The Art of Forgetting (40 page)

              Dr. Fisk was an unapologetic Texan. The son of a Houston oil tycoon, Fisk had embraced a cowboy persona despite his high society upbringing and Ivy League education (if you considered Rice University part of the Ivy League which Fisk damn well did). He walked the hospital corridors with a swagger in a heel-toe gait that seemed designed to best display his trademark snake skin boots (custom made in the same Fort Worth shop that supplied Willie Nelson and George W. Bush) which he even wore in the operating room under the requisite disposable booties. Oddly, his Texas drawl seemed to get thicker with each passing year he spent in the Midwest.

              On either side of Fisk were Dr. Ira Feynman, a middle-aged oncologist with a lingering smile which was eternally discordant with his mournful eyes, and Dr. Priscilla Townshend, a serious, efficient endocrinologist with intimidating good looks.

              Dr. Fisk rapped his heavy jade pinky ring on the table top and said, “Alright y’all, I’m gonna call this meeting to order.” He picked up a piece of paper and read, “This is a closed hearing of the Faculty Disciplinary Tribunal convened to review and investigate charges of egregious professional misconduct on the part of Dr. Lloyd Copeland of the department of Neurology.” Fisk paused and clucked his tongue. He glanced at Lloyd. “Dr. Copeland, I trust you’ve had a chance to review the charges brought against you?”

              “I have,” Lloyd said.

              “And you’ve had time to review the code of professional conduct and the handbook on…” Fisk fumbled through some documents.

              “The university’s rules for due process in the investigation of faculty misconduct,” Townshend said.

              “That’s the one,” Fisk said, the canyons of his scowl deepening.

              “Yes, I have,” Lloyd said.

              “Well, all right then. Let’s get this shindig started.” Fisk leaned back in his chair and swiveled to face Dr. Feynman.

              Feynman said, “Dr. Copeland, just so we’re clear, Dr. Fisk, Dr. Townshend and I have been selected to sit on this judicial panel by the hospital’s executive committee and the Dean of the School of Medicine. We’ve been entrusted to listen to the facts, review all the evidence presented, formulate a decision and make our recommendations directly to the Dean within five days. The testimony of all witnesses in this proceeding is expected to be truthful as if under oath.”

              “We don’t seem to have a bible in this little library,” Fisk said.

              Feynman’s eyes seemed especially sad but were parried by his widening smile. “Also, though we try to follow the general principles of courtroom procedure, we are allowed a fair amount of leeway in how the hearing is conducted.” He paused and Lloyd nodded. “As you know, formal legal counsel is not allowed in these proceedings but you’re permitted to have a faculty member in good standing serve as an advisor. For the record, Dr. Copeland has picked Dr. Martin Bender in this regard.”

              “Right,” Fisk said. “Dr. George Lasko, the newly elected Chief of Staff and the complainant in this matter has elected to personally present the case against you.” He turned to Lasko. “Please proceed.”

              Dr. Lasko rose to his feet. “Honestly, it’s hard to know where to start.”

              “The beginning’s always a good place,” Fisk said.

              Lasko cleared his voice. “What I mean is that the charges against Dr. Copeland are many and cover the entire range of faculty misconduct. They include the violation of professional or ethical obligations, fraud and misconduct in research or professional activities, violation of campus rules and regulations, commission of a criminal act and other grave misconduct. Let us start with the willful and wanton insubordination towards a senior faculty member.”

              Fisk scratched his jaw. “Would that senior faculty member be you?” he asked.

              Lasko raised his chin. “Why yes it is.”

              “Well, begging your pardon,” Fisk said, “this all seems a tad…” he turned to Dr. Townshend, “what’s the word I’m looking for?”

              “Self-serving,” Townshend said.

              “Thank you ma’am,” Fisk said. “I think I speak for all of us on the panel when I say I find it self-serving and frankly a tad petty for the Chief of Staff to prosecute a case of insubordination committed against his own person. Let’s skip the finger food, Dr. Lasko, and rustle up some steaks.”

