Years ago, I took the hick-ocratic oath. That is, of course, the hick …" A case of the hiccups was now distracting him and the clerk brought a glass of water. Watkins nodded a formal thank you.
Cefalo plunged ahead. "Dr. Watkins, you testified that, based on the medical records in this case, you could determine to a reasonable degree of medical certainty that Dr. Stanton punctured the aorta with the rongeur, is that correct?"
"Objection! Leading and an inaccurate summary of the testimony." I didn't need to win that one, just to figure out what the next ruling would be.
"Overruled," Judge Leonard said. He started packing, dropping a cap and sunglasses into a briefcase.
"Is that correct?" Cefalo repeated.
Watkins nodded. Either he was saying yes, or he was falling asleep.
"Doctor, you must speak audibly for the court reporter to record your answer."
Watkins again nodded silently.
Cefalo pushed forward. "Now, to speed this up, let me tell you that another witness has testified that the rupture in the aorta was on its anterior side, in the front, and that a surgeon entering from the back could not have made the rupture there."
"Zat so?" Watkins asked, eyebrows arched in surprise.
"My question, Doctor, is whether it is possible for a surgeon performing a laminectomy to perforate the front of the aorta?"
Watkins stared into space.
Sweat broke out on Cefalo's forehead. "You may remember our discussing this yesterday morning …"
I was on my feet. "Objection! Leading. Your Honor, really, there is certain latitude, but this is too much."
"Sustained. Move it along, Mr. Cefalo."
Cefalo tried again. "The fact that the perforation was in front, What, if anything, does that tell you?"
Watkins mumbled something, his eyes half closed. The jurors were shooting each other sideways glances. Get a load of this. Somewhere a trillion miles away, some intergalactic god of luck was shining on Roger Stanton.
"Doctor?"
"Squooshy," Dr. Watkins said.
"Squooshy?" Cefalo asked, his eyes widening.
A momentary brightness came to Dr. Watkins's face. "It's all squooshy in there. You might think it's like all these pretty pictures in the books, the vascular system here, the muscles there, the bones over there. Hah! Phooey!" The phooey shot a wad of expectorant toward the court reporter.
"It's all squooshed up. And it moves. The son-of-a-bitch keeps breathing while you're cutting him up. It's all squooshing around and moving. Front, back, in between. Who the fuck can tell the difference?"
Even Judge Leonard heard that. He aimed a murderous look at Dan Cefalo, who hastily advised that Dr. Watkins was now my witness. I didn't want him. The judge banged his gavel louder than usual and crisply ordered us adjourned. Then he shot off the bench, his maroon robes flying behind him.
Roger Stanton was pumping my hand as if we'd already won. I told him to wait until tomorrow. You can never tell with juries. He said he felt like celebrating, maybe carousing, how about our finding a couple chicas. I didn't ask if they were both for him, just declined, saying I had to gather my thoughts for tomorrow. Then I asked him a question.
"What about it? If you go in from the back, could you tear the aorta in front?"
He smiled. "Our witness said no."
"Right. And Watkins said everything's squooshy. What do you say?"
He smiled again. "I say they're both right. Riggs is right in what he does. When a body is dead, it's inert. If you did a laminectomy on a corpse, you probably couldn't hit the front of the aorta with the rongeur. But Watkins was tight that with a living, breathing body, there's movement. It's a mess in there, things can happen. If you pushed the rongeur too far, it's possible that on the way back, it could nick the front of the aorta. It's possible."
"But unlikely," I suggested.
"Unless you were trying," Roger Stanton said.
8
THE LATE SHOW
This is how I prepare my closing argument. I toss the files into the trunk of the 442
Cefalo plunged ahead. "Dr. Watkins, you testified that, based on the medical records in this case, you could determine to a reasonable degree of medical certainty that Dr. Stanton punctured the aorta with the rongeur, is that correct?"
"Objection! Leading and an inaccurate summary of the testimony." I didn't need to win that one, just to figure out what the next ruling would be.
"Overruled," Judge Leonard said. He started packing, dropping a cap and sunglasses into a briefcase.
"Is that correct?" Cefalo repeated.
Watkins nodded. Either he was saying yes, or he was falling asleep.
"Doctor, you must speak audibly for the court reporter to record your answer."
Watkins again nodded silently.
Cefalo pushed forward. "Now, to speed this up, let me tell you that another witness has testified that the rupture in the aorta was on its anterior side, in the front, and that a surgeon entering from the back could not have made the rupture there."
"Zat so?" Watkins asked, eyebrows arched in surprise.
"My question, Doctor, is whether it is possible for a surgeon performing a laminectomy to perforate the front of the aorta?"
Watkins stared into space.
Sweat broke out on Cefalo's forehead. "You may remember our discussing this yesterday morning …"
I was on my feet. "Objection! Leading. Your Honor, really, there is certain latitude, but this is too much."
"Sustained. Move it along, Mr. Cefalo."
Cefalo tried again. "The fact that the perforation was in front, What, if anything, does that tell you?"
Watkins mumbled something, his eyes half closed. The jurors were shooting each other sideways glances. Get a load of this. Somewhere a trillion miles away, some intergalactic god of luck was shining on Roger Stanton.
"Doctor?"
"Squooshy," Dr. Watkins said.
"Squooshy?" Cefalo asked, his eyes widening.
A momentary brightness came to Dr. Watkins's face. "It's all squooshy in there. You might think it's like all these pretty pictures in the books, the vascular system here, the muscles there, the bones over there. Hah! Phooey!" The phooey shot a wad of expectorant toward the court reporter.
"It's all squooshed up. And it moves. The son-of-a-bitch keeps breathing while you're cutting him up. It's all squooshing around and moving. Front, back, in between. Who the fuck can tell the difference?"
Even Judge Leonard heard that. He aimed a murderous look at Dan Cefalo, who hastily advised that Dr. Watkins was now my witness. I didn't want him. The judge banged his gavel louder than usual and crisply ordered us adjourned. Then he shot off the bench, his maroon robes flying behind him.
Roger Stanton was pumping my hand as if we'd already won. I told him to wait until tomorrow. You can never tell with juries. He said he felt like celebrating, maybe carousing, how about our finding a couple chicas. I didn't ask if they were both for him, just declined, saying I had to gather my thoughts for tomorrow. Then I asked him a question.
"What about it? If you go in from the back, could you tear the aorta in front?"
He smiled. "Our witness said no."
"Right. And Watkins said everything's squooshy. What do you say?"
He smiled again. "I say they're both right. Riggs is right in what he does. When a body is dead, it's inert. If you did a laminectomy on a corpse, you probably couldn't hit the front of the aorta with the rongeur. But Watkins was tight that with a living, breathing body, there's movement. It's a mess in there, things can happen. If you pushed the rongeur too far, it's possible that on the way back, it could nick the front of the aorta. It's possible."
"But unlikely," I suggested.
"Unless you were trying," Roger Stanton said.
8
THE LATE SHOW
This is how I prepare my closing argument. I toss the files into the trunk of the 442
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