Death Rattle
Page 22
She began by getting Jared to walk the jury through events the day Carmen had died.
“You started your shift on the twenty-second of April at four in the afternoon. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And it was a fourteen-hour shift?”
“Yes.”
“Do you normally do the night shift?”
“It’s a rotation. Sometimes we do nights, sometimes days.”
“Thank you, sir. But according to your deposition, you actually requested to be rostered with your uncle, Jim Davies, on the night of April 22. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you and your uncle request to work that night?”
“You work nights, you get night-shift pay. I needed the extra money.”
“Prior to the night of April 22, had you ever requested to be rostered on with your uncle?”
“No.”
“And have you ever since?”
“No.”
“Not once?”
“Objection! Asked and answered, Your Honor.”
“Objection sustained.”
“Mr. Davies, why did you request to be rostered with your uncle that night?”
Jared Davies looked uncomfortable. “Jim’s a good talker. Fourteen hours is a long time. It’s good to have someone to converse with.”
“Mr. Davies, was there any matter in particular that you wished to discuss with your uncle on the evening of April 22?”
“Objection! Irrelevant.”
“Sustained.”
“Do you see much of your uncle outside of work, Mr. Davies?”
Scott leaped up with surprising speed for a man of his girth. “Objection! Your Honor, this question is immaterial to the matter under consideration here.”
“Objection sustained. Cut to the chase, Ms. Jimenez.”
Mona turned back to Jared. She glanced at the jury. She was pleased to see a few puzzled faces. Even if they did know the Davies family, she had planted a seed of an idea. She shifted tack.
“Mr. Davies, is it true that your position as prison guard at Paradise Detention Center is your first job?”
“Objection. Inflammatory and irrelevant.”
“Sustained.”
“Mr. Davies, you stated in your deposition that prior to beginning at Paradise Detention Center, you were looking for work. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“You stated that you applied for the job after your uncle informed you that the BSCA was recruiting. Is that correct?”
“Yes. Uncle Jim told me.”
“You said in your deposition that you underwent training for your job. You said that your training did not include any first-aid training. Is that correct?”
“Yes. No.”
“Mr. Davies?”
“I mean, we were told in a medical-type situation to call the infirmary. They said we had to wait for the nurse or doctor to come.”
“So you were not trained in any first-response actions?”
“No.”
“You weren’t told to check if the person was breathing?”
“No. They told us not to touch the prisoners.”
“Even in a medical emergency?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Mr. Davies. Mr. Davies, you said that on the evening of April 22, you and your uncle began by doing a head count. Is that right?”
“Yes. We do five head counts a day.”
“And this was the fourth one for that day, April 22, is that right?”
“It was the first one we did, but yes, it was the fourth count of the day. The inmates were coming in from the yard for dinner.”
“And when you did the head count, you found you were one short?”
“Yes.”
“And that was when you went out into the yard?”
“Yes.”
“And you saw Ms. Vega lying on this bench?”
“Yes.”
Mona put up a plan of the yard on the projector. The bench in question had a circle around it. It was the farthest away from the doors that led into the canteen.
“Was the bench visible from the doors to the canteen where you did the head count?”
“No. On account of the tent in the yard.”
“You mean the tent that was erected to accommodate the extra migrants? That tent blocked your view of the bench where Ms. Vega was?”
“Yes.”
“So you had to walk around the tent?”
“Yes.”
“You stated in your deposition that you believed she might be sleeping. Is that right?”
“Yes. Sometimes they sleep out there. They don’t sleep so well in the cells, sometimes.”
“I’m sure. What happened next, Mr. Davies?”
“We went over to the inmate. Jim spoke to her.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Get up.’”
“Did Ms. Vega respond?”
“No. Then we noticed that she didn’t look right.”
“In your deposition, you said her head looked like it was twisted too far. Like it would not be comfortable to lie like that. Do you still remember it that way?”
“Objection!” said Scott. “Leading the witness.”
“Sustained.”
“Mr. Davies, at what point did you realize that Ms. Vega was unconscious?”
“When she didn’t respond to Jim.”
“Mr. Davies, did either you or your uncle check whether Carmen needed help?”
“Objection! Inflammatory.”
“Sustained.”
“Mr. Davies, do you know what you’re supposed to do if someone has been bitten by a snake?”
He scratched his head. “Suck out the venom and spit it out?”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
* * *
After Mona sat down, Scott stood. If he’d been wearing suspenders, he would’ve hooked his thumbs under them.
“Mr. Davies, your family’s been in Paradise a long time, hasn’t it? Your great-grandpa came out before the Second World War?”
“That’s right.”
“How would you describe the atmosphere in Paradise before the detention center opened?”
Mona got up and stamped a crutch on the floor. “Objection! Your Honor, this is opinion, not evidence.”