              “Very well,” Lasko said, maintaining his composure. “I plan to prove to the tribunal that Dr. Copeland knowingly and willfully engaged in unapproved research, violating the directives of an Institutional Review Board, squandering university assets. And that in the pursuit of this unsanctioned research he blatantly violated the institutional rules to protect the welfare of animals utilized in scientific research. Furthermore, the tribunal will hear compelling testimony from a physician in training who will testify that Dr. Copeland did willfully subject him to an aggravated assault and battery on campus, which is not only a violation of the professional code of conduct but rises to the level of a criminal violation that merits prosecution in the courts.”

              “If I may make a suggestion,” Fisk said. “Let’s tone down the lawyer lingo. It makes me chafe. And take a load off. There’s plenty of chairs in this saloon. You’re bound to make someone jumpy standing there like that.”

              Lasko clenched his jaw. He narrowed his eyes but said nothing and sat on the edge of his chair with a stiff spine.

              “I take it the last charge you referred to was the incident involving Dr. Todd English?” Fisk asked.

              “Yes,” Lasko said.

              “Very well. Mrs. Clarke, can you check if Dr. English has arrived?”

              The secretary headed for the door, opened it and poked her head out into the hallway. A muted conversation followed. She opened the door widely and stepped back. Stanley Kowalski and Nick De Luca walked into the conference room.

              “You Dr. English?” Fisk asked Kowalski.

              “I’m Dr. Kowalski from Pathology.”

              “And who’s that guy?”

              “I’m Nick De Luca, chief of security for the hospital.”

              “
I’ve
requested the presence of Mr. De Luca,” Lasko said.

              “Well, where the hell’s this English fella?”

              “He won’t be coming,” Kowalski said. He handed Fisk an envelope while De Luca ambled around the table to sit next to Erin. Fisk creased his brow, took the envelope, opened it and pulled out a one page letter. He quietly read it and handed it to Dr. Townshend.

              “We’ve just received a notarized affidavit signed by Dr. Todd English,” Fisk said. “He has recanted his prior version of the event in question and refuses to file any form of official complaint against Dr. Copeland.”

              Lloyd glanced at Stanley Kowalski. The pathologists’ eyes were beaming, his cheeks puffed out and rosy.

              “In that case,” Dr. Feynman said, “I’d like to make a motion to strike that item from the agenda and proceed to the other charges.”

              “Not so fast,” Lasko said. “Dr. English may refuse to file charges but the fact remains that Dr. Copeland’s vicious attack violates the university’s code of conduct.”

              “But without Dr. English’s testimony, this banjo won’t play,” Fisk said.

              “I don’t need his testimony,” Lasko said. “I have all the evidence I need in the form of a video taken by our security cameras.” Lasko turned to De Luca and nodded.

              De Luca pulled a flash drive out from his pocket and inserted it in the USB drive of a laptop computer. He tapped on the keyboard and a few moments later a flat screened monitor on a movable cart lit up in solid blue. Then a fixed black and white image appeared on the screen. Lloyd recognized it as the view of the parking garage from a high perch. Erin came into view on the video. She was walking between two cars when a short, stocky man with a crew cut strode up behind her and took hold of her purse straps.

              “No, this ain’t right,” De Luca said.

              “Can you please explain what’s going on?” Fisk asked.

              “It’s the wrong video,” De Luca said. “This here’s the video of how Dr. Copeland foiled that purse-snatcher that was prowling our garages a few weeks back.” De Luca folded his arms as he gazed at the screen, and with a bit of overacting said, “I just don’t’ know how we would have ever caught the perp if it hadn’t been for Dr. Copeland.” De Luca hit pause and froze the video on a frame that showed Lloyd with his arm around the thief’s neck.

              “Are you saying Dr. Copeland helped capture the purse-snatcher?” Dr. Townshend asked.

