37

Grab your coffee and a notepad. We’ve got some work to do. Actually, bring your laptop, too,” I said, flagging Brynn down the minute I saw her after I returned to the office.

I flipped open my laptop and sank into the chair, a legal pad within reach. It was only 8:15. Plenty of time to get a head start on a financial investigation into the Renacido Center before I met Nurse Ocampo at her apartment. I’d corralled Cai into offering an opinion on the NDA, and we were scheduled to meet at 10:30.

“Okay, boss, what do you need? Oh, before I forget, I met that Darius guy yesterday at the checking-cashing place. The guy is freaking out. Says he’s willing to talk, but only if we can guarantee he won’t be prosecuted.”

“He said that?”

“Sure did. Obviously that’s beyond my pay grade, but I said I’d see what I could do. Translation, I’d throw it back in your lap.”

“Nicely done.” I laughed. “Keep in contact with him. Let him know it’s being worked on, but be evasive. Just smooth it over enough to keep him calm. I’ll reach out to my legal contacts and see if that’s an option. They’ll want some tidbit proving what he knows before committing, however.”

I sent a brief text to my former boss, State’s Attorney Denton Tierney. I’d need the big guns on this.

“Set Darius aside for now. I want to dive into the financial situation of the Renacido Center. We know a little bit about their legal structure, but we need a deep dive into their finances. I want names of anyone who might be associated with the company that aren’t listed on the website. I want to know who’s on their board. I want to know any properties they own. I want to know any loans they have outstanding with anyone. Basically, I want a deep dive into how they’re making their money and who stands to benefit from their success or their failure.”

Brynn was jotting down notes on her laptop. “Is this about that death a year ago? The one with the legal action?”

I nodded. “In looking through the fillings, I saw that the attorney handling the case had specifically subpoenaed records about the company ownership and asked for names of any unidentified individuals. Common practice. You ask for things sometimes just to see what might float to the surface. He was setting the foundation to go after them for a financial payout and wanted to make sure there was no money buried. Normal lawyer work.

“Most rehab centers are small businesses, unless they’ve been gobbled up by a larger entity. And I’ve been assuming the same about Renacido, but now I’m wondering whether there might be other money behind this. This phrase keeps coming up, ‘future rewards,’ as if there’s some kind of financial payout coming at some point down the road or a plan for expansion in the future. And then there’s the secrecy. Dr. Wykell is withholding protocol details, putting a lot of conditions on his staff, and it’s got me suspicious. What if there is something and Wykell has come up with a breakthrough in treating addiction?”

“He’d be a gazillionaire overnight,” Brynn said, eyes glued to her screen, fingers already working their magic on the keyboard.

“Exactly, provided it was something that he, and he alone, could control. It would have to be proprietary,” I said, thinking out loud. “The guy isn’t running a drug company. He’s not developing a new magic pill.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I considered it for a moment. “Well, that would require him to be working with someone else, a drug company or a lab somewhere. One of the possibilities is use of an off-label drug called ibogaine. It’s illegal in the US but taken in capsule form in some other countries.”

“But there are private labs that would do the work.”

“There are, but at some point, in order to move down that path, there’s an awful lot of government red tape to go through.”

“Would that require some kind of drug trial? Wouldn’t the FDA be involved?”

“If you think about vitamins, for instance, there are things being done, like high doses of vitamin C delivered intravenously that the FDA really doesn’t control. What they do control, are any claims made.”

“You mean they can’t claim the infusion would make you twenty years younger or cure your cancer. That would be false advertising.”

“Exactly. However, there are doctors who’ve seen results in their own patients and feel they’ve cured quite a number of diseases using these methods, whether it’s intense nutritional therapy or compounds used in conjunction with conventional treatment. They wouldn’t make promises and would never make claims in advertising, but they would be able to discuss the options with patients in person.”

“Sounds like a way to skirt the law,” Brynn said.

“Maybe, in the wrong hands. It’s always about money, right? Maybe, they intend to hide the inclusion of the ibogaine. Remember the energy drink story? Caffeine, taurine, there were all kinds of suspect ingredients and quantities. Lots of supplements have unidentified compounds in them, purposefully or not. Maybe Wykell intends to create a brand name or use marketing language that doesn’t identify the substance. Ibogaine is plant based.”

“So, more like a trade secret. A Big Mac special sauce kind of thing.”

“Nobody releases the formula for making Kentucky Fried Chicken. It’s kept under lock and key. Couldn’t addiction treatment be handled the same way?”

“I guess, but you’d know more about the legal process than I would.”

