Doctor Carlo and Brandon - 7. Crisis, Trouble, and More

Things had gone too well lately. When the shit started hitting the fan, it was somewhat expected. Granted, it was extremely unpleasant. But then, when is shit ever pleasant?

It started a couple weeks after Karl's ex, Stephanie, got remarried. None of us were impressed very much with the new guy, but nobody expected the level of asshole, he turned out to be. He had a temper—that was putting it mildly. Fortunately, Karl had custody and Stephanie didn't want to have anything to do with her kids; they escaped his wrath. Her penalty was way more severe than she deserved. Jim beat her just two weeks after they were married. He lit the house on fire afterward. She escaped with only minor burns, but still spent two weeks in the hospital due to her other injuries. He spent that time in county lockup, awaiting trial. Being in jail was a good thing. Karl wanted to kill him. I was completely sure; it was a desire that might come to fruition. Fortunately, the asshole was sentenced to forty years for aggravated assault, arson, and attempted murder. That satisfied Karl's lust for vengeance sufficiently.

After her second divorce in a few months, Stephanie begged Karl to take her back. He still loved her, so he took her back on a trial basis. If she stayed faithful for a year, they'd remarry. That jury was out for a bit but has returned a verdict. I'll get there.

It didn't get any better after that. Apparently, house fires were in vogue for the Marlow family. The second wasn't as fortunate for those involved. I woke up one Sunday in late August to a frantic phone call from Karl. He was so upset, I only caught three words throughout the short conversation: Janet, fire, and dead. It took checking the local paper on-line before I got the whole story. It was much worse than those three words implied.

House Fire Kills Three

JACKSONVILLE: A house fire in the East Arlington section of Jacksonville claimed three lives Saturday morning, August twenty-fifth. Karl Marlow senior, sixty-three, Janet Turnbull (nee Marlow), thirty-three, and Rebecca Turnbull, nine, were declared dead at the scene. Cause of death was suspected to be smoke inhalation. Fire chief James Kirkpatrick indicated the cause of the fire was likely faulty wiring in the hundred-twenty-year-old home. A second child, Calvin, seven, was hospitalized for smoke inhalation, but is expected to recover completely. In an odd coincidence, Janet Turnbull's husband, Jack, was killed in Afghanistan six years ago on the same date. Services for the deceased have not yet been announced.

I immediately called Karl back. He'd calmed down enough to be somewhat coherent.

"Damn, Karl. I'm so sorry. I just read the story on-line. Do you need someone there?"

"I don't know, Carlo. I can't think straight yet. Between Stephanie's beating and this, I'm waiting for the rest of my world to fall apart. Cal hasn't woken up yet, but the doctors say he'll recover. Physically, maybe. I don't know how I'm going to tell him after he does wake up. I'm still in shock. I can't believe it, they're all gone. I…"

Karl started crying again. After a couple minutes, he calmed enough for me to determine which hospital he was at with Calvin. Lucky me, it's where I was taken when I had my breakdown last year. I needed those memories to resurface like I needed a hole in my head. But I told Karl I was on my way, then I filled Brandon in and headed to the hospital. Thus, leaving him the unpleasant task of telling our kids what happened when they woke up.

Karl was asleep on a chair in Calvin's hospital room. I quietly sat in another chair. Knowing the stress he was under, waking him would be a mistake. Calvin stirred first, coughing. After he recovered from his coughing fit, he noticed me.

"Uncle Carlo. Where are we?"

"In a hospital, Cal."

"Why?"

"There was a fire at your grandfather's house, you breathed in a lot of smoke."

"Where's mommy? Is she here?"

I stood up and held his hand, "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your mommy isn't here. She died in the fire."

Sadness was taking hold, Cal struggled to remain calm, "Becky? Grandpa?"

"They're both gone too."

A little louder, with a crack in his voice, "What's going to happen to me?"

Karl was awake now, "I'm here for you, Cal. You'll come live with me."

It was all too much for the little guy. The tears started falling, accompanied by racking sobs, which caused another coughing fit. A nurse was walking past and came in, watching to see if he would begin to have any difficulty breathing. She was apparently satisfied that wouldn't happen and stood off to the side while Karl and I tried to console Cal. Neither of us were without tears ourselves, but I held Cal's hand and Karl leaned in and hugged him. Cal cried himself back to sleep and Karl motioned me out into the hall.