“Overruled. Sit down.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Scott with a look of forbearance. “Mr. Davies?”
“Well, we were all pretty worried, on account of the water drying up.”
“And you yourself, you were considering leaving town, is that correct?”
“I heard they needed people in the orchards outside Bakersfield.”
“Even though your family’s been here for almost a hundred years, you felt obliged to leave?”
“When there’s no water, there’s no work. At least, it used to be that way.”
“Mr. Davies, when the Border Security Corporation of America announced it was opening a 500-bed detention center that would employ fifty people, how would you characterize the reaction of people in Paradise?”
“Relief.”
“Would it be fair to characterize it as a lifeline, Mr. Davies?”
Mona hauled herself up on her crutches. “Objection. Leading the witness.”
“Overruled.”
“A lifeline is a good way of telling it,” said Jared Davies.
“Thank you, Mr. Davies. Now Mr. Davies, I want to bring your attention to your work at Paradise Detention Center.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Davies, apart from the defense, I believe you are the only person in this courtroom who knew the deceased. I think I’m right in saying that. Do you recognize her in this photo?”
On the projector, Scott put up the photo that Mona had showed during her opening statement, the one that Maria Elena had given her.
What’s he doing? thought Mona.
“Sure, I recognize her, but that’s an old
photo. She didn’t look like that by the time I knew her.”
“How does she look to you in this photo, Mr. Davies?”
“Innocent.”
“And when you knew her?”
“More grown-up, I guess.”
“Like this?” said Scott. He put up another photo. It was the photo from Carmen’s Facebook page—the one showing her on a beach, in a bikini, her breasts pushed out, her arm around a much-older man, a smile on her face.
“Yeah, like that,” said Jared.
Mona saw the looks of disapproval on the faces of the jurors. Especially the women.
“Objection! Your Honor, this is an outrage—”
“Overruled! Sit down, Ms. Jimenez.”
Scott carried on. “Mr. Davies, you said under oath that when you found Ms. Vega on the bench, you believed she had nodded off. You believed she was under the influence of drugs. Is that right?”
“That’s what me and Jim thought first, yes.”
“Mr. Davies, can you tell me why you thought that?”
“Well, some of the inmates take drugs.”
“Do you mean to say that they can get drugs inside the detention center?”
“That’s right.”
“Goodness. And how do they do that, Mr. Davies?”
“Well, we try to stop it, obviously. But sometimes their family members or friends visit and smuggle things in for them. And sometimes the women offer things in return for drugs.”
“What things, Mr. Davies?”
“Favors.”
“You mean, the women offer sexual favors? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I guess so, yes.”
Scott pointed at the photo of Carmen on the projector. “Mr. Davies, to your knowledge, did Ms. Vega ever do such a thing?”
“Well, not to me personally, obviously. But I heard rumors. She was pretty messed up sometimes.”
“Objection! Hearsay.”
The judge could hardly overrule her. Jared Davies had actually used the word rumors.
And yet he did. Mona couldn’t believe it.
“Overruled.”
Joaquin wrote in big letters on her yellow legal pad: WTF? What is going on?
Mona wrote, Welcome to Paradise.
Morrison Scott continued, “Messed up?”
“Acting crazy, like she had taken a bad trip. I remember one morning in the canteen, she said snakes were crawling over her in her sleep. She went crazy over it. Dropped her tray.”
“I see. And did you report this?”
“No.”
“Why not, Mr. Davies?”
“I felt bad for her, on account of the scars she had. I didn’t want her to get in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“For taking drugs. And for, you know, the other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“That other thing you said. Offering favors.”
“Soliciting?”
“Soliciting. That’s it.”
Mona processed what she was witnessing. She was looking at three men annihilating the reputation of a young woman who had already been literally annihilated. The attorney asking the leading questions, the witness playing along, the judge turning a blind eye. The trinity of male privilege: the stern patriarch, the condescending uncle, the entitled young buck. The three of them trampling all over the reputation of a dead woman, with no one to defend her but Mona.
“Objection,” she said.
“Again, Ms. Jimenez? On what grounds?” said the judge.
Mona shrugged. What did it matter? He would overrule her no matter what. This trial was a farce.
“Speculation. Is the witness saying he knows Ms. Vega was soliciting? Is he saying he knows she was taking drugs?”
“He’s your witness, Counsel,” said the judge slowly. “Overruled.”
THIRTY-THREE
AFTER Scott finished cross-examining the guards, Mona expected the judge to adjourn. It was the third of July, and she expected that he would send everyone home for the holiday. But instead, he asked her to call her next witness.
Mona called Dr. Woods. After he was sworn in, she gave him a long, hard stare. Here we go, she thought.
“Dr. Woods, how long have you been working at the Paradise Detention Center?”
“Since it opened.”
