“Your protocols don’t require that the family actually be reached or be given enough information to make an informed decision,” Rachel argued. “Mrs. Hart learned her grandfather had died via a cold, impersonal phone call. She didn’t get to say goodbye. She didn’t get to hold his hand. She didn’t even get to make the decision about whether surgery was what he would have wanted. Because no one gave her the option to rush to the hospital.”
Rachel let the moment sit. Then she looked at me.
“Who made the decision to proceed with surgery without next of kin authorization?”
“Dr. Cole Vaughn, the on-call trauma surgeon.”
“And Dr. Vaughn made that decision without speaking to anyone in administration? Literally no one backing him up?”
“Our surgeons are in life-and-death situations all day,” Dr. Webb argued. “He made his decision based on Mr. Greene’s presentation, prognosis, and emergency protocols.”
“So this wasn’t a hospital decision,” Rachel said. “This was one person unilaterally choosing to proceed.”
I felt the trap closing. “Dr. Vaughn consulted with the attending and surgical team.”
“But ultimately, Dr. Vaughn decided,” Rachel pressed.
“Dr. Vaughn is an excellent trauma surgeon with an impeccable record,” said Dr. Webb. “His decision-making in this situation was sound.”
“I’m sure it was,” Rachel said, drawing her hands back. “So, we’d like to hear from Dr. Vaughn.”
My stomach dropped. “I—I’m sorry?”
“Mrs. Hart deserves to hear directly from the surgeon that treated him. She deserves to look him in the eye and ask why her grandfather died alone.”
“Ms. Gaines—” I started.
“This isn’t about blame,” Rachel said, her hands up in surrender. “This is about understanding. Mrs. Hart has questions only Dr. Vaughn can answer. Surely Ridgeway has nothing to hide. Unless there’s a reason you don’t want him in this room.”
It was a perfect trap. We looked guilty if we refused.
“Of course,” Dr. Rice said. “I’m sure Dr. Vaughn would be happy to?—”
“No!” I said, nearly shouted. Every head in the room turned toward me.
Dr. Rice’s eyes narrowed slightly—a warning I chose to ignore.
“Dr. Vaughn’s surgical notes are comprehensive. Asking him to sit in this room and defend real-time medical decisions to agrieving family is inappropriate. It’s not fair to him, and frankly, it’s not fair to Mrs. Hart.”
Rachel’s eyebrow arched. “You don’t think Mrs. Hart deserves to speak with her grandfather’s surgeon?”
“I think Mrs. Hart deserves accurate, complete information about her grandfather’s care,” I said. “Which I’ve provided. Putting Dr. Vaughn in this room where his medical judgment will be second-guessed by people who weren’t there is inappropriate.”
“Harper,” Dr. Rice said quietly. It was a warning.
I ignored her, my eyes trained on Rachel.
“If you have specific clinical questions, I can arrange for written responses. I can set up a separate meeting with medical experts to review the operative report. But bringing him into a meeting like this, where he’ll be expected to justify how he tried to save someone’s life? That reeks of building a case for negligence where none exists.”
Rachel smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant. “Ms. Sutton, I appreciate your vigorous defense of Dr. Vaughn, but I have to wonder why you’re so resistant. If Dr. Vaughn’s care was appropriate, then he should have no problem explaining it to Mrs. Hart. Unless there’s something about those decisions that you think won’t stand up to scrutiny?”
“That’s not what I’m saying?—”
“Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re trying hard to keep Dr. Vaughn away from my client. And that makes me wonder what you’re trying to hide.”
Adrienne cleared her throat. “Ms. Gaines, we can arrange for Dr. Vaughn to attend a follow-up meeting.”
Webb nodded. “Dr. Vaughn is capable of explaining his decisions.”
