Forbidden Birth

by William Rubin

  I continued my monologue. “You seem to be a leader in the field, Doctor. I know from my investigation that you are also a leader in the field of abortions, having performed the most in New York State the last three years running.”

  “So?” Dietz said with a furrowed brow and taut lips, his jet-black hair pressed against his skull and temples.

  “So…what do you do with all the aborted fetuses? Seems like a waste to just discard them. They’d be quite useful in your research.”

  “I see where you’re going with this, Detective. You’ll be pleased, or perhaps disappointed, to know as a laboratory that receives substantial federal funding, we follow all guidelines on use of aborted fetuses and acquisition and use of stem cells for research,” Dietz said with an almost sinister smile as he pushed a button on his desk. “My lab manager, Awqi Agarwal, would be happy to share the documentation confirming that with you.” Dietz rose from his desk just as a brown-skinned man appeared at Dietz's door. He waved him in and extended his hand towards the man. “Allow me to introduce you to Awqi. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to get back to. Very nice to see you again, Detective.” I nodded towards Dietz as he left his office and turned my attention to his manager.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Agarwal. I appreciate your time,” I said as I shook his cold, clammy hand.

  Chapter 54

  Kennedy reached me by cell phone as I was climbing into the Firebird, ready to leave the MMC campus.

  “I got info back from OPMC on Dietz. Seems they investigated complaints from three patients against Dietz.”

  “What kind of complaints, Kev?”

  “Sexual misconduct.” The words tumbled with a powerful thud out of Kennedy’s mouth and hung on the airwaves between us.

  “I see,” I said with cautious optimism. “What was the disposition of the cases?”

  “They were dismissed without so much as even a hearing. But my contact at OPMC, Claire Limco, said that’s not unusual, particularly on sexual misconduct cases with OB’s. It’s hard to prove the line was crossed, that a patient was molested, not just examined. Off the record, Claire thinks Dietz was guilty.”

  “Okay. We got any records to look at?”

  “Yeah. Claire’s a sweetheart, and I helped her on a few cases in NYC before she transferred up to the Albany office. We got copies faxed to us of all the records. They’re ready for your perusal, big guy.”

  “Great work, Kev. Hopefully the records will give us insight into who Dietz really is. On the surface he seems somewhat normal. But once you delve a bit deeper…he’s a strange guy.” I went on to describe Dietz’s lab office to Kennedy and the abrupt end to my conversation with the good doctor when I made the connection between aborted fetuses and stem cell research.

  “Big time weirdo, huh, Chris? He’s suspicious enough to be a leading suspect.”

  “Maybe the lead suspect, Kev. I’m coming down to the precinct now to look over the Dietz complaints. Ya got anything else for me?”

  “Funny you should ask…two malpractice cases against him—both for unnecessary abortions,” Kennedy said brightly.

  “Well now, I think we may be on to something, Detective Kennedy.”

  “I’d have to agree, Detective Ravello,” Kennedy replied with equal optimism.

  “Great work, buddy. This might be the break we’ve been looking for. See you in a few.” I flipped my phone onto the passenger’s seat next to me and spun the Firebird out of my parking space, dust and dirt kicking up all around me.

  I was on the highway heading towards NYC in two minutes flat, hoping the case was starting to move as fast as my Firebird.

  Chapter 55

  I sipped my third cup of coffee and picked at the remnants of a cold chicken parmesan sandwich left over from dinner. Papers were spread out in front of me on the small conference room table I had taken over at the precinct. Kennedy was busy making our case with ADA, Assistant District Attorney, Kiernan Byrne for getting search warrants for Dietz’s lab, office, home, and a pied à terre he had in NYC since separating three months earlier from his wife. Byrne was not happy to be discussing this on a Friday night. Guess he needed his beauty rest more than Kennedy and I did. I was sifting through the mountain of paperwork on the OPMC and malpractice complaints.

  Unlike malpractice cases, OPMC complaints were not prescreened by an attorney. Anybody, including disgruntled patients, office, or hospital workers could call up OPMC and register a formal complaint. The OPMC was then obligated to investigate each case before deciding if charges should be brought against the physician in question. Most of the time they were not.

