Alligator Park

by R. J. Blacks

  “Fargo, what’s up?”

  “I’d like you to meet my friend Indigo here.”

  The man turns towards me.

  “Hi, I’m Brad.”

  “I saw you on TV,” I say.

  “TV? When?”

  “Back in December. You were talking to a reporter about an alligator attack. The guy in the boat.”

  “Oh yes. I remember that one. Seems like they’re getting weirder, though. Did you hear about the kid getting killed?”

  “That’s kind of why we’re here,” I say.

  Fargo cuts in. “Tell him about your research.”

  I start to explain, but Brad interrupts.

  “Hold on. I’m done here. Let’s go get a drink.”

  He climbs out of his rubber suit, takes us to an employee dining area, and then gets three bottled waters from a refrigerator handing one to me and one to Fargo. He finds an unused table and we each take a chair. Brad faces me and I notice his interest in my Native American outfit.

  “Haven’t seen you around. Been here long?”

  I explain how I ended up coming to Florida: how I was doing research on residual pesticides, how the university cut me off, and how I’m now trying to prove single-handedly that Farm-eXia is the cause of Kevin’s death. We chat a bit more and then I find out he has a PhD in Herpetology, exactly the kind of person we need on our side. He seems quite interested in the experiments and eager to participate. I notice a sparkle in his eye as he lays out a plan:

  “We set up two pens, one with the S-form isomer and one with the safe R-form, as a control group. I have some baby alligators we can use, three in one pen, and three in the other. It won’t hurt them, but since they’ve never been exposed to the wild, the changes in behavior would be swift and obvious.”

  We spend the rest of the day setting up the concrete pens, and then, Fargo drives me to the lake where I had measured the 40% S-form isomer. We fill up two fifty-five gallon drums with lake water. On the way back, we stop by Semi-Environmental to pick up a liter of the brand new Farm-eXia Doug had been storing. We fill one of the pens with the contaminated lake water and the other with a 1.0 gram per liter solution of the new Farm-eXia dissolved in clean uncontaminated well water. Thus, one pen contains the 40% S-form isomer—the contaminated lake water—and the other only the safe R-form for the control group.

  I fill up two sterilized specimen jars with water samples from each group, just for the record. If the defendant’s legal team insists on physical proof of our conclusions, and we can’t supply any, they could have it declared speculation, and then convince the jury it has no merit.

  Brad gets the baby alligators and releases them into the pen.

  “They’ll be fed just like all the other gators just to keep things honest,” he says.

  Brad takes some yellow “caution” tape and cordons off the area to keep his staff from getting near the pens.

  “Feel free to come over as often as you want. Can’t wait to see what happens.”

  I stop back a week later and the baby alligators seem happy sunning themselves with no distinctive differences in behavior. They look so cute I ask Brad if I can hold one, but he reminds me this is a controlled experiment and we shouldn’t do anything that might affect the outcome, so I just observe them for a while. Fortunately, the pens are in a restricted area so the gators won’t be influenced by visitors to the park.

  By the second week, the alligators show no perceivable differences, but then again, I didn’t expect any.

  By the third week, there’s an almost imperceptible difference in behavior with the S-form group appearing to be slightly more active than the control group.

  By the fourth week, the behavioral differences are even more striking. The control group is content to lazily bask in the sun most of the time, but the alligators in the other group are constantly roaming around the pen, sometimes getting into fights with each other.

  By the fifth week, the differences are undeniable. The control group is as it was, inactive most of the time. But the lake water group are constantly trying to get out, crawling up the sides until the weight of their bodies cause them to fall over. And then they do it all over again, never tiring of it. Even Brad is surprised telling me he didn’t think this was possible, but that now he’s a believer.

  I call Berkeley to bring him up to date on the experiments; tell him about the aggressive behavior.

  “That’s compelling evidence,” he says.

  “Do you think they’ll settle?”

