An Accidental Life (34 page)

“Why did you do that, Miss Sonsten?”

“I didn’t want him to be alone. Or cold.” She leaned forward, clenching her hands on top of the partition. “He was alive . . .” She put her fingers over her mouth and looked at the judge, then back to Peter.

“He was breathing, shallow little breathes, he was fighting for air. I could see his heart beating through his chest wall. When I put my hand on his chest, I . . . I could feel his heart beating.” Her voice broke. She straightened and turned her face aside, toward the jury box.

Peter understood. The vision haunted him, too, and he hadn’t even been there. He couldn’t imagine how Clara Sonsten lived with that memory.

“How long did you hold him?”

“Until he died. At first,” she went on in a low voice. “He was struggling to breathe. At first . . . at first he moved his arms and legs, and for a while he made some little sounds. He was about a foot long. I guessed he weighed about a pound and a half or so. He looked all right to me. I didn’t see anything wrong.”

“Objection.”

Peter turned to Vince.

“Again. Miss Sonsten is not a physician. She’s not qualified to offer opinions as to the fetal condition or possible disabilities.”

Peter turned to Judge Morrow. “Again, Your Honor. The witness is merely stating what she saw. And Miss Sonsten is a Registered Nurse and has worked in the profession for three years. She is stating her opinion based upon her experience as a trained nurse.”

“I’ll allow the testimony. Objection overruled.” Morrow looked at Vince. “But Counsel, you are of course entitled to cross-examine the witness’s credentials.”

Peter turned back to Clara. “How long did you hold the infant?”

Clara looked up at the ceiling and then gave Peter a resigned look. “Over an hour. Maybe an hour and a half. I lost track of time, so it could have been more.” Seconds passed. “After a time I would hold him up to the light to see if his heart was still beating. His skin was almost translucent. And the last time, I could see it wasn’t beating any more. His heart had stopped.”

Peter swallowed, imagining the scene. Behind him there was not a sound in the courtroom. Clara pulled another Kleenex from the box and dabbed at her eyes. Then she crumpled it in her fist and looked up at him.

“And after he died—what did you do then?”

“I followed Dr. Vicari’s instructions. I put him on the shelf in the utility room.”

Peter closed his eyes for an instant, forcing the images aside, struggling not to think of his own unborn child and Rebecca. Behind him Peter heard the scrape of chairs at the defense table. He stepped to the side of the jury box and saw Charles Vicari, hunched toward his lawyer, whispering in his ear as he gestured toward the witness.

Clara stared at Peter without moving, hugging herself. Holding her eyes, Peter nodded, fighting, yet failing to give Clara an encouraging smile. There was no sense of victory. Despite his greatest efforts, images of Clara holding Baby Chasson in the empty room that night flooded his mind, tangling with pictures of Rebecca glowing with health as she carried their child.

Turning, Peter walked back to the prosecution table almost bowed under the weight of Clara Sonsten’s words. Reaching the chair at last, slowly he sat.

“Are you finished with the witness, Counsel?” Judge Morrow’s voice broke through his fog.

Shaking his head, he quickly rose. Knuckles pressed against the table, he looked up at the judge. “Yes, Your Honor. That’s all I have for the witness.” He looked back at Clara. “Thank you, Miss Sonsten.”

Judge Morrow turned his eyes to Vince. “Your turn, Mr. McConnell.”

Vince picked up a few pages of notes, stood, and walked to the lectern. He looked at the notes for a moment, then at Clara Sonsten. Slowly he shook his head.

“Miss Sonsten. Were you promised anything before you agreed to give this testimony?”

“Yes.”

“And what was that?”

“A grant of immunity.”

“Immunity from what?”

Her eyes darted to Peter. “Ah, from aiding and abetting I think . . . just in case.”

“I see.” Vince raked his fingers back through his hair. “So it’s in your best interest to make your testimony as dramatic as you can, isn’t that right?”

