What We Find
Page 97
Then, finally, the plaintiff’s attorney offered a motion of summary judgment. Steve whispered to her that meant they’d go with the judge’s decision rather than a jury. They had no doubt heard Judge White wasn’t crazy about doctors.
“Your Honor, we make a motion to dismiss,” Steve said.
“Sit down, Mr. Rubin.”
The courtroom sank into dark quiet. The judge took a deep breath before he spoke.
“My heart is very heavy today,” he said. “I’ve read the claim, the counterclaim, all the motions and pleas. Inclusive in those materials was the accident report. In the plaintiff’s claim the focus is on two sixteen-year-old boys but in fact there were five—it was a catastrophic event, all arriving in the emergency room critical, one of them beyond help upon arrival. I preside over many civil malpractice and wrongful death suits. Many of them emerge from emergency rooms and emergency operating rooms. There is not only a reconstructed timeline provided by the defendant but notes from paramedics, RNs, attending physicians and ER physicians, not to mention the OR staff. From the time the first of the injured arrived in the emergency room until the fifth patient arrived, only six minutes had elapsed. From the time triage was complete until the first patient was anesthetized and the surgeon at the ready, four more minutes. From the time patient Markiff was assessed and sent to radiology for his head CT—two and a half minutes. There were also other decisions and designations made within this time frame—one boy sent to surgery for splenectomy while yet another was put into the care of an orthopedic surgeon and on to surgery to deal with two life-threatening broken femurs and yet another put on life support for possible organ harvest.
“If anyone had trouble following that—the time from the very first of five injured arriving in the emergency room until Dr. Sullivan entered the OR suite—ten minutes. If you could break it down, she probably had less than thirty seconds to make a decision. Her notes are written by the attending physician and verbally recorded. I not only looked at the accident reports—police, paramedic, fire and rescue—but the postmortem reports. And I must tell you, the entire scene must have been horrific, and yet the record is not only flawless, it is flawlessly consistent. The only report lacking in this vast collection of documentation is a blood test done on the emergency room and operating room staff to measure drug or alcohol use. It was not done because there was no indication. Fifteen emergency room and operating room employees were deposed and under oath stated that the physicians in question appeared rested, sober and efficient.
“I pored over all of this detailed information and yet the most telling and crucial fact came down to a single number—the time of death. Rory Busch in the operating room and Carl Markiff in radiology for a CT both expired ten minutes after arriving in the emergency room at the exact same time. Well, resuscitation began on both patients at exactly the same time and continued for several minutes. Their injuries and cause of death were nearly identical as well—both died of head injuries that led to massive brain hemorrhage. This fact alone made it physically impossible for Dr. Sullivan to make either choice work, although the testimony of the staff establishes that her decision to take the unconscious lad to surgery first is indeed protocol.
“But let me say this—I believe it needs to be said. For any doctor to enter a melee such as that emergency room, filled with critical teenagers, make a sound decision, move to intervention in the midst of chaos and try to save a patient under such dismal circumstances and against such overpowering odds is nothing short of heroic.
“Because we have access to the many reports and depositions, I don’t feel anything further can be gained by reading or reciting them aloud in this courtroom. I’m dismissing this case with prejudice. I find no case here. Mr. and Mrs. Markiff, my deepest sympathy for your tragic loss. We are adjourned.” His gavel struck and the courtroom began to stir, first with voices, then cries of happiness, cries of devastation from the Markiffs.
“Your Honor, we make a motion to dismiss,” Steve said.
“Sit down, Mr. Rubin.”
The courtroom sank into dark quiet. The judge took a deep breath before he spoke.
“My heart is very heavy today,” he said. “I’ve read the claim, the counterclaim, all the motions and pleas. Inclusive in those materials was the accident report. In the plaintiff’s claim the focus is on two sixteen-year-old boys but in fact there were five—it was a catastrophic event, all arriving in the emergency room critical, one of them beyond help upon arrival. I preside over many civil malpractice and wrongful death suits. Many of them emerge from emergency rooms and emergency operating rooms. There is not only a reconstructed timeline provided by the defendant but notes from paramedics, RNs, attending physicians and ER physicians, not to mention the OR staff. From the time the first of the injured arrived in the emergency room until the fifth patient arrived, only six minutes had elapsed. From the time triage was complete until the first patient was anesthetized and the surgeon at the ready, four more minutes. From the time patient Markiff was assessed and sent to radiology for his head CT—two and a half minutes. There were also other decisions and designations made within this time frame—one boy sent to surgery for splenectomy while yet another was put into the care of an orthopedic surgeon and on to surgery to deal with two life-threatening broken femurs and yet another put on life support for possible organ harvest.
“If anyone had trouble following that—the time from the very first of five injured arriving in the emergency room until Dr. Sullivan entered the OR suite—ten minutes. If you could break it down, she probably had less than thirty seconds to make a decision. Her notes are written by the attending physician and verbally recorded. I not only looked at the accident reports—police, paramedic, fire and rescue—but the postmortem reports. And I must tell you, the entire scene must have been horrific, and yet the record is not only flawless, it is flawlessly consistent. The only report lacking in this vast collection of documentation is a blood test done on the emergency room and operating room staff to measure drug or alcohol use. It was not done because there was no indication. Fifteen emergency room and operating room employees were deposed and under oath stated that the physicians in question appeared rested, sober and efficient.
“I pored over all of this detailed information and yet the most telling and crucial fact came down to a single number—the time of death. Rory Busch in the operating room and Carl Markiff in radiology for a CT both expired ten minutes after arriving in the emergency room at the exact same time. Well, resuscitation began on both patients at exactly the same time and continued for several minutes. Their injuries and cause of death were nearly identical as well—both died of head injuries that led to massive brain hemorrhage. This fact alone made it physically impossible for Dr. Sullivan to make either choice work, although the testimony of the staff establishes that her decision to take the unconscious lad to surgery first is indeed protocol.
“But let me say this—I believe it needs to be said. For any doctor to enter a melee such as that emergency room, filled with critical teenagers, make a sound decision, move to intervention in the midst of chaos and try to save a patient under such dismal circumstances and against such overpowering odds is nothing short of heroic.
“Because we have access to the many reports and depositions, I don’t feel anything further can be gained by reading or reciting them aloud in this courtroom. I’m dismissing this case with prejudice. I find no case here. Mr. and Mrs. Markiff, my deepest sympathy for your tragic loss. We are adjourned.” His gavel struck and the courtroom began to stir, first with voices, then cries of happiness, cries of devastation from the Markiffs.
