Second Degree (Benjamin Davis Book Series 2)

by A. Turk

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  THE DERBY

  Saturday, May 1, 1999

  (Almost Ten Months Later)

  Charlie couldn’t live with Robyn, but he couldn’t live without her either. They’d poke along a few months in silence, and one of them would break down and call the other. They were addicted to each other like a drug, certainly no damn good for each other. They’d hooked up twice since the day she walked out on him in New York, but each time the trip ended in a fight because of Charlie’s unwillingness to commit to their relationship.

  Despite their tumultuous existence, Charlie paid her each month $1,500 for an apartment and expenses in Hewes City, just south of Nashville. Those payments gave Charlie access to her. She’d just moved into a new apartment on the courthouse square. Her sister, Valerie, co-signed for her, and Charlie paid the deposits and the first month’s rent.

  This weekend would end differently, Charlie hoped. He flew down from New York to Louisville, Kentucky, and she drove up from Hewes City. He’d brought an entire pill bottle of Viagra; he received samples from the manufacturer.

  It was Derby weekend, and despite the demand, Charlie secured a suite at a Marriott Hotel near the track. They arrived separately, Charlie first and Robyn an hour later. They decided on a quickie before going to the track. The Viagra made it easy.

  Charlie bet on every race and lost $800. He figured he could afford it. Despite the fact it was only May, the sun was strong and beat down hard on the couple. Robyn got one of her cluster migraine headaches. She went to the racetrack store and took four Motrin but felt no relief. An hour later she complained, “Charlie, my head’s splitting. Those Motrin didn’t work. I need something stronger.”

  From conversations with Valerie, Charlie knew that Robyn’s drug use was more pronounced than when they’d lived together in New York. They’d partied but within limits. It was somewhat under control. According to Valerie, Robyn was totally out of control now, and her drug of choice was hydrocodone. Robyn didn’t name the drug, but Charlie knew that her request was for hydrocodone.

  “We can stop at a pharmacy on the way back to the hotel. I’ll write you a prescription,” he told her.

  “I’d like hydrocodone. It seems to work best.”

  “I bet it does,” Charlie said sarcastically.

  Robyn didn’t catch the condescending remark. She was too busy dreaming about her hydrocodone.

  He pulled into a Super AAA Pharmacy and got out while she stayed in the car. He walked up to the pharmacy counter.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Charles Garcia, and I’m going to write a prescription for my fiancée, Robyn Eden, for hydrocodone.”

  He handed Robert, whose nameplate identified him as a pharmacy tech, his DEA card that authorized Charlie by federal law to write prescriptions for narcotics.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, I can’t fill this prescription. You’re an out-of-state physician. I think it’s my company’s policy, but only a pharmacist can fill a Schedule III narcotic for an out-of-state physician. He’ll be back in an hour. He just stepped out for a late lunch. You’ll have to wait or come back.”

  After Charlie berated poor Robert for ten minutes, the young man relented and filled the prescription despite his understanding of company policy. Charlie paid and walked out the door with the pills.

  Once in the car, he handed Robyn the pill bottle, and she downed two of them before they got back to the hotel. Charlie thought he’d lie down before they went out to dinner. He hoped to at least go to the hotel restaurant, assuming that Robyn’s headache got better. Thirty minutes later, he inquired about how she was feeling. The answer was, “No better.”

  An hour later, he was getting really hungry, and he asked again. She grunted a negative response. He’d hoped for another go-round. He’d taken another Viagra.

  By eight he was about to order room service when Robyn spoke for the first time in more than two hours.

  “Where’s our relationship going?”

  “I think we’re doing fine. Maybe we should see each other more. I’ll fly down to Nashville.”

  “That’s not what I want. First, I want to meet your parents. Next, I want to get engaged. Then, I want to get married and start a family. That’s what I want. What do you want?”

  “I want to see you five or six times a year and have a great time whenever that happens.”

  “Then we want different things out of life.”

  As her words came out, Charlie could tell Robyn was getting angrier and angrier.

  “You’re an asshole, Charlie, a fucking asshole.” With that said, she ran into the bathroom.

