WRONGFUL DEATH
The AIDS Trial
A Novel by
Stephen Davis
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2006, 2010 by L & G Productions, LLC
Chapter One
October, 2011
“Grayson, please eat your cereal.”
Sarah tries to help her seven-year-old by putting a spoon filled with something that slightly resembles oatmeal into his hand and guiding it toward his mouth. Grayson only clamps his lips tighter and turns his head away until she gives up, hands him the spoon, and goes back to the counter to finish making lunches.
“And Peyton, you have to eat something.”
“I told you, I can’t eat in the morning, Mom. I’m already too fat! And please tell Grayson to close his mouth when he eats.” The eleven-year-old shoots a nasty look at her younger brother. “That’s disgusting!”
Grayson takes another spoonful of cereal, puts it in his mouth, looks directly at his sister, opens wide and lets some more dribble out onto his chin. Then he smiles with that devilish look in his eyes.
“Mom, he’s doing it again!” It isn’t a whine from Peyton as much as a plea for help.
“Grayson, stop it please…and eat your cereal, don’t play with it.”
Matthew, the oldest at thirteen, finally shows up for breakfast, sees his little brother spewing cereal out of his mouth like a volcano and gives him a gentle slap across the top of the head to try to make him stop.
“Mom, just once can’t we have bacon and eggs, or waffles, or anything that normal people have for breakfast? Do we always have to eat so…healthy?” Matthew knows he isn’t going to get an answer, or if he does, it would be the same one he always gets to that question. Peyton doesn’t wait for a response either.
“Mom, can you take me to get my piercing this afternoon?”
“Oh, Peanut, I’m sorry. Probably not today.” Sarah winces at the disappointment that makes its way across Peyton’s face, overshadowing her normally cheerful and captivating smile. “I just can’t promise anything today. I doubt it…I might have to be in court all day.”
Sarah puts down the almond butter knife for a moment and looks out her oversized kitchen window into the perfectly manicured desert garden. It’s hard to tell whether she’s frustrated, confused, anxious, or simply thinking about the big day ahead.
“Bill, is that coffee ready yet? I really need…”
Before she can finish, Bill reaches around her with a full cup, putting it gently into her right hand and kissing her on the cheek at the same time, whispering in her ear, “It’s a big day for you. Good luck!”
Sarah turns and kisses him back, blows away the steam rising from the cup, and then carefully takes a sip.
“Thanks.”
She glances at her watch.
“Oh, my God. I just can’t be late today! Kids, please help me out.”
Bill takes the knife from her hand, unties her apron, and starts shooing her out of the kitchen.
“We’ll be fine. This is important, so you go, now. I can finish their lunches.” When Sarah resists, he insists. “Go ahead, get out of here. The kids and I will manage somehow.”
Sarah takes a long look at Bill to make sure he’s serious, then kisses him again. “Kids, your father is in charge. I’ll see everyone tonight…love you.”
Sarah tidies her hair in the hall mirror, puts on her suit coat, grabs her briefcase and keys, and punches a button on the wall as she enters the garage. She glances back at Bill one last time, who waves her on before the door closes between them. She then lowers herself into the driver’s seat of her top-down Chrysler Sebring convertible.
Clearly, Sarah Meadows doesn’t have to work. Her husband, Dr. William Meadows, is a very successful chiropractor who makes all the money they need, and then some. Their Scottsdale home is top-of-the-line, all three kids go to the right schools, and Sarah could stay at home and play mom fulltime if she wanted.
But she doesn’t want. She’s an intelligent and very capable woman with two degrees: Journalism and Alternative Health. She feels like there is a contribution she can make, and wants to make, beyond that of being a really good mom. Her weekly column for the Arizona Tribune, Health Matters, fulfills and completes her in a way her husband and family simply couldn’t; and rather than feel guilty about it, she feels blessed to be able to have it all.
Except today. Today she feels more stressed than blessed. This is without a doubt the biggest assignment she’s ever had.
Sarah turns on the radio as she heads south on the Squaw Peak Parkway into the center of Phoenix. Suite: Judy Blue Eyes is just ending. She turns up the volume.
“David Crosby, Steven Stills, and Graham Nash…live from Woodstock, 1969 on your best Oldies station, 95.4. Keep it right here while we go to our Eye in the Sky. Roger, what’s the traffic like this morning?”
“Pretty typical morning, Stan...slow moving on I-17 southbound into the city, especially as you approach the I-10 interchange. Superstition Freeway backed up westbound starting at the 101 exchange. 51 South okay except for a car stalled in the right lane at Bethany Home. And we have some accidents to report on surface streets, one at Camelback and 7th....”
Sarah punches a button on the radio to find a news station.
“...don't know exactly what to expect. Maybe a month, maybe two, depending...”
A voice she recognizes interrupts, “Do you at least expect them to finish both opening arguments today?”
Sarah assumes some paid legal expert is offering his opinion on the hottest story to hit Phoenix in quite a while, other than the weather. “That's hard to say. We still don't know what the defense has in mind. After all, this is the biggest trial in history, with a 3 trillion dollar price tag, and not since Richard Nixon in the 1970’s have top government officials been involved in such litigation. I think we better expect some surprises, and definitely lots of posturing, which may start in just a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Jeff. That was Jeff Manning here in Atlanta. I’m told we have Joseph Schell standing by at the Federal Courthouse in Phoenix. Joe, have the attorneys started to arrive yet?”
“It looks like the defense team has just pulled up and is starting to get out of their limos. I'm going to try to make my way through this mob and see if I can get a statement. Hold on for a second, will you...”
The sound on the radio turns to confusion, people shouting in the background. Schell’s voice is barely audible above the din, with bits and pieces coming through, “out of the way, please…look out…GNN radio, coming through...”
