[Lady Justice 16] - Lady Justice and the Organ Traders

by Robert Thornhill

  I could see Maggie searching the dusty corners of her mind. “Bugsy, yes! You called him that because his eyes kind of bulged out.”

  “Yeah, that’s him. I didn’t know it at the time, but Bugsy was on Nick Civella’s payroll.”

  If Kevin didn’t have my attention before, he certainly did then. For close to thirty years, from the early 50’s to the early eighties, Civella was the godfather of the Kansas City mafia, a powerful and dangerous man.

  “One day, Bugsy picked me up for a ‘ride-along.’ I didn’t have anything better to do and I was glad to get out of the house. What he was actually doing was going to various shopkeepers on Independence Avenue making collections for Civella’s protection racket. Most were deathly afraid of Civella and willingly paid, but one owner had had enough. He pulled a gun on Bugsy, there was a struggle, the gun went off and the owner wound up dead. As luck would have it, a cop driving by heard the shot and the next thing I knew, Bugsy and I were in cuffs.”

  “But you were innocent!” Maggie protested.

  “Didn’t matter to the cops. They saw an opportunity to take a bite out of Civella’s empire and they jumped on it. Since I wasn’t actually involved in the shooting, they offered me immunity if I would testify against Bugsy. They were hoping that Bugsy would roll over on Civella. They offered him immunity too. They were after the big fish. Once we testified, there was no doubt that Civella would send some of his goons to take us out. He had to make an example of what happens to stool pigeons. We had no choice but to disappear.”

  “Mom told me that you ran away.”

  “You were just a kid. That story was a lot easier for you to swallow than the truth.”

  “So did your testimony help convict Civella?”

  “Nope! Civella was a sharp guy with lots of friends in high places. They were able to send one of his lieutenants, Sammy ‘Scarface’ Sorveno, to the pen, but that’s as far as it went.”

  “Where have you been all these years?”

  “Phoenix. During my ordeal, I became interested in the law. I actually took a few college courses on the government’s dime. I thought maybe I wanted to be a cop but with my record they weren’t interested, so I opened my own shop. I’ve been a P.I., a gumshoe, all these years --- until I retired. Fred Fenton, that’s the name the marshals gave me, Private Eye. I’ve done everything from taking photos of cheating husbands to tracking down runaway children.”

  “How did you find me?” Maggie asked.

  “Gumshoe, remember? I track down people for a living. I couldn’t contact you, but I’ve been following you for years. I see your ads on Realtor.com. I even checked out Walt here when I heard you two were getting hitched. Seems like a great guy. Congratulations to you both.”

  Something about Kevin’s story seemed a bit off. “I’m confused. You’ve been in witness protection all these years to avoid reprisals from the Civella crime family. I’m sure you know that the old gang is still around. They’re certainly not as powerful now, but you know as well as I do that the Mafia has a long memory. Aren’t you taking a big risk by blowing your cover?”

  Kevin smiled. “I figured that the cop would pick up on that. Actually, I don’t have a whole lot to lose anymore. I’m dying.”

  Poor Maggie. I had been watching her facial expressions. She had gone from shock at seeing a brother after fifty years, to joy, knowing that he was alive, and back to shock, hearing that his days were numbered.

  “Dying? Of what?”

  “Renal failure. My old kidneys are crapping out. It’s been coming on for about a year. I’m Stage 3 and soon I’ll be Stage 4 and have to start taking dialysis. I’m on the kidney transplant list, but guys in their seventies go straight to the bottom.”

  “Oh, Kevin! I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do?”

  “Actually,” Kevin said, dropping his head, “that’s why I’m here.”

  The minute he uttered that statement, I knew what was coming.

  “For old guys like me --- well --- there’s only one chance to survive --- if someone donates a kidney. Most folks would rather donate to a younger person and I understand that, but I thought ---.”

  “Kevin, are you asking me for one of my kidneys?”

  “Since you’re my sister, there’s a real good chance that we would be compatible.”

  Maggie didn’t know what to say.

  Kevin was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. That’s asking so much. I’ll just go now.”

  He started to get up, but Maggie stopped him. I could see that she was conflicted.

  “This is such a shock --- just seeing you after all these years, and now this. It’s a lot to process.”

  “I understand.”

  “Leave me a number where I can reach you. I need some time to think about this. It’s not just me. Walt has to be a part of this decision. Let us discuss it and we’ll be back with you in a few days.”

  I was biting my tongue. I already knew what my answer would be and I wanted to throw him out of our apartment for putting that pressure on Maggie, but I kept my cool.

  Kevin gave Maggie his number, they embraced and he was out of the door.

  After the door closed, we just stood there looking at one another.

  I spoke first. “Surely you’re not thinking about doing this!”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”

  “Maggie! Some guy you haven’t seen for fifty years shows up at your door and asks for your kidney? It’s unbelievable!”

  Maggie’s eyes flashed. “That ‘some guy’ is my brother!”

  “So?”

  “So if I don’t give him a kidney, he’s going to die.”