"It's not fair, Carlo. Why did this have to happen? What did Calvin or I do to deserve this?"

"Neither of you did anything wrong, Karl. Life isn't always fair. Nobody knows why bad things happen; they just do. But I'm here for you, buddy. Lean on me as much as you need to. Stephanie can take care of the kids while you mourn. You need to take care of yourself right now. And Cal."

"I know. It's just so fucking unfair. He's seven. To lose his whole family? Why?"

"I can't answer that, Karl. Unfortunately, nobody gets those answers when something like this happens. But he didn't lose his whole family. He still has you. You still have him. Plus, he has Stephanie, young Karl, and Barry."

On that last point, two out of three ain't bad. I later discovered Meat Loaf was right. in addition to Karl, Cal only had young Karl and Barry. I told Karl to come back to the house later, and feel free to bring everybody else. He needed to be around people who loved him right now.

Karl and his boys walked in before dinner time, "That fucking bitch!"

I'd heard bad luck comes in threes. We were about to hear what strike three was.

"What happened?"

Karl handed me the note:

Karl, you motherfucking, cock sucking, asshole eating, shithead,

I can't believe you would pull something so shitty. Telling me, your father and sister were dead. Have fun fucking whatever little whore it is. You're dead to me now. Don't bother looking for me. If you found me, I'd never answer you anyway. Fuck you and have a rotten life.

Brandon was reading over my shoulder, "Wow. She's obviously got some severe mental issues. How could she think, you made that up?"

"I don't know, Brandon. And right now, I couldn't care less. We were fine without her when she was with the real asshole—we'll be fine again." Realizing his kids were listening, "Shit. Sorry guys."

"It's okay, Dad. She was mean a lot of the times you were gone."

"I wish you'd told me sooner. I wouldn't have let her come back."

"We'll be okay. Fuck her."

"KARL!"

"Sorry, Dad. I just mean, I don't think Barry and I will miss her too much. We'd gotten used to it just being us."

"I won't punish you; I mean, I basically said the same thing at home when I saw the note."

I stepped away for a second and got Karl a beer, knowing he never drank anything stronger. "I think, you might need this."

"You still got the rest of the case? One might not be enough."

"We'll stop at one for now."

"Thanks, Carlo."

"Can I have one too, Uncle Carlo?"

You wouldn't think, he was only eleven, "Gee, Karl, let me think about that. No."

"I tried."

Barry was quiet. I wasn't completely sure he held the same view of his mother as Karl did.

"You're quiet. Are you okay, Barry?"

"I guess. Everything is just so weird right now."

"It is. You know, I'm here if you want to talk to someone other than your dad, right?"

"I know. Daddy, what's going to happen to Calvin?"

"I'm pretty sure he'll be coming to live with us. Are you okay with that?"

Barry looked up at his father, "Yeah. It's kind of like I'll have a little brother, he's like a year younger, right?"

"Yes. He turned seven a month ago."

A rare smile hit his face and eyes, "And I'll be eight next month. We're the same age right now."

He asked his other son, "What about you, Karl?"

"Yeah, it's cool. I'll have two little brothers to pick on."

His father threw him a look.

"I'm kidding."

Two days later, Calvin went home with Karl. Karl contacted Brandon's father to aid with the guardianship paperwork. Being Cal's only living relative, Karl becoming Cal's legal guardian was a formality. Another two days after that, Karl had made appointments with me for Cal, Barry, and himself. Young Karl refused to come along at that time. I was pretty sure that would change in the future. He was bitter, but that would soften at some point, and he'd be confused about his feelings toward his absent mother. I had Maxine schedule Cal and Barry to sequential appointments, and Karl the elder, a day or two later. In between, were the funerals.

I'd never been to a triple funeral before. I doubt many people have. I made sure I was there for both viewings as well as the funeral. Since I knew Karl wouldn’t be able to console Cal very well, I acted as stand-in parent/uncle... Young Karl and Barry were given a pass and stayed with the nanny, who fortunately, was still employed. That was a point that helped CPS decide to let Cal live with Karl. He and Calvin cried, of course, but the funerals were essentially the same as any other I'd been to. Having three caskets in the same room was the main difference.