  “It would save us all a lot of trouble. Oh, by the way, I contacted the girl that was with Kevin right before his death. Her name is Sandy Harris and she lives in Jacksonville. She said she’ll testify as long as I paid all expenses and of course I agreed.”

  Berkeley and I conclude the call and I get back to work. On Friday, the last day of the experiment, Fargo joins me on the trip over to the alligator farm and I show him the results in case he has to testify as an expert witness. I document all the findings, take pictures, and then, just when I am ready to leave, Brad offers some additional suggestions.

  “Take samples of the water before you wrap it up, just to close the loop. That’s the mark of a world-class researcher.”

  I do what he says and thank him for the help. As I gather my things together, he offers to be an expert witness and I promise we’ll take him up on it.

  The trial is only a week away so I drop Fargo off at the house and rush over to Semi-Environmental to test the water samples taken at the conclusion of the experiment, just for the record. To my surprise, the control group water is showing 5% S-form isomer when it should be showing none, only the harmless R-form. What in the world is happening?

  I run the problem by Doug.

  “Something changed it. Was there cross contamination from the 40% solution?”

  I call Brad at the alligator farm and he assures me that would be impossible.

  “The concrete wall between them is too high. I was the only one allowed in that area and made sure nothing like that could happen.”

  I retest the original water samples taken at the beginning of the experiment and they are the same, no changes detected. So where did the 5% S-form isomers come from? Since it wasn’t cross contamination, it had to be some type of chemical process, but nothing makes sense.

  I think back to my chemistry courses looking for a solution and then remember how ultra-violet light can break molecular bonds. Theoretically, it would be possible for UV radiation to split off the oxygen from a molecule of Farm-eXia, and then, when the light is removed, the oxygen would have a propensity to reattach. But there was nothing in theory that required it to reattach in the same place.

  That had to be it. It’s well known that the sun is a powerful emitter of UV rays and the water in the pen had been exposed to daily doses of direct sunlight for five weeks. The UV rays from the sun could have knocked off the oxygen, and then, when darkness came, it could be attaching in a different place causing the safe R-form isomer to be converted to the dangerous S-form. It would be a slow process, but five weeks was the right amount of time to produce a five percent solution. And because it was a slow gradual process, the baby gators in the control group weren’t exposed to the five percent concentration long enough to make any difference to their behavior. My calculations reinforce the theory, but I have to test it to be sure.

  I prepare three sterilized specimen jars mixing brand new Farm-eXia with clean well water to produce a 1.0 gram per liter solution, the same concentration as was found in the lake water. To make sure there are no surprises, I pretest them in the MSQ 9000 EVO which tells me they read 99.98% pure R-form isomer, exactly what I expected.

  I place the jars in a bag, and then, make my way to the roof up a steel ladder bolted to the inside wall. The ladder leads to a small trap door which opens out onto the roof. Doug had it installed to allow him easy access to the equipment and machinery that requires frequent service. I set up the three specimen jars between a co
uple of air conditioners where they would be in direct sunlight all day long, but somewhat protected from the frequent wind gusts that could displace the jars and ruin the experiment. And then, after exiting the roof, I wait.

  At noon, Berkeley calls to inform me that the trial has been scheduled to start in ten days, on a Monday, in Baltimore.

  “They chose Baltimore because it’s centrally located, only an hour from Washington by car and the same from Philadelphia. They’re planning to bring in their lobbyists, wine and dine them while they watch the slaughter. And then they can dash back to Washington to do their dirty work with renewed vigor. And they want to be close to Philadelphia because their main research facility is there and they can bring in expert witnesses at the drop of a hat.”

  He goes on to explain that jury selection is scheduled for this coming Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, and he plans to fly up to Baltimore on Tuesday night.

  “Do I need to be there?” I ask.

  “Oh heavens no. Jury selection is just a lot of legal pushing and shoving. You’d be bored in five minutes.”

