A Civil Action (7 page)

Despite Heath’s doubts about clusters, he still felt it was “highly likely” that infectious agents played a role in the cause of childhood leukemia. But any such agent, he thought, would have to be a pathogen of low potency, one that was widespread but affected only a very few susceptible individuals. And he no longer had much faith that epidemiological investigations would yield any answers to childhood leukemia. The available techniques were too crude and the disease too rare to establish any firm connection between cause and effect.

Nevertheless, when John Truman called him, Heath was duty-bound to investigate. He arranged to send an epidemiologist to Boston to meet with Truman and to collect the records of leukemic children from other Boston area hospitals.

7

Reverend Young left John Truman’s office more certain than ever that there was an epidemic of leukemia in east Woburn. And then events began to converge. Charles Ryan, the
Daily Times
reporter who had written about the arsenic lagoon, had just completed a story concerning a study of cancer mortality by the state’s department of public health. In Woburn, deaths from all cancers had increased by 17 percent
during a five-year period in the mid-1970s. The incidence of leukemia in particular, and to a lesser extent kidney cancers, was alarming. “Even though cancer seems to be on the increase in Woburn,” wrote Ryan, “there is no way of knowing if that increase is due to the toxic wastes found in north Woburn.”

After reading this story, Reverend Young immediately called Charles Ryan at the
Daily Times
and told him about the leukemia cluster he and Anne had discovered. Ryan’s second story appeared on December 12, 1979, on the front page of the paper under the headline
CHILD LEUKEMIA ANSWERS SOUGHT
.

The mayor, unhappy with the publicity the city had received about the arsenic lagoon in north Woburn, was even less happy with Reverend Young’s activities. “For anyone with little or no authority to give the impression that there is a major health crisis within the confines of the city, without factual evidence to back up their statements, is totally irresponsible,” announced the mayor at a city council meeting. Reverend Young heard that the mayor, in private conversation, was furious about the “panic” and “hysteria” created by reports of high cancer rates. The chamber of commerce warned publicly about declining property values and other serious economic effects. “Businesses may decide not to expand, or even to move out of the area,” one speaker told the chamber. “Industrial land may not be sold because of the problem. Property values may be down.” The chamber’s vice-president foresaw “an exodus of business” and said, “We’ve got to try to head that off.”

That December the Centers for Disease Control formally requested permission from the city to launch an investigation into the possible leukemia cluster. With help from the Massachusetts Department of Health, an epidemiologist from Atlanta began designing a study for Woburn. Trained researchers from the department of health would be sent to the homes of the twelve families with leukemic children and conduct in-depth interviews on a wide range of subjects. The researchers would also interview twenty-four other Woburn families that had been selected as controls, matched by age and sex with the leukemic families. The study, said the experts, would take a year to complete.

Reverend Young worried that those in authority would try to minimize or even suppress the results of the investigation. On Sunday mornings, from the pulpit at Trinity Episcopal, he began to speak
about environmental contamination in Woburn and the high incidence of leukemia. He seized every opportunity to speak in public on the issue, and granted interviews to any reporter who asked. To a
New York Times
reporter, he said, “I set out to prove [Anne] wrong, that cancer and leukemia don’t run in neighborhoods, but she was right.” When Senator Edward Kennedy’s office invited both him and Anne to testify in Washington before the Senate Committee on Public Works and the Environment, he immediately accepted. Anne told the minister she would not go. She had to take care of Jimmy. Young insisted. “You must do this for Jimmy,” he told her.

So Anne went. She spoke only briefly, but her words became the headline in
The Boston Globe
’s story the next day. “We fear for our children, and we fear for their children,” she said. “The neighborhood lives in fear.”

