“Once again, let me remind you that you are not dealing with a rookie. You do not have a body, and you’ve already told me that the evidence you’ve developed indicates blood from a live person. Clearly, there is insufficient evidence for a murder charge at this time.”
“Is that how you intend to play this, Counselor?”
“I honestly want to help, but I have to represent my client ethically and zealously. So without more, this is what I have to do. Trust me: I intend to conduct my own investigation, and I would like to begin by speaking with Tommy’s doctor and with his father.
Stone took a pause. “You may have a problem with the father. The last I heard, he was in a coma and being cared for at a hospital on Long Island. It seems he was found unconscious by officers from New Jersey who were looking to question him about his son. He was diagnosed with acute alcohol poisoning.”
“What is his present condition?” Levy asked.
“I don’t know, but give me a minute and I will give you the location of the hospital and you can visit him. But where are you going with this?”
Levy didn’t try to hide his smile. “That, Detective, is privileged. And while we’re at it, I would like to see my client’s meds and I need the address of his doctor too.”
Stone became visibly uncomfortable but tried to hide it. “Sorry, Counselor, but for the time being, the meds are evidence.”
“Fine. I’ll just have to get the information I need from his doctor. In the meantime, I’ll take those addresses now.”
* * *
Levy made an afternoon appointment with Tommy’s doctor and headed out to the hospital first. An hour later, he arrived at North Shore University Hospital in Nassau County and made his way to Joseph Sullivan’s room.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sullivan,” Levy said, stretching out his hand.
“Who the hell are you?” Sullivan asked, still focused on the TV screen fastened high on the wall.
Levy pulled his hand back. “My name is Harold Levy. I’m your son’s attorney . . . I was told you were in a coma.”
“Do I look like I’m in a coma, kid?”
“Uh . . . no, sir, and it’s good to see that.”
“Lawyer, huh? What the hell’s going on with Tommy, anyway? He hasn’t even been here to see me.”
“Frankly, sir, I don’t believe he knows you are here. He’s been having a bit of his own troubles, which is why I came to see you.”
“I suppose that’s got something to do with all the cops that’ve been coming by the house lately?”
“It does.”
“Well, where is he now?”
“He’s being held at the Third Precinct in Manhattan.”
“Just great. What’d he do?”
“Sir, it’s not necessarily what he did; it’s what he’s accused of doing, and I’m investigating to see what I can do to help.” Levy treaded lightly. “Are you feeling up to answering some questions for me?”
“That depends, kid. How do I know you’re really his lawyer?”
“I’m a public defender from Port Jervis.” Levy reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it to Sullivan. “Your son was first picked up in my jurisdiction on a kidnapping offense. He has since been extradited to Manhattan to answer charges locally. I told him I would continue to handle his case because I think I can help.”
“Well, the kid’s not too bright, but he’s no criminal, either; so what can I do to help?”
“Good—I’m glad you want to assist. Do you know much about the drugs he’s taking?”
“Drugs? He don’t do drugs!”
“I’m sorry. I meant to say medication. Are you aware he’s been involved in an experimental study and he’s taking medication for his migraine headaches?”
“I don’t know nothing about no study. I do know that he’s always had these bad headaches ever since he was a kid, but that’s it. We don’t talk much these days. I work, he works, we don’t see much of each other. He comes and goes as he pleases. Sometimes I don’t see him for days at a time.”
“What about his friends? Would you recognize any names if I told you them?”
“Probably not. No one comes around, and like I said, we don’t do a lot of talking.”
“Let me try, anyway. Does the name Troyer Savage mean anything to you?”
Sullivan rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger while rolling his eyes upward. “I can’t be sure.” He shook his head, still thinking. “No, I’d remember a name like that.”
“Excuse me, sir, but you hesitated for a moment.”
“It’s nothing, I was just trying to remember the names of some of his friends, but he’s not one of them.”
“Okay, then, what can you tell me about his past? You said Tommy’s had these headaches ever since he was a kid. Do you remember when they first started?”
“Ever since I can remember—even before my wife ran out on us.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to ask: When was that?”
“Ah, it’s no problem. She’s been gone for over fifteen years already. Tommy was around ten or eleven, and he’d been having the headaches for years by then. She used to take him to the doctor for that and for other stuff.”
“What you mean by other stuff?”
“Hey, we’re going way back now. Best I can remember my wife thought he was a difficult kid, always getting into trouble and not doing good in school. I said it was a phase, but she never listened to me.”
“Would I be getting too personal if I asked why she left?”
“Hell, so much time’s passed, I don’t really give a shit anymore.”
“Yes, sir, but it may help in building a defense for Tommy.”
“You think so?”
“I do, so please tell me everything. If he had a troubled childhood, I could use that.”
“Troubled ain’t the word,” Sullivan said with regret. “How ’bout dysfunctional. And it’s been eating me up inside ever since he was born. Believe me: I’ve had a lot of time to think about the mistakes we made back then.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but maybe it’s because I’m lying here in a hospital half-dead.” Sullivan reached for his stomach in obvious pain. “I mean, I’ve been drinking myself to death just trying to forget for so long.”
