Due Justice (10 page)

“Did you see the look on Christian Grover's face? I don't think anyone has refused to let him talk in fifteen years.”

“You got that right,” the other clerk replied. “I've never seen anybody shut him up before!” At least that would give them something to talk about over dinner this evening and Worthington could go back to his office and profess his victory over Grover, even though he lost his motion.

By some miracle, my afternoon calendar was clear. I tried to work, but I just couldn't concentrate. If I didn't get to the bottom of this thing with Carly, I knew I'd never get any work done. Weary tired of waiting for the problem to solve itself and not getting the answers I needed. I grabbed my purse and headed for the judge's garage. If I dropped in unannounced, Carly would have to see me.

I drove to MedPro, which was across the Gandy Bridge on Roosevelt Boulevard in St. Petersburg. In the parking lot, I pulled into the only empty spot marked “visitors.” I'd never been to MedPro before and I was impressed with the aesthetics of the building. There was a small pond out back with a long dock running from the building to a large gazebo. The building itself was pristine white with “MedPro, Inc.” in large blue letters over the door. The lobby was similarly clean and decorated in a contemporary style. It continued the azure blue and bright white color scheme.

The receptionist smiled brightly at me as I approached her. Do you need great teeth to be a receptionist? “Good morning. My name is Wilhelmina Carson. I'm here to see Ms. Carly Austin.” When she asked me if I had an appointment, I lied.

I heard the receptionist call Carly's office. The receptionist continued to smile at me, but I could tell that what she heard from the other end of the phone was not what she wanted to hear. Her smile faded. Unexpected visitors were apparently not the norm at MedPro, Inc.

When she hung up the phone, the receptionist told me nicely, but with a shade less warmth, that Ms. Austin's secretary would be right down. The secretary arrived less than three minutes later, introduced herself, gave me a visitor's badge to attach to my jacket and asked me to follow her.

It was a long walk back to Carly's office through several corridors. Each time we came to a door, the secretary held up a security card to an electronic reader and the door automatically unlocked. I noticed that the card readers were located on both sides of the doorway, so that it was impossible to travel throughout the various departments without security access, both in and out.

“Ms. Austin is in a meeting at the moment,” the secretary said. “She asked me to make you comfortable in her office and to tell you she'd be with you as soon as she can. Would you like coffee or soda?”

I assured her I would be fine waiting for Ms. Austin until she arrived. She left me alone in Carly's office, which faced the small pond I saw from the parking lot. It was really quite a lovely view, complete with wild life, including a couple of gators sunning themselves on the bank.

Carly's office was pretty nice for a junior counsel. It was about twelve by sixteen feet with a reasonably sized desk and credenza as well as a small conference table, a bookcase and two client chairs facing the desk. The windows covered one entire wall, opposite the door. The office had no personal effects in it: no pictures, no artwork, no desk accessories. Carly had worked here almost three years and if she left tomorrow, new counsel could move into this office without so much as rearranging the furniture. Comforting thought to a young lawyer—you're an interchangeable chair.

Carly's secretary didn't close the door and neither did I. I stood with my back to it, looking out the windows for what seemed like half an hour, but was probably closer to ten minutes. Then I sat down in one of Carly's client chairs and noticed a copy of MedPro's Annual Report on the table. I picked it up and read the biographical section on the company's history.

MedPro was formed in 1980 by three doctors, one of whom was, to my surprise, Dr. Michael Morgan. The other two founders were Dr. Carolyn Young and Dr. Alan Zimmer. Morgan, Young and Zimmer were all faculty members and research scientists at CFU Medical School in the early seventies when they discovered new applications for silicone technology on a grant funded by one of the major silicone manufacturers.

The report said that, at the time, the manufacturer was looking for a more “responsive” gel for its breast implants, something that would more closely approximate the feel of human tissue. A silicone breast implant is much like Jello in a baggie. The research challenge was to come up with a gel that would be firm enough to resist leaking through the outer envelope and hold up well inside the breast tissue and yet soft enough to approximate the feel of human breast tissue.

At the time, radical mastectomy was the surgical method of choice for the treatment of breast cancer. The procedure was physically and psychologically devastating to the patient and everyone was racing to find an implant that could be used in reconstruction at the same time as the initial surgery.

Study after study had shown that waking up after mastectomy, either bilateral or unilateral, and observing her scarred and flat chest, was more emotionally devastating to the patient than the initial cancer diagnosis. If the reconstruction could be done at the same time as the mastectomy, then the initial shock of the surgery was significantly blunted.

The problem was that the implants available were hard and conical. If both breasts were removed, replacing both with implants would result in a symmetrical appearance. If only one breast was removed, an implant would be obvious.

Even in a double mastectomy case, the harder implants were often undesirable because they were so obviously not a part of the more mature body of a woman likely to have breast cancer. Most breast cancer patients are over fifty and have born children. Their breasts didn't look like an 18-year-old's before surgery, and implants that made the breast look like an 18-year-old's after surgery weren't acceptable to many patients. The patients wanted to look and feel just like they had before the surgery, no better and no worse.

Dr. Young became interested in the project after her mother had a mastectomy and was required to wear a prosthesis. Dr. Young, already interested in silicone chemistry, sold her concept to a group of manufacturers at the American Society of Testing and Materials. Three of the manufacturers took her up on the proposal and issued a multi-million dollar grant to her and her two colleagues.

This was a complete paradigm shift for me. I had no idea of the history behind the development of breast implants. It was hard for me to reconcile the chauvinistic product to the altruistic picture painted by the annual report.

