Saving Meghan(83)

She’d been wrong.

Carl had exited the elevator alongside a petite woman with auburn hair and a fine-featured, doll-like face. She, too, was dressed sharply, in a one-button seamed jacket and matching navy-colored slacks. Becky quietly took in her oversize black leather briefcase as well as her too-big-to-be-missed diamond ring. With another glance, she saw that Carl no longer wore his ring. As he came toward her, Becky twisted off the rings on her finger, managing to slip them into her purse without his noticing.

“How are you?” he asked. The flat tone of his voice suggested he did not care how she answered.

“I’m fine,” Becky said. “You?”

“We don’t have to go through with this,” Carl said. “You need help, Becky. Professional help.”

Becky peered over Carl’s shoulder, grateful to see Kelly step out of the elevator. “Not a chance,” she said.

“Is it Zach?” Carl asked. “Is that why you left me? For him?”

It took great restraint for Becky not to roll her eyes like a teenager. “It’s not about you, Carl. And it’s certainly not about another man. It’s about Meghan, and your lack of faith in your daughter and in me.”

Kelly came over to Becky and Carl, appearing unsettled.

“Is everything all right?” Becky asked nervously. “I was worried you weren’t going to show.”

“Becky—” Kelly began, but Carl interrupted her.

“Tell the judge you’ve changed your mind, Becky,” Carl said. “Tell her we talked it over and agreed we don’t need a second biopsy.”

“No chance,” Becky repeated, turning to Kelly for solidarity, but she did not receive a reassuring glance in return.

The door to Judge Trainer’s office opened at 10:30 on the button. The judge, wearing a white blouse and slacks but no robe, poked her thin, weathered face into the hallway.

“I’m glad you’re all here,” Judge Trainer said. “Please come in; we’ll get started right away.”

Judge Trainer’s sizable office was warm and inviting. Towering bookshelves filled with legal tomes took up a good portion of the available wall space. The surface of the judge’s massive oak desk was kept as neat as a soldier’s bunk. Light poured in from a pair of south-facing windows, which explained the faded colors on the ornate oriental rug in front of Judge Trainer’s desk.

Four chairs had been set up in front of the desk, awaiting the meeting’s occupants. A trial court officer, imposing in his uniform (black slacks topped with a white shirt and a black tie), stood emotionlessly near the door, looking ready to pounce if these proceedings got out of hand. Nearby stood a small table where a court reporter and court clerk had set up temporary shop, prepared to handle the administrative duties of the hearing and document every statement as part of the official record.

As everyone else took their respective seats, Judge Trainer settled her slender frame into the plush leather chair that bore the imprint of her body. Appropriately enough, Carl and Becky bookended the two women who would be arguing different sides of the biopsy issue. Everyone was sworn in so that anything said would, at least in legal terms, be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Judge Trainer slipped on her wire-rimmed glasses to glance at the brief laid out on the desk before her. “Good morning, everyone,” she said in a crisp, officious tone. “I’ve read through the brief Ms. London sent over. I also have a written statement from Jill Mendoza, Meghan’s guardian ad litem, who apologized for not being able to attend this hearing in person. I understand the mother would like me to authorize a second biopsy for Meghan after the previous test was tainted due to a lab error, and the father is opposed. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Kelly said.

“And is it true that Meghan’s psychiatrist, Dr. Peter Levine, died suddenly from still-undetermined causes?”

“That’s true,” Kelly said. “The autopsy is inconclusive at this time.”

Judge Trainer sent Becky a leering look clouded with suspicion. “Very well,” she said solemnly. “Let’s talk.” Judge Trainer leaned forward, elbows resting on her desk. Her open expression, her whole demeanor, boosted Becky’s confidence.

But something about Kelly still seemed off.

The opposing attorney spoke up. “Judge Trainer, we’ve met before. I’m attorney Erin Haze from Coleman and Wells, attorneys-at-law. I’ve recently been retained by the Department of Children and Families to represent their interests in this matter.”

“Yes, Ms. Haze, I do remember you.”

“Mr. Gerard was present when Meghan had the biopsy done, and saw for himself how truly distressing the procedure was for her, both physically and emotionally. It should be noted that the Department of Children and Families, along with several prominent doctors at White Memorial, are against the procedure and believe the mother to be engaged in medical child abuse in the form of Munchausen syndrome by proxy.

“Since Meghan is not currently receiving treatment for mitochondrial disease because of a belief that a psychosomatic disorder—a psychiatric condition—is the cause of her symptoms, there is no reason to subject her to the emotional trauma of further testing. Furthermore, a positive test result from the muscle biopsy will not, at this time, change the current course of treatment because there simply is no gold-standard test for diagnosing mitochondrial disease. Much of that diagnosis comes from clinical observation, and the diagnosing physician, Dr. Zach Fisher, is compromised due to confirmation bias resulting from his tragic connection to the disease, which has led to him overdiagnosing this condition in other patients. All of this was brought up in court already.