And then silence as Sarah turns off the car, having found one of the few empty parking spaces left within walking distance. She hurries toward the spectacular new, ultra-modern, 127 million dollar Federal Courthouse building at 401 West Washington Street, named in honor of Sandra Day O’Connor, an Arizonan and the first female Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court.
As she rounds the corner she comes face to face with a mob scene only hinted at on the radio. Parked at the curb are three stretch limousines surrounded by news reporters from every kind of media from every part of the world. TV cameras and microphones are literally everywhere, most of them now pointing toward a dozen men who obviously just exited the limos and are trying to make their way to the courthouse entrance. The rest of the block is packed with demonstrators, crowds of people from both sides of the issue carrying signs and angrily hurling accusations at each other. The impact of the sound stops Sarah dead in her tracks, as if she had run into a wall.
While everyone else is focused outside, Sarah gets her body moving again and makes her way around the back of the mob and into the Courthouse. What’s going on out there is really not of much interest to her. It’s what’s going to happen next, in here, she says to herself. She knows how lucky she is to have a ringside seat, being a lowly health reporter. But as the hometown newspaper, the Arizona Tribune has just enough seats allocated in the courtroom to include her in the main event.
Her watch says she still has a couple minutes before the bell, so she ducks into the ladies’ room. As she’s washing her hands, she stares into the mirror, adjusts a misplaced strand of red hair, and tries to ignore the early signs of crow’s-feet. Not bad for going on forty, she thinks.
Chapter Two
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Benjamin Messick. I am the attorney for the plaintiffs. We are the ones who brought this class action suit against the defendants.”
Benjamin Messick is at the lawyers’ lectern, situated between the plaintiffs’ and defendants’ tables in the center of the courtroom, addressing the jury seated in their box to his right. Well-groomed, with hair reminiscent of John Kennedy, he’s in his mid-thirties and obviously works out regularly. Although on the shorter side in height, his voice is strong and deep with an underlying tone of sincerity that begs to be believed, and it would be difficult for any juror not to like this man or, at a minimum, listen carefully to what he has to say.
At least, that’s Sarah’s impression as she sits near the back of the courtroom. She takes a minute to look around at this very creative, circular structure used mostly for swearing in new American citizens, ceremonial proceedings, and an occasional appeals hearing. But it is also the perfect venue for large, high profile trials like this one, with its state-of-the-art audio, video and digital capabilities. A glass cylinder one-hundred feet in diameter and one-hundred feet high starting on the second floor of the Federal Courthouse and reaching all the way to the top of the building, this Special Proceedings Courtroom is paneled ten-feet high all around with Anigre wood from Africa and capped with a million dollar suspended glass ceiling that costs $4000 just to clean. Sarah heard that window washers have to crawl across the top of the laminated glass with towels and window spray.
The biggest problem is the lack of adequate space for spectators, especially for a case that is drawing as much attention as this one. Every media in the world wants a seat, and therefore all six district courtrooms on the fifth floor of the Federal Courthouse were converted to closed-circuit coverage that will be different from the live TV feed to commercial stations. This allows a reporter to be there in the courthouse, see everything that goes on, and still be able to participate in the typical press conferences that will undoubtedly occur on the steps leading down from the Special Proceedings Courtroom into the huge atrium on the ground floor of the building.
Fortunately, it’s October, and the temperature is not that hot, because the heating and cooling system in the atrium hasn’t worked right from the very beginning. Inspired by the misting system at a Hooter’s Restaurant in Phoenix, the architect decided to use the same concept to keep summer temperatures down in the new courthouse. As one reporter put it, “What we got for our money was a giant atrium that is hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It would have been cheaper, more comfortable, and a lot more interesting to hold court at Hooters!”
Sarah’s attention returns quickly to Messick, who is laying the foundation for his case.
“First, this is a class action suit. That means that we are suing on behalf of a lot of people, not just one. In fact, we intend to prove to you that at least 300,000 Americans, mostly young men, died as a result of what the defendants did in a ten year period from 1987 to 1997.” He looks up from his notes, and slowly and with emphasis, punches his next line. “300,000 young men and women died in that decade. That's five times the number that was killed in the entire Vietnam War.”
There’s no doubt the jury is getting his point, even though some of them are too young to remember that tragic conflict. He makes a good presentation, Sarah thinks. She also knows he has the attention of the millions of people around the country watching the trial on TV, for Judge Watts could not have kept this trial off the tube even if she wanted to. From New York to San Francisco, from Miami to Maine, estimates were that as many people in the U.S. were watching the opening day of this trial as watched the Super Bowl last year, despite the fact that it was being aired live during mid-day work hours, East Coast time. Pre-trial hype had done its job, but Messick seems to be unperturbed by it all.
“The hardest thing we had to do next was determine what a human life is worth. Imagine trying to do that yourself. What would your life be worth to you, and to your loved ones left behind? A million dollars? Ten million dollars? One hundred million? Whatever number we came up with would be somewhat arbitrary. But from previous lawsuits and insurance actuarial tables in the United States, we settled on the amount of ten million dollars for one human life, lost forever. Does ten million dollars seem like a lot? Well, it won't, I don't think, when I show you exactly how these defendants,” pointing to the men seated at the table to his right, between him and the jury, “took forty, often fifty years of life from these victims and their families. Most of the young men who died were in their twenties or thirties – the prime of life, as we like to call it. Yes, I firmly believe you will decide that that is worth at least ten million dollars.”
Messick looks around the jury box to see what kind of response he’s getting so far. When he decides they’re with him, he continues.
“From there it was pretty simple math, although the numbers were large. Ten million dollars times 300,000 deaths. That's 3 trillion dollars. Not million, not billion, but trillion. And that's one reason this is the biggest trial in history.” Messick pauses for effect.
