Fighting for Dear Life (22 page)

I must share one last comment made during the debate. In what was a profoundly moving, personal story, Representative Bob Beauprez (R-CO) captured the heart of why so many senators and representatives worked through the Palm Sunday weekend to fight for Terri's life. He said:

I believe fairly deeply that life does have a purpose. I lost my father 6 months and 6 days ago tonight. And in his very final days, he too needed to be fed by a tube. He needed help with his basic bodily functions, could not get out of his bed, and could not take care of himself.

But in the 56 years of life I have been granted, Mr. Speaker, I shared the most intimate, the most profound moment I ever had with my father about 36 hours before he passed away, after he could no longer speak, after he could no longer feed himself or care for himself in almost any manner at all. He communicated with his eyes, and he communicated with a hand on my forehead in the most profound way imaginable.

I would have regretted deeply had I been denied that moment, and I am absolutely convinced, Mr. Speaker, that my father would have regretted having been denied that moment as well.

With time running out on Terri's life, Representative Tom DeLay, then Republican majority leader from Texas, said, ‘‘Terri Schiavo has survived her Passion weekend and she has not been forsaken. No more words, Mr. Speaker. She is waiting. The Members are here. The hour has come. Mr. Speaker, call the vote.''

The vote was called shortly after midnight.

At 12:34 Monday morning at the beginning of the Easter Holy Week, the House overwhelmingly passed S.686:
Terri Schiavo Incapacitated
Protection Bill
with more than a two-thirds majority (203 to 58 votes). Almost half of the Democrats present joined the Republicans in a bipartisan victory for Terri's life. While 174 representatives didn't vote on the legislation, many of them simply couldn't make the trip back to Washington, D.C., in time to place their vote. Others may not have wanted to put themselves on the record about this issue. But we thank God for those who were willing to stand up for Terri.

PARTY BREAKDOWN

At 1:11 AM, President Bush was awakened and promptly signed S.686 into law. With his signature, the jurisdiction of Terri's case moved from the state court to a federal judge for a de novo review—that is, to basically retry the case. As President Bush would explain later that day, ‘‘This is a complex case with serious issues. But in extraordinary circumstances like this, it is wise to always err on the side of life.''
5
Predictably, Michael Schiavo was outraged by this turn of events. He told CNN, ‘‘I think that the Congress has more important things to discuss,''
6
adding, ‘‘They're thumbing their nose up to the American people and the Constitution. This is a sad day for Terri.''
7
The Schindlers were elated beyond words. We had actually secured an Act of Congress. Terri would now have a fighting chance; we promptly filed a middle-of-the-night injunction in the federal district court in Tampa to have Terri's feeding tube reinserted. That afternoon, an excited Bob Schindler asked Terri ‘‘if she was ready to take a little ride . . . and get her some breakfast. I got a big smile out of her face. She seemed to be very pleased.''
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We were deeply thankful for the breakneck pace at which both legislative bodies in Washington, D.C., had worked over the Easter recess and grateful for a president who supported this emergency measure in the dead of night. Bolstered by this much needed burst of wind in our sails, we charted a course that would take the fight for Terri's life all the way to the United States Supreme Court—twice.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LITIGATING AT THE
SPEED OF LIGHT

If prisoners on death row are guaranteed federal review of
their cases, Terri Schiavo deserves at least as much
consideration.

—R
EPRESENTATIVE
J
OSEPH
P
ITTS
, P
ENNSYLVANIA
1

F
hen President Bush signed S.686 into law, our legal team began one final, incredible run through the federal courts in an effort to save Terri. I've been told we set a record in legal history: We had the only case that worked its way through the federal court system, to the United States Supreme Court, and back—
twice
—in just ten days.

Clutching a faxed copy of the congressional bill with the president's signature, as well as the documents we intended to file in federal court, I rushed to the hospice to meet Bob and Mary. The Schindlers reviewed and signed the paperwork, blinking back tears of hope. For the first time in years, it seemed to us all that victory just might be within our reach.

With signed documents in hand, I left the hospice and headed to my vehicle. Even though this was the dead of night, the media was still out in full force. They quickly caught up with me and pressed me for details about the breaking news. They asked whether they could follow us to the federal courthouse. No problem. This was a big break in the case—or so we were praying.

As I raced to the federal courthouse in Tampa, I maintained phone communication with the court clerk. It was about two o'clock in the morning and, naturally, at that time the court building was closed. Once again, we were granted exceptional treatment from those within the system who were sympathetic to the urgency of the matter. The court clerk had agreed to open up the building just for us. Small kindnesses like this went a long way in encouraging our spirits.

When I arrived, the media was already gathered on the sidewalk. The clerk politely but firmly informed the press that I was the only one permitted inside the building. As soon as I entered, the clerk locked the door behind us. The jangle of her keys reverberated in the empty lobby. Under the watchful eye of the security guards, the clerk, an extra staffer, and I moved through the darkened hallways.

The moment was surreal. It was difficult for my mind to grasp this swirl of activity. Had the Congress actually pushed through legislation to help Terri? Was that really the signature of the leader of the free world in my hand? Would Terri finally have what we thought she deserved: an additional review of her case in federal court? The echoing of our heels against the polished marble floor provided evidence that this was not a dream. With a ping, the elevator doors opened. Arriving at the third floor, we exited and hustled through the dimly lit maze of cubicles until we reached the clerk's office.

