Wrongful Death: The AIDS Trial

by Stephen Davis

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Your Honor, I’d like to re-call Don Harrison to the stand.”

  Sarah is still getting notes passed to her from all over the courtroom after more than two dozen people stopped her on the way in, congratulating her on the interview in the Tribune the night before. “Took a lot of courage,” “meant a lot to a lot of people,” “proud of you,” “thanks for saying what I couldn’t.”

  She wishes for a moment that she could get that kind of praise for something she wrote, rather than something she said. But she was also glad to know that she hadn’t been wrong – there were a lot of people out there suffering from the guilt of their role in the death of a loved one from AZT, and her own story might make a difference and help ease their pain.

  Of course, unlike USA Today or the Wall Street Journal, the Tribune only covered Arizona; so it was mostly the locals and the reporters from around the world, now in Phoenix to cover the trial, who had read the interview. But Sarah had gotten a call this morning from Dr. Keating at GNN and she was going to appear on TV tonight as well. Now that was something the whole world would see. And maybe I’ll write a book when this is all over.

  Sarah puts the congratulatory notes down and picks up her own yellow pad as Harrison makes it to the witness stand and Baker starts his questions. She had forgotten Harrison had already been sworn in a couple of weeks ago.

  “Mr. Harrison, I wanted to bring you back to the stand to tie up some loose ends, statistically, about AIDS and HIV, based on your expertise as mathematician and statistician with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.”

  Baker, of course, had not questioned Don Harrison the first time; that had been Messick. But it didn’t really matter.

  “So, Mr. Harrison, let’s start with the number of HIV-positives in the United States. When did we first start counting the number of people who have HIV?”

  “That would have been in….”

  Baker interrupts immediately. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harrison, but that was a trick question, and I asked it that way purposely. All the testimony in this trial has proven that we have no idea how many people in the country have HIV, because we don’t test for HIV. We test for the antibodies to HIV instead, which means they no longer have the active HIV itself. So your answer should have been, ‘Mr. Baker, I can’t answer that question because we don’t test for HIV.’ From now on, please listen carefully to my questions and answer them just as carefully. It’s important that anything you say is as precise and accurate as possible.”

  Baker gives Harrison time to think about that. Harrison can’t say anything in rebuttal, of course, so he just sits there.

  “Okay, Mr. Harrison. I’ll rephrase the question, and this time it’s not a trick. When did we first start counting the number of people in the United States who have the antibodies to HIV?”

  Harrison waits for a minute to make sure he’s absolutely correct before he says, “1984.”

  “And how many people in 1984 had the antibodies to HIV – what we have been calling ‘HIV-positives’?”

  “A million.”

  “Exactly one million?”

  “Yes…” and then Harrison thinks twice. “Well, no.”

  “Which is it, Mr. Harrison?”

  “Well, obviously, Mr. Baker, we didn’t test everyone in this country and find exactly one million of them had HIV.” Harrison sees Baker glaring at him. “Sorry…the HIV antibodies.”

  “So how did you come up with the figure of one million?”

  “By extrapolation. Based on the percentage of HIV-positives we found in a representative sample, we took that percentage and applied it to the rest of the population, and then rounded it off.”

  “Okay, Mr. Harrison, I won’t argue about that. Let’s agree that there were one million people in the U.S. who had the antibodies to HIV in 1984. Now, how many did the CDC say had it in 1997, thirteen years later?”

  Harrison flips through a bundle of papers he brought with him. “700,000.”

  “But I thought that in 1984 the CDC said that HIV was a highly contagious epidemic spreading rapidly across the country and into the heterosexual population as well? How could the number of HIV-positives go down in that time?”

  Harrison looks rightfully perplexed. “I can’t answer that question, Mr. Baker. I just report the numbers.”

  “I doubt anybody could, Mr. Harrison, because HIV appears to violate Farr’s Law, doesn’t it? Do you know what Farr’s Law is, Mr. Harrison?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Well then, why don’t you tell the court?”

  “Farr’s Law basically says that contagious diseases spread exponentially. In other words, the number of cases of a new epidemic will start small, then explode into the population as rapidly as the germ can spread from one person to another, and then taper off again as immunity to the germ can develop in the human immune system or some kind of prevention – like a vaccine – is discovered.”

  “And in your opinion, does HIV meet those criteria?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “It does? How so?” Baker looks incredulous, but of course it was the answer he expected from Harrison.

  “Well, the number of AIDS cases started off very small in the early 1980’s, built up to a peak in the early ‘90’s, and has been tapering off ever since – at least in the U.S.”