“If we start with the premise that the center is working on some kind of unique protocol and wants to make money off of it, then the whole picture changes.”

“You mean these deaths might be an overdose of one of the ingredients, or some sign that they don’t have the formula worked out. They are the clinical trial.”

“That’s why I want to know who stands to profit. Desperation can lead to all kinds of cover-ups.”

“You’ve asked for some unusual favors along the way, but this is a new one. I’d prefer a little foreplay, but are you at least going to buy me dinner after?”

Cai had just jumped out of a cab in front of Darna Ocampo’s apartment, where I waited.

“I’ll buy you whatever you want,” I said, laughing.

“How’s this going to go down?” Cai asked, lifting her Dior sunglasses to her head.

“As I said on the phone, Darna is conflicted. She’s signed an NDA with her employer that says she won’t speak about any of their treatment protocols. However, I believe that there is some indication of medical malpractice. She’s nervous enough to understand that she’s at risk, but she is equally concerned about her employer’s wrath. So what I need you to do is to take a look at the contract and give her whatever legal advice you would give any client who walked into your office. Should she do the right thing for the greater good or protect her own ass?”

“Sometimes they are one and the same,” Cai said.

“Let’s go see if she’s home.” We walked up to the building, and I rang the buzzer for apartment four, waiting a moment before hearing the electronic click of the door. We walked in and proceeded to the second floor. Darna’s door was already open when we got there, and she peered at us around the frame looking cautiously from me to Cai.

“Come on in,” she said. We followed her into a cozy but extremely small living room where we were offered seats on a floral couch.

“Darna, this is Cai Farrell. She’s an attorney, a friend that I trust completely, and she specializes in contract law.”

Darna looked at Cai expectantly, nervously clenching her hands in her lap.

“Ms. Ocampo,” Cai said. “This is an informal conversation. I am here simply to look at the contract. Based on the details, I can get a sense of your risks and perhaps offer up an opinion on your options. Is that okay with you?” Darna nodded. “Do you happen to have a copy of the contract?”

“Yes.” She picked up a manila folder from the coffee table and handed it to Cai. Pulling open the contents, Cai leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as she read. Darna distracted herself by petting one of the tabbies now rubbing his head against her leg.

“You’re correct,” Cai said, looking directly at Darna. “This contract prohibits you from speaking in any form about patients, doctors, the facilities, or the protocols of the center. And you are right to be cautious, as there are some significant legal and financial consequences for breaking the terms. So, the issue becomes, what is the level of risk. And by that I mean, are the behaviors, let’s just call them that, of the center so egregious that they negate the intent of this document.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, as one example, you can’t be compelled to cover up a crime using the NDA to gag you. Whether you are clear of risk is not something I can answer for you. I’m not privy to the center’s culpability. So what you need to decide is whether or not what you’ve seen at the center constitutes danger or risk to the life and well-being of the patients under your care. If there are behaviors that the ownership or management of the company knowingly forced employees to engage in that in turn compromised patient health, then the likely outcome of any legal jeopardy you are in today is extremely different.” Cai paused. “I’m afraid I must also state that your own behavior may be called into question in the event of an incident. And the NDA would not protect you.”

“So what you’re saying is I’m protected only if I become a whistleblower.” Darna’s voice had gone flat. She stared back at Cai with the eyes of someone who had everything to lose. It was an agonizing dilemma and, sadly a tactic I’d seen many times in the past—the wealthy and well-connected running legal roughshod over anyone in their path. She stood and moved over to the window, the cat still at her feet. Cai and I waited, giving her a moment to process.

“Can you help me?” Darna said. “Can you represent me or find someone who will? I’ll tell you everything I know after I have a lawyer.”

“I’ll speak to a colleague of mine,” Cai said.

“With Paul dying over the weekend, I can’t pretend anymore,” Darna continued, her voice cracking. “This treatment works, I know it does, but we clearly don’t have all of the information. We’re missing something. Maybe there’s a problem with the quality of the ingredients or the dose is wrong. But I can’t be part of this if others might die and I could have prevented it.”

“I’ll get your contact information from Andrea and we’ll be in touch later today,” Cai said. “In the meantime, could you give me the name and phone number of the individual who runs things at Quantum Holdings?”

“Wait. Quantum Holdings?” I said as Cai and Darna stared at me.

“That is the company name listed on the NDA,” Cai said. “Is something wrong?”

“Quantum Holdings was also the owner of the house Lane bought.” I turned to Darna who clearly wasn’t following the connection. “The same house that Zoe Symanski died in.”