Stood there until the room was silent. Then I dropped back into my chair.
Oh, Lord. I’d forgotten the tailbone. Should’ve eased into the chair. A bolt of pain ran through my backside and up my spine. I had to clench my jaw to keep from howling.
As the cross-examination resumed, I wished I’d filled that prescription. If I had a bottle of those pills, I’d have popped a dose, and dry-swallowed right up there on the bench, in front of everyone.
I did keep a bottle of ibuprofen for emergencies. And this certainly qualified. As the expert testified, I eased open a drawer at my right hand. The small plastic bottle was there.
It was empty.
Shit.
CHAPTER
75
The defense had called a solid assortment of upstanding citizens from Birmingham and Montgomery to testify about Bria Gaines’s good character and professional ability. Two locals had taken the stand on her behalf, patients who literally owed their lives to her care.
The final witness for the defense was Bria Gaines.
I watched closely as she took the stand and testified in her own defense. After a short time, I was able to relax. She was doing a good job of it.
That’s not always the case.
When providing testimony in court, some folks are their own worst enemy. Even when they’re intelligent, educated. Not everyone comes across. Some get angry, act defensive. Others freeze. I’ve seen nice, amiable people get on that stand and lose their likability factor.
And if the jury doesn’t like you, and you’re the defendant in a criminal court case? That happens. Happens a lot in criminal cases.
When it does—you should’ve stayed in your seat at the counseltable. Let your lawyer do the talking for you. That’s what advocacy is all about.
But Dr. Gaines was handling it. She and her attorney had a good back-and-forth on direct examination.
“Dr. Gaines, was the Union Springs health clinic your only option for employment after completing your residency?”
“No. I practiced in a primary care clinic in Birmingham. And I’d received offers of employment with health facilities in Alabama, Georgia, and Louisiana.”
“Why did you decide to open a practice in Union Springs?”
“Because I know there’s a serious shortage of health care providers in small towns and rural communities; it’s true everywhere in the US. And I can’t fix that, but I wanted to be part of the remedy by providing professional care where it’s needed most.”
It was a good point, and she delivered it well. Not overly pious, wasn’t demanding gratitude. Just stating the facts.
“Dr. Gaines, did you in fact perform a procedure that terminated Nova Jones’s pregnancy last spring?”
“I did.”
Just two words. Straightforward, no hesitation. I kept an eye on the jury. They were listening, waiting to hear more.
“And why did you terminate her pregnancy on that date?”
“She asked me to. Cocheta Bass—the middle school nurse, she’s deceased now—brought Nova Jones to my office. Nova asked me to help her. The help she needed was termination of pregnancy.”
There was a hush over the courtroom. I glanced over at the spectators, making sure that no one was getting ready to raise hell.
“Dr. Gaines, were you aware that state law in Alabama prohibits doctors from performing abortions?”
“Yes, but there’s one exception. In the language of the statute. It says that an abortion is permitted if the doctor determines that theabortion is necessary to prevent a severe health risk to the pregnant mother. I honestly and sincerely believed that the pregnancy was a severe health risk to Nova Jones. Due to her age, her circumstances, the circumstances surrounding the very fact of her pregnancy. I still believe it was the correct action.”
Ben Meyers turned to face the jury before he said, “No further questions.”
