He said there’s nothing you can do medically for a fractured coccyx. He handed me an Rx for oxycodone, which was still in the bottom of my purse. Told me to sit on an ice pack.
Right.
I was sitting in my usual seat behind the bench. Not the hardest surface I’ve perched upon, but it felt unforgiving that day. No ice pack, I’d disregarded that medical advice. I didn’t intend to make that walk from the bench into chambers looking like I’d wet myself. An ice pack would surely make a wet spot on the back of my robe.
The defense was presenting their case, starting with an expert who flew in from out of state to testify—another reason for me to show up and tough it out. Benjamin Meyers had called Dr.Steinfeld to the witness stand as his first witness. The doctor was a female OB from Virginia with an impressive résumé. During direct examination, she’d outlined a clear description of the health risks of pregnancy for adolescent girls.
Benjamin Meyers said, “Dr. Steinfeld, you’ve testified that teenagers have higher risks of eclampsia, puerperal endometritis, and systemic infections than women over twenty, is that correct?”
“Yes. That’s well established in the literature.”
“Can you describe these complications in everyday terms, for the benefit of the jury?”
The doctor explained the perils in plain language. I checked out the jury. They were paying attention.
“Dr. Steinfeld, for a female pregnant at the age of twelve or thirteen, are there any additional dangers?”
“Certainly. Pregnancy and childbirth at such an early age is especially dangerous, for both the adolescent mother and for the infant. The pregnant adolescent of twelve or thirteen is at a greater risk of death or disease due to varied causes. Bleeding during pregnancy, hemorrhage. Toxemia. When a child of twelve or thirteen gives birth, labor is prolonged and difficult. What am I forgetting? Oh—severe anemia, that’s more likely. And young adolescents are five times more likely to have eclampsia than older teens.”
“In your opinion, are the conditions you’ve described severe risks to the health of the pregnant adolescent?”
“They are. And there are risks to mental health as well. Greater likelihood of postpartum depression and suicidal ideation.”
“What are the risks to the infant born to a mother who’s twelve or thirteen?”
The witness was solemn as she turned to face the jury. “Much higher risks of prematurity. Of birth defects. Low birth weight. And neonatal mortality.”
Meyers wrapped it up pretty fast after that. I caught him exchanging a satisfied look with Bria Gaines at the counsel table; their expert had performed well on the stand.
I said, “The prosecution may inquire.”
The DA stood up, stepped around the counsel table. “Doctor, you just testified that a baby born to an adolescent mother has a higher risk of death. Correct? Higher risk of mortality?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “That is a well-established fact.”
“But let’s get something straight. If a doctor aborts the baby of an adolescent mother—that increases the risk of death all the way up to 100 percent! Am I wrong about that? Because the abortion kills that baby. Correct?”
The doctor paused, frowning. “I would take issue with the characterization inherent in your question. You refer to the unborn fetus as a baby. An abortion terminates a pregnancy, it doesn’t kill a human baby.”
Robert Reeves did a turnaround for the benefit of the whole audience: jury, spectators, his co-counsel. So that they could see the incredulous expression he wore.
“So you don’t think a pregnant woman has a baby in there—is that right? When my wife was nine months pregnant—because she delivered ten days past her due date—she didn’t have a baby in her womb? That’s what you’re saying? Because my wife sure thought she did.”
“Objection, argumentative,” Meyers called out.
“Sustained,” I said.
Dr. Steinfeld answered, despite my ruling. “It was a fetus. Until the pregnant woman gives birth, she carries a fetus.”
Reeves rubbed the back of his neck. He was heating up—literally—just as I’ve seen him do in court for years. “Doctor, when you told us all of your education and experience, you left somethingout, didn’t you? You’ve worked for Planned Parenthood up in Massachusetts, isn’t that right?”
Someone in the jury gasped. The DA had struck a nerve, scored for his side. There are folks in Alabama who think Planned Parenthood is the devil incarnate.
And plenty of other people who support their work. A white man in the gallery with longish black hair unfolded a sign and lifted it over his head. In bold black print on a pink background, it readSAVE BRIA GAINES.
In the blink of an eye, my courtroom was out of control again. A woman sitting in the row ahead of the sign bearer grabbed the banner and tried to tear it into pieces.
“Ross!” I called, but he was already on the move. My bailiff and a deputy hustled the battling activists out of court, but the noise level had risen—with chatter, I guess you’d call it. I stood up, slammed my gavel. Called for order in the court.