“But there's another reason: the defendants themselves,” and he again points to the defendants’ table, packed with suits. “You see at that table a former employee of the National Institutes of Health, Dr. Robert Gallo, the man who once claimed he discovered the cause of AIDS. Alongside him is a lawyer representing the Department of Health and Human Services of the United States government. And then there is another lawyer representing the Food and Drug Administration, the FDA. And beside him is a lawyer representing a private drug company called GlaxoSmithKline, which used to be known as Burroughs Wellcome. But this is not just any drug company; this is one of the richest drug companies in the world. What do all of these defendants have in common? They were the main figures in the medical disaster that resulted in the deaths of 300,000 young Americans, who died, according to their diagnosis, from AIDS.”
It didn’t take long for Messick to get to the point, Sarah thought. And why not? Everyone knows the issues in this trial, and there’s no reason to avoid going straight for the jugular. Messick once again focuses on the jury.
“We will prove to you that these 300,000 men and women were misdiagnosed based on the incompetence and negligence of, primarily, Dr. Robert Gallo and the Department of Health and Human Services, which then led to the improper approval of a drug called AZT by the Food and Drug Administration; which then led to the manufacture and distribution of the drug AZT by the drug company at that time called Burroughs Wellcome. We will then prove that AZT was inappropriately but intentionally given to these 300,000 young men and women, and that it was the AZT and nothing else that caused these victims to develop AIDS and die.”
Messick pauses to give that time to sink in. He sees a couple of the jurors look at each other with raised eyebrows. This is obviously the first time any of them has been exposed to this idea, and he decides that he needs to repeat that just to make sure they got it. “Yes, you heard me correctly. We are going to show you that the vast majority of deaths from AIDS in this country from 1987 to 1997 were caused by taking the very drug that was supposed to treat AIDS and not from the virus called HIV.”
There’s a strange, almost sickening feeling in Sarah’s stomach, as if she were about to vomit. Must have been the day-old scone she ate driving downtown. I should take as good care of me as I do Bill and the kids, she reminds herself. She knows, of course, that Messick is wrong. Dead wrong. Like 99% of the rest of the world, she understands that HIV causes AIDS, and that’s all there is to that. End of story. So why, in addition to the nausea, is she beginning to feel afraid, as if some unknown monster is lurking just around the corner?
Messick, meanwhile, is still talking.
“…going to try to keep everything as simple as possible and stay away from complicated medical terms and discussions. But there will have to be some of that. For example, we're going to start off talking a bit about the human body, and the immune system, and what AIDS actually is. Then we...”
I know what AIDS is, Sarah says silently to herself, but wishing she could say the same thing to Messick out loud. In fact, she is all too familiar with this fatal disease, both on a professional and a personal level. She had even done a lot of volunteer work in AIDS clinics, especially after losing her brother. As memories begin to come flooding back, Sarah forces her attention back to Messick, who is still explaining to the jury what to expect from him in this trial.
“...show you actual video tape from 1984 of Dr. Gallo announcing to the American people in a press conference that he had discovered the cause of AIDS, a retrovirus later to be called HIV. We'll prove to you that this retrovirus Dr. Gallo took credit for discovering, first of all, was not his discovery at all, but something he stole from a French scientist named Dr. Louis Moreau, and that this retrovirus could not possibly have anything to do with causing the disease of AIDS, either then or now, as even Dr. Moreau later agreed. The facts we will present will be shocking in terms of the pride, the greed, the arrogance, the incompetence, and the gross negligence that led to this completely self-serving behavior on Dr. Gallo's part. Then we will...”
Sarah didn’t expect that. Why would Messick think he could get away with attacking a brilliant and award-winning scientist like Dr. Gallo? What’s his point? Sarah already knew that Dr. Moreau was eventually recognized and given a major share of the credit with Dr. Gallo for the discovery of HIV, so that wasn’t new. But what did Messick call HIV? A retro-virus, or something like that? She had never heard that term before. She wrote it down to look it up later.
“...internal memos and other documents proving that the FDA short-cut its usual drug approval procedures to allow AZT to be given to patients who were HIV-positive, even though this same drug AZT had been rejected as far too toxic for human consumption just twenty years earlier, when it was developed as a treatment for cancer. We will ask the FDA how it could possibly approve a drug designed to attack cancer cells which were multiplying uncontrollably, to now treat a disease – AIDS – whose cells were dying uncontrollably. I really look forward to hearing someone try to explain that logic.”
Messick stops again to check the faces of each juror. Has he gone too far? Too fast? Are they listening? Are they following? These were such critical points, such important questions, that virtually no one had asked in the past thirty years. No, that’s wrong. There were indeed some people who had asked, like Dr. Peter Duesberg; so it is more correct to say that these are critical and important questions that no one in authority has properly answered in the past thirty years. Hopefully this jury would be different.
Sarah can’t answer Messick’s last question either, and it bothers her. As a health reporter, she should know the answer. Better make sure she finds out tonight, and she underlines the word tonight on her yellow pad. After all, that’s her job.
“...literally paid the homosexual community to take AZT, through the placement of expensive ads and other benefits. We will show you that this drug company, Burroughs Wellcome, knew all along that AZT would destroy a human's immune system, and yet continued to push for young men and women to take AZT even if they had no symptoms of AIDS, simply because they were HIV-positive, to the tune of four billion dollars in sales.”
“Objection.”
As the lawyers argue, Sarah’s mind wanders again, back almost fifteen years. It’s a time and place she’d rather not go, and she’s relieved when the Judge finally rules in Messick’s favor. She forces her thoughts back into present time and realizes Messick sounds like he’s winding down.
