Law and Addiction

by Mike Papantonio

  An enterprising camera team was waiting for Jake’s friends to arrive. They tried to waylay Deke and company, but the visitors didn’t even slow down.

  “I promise I’ll talk to you later,” Deke said, waving them off. “But right now we need to see our friend.”

  Security cleared their entry into the hospital, and the four of them were guided to Jake’s private suite. As Deke entered the room, he saw the IV lines that fed into Jake’s arm. The young lawyer had shaved and showered but still looked as if he’d been through an awful ordeal. Red insect bites, some of them infected, stood out on his exposed flesh. Still, Jake tried to be brave, calling out greetings to his visitors. Anna was the last to enter his room. When he saw her, Jake’s veneer broke, and tears began falling down his face. Anna hurried over to his side, where she took his hand.

  As he squeezed her fingers, Jake said, “I wanted to go cold turkey, but I’m not as strong as you are, Anna. And the doctors strongly advised me against even attempting that. They said I’m so weak it could kill me.”

  She wiped a tear from his cheek and said, “Weren’t you the one who told me treating addiction wasn’t a matter of strength or weakness?”

  He took a deep, unsteady breath, and finally nodded. “It feels like I said that in another lifetime,” he said.

  A tall dark-haired woman standing at the foot of Jake’s bed said to Anna, “I used pretty much those same words on a fiercely argumentative young lawyer I was attempting to treat.” Her white coat with blue stitching identified her as Jane Locklear, M.D., and she introduced herself as the attending physician.

  “Good lawyers are invariably stubborn,” said Deke. He offered his hand to Dr. Locklear. “Nick Deketomis.”

  As she shook it, she asked, “Are you bragging or confessing?” “A little bit of both,” said Deke.

  “Dr. Locklear’s logic wore me down,” Jake said. “Of course, it didn’t help that I was having seizures at the time.”

  In a smaller voice, he added, “The Naltrexone stopped those.”

  “As I told Jake,” Dr. Locklear said, “that course of treatment could well have made the difference between life and death. It’s clear his captors kept him on a high dose of opioids.”

  “Bastards,” said Bennie. His growl was as fierce as his scowl.

  Another figure walked into the already crowded suite. “Paul!” said Jake.

  “Did you leave any room for us in there?” asked a woman’s voice.

  From behind Paul, Alison Stanley waved to Jake. Next to her was Ron Beyer, the other paralegal, who gave Jake a thumbs-up.

  “There’s not even room enough for Bennie,” said Paul, “but that’s not going to stop me from getting a hug.”

  He swooped down on Jake and threw his arms around him. Directly behind him a line formed, everyone wanting to give Jake a squeeze.

  “Hurry it up,” joked Deke. “I want to get my turn. And then I want to hear Jake’s story.”

  “I’ll vacate the area so as to give everyone a little more room,” said Dr. Locklear. “But I’m afraid this reunion must be short-lived. In ten minutes I’ll be clearing everyone out of here. Jake needs his rest.”

  33

  MORE DEALING THAN HEALING

  ALONG THE OXY-EXPRESS

  Three weeks after his escape, Jake wondered if a part of him would always be imprisoned. That’s how it was with addiction . . . and recovery. He didn’t yet feel free of the drugs. Anna understood. To a large degree, she was in the same position.

  Still, Anna was doing her best to be supportive. They’d spent the morning together, and she’d made breakfast. Jake had feigned enthusiasm upon seeing the biscuits, eggs, bacon, and fresh juice, but she could tell his happiness was tempered.

  “Are you excited about the ARCOS hearing tomorrow?” she asked.

  Jake had to think about his answer. It bothered him that his responses now seemed more plodding than before. His days of quick replies and reactions seemed to have deserted him.

  “Yes and no,” he said.

  Anna looked disappointed by his answer, and Jake had half a mind to say, “I’m an addict who’s taking a drug to deal with my addiction. What do you expect from me?”

