Laura saw his chest rise as he took a breath to continue, so she jumped in. “I wonder, Dr. Queller, if you understand that your policies have real-world implications.”
“They are not policies, dear. They are theories assigned to what you yourself have described as tribal morality.”
“But, Doctor—”
“If you find my conclusions cold, then I would warn you that statistics are, in fact, a cold mistress.” He seemed to enjoy the turn of phrase. It had appeared in many of his editorials and essays. “Using emotion or hysterics to interpret the datum opens up the entire field to ridicule. You might as well ask a janitor to explain how the volcanic eruption at Beerenberg will influence weather patterns in Guam.”
He seemed very smug about the pronouncement. Laura yearned to be the one who slapped that self-satisfied grin off of his face. She said, “You say that your theories are not policies, but in fact, your economic theories have been used to affect policy.”
“You flatter me,” he said, though in a way that indicated the flattery was warranted.
“Your work influenced the Lanterman-Petris-Short Act in ’67.”
Martin scowled at the comment, but then turned to the audience and said, “For the benefit of the Europeans, you should explain that the Patients’ Bill of Rights was a landmark piece of legislation in the state of California. Among other things, it helped end the practice of institutionalizing people in mental hospitals against their will.”
“Didn’t the bill also cut funding to state mental hospitals?”
The smirk on his lips said he knew where this was going. “The funding cuts were temporary. Then-governor Reagan reinstated the funds the following year.”
“To previous levels?”
“You’ve spent your life in front of a chalkboard, Maplecroft. It’s different in the real world. The turning of government policy is as the turning of a battleship. You need a lot of room to make corrections.”
“Some would call them mistakes rather than corrections.” Laura held up her hand to stop his retort. “And another correction was that the following year, the criminal justice system saw twice as many mentally ill people entering into, and staying in, the criminal justice system.”
“Well—”
“The overcrowding of the California penal system has given rise to violent gangs, led to the re-incarceration of thousands and helped incubate an explosion of HIV cases.” Laura turned to the audience. “Churchill told us that ‘those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.’ My colleague seems to be saying, ‘Repeating our history is the only way we can stay in power.’”
“Patients!” He said the word so loudly that it echoed against the back wall.
In the ensuing silence, Laura asked, “Sir?”
“Doctor.” Martin smoothed down his tie. He visibly worked to control his temper. “This law that you’re talking about was rightly called a Patients’ Bill of Rights. Those who left state mental hospitals were either moved into group homes or received out-patient treatment so that they could become useful members of society.”
“Were they capable of being useful?”
“Of course they were. This is the problem with socialists. You believe the government’s job is to coddle man from cradle to grave. That’s the very type of faulty reasoning that has turned half of America into a welfare state.” He leaned forward, addressing the audience. “I believe—and most Americans believe—every man deserves a chance to stand on his own two feet. It’s called the American Dream, and it’s available to anyone who’s willing to work for it.”
Laura indicated her cane. “What if they can’t stand on their own two feet?”
“For God’s sake, woman. It’s a figure of speech.” He turned back to the audience. “The group home setting allows—”
“What group homes? The ones run by Queller Healthcare Services?”
That threw him off, but only for a moment. “The company is privately held in a blind trust. I have no say over any of the decisions made.”
“Are you not aware that Queller Healthcare derives upwards of thirty percent of its annual profits from the management of group homes for the mentally ill?” She held up her hands in an open shrug. “What a wonderful coincidence that your position as an economic advisor to the state allowed you to advocate that government money should be diverted into the private, for-profit healthcare industry which has been the source of so much of your family’s wealth.”
Martin sighed. He gave a dramatic shake of his head.
“Your company is about to go public, is it not? You took on some very high-level investors going into the offering to make sure your numbers were up.” This was the reason behind the now of it all, why there was no turning back. “Your family’s fortune will grow considerably when the Queller model is expanded to the rest of the United States. Isn’t that right?”
Martin sighed again, shook his head again. He glanced at the crowd as if to pull them to his side. “I feel you have hijacked this panel with your own agenda, Maplecroft. It matters not one lick what I say. You seem to have your mind made up. I’m an evil man. Capitalism is an evil system. We’d all be better off if we picked flowers and braided them into our hair.”
Laura said the words she had lied for, stolen for, kidnapped for and finally flown nearly six thousand miles to say to Martin Queller’s face: “Robert David Juneau.”
Again, Martin was caught off guard, but he made an adroit recovery, once more addressing the audience. “For those of you who do not read the newspapers in northern California, Robert David Juneau was a black construction worker who—”