All language subtitles for lawordre01023

the people are represented

by two separate yet equally
important groups,

the police,
who investigate crime

and the district attorneys,
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

( woman crying,
indistinct conversations )

( clamoring )

Horton, H-O-R-T-O-N.

That's the guy
you should have brought in here.

Miss, I've been here
40 minutes.

I just need to know
where she is.

I told you
before, sir--

I have to check
with Admitting.

This is ridiculous.

NURSE:
Get a doctor, stat!

MAN:
I need some help
in here please! Now!

She's turning blue.

She can't breathe.

Get the ambu-bag.

No pulse. Call a code!

Come on, let's go, move!

I need a line in!

Get the defibrillator.

You knew that wasn't right.

You can't go in there, sir.

Call a guard.

Sir!

No pulse.

Curette the I.V.

No response.

Get me adrenaline.

Excuse us, please,
wait outside.

We're doing everything
we can.

What's going on?

That's my daughter.
Please.

Please, you can't
come in here.

This is off limits.
Don't even try!
What's going on?

The last blood gases.

Let's call it.

23:17.

Oh, my God,
what the hell happened?

Your daughter
had cardiac arrest.

Well, resuscitate her!
Defib her!

Please, please,
your daughter is dead.

Where you going?
I don't get this.

She only had
a sore throat.

This is insane!
Some help, please.

Come on, pal....

No, guys, she only
had a sore throat!

She didn't even have a fever!

She only came in
for a prescription!

I don't understand, guys...

Captioning sponsored by
NBC/UNIVERSAL

Where was
she murdered?

I told you--
Urban Medical Center.

I'm sorry, Mr. Morton.

I'm a little confused.

Your daughter was killed
at the hospital?

Yeah, in the emergency room.

And I want to swear
out a murder complaint

against the resident
in charge of it.

This resident was treating her?

No, killing her.

But she was
at the hospital

for treatment.

Yeah, a sore throat,
muscle aches.

She only went in
to get a prescription

for some antibiotics.

Well, sometimes people

are a lot sicker than they look.

Listen to me--

I was a medic in Vietnam.

I know who's dying
and who isn't.

My daughter was not that sick.

Somebody in that emergency room

did something
that killed her.

Who does he want
to bring charges against?

The resident in charge
of the emergency room.

Oh, come on, Max.

People die
in hospital emergency rooms

every hour of every day.

Now that may indeed be tragic,
but it is not criminal.

Unless somebody was
criminally negligent.

And how the hell
would Mr. Morton know

if that had happened?

He was a medic
in Vietnam.

He says she wasn't
sick enough to die.

He was very convincing.

I'm not saying no.

I just had my first day off

in two weeks.

There is a world out there.

LOGAN:
You're the intern who
treated a young girl

named, uh, Suzanne Morton.

Yeah, she's the last patient
I admitted before I took off.

Bronchitis. She dramatized her
symptoms a bit.

So I ordered a chest x-ray

and put her aside
to wait for a bed.

Why?

Right now we're doing
a routine investigation

of her death.

Death?

Why, she died?

You sound surprised.

Don't people croak
here every day?

Well, she wasn't that sick.

You don't die from bronchitis.

Suzanne Morton,
she had pneumonia.

The sputum examination
and blood culture

were indicative.

We discussed it
during rounds.

Pneumonia, huh?

Lot of people die
of that these days?

When it's complicated
by chemical pneumonitis.

Sometimes.

The patient was feverish
and fell unconscious.

She must have aspirated
some of the contents

of her stomach.

Stomach acid and lungs
do not mix well.

This can happen fast?

Yes, it can.

Excuse me.

Hmm. Busy woman.

Yeah, so busy she can't
even make eye contact.

Suzanne Morton.

Yes, if you see Mr. Morton,
please extend my condolences.

Dr. Raza, were you on rounds
when they reached her?

Yes, yes, that is right.

I came right away.

Why?