“That’s okay, sir. Sometimes it’s good just to let these things out.”
“Yeah, right,” Sullivan said as he reached for the TV remote and clicked it off. “Back when Tommy was born, we didn’t have much money. I mean, we were excited about having a kid and all, but we were young and not totally prepared. Anyway, toward the end of her pregnancy, we found out that my wife was having twins. We knew we could barely afford one kid, but two—there was just no way. So this doctor suggested to us that we could put up one for adoption and get paid for it. We thought about it and figured the extra money would help us with raising the other, and so we just went for it.”
“I understand.” Levy said, compassionately.
“No, I don’t think you do. You see, we sold our son, and we actually had to look at both of them and choose one. That was hard enough. But what we did to Tommy after that was probably worse.”
“Go on.”
“Well, we felt so guilty all the time while we were raising Tommy, and we started blaming each other and fighting all the time. It took its toll on my wife; she started taking drugs and drinking, and I started drinking, too. I’m sure it’s why she left us. Then, a year or so later, after a night of drinking, I finally told Tommy about his twin brother. I didn’t have the heart to tell him we actually sold his brother, though, so I told him he died at birth instead.”
“Wow, that’s quite a story. How did Tommy take it?”
“He was young, so it didn’t seem to affect him, but now, looking back, it destroyed my marriage, so who knows what it really did to Tommy?”
“May I make an observation, sir?” Levy asked.
Sullivan nodded.
“From what you’ve told me, it appears that Tommy’s troubles started at a young age. Children are very perceptive, so it makes sense that he would have been affected by the guilt you two carried around—and certainly the fighting, drinking, and drugs.”
“Believe me: I’ve thought about that, too. But there’s more. Ever since my wife left us, I’ve been a shithead. I started drinking more and more and never even got involved with Tommy’s schooling or raising him. I just worked, came home, drank, passed out, and did it all over again the next day. Tommy practically raised himself, and I still came down hard on him. I mean, I’d yell at him for every little thing. I’d force him to clean the house, do the laundry, and do the shopping. If that wasn’t bad enough, I’d take out my bad days on him all the time.”
“Sounds like you have quite a few regrets, sir,” Levy said.
“Yeah, well, lying here these past few days has really started making me think about what I’ve done with my life, ya know? I haven’t had a drink in all this time, and I’m actually starting to think more clearly than I have in a long time.”
“That’s a good thing, sir. Perhaps you and Tommy need to reconnect.”
“That’s an understatement. At this point, I doubt he’d even be concerned enough to visit me. And if he did, I wouldn’t even know what to say to him.”
“A suggestion, sir: If you do get the opportunity, why not tell him some of what you told me? Perhaps it may not be the time to tell him everything about his brother, but if you open up about your regrets, he may respond.”
“I dunno. Anyways, this ain’t as important as getting him out of jail. Do you really think you can help him?”
“I do.” Levy said as he got up to leave. “And what you’ve told me will be very instrumental.”
“That’s good. Hey, can you do me a favor and tell Tommy I asked about him and that I’ll come and see him when they let me outta here?”
“Of course. I have one more question, though.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did you or your wife have any contact with your other son or the people who adopted him after you gave him up?”
Sullivan shifted uncomfortably in his bed, looked away from Levy, and shook his head. “No.”
“Very well. Get some rest. I may need to talk with you again.”
CHAPTER 72
Levy made his way to the Center for Migraine Pain Management in Brooklyn and was led into the office of Dr. Baruch Diamond. It was an impressive room decorated with professional aesthetic care. Scholarly books lined one wall; a large window behind the desk overlooked a courtyard. The side wall, covered with degrees, was fronted by a mahogany credenza that displayed professional accolades and family photographs.
Dr. Diamond looked up from a report he was reading and offered a warm smile. “I’m told you represent Thomas Sullivan.”
“Yes, Doctor. My name is Harold Levy, and I’m a public defender with the City of Port Jervis.”
“A long way from home, young man.”
“It is, sir, but circumstances warrant my appearance locally.”
“I see. So what can I do for you?”
“Well, Doctor, first let me give you this.” Levy handed him a document. “It’s an authorization form. As you can see, it is signed by my client and notarized. It gives you full permission to discuss everything about Thomas Sullivan’s treatment here. Understand, you are not waiving privilege by speaking with me. I, too, am bound by an equally important privilege, so everything we talk about will remain confidential. I am in need of complete candor, though, sir, if I am to properly and effectively represent my client.”
“I understand. However, you need to understand things from my perspective, as well. As I told the detective I spoke with on the phone the other day, this is a very important study we are conducting here. Beyond the privacy concerns of Mr. Sullivan, we have privacy concerns of a much larger dimension. There are over one hundred and fifty subjects whose privacy I am obligated to protect, as well as that of the study itself.”