  “That’s true, Mr. Harrison, and we’ll get back to that in a minute. But that wasn’t the question I asked. I asked you about HIV, not AIDS.”

  Harrison looks totally confused now. Baker, on the other hand, is actually grateful to take this time to make sure the jury understands the difference between HIV and AIDS, since the media for the last twenty-five years has been equating the two in everyone’s mind.

  “Mr. Harrison, according to the CDC, AIDS is a syndrome of different diseases caused by a virus called HIV. By definition, it is the cause that is contagious, not the disease – in this case, the so-called Human Immunodeficiency Virus. And in order to be called ‘contagious’ according to Farr’s Law, the number of people infected with HIV has to grow exponentially. That’s what Farr’s Law says. But you already said that the number of HIV-positives went down from 1984 to 1997. So let me ask you the question again: does the virus called HIV conform to Farr’s Law?”

  Harrison feels like a kid caught red-handed with a cookie – the first instinct is not to say anything at all. Baker, however, isn’t going to let Harrison off the hook.

  “Mr. Harrison, if HIV is contagious, shouldn’t the number of people who have it go up dramatically, especially during the first few years, as Farr’s Law requires?”

  When Harrison still doesn’t answer, Baker continues, “So I will ask you again, Mr. Harrison, based on the statistics, does HIV meet the criteria of Farr’s Law and earn the label of contagious?”

  Harrison didn’t know what to do. For thirty years the CDC had been telling everyone how contagious HIV is. How could he say anything else and keep his job? Maybe Mr. Baker will let me slide and move on, just this once. No such luck.

  “Mr. Harrison, are you going to answer my question and tell the court how the CDC could call HIV contagious when, by its own statistics, the number of HIV-positives went down in the first 13 years?”

  Harrison just sits there, praying for this to be over soon.

  “I wouldn’t say anything if I were you either, Mr. Harrison. So let’s move on.”

  Harrison says a private “Thank you, God” while Baker consults his notes at the lectern.

  “You said, Mr. Harrison, that the number of HIV-positives went from one million in 1984 to 700,000 in 1997. What was the number of HIV-positives in 2005?”

  Harrison fretfully paws through his papers. “One point three million.”

  “Over one million in 2005, Mr. Harrison?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me see if I have this straight. We start off with one million HIV-positives in 1984, we give 300,000 of them AZT to treat their AIDS
, they all die, and we’re left with 700,000 HIV-positives in 1997. We then stop giving AZT and get it out of this country and between 1997 and today we’re back to the one million people with the HIV antibodies, and more. Sounds to me that statistically, AIDS is more closely related to AZT than HIV, wouldn’t you say?”

  Harrison doesn’t want to say anything, ever again. But of course he will have to, because Baker is far from finished.

  “Now let me ask you about ‘clusters,’ Mr. Harrison.”

  Harrison certainly isn’t going to volunteer any information, that’s for sure. “What do you want to know, Mr. Baker?”

  “Why don’t you tell the court what a ‘cluster’ is.”

  “A cluster is a geographical area where a large number of incidents of a contagious disease occur statistically.”

  “In other words, Mr. Harrison, if a disease is in fact contagious, then the people who live around the area where that germ is will get sick more than those who don’t live in that area, and we’ll see a cluster of the disease, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “This makes logical sense, doesn’t it, that if we have a contagious germ going around in some area, that the number of cases of the disease that germ creates will be much greater than in other areas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me, Mr. Harrison, do we have clusters with the disease called AIDS?”

  Harrison is relieved, temporarily. “Definitely.”

  “Where are those clusters?”

  “New York City, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Miami – the larger cities, for example.”

  “And what about clusters of HIV?”

  Harrison’s relief didn’t last long. He’s back in the fog, certain that he’s headed for more trouble that he can’t see coming. “I’m not sure how to answer that question. There are obviously more HIV-positives in those cities as well.”

  “But that’s only because there are more people in those cities, and the number of HIV-positives is based on a percentage of the population, correct?”

  “Yes, correct.”

  “So perhaps I should ask my question this way: If a cluster pattern is the normal result of a contagious disease, and is, in fact, required for a disease to be called ‘contagious,’ and if HIV causes AIDS, and if AIDS was clustered in these bigger cities, wouldn’t you have to find that HIV was also clustered in these cities? I mean, wouldn’t the percentage of people who live in these cities who were HIV-positive have to be greater than those living elsewhere in the country, as this so-called ‘contagious’ disease spreads from person to person in the cluster?”