              “Don’t know how we could have done it without him,” De Luca said.

              Townshend turned to Fisk and Feynman and said, “That creep shattered my nurse’s mandible.”

              Fisk inhaled deeply. De Luca waited a moment before tapping away on the computer’s keyboard.

              “I think this is it,” De Luca said. He opened another file and turned to look at the screen. The video showed a kid’s soccer game. “Now how in the world did this get in here?” De Luca pointed a finger at the screen and smiled. “Right there, that’s Nicky Junior. Just look at the footwork, would you? Top scorer in the league.”

              “Mr. De Luca,” Lasko said. “We don’t care about your son’s soccer exploits and my patience is growing thin. Can you please show us the right video?”

              “I’m afraid I can’t,” De Luca said. “It looks like I picked up the wrong flash drive. But don’t worry. I’ll have one of my guys bring the right one over straight away.” De Luca pulled a walkie-talkie off his belt and was already talking when he stepped out the door into the hallway.

              Fisk looked at his watch and frowned. “You got anything else we can chew on while we wait, Dr. Lasko?”

              Lasko shifted some papers. “On the matter of animal cruelty, I’d like to call Dr. Norbert of the Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee.”

              Dr. Norbert must have been waiting in the hallway because he was quickly summoned into the library where he took a seat next to Dr. Townshend. Lasko questioned him with lawyerly zeal. Norbert testified that he had inspected Lloyd’s laboratory and that, insofar as the injected prions led to a mouse’s death, his actions did constitute an act of animal cruelty. When Lasko was satisfied with the testimony, he made a stiff bow of his head and sat back in his chair.

              Feynman turned to Lloyd. “Do you have any questions for Dr. Norbert?”

              “I do,” Lloyd said. “Dr. Norbert, when you inspected my lab, what was your general impression of its conditions?”

              “I’d have to say that I had a very favorable impression.”

              “Was it clean?” Lloyd asked.

              “Nearly spotless.”

              “Did the animal research subjects appear to be well cared for?” Lloyd asked.

              Norbert smiled. “Are you kidding? Classical music, fresh vegetables, who can argue with that?”

              “So your assessment of animal abuse hinges entirely on the purported infection of a single mouse leading to its subsequent demise.”

              “That’s correct. Though I’ve been told that other mice have died more recently.”

              “So if the cause of death of the mice in question was shown not to be a prion mediated disease, you would have to reconsider your assessment of animal cruelty?” Lloyd asked.

              “I would have to retract it entirely,” Dr. Norbert said.

              “Thank you.” Lloyd turned to Fisk and said, “I guess this is where I say something like, I have no further questions.”

              “Yeah, I’ve seen that on Matlock too,” Fisk said.

              “I have a rebuttal to make,” Lasko said. “Dr. Copeland likes to speak in hypothetical terms but the fact remains that an autopsy report clearly establishes that the mouse in question did in fact perish as a direct consequence of his reckless treatment.” He picked up a piece of paper, got to his feet and handed it to Dr. Feynman before settling in his seat again. Lasko raised his chin and gave his jacket a tug on the lapel to fix the way it fell on his shoulders.

              Lloyd began to speak. “Brain sections show global spongiform changes with neuronal loss and the formation of amyloid plaques. Other organs reveal no significant pathologic abnormalities. Final diagnosis: spongiform encephalitis consistent with prion disease.”

              Feynman looked up from the report. “I see you’re familiar with the report.” He turned to Townshend and Fisk. “That’s what the autopsy says, word by word.”

              “So what say you, Dr. Copeland?” asked Fisk.

              “We’ll revisit the wording of the pathology report in a moment. But now I’d like to call on the testimony of Dr. Stanley Kowalski, Associate Professor of the Department of Pathology and a recognized expert on prion disease.” Lloyd glanced at Martin Bender and added, “The man who actually performed the autopsy in question.”