Chapter 27

  Finally, Friday had arrived and the study team went over the final data.  

“Everything is in place," Jeff stated.  

Sam nodded in agreement. “Go ahead and take this over to Manning."  

Jeff stood up to leave.  

“And Jeff," Sam added, “try and act humble." 

“Sure.  I’ll be Miss Congeniality."  

Charles had eagerly provided his car and driver for this great mission.  All of Jeff’s hard work had come down to an hour of luxury.  He allowed the driver to open the door for him, as he slid into the spacious back seat of the CEO’s car.  The driver did not have to ask where they were going.  He had already been given complete instructions.  As they pulled away from the curb, Jeff began to take in the interior of the car.  The plush leather and sound system alone must have been an expensive add-on.  There was a small portable bar that extended down from the back of the driver’s seat.  Jeff helped himself to a tiny glass of brandy.  He was a little nervous about this encounter.

From what he had been told, Manning was not going to be user-friendly.  The brandy burned his throat on the way down, but he could feel himself starting to relax.  Traffic was pretty light for mid-day Atlanta and the car made the trip in less than twenty minutes.  “Would you like a breath mint?" the driver offered. 

“As a matter of fact, that’s not a bad idea." 

On his way into the building, he thought, Breath mints must be standard gear.  He rode the elevator up to the top floor and found his way to David Manning’s office.  After announcing who he was, Jeff was instructed to take a seat while the secretary announced his arrival.  “I have a Jeff Edwards from Dominex Pharmaceuticals to see you."  The woman listened for a moment and then hung up.  “He’ll be with you shortly."  

Jeff occupied the time by reading some literature about the FDA that was sitting on the table beside him.  The brandy had done its job and he only really grasped about five percent of what he was reading.  Thirty minutes later he had gotten all the way through the boring document and set it back on the table.  This was pay back from Manning.  Oh well, if this is as bad as it gets, I can give him the whole day.

Forty-five minutes after Jeff had arrived he was told that Mr. Manning would see him.  Jeff picked up the heavy brief case and walked into the office.  “Mr. Edwards," David said, not looking up from his desk.  “Have a seat."  Jeff sat down and set the brief case on the chair next to him.  “I believe you have something for me," Manning said, still not looking up.  

Jeff couldn’t believe this guy.  He had rudeness elevated to a whole new level.  He opened the briefcase and handed Manning the larger of two packages.  David looked up to see a thick envelope being slid across his desk. 

“Let’s have a look, shall we?" he said cheerfully.  Jeff was already feeling uneasy.  The guy was too happy.  David Manning spent the next twenty minutes silently going over each page while Jeff continued to shift uncomfortably in his chair.  Finally, David looked up from the data and set his reading glasses down. “All of these volunteers are identified with numbers," he announced.  
“That’s correct," Jeff agreed. 

“In light of the reports we have received from other sources, and especially the Atlanta Journal Constitution, I will have to have the names of each individual before I can review this data."

Jeff and company had already assumed that Manning would demand this information.  Reaching into the briefcase, Jeff handed him the second package.  David Manning was presented with five hundred names and phone numbers.  “Well, that was very efficient," Manning said.  “I will have a decision for you sometime next week." 

“Great," Jeff said, standing to shake his hand.  David Manning did not respond and Jeff awkwardly put his hand in his coat pocket.  He left the office wondering what was going on in the man’s head.

David Manning looked at the data in disbelief.  Despite all the trouble Dominex reportedly had had with this study, the results were glowing.  A minor two percent were reported to have had difficulty with the termination; however, symptoms were not conclusively connected to the stopping of their medication.  David picked up his phone and waited.  “Winston,” he began, “I have the Dominex data.  Tell your group to meet me in the conference room.  It’s going to be a long weekend.”  He hung up the phone feeling charged and ready for the kill.  They were not going to do spot checks.  He intended to contact all five hundred volunteers, and there was no better time to reach people at home than after five and on the weekends.  If there was one piece of information reported incorrectly, they would be required to re-do the entire study.  Manning couldn’t wait to see them fry.

