Rachel could see Cole in the front row, his jaw tight, reliving the diagnosis.
"Cole came to me with a severe rotator cuff tear. Two orthopedic surgeons told him surgery was risky, recovery difficult, his career likely over. Best case: basic function. Worst case: permanent damage." Ellie's voice strengthened. "I reviewed his case thoroughly, consulted specialists, researched current protocols. I created an aggressive but careful plan. Every session documented. Every decision justified. Every risk assessed."
She advanced the slide, pages of meticulous notes.
"This is proper physical therapy. Not luck. Not guesswork. Science and skill."
Next slide: independent evaluations.
"After Cole's recovery, two other orthopedic surgeons reviewed my work. Their conclusion? Not adequate; exceptional. Cole's recovery was the direct result of expert treatment, not misdiagnosis or luck."
She paused, looking directly at Derek.
"Dr. Matthews' article was lies and slander. He questioned my ethics and competence without ever reviewing my treatment notes, without consulting Cole's physicians, without any evidence whatsoever."
The crowd murmured angrily.
"So why would a respected physical therapist from Boston publish such a baseless attack?" Ellie's voice hardened. "I'll let my husband explain."
Cole stood and joined Ellie at the podium.
"My name is Cole Hansen," Cole said. "Last December, an orthopedic surgeon told me my hockey career was likely over. Torn rotator cuff, complications that made surgery extremely risky."
He clicked to the next slide, medical records, grim diagnoses,doctors' notes all saying the same thing:Severe injury. Surgery high-risk. Prognosis poor.
Rachel watched the crowd absorb this, saw the sympathy on their faces.
"The surgeons recommended I consult with a sports medicine physical therapist before making any final decisions," Cole continued. "Someone with expertise in athletic injuries. Someone who could assess whether conservative treatment was even worth attempting."
He clicked to the next slide: a consultation report with an official letterhead from Boston Sports Medicine Center.
"That consultant was PT Dr. Derek Matthews."
Nobody moved.
Rachel's lungs froze mid-inhale. She glanced at Derek, his face had gone pale.
"Now, Dr. Matthews never actually examined me in person," Cole said, his voice carrying clearly. "This was all done remotely, before I came to Evergreen Cove. He reviewed my medical records. My MRI results. My surgical consultations. All the documentation my doctors sent him. And based on that remote assessment, he wrote, and I quote from his official report: 'Patient presents with severe rotator cuff tear and extensive surrounding tissue damage. Given the complexity of the injury and patient's athletic demands, conservative physical therapy treatment is unlikely to restore function to competitive levels. Recommendation: Patient should seriously consider career transition and long-term pain management rather than pursuing PT intervention that will likely prove unsuccessful.'"
Cole paused, letting that sink in.
"He never touched my shoulder. Never did a physical assessment. Never met me face to face. Only looked at scans and paperwork from his office in Boston and told me my career was over."
He clicked to the next slide. Ellie's initial assessment from just two weeks later.
"Then I came here to Evergreen Cove. I met Ellie. She looked at the same injury, the same MRI, the same medical records that Derek had reviewed. And she said, 'I think we can fix this.'"
Rachel watched Derek's hands grip the armrests of his chair.
"And she did," Cole said simply.
The crowd was riveted, everyone leaning forward.
"So let me be very clear about why Derek Matthews attacked Ellie's credentials," Cole said, his voice filling the room. "It's not because she did anything wrong. It's because she proved him wrong."
The crowd erupted in angry murmurs.
Cole leaned forward, his eyes locked on Derek.
