Fighting for Dear Life (23 page)

Organizing my notes, I continued to believe there was no way the judge would ignore the obvious intent of Congress to keep Terri alive while he conducted a full review of the facts in this case. We needed time to bring in witnesses, perhaps even conduct new depositions or arrange new medical tests for Terri.

I anticipated that getting this job done right could take weeks, perhaps even months. But Terri had to be fed and hydrated in order to provide the time needed for a proper review. I glanced over at the opposing legal team and was stunned to see something like twenty-five attorneys hovering around George Felos. I didn't realize so many lawyers could be mobilized so quickly.

They were ready and loaded for anything.

With the crack of his gavel, Judge Whittemore called the hearing to order. It didn't take long before it was painfully evident to me that this judge was not happy about being told what to do by the United States Congress. No question about it in my mind: The judge wanted to make me answer for this last-minute rush by Congress to have Terri's case reviewed.

Another point of annoyance for him seemed to me to center around the very structure of our lawsuit. As these things go, the party filing a complaint is required to name the people they are suing. And one of the parties we happened to be suing was the state court judge George Greer. That is common procedure in a criminal habeas death penalty proceeding—you must name the state court and name the parties. But Judge Whittemore was clearly bothered by the fact that Judge Greer, a state court judge, was named in this civil death case.

After a particularly grueling exchange between us about this matter, Judge Whittemore—a former state court judge himself—decided that Judge Greer's death sentence would stand without further review. He had already examined the state court records. And he made it perfectly clear he had no intention of hearing evidence de novo (all over again). Tragically, just like that, all the valiant efforts of Congress and even the president himself, both coequal branches of government with the courts, were thwarted. It was clear this federal court would not step up and do for Terri what federal courts nationwide routinely do for convicted felons on death row—not even at the specific request of Congress and the president.

I'm not nai
ve. I realize there's always the potential for a political side whenever politicians are involved. However, many of them told me, ‘‘David, we'll get politically creamed over this. People will want to know why would the Congress get involved in just one woman's life?'' None of those with whom I spoke had ulterior motives that I picked up on. None felt that this was going to be politically popular.

And while I didn't speak with, and only once had the privilege of meeting President George W. Bush (when he was governor of Texas), if I ever get the opportunity, I will personally thank him for his commitment, sacrifice, and leadership in preserving life.

Speaking to an audience in January of 2006, the president said, ‘‘You believe, as I do, that every human life has value, that the strong have a duty to protect the weak, and that the self-evident truths of the Declaration of Independence apply to everyone, not just to those considered healthy or wanted or convenient. These principles call us to defend the sick and the dying, persons with disabilities and birth defects, all who are weak and vulnerable.''
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While President Bush was immediately castigated for his involvement in trying to save Terri's life, I believe future generations will look back at the actions of this Congress and this president and will record their actions as a hallmark of their commitment to life over political expediency. I also trust that Bob and Mary Schindler will one day be recognized for their unswerving commitment to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, their disabled daughter.

POLLS, POLITICIANS, AND POSITIONS

I realize it's easy to be cynical whenever politicians get involved in anything. Almost daily we hear about another misuse of governmental power, personal pockets enriched with funds from special interest groups, or influence peddling by lobbyists. So I wasn't entirely surprised when a number of polls taken in the wake of this historic effort suggested the public wasn't all that pleased with Congress's involvement in this life-and-death matter. Americans generally have a jaded and suspicious view of politics.

Polls, however, are highly influenced by how the specific questions are phrased. For example, in a nationwide Zogby International survey of 1,019 likely voters taken between March 30 and April 2, 2005, pollsters asked: ‘‘If a disabled person is not terminally ill, not in a coma, and not being kept alive on life support, and they have no written directive, should or should they not be denied food and water?

'' Guess what?

An astounding 79 percent said the patient should not have food and water taken away. And guess what else? That was exactly the way Congress had framed the question. When the same poll asked about Congress's involvement in the Terri Schiavo case, the results were statistically deadlocked: 44 percent favored it, 43 percent opposed the action.
3
That's radically different from what other pollsters found by asking the question in a very different way. Rather than focusing the question on a person's quality of life, they focused it on family privacy.

For instance, a CBS News poll conducted with 737 adults March 21–22, 2005, found that an overwhelming majority of Americans—82 percent—believed Congress and the president should have stayed out of the Schindler-Schiavo ‘‘family'' matter. Except that this ‘‘family'' matter had become a publicly disputed court case nearly ten years earlier. I was a little surprised, however, to note that 68 percent of evangelical Christians concurred with that assessment. When asked why Congress had gotten involved, 74 percent of those surveyed believed Congress was using the case to advance a political agenda and not just because it was the right thing to do.
4
Those results are similar to a CNN/USA Today/Gallup Poll taken April 1–2, 2005, of 1,040 Americans that found 76 percent disapproved of Congress's involvement in a so-called ‘‘private family matter.''
5
This matter hadn't been private for years. Likewise, the Pew Research Center discovered in a nationwide poll conducted by Princeton Survey Associates November 9–27, 2005, that of 1,500 adults surveyed, 72 percent believed Congress should have stayed out of the case and left the matter entirely to the courts.
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There's no question that Congress took a beating for defending Terri's rights and for wanting to give her the same shot at life that a convicted murderer would have in federal court.