After three years, the report continued, Drs. Morgan, Young and Zimmer did discover a suitable responsive gel and all three manufacturers began to make implants using the formula the doctors had created. The new implants were an instant success and immediate reconstruction became the standard of care following unilateral or bilateral mastectomy.

Dr. Young's mother was one of the first patients. A long testimonial letter from her was reprinted in its entirety. A footnote to the report indicated that Mrs. Young had died less than a year after receiving her implant and had granted permission for an autopsy to further her daughter's research. No results of the autopsy were included.

Later, after observing the success made of their discovery and wanting to get in on the money, Drs. Morgan, Young and Zimmer formed MedPro, Inc. They mortgaged everything they owned to get the company started. At first, they manufactured breast implants using their responsive gel. Later, they developed other breast implant products to deal with issues such as hardening of the breasts and rupture of the implants that would sometimes occur a few months to a few years after implantation. After the initial lean years of start up costs, MedPro grew so quickly it went public in 1985.

From my discussions with George about initial public offerings, I knew Drs. Morgan, Young and Zimmer must have become immediate millionaires on paper based on the value of their stock when they went public. What must that kind of money have meant to research scientists used to eating potted meat on a regular basis?

The infusion of capital from the stock sale enabled the company to branch out into the manufacture of other medical devices. They acquired a patent and marketed kinetic therapy products to prevent bedsores in bed-ridden patients. They produced lifesaving silicone catheters and hydrocephalic shunts. By late 1991, their sales exceeded $500,000,000. In 1992, MedPro was listed as one of the top ten publicly-traded companies in Florida.

That was as far as I got when I heard Carly come in. I slipped the Annual Report into my purse for further reading at another time. It was a public document. I wasn't stealing anything.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tampa, Florida

Friday 12:45 p.m.

January 8, 1999

“WILHELMINA, I'M SURPRISED TO see you here. Please sit down,” she said as she closed the door.

I looked at her closely. She looked in worse shape than she had been Wednesday evening. She was pale, drawn and gaunt. There was an air of desperation about her and I thought she was silently entreating me not to mention our previous conversation. Until I could figure it out, I'd play along.

“It's been so long since George and I have seen you. I was driving by MedPro and, since I've never been to your office, I thought I'd stop in for a short visit. Would you be interested in giving me a tour or your facility?”

Carly seemed relieved that I'd understood her signals. She flashed a brilliant smile and offered me the tour.

We left her office and turned right, in the opposite direction from the lobby. Carly began a walking monologue, explaining the offices, the plant, the manufacturing practices and the products made here at MedPro. She repeated much of what was contained in the Annual Report, and I got the impression that this was the public story, reproduced in every medium.

In truth, the tour was fascinating. MedPro, Carly told me, was a small manufacturer of silicone-based and other medical products. While going through the manufacturing portion of the plant, we were required to dress in sterile gowns, masks, caps, gloves and booties. During the entire tour, Carly pointed out the precautions taken to follow sterile procedures, packaging, labeling and other FDA related requirements.

When we arrived at the research and development lab, Carly told me about MedPro's latest venture.

“The Company is currently experimenting with natural implants. The process uses a woman's own cells to generate natural tissue inside her breasts. Other researchers are experimenting with vegetable oil and fat filled implants, but our process is different. Within three to five years, if it works, we'll be able to remove tissue samples from somewhere on the body and grow additional cells in a lab. The cells would then be implanted into the breast where they would become real breast tissue.”

“Are you saying you're experimenting with cloning humans?”

“Not exactly, but kind of like that. Here's the theory: a tissue sample with cells similar to those in breasts—”

“You mean pure fat?” I joked. I was relieved to see Carly smile, too.

“Not pure fat, but high in fat, yes. Anyway, those cells would be removed from the patient's thigh or abdomen.”

“Those other gorgeous anatomic areas.” I was trying to lighten the mood, and Carly seemed to appreciate the effort.

“It's surprising Hugh Hefner and Bob Guccione have been able to make so much glamour out of so much blubber, isn't it?”

By this time, we were both smiling, as Carly continued to explain the new process. When she'd finished, I asked her, “How close is this to becoming a reality?”

“Well, there are still a few things to work out. Three to five years away, at least.”

“It's an expensive project. What if it doesn't work?”

“We try not to think about that around here. ‘Negative thinking never solved anything' is the researcher's motto.”

Carly continued this charade all the way back to her office where she told me how pleased she was that I had come and asked me if I could join her for lunch. I told her I'd be delighted and we went out to my car.

Once we were out of the building and in my car, Carly slumped against the seat and closed her eyes. The charade had drained her.

I drove the few miles from the plant into downtown St. Petersburg and parked my car at the Vinoy, a large art deco hotel right on the water. We went in and were seated in the teak paneled dining room. After I ordered iced tea for both of us, I looked at Carly directly.

“At some point, you're going to have to tell me what is going on. Why did we go through that charade back at the plant? “

Carly seemed no more willing to talk and no less ill at ease than when she first came to the house. Since she wasn't willing to begin, I said “You need to know that George and I told the police who the body was.” Her eyes widened, she pushed herself away from the table and started to rise from her seat. I put my hand on her arm to keep her from leaving, or making a scene in a place where both of us were well known.

“We made an anonymous call from a pay phone. All we said was that the body could be Dr. Morgan. Nothing more.” She sat back down, slowly, and relaxed a little.