  Fuck her, Charlie thought. I’m ordering room service. She wouldn’t answer, so he ordered only for himself. He ordered a double Jack on the rocks, shrimp and grits, and key lime pie for dessert. The food arrived in less than forty minutes, and he devoured it.

  He turned on the TV and selected a Seinfeld episode. It was the one where Kramer befriends some Cubans so he can continue to smoke Cuban cigars. When the episode ended, it was nine thirty, and Charlie knew that room service ended at ten. He knocked on the bathroom door. She’d been in there without a sound for almost an hour and a half.

  “Do you want anything from room service? I’ve eaten. Room service stops at ten, so I’ve got to order it now. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  No response, so he knocked again harder. Still nothing, so he banged on the door. Silence.

  “Look, you stubborn bitch, answer me!”

  She didn’t, so he broke down the door. He found her lying on the floor unconscious but breathing, with an empty pill bottle in her left hand.

  Initially stunned, he regained his doctor’s responses and dialed 911. The paramedics arrived in five minutes, and he rode in the ambulance to the hospital.

  Once at the hospital he reported to the emergency room attending physician that she overdosed from prescription hydrocodone. The physician confirmed that earlier in the day she’d filled the prescription of twenty pills and that Charlie was the prescribing doctor. After she was taken to the OR to have her stomach pumped, Charlie went to the waiting room.

  At midnight a police detective found Charlie in the waiting room and, after a few minutes of conversation, read him his Miranda rights, arrested him, and took him into custody.

  At two thirty after being booked, Charlie got his one phone call. He debated whether to call his father, Pierce, or Harrelson. Although Pierce was closer, three hours by car, she wasn’t licensed in Kentucky. He was afraid to call his father, so by process of elimination, Harrelson was the lucky one. Harrelson got things done; he was the man to call.

  Harrelson was sleeping. It was three thirty eastern time, and he didn’t appreciate being awakened, especially by Charlie. He told his client that he’d fly down on a private jet, but it was Sunday and there’d be nothing he could do. Once down there he’d figure out what to do. Harrelson agreed to call Señor Garcia later in the morning. There was no point in waking him up at that hour. The way Charlie Garcia treated and disappointed his parents was enough to break Harrelson’s heart—that is, if he had a heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  A DEAL IS CUT

  Monday, May 3, 1999

  A man of his word, Harrelson was at the Louisville, Jefferson County jail by one o’clock, but because it was Sunday, there were no judge, no DA, and no police chief to influence or bribe. The fate of Dr. Charles Garcia would simply have to wait until Monday, and Charlie would have to remain in jail. Harrelson checked into a Holiday Inn near the jail.

  On Monday at 10:00 a.m. when Harrelson managed to get in to see him under the attorney-client relationship, Charlie complained about the delay, rather than being thankful. He wanted out. That really angered Harrelson. Charlie Garcia was a pain in the butt and was unappreciative. If it wasn’t for his father, he’d let the kid rot in jail.

  Harrelson looked at his pocket watch, his Waltham, and advised the younger Garcia that the bail hearing wasn’t till three. Harrelson appr
oached the DA to discuss Charlie’s case. He learned that Robyn survived and was thinking about prosecuting Charlie for reckless endangerment. The DA, whose name was Peter Taylor, informed Harrelson that Charlie was also charged with wrongfully prescribing a narcotic.

  Harrelson asked, “I don’t understand. Dr. Garcia has a federally issued DEA number. How could he wrongfully prescribe a narcotic?”

  “He’s an out-of-state physician. Only a pharmacist can fill a narcotic prescription, and he bullied the pharmacist tech to fill Ms. Eden’s. He violated the law.”

  Harrelson, who was extremely bright and motivated to get his client off so he could go back home, tried to twist the law. “Isn’t that the problem of the pharmacy? They knew the law. Dr. Garcia didn’t. He had no intent to violate the law. Is that crime a felony, punishable by more than one year?”

  “It carries one to three years. Intent is not an element. He’s guilty the moment he hands the prescription to the pharmacist tech.”

  “This is a simple misunderstanding. Who’s the judge?”