“...never forget that line in the movie, Jerry McGuire, ‘Show me the money!’ Well, I intend to show you where the money was in the case of AIDS, and how it resulted in the wrongful death of 300,000 young men and women. And when I'm finished, I'm going to ask you to take that money back from this pharmaceutical company, GlaxoSmithKline, and Dr. Gallo and the FDA and the Department of Health and Human Services, and give it to the families of those who died such a horrible, needless, and wrongful death.”
But now Sarah’s not sure whether Messick is finished or not. He’s still leaning on the jury rail, appearing to be searching for his next words. Finally he turns, walks to the plaintiffs' table and stands behind the only chair there. Sarah makes some notes: “one chair for the plaintiffs…compare that to the more than half-dozen at the defendants’ table and half-dozen more in the row directly behind. Looks almost like a David and Goliath thing….”
When Messick doesn’t move or begin talking again, the Judge quietly asks, “Counselor? Mr. Messick?”
Messick comes out of his daze. Whether real or created for effect, Sarah will never know. He looks at the Judge and finally takes his seat.
Judge Watts begins to explain, but only gets as far as, “That's all we're going to do this morning…” before pandemonium erupts and the press is on their feet storming the courtroom door trying to be the first out to file the story.
“…back after lunch at two p.m. for the opening statement by the defense. Court is in recess.” Neither the Judge nor the gavel can be heard over the noise.
Chapter Three
Outside the Special Proceedings Courtroom, on the last landing going down the steps to the atrium, the defendants and their entourage of attorneys gather at the bank of microphones set up for just this occasion, surrounded by media a few feet below them. Every once in a while, Sarah can hear a snippet or two: “You'll get our side this afternoon.... No comments now.... Ludicrous.… Unbelievable...” They don’t stay long, though, and are soon replaced by Benjamin Messick, clearly less comfortable there than in front of a jury. But Messick obviously knew that meeting the media like this was not only inevitable but necessary, and he came with a prepared statement, which he is reading.
“…very glad this trial has started. We’ve all waited a long time. It has taken thirty years to find a way to bring out the truth of AIDS. What you will hear in this courtroom in the next few weeks is probably going to shock you – the breadth and depth of the lies that have been told, and the lives that have been destroyed as a result. I look forward to this opportunity...”
A female voice interrupts him, “Is it true your best friend died of AIDS in 1994?”
Messick is obviously caught off guard. How the hell did they find out…what has that got to do with… “That's all,” he answers and quickly makes his way through the crowd to the exit, waving off the dozens of different questions being asked – more accurately, shouted at him simultaneously.
Chapter Four
It’s a typical newspaper room with desk-filled cubicles occupying every possible square inch. Sarah makes her way to one in the far corner that she shares with three other part-timers. Writing one column a week doesn’t earn anyone very plush accommodations at this paper, or any paper for that matter, but Sarah doesn’t mind. She’s grateful to have the job and would put up with much worse if she had to.
Fortunately, although today is not her usual allotted time, the desk is free. She breathes a word of thanks and sits down, quickly moving some stacks of paper out of the way to gain access to the keyboard. She’s in the middle of arranging her notes when Sam Moretti, her boss, appears. Sam is a middle-aged, over-weight son of an Italian immigrant with a rough and tough exterior, but for some reason he has a soft spot for Sarah.
“So?” Sam asks as he stops and leans against her cubicle wall.
Sarah just looks up at him, wondering if he had been lying in wait for her arrival. Sam means well, but she sometimes wishes he didn’t treat her like the daughter he never had. When she doesn’t answer, Sam tries again.
“So, how’d it go this morning?”
“I’m not quite sure.” Sarah is a little surprised at her answer and suddenly realizes she really isn’t sure.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam sounds more concerned than anything else. And again, when Sarah doesn’t speak right away, he presses her. “How can you say ‘you’re not quite sure?’ Weren’t you there?”
“Of course I was there. Wouldn’t have missed this chance for the world. But….” Sarah frowns and starts to try to explain. “I still don’t understand. Why file this suit in the first place? There's obviously no basis in fact, so what's the motivation? Is it a publicity stunt, created specifically for the thirtieth Anniversary of AIDS? Is there some hidden political agenda that hasn’t surfaced somehow? Or is this guy just some greedy lawyer taking advantage of a few poor families, making them grieve all over again, trying to pocket a huge commission? I can’t figure it out.”
Sam pulls up a chair from the next cubicle and sits, partially in the walkway and partially in Sarah’s office. Sarah glances at her notes before continuing.
“Benjamin Messick is the plaintiffs’ attorney, and he just doesn’t appear like the type to do something this off-the-wall. He seems to be intelligent, even humble; and he comes across as very sincere – which makes all this even more of a puzzle.”
Sam decides to stay quiet and let Sarah try to figure this out on her own. She stares intently at her notepad and finally deciphers her next bit of shorthand, reminding her of what Messick said.
“But Messick is full of shit, no doubt.” Sarah knows Sam picked up on the anger behind those words, and she quickly brings herself back under control and tries to divert his attention. “You should see it Sam – this guy Messick by himself on one side and a whole boatload of high-powered lawyers on the other. It's almost laughable.”
It was the edge that Sam didn’t like. One thing he insisted on from all of his reporters was to stay objective at all times and keep their own emotions out of the story.
“Sarah, are you sure you want to cover this? I've got two other full-time people from Legal there as well....”
“Don’t you dare, Sam.” Sarah leans forward in her chair and into his face. “This is my story. Don’t you even think about taking it away from me.” She backs away a little, realizing it was just that kind of outburst that Sam didn’t want involved in the news, and decides to try another tack. “Besides, you need someone covering the health side of this trial, as well as the legal side.” That sounded so lame, even to Sarah, that she falls back to what worked with Sam to get the assignment to begin with, and should work again. “Anyway, I've earned this, and I want it. Please….”