  He tells me he wants us there the Sunday afternoon before the trial so we can get settled, and more importantly, have a meeting to go over strategy. He’s graciously taken on the expense of supplying me, Fargo, Doug, Brad, Sandy, and the Stewarts with airline tickets and hotel reservations which, he explains, will come out of the award. But secretly, I realize if I flub this and there’s no award and no settlement, Berkeley will end up bearing the entire cost of the trial, with nothing to show for it. Even though he’s well off financially and will hardly notice the expense, it weighs on my conscious nonetheless.

  I use the opportunity to explain to him my latest theory, how the harmless R-form isomer is being converted to S-form by the sun’s UV radiation.

  “That’s great. The more science the better. I need a report for GWI right away,” he says.

  “Are you sure you want to let them in on this? It’ll give them time to refute it.”

  “You already know why we can’t spring it on them in the courtroom. They’ll ask for a delay and that will increase costs all around. Remember, the law is the search for truth. If we miss something, and it comes out in the courtroom, it’ll look really bad, and the jury will not forgive us.”

  I conclude the call agreeing to send him the report as soon as I confirm the results. There’s nothing much else to do for the rest of the day so I let Doug know I’m leaving and then drive myself back home.

  I spend the weekend helping out at the restaurant and the time goes quickly. Then on Monday, I return to my job at Semi and complete the work Doug has set aside for me. After lunch, I climb back up to the roof and retrieve the specimen jars that were exposed to sunlight. They have now been up there a half-day on Friday, all day Saturday, all of Sunday, and a half-day on Monday, three days total.

  I anxiously run them through the MSQ 9000 EVO and measure the S-form isomer at 0.43 percent. Extrapolating this number over five weeks works out to five percent, the same number we got from the alligator farm. I feel a moment of exhilaration that this confirms the theory and then spend the afternoon finishing off the report I promised Berkeley. At four o’clock I email it to him and ten minutes later he emails back he’s going to reopen the $8 million settlement offer and use my report as a prod to get them to the table. He’s convinced this last bit of science will be enough to put doubt in their mind and push them to settle.

  But the week goes by and I hear nothing. And then, on Friday, Berkeley calls and tells me he had a settlement conference with them and they’re holding firm for a trial. They tell him they know about the ultraviolet effect and it’s a non-issue. They’re still convinced they’ll crush us in court. It’s a big win they want so they can splash it all over the media and scare off any other would be litigators, and they’ve made it perfectly clear to Berkeley; they’re going to spare no expense to get it.

  CHAPTER 32

  My alarm rings at 5:00 AM, and as I open my eyes, I realize this is Sunday, the day I fly to Baltimore to get ready for the trial. But ready I’m not. There are gaps in my theory, places where GWI can stuff a wedge and make me look unprepared and incompetent. I’m dealing with pros, researchers and scientists that have years of experience and have seen it all. They have no patience for an amateur.

  But I have no choice. I can only persevere and go forward. Backing out now would be an admission our case was poorly conceived and the judge would surely hit Berkeley and the Stewarts with Rule 11 sanctions for wasting everybody’s time. That could go into the millions, and even though I wouldn’t be personally liable, it would most certainly destroy my confidence and become my downfall. I must put on the best case I can, present the evidence passionately, with enthusiasm, in spite of the odds, and convince the judge and the jury, we have not approached this case with frivolity. I’m certain my theory is correct, but GWI feels confident they can prevail. What do they know I don’t? What could I possibly be missing?

  I hop out of bed, put on my exercise wear, and then sneak outside to the early morning twilight, careful not to make any noise. I make my way to the end of the pier, roll out my Yoga mat, assume the Lotus position, and then close my eyes, relax my body, and clear my mind. It’s cool and quiet, except for the occasional croak of a frog or the squawk of a bird, and I feel like I’m at the center of the universe.

