by Melissa Hill
At the end of the message, Scott offered his phone number for her to call. And within seconds of reading his message, Madeleine had him on the line.
I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner, but I’ve had my head down studying and haven’t really been keeping up with current news events. But I’m pretty certain that your daughter didn’t infect that little girl with measles, and I think I can prove it.
50
Striding toward the courthouse the following Monday morning, Declan told me he had a strong feeling that the judge would adjourn for deliberations first thing.
And if not, this afternoon at the latest.
Before Madeleine’s...performance on Friday, I would have definitely been worried about this. Indeed, there was still a considerable amount of angst sloshing around in my stomach about how all of this was going to go, but, at the same time, Declan’s confidence was contagious. The realization that this could all be over soon buoyed my spirits.
What did not help my spirits was the memory of Madeleine’s words, now seared into my consciousness, that I had made the same decision, and that by choosing not to vaccinate Rosie, I was equally responsible for what had happened to her.
It wasn’t as if I hadn’t already had that thought myself, but the fact that Madeleine felt much the same way about the MMR autism risk gave me food for thought.
If she was truly worried for her children’s safety, was genuinely terrified that the vaccine would cause harm to Jake or Clara, in the same way I’d worried about Rosie’s allergy, then how could I realistically castigate that decision?
And despite all the denials and studies debunking the autism link, it would indeed be very difficult to take a chance and simply trust that everything would be OK, when you’d seen another child change utterly in front of your own eyes.
Anecdotal, yes, but weren’t most parenting decisions borne from personal experience? Yes, Madeleine had made a mistake in not recognizing the additional risks posed anytime one of her children contracted an infection, but again, like any parent, she couldn’t realistically be on alert twenty-four hours a day.
But most of all, seeing and listening to her on the stand that day, I’d finally gotten what I’d always wanted, the one thing from Madeleine I’d always felt was missing right from the very beginning—genuine contrition. That wasn’t a simple rehash of her face-saving blog post or a halfhearted attempt to smooth things over by sending gifts; it was a genuine apology and what I could see was huge remorse on her side.
The woman had been suffering, too, possibly way more than I knew, and in more ways than one, too, when I thought about the way she’d been vilified and ridiculed, not only by the general public, but among our own community.
While, all along, everyone had my back.
And I had to admit that after all that, taking the stand and facing down her detractors took courage, even if she’d likely blown it all in the end. Much to Declan’s and the legal team’s delight. But now I couldn’t help but feel that if Madeleine Cooper was guilty of anything, it was of being her own worst enemy.
Still, we’d all come way too far to back out now, and while I might have done things differently if I’d had the opportunity to hear Madeleine’s side way back, now I needed to push on and let this play out, for Rosie’s sake at least.
The state only covered so much of her rehabilitation expenses and equipment, and I needed to do the utmost for my daughter if I wanted to give her the best chance of a full recovery. I owed it to her.
Approaching the entrance to the building, and the sea of media that seemed to live outside, I remembered that out-of-the-blue comment I’d made after the trial broke up for the weekend to that journalist Gemma Moore when she’d stuck a microphone in my face outside the courtroom. About how that dinosaur expo last Easter had been the last time I’d seen my daughter truly happy and carefree.
It was true and I would give my right arm to see Rosie back playing with her dinosaurs and creating havoc in her bedroom as she faced down one plastic herd of carnivores against another of its herbivore rivals.
I hoped against hope that day would come soon.
“Well, if everything is coming to an end shortly,” I said to Declan, “I certainly won’t miss all this.” I waved my hand in the media’s direction.
He stole a glance at me and smiled. “Not keen on the spotlight, eh? I must say, though, you were pretty good with that journalist on Friday afternoon, really spoke from the heart. Which was great, as we needed the focus to remain on Rosie and not on what Madeleine Cooper said.”
But today, just as we had in previous days, we walked through the mass of cameras, keeping our eyes focused on the doors in front of us. I said nothing and Declan kept up his usual script of “No comment” to their litany of questions.
I’m still not quite sure what it was that had made me stop and say something to them the other day. Possibly because Madeleine’s words had made more of an impression on me than was comfortable. In any case, it hardly mattered, but it did have the effect of making them even more insistent than usual, and now they crowded around, blocking our entrance, hoping for a fresh insight.
Making our way purposefully into the building, we headed toward the bank of elevators and waited to be taken up to the fifth floor. I straightened my shoulders. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t miss this building, either, when all of this was over. I had better not get called for jury duty anytime soon, I thought ruefully to myself.
Then again, I did have a very good reason for being excused.
A moment later, we were exiting onto our floor. Some errant reporters had made their way in and now waited outside the courtroom. That had been happening more frequently, hence my broken silence the other day. I spied Gemma Moore among their numbers and, acknowledging her from before, I made brief eye contact, but that was it. Her relentless pursuit of Madeleine over the last year or so had in fact scared the living bejesus out of me, and now I didn’t want to do anything else to ignite her interest in me.