He picked up the two envelopes and headed out the door.  He told his secretary to call his wife and let her know that the Dominex data had arrived.  “She’ll know what that means," he explained to her.  They had been discussing Dominex for months.  She wasn’t going to see much of him this weekend.  When he arrived at the conference room doorway, all of the five designated personnel were waiting for him. 

Winston Barber had been assigned to head the review of the final data, along with four other department members.  Manning had chosen him due to his past eagerness to work overtime.  Winston was a hungry, twenty three year old up-start addition to the FDA.  He was never opposed to working long hours or weekends, unlike the standard company issued federal workers that put in their thirty-five hours and disappeared.  Manning couldn’t even fathom what the reaction would have been from most of the FDA employees, had he approached them with this weekend plan.

“Thank you all for volunteering for this project," David began.  The truth was that the overtime money was only part of the incentive.  David had promised each one of them a week off with pay for working through the weekend.  All five people nodded acceptance of his praise.  “We have five hundred phone calls to make,” he continued.  “I will be here to monitor our progress."  Handing the second package to Winston, he said, “We will need five copies of this list.  You can divide the list alphabetically or by hundreds, it doesn’t matter, as long as each person is contacted."

Winston handed the package to one of his team, and said, “Five, please."  The young man sprinted up out of the chair to get to a copy machine.  “We will need very specific information.  I want to know exactly how they responded to the drug termination.  Words like ‘okay,’ will not be acceptable.  People have a tendency to define themselves in vague terms.  It will be your responsibility to facilitate specific language.  Asking them to assign their symptoms to a number on a scale from one to ten is the best way to get a sense of each person‘s response.  It’s still very subjective, but it’s a better tool than descriptive words.  Any questions?"  

A young female employee raised a tentative hand. 

“What do you want us to do if we are unable to reach someone on our list?" 

“Make a note of it," David instructed.  “Some of these people may be away for the weekend, et cetera.  We can continue to contact those people on Monday. Anything else?"  He looked around the room.  “In that case, I’ll turn this over to Winston." 

David headed back to his domain.  The conference room had been equipped with five phones that were made accessible to David’s office for monitoring purposes.  Not only could he scrutinize the volunteers’ responses, he could also supervise the way the contacts were being handled.  He sat down and put his feet up on his desk.  The group would need some time to get organized.  He decided to spend the down time looking at pictures of his retirement cabin.  The future was painted with vivid colors of David, fishing every day, and Dominex in the shitter.  Life was good.

Jason and Sandra sat quietly in a cubicle, doing damage control.  “We know they intend to submit the data with total confidence,” Jason said.

“I just don’t know how they will be able to pull this off," Sandra countered.  “The study was a total failure.  More than half of the volunteers got so sick they had to get back on their meds or suffer horrible withdrawal symptoms.  An additional thirty percent weren’t as bad off, but they still felt so uncomfortable they dropped out, too.” 

“That left under twenty percent of the volunteers," Jason interjected.  

Sandra started doodling on a scratch pad. 

“Well, they can’t just submit twenty percent," she said, scratching out her handiwork. 

“Let me see that," Jason said, grabbing the pad.  “Create five identities for each of the remaining volunteers?"  

“It’s all I can come up with." 

“That’s ridiculous," Jason laughed.  “Don’t you think the FDA would pick up on that?" 

“Depends," Sandra said reflectively.  

Jason looked at her for a moment.

“Oh, Sandra, wait a minute.  You are not suggesting that we actually investigate the FDA for corruption?  Remember what Cox said?" 

“Yes, and I don’t think Wendy would actually stab us." 

“We already had the paper’s ass on the line once.  I don’t think I want to go that route again.” 

“Fine," she said unconvincingly. “No stories.  But we can at least keep an eye on what’s going on." 

“You are a dangerous person," Jason observed. 

“The Sun Times declined to run our story because of the lack of evidence and that bogus lawsuit," she added.  “Maybe we can at least provide them with some added credibility.  If they ran the story, I bet other cities would too."  

Jason nodded his understanding.  They had hit on something big, and even though it was considered to be dangerous topic, their only hope of blowing the whistle on Dominex and the whole sedative issue was to go nationwide with the information. Some national publicity wouldn’t hurt either one of their careers either. 