  “It’s your case,” she said. “If not for you, it would never have happened. And whatever’s decided by tomorrow’s proceeding might be monumental.”

  253 “It was my case,” Jake said. “Now I’m window dressing. While I was imprisoned, a lot of decisions were made about the direction of this hearing, and what comes next. I was left out of that whole process.”

  “You’re still one of three plaintiff lawyers,” said Anna, “working on a case you initiated that now possibly has nationwide consequences. You need to quit feeling sorry for yourself, Jake.”

  “What I need is for people not to tell me what I should be feeling,” he said.

  The hurt look on Anna’s face made Jake wish he could take back his words. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’re trying to help. And I know you want the best for me. The truth of the matter is that I’m no longer capable of contributing to this ARCOS hearing. Whether it’s the Naltrexone I’m taking or what the opioids did to me, my thoughts these days are cumbersome. In the past I could always count on my memory not failing me, but now my own mind feels like a stranger to me.”

  “I’ve been there,” said Anna. “I am there. But trust me, things do get better with time.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he said, “but things won’t get better by tomorrow.”

  “This is still your case whether you participate in the hearing or not,” she said. “And Paul and Deke know that. They also know what you’ve sacrificed. You deserve to feel like you belong, because you do belong. And besides, didn’t you always say that you were only doing this for one reason?”

  Jake nodded. That reason had been his one constant. “I took it up to try and get justice for Blake.”

  “So how has that changed?”

  “It hasn’t,” he said.

  “Remember that when you’re in the courtroom tomorrow,” Anna said. “I wish I could be there to see you.”

  “I wish you could, too,” Jake said. “You can blame the defendants for the closed courtroom. They told Judge Sargent that they’ll be presenting sensitive information that needs to be kept private. We suspect it’s another ploy to buy time, but the judge decided to honor their wishes.”

  “I’m surprised that you’re not already on your way to Columbus,” she said.

  “I didn’t want to leave without having a morning together with you. Deke offered me a spot on his firm’s private jet, but I said I would rather drive.”

  “You’re kidding. You turned down a chance to fly in a private jet?”

  “I like driving,” Jake said, grinning.

  “No one likes driving more than flying on a private jet.”

  He shrugged. “The truth of the matter is that I’ve never flown before, and I didn’t want to admit that to Deke.”

  “Poor-kid pride?” she asked.

  “Something like that,” he said. “And I was also worried about my stomach acting up. It hasn’t been right since my captivity, and I didn’t want to ruin the flight for others by getting sick in midair.”

  “Promise me that next time you’re offered a ride in a private plane, you’ll agree to go,” she said.

  “Why is it so important to you?”

  “Because you need to be willing to take a chance and do what you want, instead of always worrying about the consequences.”

  “I promise,” he said.

  And as if to show that he meant what he said, and that he wasn’t going to avoid taking chances in the future, Jake leaned over and gave Anna a kiss.

  vvv It took Jake only two and a half hours to reach Ohio’s capital. Using the GPS on his cell phone, he was able to navigate through the downtown-Columbus business district. Deke’s firm had booked Jake a room at the Leveque Tower, a storied downtown hotel. Even though he was wearing his best
suit, when he checked in he felt like an impostor, an intruder in a world where he didn’t belong. What am I doing here? he thought. And that was even before he opened the door to his room.

  The suite was about as big as the Rutledge family home in Oakley. When Jake looked in at the cavernous space, his first thought was that he had been given the key to the wrong room. As a precaution, he wiped his shoes on the hallway carpeting before stepping inside. After taking half a dozen uncertain steps forward, he saw that a gift basket had been set up on a table with plates and a champagne flute.

  I’m definitely in the wrong room, he thought, but that’s when he saw that the basket had a card with his name on it. The message inside was short: Enjoy! Next to it was Deke’s name.

  Jake walked over to the sheer curtains and pulled them open. From seven stories up, he looked out over downtown Columbus and the Scioto River. The sun was in the process of setting and was casting a golden glow on the water.