  “Judge Corey Olsen.”

  Harrelson excused himself to find the office of Judge Corey Olsen. It was on the third floor of the courthouse, and Harrelson walked straight in and introduced himself. He told the judge what happened and noted Charlie’s ignorance of the law. He explained that a conviction would destroy a promising and lucrative medical practice. He assured the judge that Robyn Eden, Charlie’s girlfriend, ultimately wouldn’t testify, so it would be much more difficult to secure a conviction.

  Ethics didn’t bother Harrelson. This ex parte communication, without the county attorney present, didn’t matter to his sense of justice. For some reason it didn’t bother Judge Olsen, either. Harrelson was a deal maker, and he knew just how hard to push.

  Olsen was sympathetic, and he accepted Harrelson’s explanation for Charlie’s conduct. For the next fifteen minutes they talked about possible solutions.

  Harrelson asked the judge, “When a defendant pays a fine, where do those funds go?”

  “That’s a very interesting question, Mr. Harrelson. Half goes into the general county coffers, and the other half goes into the judges’ and DA’s retirement fund. Donations are appreciated.”

  Harrelson felt good about his conversation with Judge Olsen. No dollar amount was agreed to, a pretrial diversion was mentioned, but Harrelson was confident he could buy Charlie’s way out of this one.

  The deputy brought Charlie into court. Harrelson was licensed in several states but not Kentucky. For $500, he hired a local co-counsel, so he would be permitted to speak in court. Charlie’s was the third case called. This was supposed to be a bond hearing and, if the parties agreed, an arraignment.

  DA Taylor addressed the court, “Your Honor, Dr. Charles Garcia recklessly endangered the life of Robyn Eden and illegally prescribed narcotics. I’ve interviewed the pharmacy tech, Robert Cummings, and Ms. Eden …”

  Judge Olsen cut Taylor off. Harrelson figured the more said in open court, the harder to cut a deal. Judge Olsen was his kind of guy. Olsen announced a fifteen-minute break and asked Harrelson and Taylor to meet with him in chambers.

  “General, this doctor made a mistake. The girl locked herself in a bathroom, and she took the drugs. He didn’t administer them.”

  “He broke the law, Judge. If not for him, that girl wouldn’t be in the hospital. He bullied that tech into breaking the law. We can’t just tolerate such conduct.”

  Harrelson interrupted, “According to my client, he was told the restriction was company policy, not a violation of the law.”

  “Well, he was misinformed,” replied Taylor, who turned to the judge and asked, “What do you suggest, sir?”

  Taylor knew Olsen and his skewed form of justice. He sensed the hammer was about to come down and wanted to hear what the judge said before he committed too far.

  Judge Olsen looked deep in thought before answering DA Taylor’s question, “Let’s start with a fine. I’d say $20,000 should do it. He’ll do pretrial diversion, and if Dr. Garcia remains out of trouble, we’ll expunge his record. The document will remain under seal so that the New York Medical Board won’t have access and won’t be notified.”

  Harrelson watched Taylor closely. The young DA almost blew a gasket. His face got red, and his voice quivered with anger, “Judge, I can’t sign off on that deal. He can’t just walk away without consequences. He can’t just buy his way out of this problem. Ms. Eden almost died. This is serious, and with all due respect, I wouldn’t characterize this as a mistake. The victim wants us to prosecute.”

  Harrelson saw his opportunity. “Excuse me, General Taylor, I’m willing to submit any deal we make to Ms. Eden for her approval. These people know each other intimately. They have a long-term relationship. She doesn’t want Dr. Garcia prosecuted. Let’s make her approval a contingency.”

  Harrelson knew that Charlie could influence Robyn to withdraw her cooperation. Charlie would simply sweet-talk her.

  Judge Olsen spoke next, “That seems fair to me, General. If the victim wants this resolved quickly, why should we pursue it? Pretrial diversion is the right solution. I want your help on this one, General. We see each other every day. We’ve got to work together. After Mr. Harrelson leaves following this hearing, you and I will continue to negotiate deals. I can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Help me get this done.”