  A gentle rain begins to fall, but I ignore it. The rain turns into a downpour, beating against the deck boards with such ferocity it creates a roar. It runs down my hair, over my face, and drenches my clothes, but I pay it no mind. Is it an omen? Is it a forewarning? Should I be worried?

  And then it stops, as abruptly as it started. I’m dripping wet, but not uncomfortable. My mind relaxes, drawing energy from the universe. My thoughts shoot back to December, when I first came here, and what a neophyte I was. I think about the people I met, the things I learned, and the courage I’d gained from independent thinking. A great rush comes over me. I feel exhilaration, and contentment, and confidence. I feel I can take on the world.

  I finish up my routine, roll up my mat, and head back to my bedroom. I get out of the wet clothes, take a shower, and get ready for the trip to Baltimore. I spend the morning packing my suitcase and reviewing my notes. Berkeley told me to be prepared for a two week trial, so I stuff as many clothes as possible into my luggage. It’s going to be business-casual for this trip. No one will be taking pictures in the courtroom and I’ll be far away from Damon so there’s no reason to be concerned about a disguise. And, of course, I won’t need the gun.

  At noon, I saunter into the living room dragging my carry-on and suitcase. Fargo, Doug, and Brad are sitting at the table, chatting among themselves. They’ve signed up to be expert witnesses and will accompany me on the flight to Baltimore. Berkeley has arranged it so they can testify right away, and then, fly back on Tuesday. Detective Bolt had offered to be an expert witness and was supposed to accompany us. But when his captain found out it was out of state, and would take more than a day, he balked at the idea. Berkeley had the good sense to get a video deposition from him which can be shown at any time during the trial.

  Will and Juanita wander in the front door, back from church. We had decided earlier it would be prudent to close the restaurant this week so he and Juanita would get a break from the constant pressure. Will has pledged to use the time to catch up on his sleep and we all agree he has earned that right. Juanita is using the opportunity to drive her parents to their former home in Laguna Pueblo, to visit their extended family.

  I approach Will and give him a hug. I do the same to Juanita. They wish us all a safe trip, and then we grab our things and exit. Since I’ll be flying back myself, I’ve decided to drive my own vehicle to the airport and park in the economy lot. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone to pick me up. Will has graciously offered to pick up Fargo, Doug, and Brad, when they fly back on Tuesday.

  We pile into my truck, and then, I drive the sixty mile trip to Daytona Inte
rnational. We arrive with plenty of time for the three o’clock flight, board the plane, and in two and a half hours, arrive at Baltimore-Washington airport. The Stewarts, along with Sandy, have flown out of Jacksonville and are waiting for us at the car rental area. I rent an eight passenger van, and drive everyone to a luxury hotel where Berkeley has reservations waiting for us.

  After we check-in and have dinner, Berkeley calls a pretrial meeting to review the facts and plan a strategy. He shows us the schedule he put together, when each person will testify, and gives everyone pointers on how to make a good impression on the stand.

  “You’ll be each paid $10,000 per day for your expert testimony. That’s the maximum the judge would allow. Any questions?”

  No one has a question so he dismisses the group but asks me to stay a while longer so he can review my latest results and go over the science he needs to present. His chemistry background allows him to grasp the concepts quickly and thoroughly and he takes detailed notes. By 10:00 PM we have covered all the main points so we break up for the night and return to our respective rooms.

  The next morning, I wander into the hotel lobby at 7:30 AM and meet up with the group. Berkeley joins us a few minutes later and he’s dressed in a crisp Italian suit over a pastel yellow shirt with a shiny blue tie. He not only looks the part of a successful big-city lawyer, he defines it. I would have never guessed it was the same guy we first met back at the yacht wearing white shorts, a golf shirt, and flip flops.

  He leads us out the door and along the sidewalk to the Edward A. Garmatz United States District Courthouse only a few blocks away. It’s an imposing structure, constructed of white concrete and glass in the seventies modern architectural style, and dominates an entire city block.