Sam knew he was had and threw up his hands. “Okay. All right. It's yours. Can you get me your first column by deadline tonight?”
Sarah relaxes a little, pushes her chair back, and starts rummaging through her briefcase. She finally retrieves an energy bar.
“I think so. We go back for the opening statements by the defendants at two. If they go too long, I'll just focus on Messick’s opening. Either way, I'll definitely have you something by six.” She unwraps the bar and takes a bite. “By the way, can you help keep this desk clear for me while this trial is going on?”
“Maybe I can even find you another one that’s all yours for the time being. I’ll check.”
Sam turns and starts to walk away, then turns back. “Want some lunch before you start?”
Sarah shakes her head no, and raises the energy bar for him to see that she’s all taken care of in that department.
“Sarah…” Sam gently teases her, but with genuine concern, “…when are you going to eat some real food?”
Sarah dismisses him with a wave of her hand, turns to her keyboard, and “Googles” retrovirus.
Chapter Five
The courtroom is buzzing with private conversations as Sarah walks in to take her seat.
“All rise.”
The bailiff’s booming voice commands respect and obedience, and by the time Judge Watts appears in her doorway, the crowd is on its feet in silence.
Judge Watts is a distinguished-looking black woman, around sixty, known to run a tight ship from her bench. She doesn’t put up with much, doesn’t like public spectacles, and therefore doesn’t seem very pleased to be hearing this particular case. She seats herself in a large plush chair behind the huge podium that stretches from one side of the courtroom to the other, designed more for a panel of three or five than a single justice.
“Be seated. And before we go on, ladies and gentlemen of the press, we’re going to get something straight. I will not tolerate disrespect of this court, or I’ll empty it faster than a gas tank in a Hummer.”
The crowd wants to laugh but isn’t sure if it could or should, so all that can be heard is a snicker. But Judge Watts has already made her point and people are going to listen.
“So let’s talk about this morning. From now on, no one moves or says a word before I have finished speaking and left my bench. And if just one of you violates that order, I’ll throw you all out. Is that clear?”
Heads nod agreement as Judge Watts looks around her courtroom. Satisfied, she’s ready to continue.
“Mr. Crawley, are you ready to present your opening remarks?”
Thomas Crawley is Dr. Gallo’s personal attorney as well as the lead attorney for the defense. Even seated he is an impressive figure, with shock-white hair, a tanned complexion, and perfectly manicured nails. When he stands, his six-foot-four frame adds to the powerful presence. Sarah marvels at how well her David and Goliath metaphor is playing out.
“Yes, Your Honor, we are ready.” Crawley’s voice is arrogant and confident. “And if it pleases the court, I will be making our opening statement on behalf of all the defendants, rather than belabor the court with multiple remarks.”
Judge Watts seems relieved to hear that; Crawley has already made his first score.
“In addition, I want the court to know that I will be very brief.”
Judge Watts settles back in her chair with an approving glance at Crawley. Score two for the defense in the first minute!
“Very well. Proceed, Mr. Crawley.”
Crawley moves to the lectern and hesitates a moment before beginning.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my name is Thomas Crawley. And I want to tell you first why my opening statement will only take a few minutes of your time. You see, the defendants, whom I represent, consider this whole trial to be an utter waste of time, for us, for the court, and especially for you, the jury. As Mr. Messick said, you see before you at the defendants’ table Dr. Robert Gallo. For years Dr. Gallo has been one of this nation's top scientists at the National Institutes of Health, and he is now the director of the Institute of Human Virology in Baltimore, Maryland. He didn't get there being stupid, or careless, or negligent. He, in fact, was co-responsible for identifying the cause of AIDS and spearheading its treatment. Mr. Messick claims that 300,000 people died of AIDS between 1987 and 1997. It could have been 3 million people if it weren't for Dr. Gallo. He deserves a medal, perhaps the Nobel Prize, not a lawsuit.”
While Crawley pauses to let the jury fully appreciate the stature of the main defendant in this case, Sarah takes a good look at Dr. Gallo, seated at the defense table. She can’t decide whether he looks more like a scientist or a bureaucrat. The only thing she knows for sure is that he seems annoyed that someone would dare question him or anything he did, as if he too believed he was Nobel Prize material and above reproach.
“Next to Dr. Gallo is the Department of Health and Human Services, represented by their attorney, Mr. Crenshaw. This is one of the most important departments of our government, charged with the responsibility of caring for our health and welfare. They also played a major role in keeping the AIDS epidemic from spreading into the entire population of this country. I mean, thirty years later, everybody knows that HIV causes AIDS! I don't understand why we are wasting your time on these issues.”
Crawley is definitely good, Sarah decides. And on top of that, he’s right. This is definitely not going to be a fair fight.
“Next to him is the Food and Drug Administration, represented by Mr. Fogerty. The FDA is our watchdog, making sure the food we take into our bodies is the best in the world, and protecting the American people from dangerous or ineffective drugs. If AZT was a problem back then, or a problem now, I can assure you that the FDA would have taken swift action, as they have in many, many other cases. In fact, if it weren't for the FDA's rapid approval of AZT in 1987, we could have experienced an AIDS epidemic that would have rivaled the bubonic plague.”
Crawley is already in the zone and Sarah can see it. It’s as if this is what he was born to do – manipulate people with words. She had heard rumors of his talent, and now she’s seeing it in person. She marvels at his style: so polished, so persuasive, so powerful. No wonder he’s considered one of the best attorneys in the country.
“And thank God for the research department at Burroughs Wellcome who could provide us with a drug as quickly as they did. They are represented by Mr. Gladstone. Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Gallo and the Department of Health and Human Services and the FDA and Burroughs Wellcome all deserve awards today, not some frivolous lawsuit. And I could produce hundreds of studies with thousands of pages of research to show you just how frivolous this lawsuit really is. But the amount of information you would have to understand – most of it written in complicated medical language – could literally be overwhelming.”