I didn't think
she was that sick.

We've heard bronchitis,
maybe pneumonia.

No, no, no,
she was very sick.

She should have been
in the intensive care unit.

Unfortunately,
there were no beds.

In my country,
we accept death.

But here, you're expected
to live forever.

You ever hold a human heart
in your hands?

Only mine.

What year are you in?

Third.

We go hands on.

Did you ever lay your hands
on Suzanne Morton?

The pneumonia.

I spent 40 minutes

trying to find an orderly

to take her to
intensive care.

On the way back, I passed a
gunshot wound through the neck

with a six-inch exit.

You ever see
one of those?

Yeah, well, they're
not so exciting

when you run into one
in a crack house.

Financial advisor needed in E.R.
WOMAN ( over P.A. ):

GREEVEY:
Tell me some more.

This guy in the
emergency room--

must have been his
daughter was sick--

he's going nuts, yelling,
"Why didn't they do this?
Why didn't they do this?"

Sounded like he knew
his way around.

Around the hospital?

Around sick people.

Those doctors...
something wasn't right.

The way they looked.

Worried? Excited?

Embarrassed.

Embarrassed.

Does this make sense
to you, Max?

Sure, she had bronchitis.

She had pneumonia.

She was fine
when she got here,

she was dying
when she got here.

God-like pronouncements

sound like normal
medical procedure to me.

So, Max, what's your problem?

Meaning?

Meaning your attitude.

'82.

My partner and I

go into this fleabag S.R.O.

to pick up
some junkie bank robber.

I'm putting the cuffs on him.

His girlfriend comes from
out of nowhere, jumps me.

We're rolling around, I hit my
head against the radiator.

You know, it hurt like hell,
but it's no big deal.

Week later,
I start slurring words.

I go see a neurologist--

quote, "Top guy in Manhattan."

He looks at me, he says,
"I want you in the hospital.

I'm going to do a C.A.T. scan."

Yeah, well,
I would definitely freak.

Next day,
Dr. God comes in

says, "you have
an inoperable brain tumor

in your cerebellum."

He said it like
he was telling me

they'd be serving chicken
for dinner.

We decided to get

a second opinion.

I go see
another "top" neurologist.

He does another C.A.T. scan.

He comes in and says

"You don't have a brain tumor
in your cerebellum.

You have
a subdural hematoma here."

A month later, I was fine.

Hey, at least he caught
the mistake.

All right?

Yeah.

And when they don't,
they just bury them.

Dr. Auster will see you now.

Let's go see
the chief of medicine.

I'm sure he'll be godlike too.

A diagnostician
is like a detective.

As a matter of fact,

Conan Doyle
modeled Sherlock Holmes

on Dr. Joseph Bell.

You solve every case
you work on?

We can tell a felony
from a traffic ticket.

A patient walks in
with a headache.

Does she have
a subarachnoid hemorrhage,

a berry aneurysm,
a retro-orbital tumor

or does she just have
a headache?

Do you give here an aspirin,
or do you saw open her skull?

You make this speech
at funerals?

AUSTER:
I saw that girl in
the emergency room on rounds.

She was in the hands
of competent staff.

The girl is dead.

Well, people like
to believe that medicine

is pure science.

Medicine is a science.

But doctors know
it's also a lottery.

See what I mean?

The guy is chief of medicine

and all he could
come up with is

"It's a lottery."

Proceed, Sherlock.

What do you do
when you make a mistake--

use Wite-Out?

Uh-uh, you cross it out
and initial it.

This ain't no
letter to Dear Abby.

These charts got
to show everything

or there could be
serious legal repercussions.

Serious legal repercussions,
that's what we have here.

Somebody used Wite-Out
on Suzanne Morton's chart.

Now, on top
of the Wite-Out

it says "acetaminophen,"
a common every day painkiller.

But underneath
the Wite-Out...

it said "meperidine."

That's a narcotic.

Big difference.