  Harrison signs heavily. “I suppose so.”

  “But the percentage of HIV-positives in the areas of the greatest number of AIDS cases isn’t any different from anywhere else, is it?”

  “No.”

  “And therefore, there are no clusters of HIV-positives, are there – no place where the percentage of the population with HIV was greater than anywhere else?”

  “No.”

  “So wouldn’t it be logical that if we have a cluster of AIDS cases in the cities that you mentioned, but not a cluster of HIV-positives in those same cities, that there really can’t be any relationship between AIDS and HIV, and that HIV itself cannot be contagious?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “You suppose so? But isn’t that your job, Mr. Harrison, to collect these statistics and analyze them and tell us what they mean?”

  Harrison is certain he was going to be fired now. Oh, well, what the hell. “Yes, it is.”

  Well, at least you’re being honest, even though it might mean the end of your career with the CDC. But Baker can’t let his newfound respect for Harrison interfere with his questions.

  “Mr. Harrison, explain this to me. The virus called HIV, even if it’s not contagious, is supposed to cause AIDS in every human being it infects. At least that’s what the CDC has us believing, and why AZT was given to HIV-positives even if they weren’t sick at the time. So, in the years from 1997 to 2005, what happened to the number of AIDS cases nationwide?”

  “It went down significantly.”

  “But you just said the number of HIV-positives went up during that same time, from 700,000 to 1.3 million.”

  Harrison just sits there.

  “Mr. Harrison, the number of AIDS cases went down, while the number of HIV-positives went up – almost doubled – even though no known cure and no vaccine have been discovered?”

  This time Harrison looks at Crawley for help, and then the Judge, but doesn’t get any.

  “Mr. Harrison, what does the CDC say was the main reason for the number of AIDS cases to suddenly drop by more than half from 1995 to 1997, and then continue down since then?”

  Harrison is still on his toes enough not to get into a trap he can easily avoid. “I’m not part of that branch of the CDC, Mr. Baker, and I would not be so presumptuous to speak for them. You’ll have to ask that question of someone else.”

  “Well, Mr. Harrison, no matter what they may say, one thing’s for sure: we stopped giving people AZT in 1996. Isn’t it odd that as soon as we stopped prescribing AZT, the AIDS epidemic in this country was virtually over?”

  Knowing that Harrison can’t and won’t answer, Baker goes back to his notes. So far, so good.

  “Okay, Mr. Harrison, let’s talk about the word ‘infectious.’ Does the CDC claim the virus called HIV is ‘infectious’?”

  “As far as I know, yes, Mr. Baker, we do.”

  “Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page. Do you want to give us a definition of ‘infectious,’ Mr. Harrison, or shall I read the definition from a dictionary?”

  “Why don’t you read it, Mr. Baker.” Please.

  “All right.” He goes to his table and opens a large book to a pre-arranged page with a sticky note. “The Miriam-Webster Dictionary says it means ‘causing infection,’ which I guess is pretty typical of a dictionary.” Baker lets the courtroom snicker a bit while he flips to a different page. “So let’s look up ‘infection.’ It says, ‘the act or result of affecting injuriously.’” Baker closes the dictionary and returns to the lectern.

  “Mr. Harrison, can we agree that ‘infectious’ means that the virus, in this case HIV, is going to cause harm to the body it infects?”

  Harrison thinks a long time about the corner Baker could be painting him into, but he just doesn’t see how his answer could cause that much damage. “Yes, I’ll agree to that.”

  “So then, Mr. Harrison, when they say that HIV is ‘infectious,’ they are saying it is going to cause damage to the person who’s HIV-positive?”

  Harrison thinks for another long time. “Yes, I can agree with that as well.”

  “But you said, Mr. Harrison, that the number of HIV-positives in this country went from 700,000 in 1997 to 1.3 million in 2005, while the number of AIDS cases was cut in half in that same period.” Baker realizes he missed a question that he should have asked earlier. “Before you comment on that, Mr. Harrison, which I’m sure you’re very anxious to do, please first tell the court how many people have died from AIDS since we started counting in 1984?”

  Harrison doesn’t need to look this one up. “Just under 600,000.”

  “So if HIV is so infectious, Mr. Harrison, what about the other 700,000 HIV-positives? Why haven’t they gotten AIDS in the last twenty-five years?”

  “The CDC says that it takes time for HIV to start causing problems in some people – that there is a latency period...”