As Crawley was delivering his opening remarks, Messick had been sitting with his hands clasped together on the table, leaning forward on his arms, head slightly bowed. But as Crawley finishes that last sentence, Sarah sees Messick look up in disbelief. Apparently he thinks he knows what’s coming, and it’s also apparent he didn’t expect it.
“Besides, the plaintiffs gave us a list of their witnesses. That's normal, that's how our judicial system works. Many of the names on Mr. Messick's witness list are exactly the same names that would be on our witness list, and his list of plaintiffs’ exhibits is virtually the same as our list of exhibits. Now, I'm not totally sure what Mr. Messick is doing, but I am sure that his own witnesses and his own exhibits are going to tell a story very different from what he has led you to believe this morning.”
Crawley looks directly into the eyes of each juror in turn as he delivers the next line.
“It is the plaintiffs who are responsible for proving their case to you, and we know they can't do it. Let me say that again. We know they can’t prove their case….” Then looking directly at Judge Watts, he delivers his bombshell. “…and we will not dignify this travesty, this witch hunt, this preposterous case by putting on a defense.”
Before Crawley could finish his sentence, the courtroom erupts, and a few even forget the Judge’s warning just minutes earlier and bolt out of their seats, headed toward the door. Sarah just sits, stunned.
“Everyone sit down and shut up,” Judge Watts bellows as she bangs her gavel over and over as hard as she can until there is relative calm and quiet. “Now, what did I just say? You sit there, and you sit quietly, and you can stay. Otherwise, you’ll be watching this trial on TV with the rest of the world,” she says, angrily pointing toward the cameras. When there is silence again, she looks at Crawley, and the look carries a question and a warning for him as well. She doesn’t like theatrics in her courtroom, and she wants to make sure he knows he had crossed the line. But, to be honest, she is as curious as the rest, and as puzzled. She wants to hear what else he has to say. “Continue, Mr. Crawley.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, don't get me wrong. I will object to things Mr. Messick does that he shouldn't do during the presentation of his case. I'm not going to let him run roughshod over the rules of our judicial system in the pursuit of his fantasy. And if I feel that he has confused you with his questioning of…our witnesses, I might cross-examine to clarify a thing or two. But when Mr. Messick has finished, you will see that not only has he failed to present even the slightest shred of proof for his case, but he has unjustly dragged my clients and the American people through the mud of sensationalism, and wasted your time and mine.”
Crawley had them all in the palm of his hand. He knew he could do anything with them he wanted, but what he wanted most was to put all the pressure on Messick from the very beginning. “We will not be part of that, except as required by sanity and logic and the rules of this court.”
Crawley once again looks at the Judge, as if to answer her unspoken question directly. “Have I been clear? We do not intend to defend ourselves from such…” looking for just the right words, “…ludicrous tripe.” Then he looks back at the jury. “When Mr. Messick finally sits down, I am totally confident that you will already be able to find these defendants not responsible without my having to say a word.”
Chapter Six
Sarah ceremoniously hits the Enter key to officially file her first column about the trial. She gathers her notes and a half-eaten energy bar and stuffs them back in her briefcase, grabs her suit jacket, and starts walking through the newsroom toward the elevators. As she passes the open door to the Research Room, she hears the TV monitors and stops to listen for a minute.
“Nine P.M. Eastern time…This is GNN, your Global News Network. Our top story tonight is, of course, the first day of the three trillion dollar AIDS trial in Phoenix, Arizona. This is a class action lawsuit on behalf of 300,000 Americans, mostly men, who died from AIDS during the years 1987 to 1997. And this trial started off with two major surprises. Rick Mann is at the Federal courthouse in Phoenix. Rick, what happened today?”
Sarah forgets about the elevator that arrived and slips into the Research Room to watch the GNN report.
On the TV screen, Rick Mann is standing with the huge glass courthouse some distance behind him in the background. This is so the camera can show the crowds of demonstrators that are still there with their signs, chanting slogans and hurling insults.
“Laura, today both sides gave their opening statements to the jury. Benjamin Messick, attorney for the plaintiffs, took almost three hours to tell the jury he would prove that Dr. Robert Gallo, who worked for the National Institutes of Health, and the Department of Health and Human Services wrongfully declared the virus called HIV as the cause of AIDS at a press conference in 1984. Further, Mr. Messick contends that the FDA improperly approved the drug AZT for the treatment of AIDS, and that the drug company called Burroughs Wellcome, now called GlaxoSmithKline, produced and distributed AZT to some 300,000 people who shouldn't have taken it. But the first surprise, according to Mr. Messick, is his contention that it was the AZT that actually caused AIDS in these victims, who later died, and says he will prove that they developed AIDS only because they took the AZT and not from the HIV.”
Laura Begley is back on the screen in GNN headquarters in Atlanta. “And what was the reaction from the defendants?”
These back-and-forth questions were obviously pre-arranged just to break up what might be a monotonous monologue, and it’s clear Laura is reading from a script on the teleprompter. Rick continues without skipping a beat.
“Well, this was the other big surprise. The head of the defense team, Thomas Crawley, took less than 15 minutes to tell the jury he wasn't going to defend his clients. In this bold and daring move, Crawley said, and I quote…” Mann reads from his notes, “…‘we will not dignify this travesty, this witch hunt, this preposterous case by putting on a defense,’” then looks back at the camera. “He also said that the plaintiffs did not have, quote, even the slightest shred of proof, unquote, and called the entire case ludicrous tripe, frivolous, and a waste of time. This seemed to catch not only the court, but also the plaintiffs' attorney off guard. Here was Mr. Messick's reaction...”
