The Near Death Experience (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 10)

by John Ellsworth

  “How long can brain dead people be kept going?”

  “There is very little research on just how long the body of a brain-dead person can be maintained. Today, with ventilators, blood pressure augmentation, and hormones, the body of a brain-dead person could, in theory, be kept functioning for a long time, perhaps indefinitely. But with time, the body of a brain-dead person becomes increasingly difficult to maintain, and the tissue is at high risk for infection. Terri Schiavo's family, who fought to keep their brain-damaged daughter on life support for fifteen years, has said Terri Schiavo was not brain dead, but in a vegetative state in which she had some brain activity. That’s a different scenario than Ms. Turkenov.”

  “That is all?”

  “That’s all I can think of that might be helpful to the jury.”

  Thaddeus started to turn away, then paused. Here it came.

  “Doctor, did you review the medical records, in particular, the brain scans, while Dr. Sewell was a patient and comatose.”

  She straightened herself in her chair and smiled over at the jury. “I did.”

  “Tell us about those brain scans.”

  “Nothing,” she said. “No brain stem activity. Dr. Sewell was legally dead for several days.”

  Thaddeus paused at the lectern, allowing it to fully settle in the juror’s minds.

  Then, “That is all,” he said.

  The witness was passed to the prosecutor for cross-examination.

  “Dr. Fields, have you been paid to testify here today?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Who paid you?”

  “Mr. Murfee.”

  “How much?”

  “I reviewed the case and agreed to come to court and testify for a flat fee of thirty-five hundred dollars.”

  “Isn’t that low?”

  “There wasn’t that much to do. Dead is dead, any way you slice it.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, Dr. Sewell was in the right, in my opinion. I would have come in and testified for nothing. That woman was dead and her kids were keeping her alive out of self-interest, I am told.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The daughter, Anastasia. The medical student. She called me and told me she wanted me to tell the truth.”

  “Why was she afraid you wouldn’t?”

  The doctor smiled before she inserted the knife.

  “No, she was afraid you would try to get me to tell something untrue. She said you had tried that with Dr. Glissando and she was calling me to warn me. Then she told me about her family and how they went for her mother’s money. She’s actually standing up for Dr. Sewell, you know.”

  Sanders flipped through page after page of medical records, saw nothing helpful through the haze of the bomb that had just exploded in his face, and abruptly sat down.

  Judge Hoover cocked his head at him. “Mr. Sanders? Were you finished?”

  “Finished, Your Honor,” said Sanders, springing to his feet. “Lost in thought there.”

  “The witness is excused, unless you had more, Mr. Murfee?”

  “Nothing further. Thank you, Dr. Fields.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  At noon, the judge excused the jury. He and the attorneys would settle jury instructions that afternoon, he told them, so their services wouldn’t be needed until nine in the morning. He reminded them to avoid news accounts of the trial, to avoid all discussions of the trial, and to let him know immediately if anyone tried to discuss the trial with them. They all nodded their assent and filed out of the courtroom.

  It took until five-thirty that day to finish up with jury instructions. Judge Hoover made it very clear: there would be no time wasted after closing arguments. The jury would get the case immediately and, based on what he had seen thus far, he didn’t expect them to be out discussing the case for too long after.

  “I’m betting one hour,” said Judge Hoover.

  The lawyers packed up and left.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Shep asked Thaddeus on the elevator when they were alone.

  “Plea negotiations?”

  Shep nodded. He had worn his Stetson hat that day and now put it on his head, smoothing his hair back with his hand as he did so. “Seems to me this case is all but over. But I’m concerned with our guy touching the patient without the treating physician’s okay. That’s assault and battery where I went to school.”

  “I hear that. So how do we work around that?”

  “Let me chew that over. I’ll get back to you, Thad, my boy.”

  54

  Thursday morning, before court, found Thaddeus with his feet up on his desk, laptop balanced precariously in his lap, reading assault and battery cases from the Arizona appellate courts. It wasn’t looking good for Dr. Sewell. No living person had given him permission to touch the unconscious Nadia Turkenov. His only permission, as he would have it, came directly from her when her consciousness asked his consciousness to set her free. But would a jury believe that? And what about the question of brain death? What if they decided she wasn’t brain dead? Might they believe that she had nonetheless in another form given Dr. Sewell permission to unplug her?

  Thaddeus smiled. He, for one, wasn’t buying it. Consciousness talking to consciousness? Not on my watch, he thought. That’s just about the last thing I’ll ever believe. Of course, there was Katy, who more and more did believe in such things. Necessity being the mother of invention, Thaddeus thought. She needs something like that to believe in, in extremis as she is. He punched the keys on his laptop again, flipping over to the next case. How on earth was he ever going to get the jury to buy into spirits talking to each other when he didn’t even believe it? Didn’t all the trial manuals and trial experts tell you that if you didn’t believe in your client’s cause the jury would know it and see right through you for the fraud you were?

