In my last post, I mentioned that I will be launching a
website for my writing projects, in particular the book I’ve written about federal
prosecution of pain doctors, including my husband, Cecil. I expect the site to
go live in August. Meanwhile, I plan to post excerpts from my book every now
and then here on TigerBird Sunrise. This week, I am sharing something that happened
early-on in the fed’s investigation into Cecil’s medical practice. This
incident woke us up to the fact that, when the feds are after you, there is no
corner of your life in which to feel safe.
In August of 2001, the feds had begun going after pain
docs as a means of curbing the flow of Oxycontin and other narcotics. They had raided
Cecil’s medical office and our home a month earlier, so we knew he was under
investigation. At that early stage, though, we were thinking they would realize
their mistake and back off. We were still naïve then. It took the full
onslaught, tactic after disturbing tactic, before
we would become wise to their ways.
It was early evening. Cecil and our son, Dru, had taken two neighborhood boys
to swim at our local lake. Our daughter, Kirstyn, and I were at the
house. One of the boys with Cecil lived next door. I was standing at the stove
when the boy’s father came running out his front door and yelled across the
fence that Cecil and the kids had been in an accident on the way back from the
lake.
I grabbed my keys and yelled for Kirstyn. We jumped into the
car and headed for the lake. There was only one route he would have taken.
About half-way there, we came upon a line of traffic. Lights
lit up the sky to the right across a field. “That’s them, isn’t it?” Kirstyn
spoke, almost in a guttural tone. “Probably,” I mumbled. Our windows were up
and there was an eerie silence. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I
drove as close as I could get, then stopped. As Kirstyn and I jumped out, a
jolt of noise and chaos hit us. We both started running. Kirstyn streaked
ahead. “Dad! Dad!” She screamed into
the night.
Fire trucks and
ambulances cluttered the street. Police and rescue vehicles were everywhere. People
yelled back and forth, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. As I got
close, I could smell fuel and I saw fire hoses snaking across the ground.
Someone tried to stop me, but I just kept going. I was all animal at that
point: senses on high alert and very little thinking.
I followed the chaos with my eyes and felt a wrenching from
the inside out when I saw Cecil’s truck. It was in someone’s front yard, upside
down and in three pieces. Two huge evergreens that had been taken out by the
truck engulfed its wreckage.
I wasn’t sure where to go first. An ambulance was off to my
left. I ran over to it and found Dru and one of the other boys inside, strapped
onto stretchers. Dru was wearing a neck brace.
“Oh God,” I said aloud, afraid to go forward, at the same
time I was jumping in. “What happened, Baby?” I tried not to scare him. Dru
said people had screamed for him to get out of the truck before it blew up. As
he scrambled through a window, he looked back at his dad, hanging upside down,
trapped by his seatbelt. Dru crawled away from the truck and rescue workers scooped
him up. He yelled for Cecil but was whisked away, expecting to hear the
explosion any minute.
In the ambulance, Dru was beside himself over his father. I
tried to reassure him. “It’s okay, honey, the truck didn’t blow up. I saw it.
Are you hurt? Can you move everything?” He wasn’t sure at that point.
My thoughts were all over the place. I wanted to stay with
Dru, but I also wanted to find Cecil. I looked out of the ambulance and scanned
the scene. I couldn’t see him anywhere, so decided to run out real quick to make
sure he was all right. Dru was clutching my hand, but nodded for me to go and
let his grip slacken. “Come right back, okay?” He was trying not to cry. I gave
him a kiss and promised I’d be gone for just a minute. Then I jumped out,
feeling the tug of motherhood trying to pull me back.
I ran around the crash scene looking for Cecil and found him
in another ambulance. Medics were working over him. He was dazed and
disoriented. His eyes fixed on me as soon as I appeared at the door. He wanted
to know about the boys, then he told me to go back and make sure they were
okay. I stood frozen. “Donna, go be with Dru,” Cecil insisted. I hoped he knew
how hard it was for me to leave.
I made my way back toward Dru and the other boys. Before I
could get there, Dru’s ambulance pulled out, threw on its lights and left the
scene. “WAIT!” I screamed at the tail lights that were leaving without me. I
called Kirstyn’s name and she came from nowhere. We ran down the street to our
car, moving in sync, sharing the same frightened heartbeat that pounds in the
chest of every person who senses they are on the verge of losing someone they
love. Off in the distance, I heard the siren, that horrible sound that tells
you someone is in trouble. This time it was my son.
A second ambulance pulled out and I swung my car in behind
it. Together we raced down the highway. Lights were on inside and I could see
the medic working over the third boy. That left Cecil at the scene. I expected
to hear the cry of the ambulance that carried him come from behind at any
minute, but it never did.
At the E.R. we ran through some doors and were made to wait
with the other families. Another siren arrived. “That’s probably Dad,” Kirstyn
said, without moving. I imagined him dying before they could get to him. I
prepared myself for raising a son who could no longer walk or move on his own.
Every minute was long enough to imagine a lifetime of horrors.
Eventually a nurse came in and told us we could go back and
see everyone. The families pushed through the doors and down the hall to where the
children were lying in beds. There were no tubes or monitors, no life-saving
dramas. After having seen the wreckage, it was difficult to fathom but,
apparently, there was no urgency for any of them. The pall of disaster began to
drift away. I settled Dru into his bed and asked him what happened.