This was a nightmare.  David listened to call after call of individuals confirming the ease at which they had sailed through the research study.  This can’t be right.  It was Saturday evening and they were half-way through the list.  Everything he’d heard about the study indicated that it had been a rough ride for most of the volunteers.  Yet they were all confirming what Dominex had reported.  He decided his presence in this process was now imperative.

David walked down to the conference room.  He was going to visit some of these people.  Taking Winston’s master list, he circled three random names and jotted down the phone numbers.  Handing the list back to Winston, he said, “I’ll make these contacts myself."

First, he had to call the volunteers and find out where they lived.  The first name he had chosen was Dan Copeland.  He dialed the number and waited.  No response.  He went to number two, a Cynthia Harris.  She answered on the third ring.  David identified himself and the reason for his call.  “Well, normally I’d love to meet to with you," she offered, “but I have a sick child.  Can we do this over the phone?"  David needed to see some of these people face to face, but didn’t want to be rude about it. 

“Sure," he agreed.  “Can you describe your experience with the research study?" 

“Oh, I almost forgot I was in the bloody thing," she laughed.  “You know, not only did I not feel any discomfort from going off my medication, I found out that I really didn’t need it anymore." 

“That’s good," David said flatly. 

“Really," she agreed, oblivious to his strange reaction.  “All along, I was trying to get my meds for free.  Instead, I’m free from my meds."  She laughed and David attempted an understanding chuckle, but it caught in his throat. 

“I appreciate your time," he concluded. 

“No problem,” she said, cheerfully and hung up.  

Shaking his head in disbelief, he dialed the third number.  Sara Morgan answered the call out of breath.  “Hold on," she said.  David waited.  “Sorry, I ran all the way up the steps when the phone rang.  I had to catch my breath.”  David felt hopeful.  Maybe the poor girl was so sick from withdrawal that she was out of breath all the time.  He told her who he was, and why he was calling.  

“Oh yeah," Sara began.  “Is the study over all ready?"  David confirmed that it was.  “You know,” she continued, “I thought six weeks without my medication would be an eternity."  David could feel himself sink into the chair.  “I was taking it for panic attacks," she told him, “and I was a little worried about the outcome.  Don’t tell anyone at Dominex, but I told them I had been on the drug for PMS.  That’s how I got into the study.  But my whole family said it was a good idea, so I said whatever I had to for the lifetime of free meds they were offering.  I did really well," she concluded. 

“Did you have any discomfort during the study?" David asked, hopefully.

“No, none.  My family wants me to stay off the medication, but a lifetime of free stuff, well, I don’t think I can pass that up."  David asked her if she would be willing to meet with him for a face-to-face confirmation. “Oh, sorry,” she offered.  “I’m in school, and finals are next week.  I need every moment."  David said he understood and wished her luck on her exams.

Both people he’d contacted had been unable to meet with him.  Was that strange?  He didn’t know, but he was determined to contact a few more.  He picked up the phone and dialed Winston’s extension.  He was on the phone, but would be able to see his intercom button light up.  David would wait.  Thirty seconds later, Winston ended his call and grabbed the second one.  “Give me three people that you have already spoken to.  Preferably ones that you have spoken to recently, so that I have a good chance of reaching them." David could hear papers being shuffled. 

“Here you go," Winston said finally, and gave him the information.

David made three more contacts.  In each case, the person was friendly and helpful, but for a number of reasons, unable to see him.  All gave him glowing descriptions of their experience in the study.  I give up, he thought.  Something is very wrong here, but I can’t figure out what it is.  He continued to monitor the calls with half an ear.  His hopes of destroying Dominex were fading.  How did those criminals pull this off?

George Donovan had had his day in court and was pretty happy about the outcome.  They’d used him and they had paid for it.  His own personal issue, however, was far from resolved.  The medical board was breathing down his neck.  They had made themselves at home in his office for the past several days.  He’d painstakingly gone through every chart and destroyed a few that were impossible to “repair.”  His office was squeaky clean, but his anxiety level was been going through the roof. 

Finally, on Friday, Sally sent him home.  “You don’t understand, George," she told him. “I’m not requesting that you go home, I’m threatening your life if you don’t.  You’re driving me and everyone else crazy."  

Donovan quietly obeyed her.  Now, while everyone else in the free world was having a weekend, he was obsessing about Monday. 