  Using his cell phone camera, Jake took a few pictures. The results didn’t do justice to what he was seeing, but he forwarded the best shot to Anna, along with his love.

  vvv That night Jake begged off meeting the others for dinner, claiming he didn’t feel 100 percent. Deke didn’t push him very hard; since Jake’s return everyone had understood that he was still recovering from his ordeal.

  Though Jake knew his bill was being charged to Deke’s firm, after seeing the prices on the room-service menu, he felt too guilty to put in an order. He decided to get a little exercise while seeing what food choices were available near the hotel instead. Besides, it would be his chance to explore a little bit of Columbus. Three blocks from the hotel, he found an open sub shop. The turkey sub was just his speed—he was a West Virginia boy, and more comfortable in the absence of pretense.

  Still, it wasn’t like he pined for sackcloth and ashes. Later that night he couldn’t help but enjoy his splendidly appointed room. In particular, he loved the mattress. It was firm yet gentle. Goldilocks would certainly have approved. Within ten minutes of settling into bed, Jake fell into a deep sleep.

  The next morning Jake made a breakfast out of the cheese and fruit in his gift basket, and then grabbed a coffee on the way to the Joseph P. Kinneary U.S. Courthouse. It was only a half-mile walk from the Leveque, and when he arrived, there was still an hour before the hearing was due to start. He had nervous energy needing to be burned off, so he decided to play tourist. He walked around the five-story building, taking in its neoclassical design, including a massive colonnade and elaborate iron grill encasements.

  The interior of the building was no less ornate. At another time he would have enjoyed touring the building, but with all the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he decided it was best to find the courtroom where the ARCOS hearing was scheduled to take place. Even though he would be playing third fiddle for the hearing, it was nice to feel so energized. I actually feel alive, he thought. Since his captivity, he hadn’t felt that way often.

  The courtroom was empty save for security. Before being allowed admittance, Jake had to provide identification. After his name was checked off, he made his way inside. In the quietude, it almost felt like being in a shrine. There would be no spectators today, and no one sitting in the jury box. Jake’s eyes scanned where the bailiff and court reporter would be sitting. He studied the witness box and the judge’s bench.

  Footsteps and familiar voices made him turn. The two paralegals, Ron and Alison, were waving at him. “Jake the snake,” said Ron.

  Even though the paralegals would only be indirectly involved in the hearing, they seemed to be as nervous as Jake. Everyone shook hands. Jake was glad his wasn’t the only sweaty palm.

  Carol and Bennie made their entrance next. The two of them were working up until the last minute, with Bennie consulting an index card and posing questions to Carol. Though they were too far away for Jake to hear what either was saying, he could guess what Bennie was asking. Paul was going to put Carol on the stand and question her about the massive diversion of opioids from legitimate hospitals and pharmacies to pill mills, focusing on the area along Interstate 75 known as the Oxy-Express.

  Carol’s testimony would be used as a springboard to help the judge understand how relevant the DEA’s ARCOS system was to their case, as well as to the entire opioid epidemic. By using the data from ARCOS, Paul would contend that they could show how and where the controlled substances had been diverted while at the same time illustrating the criminal conduct by the opioid distributors. He was confident the figures would show that the distributors in conjunction with the manufacturers had been running a sophisticated government-sanctioned drug cartel on American soil.

  “Getting that data,” Deke had said to Paul and Jake, “will virtually assure us the chance to centralize a national case in an MDL.”

  The quiet courtroom suddenly became noisy as Nathan Ailes and his army of lawyers and staff began filing into the courtroom. Jake couldn’t help but be reminded of briefcase drill teams he’d seen marching at the Doo Dah Parade in Pasadena, California, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade in New York City. Dressed in identical suits, sporting the same conservative briefcases, they operated much like an army drill team, but they wielded briefcases instead of rifles.

  “All Ailes is missing is cadence calls for his team,” Jake murmured.