“It is not my intention to upset or undermine your study,” Levy said. “I simply need information about Mr. Sullivan.”
“Yes, but as far as questions relate to the effects of the medicine and comparisons to other test subjects . . .”
Levy interrupted. “I assure you, Doctor, I am only interested in helping my client. Everything you say will remain between us. I fully appreciate doctor-patient privilege.”
“Fair enough. Ask your questions, and I will answer them to the best of my ability, taking into account that if I believe something is outside the scope, I will reserve my right not to answer.”
“Very well, Doctor. To begin with, can you tell me generally about the study and how you came to meet Thomas Sullivan?”
“The study is quite simple. My colleagues and I have been working with a private drug research group, and we have developed what we believe is a breakthrough formula that can cure even the most severe migraine headaches in less than an hour. We have been testing the drug for almost three years, on a variety of subjects, as part of the FDA approval process. We have reached the stage of the trials where we are testing those patients who are chronic and experience severe symptoms on a regular basis. Thomas Sullivan is one of them.”
“How did you find him?” Levy asked.
“Actually, he found us. The Center advertised for subjects on the radio and in print. He responded and filled out a questionnaire. After reviewing his history, we selected him for an in-person interview, found him to be a good candidate, and took him into the study. That was almost three months ago.”
“And how has he been responding?” Levy asked. “I assume you have regular examinations and written reports?”
“He has been doing very well. And yes, of course we have regular exams and written reports. Those, I’m afraid, are confidential and cannot be inspected or released.”
“I respect that, Doctor, but what if I told you that Mr. Sullivan has been experiencing blackouts?”
The doctor looked directly into Levy’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but I find that hard to believe. Mr. Sullivan has never said anything like that to me at all. In fact, he was here to refill his prescription only a few days ago, and I spoke with him at length. He never mentioned anything about blackouts. Thomas was ecstatic about the performance of the medicine. He reported to me that he has never felt better.”
“Well, Doctor, did you ever consider that he may have had ulterior motives in reporting his results to you?”
Dr. Diamond was perplexed. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Think about it. He is being paid a substantial amount of money. Additionally, if the pills are working but have certain side effects, he may not have wanted you to know for fear of being dropped from the study. After all, he’d lose the money and the medicine. Perhaps to him the side effects may be worth it.”
“Point taken, Mr. Levy, but that is out of my control. We emphasize the importance of reporting all side effects and stress this over and over again. All of our patients sign an agreement acknowledging this. Moreover, the failure to disclose side effects is grounds for termination from the study. You must understand that, to a large extent, we have to rely on the individual’s own common sense and desire to protect their health at all costs.”
“I see. Let me ask you this, then. Have any of your other subjects reported experiencing blackouts while taking the drug?”
Dr. Diamond rolled his chair away from the desk, stood up, and walked over to the credenza. “Now we’re heading into dangerous territory, Mr. Levy.” The doctor picked up a family photo from a ski trip taken five years before. Staring at it, he said, “Once I start talking about the results of other patients, I not only compromise their privacy, but I also compromise my study. Until the trials are over, and we have analyzed all results over the full term of the study, any evaluation is premature.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but you’re over-co
mplicating my question. I am not asking for names or an evaluation. I simply want to know if, over the course of your study, anyone has reported blacking out. Not only is my client’s health at risk, but perhaps there is more to this than simply blackouts. And let me remind you: there are felonies under investigation.”
“I understand, and I apologize. I wish I could help you more.”
“Doctor, I don’t think you fully realize where this can go. You see, if we learn independently of any serious side effects of this drug, and if you failed to either report them or stop the study when you learned of such effects, you may be held criminally liable. You could lose your license to practice medicine, and you could end up in jail. The study will be the least of your troubles.”
“Please don’t threaten me, young man. I am aware of the consequences.”
“Then perhaps you may want to reconsider, because I have a client who was found unconscious in his cell and foaming at the mouth, with no recollection of how any of it happened. Moreover, he advised me that it wasn’t his first episode.”
“That just isn’t possible, especially at the dosage he’s been prescribed.”
“Excuse me, Doctor, but my client told me that you increased his dosage the other day and put him on four pills every four hours as preventative medicine.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. I would never have done such a thing. Did he actually tell you that?”
“He told me that you gave those instructions to Detective Stone when she spoke with you.”
Dr. Diamond was incensed. “That conversation never took place. In fact, it was just the opposite. When the detective asked me if she should give Thomas his medicine, I told her to first make sure he hadn’t taken any pills in the last twelve hours and then to administer two pills—and only two pills.”
Levy’s eyes widened. “Well, then, someone is lying . . . and I have a good idea who it is. Tell me, Doctor, is it possible that an overdose such as that could cause a blackout?”
“All I will say, Counselor, is that anything is possible.”
“Thank you, sir. That will have to do for now. I need to prepare for the arraignment tomorrow. And this one will be quite interesting, to say the least.”
Everywhere That Tommy Goes Page 20
