There was no reply from the witness stand. Then Walters cajoled:
‘Dr Lazarus, we are very anxiously awaiting a reply. Have you ever “helped” another patient?’
Seth paused and with quiet anger answered, ‘Yes, Mr Walters. Out of mercy.’
The prosecutor took off his glasses and declared, ‘No further questions.’
Deadly silence filled the room as Seth returned to his seat.
A moment later, Bennett rose to offer the concluding plea.
He had always thought it unfair that the defense had to speak first and allow the prosecution the last word. Jurors, however well intentioned, were mere reeds in the wind – especially at this late hour of the day. They were more likely to be swayed by whatever impression they were left with at the end.
So he’d better be goddamn good.
‘Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. We have heard a lot of emotional words thrown back and forth in this courtroom. Indeed, the facts might almost have been lost in a smokescreen of moral and ethical questions that have nothing whatever to do with the case of Dr Lazarus.
‘I would have thought it sufficient that Hector Campos had confessed under oath to killing his brother before Dr Lazarus arrived. I’ll grant the prosecution’s citation of the “law of impossibility,” but I put it to you that mercy killing – or, as some of my fellow doctors prefer to call it, “death and dignity” – has been practiced since time immemorial. Job in his wretchedness called out for death. And though it is true that God relieved his suffering, there is no other record of divine intervention in any cancer ward I know of.
‘The defendant, Dr Lazarus, has conceded that he intervened in cases where the patient had no hope of life, and was in desperate pain.’
He paused for breath, and continued softly.
‘In any case, Dr Lazarus did not kill Captain Campos. For after his mutilating, agonizing, sense-depriving injuries in Vietnam, Captain Campos was not really alive. The defense rests.’
Attorney General Walters had three silver bullets in his gun and he intended to fire them all.
He started with the AMA.
‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I should like to comply with the judge’s wish that we restrict this argument to the accused, and so I’ll merely mention in passing, as you heard at trial, the American Medical Association’s 1973 policy statement entitled “The Physician and the Dying Patient.” It declared, and I quote: “The intentional termination of the life of one human being by another” – and here they even use the words “mercy killing” – “is contrary to that which the medical profession stands for.” Unquote.
‘But forget the AMA. You may recall the defense’s attempt to rope in the Catholic Church by asking Dean Holmes about a single statement made by Pope Pius many years ago. But let us also bear in mind the words of Father O’Connor, the Catholic chaplain of the V.A. Hospital in which Captain Campos died—’
He raised his voice and read, ‘“The Church is now and always has been against the taking of life in any circumstances.”
‘Let me hasten to add that, as we heard at trial, Jewish theologians are no less emphatic on this matter. Maimonides – himself a doctor – wrote that “a person who is dying should be regarded as a living person in all respects.”’
He paused, then added, ‘And we heard evidence that the Koran explicitly states that euthanasia, even if requested by the victim, is a sin, and those who perform it should be, and I quote, “excluded from the heaven for ever.”
‘The defendant has admitted under oath that he had “helped” people to die. Put another way, he has made a subjective decision as to who lives and who does not. Surely, this is only God’s prerogative. Once upon a time the Nazis did this to six million people and the entire civilized world cried out for their punishment.
‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we know we are not gods. I pray you will not let us act like Nazis. The prosecution rests.’
The hour was late. The judge earnestly instructed the jury to ignore the emotive pleas from both sides. To pay no heed to the defense’s ‘philosophizing about life and death’ nor the prosecution’s innovation of the bizarre trinity of the AMA, the Catholic Church, and Hitler – none of whom was on trial in these proceedings. They were merely to decide whether Dr Lazarus was guilty of murder or intent to murder and should therefore be punished.
Nobody slept that night. Nobody.
Though doubtful that a verdict would be rendered even by late afternoon, the principals were all present by the stroke of nine the next morning. Twenty minutes after twelve the jury entered.
The room seemed deprived of oxygen, as if those in it had inhaled all the available air.
Judge Novak took the bench.
‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,’ he asked, ‘have you reached a verdict?’
The foreman, Arthur Zinn, a dentist by profession, rose and said, ‘We have, Your Honor. We find the defendant guilty—’
Bedlam erupted. Novak vigorously hammered his gavel and demanded order. The foreman obviously had not concluded his remarks. When some measure of calm had been restored, the justice once again inquired, ‘Yes, Dr Zinn, you were saying …’
‘As you ordered us, we based our guilty verdict on the letter of the law. But we have noted unanimously to ask you to impose the most lenient sentence you can.’
The jury had shifted the onus completely to the magistrate. He could send Seth to prison for the rest of his days, or to his house for dinner that night.
‘All right,’ Novak responded gruffly, glaring at the lawyers, ‘they’ve asked for leniency. I’ll hear a plea of mitigation from both of you – and make it brief.’
Walters rose.
‘I think it is pretty clear, Your Honor, that Captain Campos was far from the first one “treated” by this so-called “doctor.” So I think the defendant has the deaths of many people on his head.’
‘All right,’ said the judge impatiently. ‘How about you, Dr Landsmann?’
‘Your Honor, the defendant has a spotless record. We plead not only for his sake and that of his wife and family, but for the hundreds of sick people he has conscientiously treated all these years, that you make your sentence as merciful as possible.’
‘All right,’ said Novak once again, ‘adjourned until 3 P.M. today.’ He slammed his gavel and was gone.
It was twenty after four when the judge reappeared and took the bench.
‘Will the defendant rise.’
Seth stood up, leaning on the table before him, unsteady on his feet. It was clear from his eyes that Judge Novak was incensed. Seth’s head began to spin.
‘Dr Lazarus,’ the judge began, ‘the jury has found you guilty. But I would like to add that the attorneys on both sides are also guilty of making this a question of philosophy, religion – and a lot of hokum. They have done you no great service.
‘Despite this, one thing has come through to me. You are sincerely committed to alleviating human suffering. No human being should be tortured, whether by a Nazi – or a rule book. I therefore sentence you to three years – suspended.’
‘Ladies and gentleman, let’s all take our consciences and go home.’
52
The evening after the trial, Seth, Judy, Barney, and Bennett had a victory feast at Le Perroquet.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Seth kept murmuring to himself as Judy held him tightly, ‘I can’t believe I’m going home tonight. It was like a bad dream.’
‘I’ll wake you up,’ Judy said lovingly.
The Lazaruses were so anxious to get home and be alone that after the Baked Alaska they pleaded tiredness and went off, their arms around each other.
That left Bennett and Barney on their own – and half a magnum of champagne yet to consume.
‘Landsmann, you were brilliant out there,’ Barney congratulated him.
‘No, you’re wrong,’ Bennett answered soberly (though getting drunk). ‘Every goddamn trial is like a roulette
wheel. There’s no way of picking the winning number in advance. It depends on the day, the mood of the jury, the attitude of the judge – and most of all, Lady Luck. I mean if medicine isn’t an exact science, law is ten times more of a crapshoot.’
‘Are you trying to tell me you don’t like it? I mean, your career’s gone up like a skyrocket.’
‘Yeah,’ Bennett answered wryly, ‘that’s probably the biggest reason I can’t stand it. I sometimes hate myself for what I have to do – like rough up medical expert witnesses. You know, break them down, bedazzle them with facts that aren’t always strictly relevant – even use my medical expertise to intimidate the poor, well-intentioned schmuck who’s been roped in to perform the unthinkable – to tell the truth.’
‘You really miss the O.R., don’t you?’
‘Not really,’ Ben replied unconvincingly, and an instant later confessed, ‘Yeah, I do and it’s not just the surgery, its the satisfaction of – I don’t know – healing. I mean, the law’s just a profession to me – medicine was a calling.’
He took another swallow of champagne and changed the subject.
‘By the way, how’s your book coming?’
‘I’m pretty close to a first draft. What makes you suddenly think of that?’