  As a result, OPMC cases varied a great deal in the seriousness and validity of their accusations. These complaints against Dietz were no different. One of the patients alleging sexual misconduct was a sixteen-year-old pregnant Hispanic girl, Luisa Lopez. During the examination in question, Nurse Halloway was present the entire time and noted no unusual behavior on Dietz’s part. It later came out that the girl was molested and impregnated by her uncle, who had in fact raped her again the morning of the exam. Fearing retribution from her uncle, Luisa claimed Dietz was the one who raped her.

  The second complaint against Dietz also involved a young unmarried woman. Becky Corrigan was a twenty-three-year-old waitress who lived and worked right in downtown Valhalla. During a Pap smear Corrigan claimed Dietz fondled her genitalia and anal region. Nurse Halloway was also present during this patient encounter, and noted no unusual activity except the fact that she did leave for a few minutes in the midst of the exam, when Dietz needed more instruments to proceed with an unanticipated cervical biopsy.

  The third complaint involved an unwed, forty-two-year-old woman who Dietz had treated for several years before the alleged misconduct. Dietz had performed elective abortions for her on two prior occasions. The woman, who did not use any form of contraception on a regular basis, was consulting with Dietz for a third elective abortion. Nurse Halloway wrote in Amy Piscano’s chart that Dietz discussed abortion with her as well as the various methods of contraception, including tubal ligation. Piscano dismissed all contraceptive discussion and requested an immediate abortion for her six-week-old fetus. Dietz, with Halloway’s assistance, performed the abortion for the woman. Later Piscano claimed Dietz molested her, entering her with his penis, while Halloway assured her “everything is all right, dear, you’re doing fine.”

  An independent OB/GYN expert hired by OPMC cited Dietz for violating professional protocol in the Corrigan case by continuing a procedure without a chaperone present. He also recommended Dietz utilize more than one nurse as a chaperone to decrease the chances any future complainant could claim conspiracy between the doctor and his nurse. The expert, James Sedor, stopped short of stating Dietz had violated any accepted standards of care. That opinion led to OPMC dropping the cases.

  As for the lawsuits against Dietz, they also proved unsuccessful. The first plaintiff, an eighteen-year-old high school dropout named Kim Kelly, claimed Dietz forced her to sign consent for an abortion. Kelly claimed Dietz said “the prospects for a bastard child born to a poor, uneducated woman were bleak and that the baby should either be put up for adoption or terminated in vivo.” Kelly followed the advice but regretted it several months later, at which time she filed suit. The case was moving forward with Kelly’s deposition fast approaching when she was found hanged in her apartment with a suicide note that among other things “absolved Dietz of any wrongdoing” and claimed the charges were “fabricated in an attempt to cash in with a big lawsuit.”

  The second plaintiff, Ann Archenwald, freely gave consent for an abortion on the grounds that a recent ultrasound demonstrated “classic mongoloid features consistent with a Down’s Syndrome baby.” Archenwald elected to skip amniocentesis to avoid delay in “getting this freak out of me.” She underwent abortion the next day without consulting family, friends, or her significant other. Pressured by her common law husband when he found out about the abortion, Archenwald
requested and received a post-mortem genetic analysis of the baby. The results were normal—she had aborted a perfectly healthy fifteen-week-old baby boy! OB/GYN experts for the plaintiff and defense had argued over whether the ultrasound printout did in fact suggest a Down’s baby. In the absence of a consensus opinion, the jury ruled in favor of Dietz. In an interview after the trial, the jury’s foreman, an attorney himself, cited “Dietz’s successful counseling of the patient regarding the presumed diagnosis and how to confirm its accuracy, and the patient’s steadfast insistence on proceeding with abortion without delay.”

