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Chapter Sixty-Four
It was the day of Gabby’s press conference, and everything was bigger and better than ever. It was being held in the glistening National Constitution Center at the historic center of Philadelphia, across from the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, where the Declaration of Independence was signed and our country born. The United States Courthouse was next door, where John had pleaded guilty. But today, Gabby was fighting for justice in the Holmesburg lawsuit.
We had rented the Grand Hall, a vast open space that comprised the entire first floor of the building, and it had a soaring sixty-foot ceiling with flags from every state and a sweep of windows overlooking Independence National Historical Park. The walls were adorned with wraparound excerpts from the United States Constitution, which was about to come to life. The Grand Hall usually hosted cocktail parties for the Philadelphia Bar Association and various corporations, but today had a higher purpose. The vast empty room awaited the media, and they would be let in any minute.
We had set up a long table on a dais, and our clients Chuck Whitman, Tony Bales, Joaquin Hernandez, and Walter Melendez wereseated. They were the plaintiffs who felt well enough to come, and each would be speaking today, so I busied myself checking on them and making sure they had water, a notepad, and a pen. There was an empty chair for the late Joe Ferguson, the plaintiff who had shown such humor in the face of his own death. The only other people present so far were the plaintiffs’ families, who sat with my mother and father in the front row.
Three hundred chairs had been set up and on each seat was a Complaint, a set of medical and expert exhibits, and a thick press packet that contained bios of each of the speakers, including me. The recent developments in the case had gotten national attention. Dr. Bostwick, Mortensen, and Solkov were in prison, serving time for conspiracy to commit murder in order to stop the litigation. Their convictions had been splashed across the media and the cases were only helping us, shining a searing spotlight on our Holmesburg case. All major networks, cable, radio, and online news would be here today.
The community had showed up in triple the numbers, and they were demonstrating outside, coordinating with representatives from the clergy, various prison projects, medical organizations, law students, and an array of other public-interest groups. The story was blowing up, which would only intensify pressure on the defendants to settle.
Gabby bustled into the room from the double doors in the back, looking professional in her navy-blue suit, clapping her hands like a coach. “Okay, gentlemen, let’s do a last run-through before we let them in. It’s showtime!”
•••
I’d never seen so many cameras and phones in my life, all pointed at the dais, where I sat at the end. Gabby started the presentation, outlined the Complaint, and introduced each of the plaintiffs. ChuckWhitman, Tony Bales, Joaquin Hernandez, and Walter Melendez each told his own story about how he came to Holmesburg, the medical experiments that had been performed on him, and the terrible consequences on his health, suffered for decades. The media reacted instantly, murmuring among themselves, and even hardened reporters looked moved, appalled, and outraged. The plaintiffs’ families wiped their eyes, and so did my mother.
When the plaintiffs were finished, Gabby retook the floor. “As you may know, Fournette Labs’ former CEO, Dr. Carl Bostwick, has been convicted of conspiracy to murder my brother TJ Devlin and me, having hired killers to stop the lawsuit you’re going to hear about today. But he failed, and we’re here. So is my father, Paul Devlin, who was injured saving my life. My dad’s in the front row, recovering from his injuries.”
“Hear, hear!” my father shouted, grinning.
The media reacted with spontaneous applause, and there was hooting and hollering from the back, where the demonstrators had filled in.
Gabby gestured to me. “And now, I would like to turn the program over to my brother TJ Devlin, who was at Hessian Post Plaza that day. An investigator, he figured out Dr. Bostwick’s murder-for-hire plot in time to thwart it and save both our lives.” Gabby flashed me a smile. “Obviously, I’m grateful to TJ and my father. But what matters today is that Dr. Bostwick and his henchmen were willing to kill to prevent justice from being done in this case. You, as members of the press, know how vital your function is, as we sit here across from the Liberty Bell itself.”
Gabby gestured to me. “I’d like TJ to tell you exactly what happened to us at Hessian Post Plaza, so you can hear firsthand what it’s like when violence assaults justice. TJ?”
I stuffed my jitters and launched into a retelling of that day, asbriefly as I could. Gabby had thought the story would get us extra media attention and shame the other defendants into making the offers we wanted. The media reacted, talking among themselves, and my parents beamed like I was the lead in the high school play.
Gabby looked over. “Thank you, TJ. Thank you to all of the plaintiffs, among them Chuck Whitman, Tony Bales, Joaquin Hernandez, and Walter Melendez, who spoke today. Special thanks to Joe Ferguson—and the empty chair at the end represents him. He passed away during this lawsuit, and I hope that his empty chair reminds you that there were countless men who were incarcerated throughout the Philadelphia prison system and died before they could get the justice they deserve. In criminal law, justice is served by going to jail, but in civil law, justice is served by financial compensation. I hope that today’s presentation will encourage the defendants to compensate the plaintiffs for what they have gone through, in a horrendous situation that never should have happened in our historic city.” Gabby paused. “Now I’d like to open the floor to questions.”
Hands shot up, and everyone shouted at once. Gabby fielded questions and so did each of the plaintiffs. Finally she said, “We have time for one last question.”
A male reporter raised his hand. “I have one for TJ Devlin. Mr. Devlin, your bio in the press packet neglects to mention you served time in Chester County Prison. Would you like to elaborate?”
My mouth went dry. I didn’t relish exposing my criminal record to the public.
Gabby interjected, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Why not?” The reporter scoffed. “You just said the press has the right to know the truth. Why withhold it from us with respect to your brother?”
Gabby started to answer, but I waved her off.
“Gabby, I’ll answer that.” I turned to the reporter, bracing myself. “Yes, I’m a recovering alcoholic and I served time for my crime, which was leaving a toddler in a car while I went drinking. It was a terrible mistake, but I’ve turned my life around since then.” The words left my lips, and though the reporters chattered among themselves, I realized the world didn’t end. Suddenly I felt a load lifted, one that I hadn’t known I’d still been carrying. “So yes, I have a record, I served time, and I paid the price. My crime was more heinous than anyone else’s on this panel, and we all paid our proverbial debt to society.” I continued, speaking from my heart, “But here’s the thing. We’re here today because we’re suing corporations and institutions that havenotserved a single day for their bad acts, nor have they paid these men, even though theyknowthey caused untold suffering to them and their families. We’re all human and we all make mistakes. Some of us pay for them, but not all of us. We sit here in Philadelphia at the epicenter of equal justice, and I hope that one day, there will truly be equal justice for us all. Thank you.”
Gabby smiled, delighted. My mother jumped to her feet, clapping wildly.
My father looked positively teary, and the demonstrators cheered, hooted, and hollered. Some of the media even got up, clapping.
Chuck looked over at me, with a smile. “TJ, did you apply yet?”
“To what?”
“College. You gettin’ younger?”
Chapter Sixty-Five
I walked into Petco for the first time, dazzled by its gigantic size, superbright lights, and primary-color signage. I was a Petco Virgin because I bought my cat food online, but I needed emergency salmon-and-rice. Mango still wanted nothing to do with me during the day but slept with me every night. I settled for that deal since I wasn’t getting any better offers anyway.
