Garza shifted uncomfortably in his chair, saying finally, “It’s a term used to describe those few seconds before you die. You know that death is impending. You know there’s no way to avoid it.”
O’Mara linked her hands behind her back, said, “Doctor, an example of psychic horror is what that American journalist felt before he was beheaded by terrorists, isn’t that right?”
“If you say so.”
“Wouldn’t you agree that when Jessie Falk’s heartbeat tripled, she was scared out of her mind? That during those two to three minutes of horrific pain and terror, she experienced psychic horror?”
“She may have.”
“Only two to three minutes of horrific pain and terror?”
O’Mara paused. A rather long, uncomfortable pause.
Yuki watched the hands of the clock move slowly, knowing what O’Mara was doing. She was making sure everyone in the room felt how long it had taken for Jessie Falk to die.
Chapter 72
CINDY WAS THERE in the courtroom’s press row, her fingers scrambling over her keyboard, getting down most of O’Mara’s cross-examination. It was sharp, incisive, fat-free, and merciless. One of the best interrogations she’d ever witnessed. This girl is good, every bit as talented as Larry Kramer.
“Doctor, you’ve told us that the death of Jessie Falk was a mistake. Now tell us this. How did this mistake happen?”
“I really don’t know how the epinephrine got into her IV bag. It wasn’t ordered, but look,” the doctor said, leaning forward in the witness chair, exasperation coloring his face, “doctors and nurses are human. Mistakes happen. People die. Sometimes a bad wind blows.”
There was a gasp throughout the courtroom. Cindy’s nimble fingers paused on the keys. What had he just said? A bad wind blows?
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
The collective gasp faded, and the room became as silent as a desert at noon. No one coughed, crossed their legs, or crumpled a candy wrapper.
O’Mara asked almost casually, “Did you have anything to do with this ‘bad wind,’ Doctor?”
Lawrence Kramer shot to his feet. “Objection! Counsel is badgering the witness. This has to stop.”
“Overruled. Sit down, Mr. Kramer.”
“What are you accusing me of?” Garza asked.
“You don’t get to ask the questions, Dr. Garza,” said O’Mara. “Fourteen of the twenty people whose families I represent were treated by you or died on your watch —”
Garza snarled, “How dare you?”
“Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer.”
“Dr. Garza, answer the question.”
“I’ll ask again,” O’Mara said, her voice level, constrained. “Did you have anything to do with the deaths of those people?”
Garza drew himself up in the witness seat and stared hard at O’Mara. Cindy was thinking, He would shoot her if he could.
“I take the Fifth,” said Garza.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, I stand on the Fifth Amendment.”
Shock froze the faces of the jury; then the room seemed to explode with voices. Judge Bevins banged his gavel over and over.
“Thank you,” said O’Mara, a fleeting smile crossing her face. She even snuck a look at Larry Kramer. “I have nothing further for this witness.”