  He closed his eyes and tried to still his fear—the fear that he would be found out. That he would be seen for the hypocrite that he was, selling snake oil to the citizens of the jury. He wondered, then, what he really did believe in. Did he believe he would ever see Katy again after she was gone? His eyes immediately teared over with the thought of losing her. “But she’s going, Thaddeus,” he reminded himself. “You need to make some kind of peace with that.” He listened to his whispered words and found himself looking up at the ceiling for answers. Why was it, he wondered, that people always looked up whenever they were looking for God? And why was he doing it just now? The tears ran down his face and he backhanded them away. He knew the jury would wonder at his bloodshot eyes if he kept it up, so he swallowed hard and forced himself to think of something other than Katy, something other than losing Katy.

  He touched the thin recorder in his jacket pocket. It would be triggered by the spoken voice just as soon as he switched it on. The witness today was someone he wanted Katy to hear, if only on the recording. He was going to testify about incredible things and Thaddeus was excited to record his testimony and tear home with it and play it for Katy. The kind of science Dr. Rachmanoff was going to present in the courtroom was rare and it was supported by some pretty remarkable studies and theories. If it went over with the jury, Dr. Sewell would walk out a free man and Katy could pass on knowing that the end wasn’t the end, that the end was really a beginning.

  He brushed back tears and closed his laptop. He stood up and went to the window in his office and stared out at the San Francisco Peaks, rearing up in the near north, snow-capped and certain in their place on the earth.

  One hour later, he was back in court, back at his familiar defense table, surrounded by Dr. Sewell and Shep, the jury assembled and settled in, the judge having just told Thaddeus that he could call his next witness.

  “Defense calls Louis Rachmanoff,” said Thaddeus. He reached inside his jacket and flipped the recorder into RECORD. This one’s for Katy, he thought.

  The bailiff headed up the courtroom aisle to retrieve the witness from the bench outside the
courtroom. He returned moments later, follow by a slight, bald man with a goatee. As he came closer to the jury they saw the man looked very fit and at peace. He gave the judge a slight nod and whispered, “Good morning,” and crossed to the witness stand. He had no notebook, no papers, no notes that the jury could see. They flipped open their notebooks and poised their court-issue pencils to make their notes.

  Thaddeus moved to the lectern and, without use of notes either, began with his questions.

  “State your name.”

  “Louis M. Rachmanoff, M.D.”

  “You’re a medical doctor?”

  “I am.”

  “What is your specialty?”

  “Two, actually. Anesthesiology and psychology. I teach both at the University of Southern California.”

  “Where did you go to school?”

  “Undergraduate and medical school at Harvard University. Followed by internship and residency. Board certified in anesthesiology.”

  “Doctor I have asked you to do certain things in preparation for your testimony here today. Would you tell the jury what those were?”

  “Essentially I’ve been asked to review the medical records and the narrative of Dr. Emerick Sewell and to be prepared to comment on his near-death experience and the death of Nadia Turkenov, and offer opinions.”

  “Did you make those preparations?”

  “I did.”

  “And do you have an opinion regarding Dr. Sewell’s near death experience?”

  “I do.”

  “State that opinion?”

  “Objection!” Gary Sanders swept to his feet, a firm tone in his voice. He appeared comfortable in the courtroom that day, knowing that this strange testimony was coming and that he would have all day to deride it. One thing was certain in Thaddeus’ mind: he wasn’t going to be able to run over Sanders with Dr. Rachmanoff.

  “Sustained,” said the judge. “Please lay your foundation, Mr. Murfee.”

  Unbowed, Thaddeus rolled along.

  “Doctor, what records did you review before coming here today?”

  “The medical records of Dr. Emerick Sewell from the illness that hospitalized him and rendered him comatose. That illness forms the basis for the book he wrote, which is the book Nadia Turkenov said she relied on in overdosing herself in an effort to copycat the doctor’s near death experience.”

  “What else did you review?”

  “Well, I talked to Dr. Sewell himself, at some length. We had two sessions, each lasting about three hours.”

  “Where was that done?”

  “In my office in Los Angeles.”

  “That would be the Keck School of Medicine at USC?”

  “Yes, in my office at 1975 Zonal Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90033.”

  “Who attended those two meetings?”

  “Just Dr. Sewell and myself.”

  “What if anything did you learn from those meetings?”

  “Well, let’s see. Dr. Emerick Sewell was forty-four when he woke up one morning before dawn. This occurred in his house in San Diego. He awoke with a terrible headache. And his back hurt as well. He got up, went into the bathroom, and fell off the toilet onto the Spanish tile floor. He says he lost consciousness. He finally came around and crawled back to his bed. His wife heard none of this. He pulled himself up and sat on the edge of his bed, trying to stop the room from spinning. When it wouldn’t stop, he stretched out on the bed and immediately fell back asleep.”

  “Was that it? What happened next?”

  “He was awakened forty-five minutes later with increased pain. He went back into the bathroom and vomited several times. Thinking he was coming down with the flu, he went back into his bedroom and dialed his service on his cell phone. He told his office to cancel all appointments for that day and to get cover on his cases. Then he went back to bed, where he began shivering and shaking so hard that it woke his wife up. She took his temperature and found he was burning up. Her words.”