‘Just the fact that so goddamn few doctors were willing to testify on behalf of the so-called “fraternity”. So much for the Hippocratic Oath.’
‘Don’t worry, Ben, it’ll all be there – the good, the bad – and even the ridiculous. But you have to understand – as I keep trying to – that doctors are just frail human beings. And no human being is immune from fear.’
‘C’mon, Barn, doctors may be a lot of things, but you couldn’t call them human beings – they might sue for slander.’
Barney laughed.
‘You know something Landsmann? You sound like a combination of a depressed lawyer and a disillusioned doctor. That’s one for the record books.’
Bennett watched the bubbles in his glass slowly evanesce.
In the silence that ensured, Barney realized for the first time how unhappy Bennett was.
Who are his friends – besides Laura and me? And sometimes I even think he holds us at arm’s length. Why has he dated a million women and never latched on to just one?
‘Ben, can I ask you a serious question?’
‘At this hour of the night?’ He smiled.
Barney hesitated for a moment and then, overcoming his diffidence, finally asked, ‘Why are you such an incredible loner?’
Bennett was not fazed. ‘You’re the head doctor,’ he replied, ‘you tell me.’
‘I can’t, that’s why I’m asking. I can’t bear to see my best friend so miserable. For chrissake, talk to me – I won’t be judgmental. Where are the women in your life?’
Bennett once again stared into his glass.
‘What woman could relate to me, Barn? To the Jews I’m a black, to the blacks I’m a Jew, to the whites I’m a black, to the soul brothers I’m a pecker. I live in a kind of no-man’s-land. Where do I fit in?’
Barney was hesitant, wondering if after all this time, he dared make his best friend face the truth about himself.
‘You know, Landsmann, they’re not all that way.’
‘Who? What the hell are you talking about?’
‘The subject was women, Doctor. And I was merely offering both a professional and a personal opinion that all women aren’t like your mother.’
‘Hannah?’
‘No, old buddy, I mean the woman who gave you life … and then walked out of it.’
Bennett suddenly lost his temper, and shot back, ‘That’s a lot of psychiatric bullshit, Livingston. I don’t—’
Barney interrupted him. ‘Hey, I’ve heard you say you didn’t give a damn about her a million times. But honest to God, Ben, you’re lying – especially to yourself.’
‘Damn, you shrinks are all the same. What would you be without “mothers”?’
‘Exactly what you were without yours.’
Barney paused for a moment to allow the mood to settle. ‘Listen,’ he said softly, ‘they’re not all like Lorraine. They don’t all disappear and leave you with a hole in your heart …’
Both men looked at each other, neither knowing what to say next. Finally Bennett spoke.
‘You know what hurts the most? That you could see it and I couldn’t.’
The wounded expression on his friend’s face instantly filled Barney with remorse.
‘Hey, I’m sorry, man. I stepped out of line.’
Bennett shook his head. ‘No, Barn. That’s what real friends are for.’ And then added, ‘Which is another thing you taught me.’
Their silence was broken by Mark Sylbert’s metallic voice. ‘Excuse me, Ben—’
Both men looked up, and from the ineffably sad expression on his black colleague’s face, Sylbert came to an incorrect conclusion.
‘Oh – I guess Barney’s just told you. Ben, I’m sorry, I’m very, very sorry.’
Bennett looked up, baffled. ‘Mark, what the hell are you talking about?’
‘You mean, you haven’t heard about your dad?’
Instinctively standing up, poised to respond to whatever was the emergency, he responded, ‘No – is anything wrong?’
‘He’s dead,’ Sylbert said, in the closest approximation of a whisper his machine could manage. ‘He died last night. An oncoming car jumped the rail and hit the driver’s side. Your mother’s not hurt badly – just in terrible shock. She was even able to speak to Herschel in the ambulance. And he made her promise—’
‘Promise what?’
‘That … she would keep whatever happened from you till the trial was over.’
Sylbert now stood there helpless, not knowing what to say or do.