  Baker cuts him off abruptly. “No, Mr. Harrison, the CDC doesn’t say that; Dr. Gallo says that and the CDC mimics his words. And every year since 1988, they’ve had to add another year to this ‘latency’ period to explain why the rest of the HIV-positive population didn’t get AIDS that year. This year it’s up to a twenty-five year latency to try to keep some link between HIV and AIDS and yet justify why there are 700,000 perfectly healthy Americans who are HIV-positive; although I think a few years ago they got so emba
rrassed they had to say something more general, like ‘we don’t really know how long a latency period HIV might have.’ But they still guarantee that everyone is going to get AIDS and die if they have HIV, don’t they, Mr. Harrison?”

  Harrison clams up again.

  “Well, Mr. Harrison, they have to, don’t they, if they still want to call HIV ‘infectious’?”

  I almost feel sorry for Harrison, but he and the CDC had it coming. Time for the next zinger.

  “Then let’s talk about the ‘first epidemiological law of viral and microbial diseases,’ Mr. Harrison, which says that men and women must be affected equally by an infectious disease. After all, a virus cannot differentiate between male and female when it attacks, can it?”

  “No, it can’t.”

  “You’re right, it can’t, Mr. Harrison. And that’s what this first epidemiological law says. So tell me, what percentage of men and what percentage of women in the United States has AIDS?”

  There’s no point in holding back. Might as well give the man what he wants without playing games. “Ninety percent of all AIDS cases are men, Mr. Baker.”

  “Ninety percent?”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t sound like an equal distribution between men and women, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Here’s a question for you, Mr. Harrison….” Baker looks at the jury while asking it, to make sure they don’t get confused. “What is the percentage, male-female, of the incidence of HIV?”

  Harrison must have known that was coming because he was already searching his notes frantically for the answer.

  “It’s about fifty-fifty.”

  “Whoa…HIV is found equally in men and women, but AIDS is ninety percent male?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How can that be, Mr. Harrison, if HIV causes AIDS and HIV cannot discriminate between men and women?”

  “I can’t answer that, Mr. Baker.”

  Baker is ready for the kill. “All right. HIV doesn’t meet Farr’s Law of exponential growth, there is no cluster pattern for it, it doesn’t cause infection in every body it inhabits, and AIDS doesn’t conform to the first epidemiological law of viral and microbial diseases. But you still want to call them contagious and infectious, Mr. Harrison?”

  There’s no answer.

  “Contagious based on what?”

  Still no answer.

  “Infectious based on what?”

  Harrison knows it’s almost over. Just a few more minutes…

  “I assume from your silence, Mr. Harrison, that the CDC has decided to ignore Farr’s Law and the requirement for a cluster pattern and the definition of ‘infectious’ and the first epidemiological law of viral and microbial diseases in the same way that Dr. Gallo decided to ignore Koch’s Postulates and call HIV the cause of AIDS….”

  “Objection.” Crawley couldn’t get to his feet fast enough.

  “On what grounds, Mr. Crawley?” Judge Watts sits up in her chair, curious about Crawley’s answer.

  But Crawley doesn’t know. All he knows is that he objects to the whole thing, the whole trial, and is reaching the end of his rope. Unfortunately he can’t really think of a good objection to this particular question, and it’s clear the Judge will find against him anyway. Besides, the witness obviously isn’t going to answer.

  “Your Honor, I’ll withdraw my objection.”

  Crawley sits down and Judge Watts settles back again. “Proceed, Mr. Baker.”

  Baker doesn’t care either whether Harrison answers or not. He’s getting his point across to the jury, no doubt.

  “Mr. Harrison, while the CDC has been telling everyone that HIV is contagious and infectious, which it clearly is not, it’s also been saying that it can be transmitted sexually. That’s not true either, is it, Mr. Harrison?”

  Not a sound comes from the witness box.

  “So AIDS is not a sexually transmitted disease, and there’s no danger whatsoever of it spreading into the heterosexual population as we were told, is there?”

  Harrison is still silent.

  “In fact, if there was any cluster pattern to be found, it would be that AIDS is clustered in those cities with the highest homosexual population, where the highest incidence of the use of poppers occurs, isn’t that correct, Mr. Harrison?”

  Baker looks over at the jury and sees that they are interpreting Harrison’s silence exactly like he wants them to – a sign that what Baker is saying is irrefutable. Actually, this isn’t bad. As long as Baker doesn’t ask for help, the Judge seems perfectly content to let the jury decide whatever they want to from Harrison’s lack of response.

  This was almost fun. I wish I had more questions for Mr. Harrison, but it’s time to move on.