Original subtitles

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.