Third-rate cover-up.

Whoever did it
probably wasn't expecting

an investigation.

Whoever wrote merpidine
also wrote acetaminophen.

Look at the "e's"
in acetaminophen.

See, italic,
cursive penmanship

an English style,
popular in the colonies.

See the shape and the angle
of the loop?

Now, it matches notations
that were here,

here,

and here,

all of them
initialed "E.R."

Emergency room?

Eqbal Raza.

MAN:
and a low-grade fever.

Nothing more.

I gave her an antibiotic

and an antihistamine.

No doctor would have done
anything more.

Sounds like you're
on solid ground.

Her psychiatrist had her
on phenelzine sulfate.

She was seeing a shrink?

She'd been depressed
since her mother's death.

When did that happen?

Last year.

She developed peritonitis
after a hysterectomy.

This, uh... fenal...

what is it?

Phenelzine...
Doctor?

Miss Rossi is ready.

Thank you.

Phenelzine sulfate,
an antidepressant.

A strong one.

The patient died,
but don't worry.

The doctor is doing just fine.

Okay, the tox screen
shows acetaminophen.

It shows aspirin,
and it shows an antihistamine.

So there's no sign
of meperidine?

We ran the standard
gas and chromatography.

We know the girl
was on something

called phenelzine.

Not a trace.

Meperidine, phenelzine,
recreational drugs--

do another tox screen.

I think you're wasting
your nickel.

Nobody takes meperidine
and phenelzine,

unless they want to risk
ending up here.

It can be
a fatal combination.

I was exhausted.

I just came off
the cancer ward.

I wrote meperidine
without thinking,

but I gave her acetaminophen.

What about the Wite-Out?

There is paperwork required
when you write a narcotic,

and I did not have time
for that.

Dr. Raza,

you just confessed

to falsifying
hospital records.

That's a Class E felony.

When they look at me here,
they see an Indian or a Paki.

They don't even know
the difference.

We're all supposed
to be bad doctors.

You ask anybody.

I have to be twice as good
as everybody else

just so they will think
I am as good as everybody else.

My children want
to stay in this country,

my wife wants
to stay in this country,

and to stay,
all I have to do

is to be perfect
all the time.

Well, you fell a little
short of perfection

on Suzanne Morton's chart.

It was a simple mistake.

Really?

If the toxicologist
finds meperidine

in Suzanne Morton's body,

you'll be lucky if
you're only deported.

please report to Admitting
Dr. Fleming,
WOMAN ( over P.A. ):

Cancer Care Center.
in the Comprehensive

Have fun.

Thanks.

Max, dig this.

Now, here's a guy
who swallowed his false teeth,

and then they bit through
his intestines.

What did Dr. Raza prescribe--
a good flossing?

Oh, here we go.

Mistake, crossed out,
initialed.

Same here.

You know, look at this.

We could be holding in our hands
the evidence to a mass murder

and we wouldn't even know it.

All these have
evening rounds

at 6:00 to 6:30,

and the night that
Suzanne Morton died,

rounds were after 9:00.

If you hear hoof beats,

it's probably a horse,
not a zebra.

Old medical school saying.

Students tend
to find exotic diseases

in ordinary symptoms.

They need to be reminded

that most things are
what they appear to be.

You, gentlemen,
are on a zebra hunt.

Well, either a zebra
or a horse using Wite-Out.

Maybe Dr. Raza made
a mistake on the chart.

Maybe he made a mistake
in the emergency room.

You trust Dr. Raza,
don't you?

Offered him a job.

Wrote a letter
to immigration this morning.

Strange time
to be hiring the guy.

A good doctor is a good doctor.

GREEVEY:
What time were rounds
that night?

Sometime after 6:00.

They stand around gabbing,
and we're trying

to keep some poor jerk
from bleeding to death.

So what happened that night?
Why were rounds so late?

We waited
for the chief of medicine.

Dr. Auster?

God on high descending.