8

Donna Robbins got a visit from two researchers working on the CDC investigation one evening in July 1980, seven months after John Truman’s call to Clark Heath. The researchers asked Donna about the medical histories of everyone in the family, how often they had been exposed to X rays, how many pregnancies and miscarriages she’d had. They asked about her and her ex-husband’s jobs, their ethnic and religious backgrounds, their church and community activities, their eating habits, hobbies, and household pets. Did she keep a garden? Had she or her sons ever fished or waded in Woburn lakes and streams? Had she ever smoked cigarettes? Painted her apartment? Used hair spray or hair dye? Traveled outside Woburn? The entire process took nearly two hours. Donna answered as best she could. After the researchers left, she realized that they had never asked her about the tap water.

A few weeks later, Donna got a call from the Woburn lawyer who had handled her divorce, the same lawyer who’d referred her to Reed & Mulligan about Robbie’s hip operation. The lawyer said he’d been following events in the newspaper. He asked Donna if she’d thought about a lawsuit, perhaps against the city. Donna said the idea had not occurred to her. “Well,” said the lawyer, “you might call Joe Mulligan and see what he thinks.”

Donna raised the subject with Reverend Young the next day. The idea intrigued the minister. He thought a lawyer might help them get some answers. He told Donna he’d be happy to meet with Mulligan and explain the circumstances in Woburn.

Donna called Joe Mulligan. The lawyer expressed interest in meeting with Young and seeing if there was indeed a case. Although nothing had yet come of the case concerning Robbie’s hip, Donna still had faith in Mulligan. He had always treated her kindly. He still assured her periodically that Robbie’s case was developing, and she believed him.

The following week Mulligan drove out to Woburn in his white Cadillac, and Donna greeted him at the back door of the church. She escorted him through the hallway cluttered with the Trinity Thrift Shop’s wares, the piles of old clothes, the chipped dishware and battered toys. Bruce Young’s small, dark office was almost as cluttered as the hallway, and Mulligan seemed to fill all the space.

Reverend Young unfolded the map with the leukemia cases and showed it to Mulligan. He explained how he and Anne had put the map together, told him about his visit to Truman’s office, and described the way the city officials had reacted. “The odds of a cluster like this occurring by chance,” the minister told Mulligan, “are on the order of a hundred to one.”

Mulligan seemed impressed. Twelve children with leukemia—eight of them within a half-mile radius, six of them living almost next door to each other—and contaminated drinking water. It was, in legal terms, as Mulligan later said, “almost
res ipsa loquitur
”—the thing speaks for itself. There was, however, Mulligan pointed out, one significant problem: Who was to blame for the TCE in the wells? Reverend Young replied that the Environmental Protection Agency had just begun an investigation. Once the agency completed its report, they’d know the source. Mulligan suggested that he meet with the families. Reverend Young agreed to make the arrangements. And Mulligan departed, carrying a file of newspaper clippings that the minister had collected.

Since Anne knew most of the families, Reverend Young gave her the job of calling them to meet with the lawyer. The task made Anne uncomfortable. She wasn’t certain how some of the people might react
to the idea of hiring a lawyer. She wrote down what she wanted to say and rehearsed it a few times: “We thought it might be a good idea to meet with an attorney to see what the possibilities are.”

One woman whose son had died recently said coldly, “That was never on my mind.” The woman’s tone seemed to accuse Anne of attempting to turn a child’s terrible misfortune into profit. And a few families whose children were doing well in treatment declined the invitation. Anne thought perhaps they were superstitiously afraid, as if going to the law would cause their children to have relapses. But most of the families with leukemia in their households seemed interested.

The meeting with Mulligan took place late in August at the church. Mulligan introduced himself and talked a little about his firm and the sort of cases he had handled. For the most part he listened to the families tell their stories. The big question was whom to blame for the contamination of Wells G and H. Most people thought the old Woburn tanneries were probably responsible. One person suggested they could sue the city or the state. Certainly the city had been warned, time and again, about the water quality, yet the officials had paid no heed. Another man, the owner of a supermarket in town whose daughter had died two years earlier, vehemently opposed that idea. He feared his customers would disapprove of a lawsuit against the city, especially if it resulted in raising taxes to pay the cost of a judgment.

Someone asked Mulligan how much they would have to pay for his services. Mulligan explained that they would sign a standard contingency fee contract, which would entitle him to receive one third of any recovery, plus expenses he incurred in developing the case. The families had no obligation to pay him unless he settled the case or won a judgment in court.