  “If a total stranger off the street knocked on the door and asked for a kidney, what would you say?”

  “That’s not really the point, is it?”

  “I think it is. The guy’s a total stranger and he’s asking you to risk your life. It’s not fair! I know these operations are supposed to be safe for the donor, but Maggie, you’re almost seventy! Anytime a person, especially our age, goes under the knife, there is a real risk. How can you even think about jeopardizing the time we have left together?”

  I knew those words were a mistake the minute they left my mouth.

  “Oh, really! You’re a fine one to talk. I ask myself that same question every time you walk out that door for another one of your harebrained undercover operations. The captain talks you into doing all these dangerous things and I never know if you’re going to come back to me, so don’t give me any crap about jeopardizing our time together!”

  I knew she was right. I hated it, but I knew she was right.

  I was ready to throw in the towel. “It’s your kidney, so it’s your choice to make. You know how I feel about it.”

  “No, it’s not just my choice. It’s OUR choice. You’re my husband. Let’s put the shoe on the other foot.”

  I hate it when she does that.

  “What if your dad or Mary came to you for one of your kidneys? What if I needed a kidney to survive? What then?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Different? How?”

  “It’s different because ----. Oh crap! It’s just different.”

  “Why? Because they’re all like family and we love them? Well, Kevin is my family and that has to count for something.”

  “Even if he’s been out of your life for over fifty years?”

  Maggie’s eyes flashed again. “I seem to remember about four years ago, you got a call from a father that bailed on you when you were a kid. You hadn’t seen him for almost that long. You were ready to write him off, but I talked you into taking him in. How did that turn out?”

  Damn it! She was right again. My dad had called out of the blue, announcing that he was being tossed from his nursing home for being a horny old goat. I was about to wish him ‘good luck,’ but Maggie insisted that I take him in. In the four years since then, Dad and I have become very close and I have found the fa
ther that I never had as a child. **

  “It’s one thing to give someone an apartment, but it’s quite another to give a piece of your body!”

  Maggie gave me that look that women give to the men in their lives when they’re doing something stupid. “I can see that this conversation isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  “You got that right. I need some time to think. I’ll be back later.”

  I got my coat and stormed out the door.

  Maggie and I had just had our first real fight.

  ***************************************

  ** Lady Justice Gets Lei’d

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  CHAPTER 8

  I was hurt, angry and confused as I jammed my key in the ignition. I was mad at Kevin McBride for bringing this pile of poo into my previously happy family, mad at Maggie for even considering having such a serious operation at her age, and mad at myself for being so selfish that I hurt the one person in the world that I loved the most.

  Being new to domestic tribulation, I figured that it might be a good idea to talk to someone with more expertise in this sort of thing before the situation got out of hand.

  The person that came to mind was Pastor Bob.

  I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a regular church-goer. For some reason, the trappings of organized religion just turn me off, but I’m far from being an atheist. It’s always been hard for me to swallow the idea that all the wondrous things in nature came to be by pure happenstance and even more compelling is what I’ve experienced during my five years on the force.

  I have come close to meeting the Grim Reaper so many times, yet on each occasion, something happened that miraculously pulled my fat out of the fire. It’s like flipping a coin a hundred times and having it come up heads every time, or cutting a deck of cards and pulling an ace each time. Statistically, I suppose it’s possible, but I have to believe there is something or someone out there a whole lot bigger than me that is pulling some strings.

  That’s why, whenever I find myself facing a moral dilemma, I turn to Pastor Bob. He’s not like any other cleric I’ve ever met.

  He was the pastor of a large Protestant congregation. He rebelled when pressure was put upon him to promote the church’s political agenda from the pulpit. He refused and was asked to leave. He left all right, along with a huge chunk of the congregation. I was a realtor for thirty years, and I was on duty at the real estate office the day he walked in the door looking for a building to house his flock. I helped him find an abandoned church on Linwood just a few blocks from the Three Trails. We’ve been friends ever since. **

  In an early conversation, I admitted that my church attendance was somewhat spotty --- actually, non-existent. He responded by saying that sitting in church didn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage made you a car, and that a man’s life was judged by his deeds. He had me from that moment on.

  The message on the sign board in front of his church is John Wesley’s famous quote, “Sour godliness is the devil’s religion.” Plus, you have to admire a guy that calls his church bowling team the ‘Holy Rollers!’

  ************************************

  ** Lady Justice and the Lost Tapes

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  I dialed Pastor Bob’s number.

  “Heavenly Hotline. Your call is very important to us. God is currently on the line with another lost soul. Please leave your name and number and He will get back to you as soon as possible.”

  “Caller ID?”

  “Of course, Walt. You don’t think I give that little gem to just anyone, do you?”

  “I certainly hope not. Sorry about calling so late.”

  “Not a problem. As a shepherd, I’ve discovered that crises in the lives of my flock don’t always come between nine and five --- actually very rarely. What can I do for you?”

  “If it’s okay, I’d like to come by for a visit.”

  “You know the way. I’ll be in my office.”

