Chapter 6 - The Lawyer Who Said No
Nia Brooks did not look impressed by anyone in the conference room.
Not by Dr. Harris’s medical credentials.
Not by the hospital documents.
Not by Mr. Mitchell’s remorse.
She was forty-one, precise, Atlanta-born, and known for handling civil cases involving hospitals that preferred confidential settlements to public questions.
She read Renee’s letter twice before speaking.
“First thing,” she said. “Nobody calls Elaine Mercer.”
Mr. Mitchell folded his arms.
“She knows we know.”
“That is different from knowing what evidence you have.”
Maya sat beside Claire.
Jordan sat across from his parents.
The physical arrangement had happened naturally.
Nia noticed it.
“Second, Maya is seventeen. Claire is currently her guardian. Any decision involving litigation, records access or settlement needs to account for that.”
Maya said, “I’m not settling.”
Nia’s mouth almost curved.
“You’ve been in my office nine minutes.”
“I know what I want.”
“You know what you’re angry about. That’s not always the same thing.”
Maya did not like the answer.
Jordan did.
Nia placed the hospital bracelet inside a clear evidence sleeve.
“This is strong.”
She pointed to the adoption records.
“These require a court order before we can see the sealed underlying file.”
She pointed to the 2010 settlement.
“This is complicated.”
Mr. Mitchell frowned.
“Because of the confidentiality clause?”
“Because you signed it.”
“I was pressured.”
“Pressure matters. So does the fact that you had counsel.”
“My lawyer told me not to sign.”
Nia stared at him.
“That makes it worse.”
Mrs. Mitchell looked away.
Mr. Mitchell nodded.
“I know.”
Nia continued.
“The good news is that Maya was a minor for essentially the entire period. Fraudulent concealment and delayed discovery may affect limitation issues. I’m not promising anything. I’m telling you there are legal questions worth litigating.”
Jordan asked, “Can the hospital destroy the old records?”
“Not once they receive a valid preservation notice without creating a much larger problem.”
She looked at Harris.
“Do you have anything stored at St. Gabriel?”
“No.”
“Email?”
“My old account is gone.”
“Personal copies?”
Harris hesitated.
“One external drive.”
Mr. Mitchell stared at him.
“You said Renee had the only evidence.”
“I said she had evidence.”
Nia raised a hand.
“This is exactly why nobody decides what is important by themselves anymore.”
Harris looked chastened.
“The drive is at my house.”
“What’s on it?”
“Screenshots of the electronic chart from 2009.”
Jordan leaned forward.
“You copied Maya’s chart?”
“In 2014.”
“Why?”
“Because Mercer’s office asked IT to purge legacy duplicate patient profiles.”
Nia’s expression sharpened.
“Did she put that in writing?”
“Not to me.”
“Who told you?”
“A records analyst named Samuel Cho.”
“Can we contact him?”
“If he’s still alive.”
Maya blinked.
“What does that mean?”
“He was older. That’s all.”
Nia leaned back.
“Before we chase witnesses, I want the safe-deposit contents copied, logged and secured. I want the original blanket and bracelet stored somewhere other than either family home. I want Claire to preserve Renee’s phone, laptop and cloud accounts if they still exist.”
Claire nodded.
“I have everything.”
Nia looked at Maya.
“And I want you off social media about this.”
Maya frowned.
“I barely post.”
“Good. Keep barely posting.”
Jordan raised his hand slightly.
“What about me?”
“You’re seventeen and angry. You are exactly the person I’m talking about.”
For the first time all day, Maya laughed.
Jordan looked at her.
The laugh disappeared quickly, but it had existed.
That mattered.
After the meeting, Mrs. Mitchell asked Maya to wait.
They stood in the hallway outside Nia’s office.
“I don’t know what I’m allowed to say to you,” Mrs. Mitchell admitted.
Maya studied her.
“You’re allowed to say what’s true.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“I believe you.”
Mrs. Mitchell looked surprised.
“I don’t forgive everything I don’t know yet.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Maya nodded.
Mrs. Mitchell removed something from her purse.
A tiny pink knitted cap.
“I kept this.”
Maya stared.
“It was supposed to be yours.”
“You kept it seventeen years?”
“I bought two.”
Mrs. Mitchell’s voice cracked.
“Blue for Jordan. Pink for you.”
Maya touched the cap with one finger but did not take it.
“Not yet.”
Mrs. Mitchell nodded.
“That’s okay.”
They returned to the conference room.
Nia was reading another page from Renee’s file.
Her expression had changed.
“What?” Jordan asked.
She turned the paper toward them.
It was a copy of a certified letter Renee had sent in August 2016.
Recipient:
MARCUS MITCHELL.
Address:
The Mitchell family home.
Jordan looked at his father.
“You got a letter from her.”
Mr. Mitchell stared at the receipt.
“No.”
Nia pointed to the delivery signature.
Someone had signed.
Mrs. Mitchell leaned closer.
Her face drained of color.
“That’s not Marcus’s handwriting.”
Jordan examined it.
He knew the looping M.
He had seen it on birthday cards all his life.
He looked at his mother.
She was staring at the signature as though it belonged to another ghost.
“That,” she whispered, “looks like Elliot’s.”
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Every face turned toward Dr. Harris.
He did not deny it.