Well, he descended late.

He said he'd been delayed
at some retirement party

for one of the service chiefs.

had a good time.
Seemed like Dr. Auster

What do you mean?

It smelled like
he had been drinking.

a hospital blood drive
There will be
WOMAN ( over P.A. ):

we need volunteers.
beginning next Monday;

The hospital wanted
to lay out cheese in a can

and white wine from Bulgaria.

So, I had the party catered.

Duck-liver pate,
beluga malossol caviar.

Oh, yes, anesthesiology
has been very good to me.

Did Dr. Auster
have a good time?

Oh, I hope so.

The caviar cost
400 bucks a pound.

Did Dr. Auster
have a drink?

Oh, yes, that's
why I had a bar.

Happy Hour Catering,
25 bucks a head.

You guys just
supply bartenders?

We supply bartenders,
barmaids if you want them,

ice, glasses, napkins, mixers.

Booze?

You supply, you save.

You work the hospital job?

I was there, two waitresses,
and Rory, another bartender.

You remember this guy?

Yeah, Jim.

No, Ed--

Edward Auster.

No, no, Jim... Green.

The bourbon?

That's what he drank--

on the rocks,
one every five minutes.

I can smell it.

Somebody gave her
the wrong drugs.

I don't know if it
was Gunga Din or Auster,

but one of them
screwed the pooch.

Mike, you look like
you got a problem.

All I know about hospitals

is that my father
is still walking today

because he had
a heart transplant in one

seven years ago.

I'm not saying
all doctors are bad.

99% of them
are solid pros.

It's the rotten
one percent--

to quote our friend Auster--

that make it a lottery.

You bet your life.

Come on, Max, you ain't exactly
a fan of the profession.

I just want them held
to the same standards

that cops are
when somebody gets shot

or pilots when there's a crash.

Yeah, and that's
what bothers me.

Listen, say I'm out with Maggie.

We're having dinner;
I have a few pops, okay?

Mm-hmm. Go on.

I look out the window;
I see someone getting mugged.

I run out,
pull my service revolver

out of my sock,
I yell, "halt!"

Now, one of the muggers

reaches into his pocket,
takes something out,

turns around...

I blow him away.

Yeah, but the something
ain't a weapon.

It's the victim's wallet.

It is still
a totally righteous shoot.

You know that.

I know that.

Internal Affairs smells
liquor on my breath--

they crucify me.

I got to tell you this,
that's how this feels to me.

Well, you know,
there's a difference

between a few pops and a bourbon
every five minutes.

Come on,
the kid's exaggerating.

Maybe he wasn't.

No one said Auster
looked or acted drunk.

They smelled it on his breath.

Now, you know looking
and acting drunk

don't mean squat.

What are you guys talking about?

Uh, back when Max and I
were partners,

I had a little bit
of a drinking problem.

So, finally,

he told me that he wouldn't
partner with me

unless I went to A.A.

And?

And I told him to mind
his own freaking business!

I was under control.

I knew what I was doing.

I was just a social drinker.

He made me so damn mad,

I went out and I had
a few social drinks.

Couple of hours later,

I was standing in the middle
of Lexington Avenue,

not looking or acting drunk,

but I had my gun pointed
at a taxi driver

because I didn't like the way
he was honking his horn.

That night, I went
to my first meeting,

and I been sober ever since.

So, get back to the hospital
and twist a few people, huh?

I'm begging you,
don't make me torpedo my career.

We need
a second witness.

Hmm?

Look...

Auster forgets more
every week than I know.

I came to New York
because of him.

Do you know what it means

to be able to say I studied
under Dr. Edward Auster?

He could destroy
the rest of my career.

What career?

He was drunk.

The girl had muscle pains.

The doctor ordered meperidine.

The resident said something
about phenelzine.

I didn't...

I don't even
think he even heard.

He took the meperidine,
and he injected it himself.

No one tried
to stop him?

