An Accidental Life (30 page)

But she kept going. Glory Lynn told how she’d returned to the clinic the next day, again alone. “I was nervous that day. Crying. There was a different nurse this time. Nurse Broussard. She told me there wouldn’t be much pain.”

“And, what happened then?”

“Nurse Broussard inserted lamanaria to start the procedure. She said it would all be over in about twenty-four hours or so.”

“Lamanaria?”

She flushed. “Small pieces of kelp that induce labor. She looked down. “That first part didn’t take long at all.”

“And what happened next?”

“I was told to go home. That I shouldn’t feel much pain, maybe mild cramps or something. And to take a Tylenol if I needed that. I was to come back the next afternoon. My appointment was for four o’clock on the next day. They said I’d be there for a few hours afterward.”

“And did you have any problems after going home that evening?”

“Not at first. I woke early in the morning feeling mild cramps. About six o’clock in the morning. So I took a couple Tylenol and went back to sleep.” She clasped her hands together, twisting them. “But later on, about ten, I began feeling more pain.”

“Did you call the clinic then?”

“No. I waited as long as I could. Took some more Tylenol. But finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore.” She looked into Peter’s eyes. “They’d said the pain wouldn’t be that bad. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“So what did you do then?”

“I took a cab to the clinic.”

“And tell the court what happened when you arrived.”

“I went into a room. There were other girls there, most of them younger than me. We all sat in a row. No one was talking. Some had brought books to read. Some of the girls were called while I waited, and I remember . . . I was very frightened.”

“And how long did you have to wait?”

“A couple hours, maybe more. The cramps had grown worse and I asked the nurse for another Tylenol and she gave me one, and I was shaking so she gave me a valium.”

“Which nurse gave you the valium?”

She straightened and looked at him. “Nurse Sonsten.”

“Do you know how many milligrams?”

“Five.” She hesitated. “And then the pain got worse, and Nurse Sonsten called Miss Broussard—Nurse Broussard—and she removed the laminaria. Then they gave me another valium . . .”

“Please tell the court, how much valium you received this time.”

“Five milligrams again.”

“And then what happened?”

“The nurses helped me out of the bed and took me into another room and helped me up onto that table.” She twisted her hands, looking at Peter now. “Nurse Broussard seemed worried and kept asking where the doctor was, and Nurse Sonsten went out to look for him.”

“Nurse Broussard seemed worried?” He asked the question in a tone of surprise, and turned so that he could see both the defense table and the galley.

“She sounded worried, or maybe surprised. She said things were moving fast. And when Dr. Vicari arrived, she told him to hurry.”

“Do you know what time that was?”

“No. I’d lost track. Couldn’t think.” Tears ran down her cheeks now. He wished that he could reach out and hold onto her hand, but all he could do was turn to the bailiff and ask for Kleenex. She wiped her cheeks with the heel of her hand, and when the bailiff brought the box over, she pulled out a tissue and patted her face.

“Please continue. What happened then?”

“It all happened so fast,” she said. Wringing the tissue in her hands, she looked up at the judge, then back to Peter. “I, I . . .” Her eyes swung to the Defendant and she lifted her arms, flailing as her voice rose. “I could see that things weren’t right, that things were happening too fast. Everything seemed so far away and I could hear the nurse talking to him, and—”

Peter broke in, moving toward her. “By him, do you mean Dr. Vicari?”

“Yes, yes. Dr. Vicari.” Her eyes darted to the defendant and away. Then she looked out over the courtroom, and he knew that she saw no one in the gallery. She was watching herself on that long afternoon. “Suddenly, I felt it . . . the baby . . . I felt it slip through me and out . . .” Her voice broke.

“Just like that,” she cried, swinging her eyes from one side of the room to the other. “There wasn’t any pain then, not really. It just slid out.” And she lifted her hands, cupping them, as if she could feel it. “I could tell that something was wrong . . . I could tell from the nurse’s voice, and then Dr. Vicari pushed her aside, and then I heard the cry!”

