Deke tried not to wince as Teri applied makeup to his face, but apparently wasn’t successful.
“You’re in no condition to be working today,” she said.
“I’d feel a lot worse sitting home,” he said, but at that moment the movement of Teri’s brush on his mangled face caused a sharp intake of breath.
“You sure about that?” Teri asked.
Deke didn’t answer.
“Concealer’s done,” she said.
Deke moved to rise, but Teri said, “Not so fast. I still need to apply foundation, and then bronzer.”
“My flight leaves in an hour.”
“I’ll be fast, even though I shouldn’t be enabling you.”
“If all goes well with today’s deposition, I’ll just be an observer,” Deke said.
“For your sake, I hope so. With all your tossing and turning, did you even sleep last night?”
Deke wasn’t sure if he had or not. His conversation with Sylvia kept replaying in his head. As bad as the failed rescue was, having to tell her what happened made it even worse. This time there wasn’t some sheriff to blame. It was all on him. The beating he was still giving himself was far worse than what Rodríguez had administered.
“Hard to sleep with a guilty conscience,” he said.
“But Lily wasn’t in the house. You couldn’t have rescued her anyway.”
“If we’d captured Rodríguez, it’s likely he could have told us where she was.”
“You freed three young women. That’s a good thing.”
The girls Rodríguez had called his “nieces” were Mexican nationals. The oldest was sixteen and the youngest was thirteen.
“Freeing them makes what happened not quite a disaster. At least the girls confirmed that Lily was with them until the day before yesterday.” He shook his head. “So close.”
Teri finished applying the bronzer and studied her handiwork. “Not bad,” she said. “You almost look human.”
“High praise from you.”
“Try to avoid touching your face and smudging my work,” she said. “I would kiss you, but I don’t want to mess up your makeup.”
“Those are words I never expected to hear,” Deke said.
* * *
Although Deke and Michael Carey were seatmates, neither man said much to the other during their flight to Indianapolis. Both prepared for the deposition. The philosophy at the law firm of Bergman/Deketomis was to allow their lawyers to gain experience by handing them the helm. In some ways it was the equivalent of having a child learn how to swim by throwing them into the deep end of the pool.
Usually, they started swimming.
Michael had been with the firm for about a year. Deke didn’t know the associate very well, but had heard good things from others. Michael’s background was a bit unusual. He’d been in the Air Force before being medically discharged and making a career change to pursuing law. When Michael had been hired, the firm believed they were getting a warrior.
Deke hoped so, but sometimes even promising young lawyers had trouble finding their footing. Today’s deposition would be the opening salvo in what was expected to be a protracted struggle with Parakalo Pharmaceuticals, one of the biggest and most lucrative pharmaceutical companies in the world. Bergman/Deketomis had brought a mass tort suit against Parakalo and its diabetes drug, Aeos. Deke wasn’t the lead lawyer in the action against Parakalo, but had agreed to help with the early depositions.
Over the loudspeaker, the flight attendant announced they were on final approach to Indianapolis International Airport. Corporate headquarters for Parakalo was only ten miles from the airport. The Parakalo Building was one of the biggest edifices in Indianapolis’s skyline, a monument to Big Pharma and bigger money.
Ten minutes later, the flight attendant announced the local time and temperature and said, “From all of us, we hope you enjoy your stay in the Crossroads of America, Indianapolis.”
To Deke’s ear, it almost sounded as if she had said “crosshairs.”
* * *
The two sides faced off across an oversized walnut conference table in a state-of-the-art meeting room. Judging by numbers, the Parakalo lawyers had the advantage. The Bergman/Deketomis legal team consisted of Michael, Deke, and a paralegal. Parakalo had double that number at the table, and a support system at the ready.
The court reporter had her hands poised, waiting on Michael to ask his next question. She wasn’t the only one waiting. Deke fought the urge to shift in his seat. He didn’t want his impatience to betray the doubts he was having about his associate’s cross-examination of the witness. They were almost fifteen minutes into the deposition. By that time, Michael should have been engaged in what the firm called “combat training.” You’d think that would be easy for a war vet. The associates were expected to conduct depositions in a prescribed manner only half-kiddingly referred to as “slash and burn.” Michael knew the methodology, but he was blowing it. Deke considered slipping him a note saying, Attack, attack, attack! And use the damn documents!
By dint of Michael’s softball questioning, Parakalo scientist Dr. Gerald Erskine was looking increasingly relaxed and comfortable. By now Erskine should have been feeling the heat over company emails and memos clearly showing criminal conduct by management. When a witness is in the hot seat, all the air-conditioning in the world shouldn’t keep him cool.
Michael asked, “Is it your contention, Dr. Erskine, that Aeos is completely safe in managing type 2 diabetes?”