Clara lifted her chin and held his eyes. “No. I wanted to testify. Facts are facts, sir. I’d have been here either way after what I saw that night.”

Vince’s tone dripped with sarcasm as he slapped the notes back down on the lectern. “Let’s go back to the beginning. Miss Sonsten. Let’s go back to the moment when you first entered Miss Chasson’s procedure room after Nurse Broussard rang the call bell.”

Without looking at him, she shrugged. “All right.”

“You testified that you answered the call bell at 6:15, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Now.” Vince moved toward her. “When you were talking to Mr. Jacobs, you described several events in the procedure room all occurring at once when you entered. It must have been a confusing scene, all that going on at once. So, I’m asking now for a little clarification. Please tell the court, how long were you in that room altogether that evening?”

She turned her head and looked at him. “I didn’t time it.”

Vince flipped his wrist. “Take a guess. An estimate—how many minutes total would you say you spent in that room after you responded to the call bell.”

She pushed out her bottom lip and looked up, as if at an invisible clock. Then she turned her eyes back to Vince. “Altogether? I’d say two, maybe three minutes.”

Vince stood arms at his sides and held her gaze. “All right. Let’s say three. We’ll give you the benefit of having been in that room for three full minutes. Does that sound about right?”

Clara arched a brow. “I suppose.”

Vince strolled back to the lectern, picked up a piece of paper, and scanned it. “And in those three minutes in the delivery room you testified that you saw all of these things happening at once . . .” Without raising his eyes, he held up his fist and lifted a finger. “One: You saw the patient, Miss Chasson struggling with Nurse Broussard and crying . . . sobbing is the way you put it, I believe?”

“Yes. She was very upset.”

Vince continued, his voice building to a steady, gradual beat. He raised his fist and held up two fingers, eyes still on Glory Lynn. “Two. At the same time that Miss Broussard, that is, Nurse Eileen Broussard, was occupied . . . was fighting, to keep the patient still and to lie back down . . .” He paused. “You said that she was pushing Miss Chasson down on the bed with both hands, is that correct?”

Clara said yes.

He nodded. “So the patient, who has just screamed, is now sobbing and fighting with Nurse Broussard.” His tone took on a drawl. “That must have been some commotion. And a lot of noise.” Vince shook his head and moved a step closer to the witness box.

Glory Lynn gave him an annoyed look.

Vince held up three fingers. “And third.” He swung his arms behind his back and leaned toward Glory Lynn, weight rocking from heel to toe. “Doctor Charles Vicari is occupied with attempting to complete the procedure, with—as you mentioned—only one hand. Tell us again, please, Miss Sonsten, about Doctor Vicari—what you saw at that moment when you walked in, just before you say you heard a cry.”

“He was sitting on the stool at the end of the bed holding the baby . . . the ah, fetus . . . in one hand, and I couldn’t see very well what he was doing with the other. Like I said before, there was some blood.”

“Go on. Then what did Dr. Vicari do?”

“Well he said, take it—meaning, the baby—out of there, to take it to the utility room.”

Vince planted his hands on his hips and looked at Clara. “And you are telling this court that in the midst of all this noise and confusion, the turmoil, that you heard a cry from a premature human fetus with under-developed lungs?”

She looked at him for a minute. He waited. Then she said, “That’s right. I heard it cry.” She hesitated and looked past Vince, avoiding Peter’s eyes. He sucked in his breath. “And when I got close, I saw the arms and legs move too.”

Vince paused, hands in his pockets, and turned toward the gallery in a slow stroll past the prosecution table. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps what you saw was a manipulation of the fetus caused by the Defendant’s own movements, since he was also attempting to render medical aid to his patient at the same time?”

Clara began shaking her head. Her eyes darted to Peter and back. “I don’t think so. I saw the baby move his arms and legs, I’m sure. I saw those tiny arms and legs moving.”