That's unfortunate. I happen to applaud them. Having spoken with so many of the legislators myself—both Democrat and Republican—during the heat of the floor debate, I could tell this was one of those decisions where political ambitions, in most cases, took a backseat to trying to do the right thing just because it was the right thing. Perhaps the most troubling question that prompted many of the Congress members to act on Terri's behalf was this:
The state of Florida prohibits mercy killing, assisted suicide, and euthanasia. Florida has strict penalties for starving pets. How, then, could a Florida judge using Florida law permit—in fact, order—Terri Schiavo to be starved to death?

That's exactly the right question to ask. Frankly, I have yet to come up with a good answer for it. That's not the question that most of the public polls were asking. Yet it's the question we, as a nation, ought to ask. Why? So that what happened to Terri never happens again in a country that is supposed to protect life, liberty, and justice for all.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A MOTHER'S HEART

Removing somebody's feeding is very painless. It is a very
easy way to die. . . . And it doesn't bother me at all. I've seen
it happen. I had to do it with my own parents.

—M
ICHAEL
S
CHIAVO
1

N
o mother should ever have to endure the kind of heartache and agony that Mary Schindler experienced watching her daughter starve to death. No parents should be forced to stand by helplessly as their daughter struggles for her next breath. As long as I live, I'll never forget the last time Mary saw Terri alive.

Eight days into Terri's dehydration and starvation ‘‘process,'' as Michael and his attorneys were fond of calling it, Mary turned to me and said, ‘‘David, I'd like to go see Terri.'' We had been going to the hospice about once a day to encourage Terri. With her condition deteriorating by the moment, however, these visits became increasingly difficult for the family to bear.

While I wanted to be supportive of Mary's wishes, I could tell she was weary. I said, ‘‘Mary, are you sure you're up to that?'' She nodded and said, ‘‘Yes, but can you go with me?'' I knew what she was driving at. Mary wanted my help navigating the pandemonium on the street. She also wanted me nearby just in case someone attempted to deny her access to Terri.

During these final days, a kind thrift store owner had closed his store, which was located just across the street from Woodside Hospice. He wanted to provide a place where the Schindlers could relax and meet with supporters. The building was surrounded outside by a sea of media trucks, journalists, protestors, and police, so the store was our one oasis in the midst of the storm. The moment we stepped outside, the media swirled around us. The fact that we were going to the hospice was always news. Cameras were focused on our faces. Microphones on long boom stands were pointed in our direction. Yet despite this blitz, the media was the source of much support for the Schindler family, and the Schindlers appreciated it—most of the time.

‘‘Is Terri still alive?''

‘‘How much longer can she hold on?''

‘‘What does she look like?''

Several police officers came to our aid and cleared a pathway for us. With the press at our heels—calling out questions, snapping photos, and rolling video to catch the Schindlers' profound grief—we reached the security area. After presenting our IDs and going through the now routine search for anything that might be used to feed or hydrate Terri, we made our way to the building.

Just beyond this security zone, the circular driveway led to a covered carport where patients and visitors would normally arrive and depart. As I approached the front doors, an American flag waved in the evening breeze from its pole. In the shadow of Old Glory, our national symbol of freedom, a decorative fountain sprayed a gentle stream of water four feet into the air. The irony would come to me later: The water Terri's parched lips craved flowed freely out here under the flag. But just inside those doors, I'd have been arrested on the spot for bringing her one drop.

Mary and I passed through the next security checkpoints and then walked down the hallway to Terri's room. Standing just outside her door while the guard double-checked our names on his approved visitor's list, I was startled to
hear
Terri before I could
see
her. When a healthy person breathes, they take in air and exhale air naturally. But when a person starts to die, they move into what is called the death pant. It's a rapid, short gasp for air similar to an animal panting after running around on a hot day.

Terri's breathing was severely labored. We assumed she didn't have a lot of time left. Frankly, standing at the threshold of her life-and-death struggle was more than a little unsettling. With an armed guard never more than several feet from us, we walked in. Mary immediately went to Terri's bedside, and as was her habit, she cradled Terri's head and started to kiss her face.

This time, however, Mary started to sob.

As Mary cried, her words tumbled out in a half-prayer, half-confession plea: ‘‘Oh, God, help Terri. . . . Terri, don't fight it . . . oh, sweet Terri. . . . Jesus, please help my girl. . . . Terri, it's too late, there's nothing we can do. . . . Don't fight it. You'll be at peace soon. . . . I love you, honey.''

Not wanting to get in the way, I remained at the foot of the bed. As I watched Mary cry and talk and pray, my heart hurt so bad. I wanted to cry. I wanted to yell. There are no words to describe what it's like to witness a mother weeping over her dying daughter.

A PAINLESS DEATH?

Several days before Mary's final visit, Michael Schiavo appeared on ABC's
Nightline
and told the world that Terri ‘‘doesn't feel pain. She doesn't feel hunger.'' Speaking as if he had researched the topic of dehydration and starvation, he added in clinical tones, ‘‘So what's going to happen is slowly, her potassium and her electrolytes will slowly diminish and she will drift off to a nice little sleep and eventually pass on to be with God.'' Michael added, ‘‘Death through removing somebody's nutrition is very painless. . . . It is a very painless procedure.''
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Really?