What are we going to do?

Wrestle Dr. Edward Auster
to the floor?

I didn't even know he was wrong.

You know now.

Now we have to get approval

from an executive
assistant D.A.?

Stone's the boss.
What do you want me to do?

This case is
politically sensitive.

It gets tougher
all the time, Mike.

The Davids kid already
made the term once.

He said flat out,
Auster was drunk.

D.A.:
I want to go in with more
than a nervous resident.

The bartender says Auster
drank like a fish at the party.

If the resident testifies,
there's a good chance,

we get the rest
of the E.R. team to follow suit.

Pick him up.

Dr. Dematthews to C.C.U.
WOMAN ( over P.A. ):

Dr. Dematthews to C.C.U. please.

We did a procedure
called balloon angioplasty.

WOMAN:
Oh, but the pain?

I don't think
it will come back.

Look, I'm not saying
you can take up racquetball,

but you will be able to walk,
climb stairs, and swim.

Oh, thank you.

Guess we won't
need our guns.

Edward Auster?

We have a warrant
for your arrest.

Practicing medicine drunk--
it's not prosecuted much.

First in his class
at Harvard Medical School.

Residency and fellowship
at Mass General.

Say hello
to Philip Nevins--

Dr. Auster's attorney.

Author of the classic

textbook on cardiology.

Winner of the Lasker
Award for medical research.

Published
175 journal articles.

Does he walk on water?

The trash that you people
usually prosecute

can't murder fast enough

to kill as many people
as Edward Auster has saved.

Now I'm just trying to save you
from a mistaken perspective.

Failing to perceive a
substantial and unjustified risk

that might cause
Suzanne Morton's death--

criminally negligent homicide.

Consciously disregarding

that substantial,
unjustified risk--

manslaughter two.

See you in court, Stone.

Nevins is gonna flood
the witness stand

with famous doctors
swearing that
Auster's a cross

between Albert Schweitzer
and Albert Einstein.

And we've got a father

who was a medic
25 years ago?

Morton took on heavy odds.

Maybe we can
even them out.

I want you

to interview people
who know Auster.

So, you're the dipstick
who's prosecuting Bud Auster.

Is that what you call Dr. Auster
around the fishing hole?

It's what I've called him
since the second grade.

Some people do things

and others...

What do you and Auster do?

We catch trout in Maine.

Last time was in June.

We sleep in the woods.

Tell each other we're
just as young as we used to be.

And drink?

Somebody pass a law
against drunk fishing?

I first admired America

when I saw
Judgment at Nuremberg.

Everybody pays for their crimes.

I never thought
it would be me.

There will be no prosecution
if you testify against Auster.

And no job.

I get to love America
and leave it.

Two or three times each month
he calls and says he's coming.

He's always late
because he's drunk.

Do you know
what they call those rounds?

Liver rounds.

Everyone knew.

Suzanne Morton
did have pneumonia.

Dr. Auster did
tell you to lie.

I have flexible hours
in my training.

Do you know
how important that is

when you're raising a child?

That's non-responsive, doctor.

Auster didn't act drunk.

He never acted drunk.

But he was drunk,
wasn't he?

He was always drunk
on liver rounds.

Wasn't he?

And he did tell you to lie,

didn't he?

That poor girl.

All she needed was some aspirin
and an antibiotic.

Am I going to lose my license?

That's not my decision, Doctor.

However, I will give you

immunity from prosecution
for conspiracy

if you testify.

You suspect. You know.

What are you going to do?

Contact the medical society?

Sure. Intern Steven Simonson
wishes to file a complaint

against the leading cardiologist
in the United States?

Look, I admitted Suzanne Morton.

It looks like
I blew the diagnosis.

Is that what's
bothering you?

Six months ago,
I get this guy.

He's 25 years old.

He's basically healthy, right?

He walks in

with the worst headache
in his life.

His neck is sore,
but that's ambiguous.

And Auster showed up?