“A car came from the other direction and Dad moved over to
make room and our tires went off into a ditch and Dad turned the wheel real
hard to stay on the road and the truck started going crazy. We flew off onto
grass and went into trees, and then flipped over. It happened really fast.”
The boys were in a room that formed the dead end of the
hall. From their door I could see the entire hallway. While Dru was talking, I
looked down the hall at police officers who were scampering about. One of them disappeared
with an air of secrecy into a small room. They all seemed up to something.
I left the boys’ room and headed toward the activity. A
voice was talking in hushed tones behind the closed door of the small room. It
was one side of a conversation; someone was on the telephone. The door opened
and an officer came out. He averted his eyes and walked into another room a
couple doors down. I followed on his heels and found Cecil standing there.
He seemed basically stable. There was a large bloody area on
the left side of his head. Blood vessels had obviously burst in his eyes
because they looked like road maps. He was still somewhat dazed, but he had his
wits about him. “They want a blood sample,” he said, as I walked in. “They’re
charging me with DUI.”
“DUI?” I stared at
the officer. “He was swimming with the boys at the lake!”
“Dr. Knox,” the officer continued, as though I were not in
the room. “Will you consent to a blood test?” It was odd that the guy called
him Doctor Knox. Why didn’t he call
him Mister like everyone else who
doesn’t know him enough to know he’s a doctor?
I struggled to remember some remnants of criminal law and
asked if they’d offered Cecil a breathalyzer, like they're supposed to. No, they hadn’t. They wanted a
blood sample now and, if I didn’t mind, would I please step back. Yes, I did
mind. In fact, since they were about to place Cecil under arrest, I would now
be acting as his attorney and they were not to speak directly to him again.
I asked the basis of their professed belief that Cecil had been
drinking. The officer seemed to squirm the slightest bit. He wasn’t at liberty to
discuss that with me at this time. They just wanted a blood sample.
It’s common for different law enforcement agencies to work
together. Badges and vests from a number of agencies had come through the door
when they’d raided Cecil’s office and our house. Now, these guys were asking
for blood. Visions of agents switching vials–or infusing Cecil’s–crept into my
mind. I asked about the chain of custody of the sample. More squirming. He wasn’t
at liberty to discuss that, either.
“Then Dr. Knox is not prepared to give you a blood sample.
I’d like a few minutes with my husband, please.” The officer and the nurse left
the room. I turned to Cecil. “If you refuse a
sample they’ll suspend your driver’s license for a year. But I don’t trust
them. I think they’re talking to the feds in that room. The feds would love to
come up with a report that says you’ve got drugs in your system. What do you
want to do?” Cecil insisted he hadn’t been drinking and that he wasn’t concerned
about his blood alcohol level.
I was still suspicious. Once they had his blood we would
lose control of the situation. What if they just flat-out falsified the report?
They’d shown up at our door with a battering ram and rifled through crawl
spaces in the basement. They’d threatened patients who didn't want to cooperate in
setting Cecil up. I had no idea what these guys were capable of doing and they were refusing
to tell me who would take custody of the blood sample.
Cecil sat and stared off for a few seconds. “Okay. Tell ‘em
no blood.” I opened the door to talk to the police officer and he all but fell
into the room, standing just a little too close. “There will be no sample,
officer.”
On October 25th Cecil was tried on a DUI charge,
as well as his refusal to consent to a blood alcohol test. Reckless driving had
been thrown in for good measure. All of this generated publicity, something we would later have to get used to. To no one’s surprise, sitting in the back of
the courtroom were the feds’ lead investigator and his side kick, notebooks in
hand, ready to take it all down.
The prosecutor put a police officer on the witness stand,
then offered the Implied Consent Form into evidence. This was the document that
showed Cecil had refused to give a blood sample. The judge took the form. “This
is a copy, Counselor. Where is the original?”
The prosecutor didn’t spend much time looking through his
file. “I’m sorry, Your Honor, but I don’t have the original.”
“If you don’t have the original, I am dismissing the
Refusal. You can’t prosecute on a copy.” It was a technicality, an evidentiary ruling. The judge
seemed irritated. He had a “You know this as well as I do” tone in his voice.
In the end, the judge dismissed the DUI and the Refusal, and took the Reckless
Driving under advisement. He ordered Cecil into VASAP, which is an alcohol
education program. It was an affront, but better than losing his license for a
year.
As we left the courtroom, I saw that the agents had
disappeared. Cecil looked at their empty seats and took my hand. “I’ll bet I
know who has the original.”
I understood at that moment what, and who, we were dealing with. And deal with them we did, for the next five years.
OMG, Donna. You could write 10 books about your ordeal and still not be able to tell that whole story. It's riveting! It literally drags me from one paragraph to the next.
ReplyDeleteThe feds are persecuting another doctor in the valley--me. Charges are completely fabricated but that doesn't stop the bankruptcy and ruined lives. If anyone is interested in supporting the cause of appropriate pain management, alternative healing, and stopping the government agenda against both, please contact me and follow my trial starting Nov 5 in Roanoke, VA. You can help me while helping yourself by contacting me for speaking engagements on healing or pain management on my website. Linda Cheek, MD
ReplyDeletewww.lindacheekmd.com
www.alternativetopain.wordpress.com
The Feds have severe delusions and act on every whim and opportunity presented to them. Great writing, I couldn't stop reading.
ReplyDelete