back into the room and stood against
the wall.

“I find that Mr. Craybill is
incapacitated and needs to have a court-appointed guardian. I have grave
reservations about the potential conflict of appointing Dr. Spangler.
Similarly, I find credible Dr. Kayser’s testimony that Mr. Craybill intended
for Dr. Kayser to be his physician going forward, but as Dr. Kayser himself
noted, it would be unethical for him to serve as the guardian for one of his
patients. Accordingly, I appoint the emergency room physician who admitted Mr.
Craybill as his temporary guardian. What was the doctor’s name?”

“Brown,” Sasha said. “Sam
Brown.”

“Thank you. Dr. Brown has
decision-making authority for Mr. Craybill until his condition changes and
someone petitions the court, by which I mean Judge Canaby, to modify this order
in the ordinary course. Good night, counselors. And good night, Dr. Spangler
and Dr. Kayser. The court thanks you for your time.” He ended the call without
further niceties.

CHAPTER 34

Sasha told herself half a loaf
was better than none. At least Dr. Spangler hadn’t been named Jed’s guardian.
But, this didn’t feel like half a loaf. If felt more like the bread heel—the
nasty, crusty heel that her brothers would leave in the wrapper growing up and
their mother would dutifully toast and eat with her morning tea. A crummy heel.

She paced along the long
hallway, trying to shake off her disbelief that Justice Bermann hadn’t ruled in
her favor. Dr. Kayser overtook her a third of the way down the hallway.

“Sasha, I’m sorry. I walked
into that, but it’s true. I don’t think a treating physician should be the
guardian. At least he didn’t name Dr. Spangler.” His kind eyes wrinkled with
concern that he’d let her down.

“Don’t be sorry, Dr. Kayser.
You told the truth. But, don’t you see?”

“See what?”  He stared at her
in confusion.

“If Dr. Brown is the guardian,
he can’t be the treating physician, per the judge’s order. You don’t have
privileges here. That leaves guess who as the treating physician.”

Understanding spread across his
face. “Dr. Spangler.”

She just nodded. Any victory
they’d achieved was Pyrrhic. Not only was Dr. Kayser out in the cold, but with
the incapacitation issue decided, she presumably was no longer authorized to
represent Jed. She felt tired. Tired and defeated.

His expression reflected the
same emotions briefly, then he perked up. “But, what I was starting to tell you
before the hearing. I took the liberty—”

He stopped mid-sentence as
Connelly came toward them, running full out, and skidded to a stop beside them.

“Gloria’s had a heart attack,”
he said, catching his breath.

Sasha felt tears pricking at
her eyes. What next?

Ashamed to let Kayser and
Connelly see her cry, Sasha bowed her head and hung back as Connelly led them
to the cardiac care unit.

Connelly and Kayser had just
entered the stairway, headed down a flight of stairs, when her cell phone rang.

She backed out of the doorway
and leaned against the wall to check her display. Justice Bermann was calling.
Sasha never thought she’d see the day she received a call from the Chief
Justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, let alone the day she contemplated
letting that call roll in to voice-mail.

She thought about it for three
rings before deciding she didn’t have the nerve.

“Your honor.”

“Counselor.”

She waited and listened to his
even intake and exhale as he thought something over.

Finally, he said, “I realize
this call is highly unusual. It has nothing to do with your incapacitation
matter. I—I need to know if you’re truly satisfied with the investigation into
Harry’s . . . Judge Paulson’s death. Please.”

His slip of the tongue—using
Judge Paulson’s nickname so familiarly—and the break in his voice forced her to
tell him the truth.

“No, your honor, I’m not. I
have good reason to believe the suspect the sheriff identified publicly is a
dead end. Something else is going on. It’s like a web up here, sir. Everyone
and everything seems to be entangled and interconnected. I haven’t yet gotten
my arms around the hows or whys.”

“A web.”

There was a long pause, then he
said, “The last time I spoke to Judge Paulson, on Sunday, he told me he felt
like a fly being eyed by a fat spider. Two days later he was dead.”

He spoke softly, talking more
to himself than to her.

Then, his voice regained its
timbre. “I’m authorizing you to unofficially reopen your investigation into
Judge Paulson’s death.”

“Unofficially?”

“Yes. If you believe there’s a
cover up or conspiracy or what have you going on, then look into it. But, do it
quietly. And carefully. Don’t involve the sheriff’s office. You’ll report to
me, privately, and not to the attorney general. Do you understand?”

Oh, she understood. She
understood this was a spectacularly bad idea.

He was asking her to poke
around with no true authority, no support from the attorney general’s office,
and no backup from local law enforcement if anything went wrong.

She also understood that she
lacked the ability to look at a bad—potentially dangerous—situation that
involved her only tangentially, if at all, and decide it wasn’t her place to
get involved. She hadn’t been able to walk away from the plane crash the
previous year, and here she was again, about to walk headlong into some mess.

What she should do, she
thought, was just swear the man to secrecy, tell him about Agent Stock, and
make the whole thing his problem.

Instead, she said, “I do.”

“I thank you. Harrison Paulson
was a good jurist and a good man.” He hung up without waiting for a response.