Declan held the door to the courtroom open for me and I entered. The room was just then only about half-full, and we took our usual seats without hesitation.
Madeleine, Tom and their solicitor weren’t there yet. Glancing at my watch, I realized it was only about ten minutes or so until our Monday-morning session was scheduled to start. Weird. They had been here bright and early all last week and I wondered if they were held up in traffic. Or had perhaps just given up?
But if they had, surely we would know about it?
Saying as much to Declan as we got settled, he shrugged and said basically what I’d been thinking, when suddenly the court bailiff approached us.
“Mr. Roe?” the man said. “Judge Dowling requests to see you and your client in his chambers this morning.”
Declan wore a confused expression. “What’s this about?”
The bailiff shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. If you could follow me, please.”
After gathering the papers that he had been arranging on the table, Declan shoved the lot back into his briefcase and nodded to me. I grabbed my things and followed unquestioningly.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to him.
“I really don’t know,” he replied, looking concerned.
In my mind, I started going through all of the possible scenarios that could have happened in the previous weekend that we needed to have a private audience with the judge. Had Madeleine and Tom been in an accident and were laid up at the hospital? Maybe after her testimony they had decided they wanted to settle? Or perhaps they’d skipped the country and were currently headed to Timbuktu? Idea after idea floated through my head—all of them wrong.
Nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for what happened next.
The bailiff opened the door to the judge’s chambers and upon our entry we discovered tha
t Madeleine and Tom weren’t running late, nor had escaped the country. They were already there, as was their solicitor, Townsend. There were also two other people in the room: one a younger man I didn’t recognize, aged around nineteen or twenty, I surmised, as well as an older gentleman who had the look of another solicitor or legal representative of some kind.
The younger of the two looked as if he had just rolled out of bed a half an hour ago and found a crumpled and ill-fitting suit balled up in the back of his wardrobe. He wore a pair of glasses that seemed far too big for his face, but held himself in such a way that it was evident he was confident about himself—appearances aside. He met my gaze with a knowing look that conveyed he felt he was the smartest person in the room just then.
The look chilled me.
The other man looked to be somewhere in his mid-sixties and was carrying on a quiet discourse with Judge Dowling—it was clear that they knew each other. How, I wasn’t sure. The man wore a carefully tailored navy blue suit and his hands were manicured and buffed. He was well turned out and put together, and I was curious to know who these two strangers were and what their sudden involvement in our case could be.
“Ah, Mr. Roe and Ms. O’Hara,” said Judge Dowling. “Good morning.”
Declan seemed to be studying the room. “Good morning, Judge.” He paused. “Forgive me for being so blunt, but I’m hoping someone can tell us what is going on.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Not our plan to catch you unawares, but something important has developed over the weekend,” replied the judge. “Mrs. Cooper, I believe you wanted to say something.”
I turned my attention to Madeleine, who had been sitting quietly next to her husband. She wore an expression on her face that I was unable to read, but I noticed in that moment that her hands were shaking. She was nervous about something. I wondered if she was about to say they were ready to mediate a settlement.
Turning to face me, she said, “Kate, an interesting piece of information emerged on Friday evening. Something important. And, even in light of all that has happened, I didn’t feel it appropriate to present this in court and catch you off guard—I didn’t want you to feel like you had been blindsided.” I listened carefully to her words, realizing that this was the first time we’d conversed with one another outside of that terrible day in the grocery store. “I know that this has been a difficult experience. For all of us.” She glanced around the room and rested her eyes briefly on the young man who had not yet been introduced—to us at least. “But I think that this new information could change what happens next.”
I felt completely confused. Honestly, was anyone going to tell us what the hell was going on? Glancing at the solicitors, and then returning my gaze to Madeleine, I said, “OK, seriously, what’s going on? Who are these people?”
Madeleine continued, “Kate, this is Scott Ferguson, he’s a biology student at City College. Scott contacted me on Friday via my website about some information that he thought might be important to me—to both of us, really.” Looking at the older man, Madeleine said, “And this man is his solicitor, John Fleming.”
I still didn’t know how these two people fit into our case and, while I waited for someone to offer a further explanation, the student spoke up.
“Ms. O’Hara, I contacted Mrs. Cooper after something you said in the six-o’clock news report on Friday caught my attention. It isn’t because I am interested in your case or the controversy surrounding it. It was because of what you said, about your daughter and the dinosaur expo.”
I frowned, taken aback. “What has that got to do with anything...”
“Well, it caught my attention because I was a guide at that exhibition. I work on a part-time basis in the RDS during the school holidays. Mostly, I’m responsible for talking people through the various exhibits and answering questions about the displays. Regardless, the news report followed up with a mention that you had attended the Dinosaur Live expo over Easter, followed by a picture of your daughter on-screen. I remember her.”