As we walked, I reflected on my immediate goal. I needed to ask the federal judge—who still had to be picked from a random pool of judges—to stabilize Terri. We needed the judge to immediately order a reinsertion of Terri's feeding tube and the resumption of her food and water. This would give us time to proceed in an orderly manner to have her case reviewed from the ground up. I had high hopes the judge might even rule on the Schindlers' initial pleadings almost immediately, which would not be out of the ordinary.

When the three of us arrived at the clerk's office, my heart sank when we learned that the computers weren't functioning properly. The clerk needed her computer to randomly assign the judge for the federal review. We were losing valuable time trying to get the system to work. After what felt like an eternity—but in reality may have been only minutes—a decision was made to handle this selection the old-fashioned way: I would draw the name of a judge by hand. While drawing names might sound like a fun thing to do at a birthday party, this process in court was cumbersome at best.

First, the available judges had to be individually identified, a process that, when done manually and without the aid of a computer, took what seemed to be an immense amount of time. We then had to create little slips of paper and toss them into the ‘‘hat''—in reality, a bowl-shaped object without a brim. At that point I reached in and pulled out a slip of paper: Federal District Court Judge James D. Whittemore, Middle District of Florida.

With the judge appropriately selected, the clerk had a decision to make. She was supposed to call and notify Judge Whittemore that he had been assigned the Terri Schiavo case. But when? Should the clerk wait until normal business hours to place the call, or should she wake the judge up at three AM? Knowing that every hour was precious to Terri, she decided to awaken the sleeping judge.

After faxing the congressional bill and the various legal documents to Judge Whittemore at home, we waited. And waited. My plan was to wait with the clerk and her associate until we received some direction from the judge. I thought it would be wise to be available to answer any questions. I also thought that any judge who looked at this Act of Congress and knew our well-publicized situation would surely respond favorably and expeditiously—at least by ordering the feeding tube to be reinserted to maintain Terri's health while further decisions were made.

I was wrong.

When the judge finally called the courthouse about an hour later, we had our first hint that this particular judge might not be exactly warm to our cause. Judge Whittemore indicated that he intended to deliberate the matter and then call a hearing sometime later that day. He told us to go home, assuring us he wouldn't rule on the matter before coming to his office in the morning. What would he do about Terri in the meantime?

Nothing.

And so there was nothing more for us to do at that moment either. I'm not sure if my head was spinning from what I had just heard or from the fact that we had really stepped onto the fast track and had covered an amazing amount of ground in just the last twenty-four hours.

We exited the building around four AM, and the media converged upon us. As I would quickly learn, the buzz on the pavement was that we had won—which, of course, wasn't even close to the facts. The bill passed by Congress had only opened the door to the possibility of a full federal review—but that assumed the judge, whose sleep we had just interrupted, would agree to undertake that review.

We still had a long, long road ahead. And that road had just gotten a lot bumpier. In order to pass the bill, the Senate had removed a specific directive to the federal court to reinsert Terri's feeding tube before beginning a fresh review of the case. In the version of the bill that was actually passed, that decision was left to the discretion of the judge. And this judge had not chosen to relieve Terri's suffering that night.

THREE DAYS AND COUNTING

Monday's predawn sky was a thick blanket of gray clouds, a product of Sunday's rainstorm. The streets were largely empty as I made my way home for some breakfast, a change of clothes, and a much-needed hour of sleep. In the stillness of those early morning hours, I poured my heart out to God. Without His blessing, these efforts wouldn't amount to anything of lasting value.

I prayed for Terri as she entered her third day without so much as a drop of moisture on her lips. I knew if she were not hydrated and nourished quickly, she might experience lasting mental and physical damage. I prayed for Bob and Mary too. They had been through so much suffering for so many years. And though their hopes had been bolstered by the courageous action of Congress on behalf of their daughter, they knew Terri still might not make it. In fact, at that point they might have been more realistic about the outcome than I was.

Even though I was physically spent, I knew we had to press on. For Terri. For disabled people everywhere. For life. And so I prayed for wisdom and strength for what lay ahead. Sometime after eight in the morning, I received a call notifying me that Judge Whittemore, rather than deciding to rule on the pleadings we had submitted, would hold a hearing that afternoon at three o'clock—a full twelve hours after we had filed our paperwork.

That seemed odd.

Over two hundred members of the House of Representatives had weighed, debated, and decided on a piece of legislation in a mere three hours. Why did this judge want four times as much time just to schedule a hearing? Granted, the world was watching every step closely. Yet congressmen and women had returned from their holiday recess, traveling hundreds—even thousands—of miles in order to respond when needed. A sitting president had flown back to the White House to be available. All had gone to great lengths to act in a timely fashion knowing Terri's life was on the line. Judge Whittemore's twelve-hour delay in scheduling a hearing and his refusal to immediately reinsert Terri's feeding tube were not good signs.

Minutes before three o'clock that afternoon, having cleared the ultratight security, I headed to the courtroom. In the hallway just outside the rather small and now crowded chamber, I bumped into Michael Schiavo's attorney, George Felos. With a wry grin, he said, ‘‘Mr. Gibbs, if I ever need to get something passed by the United States Congress, I'll know who to call.''

I'll take that as a compliment.

We took our places inside the courtroom. This federal judge literally had the power to decide whether Terri Schiavo would live or die.