Moving on to more pleasant topics, the Jaguars opened the season at home against the Titans. Karl purchased club seats for the game. All of us were there, along with Travis' parents and siblings. Travis Beckle ran for eighty-two yards and caught four passes for another eighty in a twenty-four to fourteen Jaguars victory. I was hopeful for a successful season. There had been rumors about a potential sale and move of the team. Those disappeared quickly after a six and one start.

Once again things calmed down for a while. The next interesting thing that happened was that one of my patients was arrested for assaulting another man who was giving him and his partner a hard time. Lawson Baxter's attorney asked me to testify to his client's frame of mind. A first for me, but with Lawson pleading not guilty, I was an obvious choice. I had to refute the nearly unbelievable testimony from the prosecution's doctor. A man I was familiar with by reputation but did not know personally. That made it easier for me to help rip him to shreds. I made notes for Lawson's attorney, Benson Attboro, throughout the doctor's time on the witness stand with the prosecution. Attboro used them well.

"The prosecution calls Doctor Trenton Bowscott."

After Bowscott was sworn in, the fun began.

"Doctor Bowscott, did you have an opportunity to examine the defendant, Lawson Baxter?"

"Yes sir, I did."

"And what happened during that examination?"

"Mister Baxter was initially hesitant to provide any answers. This left me with the feeling he was aware of his wrongdoing. When he finally did respond, his statements were stunted and, in my mind, deceptive."

"Deceptive in what way?"

"Aside from the obvious, 'I didn't know what I was doing,' he lied about where the assault took place and how severe the assault was."

"Where did he say the assault took place?"

"He claimed, it happened in Jackson, Mississippi."

"And the extent of the assault?"

"He claimed to have only hit the victim once."

"And what were your conclusions?"

"I concluded that he was well aware of where the assault took place, and based on the victim's hospital record, misleading about the severity of the assault. All of that told me, he knew exactly what he was doing, and was trying to cover his, um, behind."

"So, would you say, the defendant was sane, both at the time of the assault and during your examination?"

"Yes. My opinion is that he was, and currently is, sane."

"Nothing further, your witness."

"Thank you. Doctor Bowscott, did you delve into my client's background in any way?"

"No. I didn't believe that was relevant."

Attboro shook his head, "I understand you spent twenty-two minutes with Mister Baxter. Do you really believe that was enough time to determine the level of his sanity, or his frame of mind, in any way?"

"Yes. I do."

"Do you know where my client grew up?"

"No. I do not."

"Did you ask him about any previous interactions with the victim?"

I wondered why Attboro didn't mention Jackson. As I soon found out; he'd rather I provide that detail.

"No. I failed to see the relevance in that as well."

Another head shake, “Next, doctor, how many times have you testified for the prosecution as to the mental condition of the defendant?"

"I believe this is my fifteenth time."

"Correct, based on my research. How many times did you disagree with the prosecution's opinion of the defendant's sanity?"

The prosecutor jumped up, "Objection. The doctor can't be sure of knowing how many times he's considered a man sane or not."

The judge wasn't buying it, "I'm sure, a man of Doctor Bowscott's obvious experience and intelligence can count to fifteen. Overruled. Answer the question, doctor."

"I have many other patients; I can't be sure."

Attboro retorted with not a small dose of sarcasm, "Counting to fifteen is not necessary, doctor. Can you count to zero?"

"Objection. Defense is badgering the witness."

"Which is perfectly allowable during cross. Overruled. Again, answer the question, doctor."

The doctor bought no good will with the judge with his answer, "Yes, I can count to zero."

Attboro sighed, "And is zero the correct answer to the initial question, how many times have you disagreed with the prosecution?"

Sheepishly, "Yes, it is."

"Finally, how many times have you testified for the defense in similar cases?"

"Again, I'd have to check."

This time laced with sarcasm, "Can you count to one, doctor?"

"Yes. Once."

"And what was your opinion in that one instance?"

"The defendant was insane."

"What was your relationship with that defendant?"

Barely audible, "He was my brother-in-law."

"Your honor, I don't believe the jury heard the doctor's answer. Can you make him repeat it loudly and clearly?"

"The witness is so ordered."

"That defendant was my brother-in-law."

"Nothing further."