Barney rose and put his arms around his wounded friend.
‘Come on, Ben,’ he said softly, ‘I’ll go home with you.’
53
Oh Lord and King, who are full of compassion, Receive, in Thy great loving kindness, the soul of Herschel Landsmann, who has been gathered unto his people.
It was a searingly hot afternoon. Tears and perspiration mingled on the faces of the mourners at Herschel Landsmann’s funeral.
There were nearly a hundred people, but most of the deceased’s acquaintances and employees kept a respectful distance from the grave to allow Hannah, convulsed with sobs, and Bennett, on whose shoulders she was leaning, to bid farewell in privacy.
Herschel’s brother, Steve, was also present but, characteristically, stood with his wife on the opposite side of the grave.
An unwitting referee, a clean-shaven rabbi in a skullcap, stood at the far end, almost breathless in the suffocating air.
‘Herschel requested that there be no eulogy for him …’ He glanced uneasily at Steve, whose frown made it apparent that he had tried to countermand this final wish.
‘However,’ the rabbi continued, ‘I am sure that he would not object to my reading a brief passage from the Saying of the Fathers: “When a man dies, neither silver nor gold accompany him – only righteousness and good deeds. For it is said, when you walk it shall lead you; when you lie down it shall watch over you; and when you wake it shall speak with you.”
‘Herschel Landsmann has finished his days on earth. May his memory still live on in the hearts of those who loved him.’
The rabbi looked to his right and to his left and declared softly, ‘It is time for the Mourner’s Kaddish.’
As Steve took a step closer to the grave, Bennett whispered, ‘Are you okay, Mom?’
Hannah nodded. ‘Yes, yes. Say Kaddish for him, Ben.’
Despite her reassurances, Bennett was hesitant to let go of his mother. Barney hurried forward and put his arm around her.
Ben approached the grave and looked toward the rabbi for a signal to begin.
Just then he heard Steve say, ‘Come on, Bennett, this is carrying things too far. Let me pray for him.’
Steve tur
ned to the rabbi for support.
‘I don’t understand,’ the clergyman said.
Steve looked across the grave at Bennett. ‘You see, he doesn’t know why you’re there. You have no reason to—’
‘Excuse me,’ the rabbi interrupted, and then, indicating Ben with a nod, responded, ‘but is this not Herschel Landsmann’s son?’
Before Steve could begin to protest Bennett’s legitimacy, Hannah cried out, ‘Leave him, Stefan, he’s Herschel’s boy. Herschel loved him with his life. You go away!’
Steve was stunned into chastened silence. He remained mute as Bennett asked, ‘May I begin?’
The rabbi held out his prayer book to Bennett.
‘No, thank you, sir. I know it by heart.’
Now, mustering all his self-control, he recited with full voice, ‘Yisgadal ve yiskadash shmei raboh …’
In a sense Bennett’s act of piety was a dual one. For nearly thirty years earlier, Herschel had stood at his natural father’s grave and said the prayer for him, as surrogate for Bennett.
And in this hour of terrible sorrow, that act of love was once again performed.
54
Professor Laura Castellano felt uneasy.
There she was, nearly forty years old and sitting in an obstetrician’s waiting room alongside girls almost young enough to be her daughter. Barney had asked that she let him come along, but she refused. His excitement was already making her a nervous wreck at home.
Moreover, she was worried that Dr Sidney Hastings (‘the best, the absolute positive best,’ Barney’s zealous research had concluded) would misconstrue the mad psychiatrist’s passionate involvement with the welfare of his unborn child as meddling.
And if the truth be known, Hastings was not all that flattered to have been chosen, even by so distinguished a couple as Laura and Barney. For he knew physicians are notoriously nervous and difficult parents. And to deal with two might be beyond the pale of reason.
He was not wrong. For Laura, thanks to her specialty, was a complete and up-to-date catalogue of potential disasters in the uterus.
‘Could it be a Trisomy-13, Doctor? How early can you detect spina bifida or Down’s? How often will you want to scan?’