  “So what brings Walt Williams out on a cold night like this?” Bob asked, offering me a seat.

  “Maggie and I just had our first fight.”

  “How long have you two been married?”

  “Four years.”

  “Then congratulations!”

  “For what?”

  “Walt, some couples don’t make it through their honeymoon without a knock-down, drag-out.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Just trying to put things in perspective. So what precipitated this crisis in the Williams’ household?”

  I told him about the appearance of Maggie’s brother out of the blue, his brazen request and our subsequent disagreement.

  “Wow! That is quite a load for one evening. I can see why you’re conflicted, but you’re going to have to put yourself in Maggie’s shoes. Someone has put their life in Maggie’s hands. That person will live or die based on her decision, and as if that wasn’t hard enough, that person turns out to be her long-lost brother. She’s definitely between a rock and a hard place.”

  “I get all that. One of the things that bothers me is why Kevin should have to be in that position in the first place.”

  I told Pastor Bob about our recent cases involving the botched kidney transplant of poor Leroy Grubbs and the body snatching of Roscoe Hawkins.

  “The agent from the FBI told us about the huge demand for body parts and the fact that many people would be willing to fulfill that need for a price, but it’s against the law. All that does is keep the bootleggers in business. It’s going on now and will undoubtedly continue, so why not make it legal? That way it could be safe and controlled and people wouldn’t be dying every day for lack of donor organs.”

  “Walt, you should be in the bait business.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you love opening big cans of worms. Your statement seems so simple, but, as usual, there is another side to the coin. There are several reasons why only one country in the world allows the sale of organs. The first involves economic discrimination. Statistics have shown that in countries where authorities have looked the other way, over 70% of the donors lived in poverty and sold their organs just to survive. If it were legal in Kansas City, two-thirds of the inner-city population would have scars on their sides within a very short period of time. Why do you think Leroy Grubbs sold his kidney?”

  “But it’s their bodies! Isn’t that their choice to make? If my family was homeless and hungry and I could change all that by giving up an organ that apparently I don’t need, why wouldn’t I?”

  “That brings us to the second reason. The notion of selling off body parts runs contrary to virtually every religious doctrine. Almost without exception, followers believe that they are created in their God’s image and that we are but caretakers of our mortal vessels. The parts are not ours to sell.”

  “If everyone’s so concerned about taking care of their bodies, why do we abuse them with drugs, alcohol, tobacco and junk food?”

  “Good Lord, Walt. If you want to get into all that, I’m going to have to charge you overtime.”

  “I’ve got nowhere to be. Let’s talk tobacco. Pretty much everyone worldwide has been smoking for hundreds of years and we know what it does to our bodies. How can we pollute our lungs on one hand and say we can’t part with a kidney on the other?”

  “Let’s back up just a bit. We have to talk about two issues, free will and human nature. My personal belief is that we have been created with the ability to make choices and each of those choices have consequences, either good or bad. If you read most any scripture, it will say that we will be judged by the choices we make. I personally believe that most judgment actually comes in this life rather than being deferred to some post mortem trial.

  “The second issue is the fact that resistance to change seems to be a part of human nature. Are you okay with those two concepts?”

  I nodded.

  “Great! Now we c
an talk about your tobacco issue. As you said, smoking was an integral and accepted practice in our culture for hundreds of years. You only have to go back to the 1950’s and see reruns of I Love Lucy, one of our country’s most beloved, family friendly shows. In virtually every episode, Ricky Ricardo is puffing on a cigarette. It wasn’t until 1964 that the surgeon general issued the warning about the dangers of smoking. It’s bad for your lungs, plain and simple. Do I believe that all those millions of people that abused their bodies for all those years are burning in hell? No! But I do believe that they suffered the consequences of their choice in this life by going to an early grave with lung cancer. Now that we have the knowledge to make an informed choice about tobacco, we can exercise our free will. It’s been fifty years since folks began to realize that Joe Camel wasn’t really a cool guy and yet, some people are still choosing to smoke. Change comes slowly.”

  “Here’s the part that I don’t get. There’s no doubt that smoking is bad for you, even the government says so, and yet it’s still legal. Agent Blackburn talked about the prohibition years when alcohol was illegal. That didn’t last long because people wanted their booze and they were going to get it from bootleggers one way or another. How is this so different from the organ trade? People want kidneys and others are willing to sell them. It’s going to happen whether it’s legal or not. Why not recognize it and regulate it?”

  “Again, we’re talking about two separate issues, one is economic and the other moral. Imagine the economic impact if alcohol and tobacco were suddenly taken away. Lobbyists from those two industries spend millions to make sure that never happens. On the other hand, what big corporation stands to make bazillions of dollars if poor people are allowed to sell their body parts? None! It’s all political.

  “The other factor is, again, resistance to change. Let’s take a look at some other controversial issues that have been in the news. You came to me a few years ago when a new Dr. Death was practicing in Kansas City. Opponents of euthanasia use many of the same arguments as with the organ trade, yet the practice is now legal in four states.