Small Great Things(139)

“I’m a widow,” she says. “My husband was a soldier who died in Afghanistan. It happened about ten years ago.”

“Do you have any children?”

“Yes, my son, Edison. He’s seventeen.” Her eyes shine, and she searches Edison out in the gallery.

“Do you recall coming to work the morning of October second, 2015?”

“Yes,” Ruth says. “I came in at seven A.M. for a twelve-hour shift.”

“Were you assigned to watch Davis Bauer?”

“Yes. His mother had delivered early that morning. I was assigned to do typical postpartum care of Brittany Bauer, and a nurse’s newborn exam.”

She describes the exam, and says she conducted it in the hospital room.

“So Brittany Bauer was present?”

“Yes,” Ruth says. “So was her husband.”

“Was there any significant finding during this exam?”

“I noted a heart murmur in the file. It wasn’t something I felt that we needed to be alarmed about—it’s a very common condition for newborns. But it was definitely something for the pediatrician to check out the next time she came back, which was why I wrote it down.”

“Did you know Mr. and Mrs. Bauer prior to the birth of their son?”

“No,” Ruth replies. “I met them when I came into the room. I congratulated them on their beautiful baby boy, and explained I was there to do a routine check.”

“How long were you in the room with them?”

“Ten to fifteen minutes.”

“Did you have any verbal exchange with the parents at that time?”

“I mentioned the murmur, and that it wasn’t any reason for concern. And I told them his sugar levels had improved since birth. Then after I cleaned the baby up, I suggested we try to have him nurse.”

“What response did you get?”

“Mr. Bauer told me to get away from his wife. Then he said he wanted to speak to my supervisor.”

“How did that make you feel, Ruth?”

“I was shocked,” she admits. “I didn’t know what I’d done to upset them.”

“What happened next?”

“My boss, Marie Malone, put a note in the baby’s file, stating that no African American staff should come in contact with the infant. I questioned her about it, and she said it was done at the request of the parents, and that I would be reassigned.”

“When did you next see the baby?”

“Saturday morning. I was in the nursery when Corinne—the baby’s new nurse—brought him in for a circ.”

“What were your responsibilities that morning?”

She frowns. “I had two—no, three patients. It had been a crazy night; I’d worked a shift I wasn’t supposed to work because another nurse was out sick. I had gone into the nursery to grab clean linens, and to scarf down a PowerBar, because I hadn’t eaten at all during my shift.”

“What happened after the baby was circumcised?”

“I wasn’t in the room, but I assumed it all went normally. Then Corinne grabbed me and asked me to watch over him because another one of her patients had to be rushed to the OR, and protocol required that a postcirc baby be monitored.”

“Did you agree?”

“I didn’t really have a choice. There was literally no one else to do it. I knew Corinne or Marie, my charge nurse, would be back quickly to take over.”

“When you first saw the baby, how did he look?”

“Beautiful,” Ruth says. “He was swaddled and fast asleep. But a few moments later I looked down and saw that his skin was ashen. He was making grunting noises. I could see he was having trouble breathing.”

I walk toward the witness box, and set my hand on the rail. “What did you do in that instant, Ruth?”

She takes a deep breath. “I unwrapped the swaddling. I started touching the baby, tapping his feet, trying to get him to respond.”

The jury looks puzzled. Odette sits back in her chair, arms crossed, a smile breaking over her face.

“Why did you do that? When you’d been told by your supervisor to not touch that baby?”

“I had to,” Ruth confesses. I can see it, the way she breaks free, like a butterfly from a chrysalis. Her voice is lighter, the lines bracketing her mouth soften. “It’s what any good nurse would do in that situation.”

“Then what?”

“The next step would have been to call a code, to get a whole team in to resuscitate. But I heard footsteps. I knew someone was coming and I didn’t know what to do. I thought I’d get in trouble if someone saw me interacting with the baby, when I had been told not to. So I wrapped him up again, and stepped back, and Marie walked into the nursery.” Ruth looks down at her lap. “She asked me what I was doing.”

“What did you say, Ruth?”

When she glances up, her eyes are wide with shame. “I said I was doing nothing.”

“You lied?”

“Yes.”

“More than once, apparently—when you were later questioned by the police, you stated that you did not engage in any resuscitative efforts for that baby. Why?”

“I was afraid I was going to lose my job.” She turns to the jury, pleading her case. “Every fiber of my being told me I had to help that infant…but I also knew I’d be reprimanded if I went against my supervisor’s orders. And if I lost my job, who would take care of my son?”