He prescribes meperidine
for the headache,

without a patient workup.

It's the worst thing
he can do.

It masks the symptoms
of meningitis,

which is what the guy had.

We saved him...
barely.

Now every time I see Auster
walk into the E.R.,

I want to grab
whoever I'm treating

and hide him in a closet.

( door opening )

Good afternoon, Dr. Simonson.

Sir.

That will be all,
thank you.

So, are we early?

from Dr. Simonson.
We got what we needed

An intern, Mr. Stone.

Are you planning on
asking the cleaning lady

to testify, too?

About the time
I threw the tissue

into the waste paper
basket and missed?

Ed, please.

Every doctor
in this country

has to worry about
some shyster lawyer

suing for malpractice.

Now we've got a prosecutor
looking over our shoulder.

The next time
I write a prescription,

am I supposed
to ask the Supreme Court

to vote on the dosage?

Look, Stone, you haven't got
a chance to convict.

But this trial alone
can stain

Dr. Auster's reputation.

Are you proposing we give him
the Nobel Peace Prize

and call it even?

No. Adjournment with
an eye toward dismissal.

Because of Dr. Auster,
a young woman is dead.

A doctor, Mr. Stone,
is not a magician.

drove drunk,
If you

this would be
an open-and-shut case.

When you practice medicine,
Mr. Stone,

sometimes a patient dies.

And when you're
a lawyer, Dr. Austin,

some of the people
you prosecute are convicted.

Defendant's Index, 1983.

Where are computers
when you need them?

Here's a little job for you.

Keyboard every lawsuit
ever filed in New York County

into a computer.

Most malpractice
doesn't result in lawsuits.

You got any better ideas?

Go door to door?

Ask if anybody saw
Auster kill the person?

We're going
to do that next.

Oh...

I just saved us
a lot of shoe leather.

"Stivic versus Auster.

In re: The death
of Angela Stivic, age 11."

When Dr. Auster's attorney

told us they'd offer us
a settlement,

my husband said, "Take it.

"It will be over.

"We can stop
thinking about Angela

all the time."

We bought the apartment
and the furniture.

My husband
sat in the recliner once.

I'm sorry.

When Dr. Auster
came out of Angela's room

to say
they couldn't stop the bleeding,

I smelled liquor on his breath.

Bourbon.

All I wanted
was for Dr. Auster to say,

"I killed Angela Stivic--

the beautiful daughter
of George and Melanie Stivic."

Excuse me.

You know the difference

between Auster
and a serial killer?

The weapon.

You objected to
administering meperidine?

I suggested
acetaminophen,

but Dr.Auster grew angry.

He said if I didn't like

the way the hospital
was being run,

that I should continue
to do my training elsewhere.

Thank you, doctor.

Do you know how long Dr. Auster

has been practicing medicine
Dr. Reesah?

Raza.

I don't know.

25 years, maybe?

And do you know
where he went to medical school?

Harvard, I believe.

That's correct.

How long have you been
a doctor?

Two years, sir.

I see.

Where did you go
to medical school?

At the University
of Peshawar.

Thank you.

STONE:
Dr. Mills, were you
present on March 15,

when Suzanne Morton
was admitted?

Yes.

And what was your reaction

when Dr. Auster prepared
to inject Suzanne Morton

with meperidine?

I said her chart showed
she was taking phenelzine.

Meperidine was contraindicated.

And where do you go
to medical school?

Harvard.

Thank you.

So, in your expert opinion,

the administration of meperidine

in conjunction with phenelzine

killed Suzanne Morton?

That's correct.

No further questions.

But isn't it true

that you had to run
a second toxicological screen

to even find meperidine

and phenelzine in Suzanne
Morton's body?

That's because both drugs
are unusual unto themselves...

Thank you, Doctor.

...and would not be found
unless specifically requested...

Thank you, Doctor!

...which they were.

Isn't it possible that pneumonia
killed Suzanne Morton?

