Several of the jurors were now nodding agreement, and Craig felt his pulse quicken and a cramp grip his lower bowels. His fear about Tony connecting with the jury was seemingly already coming to pass. It was indicative of the whole sorry affair. Just when he felt things couldn't get any worse, they did.

"What I'm going to do," Tony continued, gesticulating with his right hand, "is to prove to you four basic points. Number one: By the doctor's own employees, I am going to show that Dr. Bowman owed a duty to the deceased. Number two: With the testimony of three recognized experts from three of our own area's renowned institutions, I will show you what a reasonable doctor would do in the circumstance the deceased found herself in the evening of the fifth of September, 2005. Number three: With the testimony of the plaintiff, of one of the doctor's employees, and of one of the experts who happened to be involved in the actual case, I will show you how Dr. Bowman negligently failed to act as a reasonable doctor would have acted. And number four: how Dr. Bowman's conduct was the proximate cause of the patient's sad death. That's it in a nutshell."

Perspiration appeared on Craig's forehead, and his throat felt suddenly dry; he needed to use the restroom, but he didn't dare. He poured himself some water from a pitcher in front of him with an embarrassingly shaky hand and took a drink.

"Now we are back on terra firma," Randolph whispered. He obviously was not as moved as Craig, which was some consolation. But Craig knew there was more.

"What I have just outlined," Tony continued, "is the core of a garden-variety case of medical malpractice. It's what the fancy, expensive lawyers like my opponent like to call the 'prima facie' case. I call it the core, or the guts. A lot of lawyers, like a lot of doctors, have a fondness to use words nobody understands, particularly Latin words. But this isn't a garden-variety case. It's much worse, and that's why I feel so strongly about it. Now, the defense is going to want you to believe, and they have witnesses to suggest, that Dr. Bowman is this great, compassionate, charitable doctor with a picture-perfect nuclear family, but the reality is far different."

"Objection!" Randolph said. "Dr. Bowman's private life is not an issue. Counsel is trying to impugn my client."

Judge Davidson stared down at Tony after taking off his reading glasses. "You are straying afield here, son. Is the direction you are taking relevant to this specific allegation of medical negligence?"

"Absolutely, You Honor. It is key."

"You and your client's case are going to be in a lot of hot water if it is not. Objection overruled. Proceed."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Tony said before reconnecting with the jurors. "On the night of the fifth of September, 2005, when Patience Stanhope was to meet her untimely end, Dr. Craig Bowman was not snuggled in his cozy, posh Newton home with his darling family. Oh, no! You will learn by a witness who was his employee and girlfriend that he was with her in his in-town love nest."

"Objection!" Randolph said with uncharacteristic forcefulness. "Inflammatory and hearsay. I cannot allow this type of language."

Craig felt blood rush to his face. He wanted to turn and connect with Alexis, but he couldn't get himself to do it, not with the humiliation he was experiencing.

"Sustained! Counsel, stick to the facts without inflammatory embellishments until the witness testifies."

"Of course, Your Honor. It is just hard to rein in my emotion."

"You'll be in contempt if you don't."

"Understood," Tony said. He looked back at the jurors. "What you will hear testimony to is that Dr. Bowman's lifestyle had changed dramatically."

"Objection," Randolph said. "Private life, lifestyle – none of this has relevance to the issue at hand. This is a medical malpractice trial."

"Good lord!" Judge Davidson exclaimed with frustration. "Counsels, approach the bench!"

Both Randolph and Tony dutifully went to the side of the judge's box, out of earshot of everyone in the courtroom and, most important, beyond the range of both the court reporter and the jury.

"At this rate, this trial is going to take a year, for Christ's sake," Judge Davidson groused. "My entire month's schedule will have to be trashed."

"I cannot allow this farce to continue," Randolph complained.

"It's prejudicial to my client."

"I keep losing my train of thought with these interruptions," Tony grumbled.

"Pipe down! I don't want to hear any more pissing and moaning out of either one of you. Mr. Fasano, give me some justification for this excursion from the relevant medical facts!"

"It was the doctor's decision to go to the deceased's home on a house call instead of agreeing to the plaintiff's request to take his wife directly to the hospital even though, as the doctor himself will testify, he suspected a heart attack."

"So what?" Judge Davidson questioned. "I assume the doctor responded to the emergency without undue delay."

"We're willing to stipulate that, but Dr. Bowman didn't make house calls before he had his midlife crisis, or 'awakening', as he calls it, and before he moved into town with his lover. My experts will all testify that the delay caused by making the house call was critical in Patience Stanhope's death."

Judge Davidson ruminated on this. As he did so, he absently rolled his lower lip into his mouth such that his mustache reached halfway down his chin.

"Provider lifestyle and mindset are not the issues in medical malpractice," Randolph asserted. "Legally, the question is simply whether there was a deviation from the standard of care, causing a compensable injury."

"Generally you are right, but I believe Mr. Fasano has a valid point, provided subsequent testimony supports it. Can you say that's unequivocally the case?"

"To the letter," Tony said with assurance.

"Then it will be up to the jury to decide. Objection overruled. You may proceed, Mr. Fasano, but I warn you again about inflammatory language."

"Thank you, Your Honor."

Randolph returned to his seat, ostensibly annoyed. "We're going to have to weather the storm," he said. "The judge is allowing Fasano unusual discretion. On the positive side, it will add fodder for the appeal if there is ultimately a finding for the plaintiff."

Craig nodded, but the fact that Randolph, for the first time, was voicing the possibility of a negative outcome added to Craig's growing despondency and pessimism.

"Now, where the devil was I?" Tony said after regaining the podium. He shuffled through his note cards briefly, adjusted the sleeves of his silk jacket so that his shirt cuffs presented just enough and his clunky gold watch was just visible. He raised his eyes. "In the third grade, I learned I was terrible speaking in front of groups, and it hasn't changed much, so I hope you give me a little slack."

A number of the jurors smiled and nodded in sympathy.

"We will present testimony that Dr. Bowman's professional life changed dramatically almost two years ago. Prior to that, he had essentially a traditional fee-for-service practice. Then he switched.

He joined and has essentially taken over a successful concierge practice."

"Objection!" Randolph said. "This trial is not about style of practice."

Judge Davidson sighed with frustration. "Mr. Fasano, is Dr. Bowman's style of practice germane to the issue we discussed at the sidebar?"

"Absolutely, Your Honor."

"Objection overruled. Proceed."

"Now," Tony said, engaging the jury, "I'm looking at a number of faces here that look a little blank when I mention the term concierge medicine. And you know why? Because there are a lot of people who don't know what it is, including me before I took on this case. It's also called retainer medicine, meaning those patients who want to be included in the practice have to cough up some big bucks up front each and every year. And we're talking about some big money with some of these practices, upwards of twenty thousand dollars a head per year! Now, Dr. Bowman and his mostly retired partner, Dr. Ethan Cohen, don't charge that much, but they charge a lot. As you can well imagine, this style of practice can only exist in wealthy, sophisticated areas like some of our major cities and posh locales like Palm Beach or Naples, Florida, or Aspen, Colorado."