  Awqi Agarwal, Dietz's lab manager, had proved helpful. The odd little man scurried around his office like a Tasmanian devil, showing me documentation on how the lab acquired fetuses and stem cells to do research. Awqi had long, floppy ears and was about five feet one inch tall. He reminded me of the Jedi Master, Yoda, from the Star Wars saga. While scurrying about, Awqi filled me in on his life story. Four years earlier Dietz had been instrumental in getting Awqi out of a very difficult situation in Pakistan. It was no surprise to me that Agarwal had nothing but praise for Dietz now.

  It had been a long, fruitless day. Our only progress to report was that everything on Dietz was checking out fine. I put down the last of the paperwork and rubbed my tired, painful eyes with both fists before taking another swig of my coffee. My earlier elation and optimism with Kennedy were now distant, cloudy memories, replaced by the reality of yet more dead ends in this baffling case. I gritted my teeth and stared hard at the paperwork in front of me, wondering where we’d go from here. My cell phone cut through my thoughts, answering the question for me.

  “Chris, it’s Kev. You’re not gonna like this, boss man,” Kennedy said with a mixture of sarcasm and restraint.

  “What’s up, Kev?” I said with a sigh, unprepared and unwilling to accept any more setbacks in the case.

  “Psycho’s struck again! There’re two more mutilated bodies, this time under the Williamsburg Bridge.…”

  “Shit! What the f—,” I said angrily.

  “—and Chris, here’s the kicker. Missing Persons just told me, we’ve got another report of a young pregnant woman, Elizabeth Mueller. She’s been gone for forty-eight hours already.”

  Silence followed. I was out of words or thoughts at this point. My mind and body were numb, useless.

  “Chris? You still there?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m here, Kev. I’ll see you at the scene in a few minutes,” I said despondently as I slammed the phone down on the conference room table.

  My heart was pounding as adrenaline surged through my body. Intensity transformed into rage within me. I felt my self-control slipping away as a tremor began to build in my hands, working its way up my arms. I began to sweat profusely, soaking my shirt through and through, as an intense headache started behind my right eye and quickly spread across my skull. Thank God no one was near me at that point, because I have no idea how I might have lashed out. That hadn’t happened in many, many years, but no matter. It was as if my last severe attack was yesterday. Or a few minutes ago. I was completely out of control.

  I gripped the edge of the conference table with both hands. It felt as if it was about to splinter under my grasp. I struggled for control, pleading with God to grant it to me. I could not afford to lose it now, to let so many years of fine behavior be shattered in one moment of weakness. If someone walked in on me now my secret would be out and I’d lose my job for sure. I had put my family through a helluva lot recently; I couldn’t add the shame of being fired by the NYPD to it. I held myself steady for a few minutes, frustrated and tired as all hell. In time I regained control. My breathing quieted, my grip on the table loosened. The sweating, headache, and tremors faded.

  The moment had passed and I had held it together.

  I headed out to the scene, relieved, but somber. This case was getting worse by the minute—and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing I could do about it.

  Chapter 56

  The two bodies lay posed by the base of the Williamsburg Bridge.

  “This is just how we found them, Chris,” Kennedy said to me.

  One body was heaped on the other, each victim’s head buried in the other’s mutilated crotch.

  “He’s taunting us now, the sick fuck,” I said to Kennedy as I knelt beside the bodies for a closer look. A couple of rats scurried around to avoid the beam from my flashlight as I swung it over the area. The night air was ominous with a slight chill. The victims lay on rocks, their expensive, designer clothes now drenched in blood and torn. Two members of CSU were waiting a few feet away, ready to begin their work as soon as I finished mine. They’d have to wait a little longer.

  “The pattern of mutilation is consistent with the Cassidy, Lin, and Ingi deaths,” I said in an even tone that was devoid of emotion. Inside of me, rage and helplessness pounded away, struggling to break through to the surface. “Beyond that, it’s hard to tell if the cause of death is the same or if they were pregnant—we’ll have to wait for McGowan’s report.”

  “She’s been notified and ought to be here in a few minutes. We’ll have the report, minus the toxicology and Boxin test results, back by mid-afternoon, I’d guess.”

  My temples throbbed and ached as I stared at the bodies. I rose from my crouched position.

  “Any ID’s on or near the scene, Kev?”