Deke bit down on his lip. Hard. It was a classic setup question that every experienced witness hopes for, and it allowed Dr. Erskine the opportunity to take control of the narrative. Erskine smiled, ready to recite the company talking points about how no drug is completely safe, and how even the most benign drug isn’t without risks. He’d say how proud he was of his company and its important work, emphasize that the safety and efficaciousness of Parakalo’s drugs were valued above all things, and claim that the pharmaceutical company set the gold standard for drug development that was just short of miraculous.
Erskine could have come out of Hollywood casting playing the avuncular voice of reason. He had gray hair, sympathetic eyes, and a calm voice. That’s why it was essential that his mask be pulled back; Parakalo wanted Dr. Jekyll on display, but Bergman/Deketomis needed to reveal Mr. Hyde. Erskine and his team were putting out poison and calling it a miracle drug.
“As I am sure you are aware,” said Erskine, “the safety protocols at Parakalo are second to none . . .”
Deke had heard enough bullshit, and knew Erskine was just beginning. He coughed hard, reached for his throat as if in distress, then began coughing all the harder. Deke’s manufactured fit was enough to interrupt the direct examination. The way he looked, even with the damn makeup he was wearing, made believers of everyone there.
“Are you all right?” asked Michael.
The associate handed him a bottle of water; Deke managed to swallow a few gulps between bouts of violent coughing.
“Can we please have a short recess?” asked Michael, helping a still coughing Deke to his feet.
The two men exited the meeting room. When they were out of ear-shot of the others, Deke’s voice magically returned.
“I’m going to have to drive this deposition,” he said.
Michael couldn’t hide his wince. “But I know this case inside out.”
Deke tapped his head. “You know it here,” he said. “But you either don’t know it here”—he tapped his heart—“or you’re not showing it.”
“I can do better.”
Deke was glad the kid didn’t want to come out of the game. This was his first real experience coming to bat in the big leagues, and he clearly expected better from himself. As a young lawyer, Deke remembered a time when he’d had the reins taken away from him by a more experienced lawyer who hadn’t liked the way he was handling a case. It had been a harsh but necessary lesson. In fact, there was something about Michael that reminded Deke of when he’d been a wet behind the ears lawyer.
“And you will do better, but not today,” Deke said. “These opening depositions are critical to our ability to develop and control the themes we’ll be showcasing in the trial, and we can’t have you allowing this witness to develop their story line at the expense of ours. We need a blitzkrieg. We need rage. Every good trial lawyer has to channel controlled rage. If you’re not angry, no jury is going to get angry. Where’s your passion?”
Michael took a deep breath. “I was trained to be clear-headed.”
Deke could tell there was more to that story, but there wasn’t time for him to hear it. “And that’s a problem,” Deke said. “Righteous indignation needs to be a big part of your legal arsenal. How many people do you think Aeos has killed?”
The drug had been on the market for the better part of a decade. As Aeos sales had increased, so had the deaths associated with its usage.
“No one is sure what those numbers are.”
Deke raised his voice. “You make that sound as if it’s relevant. It’s not. What if this drug had killed your wife? You think you could show a little rage then? We need to speak for the dead. It’s our job to do that, whether we’re talking about one individual or a thousand. We’ve got the documentation linking Aeos to a murderer’s row of ailments suffered by its users, and you haven’t brought in even one of those documents in the fifteen minutes you’ve been deposing this witness. We’re talking about clinical data that shows bladder cancer, kidney disease, and liver failure, just to name a few. Parakalo’s own internal company documents show us everything in black and white, but you’ve been wasting our time asking this corporate shill where he went to school and what courses he took. Really?”
Deke shook his head. He didn’t like upbraiding an associate, but at the same time knew a wake-up call was absolutely essential to Michael’s development as a lawyer.
“If all those documents we’ve accumulated showing Parakalo’s cover-up of a dangerous drug don’t make you angry,” said Deke, “then I’ll have to get angry for you.”
* * *
Erskine and the two Parakalo lawyers were laughing about something when Deke and Michael returned to the conference room. When the proceeding was resumed, Deke said, “Dr. Erskine, isn’t it true that you suspected Aeos was a dangerous drug the very first time you reviewed the clinical data?”
“I would object to your calling it dangerous,” he said.
“I’m surprised at that, because I assume that before you came in here, you reviewed all the clinical data associated with Aeos going back over the last ten years.”
“Naturally, I reviewed all data that I deemed important.”
“In that case, you’ll need to explain to me how seven years ago you wrote an internal memorandum describing some of the serious side effects surfacing in patients who had been prescribed Aeos.”
“That sounds like wild speculation, Mr. Deketomis,” said one of the Parakalo lawyers.
“Speculation? It’s not speculation if that’s what Dr. Erskine wrote, is it? In fact, Dr. Erskine, why don’t you just read to us what you wrote seven years ago?”
Deke extended a document toward the scientist. Erskine collected it with a hand that suddenly had a slight tremor. Before beginning to read, he had to wipe away the slight sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead.
Four hours later, it looked as if Erskine had taken a long steaming sauna in what had been an expensive business suit.