Sitting down at her desk with a heavy heart, Madeleine recounted all the happy times she had spent chronicling her life as a parent, from the early days of Jake’s and Clara’s babyhood to the trials of the toddler years, and now their school-going exploits. It was a montage of sorts, all this detailing of her children’s comings and goings through her eyes, and logging their adventures as a family. She had the sudden thought then that maybe she should just unpublish it, rather than delete everything in its entirety.
After all, weren’t these a big part of her family memories?
No, she thought, no sense in looking back. Already Madeleine knew that going forward, her life, would be divided into two parts: Before the Trial and After the Trial.
And, in truth, it would probably do her sanity some good if she did just delete all of this stuff. She would then also be spared the temptation to go online and read all the angry, judgmental opinions complete strangers seemed so dedicated in making known to her. The hate mail was something that she wouldn’t miss.
Not in the least.
Logging on to her website, she pulled up the email platform that held all communications coming through theMad Mumcontact form. As expected, there were endless messages from angry people who felt it necessary to offer commentary on her testimony that day. And, as always, her parenting choices.
She didn’t read any of them. Madeleine simply clicked delete as she made her way down the list, emptying the inbox as quickly as she could.
But all of a sudden, one email in particular caught her eye. It had been flagged as of high importance and a little red flag sat next to the sender’s name. The email address didn’t ring any bells, but the subject line was enough to stop her in her tracks: Rosie O’Hara not your fault and I can prove it.
Curious, but wary that this blatantly intriguing subject line was simply another tactic to get her to open the message before cursing her out or worse, Madeleine prepared herself for a verbal—albeit virtual—assault.
Instead, she found a simple message from a City College student called Scott Ferguson.
Furrowing her brow, she felt like her synapses weren’t connecting fast enough. Was it just some medicine student who thought they had something interesting to say about the spread of infectious disease? Or perhaps another one of those flag-waving social-justice warriors so eager to attach themselves to their anti-vaccination stance, considering it a fashionable “cause.” Students seemed to be all over that kind of thing.
But, for some reason, and she truly couldn’t say why, Madeleine was intrigued. And there was no denying that their defense of this case was at rock bottom, so why not? If this kid had something to offer, be it “proof” or otherwise, how was it going to hurt at this stage?
Hitting reply to his email, she wrote,Thanks for your message. Intrigued by subject line. Pressing Send, Madeleine found herself shocked when a message popped back up in her email inbox not ten seconds later. Scott, whoever he was, was obviously online at that very moment.
At the end of the message, Scott offered his phone number for her to call. And within seconds of reading his message, Madeleine had him on the line.
I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner, but I’ve had my head down studying and haven’t really been keeping up with current news events. But I’m pretty certain that your daughter didn’t infect that little girl with measles, and I think I can prove it.
50
Striding toward the courthouse the following Monday morning, Declan told me he had a strong feeling that the judge would adjourn for deliberations first thing.
And if not, this afternoon at the latest.
Before Madeleine’s...performance on Friday, I would have definitely been worried about this. Indeed, there was still a considerable amount of angst sloshing around in my stomach about how all of this was going to go, but, at the same time, Declan’s confidence was contagious. The realization that this could all be over soon buoyed my spirits.
What didnothelp my spirits was the memory of Madeleine’s words, now seared into my consciousness, that I had made the same decision, and that by choosing not to vaccinate Rosie, I was equally responsible for what had happened to her.
It wasn’t as if I hadn’t already had that thought myself, but the fact that Madeleine felt much the same way about the MMR autism risk gave me food for thought.
If she was truly worried for her children’s safety, was genuinely terrified that the vaccine would cause harm to Jake or Clara, in the same way I’d worried about Rosie’s allergy, then how could I realistically castigate that decision?
And despite all the denials and studies debunking the autism link, it would indeed be very difficult to take a chance and simply trust that everything would be OK, when you’d seen another child change utterly in front of your own eyes.
Anecdotal, yes, but weren’t most parenting decisions borne from personal experience? Yes, Madeleine had made a mistake in not recognizing the additional risks posed anytime one of her children contracted an infection, but again, like any parent, she couldn’t realistically be on alert twenty-four hours a day.
But most of all, seeing and listening to her on the stand that day, I’d finally gotten what I’d always wanted, the one thing from Madeleine I’d always felt was missing right from the very beginning—genuine contrition. That wasn’t a simple rehash of her face-saving blog post or a halfhearted attempt to smooth things over by sending gifts; it was a genuine apology and what I could see was huge remorse on her side.
The woman had been suffering, too, possibly way more than I knew, and in more ways than one, too, when I thought about the way she’d been vilified and ridiculed, not only by the general public, but among our own community.
While, all along, everyone had my back.
And I had to admit that after all that, taking the stand and facing down her detractors took courage, even if she’d likely blown it all in the end. Much to Declan’s and the legal team’s delight. But now I couldn’t help but feel that if Madeleine Cooper was guilty of anything, it was of being her own worst enemy.
Still, we’d all come way too far to back out now, and while I might have done things differently if I’d had the opportunity to hear Madeleine’s side way back, now I needed to push on and let this play out, for Rosie’s sake at least.
The state only covered so much of her rehabilitation expenses and equipment, and I needed to do the utmost for my daughter if I wanted to give her the best chance of a full recovery. I owed it to her.