  “Did she call anyone?”

  “Eventually, she took him to the hospital where he did most of his neurosurgeries. He was admitted. He lapsed into unconsciousness and was comatose for about six days. On the seventh—I believe it was the seventh—he regained consciousness. All faculties were intact though it was several months before his perfect speech returned. There was some speech deficit at first.”

  Thaddeus nodded and paused, allowing the jurors to make their notes. To aid in this, he went to counsel table and retrieved a glass of water, which he took back to the lectern.

  “Now, doctor. What exactly was wrong with Dr. Sewell?”

  “In laymen’s terms, he was eventually diagnosed with an infection of the tissue that covers the brain. Within hours of being admitted to the hospital, his entire cortex—the part of the brain that controls thought and emotion and that in essence makes us human—had shut down.”

  “Is this a common occurrence in humans?”

  “Extremely rare.”

  “Tell us about Dr. Sewell’s brain activity while he was unconscious.”

  “Yes, well, the neurons of his cortex were stopped, period. There was complete inactivity due to the bacteria that had attacked his brain.”

  “What happened during this time?”

  The doctor smiled. “While he was absolutely without any meaningful brain function, his consciousness journeyed to another, larger dimension of the universe.”

  Thaddeus smiled and watched the jury. Several were stopped, pencils poised, staring open-mouthed at Dr. Rachmanoff. Others were furiously making their notes. But the courtroom was silent. No one was moving. Everyone was waiting to hear what came next.

  “Doctor, is what you have described as a journey to another dimension medically possible?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Please explain.”

  The doctor nodded and made eye contact with the jury. “This is my area of study, the consciousness. My theory, called the ORCH-OR theory, believes that when we die, we remain who we are, in consciousness.”

  “That says a lot.”

  “Yes, it does,” the small doctor said. He smoothed down his goatee with two fingers. He uncrossed his legs and sat back comfortably in the witness chair.

  “Tell us about consciousness leaving the body.”

  “In my laboratory, I have studied brain neurons. Each neuron has microtubules. Here is where many of my colleagues and I believe consciousness resides.”

  “Inside the microtubules?”

  “Yes, and when death occurs, the consciousness leaves the microtubules and journeys into the universe. But the consciousness is still gathered together and connected because of entanglement.”

  “What is entanglement?”

  “It is a law of quantum mechanics that states very small things can stay connected to each other even over great distances.”

  “Now there are spiritual implications to entanglement?”

  “Yes. I’m not a religious person. But know this. At death, the microtubules give up consciousness and it dissipates into the universe but remains entangled as a soul. If there is cardiac arrest, the consciousness or soul can leave and then come back with resuscitation. This is what I believe happened to Dr. Sewell, your client.”

  “So his book is based on scientific knowledge?”

  “Objection! It’s only a theory at this point!”

  “Sustained.”

  “His book is based on scientific theory?”

  “Yes. It is one theory and entanglement is based on scientific laws. There are divergent views, of course.”

  “In your opinion, is Dr. Sewell’s book based on commonly accepted scientific laws?”

  “Yes.”

  “One last question. If Dr. Sewell says that Nadia Turkenov’s consciousness communicated with him, is that possible?”

  Dr. Rachmanoff leaned back and smiled. “It’s not impossible. There’s much about the consciousness that we don’t know. And much that we do know that some in the know are simply refusing to a
ccept.”

  “Did they communicate?” he went back at it again. He realized that he was asking as much for himself and Katy as for Nadia and Dr. Sewell. He wanted more than anything to hear this doctor say there was hope for him, hope that he would communicate with his love again.

  “Did they communicate? Why not? I would ask. Why not? Simply because you haven’t done it? It reminds me of that old song by John Denver that goes, ‘How do you know the animals don’t speak just because they haven’t spoken to you?’”

  “That is all, thank you doctor.”

  DA Sanders was immediately on his feet and crossing to the lectern.

  “Doctor, there are other explanations for near-death experiences besides yours, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “In fact, some experts believe that the so-called near death experiences are really just the brain flashing up images under great stress, correct?”

  “There is some theory something like that, yes.”

  “So isn’t it equally possible that Dr. Sewell’s brain was just starving for oxygen and it created this so-called near death experience out of thin air?”

  “No, because that would require brain activity. There was no brain activity during the six days Dr. Sewell was brain dead. All the chief arguments against near-death experiences suggest that these experiences are the results of minimal, transient, or partial malfunctioning of the cortex. Dr. Sewell’s near-death experience, however, took place not while his cortex was malfunctioning, but while it was simply off. This is clear from the severity and duration of his meningitis, and from the global cortical involvement documented by CT scans and neurological examinations. According to current medical understanding of the brain and mind, there is absolutely no way that he could have experienced even a dim and limited consciousness during his time in the coma, much less the hyper-vivid and completely coherent odyssey he underwent.”

  Again, the courtroom was soundless.

  Then Sanders began riffling through the papers he had brought to the lectern. He appeared to read from his notes or other documents. During this time the jury sat, as one, staring at Dr. Rachmanoff. Their approval of the man was evident on their faces.