Mulligan made a good impression on most of the families. They liked his confidence and assurance, and the way he listened to their comments and observations. He hadn’t made any grand promises, but he had mentioned in passing some of the cases he had worked on, and he seemed like an able lawyer.

At a second meeting some weeks later, in September, Mulligan asked those families interested in signing on with him to call at his office and arrange for an appointment. Five of the families—Anderson, Robbins, Zona, Kane, and Toomey—decided to have Mulligan represent them.
That autumn, they drove into Boston to complete the paperwork and sign the standard personal injury contract forms.

9

Charles Anderson had been offered a promotion that required him to move to Toronto. He told Anne that he wanted to accept the offer, and he wanted her and the children to come with him.

Anne replied that moving now would be unfair to Jimmy.

“Toronto is not the end of the earth,” said Charles. “They have good doctors there, too.”

In the summer of 1980, after nineteen years together, Anne and Charles separated. Anne remained in Woburn with the children.

Jimmy was now eleven years old. He was small and frail, and he attended school fitfully, but since his relapse five years ago his blood counts had remained stable. Anne believed that he would, in time, be completely cured of the disease.

Late that summer, however, Dr. Truman noted that the boy’s platelet count and white-blood-cell count were both falling. A bone marrow biopsy revealed immature cells with irregular nuclei. Although the cells were not typical of lymphoblastic leukemia, Dr. Truman feared the leukemia was recurring. He did two more bone marrow biopsies. The results were inconclusive. In November he discovered that the total number of cells in Jimmy’s bone marrow was decreasing rapidly, a condition known as aplastic anemia. The boy did not have leukemia, but without a functioning bone marrow, he would die just as certainly as if he did.

Truman had never encountered this development before and it puzzled him. He stopped chemotherapy immediately. He tried to stimulate Jimmy’s bone marrow into producing platelets and white blood cells by administering anabolic steroids. That had no effect. Jimmy’s condition worsened. Truman tried a more experimental form of treatment with a compound known as ATG. “That, too, was unsuccessful,” recalled Truman at his deposition. “Bleeding worsened. His normal protective white blood cells vanished. Infections worsened.”

On December 22, 1980, Anne called the Woburn fire department and asked for an ambulance to take her son to Massachusetts General.
Jimmy was bleeding steadily and profusely from his nose and his mouth, and his urine was grossly bloody. As the ambulance crew loaded the boy onto a stretcher, one of the firemen asked Anne, “Is your son a patient of John Truman’s?”

Anne, surprised, said, “How did you know?”

“My son had leukemia, too. Dr. Truman was his doctor.”

Anne had not seen the man at any of the meetings. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“John Lilley,” said the fireman.

Anne knew the name. She remembered that day almost six years ago, during Jimmy’s first relapse, when a distraught older woman had told her in the hospital corridor that a boy named Michael Lilley had just died.

Jimmy Anderson’s bleeding was controlled, although never completely arrested, by massive transfusions of platelets. He was twelve years old, and he knew his fate. “I’m going to die,” he told his mother angrily on the eighth day of his last hospitalization. “It’s not fair. I’ll never get out of here.”

The pain, which had always been present in recent months, became unremitting. He shook with chills, bled from the nose and mouth, had ringing in his ears and blurred vision. He complained especially about the pain in his stomach. When pain medication was not immediately forthcoming, he demanded it. “Don’t you understand?” he shouted at a nurse. “I really need it.”

The following day he became despondent. The nurses tried to coax him out of bed, but all he said was “I’ll never be able to go home.” Anne rarely left the hospital. On occasion she went to the cafeteria to eat, but most of her time was spent on the children’s cancer ward. Charles Anderson returned from Toronto to be with his son and to keep Anne company. By mid-January, the boy had reached a nadir. “Saga of intermittent fever goes on,” noted one of the nurses. “Mother has been here constantly and they both appear exhausted. Jim asking: Why me?”