Rick’s face on the screen is replaced by videotape showing a crowd of reporters trying to get Messick to answer questions as he leaves the courthouse that afternoon. Without stopping he simply yells out to all the reporters present, “Mr. Crawley might change his mind when I'm finished…we'll see.”
The video ends and Rick Mann picks up where he left off.
“Laura, the defense is counting on the plaintiffs being unable to prove their case, and therefore there would be no need for them to say anything when Mr. Messick is finished. Mr. Messick obviously thinks things will be different. Back to you, Laura.”
Rick disappears from the TV, replaced by Laura in Atlanta. This time, she is not alone.
“Thanks, Rick. With us in the studio tonight is our chief health correspondent, Dr. Frank Keating, who will be joining us often as this trial progresses. Dr. Keating, what do you make of all of this?”
Dr. Frank Keating is a typical GNN consultant, available on call for interviews precisely like this one. He looks good on TV and speaks clearly, with intelligence and authority, which is why GNN calls on him so often.
“Well, Laura, the argument that the plaintiffs' attorney, Mr. Messick, is making, that the virus called HIV does not cause AIDS, is not a new argument at all. Way back in the early 1980’s when all this started, the world's leading retrovirologist, Dr. Peter Duesberg, disagreed strongly with Dr. Gallo and eventually wrote a book called Inventing the AIDS Virus."
Keating holds up a copy of Dr. Duesberg’s book, and Laura is obviously thrown off script.
“Stop, please, Dr. Keating. You're going to have to make all this much simpler for us. You said Dr. Duesberg was the world's leading what?”
“Retrovirologist.”
Laura seems completely lost already.
“And that is?”
Keating realizes he has probably not only lost Laura, but most of the GNN viewers as well. He decides to slow down and go back to the basics.
“We keep calling HIV a virus, the ‘AIDS virus,’ and it technically is a virus, but a very special kind called a retrovirus. We don't know very much about retroviruses at all, where they come from, how they behave, what their role is in the human body. They are definitely different from the normal viruses we think of that cause diseases like colds or even polio. HIV is a retrovirus, and for years Dr. Duesberg was considered the expert on retroviruses, until Dr. Gallo announced that a retrovirus caused AIDS in 1984.”
Laura is almost back up to speed. “And Dr. Duesberg disagreed with Dr. Gallo?”
“That's an understatement. Dr. Duesberg fought bitterly with Dr. Gallo for many years, but the press hardly reported it. Virtually no one had heard of Dr. Duesberg, and all the American people knew was that the nation's leading cancer research scientist, Dr. Robert Gallo, said that HIV caused AIDS, and that was the end of that story.”
“Whatever happened to Dr. Duesberg?”
Keating frowned. “He was discredited as a scientist, lost all his research grants, was barred from any media appearances to give his side of the story, and basically disappeared back into his laboratory at the University of California in Berkeley.”
Now Laura’s curiosity is peaked, which is what makes her such a good reporter. “Is he still alive?”
“Yes, and I expect that we'll see him as a key witness for the plaintiffs as this trial progresses.”
“Dr. Keating, thank you. Looks like we're in for some interesting times in the coming weeks. And now for other news...an early winter storm has hit Idaho and Montana, causing power outages and severe driving conditions...”
Sarah turns to leave the Research Room and immediately bumps into Sam who is standing there close behind her. She jumps back, startled.
“Please come to my office, Sarah.”
“Sam, I’ve got to get home to fix dinner for the family.”
This time Sam’s look is as intense as his voice. “Sarah, I need you to come to my office for a minute.”
Sarah quickly figures out this is not really an invitation, but an order. As Sam sits down behind his desk, Sarah closes the door, just in case something really bad is coming.
“Sarah, I was just reading your column on the trial.” He clearly is not sure how to approach the subject. With any other reporter, Sam would be direct and forceful and commanding. With Sarah, it’s different, and he’s not sure exactly why. After all, he is her boss, and he should be able to act, well, bossy. He musters up as much directness as he can. “I can't let this go to press, Sarah.”
Sarah looks genuinely surprised. “Why not?”
Sam hesitates again. “I realize that you write a health column, and you’re not used to reporting on a case like this one. But you are a trained journalist, and if you're going to cover this trial, we need you to give us a more objective account of what's happening, even from the health perspective.”
“What do you mean, Sam?”
Sam picks up some papers from his desk, obviously Sarah’s column that she submitted a few minutes ago. He scans it quickly, searching for certain lines.
" ‘The plaintiff's attorney, using some of the same lame arguments disproved two decades ago’.... ‘At least the defense attorney respected the value of our time,’.... ‘The courtroom looked like the playing field for David and Goliath – Mr. Messick against the best minds in the business. Only this time David doesn't stand a chance....’ Come on, Sarah, you haven't written anything as one-sided as that since you were my student in high school.”
Sarah finally sits down in the chair across from Sam. Her face is flushed, her voice has a hint of sarcasm, and she’s on the attack rather than the defense. “Sam, this trial is a joke. If HIV didn't cause AIDS, the ‘best minds in the business’ would have found that out long ago. We wouldn't have had to wait twenty-five years for some camera-happy, publicity-seeking attorney like Benjamin Messick to clue us in….”
Sam cuts her off before Sarah says something he won’t be able to overlook. “Sarah…stop. I’ve been watching the TV, too. Messick doesn't appear ‘camera-happy’ to me. What have you got against Benjamin Messick? Look, Sarah, I'm going to say it again...I really think you shouldn't be covering this trial, for your own sake.”
Sarah is not used to being reprimanded. She also will not tolerate threats. She jumps up out of the chair quickly and angrily blurts out, “Don't ever bring that up again, Sam.”