  The eyes of the two men met, but neither acknowledged the other. Jake remembered how Ailes had tried to intimidate him at the first motion to dismiss. Since then he hadn’t allowed Ailes to have that kind of power over him. In the back of his mind, though, he wondered if it was Ailes who had arranged for his abduction. Law enforcement, as well as Carol and Bennie, were continuing to look into that, but as of yet, there were more questions than answers.

  Deke and Paul entered the courtroom together and made their way over to the plaintiff’s side. They greeted Jake with a hug and a pat on the back. Both men, he was happy to see, were pumped, and by appearances more than ready to go. Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long.

  Judge Edward “Sarge” Sargent entered his courtroom, and everyone rose. He gave a smile and a nod to those assembled, and then he took a seat. The bailiff instructed everyone to sit. Jake sat at the table with Paul and Deke, but he’d chosen the seat farthest from the aisle so as to not impede their movements. As he surveyed the courtroom, he felt his heart pounding. It had been a long journey getting here and being given this opportunity. Even if this case was about the money to most of those in the courtroom, to him it was about the people who’d been affected. They were the ones who mattered.

  Though the judge had set strict ground rules for the hearing, he had an easy manner that extended to the way he spoke. He was one of those understated and confident individuals who knew exactly what he was doing. Judge Sargent explained how the proceeding would work, and then asked if there were any questions. Deke had agreed to allow Ailes to begin with his witnesses, as he saw an advantage in being able to be the first to cross-examine.

  Jake was an insider to what was going on, but at the same time he felt like an outsider. Still, because his involvement was limited, he was able to watch the proceedings more closely than he might otherwise have been able to. Perhaps because Ailes knew the clock was running, he curtailed most of his grandstanding and poetics when he called Dan Abernathy to the stand. The only thing he didn’t forsake were his dramatic hand gestures. Still, as the examination began, Jake had to begrudgingly admit that Ailes was on his game.

  As security director at MHC, Abernathy was able to speak knowledgeably about how the ARCOS drug reporting system worked. Abernathy came off as credible; he didn’t speak like a bureaucrat, but more like the street cop he’d once been. Burly, and with a ruddy face with a five o’clock shadow, he also looked more like a cop than a DC insider. As Ailes’s questioning continued, it became apparent that Abernathy was the perfect shill, offering up reasons real and imagined why the ARCOS data should not be released.

  “The less the public knows
about the location of the DEA drug distribution warehouses,” said Abernathy, “the better it is for everyone concerned. Can you imagine the risks associated with these warehouses if they were targeted by some of the more sophisticated gangs? Or worse, if organized crime were to try and compromise their security? We work diligently to keep all the details about our warehouses as secret as possible.”

  Jake wasn’t surprised to hear Abernathy’s plea for what he called “the continued anonymity of the warehouses.” He knew that Deke and Paul had been certain that card would be played, and they planned to respond to it.

  “Thank you, Mr. Abernathy,” said Ailes. “You are certainly not alone in that opinion. In fact, I talked to Andrew Jeffords, the head of the DEA, and he said much the same thing. I asked Mr. Jeffords to write an affidavit to this court, which I have included in my pleadings. Mr. Jeffords also said that if the ARCOS data was released, he hoped that it would be put under seal and not released to the public for at least six months.”

  “I will review the affidavit carefully,” said Judge Sargent. “Six months seems a long time.”

  “The release of all the ARCOS data would certainly create fallout within the DEA,” said Ailes, “and like any bureaucracy, they would need time to prepare.”

  “I will take that under consideration,” the judge said. “Do you have any more questions for your witness?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  Deke was already out of his seat and approaching the witness stand to cross-examine Abernathy. Ailes had done his best to throw Abernathy as many softballs as possible. Deke, Jake knew, would come in with the heat.

  Jake was not disappointed.

  “Mr. Abernathy, you claim releasing the ARCOS data is—and let me use your words—a ‘huge danger’ because it would reveal the locations of the twenty-eight DEA drug distribution warehouses in this country. Is that true?”