  Harrelson could tell that ultimately the judge would win, but Harrelson wanted this matter to end today. He thought he’d sweeten the pot.

  “What about if Dr. Garcia agrees to increase the fine to $50,000?”

  Now Taylor saw his opportunity. “I want this man to feel responsibility for his conduct into the future. I’d say three years’ probation would impose that sense of responsibility.”

  Harrelson cringed at the thought of Charlie Garcia on probation. He wasn’t confident that Charlie could stay out of trouble that long. Unfortunately, Taylor’s suggestion made sense, and the judge did have to work with the DA’s office after Charlie walked out the door.

  The judge stated, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Dr. Garcia is going to pay a $50,000 fine. I’m going to enter a sealed order that provides for pretrial diversion, which will be expunged eighteen months from the date of entry of the order. During that eighteen-month period, Dr. Garcia will be on probation. I appoint Alan Baxter as Dr. Garcia’s probation officer. Dr. Garcia is required to call Mr. Baxter every week and report his status and verify he’s remained within the boundaries of his probation.

  “In addition, every quarter Dr. Garcia will travel to Louisville and meet with Mr. Baxter to review the status of his probation. Dr. Garcia will surrender his passport, and his travel will be restricted to within the United States. This deal is contingent on the victim, Ms. Eden, agreeing that prosecution is not appropriate. That’s the deal. I want the two of you to accept this deal and like it.”

  Harrelson extended his hand, and Taylor reluctantly took it. Harrelson needed to explain the deal to Charlie and turn him loose to charm Robyn Eden. Harrelson didn’t have confidence that Charlie could stay out of trouble for eighteen months, but he was confident that Charlie could charm Robyn into approving the deal.

  Charlie was more concerned about his confiscated Viagra prescription and how he could get more from the manufacturer. Despite his need to distance himself from Robyn Eden, he knew he wouldn’t. He was addicted to her and knew eventually he’d be drawn to see her again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  THE HOSPITAL

  Tuesday, July 4, 2000

  (Almost Fourteen Months Later)

  The ambulance with lights flashing and sirens blaring pulled into the emergency room entrance of the Hewes County Hospital. The staff came running out to meet the EMTs and their patient. Charlie jumped out the back of the ambulance; it was ten forty-six. They’d hit quite a bit of traffic leaving the town square because of the fireworks observers. It took probably twice as long, even with the sirens blasting.
>
  Despite his medical training, Charlie was pale and nauseous. As a medical student and resident, he’d dealt with critically ill patients, but for the last five years he’d limited his practice to cosmetics. Besides, this was very personal. He loved this woman.

  The paramedics carefully unloaded the gurney with its precious cargo. Charlie followed behind the gurney. Just inside the automatic doors of the emergency room there was an exchange of information between hospital staff and the paramedics. The patient was seemingly transferred. Although he was listening, Charlie didn’t comprehend what was being said. He was going into shock.

  He mindlessly tried to follow the gurney into a treatment room and was barred by a huge black woman in a nurse’s uniform. “Where do you think you’re going, sir?”

  Charlie’s mind was racing, but he dug down deep and with absolute control and authority in a loud enough voice for everyone in the treatment room to hear said, “Excuse me, I’m Dr. Charles Garcia, and she’s my patient.”

  The nurse let him pass with no further comment. He needed information and walked straight up to the attending doctor. He was tall and black, wearing blue scrubs.

  “How’s she doing, Doctor?”

  “You claim to be her doctor-fiancé. What’s she on, and how much did she take? She’s in real trouble.”

  Charlie hesitated for what seemed to him a very long time, but it was only a minute. He wanted to contemplate his words carefully. He knew what he said needed to be consistent with what he told the paramedics or there’d be trouble.

  “She’s been partying several days. She’s an addict. I know she’s drunk at least two liters of vodka, smoked a couple of joints, and disappeared into the bathroom almost a dozen times. What she did in there I just don’t know. I’ve been trying to get her into rehab since I came to town.”

  He failed to mention the syringe, white powder, and her bleeding from the femoral region. Those were lies by omission.

  Charlie fingered the bottle of Viagra in his front pocket.