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“That’s what malpractice is.
“When I asked Dr. Garza if he had anything to do with those patients’ deaths, he said, ‘I take the Fifth.’
“Imagine. He declined to answer because he didn’t want to incriminate himself!
“Wasn’t that an answer in itself? Of course it was.”
No one coughed or seemed even to breathe. O’Mara pushed on, looking at each of the jurors in turn.
“This isn’t a criminal case. No one’s going after Dr. Garza for a crime, even though he made this bizarre self-incrimination.
“But we are asking you to hold Municipal Hospital responsible for this ‘bad wind.’
“We are asking you to punish Municipal for putting profit over the well-being of its patients.
“And we are asking you to award my clients fifty million dollars, a sum that will hurt the hospital, even though it can’t begin to make up for the loss of those twenty precious lives.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this hospital must be stopped from practicing Russian-roulette medicine—and you can stop them.
“Ask yourselves, if someone you loved was ill or injured, would you want them to go to Municipal Hospital?
“Would you want to go there yourself? Would you even consider it after what you’ve heard?
“Please carry that thought with you into the jury room—and find in favor of my clients, and those they have lost at Municipal. Award them the maximum amount of damages. On their behalf, I thank you.”
Chapter 104
YUKI WAITED IN THE LONG LINE outside the ladies’ room. Her arms folded, chin tucked down, she was thinking how powerfully she’d felt O’Mara’s closing, and she was asking herself again why she hadn’t dragged her mother out of Municipal before Garza, that bastard, killed her.
The line moved so slowly that by the time Yuki entered the washroom, there were only moments left before court was due to resume.
Quickly, she turned on the cold water faucet, splashed water on her face. Then she reached blindly for the paper towels.
She patted her face dry and opened her eyes to see Maureen O’Mara in front of the mirror touching up her makeup.
Yuki was happily surprised to see O’Mara.
She congratulated her on her closing argument and introduced herself, saying, “I’m with Duffy and Rogers, but I’m here because my mom died recently at Municipal.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” O’Mara said, nodding; then she cut her eyes back to the mirror.
Yuki recoiled at the rebuff. A half second later she realized that O’Mara was probably absorbed, bracing for Kramer’s closing.
Worrying about the jury.
Yuki wadded up her paper towel and tossed it into the trash container, taking another look at O’Mara, both in the round and in her reflected image in the glass.
Maureen O’Mara’s suit was splendid. Her teeth were bleached, and her glorious hair had that seamless glow usually only seen in shampoo commercials. The woman takes care of herself, Yuki thought, and that observation irritated her for some reason.
She had a thought about how she hadn’t had her own hair cut in months and had been alternating every other day between one of two dark-blue business suits. It was just easier to dress automatically.
Since her mother died, how she looked just didn’t seem to matter.
Beside her, O’Mara blotted her lipstick, flicked a stray hair from her collar, and, without another look at Yuki, left the bathroom.
A broad woman in a pinstriped suit asked Yuki if she minded, she had to reach across her to use the soap.
“Sure, no problem.”