The prosecution also called a general practitioner to verify the injuries sustained by the victim, conveniently leaving out two important details. That physician pointed out that all the injuries occurred at the same time. The hospital records clearly indicated, most were at least three and as few as one day old, and nearly all apparently inflicted by a strong left hand. Only one being on the alleged victim's left side, and it being older than the rest. Attboro's physician pointed both out when he testified. Then it was my turn. I was sworn in, and Mister Attboro started serving up soft volleys for me to smash.

"Doctor Marini, Lawson Baxter is currently under your care, correct?"

"Yes, that is true."

"How long has Mister Baxter been a patient?"

"Just under three years."

"And roughly how many times have you met with Lawson over those three years?"

"One hundred and forty-one."

"You seem sure."

"Every week except for six, I was on vacation, and two he skipped."

"How long was the typical visit?"

"They varied between thirty and sixty minutes."

"Assuming even only one was sixty minutes, that means you've spent over seventy hours talking to Mister Baxter, correct?"

"Yes. But I would say, nearly half were of the sixty-minute variety, so more like one hundred hours."

"We'll still say seventy, the absolute minimum." He turned to look at the jury, "The equivalent of nearly three whole days. Is it safe to assume you know quite a bit about Mister Baxter's background?"

"I would have to say so, yes."

Turning back toward me, "Do you know where he was born and raised?"

"Yes. Jackson, Mississippi."

"Can you confirm where Mister Baxter believed the assault occurred?"

"Jackson, Mississippi."

"Have there been times when Mr. Baxter believed, he was still in Mississippi?"

"Yes. It was actually very rare when he didn't."

"Had Mister Baxter ever mentioned the victim, Glass Timble?"

"Yes. He said, he'd had a number of run-ins with Mister Timble."

"Objection, hearsay."

"Doctor Marini was repeating what a patient of his said. If someone else aside from Mister Baxter told him that, then it would be hearsay. Overruled."

"Did he indicate that any of those were violent?"

"No. He indicated; they were universally verbal assaults from Mister Timble's perspective."

"What about reactions from Mister Baxter?"

"Most often he simply walked away—a few times he told me, the insults were so severe, he walked away crying."

"Were you privy to the results of the alleged victim's medical examination which occurred after the assault?"

"Yes, I was able to review it."

"Did you see anything unusual?"

"As Doctor Carpenter testified, two key items. Most of the injuries to the victim were on his right side, indicating a left-handed assailant. Secondly, the records indicated the injuries were a maximum of three days old."

"Why are those two facts important?"

"Lawson Baxter has had limited use of his left arm and hand since childhood. In my opinion, he could not have caused any, never mind the bulk of the victim's injuries. Secondly, the victim was examined twice. Once immediately after the assault, and once again six days later after Mister Baxter was arrested. The examination immediately following the assault had no mention of any left-handed injuries; only a single bruise on the left bicep."

"Did Mister Baxter admit to you that he hit the victim once?"

"Yes."

"Where did he indicate where that blow fell?"

"The victim's upper left arm."

"Do you consider the defendant sane, or insane?"

"Neither technically. But of those two, I would say sane. Mister Baxter has been diagnosed with Hypoactive Delirium."

"What exactly is that?"

"The Mayo clinic defines it as such: 'Delirium is a serious change in mental abilities. It results in confused thinking and a lack of awareness of someone's surroundings. People with Hypoactive Delirium may be inactive or have reduced activity. They tend to be sluggish or drowsy. They might seem to be in a daze. They don't interact with family or others.' Mister Baxter exhibited one or all of those symptoms constantly."

"Nothing further."

The prosecution attempted to shoot holes in my testimony.

"Doctor Marini, isn't it true that Delirium is typically a short-term condition?"

"That is commonly the case."

"Do you consider anything that seems to be the case for three years short-term?"

"No, but I did say ‘commonly the case’. There have been hundreds of documented cases of chronic delirium. One of which is Mister Baxter."

"Isn't it true that rather than being delirious, Mister Baxter is a pathological liar?"

"I don't believe that, and apparently your own doctor didn't make that diagnosis either."

The prosecutor looked as though he'd just swallowed a large and disgusting bug. Like the saying goes, don’t ask a question, you don’t want to hear the answer to.

"Nothing further."

Lawson Baxter was found not guilty.

Next up - "More Marlow Appointments, and Life Settles Down"