It's possible that death rays
from Mars killed her...

( spectators laughing )

...but I don't think so.

Dr. Auster must have
spoken to you

during the course of the party.

Every five minutes.

"Fill 'er up."

Was his speech slurred?

Not so I remember.

Did he seem drunk in any way?

I never saw anyone
hold his liquor better.

During your years of research

into alcoholism, Dr. Walters,

have you observed people
who appear to be sober

but are in fact drunk?

It happens all the time.

It could happen to Dr. Auster?

Objection.

It could happen
to my Aunt Minnie,

but it doesn't.
Sustained.

I'll rephrase the question.

If a 55-year-old man,
weighing 185 pounds,

having consumed ten shots
of bourbon in two hours,

appears to be
stone-cold sober,

does that mean
he is in fact

in full possession
of his faculties?

No.

Now, if that same 55-year-old,
man weighing 185 pounds

has several drinks, and he
appears to be quite sober,

but makes a mistake,

would that mistake

necessarily be caused
by his drinking

or might he have made
that mistake anyway?

Obviously,
that's impossible to say.

You'd have to be
that 55-year-old man to know.

We've got Auster drunk
at Suzanne Morton's bedside,

prescribing the medicine
that killed her.

Why do I feel like
we're on the ropes?

We're going back over
every shred of evidence

and find out what we missed.

Just because
Auster's brilliant

doesn't mean he didn't do
something dumb.

And, cheer up,
we got all weekend.

Over the past five years,

the state health department
has been notified

of six adverse occurrences

in the Urban Medical Center
emergency room.

"Adverse occurrences."
Nice phrase.

They were people who died

for reasons
not immediately clear.

In all six cases,
no fault was found.

Five of the cases
happened on nights

Dr. Auster happened to be
in the emergency room.

Interesting.

Not evidence.

Suzanne Morton,
Angela Stivic,

a 25-year-old guy
with meningitis.

Now statistical anomalies.

This is beyond
coincidence.

In the case
of the Morton girl,

you cannot prove
that he crossed the line

between criminal recklessness
and unfortunate mistake.

If he knew he was an alcoholic,

then drinking before work
was criminally reckless.

The crime
did not take place

in the emergency room.

It took place
at the cocktail party.

Excellent.

Okay, okay, I'm an alcoholic,
and I know I'm an alcoholic.

What do I do, buy liquor?

We've got charge receipts
for enough bourbon to prove...

It proves he drank.

It doesn't prove
he knew he was a drunk.

Go to A.A. meetings?

We can't canvas hundreds of A.A.
meetings for tomorrow afternoon,

and there are no A.A. meetings

in his calendar.

Whoa.

What?

Whenever he left town,

he called the office
every day, collect...

except on
his last fishing trip.

STONE:
Where did you spend the week
of June 10, Mr. Hoffman?

In Maine, fishing.

Was Edward Auster with you?

Was Edward Auster with you?

No.

Did he ask you to tell people
that he had been

with you on that trip?

Yes.

Why was that, Mr. Hoffman?

He didn't want anyone to know
where he was.

Why was that?

He was embarrassed.

And why was that?

He checked himself
into a clinic.

What clinic?

The Colson Clinic.

What kind of clinic

is the Colson Clinic?

Mr. Hoffman?

It's a substance abuse clinic.

Thank you.

In his first group sessions at
the clinic, Dr. Auster told us

he had gone through college
in three years,

and he became
chief of medicine

at a major New York hospital
in only ten years.

STONE:
Anything else?

I believe
he also mentioned

that he skipped
fifth grade.

Dr. Auster had
very little patience

with our program.

How long does
your treatment program last?

28 days.

How long did
Dr. Auster stay?

Six days, he left
against our advice..

STONE:
Would you say

that Dr. Auster knew
he was an alcoholic

by the time he left?

He would never have come in
the first place if he hadn't.

I have no further questions.

Are you positive?