The student’s solicitor obviously read my confused expression, because he held up a hand to Scott.
“Ms. O’Hara, I have been fully briefed on the details of your case and the nature of the legal proceedings currently before the court. I understand that your and Mrs. Cooper’s children contracted measles largely at the same time and that the thrust of this case has been focused on appropriating blame for the infection. Well, we are here to tell you that you can no longer blame the Cooper family for your daughter’s illness. It was almost certainly Scott who exposed her at the exhibition, because he was deeply infectious with the disease at that time.”
51
My mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry—what? I don’t understand!” I exclaimed and Declan moved to put a comforting hand on my arm.
“I remember your daughter; she was talking about Mosasaurus and how the latest Jurassic Park movie got the details all wrong,” Scott continued. He smiled a little. “And I agreed with her, but it was only the other day, when I saw her picture on the news report, that I put two and two together. Over the weekend, I contacted a buddy at the RDS who was able to pull the security footage for the dates in question, and we brought that here this morning for you all to see. I figured that would be necessary to prove my involvement.” He motioned to a laptop situated on a table next to the judge. On the screen a black-and-white video was paused—it showed the inside of the expo location and a mass of people congregated in groups around the various dinosaur exhibits.
“In any case, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection at all and wouldn’t have shown any interest if that journalist hadn’t talked to you. Like I said, I remember the day you and your daughter were there, and it was the following day that I ended up going home early from my shift because I was feeling so off. I couldn’t get out of bed after that and was out of commission for almost two weeks.”
I was shaking my head, still in disbelief, when Declan spoke up. “You were diagnosed with measles at the time? I assume you reported your infection to the RDS?”
Scott continued, “Well, firstly, I didn’t actually realize until now that what I had actually was measles, because I am vaccinated. So I suppose it’s very possible that I’m a nonresponder. I only compared my symptoms with what was standard for the virus when I thought there might be a connection between myself and your case. I did phone Care Doc at the time last year, and they said it was likely a viral infection—and I wasn’t going to spend more money going to a GP or the hospital when I know that viruses cannot be treated. As you know, Ms. O’Hara, since you are a nurse, antibiotics don’t do anything for viruses and, as I had no further complications—my symptoms were mild and nowhere near what either of your daughters experienced—my only option was to sit at home and wait the thing out. Mrs. Cooper, I understand that your daughter did much the same.”
Madeleine nodded solemnly. “That’s right. We just kept Clara at home until she was feeling better.”
“Measles is one of those diseases that is very manageable if it’s not too serious,” stated Scott knowledgeably. “So I managed it. Recounting my experience with the benefit of hindsight, yes, I had a slight rash, as well as the coughing, sneezing, sore throat, fever, all of those things. I loaded myself up on vitamin A, vitamin C, zinc, acetaminophen and what have you, drank plenty of fluids and I got rest. However, I now realize I was also contagious. Dangerously so.”
Hindsight...
John Fleming pulled the laptop closer to him. “Ms. O’Hara, Mr. Roe, it’s probably best if you watch the security footage.”
Declan and I both approached the laptop like it was a ticking time bomb. As Fleming pressed Play and pointed to where Scott was on the screen, I immediately spied Rosie on the day we attended the expo on March 15. She was chatting to Scott beside a Triceratops display, nodding attentively while also touching and inspecting the various el
ements that Scott—who all the while kept sneezing and coughing into his hand—indicated.
It was something of an otherworldly experience—as I watched this strange man visibly infect my child with an invisible virus that would fester within her for the next few days, waiting to rear its ugly head and change our lives forever.
I watched the tape back a few times until I was clear of one thing—the most important thing—which in itself led to a terrifying realization: Clara didn’t infect Rosie with measles.
In fact, it was the other way around...
I turned to Madeleine Cooper, my eyes full of remorse and mortification. “I...I’m not sure what to say.”
To her credit, she, and indeed her husband, didn’t appear superior or dismissive toward me. As I struggled to find more words, Declan asked a question. “Where would you have been exposed, Scott?”
“Well, I started trying to figure this out once I realized it was measles that I actually had. My best guess is that I picked it up in the lab at some point. I had a molecular-biology module last year that paid great attention to the spread of infectious diseases. Measles is a member of the Paramyxoviridae family, and we worked with some strains of this disease in the lab—family members, I mean, not necessarily a live measles virus. I’m thinking that perhaps whatever strain we worked with actually morphed and changed, which is possible with viral structures such as this. Like they say in that old dinosaur movie, nature always finds its own way—nothing anyone can do to prevent that. And coupled with the fact that your immunity becomes reduced as you get older, which would be impactful for me if I did happen to be a non-responder, it’s completely possible that my blood contains fewer IgG antibodies...”
John Fleming held up a hand as his client grew more and more animated. “Scott, I really don’t think it’s necessary to go into that much scientific detail,” admonished his solicitor.
