Judge Stone by James Patterson - 75
The defense had called a solid assortment of upstanding citizens from Birmingham and Montgomery to testify about Bria Gaines’s good character and professional ability. Two locals had taken the stand on her behalf, patients who literally owed their lives to her care. The final witness for the defense...
The defense had called a solid assortment of upstanding citizens from Birmingham and Montgomery to testify about Bria Gaines’s good character and professional ability. Two locals had taken the stand on her behalf, patients who literally owed their lives to her care.
The final witness for the defense was Bria Gaines.
I watched closely as she took the stand and testified in her own defense. After a short time, I was able to relax. She was doing a good job of it.
That’s not always the case.
When providing testimony in court, some folks are their own worst enemy. Even when they’re intelligent, educated. Not everyone comes across. Some get angry, act defensive. Others freeze. I’ve seen nice, amiable people get on that stand and lose their likability factor.
And if the jury doesn’t like you, and you’re the defendant in a criminal court case? That happens. Happens a lot in criminal cases.
When it does—you should’ve stayed in your seat at the counsel table. Let your lawyer do the talking for you. That’s what advocacy is all about.
But Dr. Gaines was handling it. She and her attorney had a good back-and-forth on direct examination.
“Dr. Gaines, was the Union Springs health clinic your only option for employment after completing your residency?”
“No. I practiced in a primary care clinic in Birmingham. And I’d received offers of employment with health facilities in Alabama, Georgia, and Louisiana.”
“Why did you decide to open a practice in Union Springs?”
“Because I know there’s a serious shortage of health care providers in small towns and rural communities; it’s true everywhere in the US. And I can’t fix that, but I wanted to be part of the remedy by providing professional care where it’s needed most.”
It was a good point, and she delivered it well. Not overly pious, wasn’t demanding gratitude. Just stating the facts.
“Dr. Gaines, did you in fact perform a procedure that terminated Nova Jones’s pregnancy last spring?”
“I did.”
Just two words. Straightforward, no hesitation. I kept an eye on the jury. They were listening, waiting to hear more.
“And why did you terminate her pregnancy on that date?”
“She asked me to. Cocheta Bass—the middle school nurse, she’s deceased now—brought Nova Jones to my office. Nova asked me to help her. The help she needed was termination of pregnancy.”
There was a hush over the courtroom. I glanced over at the spectators, making sure that no one was getting ready to raise hell.
“Dr. Gaines, were you aware that state law in Alabama prohibits doctors from performing abortions?”
“Yes, but there’s one exception. In the language of the statute. It says that an abortion is permitted if the doctor determines that the abortion is necessary to prevent a severe health risk to the pregnant mother. I honestly and sincerely believed that the pregnancy was a severe health risk to Nova Jones. Due to her age, her circumstances, the circumstances surrounding the very fact of her pregnancy. I still believe it was the correct action.”
Ben Meyers turned to face the jury before he said, “No further questions.”
Eleanor Lindquist hopped out of her chair and advanced on Dr. Gaines. Initially, it surprised me to see Lindquist come forward, rather than Reeves. I’d have assumed that the DA would want to personally conduct cross-ex of the defendant, especially before a national audience.
But it made sense, tactically. One of the reasons Reeves had brought Lindquist on board was to eradicate the impression that the male DA was bullying a woman. When one woman cross-examines another, it improves the optics for the prosecution.
“When you aborted Nova Jones’s baby, it wasn’t due to a medical emergency. Right?”
“I believed there was a health risk…”
“Answer the question, Doctor. You know the difference between a medical emergency and a health risk. Was she suffering a medical emergency?”
The doctor took a moment before she replied. “I believed that her health—”
“It’s a yes or no question. Was there a health emergency?”
“In my opinion—”
“Yes or no, Doctor!”
“Objection!” Ben Meyers was on his feet, pointing at Eleanor Lindquist. “This line of questioning is argumentative!”
Well, it was. “Ms. Lindquist, give the witness time to answer.”
The AAG narrowed her eyes as she turned back to Bria Gaines.
“So! Dr. Gaines, you were aware that your patient Nova Jones was a thirteen-year-old girl. And she was pregnant.”
“Yes, of course I was aware of that.”
“Did you know the circumstance of the sexual activity that resulted in the pregnancy?”
“The rape? No, she didn’t inform me. I didn’t know any of the details.”
“But you knew that, at her age, the law would view her as a victim of rape—regardless of the particulars.”
“Yes. I knew that.”
“Dr. Gaines, you’ve told this jury that you wanted to help Nova Jones, correct?”
“Yes! That was my motivation, the reason I got involved.”
“If you wanted to help her, why didn’t you report her sexual abuse to the police?”
Bria looked like she had taken a punch to the gut. “I didn’t know—”
“Didn’t know what? The particulars? You knew some male had trifled with that girl, got her pregnant! But instead of calling the police, you killed the baby and left Nova Jones in the same situation you found her in, vulnerable to abuse and unprotected! Didn’t you?”
Dr. Gaines opened her mouth, then shut it. As if she was searching for words.
But Lindquist was triumphant, she had her in a headlock. “You are a mandated reporter! The law settles responsibility on you, to sound the alarm when you know or suspect a child is being abused. But you didn’t make a peep! For all you knew, you sent her back for another round of sexual assault the next day!”
“I had to choose!” Dr. Gaines said. Her voice was a desperate whisper.
“What did you say? You had to choose? So you chose to kill a baby and send Nova out, vulnerable for more abuse, is that right?”
She was louder when she answered. Dr. Gaines gave Lindquist a level look. “I had a choice. I could perform the abortion, or I could call law enforcement. I couldn’t do both. And if I’d called the police, they would have made her carry the pregnancy to term.”
Lindquist paced from the witness stand to the jury box, her whole body rigid with righteous indignation. “You want these jurors to believe your heart bled for Nova! You wanted to help Nova, save Nova! But you didn’t protect her. Didn’t tell her mother, or alert a social worker, or let the DA know that a person in the community had impregnated a thirteen-year-old girl. You did nothing to prevent her from being raped again.”
Eleanor Lindquist turned to the jury box. Huffed a humorless laugh and shook her head in disgust.
Two of the jurors in the box turned to each other, to exchange a look. Then one of them crossed her arms on her chest.
That meant something, definitely. But what?