Vince held up both hands and turned half-circle back to her again. “I am asking you to consider whether the
possibility
exists that the fetal body movement that you thought you saw could have resulted from something other than voluntary muscle movement.” He tilted his head, watching her. “Is there room for that possibility in your mind?”

Seconds passed, and then to Peter’s chagrin, Clara shrugged. “Like you said before, I’m not a doctor. I guess anything’s possible.” She tilted her head and looked at him. “But whatever caused it, I saw that baby move, and then I heard the cry.”

“Ah yes. We’ll get to that.” Vince turned on his heels, and leaned back against the partition before the jury box. “But for now, since I’m asking the questions and you’re here to answer them, let’s go back to where we were.” He paused for a beat.

“In the delivery room, you are now testifying that you saw movement, but there’s a
possibility
the fetal movement you thought you saw could have been caused by the Defendant’s own moving around and not necessarily by
voluntary
muscle movement of the fetus. Isn’t that what you just said?”

Clara blinked. “You’ve changed the words all around. But I guess so.”

“Would you like to rephrase your testimony?”

“No.”

“Alright.” Vince glanced at Peter with a slight, almost imperceptible smile. Then he turned to Clara. “And then I believe you testified that the Defendant took the fetus from your hands, wrapped the towel around it, covering the face, and returned it to you. Is that correct?”

“Well, first I asked if I could suction the baby, and call an ambulance for help.”

“And after that, what happened?”

“He became angry. He took the baby from me, and that’s when he wrapped it all up in the towel.”

Vince’s tone was strident. “And you ask us to believe that in the middle of all that was going on in that room at the moment, that the Defendant turned away from his patient, Miss Chasson, and took the fetus from your hands only to wrap the blanket around its face?”

“That’s what happened, sir.”

He whipped around to face Clara. “And you would have this court believe that this Defendant would spend precious time on that for what reason?”

“Because he did not want the baby to breathe. He wanted it to die.”

“And yet, assuming the facts are as you state them, isn’t it just as possible that he wrapped the fetus in that blanket as you described because Dr. Vicari believed that it was not alive, that it was nothing more than expelled tissue?” He stalked closer. “Isn’t that just possible?”

“No. I’d told him the baby was alive.”

“But you’d also talked about the noise in the room. Isn’t it possible that he hadn’t heard you?”

“No.”

McConnell hestitated and touched his forefinger to his lip. “Tell us, Miss Sonsten, if you believed that you were holding a live infant in your arms, when the Defendant—as you say—handed the infant back to you to hold, why didn’t you pull a clean blanket from the table right there to wrap around the baby? Why leave it in a soiled delivery towel?”

Clara stared at him.

“Please answer the question.”

“I guess I didn’t think of that.”

“What usually happens to a delivery towel after it’s used?”

“They’re put in medical waste.”

Peter stifled a groan.

“Yes. Like any other tissue.” He moved a little closer toward Clara.

McConnell’s voice turned acid. “Let me ask this question. In all the time you were in that room, did it ever occur to you that Miss Chasson had come to the clinic specifically in order to terminate her pregnancy? To be specific, that she’d chosen not to have a child?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve testified that the scene in that room was confusing, and you did not understand what Miss Chasson was saying over there with Nurse Broussard, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“So are you telling this court that in the midst of all that confusion you suddenly took it upon yourself to overrule not only the judgment of the physician in charge, but also Miss Chasson’s constitutionally protected choice?”

“But she’d already given birth and the infant was still alive!”

He wagged his finger. “There’s that word again.”

Clara flushed.

But Vince went on. “Do you agree that the decision to use an induction abortion procedure—that is, to induce labor, is a judgment call to be made solely by the doctor and his patient?”

Clara frowned. “Yes, of course.”

“Are you aware that with an advanced stage fetus, say beginning at twenty, twenty-one weeks and after—late term—other methods of abortion carry increased health risks to the woman, damage such as perforation of the uterus, parts left behind, hemorrhage, even death?”