“And where were you before that?”
“At the San Clemente Detention Center, in West Texas.”
“That’s another BSCA institution, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“How long have you been on the BSCA payroll, Dr. Woods?”
“Since 2005.”
“You earned your medical degree from the University of Oklahoma. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And when did you graduate from medical school?”
“2005.”
“Thank you. Can you tell the court what your role is at PDC?”
“I’m the chief medical officer. I’m responsible for the health and well-being of all our inmates.”
“How many inmates are currently in your care, Dr. Woods?”
“Seven hundred.”
“And how many doctors do you have on your team?”
Dr. Woods hesitated. “Well, it’s just me. But I have two full-time nurses, plus two more part-time.”
“One doctor for seven hundred patients. Is that the ratio recommended by the BSCA, Dr. Woods?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve worked for the BSCA since 2005. For your entire career, in fact. Can you recall any other situation, working for the BSCA, with that doctor-to-patient ratio?”
“Well, you know, there’s been a surge at the border. That’s why we’re over capacity. PDC was built for 500 people.”
“So PDC is significantly over capacity?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay. In your opinion as a medical professional, Doctor, do you believe one doctor is enough to look after seven hundred people?”
“Well, as I said, we’re over capacity…”
“Please answer the question, Dr. Woods.”
“It’s not optimal, no.”
“So you don’t believe one doctor is enough for seven hundred patients?”
“Objection! Asked and answered,” said Scott.
“Sustained,” said Judge Ross.
“Have you asked the BSCA to recruit more doctors, sir?” said Mona.
“No,” said Dr. Woods.
Mona left the answer hanging.
“Can you tell the court what you were doing when you first heard that an inmate was unwell on April 22?”
“I was at home, having dinner.”
“Do you live alone, sir?”
Scott stood. “Objection! Immaterial.”
“Sustained.”
Mona continued, “Dr. Woods, can you tell the court what happened on the night Carmen died.”
“My cell rang. It was Gemma, the duty nurse. She told me that they’d found an inmate unconscious.”
“Did she say which inmate?”
“Yes. She said it was Carmen Vega.”
“Thank you, Dr. Woods. Can you tell us what you said?”
“Yes. I asked the nurse if Carmen was breathing, and she said yes. I told her that I’d be right out.”
“Okay. According to the PDC’s call log, a call was placed to your cell from the infirmary at 6:14 P.M. Does that sound about the right time?”
“I guess so.”
“You’re not sure?”
“It sounds right. I didn’t note the time.”
“Okay. Let the record show that only one call was made to Dr. Woods’s cell phone from Paradise Detention Center on April 22, at 6:14 P.M. Dr. Woods, according to the entry log, you scanned yourself into the center, using the fingerprint scanner, at 7:04 P.M.”
Dr. Woods didn’t say anything.
“Why did it take you fifty minutes to reach an unconscious patient, Dr. Woods?”
“Wel
l, I live in town.”
“In Paradise, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a ten-minute drive from Paradise to PDC, Dr. Woods.”
“I felt that the situation was in hand.”
“‘In hand’? Dr. Woods, your patient was unconscious. She died.”
“I realize that. But I didn’t know that at the time, did I? She was breathing.”
“You didn’t think that the situation was critical?”
“I didn’t know she’d been bitten by a snake. No one did. Not the nurse, not the guards. Everyone thought she had nodded off. I figured by the time I got there, she’d have come to. When I saw that she hadn’t, I gave her a shot of epinephrine. When that didn’t work, I called nine-one-one.”
“Dr. Woods, to your knowledge, had Carmen Vega nodded off before?”
“No.”
“Had you treated Carmen Vega before, Dr. Woods?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Well, that’s confidential.”
“Carmen Vega is dead, sir. We are here to determine whether she died because of negligence. You can tell us what she needed treatment for.”
Dr. Woods looked at the judge for direction. The judge gave a little nod.
“Okay. Well, she had severe chemical burns that caused her pain.”
“How severe?”
“It’s hard to…”
“Dr. Woods, on a scale of one to ten, how bad were Carmen’s burns?”
“They were the worst I’d ever seen.”
“Thank you, Dr. Woods,” said Mona. “And Carmen came to you complaining about pain?”
“Yes. She said she had severe pain around her torso and that it hurt to breathe.”
“And that was because of the acid burns?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Dr. Woods. Dr. Woods, can you describe Carmen’s burns to the court?”
Scott stood up. “Objection! Immaterial.”
Mona saw Judge Ross hesitate. The jury, it was clear to everybody, wanted to hear what the doctor had to say.
“I’ll allow it, so long as the doctor limits himself to the victim’s medical condition on the night she died. We don’t need her full medical history, Doctor, as tragic as it may be.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Mona. “Dr. Woods?”
“They were severe.”