Peter walked to her side. Stuck his hands in his pockets and looked across at the defendant. “You heard the infant’s cry?”

“Yes. Yes!”

The room was silent as a stone as Glory Lynn bent forward, sobbing.

Peter looked at the judge. “May we take a break, Your Honor?”

The judge’s face was creased, strained. He gave a brief nod and looked out at the spectators. “Court will recess for fifteen minutes.”

Dooney took Glory Lynn to the ladies room down the hallway and waited for her there. Peter returned to his seat at the prosecution table. He wished that there was some way he could help Glory Lynn with the guilt and remorse that she’d bottled up inside. Anger tightened in his chest as he thought of what Vince McConnell would likely do on cross-examination.
Please God, help her take some of the steam out of Vince McConnell’s engine. Please protect this child.

34

Glory Lynn Chasson was back on
the witness stand. Peter stood at the prosecution table. Judge Morrow leaned back in his chair, hands crossed and resting on his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Read the witness’s last two answers back, please,” Peter said to Michelene.

Michelene looked down at the tape and read, her voice devoid of emotion:

Answer: “There wasn’t any pain then, not really. It just slid out. I could tell that something was wrong . . . I could tell from the nurse’s voice, and then Dr. Vicari pushed her aside, and then I heard the cry!”

Question: “You heard the infant’s cry?”

Answer: “Yes. Yes!”

Michelene looked up.

“Thank you,” Peter said. He strolled around the table toward the jury box, stopping about ten feet before reaching Glory Lynn.

“Now, Miss Chasson.”

Glory Lynn stared at him, eyes wide, hands settled on her lap.

“You say you heard the infant cry?”

“Yes.” She pushed back her hair. “Twice.”

“You’ve just testified about the first time. When did you hear the second cry?”

“Well, the first time took a few seconds, maybe half a minute, to register, I guess. And then, when I realized what I’d heard I think I screamed . . . I screamed, and all I could think of then was to get to my baby, to hold my baby, and Nurse Broussard was holding me down, pushing me back down, and Dr. Vicari was saying something, and someone else came in, Nurse Sonsten came in, and that’s when I heard the second cry and it just cut right through my . . . heart.”

She choked on the last words, ducking her head. “All I could think of was getting to my baby.”

“And tell us, then what happened?”

“It’s all so confusing and hard to remember.” She hesitated, looking at Peter, hanging onto his eyes, and he felt that if he moved one fraction of an inch, Glory Lynn Chasson would collapse.

“I . . . I was trying to tell Nurse Broussard that I wanted my baby, trying to make her
understand
. . .” She curled her hands into fists, pressing them together as she lifted them, pumping them with the cadence of her words. “I was fighting her, trying to make her understand, trying to make Dr. Vicari understand, and she was telling me to lie back down, to lie back down.”

The courtroom was silent. Glory Lynn slowly dropped her hands, and leaned forward gripping the partition.

This was the moment. Peter worked to keep his voice steady, and soothing. “What was it that you wanted Dr. Vicari and Miss Broussard to understand?” He held her eyes and prayed that Judge Morrow would take this in and sympathize with Glory Lynn.

“I wanted my baby.” Her tone was fierce as she looked at Peter. “I didn’t want anyone to hurt my baby.”

“But hadn’t you come to the clinic especially for an abortion?”

“Yes. But everything changed when I heard him cry! That made everything different. My baby was alive, and I wanted him to live.”

Seconds passed. Glory Lynn slumped in the chair and looked out over the courtroom.

Peter’s voice turned gentle. “What do you remember next?”

Slowly she shook her head from side to side. Glory Lynn’s voice dropped a key. “I was fighting and no one would pay attention. I remember the nurse pushing me down on the bed, and . . . and then . . . the lights overhead seemed to spin and I just felt so tired, and I think I must have closed my eyes, because that’s all I can remember.” She choked back a sob. “Just those lights.”