She slipped the phone back into
her pocket and took the stairs down one flight and emerged into a hallway
identical to the one she’d just left. She wandered around until she found an
orderly who pointed her to the coronary care unit and Gloria’s room.

Gloria lay in a bed, its head
elevated so that she appeared to be sitting. A breathing tube was taped to her
nose and a monitor beeped out her heart rate. With her glasses off and her eyes
closed, she looked younger and vulnerable.

Jonas sat at her side, straddling
a metal chair backward, both of his hands wrapped around those of his wife. His
eyes were distant and disbelieving. Behind him, Deputy Russell rocked on his
heels, looking everywhere in the room except at his coworker. Connelly and Dr.
Kayser stood a respectful distance away, leaning against the room’s one long
window.

Sasha walked straight to Jonas
and crouched beside his chair. “What happened?” she asked, resting a hand on
his knee.

She surprised herself with the
gesture but he seemed to welcome it.

He shook his head slowly. “She
was getting the kids’ rooms ready for them. You know, they were coming in for
the memorial service. I walked by and she was leaning against the door frame.
Clutching her chest. Said she couldn’t catch her breath. I called Dr. Spangler
and she told us to come straight to the hospital. I can’t believe it. A heart
attack.”

He stroked Gloria’s hand
absently while he spoke.

Sasha squeezed his knee, then
turned her head to give him some privacy. She stood and gestured for the others
to follow her into the hallway. They huddled against the wall and talked in low
hushed tones.

“How bad is it?” Sasha asked,
directing the question to Dr. Kayser.

“You just missed Dr. Spangler,”
he answered. “She seems to think it was a minor myocardial infarction. Probably
stress induced. Prognosis for a full recovery is good.”

The door opened, and Jonas
peered out at them.

“She’s awake,” he said. “She’d
like to speak to Sasha.”

He slid through the opening and
held the door for her. “The kids are on their way. Linnea went to pick up Luke
at the airport. Try not to wear her out, okay?”

“Of course,” Sasha said,
ducking under his arm to enter the room.

Gloria had managed to prop
herself up with the flat hospital-issue pillows and was patting her hair down
when Sasha walked in.

“I must look a sight,” she
said. “Can you hand me my glasses?”

Sasha took the glasses from the
bedside table and unfolded the arms. She placed them on Gloria’s nose and
adjusted the earpieces behind her ears.

“Ah, that’s better. Thanks.” Gloria
blinked a few times behind the lenses.

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. Scared.”

“You gave everyone a scare.”

Gloria nodded. “Listen, the
kids will be here soon. Did you have a chance to try out my recipes?”

She peered at Sasha over the
glasses, searching for a reaction.

“Not yet. We were about to,
when I got the call about Jed.”

Gloria wrinkled her brow. “What
about Jed?”

“He’s here, too. One floor up.
Gavin Russell stopped by his house and found him in bad shape. Confused,
dehydrated—they don’t know exactly what’s wrong yet.”

The older woman nodded.
“Goodness. It’s a lucky thing Gavin happened by.”

“It is,” Sasha agreed. “I
wonder what he was doing out that way?”

“Probably he went out to see
his folks,” Gloria said, half to herself.

“His folks?”

“Oh yes, the Russells are Jed’s
closest neighbors.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Now, Jed doesn’t have
much use for Mikey and Rita Russell, what with all the disagreements they’ve
had about them leasing their land to the frackers, but Gavin will usually check
on Jed when he’s out that way. Good people, the Russells.”

Sasha filed the nugget of
information away for later. She needed to get the story behind the tape before
Luke and Linnea arrived to see their mother.

“About your recipe. Did you . .
. try it?”

Gloria picked at the sheet
tucked over her chest with a nervous bird-like motion. “No. I wasn’t sure what
to do with it. I thought you should have it, though.”

Sasha dropped the coded speech.
“It’s crime scene evidence. How’d you get it?”

Gloria closed her eyes and
leaned back against the pillows.

She was so still Sasha thought
she had drifted off to sleep, but after a minute she opened her eyes and said,
“It’s like I told you. When I knocked on the door and the judge didn’t answer,
I went in. At first, I didn’t realize what happened. I saw the papers
fluttering on his desk and realized the window was broken. Then I saw . . .
him. On the floor. His face was, well, part of it was missing and there was so
much blood. I knelt beside him. To see if he was alive.”

Her chest heaved and the
monitor beside her began to bleat with increased urgency.

Sasha took her hand. “Gloria,
please, stay calm. Breathe. Please.”

She worked to keep the urgency
out of her voice, but her own chest tightened.

Gloria swallowed and nodded.
“I’m okay,” she said, although the monitor continued to beep louder and faster.

“The tape recorder was still in
his hand, like I said. But, I lied about not touching it. I can’t explain what
made me do it—I honestly can’t—but I just reached in and popped out the
cassette and put it in my pocket. Then, I called Sheriff Stickley.” She widened
her eyes. “Am I in trouble?”

Probably, Sasha thought.

“Let’s not get ahead of
ourselves, okay?  I’ll listen to the tape and we’ll take it from there.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Gloria relaxed into the
pillows. Her face was gray and drawn, but the monitor had returned to a steady,
reassuring pace.