Sam is a little surprised by her forceful reaction. “Well, then either we don't run anything from you in tomorrow's paper, or you go fix this right now and make it right.” He holds out the papers to Sarah across the desk.
Sarah hesitates for a moment. Then she grabs the papers, storms out of Sam’s office back to her cubicle, peels off her coat, throws her briefcase down and picks up the phone to tell the family she’ll be late.
Chapter Seven
“Dr. Fowler, how long have you been Chief of Internal Medicine at Johns Hopkins?”
“A little over five years now.”
Benjamin Messick is standing at the lectern, starting to ask questions of his first witness, Dr. Alan Fowler.
“And after you graduated from Harvard Medical School, what did you specialize in?”
“Immunology.”
Dr. Fowler seems very comfortable in the witness stand, Sarah notices. She decides, he must hire himself out as an expert witness a lot. Well, at least Messick is bringing in some big guns to help him out.
“And have you been published in the field of immunology?”
Thomas Crawley is out of his chair at the defense table, interrupting. “Your Honor, in the interest of time, the defense stipulates that Dr. Fowler is an expert witness concerning the human immune system.”
“Thank you, Mr. Crawley. Mr. Messick, you may proceed with your questions.” Judge Watts seems grateful to Crawley for sparing her the time. Messick simply turns his attention back to the witness box.
“Thank you, Your Honor. Dr. Fowler, will you please tell us how the immune system works in a normal human being?”
“We don't know with 100% certainty....”
Crawley is up again. “Your Honor, again, in the interest of time, the defense will stipulate to the definition of AIDS that Dr. Fowler will present.” He then turns directly to Messick. “I assume that's where you're going, counselor?” Then he turns back to the Judge. “We’re very familiar with Dr. Fowler; he’s been an expert witness for us in the past, and we know what he's going to say. We would have called him ourselves to present the definition of AIDS, and we are happy to skip all the technicalities and get right to the point.”
This is definitely not part of Messick’s plan, and he does not want his case thrown off the rails before it even gets going.
“Your Honor, this is about more than just getting some definition of AIDS on the record. This jury needs to understand at least a little bit of how the immune system works to understand how AIDS is such a deadly disease.”
Judge Watts motions to both attorneys. “Side bar, please….”
Sarah leans to her left to see if she can make out what’s being said at the side bar, but she can’t. She hopes that the Judge cuts this short, because the last thing she needs is to sit for hours listening to a high school lecture on the human immune system.
At the sidebar, Judge Watts also hopes she can cut this short. “Mr. Messick, what’s your point with this witness?”
“Your Honor, I need to establish how the immune system works, and what the disease called AIDS is, so that the jury can work with the definition rather than just memorize it.”
Like Sarah, this is the last thing Crawley wants. “Your Honor....”
But the Judge silences Crawley with a wave of her hand without looking at him or saying a word, and then motions to Messick to continue making his point.
“I'm going to show that if the defendants had adhered to the very definition of AIDS they propound, my 300,000 clients would have never been given AZT....”
Crawley tries again. “Your Honor....”
Once again Judge Watts waves off Crawley’s interruption. “Mr. Messick, I feel a lot like Mr. Crawley here, that you might be wasting our time. But since this is the start of this trial, I'm going to give you some leeway. The minute I think you're losing the jury with unnecessary medical technicalities that can only result in their total confusion, and perhaps a mistrial, I'm pulling in your reins. Understood?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.”
The Judge waves them both back from the sidebar. Crawley hides his disappointment as he sits down again and whispers to Dr. Gallo sitting next to him.
The Judge announces to the courtroom, “Mr. Messick may continue.”
Messick repositions himself behind the lectern and scans his notes to refresh his memory.
“Dr. Fowler, you were about to tell us how the immune system works in a normal human being….”
“As I started to say, we don't know with 100% certainty. But I brought along some of the teaching aids I created at Johns Hopkins, if that will help.”
Messick turns to the Judge. “Your Honor, with the court’s permission, we’d like to show the jury a short video presentation….”
When neither the Judge nor Crawley object, Messick nods toward the back of the courtroom and a large TV is rolled to the front where the Judge and the jury can see it easily. Another big screen is placed in front of the spectators for them to watch. Sarah moves slightly to her right to get a better view.
With another nod, the lights in the courtroom dim and the TVs come alive. It is Dr. Fowler’s voice on the video.
“The human body has a wonderful and intricate immune system to help it fight off disease. One of the major components of that immune system is a group of cells called T cells. There are several different kinds of T cells, each with its own function. For example, ‘T4’ cells are also known as ‘Helper’ T cells.”
While Fowler narrates, high-tech graphics on the screen portray the Helper T cells in action.
“They're the watchdogs for the body. They continually search throughout the body, looking for anything foreign they don't recognize, and then notify the body about the invader. For example, if you get a splinter in your finger, the T4 cells will find it and then sound the alarm, warning of a possible danger.”
The video shows a young boy getting a splinter, and then the camera zooms in toward his finger and seemingly continues right through his skin to show an animated rendition of the T4 cells at work.
“Or if you come in contact with a strange bacterium or virus, or if you receive a new heart or kidney through a transplant, the T4 cells will activate the body's immune system. In other words, they help the body maintain its health.”
Messick shoots a glance at the jury to make sure they’re with him so far. They are.
“What happens next is that ‘Killer’ T cells are released by the immune system....”
The video is very cleverly going back and forth between live shots of actual Killer T cells and animation of how they operate.
“...to destroy the invader and also any cells in the body which are presently infected by the outside organism. Then the immune system goes to work to produce antibodies – new ‘special agents’ specifically designed to fight any future invasion by this same intruder. This is the basic theory behind the smallpox vaccine, or any other vaccine.”
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