Now I am going to ask you
to limit your responses

to a simple "yes" or "no,"

so we can avoid the subjective
flights of fantasy

that your last statement
exemplified.

Do you understand my request,
Dr. Rasmussen?

Yes.

Good. Thank you.

Now, did Dr. Auster say to you,
"I am an alcoholic"?

No.

In fact,
didn't Dr. Auster say to you

"I am not an alcoholic"?

You must...

Yes or no, Dr. Rasmussen,
please.

Did he say
"I am not an alcoholic"?

Yes.

No more questions.

JUDGE:
You may step down, Doctor.

STONE:
Did Dr. Auster
discuss his drinking with you?

Anything that transpired
between Dr. Auster and myself

is protected
by patient-doctor privilege.

But as well as patient
and doctor, you're friends?

We are.

Where did you have lunch
with him on June 7th?

In your office?

No.

At the Four Seasons.

Did you conduct your physical
examination of Dr. Auster there?

Uh, no.

Did you bill him for your time?

No, it was a, uh...

A friendly lunch.

Yes.

So, privilege is not

an issue here.

Did you say

anything during
your friendly lunch

that upset him?

Doctor?

I... I...

I told him that, uh...

if he didn't stop drinking,
he'd be dead in five years.

Thank you.

Does the defense wish to begin
or do you prefer to break

for an early lunch, Mr. Nevis?

If it please the court,

the defense can bring its one
witness before noon.

Proceed.

The defense calls

Dr. Edward Auster.

...and so the tragic death
of a six-year-old

led to sight for one child
and a new heart for another.

The boy who got the heart,
is now the star shortstop

for a little league
baseball team.

NEVINS:
And finally, how many doctors
and immediately family members

have you treated
in the past ten years?

I... I really have no idea.

Well, I do.
I did some research.

Over 300.

So it seems that you're
the kind of doctor whose hands

other doctors
put their lives in.

I certainly hope
I've lived up to that trust.

Oh, brother.

The defense rests, Your Honor.

Mr. Stone, the hour's almost up.

Could you hold your
cross-examination

until after lunch?

Of course, Your Honor.

( gavel pounding )

Good job.

Thanks a million.

( whispering )

( indistinct conversation )

( whispering )

That many?

So then you do think
patients should know

as much as possible
about the doctors
that treat them?

Yes, of course, where he was
trained and who trained him.

Personal habits?

I don't see why.

Unless it impacts upon
his ability as a physician.

Well, let's talk
about that.

Have you had
a drink today?

Objection, Your Honor,
relevancy.

I'll allow it.

Yes.

More than one?

Yes.

How many more than one?

I'm not sure.

Do you recall, was it
between two and five drinks?

I don't recall.

Doctor, is it not a fact

that you had six bourbons
on the rocks

at Chances Pub
not 45 minutes ago?

Objection, Your Honor.

JUDGE:
I'll allow it.

Let's move on, Mr. Stone.

the well, Doctor Auster?
Would you step into

no need for Dr. Auster to stand.
Objection, Your Honor, there's

Side-bar, please,
Your Honor.

What's going on, Mr. Stone?

Does Dr. Auster look
drunk to you, Your Honor?

What the hell is that
supposed to mean?

I must be allowed to show

Dr. Auster is in the courtroom
and he's drunk.

Your Honor,
I strenuously
object to this.

Overruled.

Proceed, Mr. Stone.

Step into the well,
Doctor.

This is the New York City
Police Department Manual.

I'm going to administer
a standard test

to determine whether a person
is operating a motor vehicle

under the influence.

This is an outrage.

Do as Mr. Stone instructs you,
Doctor.

Raise your arm
to the level of your shoulder,

close your eyes,

and point to your nose
with your index finger.

WOMAN:
Dr. Auster, will you
appeal the verdict?

No, I'm sorry. Please...

Congratulations.

How did you know?

Um...

My father.

Every day at lunch.