  “Nah, but Gorelick in Missing Persons is already sifting the database for an ID on these two. Nothing yet though,” Kennedy said wearily.

  “Didn’t expect there would be. We’ll have to work hard before we’re able to ID these ladies.” I mulled over the significance of a change in pattern or presentation by our psycho killer. I suspected this was part of the new taunting phase this sicko had moved onto. I didn’t yet know what it meant, beyond it being another perplexing twist in an already strange case. “Let’s get 24/7 surveillance on Dietz and step up getting search warrants on his home, office, lab, and the apartment he keeps in the city.”

  “You got it, Chris. The warrants ought to be easier to get after this, even with it being the weekend,” Kennedy said as he shook his head from side to side. “I’ll check the surveillance on Buehler and Briganti and see what they’ve been up to too.”

  Those warrants unfortunately were the only thing that had just gotten easier about the case. The rest of it felt like we were trapped in a hurricane—one that I feared was gathering momentum and poised to careen out of control.

  Chapter 57

  “Ravello, Commish wants to see you,” Kelly’s assistant, Maximillion Stepolopulus, said as he leaned over me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

  “What I’d do now, money man?” I said in mock surprise. Max, a.k.a. money man, maxi pad, or MM for short, was an easy-going, burly Greek in his mid-fifties who took our kidding good-naturedly. He also knew how to dish it out.

  “Dunno, Guinea head. Maybe he’s looking for a restaurant recommendation or the inside track on some fresh prosciutto.”

  “Good one, MM. I knew reports of your impending senility were greatly exaggerated.” I rose from my chair and turned around, looking Max in the eyes. “Let’s see what Kelly wants,” I said as I started towards his office.

  Stepolopulus put an open palmed hand in front of me. “He’s not in his office, he’s in the O’Toole conference room,” Max said as he pointed down the hall.

  “Uh-oh. That’s never good news,” I said flippantly, trying to mask the tension that was building in me. I walked down the hall and paused at the conference room door before walking in.

  Across the room, at the far end of the conference room table, Commissioner Kelly, Mayor Blumenthal, and Governor Spatick were having an animated discussion. Spatick broke away from the conversation.

  “Detective Ravello, please join us,” Spatick said as he extended his hand towards a chair near his and the others.

  “Thank you, sir,” I replied as I strode across the long room, my self-consciousness growing with each step. As I sat down
, Commissioner Kelly made some opening remarks.

  “As you know, Governor, Chris is the best and brightest detective to come through the department in a long time—perhaps ever. I’d like to hear Detective Ravello’s update on the case before we jump to conclusions on how the investigation is going.”

  Mayor Blumenthal chimed in, “That sounds like a reasonable approach, Commiss— ”

  “—We don’t have time for a reasonable approach, gentlemen,” Spatick retorted. “We have two more victims, both with close ties to very influential families and no progress evident in the case.”

  “What would you have us do, sir?” Kelly replied warily as he ran a hand through his short, dirty-blond hair.

  “We need an arrest in this case! According to all the reports I’ve read and what Agent King said a few minutes ago, Dietz is the lead suspect. Arrest him! We need closure in this case,” Spatick said hotly.

  Kelly stared at Spatick, his light blue eyes boring a hole through the vapid governor’s skull. A short, stocky Irishman from the rough and tumble Coney Island section of Brooklyn, Kelly was losing the battle to keep his emotions in check. His rage was just about to spill over.

  “If I might interject,” I said, hoping to defuse the situation. “With all due respect, I believe an arrest of Doctor Dietz at this point is premature. We have yet to search his lab, private practice, or home. We don’t have the evidence to make charges stick. Dietz does seem the most likely suspect but we haven’t totally ruled out our three other suspects, either.”

  “Tell that to the Newdern and Ferkarian families, Detective. The women who died were surrogates for Abby Newdern and Jennifer Ferkarian. They were each expected to deliver healthy baby boys for the two families in a matter of weeks. Those boys would have been the eventual successors to the Newdern Media Empire and the Ferkarian Investment house. We cannot afford to wait any longer. An arrest must be made today! Bring in Dietz—now!”