She looked at Dooney, then at Peter. “And then I woke up in a different room and everything was over. They told me that I’d done fine; that I could go home.”

“Who told you that?”

“Miss Broussard.”

“Did you see Nurse Sonstein after that?”

“No.” She hesitated. “Miss Broussard, Nurse Broussard drove me home.”

“All right. Just a few more questions.” Peter moved closer.

She looked up.

“When you first went to the clinic and signed forms consenting to the abortion procedure, was it ever your understanding that if the infant was born alive that medical assistance would be withheld from the child because of that consent?”

“No. Of course not. I never thought of—”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Vince was on his feet. “The question assumes evidence not of record, that the infant was viable, and that medical assistance was necessary and withheld.”

Peter walked to the bench. “Respectfully, Your Honor—”

Judge Morrow threw up his hands. “Objection sustained.”

“I’ll rephrase the question,” Peter said.

Peter walked back to the center of the well and looked at Glory Lynn. “Miss Chasson, let me put the question this way.” He folded his arms and looked up, searching for words. “When you signed the consent forms at Alpha Women’s Medical Clinic prior to the abortion procedure, was it your understanding that there was any possibility that the infant could be born alive in any manner of speaking?”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“And I will never forget the sound of that cry. Never.”

“Objection.”

“The witness will answer only questions asked,” Judge Morrow said. He looked at Michelene. “Strike the witness’s last statement from the record.”

But Peter knew that Calvin Morrow would remember the sound of those agonizing words. He turned to the bench, and said, “No more questions for this witness, Your Honor.”

Morrow nodded and beckoned to his clerk. “We’ll take a fifteen-minute break, Counsel.” He looked at Vince McConnell. “You’ll take the witness on cross when we return.”

“All rise,” the bailiff called. Judge Morrow rose, and disappeared through the door behind the bench.

Dooney asked Glory Lynn if she’d like to go to a private witness room to wait during the short recess. Glory Lynn said no, she just wanted to be left alone for a while. She would wait in the chair on the witness stand.

When Doony returned, Peter glanced up at her. “Clara Sonsten’s on next. Make certain Shauna and Clara are here, please.”

“Sure.” Dooney rose and headed toward the room where the prosecution witnesses would wait prior to being called.

A few minutes later, Dooney pushed through the gate to his right.

“They’re not here.” She sounded breathless

Peter looked up, frowning. “Shauna and Clara?”

“Right.” Dooney brushed hair back from her forehead. “They’re not here, Peter. I phoned the office. Molly says she hasn’t heard from them.”

“Great,” Peter muttered. He blew out his cheeks, thinking. Behind Dooney he saw Vince McConnell coming down the aisle.

Glancing at his watch, Peter gazed over the courtroom, lowering his voice. “I don’t know how long Vince will take on cross with Glory Lynn, but we’ve got to have a stand-in, someone else for the rest of the afternoon. Calvin Morrow will go ballistic if we’re not ready. See if you can find Mac, will you? If he’s not in his office, have him paged. And find out how long it’ll take him to get here.” He glanced back at the empty bench.

“And hurry. If we don’t have someone lined up when Vince is finished, Morrow will eat us alive.”

35

Court was back in session. Judge
Morrow held up his pen and pointed it toward Vince McConnell.

“Counsel,” he said. “Your witness.”

Vince picked up a manila file folder, stood and walked to the lectern, Without looking at the witness, he opened the file—taking his time—running his eyes down the first page before closing it again. Then he strode toward the witness stand where he stood ten feet away, arms behind his back, hands clasped, looking at Glory Lynn.

“Miss Chasson. My name is Vince O’Connell, and as you know, I’m counsel for Dr. Charles Vicari.”

Glory Lynn looked at him and nodded. “I know.”

“Something’s been puzzling me since I heard your testimony earlier.” He paused, studying Glory Lynn. “You came to the Alpha Women’s Clinic of your own accord, did you not?”