Living Proof, стр. 16
Dopp turned to them. “Sorry for the interruption, ladies.” He held up his badge. “My partner and I are here to take care of some state business.”
“Is—is everything okay?” one of them stammered.
“That’s what we’re here to make sure of,” Dopp said.
The women shifted anxiously, set the magazines down, and rubbed their stomachs. It reminded Trent of being on a turbulent airplane, when the pretext of normalcy disappears.
The nurse returned, escorting an elderly man in a white coat with thin hunched shoulders. She kept her hand on his elbow and whispered to him in the hallway as they approached. When they reached the edge of the waiting room, she hung back. Trent watched the doctor shuffle forward.
He stopped in front of them and looked up tiredly through wire-rimmed spectacles. “Didn’t take long for you to come,” he muttered.
“Do you know who I am?” Dopp said evenly.
“You’re DEP.”
“I am the director of the New York City bureau, Dr. Hanson.”
The doctor looked stricken.
Dopp continued: “Are you aware that you can be fined a thousand dollars for not cooperating with one of my inspectors?”
Dr. Hanson’s gaze swept around the waiting room: his patients were not bothering to hide their interest.
“Can we take this into my office?” he asked, a pleading note in his voice.
Dopp frowned. “I believe your patients here have a right to know about this, before they continue to pay for your flawed services.”
“The numbers were mistaken,” the doctor said. “We must have mixed up the reports we sent in. I swear that we have not misplaced any embryos, I swear it on my practice!”
“I have only the evidence in my hand,” Dopp said gravely, extending an inspector’s form with a handwritten note at the bottom. “After receiving your monthly report, my inspector came this morning to count your embryo stock and found that there were nine missing. And you know what else is missing? Your signature on this form, right here underneath the inspector’s.”
“That’s because we didn’t do anything wrong!” the doctor cried. “I refuse to acknowledge ‘missing’ embryos that didn’t exist in the first place. I told your inspector, there must have been a simple error in data entry when my secretary sent you the report. That’s all this is!”
“So the story changes,” Dopp said. “Was it a report mix-up or an error in data entry? At least stick with one excuse, Dr. Hanson.”
The doctor shook his head in exasperation. “What would I want with nine embryos? And even if I did want them—which I assure you is not the case—don’t you think I would have just underreported?”
Dopp stared into his eyes. “Perhaps you know all too well the consequences of false reporting and you rightly fear the random audit—much more often these days, isn’t it? Especially for you now, I would think.”
The doctor’s white hairline glistened. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, looking away. Trent could not help feeling a twinge of pity for him.
Trent thought that Dopp must have felt it, too, for his tone softened. “I’m just doing my job, Dr. Hanson. How are we to know whether those embryos existed or not? I’ll waive the fine this time for not cooperating”—the doctor looked up hopefully—“but I really have no choice but to do this.”
Dopp reached into his briefcase and pulled out a square pad the size of a coaster. After scribbling on it, he ripped off the top page and handed it to the doctor, who took it from him, closing his eyes. Dopp glanced around the room. “That,” he announced, “is a forty-five-thousand-dollar ticket—a five-thousand-dollar fine per missing embryo. This clinic is officially on probation for the next year. That means a surprise inspection can take place at any time. I would expect your records to be audited very shortly, Dr. Hanson. I trust you are aware that in the event of another so-called error, the department will have to revoke your medical license.”
The doctor grimaced at the last few words, and one woman gasped.
Dopp walked over to the doctor, who was pinching the ticket, and placed one hand on his shoulder. “I understand this is an awful setback for you, but God will still have mercy on you if you—”
The old man squirmed away. “Scare off my patients, fine me, but if you actually value human dignity, don’t you dare preach to me.”
Dopp matched his defiant stare before retreating to the door, motioning to Trent to follow. As they walked out, Dopp turned back around. Trent stepped aside, relieved not to be the target of his boss’s furious gaze.
“Bottom line, Dr. Hanson: Treat all your patients with compassion and respect, and we’ll never have to see each other again.”
He turned and walked out. Without looking at anyone in the room, Trent followed on his heels, letting the door slam behind them. On the sidewalk, the car was waiting as promised. After they entered the backseat and greeted the driver, Dopp turned to Trent.
“So, what did you learn from that?”
There was a feeling of awe in Trent’s response: “That we have a lot of power.”
“A lot of power for good. That’s the beauty of it.”
A gnawing question forced its way out. “But, well, what if the doctor didn’t do anything wrong with the embryos, and it was just a simple numerical error like he said?”
“That’s his fault, not ours. He must take the responsibility for it. Imagine if you fell asleep while you were driving, and then you crashed into a pole. You wouldn’t say to the police, ‘Oh well, don’t punish me for it, because I didn’t kill anyone.’ This was a wake-up call: I guarantee those embryos will never be disturbed now. We’re the only advocates for those souls, Trent. We owe it to them not to let any mistakes slide.”
Trent nodded in earnest. The words imbued him with a