“George, stop pacing," Sally demanded. 

“The Medical Board will be back in droves tomorrow," he informed her.  

Sally looked up from her June bride magazine and gave him a hard stare. “George, two people are not a drove.  Actually," she reflected, “I’m not sure how many are in a drove.  Must be at least ten, though." 

“Are you enjoying yourself?"  

“Come on," she coaxed, “sit down.  You’ve already done at least a mile.  Besides, the investigator said that they would probably be done by the end of the day on Monday.  So far, they have found nothing." 

Donovan sat down and let out a long stream of air.  “Sally, I’ve been thinking." 

“I feel a nightmare coming on," she groaned. 

“No, seriously," he said, taking her hand.  “My practice has been a travesty.  I’ve made a fortune off of desperate addicts.  And what have I done for them?" Sally did not offer an answer.  “I’ve helped them stay addicted," he said, answering his own question. 

“Well, we always told ourselves that they would find their drugs somewhere, so it might as well be from us."  

“Yeah," Donovan agreed.  “That was very convenient.  It’s possible that some of them might have actually considered not using if it hadn’t been so easy to get what they wanted.” 

“I doubt that," Sally said. 

“Well, regardless,” Donovan continued, “what does it say about our life’s work when we have to change all our records and hide from the medical board?"  Sally nodded her understanding.  “What will we tell our son or daughter?  Mommy and Daddy are licensed drug dealers?" 

“I see your point.  So, what do you want to do about it?"

“Let’s shift sides," he announced. 

“Become addicts?" she interjected. 

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.  We could treat addicts," he stated.  “No one else in the field understands addiction the way I do.  People can’t stop taking pain pills and sedatives cold turkey without becoming dangerously ill and most doctors do not understand that.  Hell, they send people to detox for a few days, wait for them to stop throwing up, stabilize their blood pressure, and tell them to go to AA.  Meanwhile, the person feels like Mr. Death has become a permanent roommate. You have to slowly wean patients off of pills, and since there’s no protocol for doing that, doctors won’t touch it." 

“Addicts don’t wean well," Sally interjected. 

“That’s why they need to be in a locked facility."

“Okay, you’ve lost me," Sally said.  “We pay rent for a small medical office.  Where are you going to put these people?" 

“We stop paying rent," he explained.  “The cost of that place is exorbitant.  We can pay for an entire building somewhere else, preferably outside the city.”  

Sally thought for a few minutes. 

“It could work," she agreed. 

“We owe it to the baby," Donovan said, squeezing her hand.  “Hell, we owe it to society." 

Sally couldn’t believe the turnaround she was watching.  The whole experience with Dominex Pharmaceuticals must have really taken its toll on him.  That and the baby had been his wake up call.  She would help make this happen.    

On Sunday afternoon, David Manning couldn’t stand another moment of “Pleasantville.”  He dialed information and, with the phone number in hand, had accessed one of the volunteer’s addresses.  If the person was home, they would see him, because he had just driven into their driveway, unannounced.  It was two-thirty in the afternoon, not an inappropriate time to drop in on someone.

Leonard Sampson answered the door.  He was wearing sweat pants and a tee shirt, and was holding a can of Bud light.  David could hear a baseball game playing loudly in the background.  He gave the man his standard introduction and asked if he could have a moment of his time.  “You’re from the FDA?" Leonard asked, incredulously.  David nodded.  “I didn’t think you guys made house calls," he said, backing up a few steps. 

“This is an important evaluation," David explained. 

“I wish you had called," Leonard said, nervously.  “I was on my out the door."  David looked at the man’s shoeless attire.  He had obviously not brushed his hair and had missed his morning shave. 

“I don’t want to inconvenience you,” David said politely, “but as I said, this is an important evaluation.  I only need a moment of your time."

“I don’t know what I can tell you," the man said, moving to the door.  He was holding the doorknob as if he were ushering his visitor back outside.  David did not budge. 

“Could we sit somewhere for a minute?" Manning pressed. 

“My wife is taking a nap," he stuttered.  “We can sit on the front porch."  David realized he was not going to gain access into this man’s house and followed him outside.

The man began rocking nervously in his chair.  

“Can you tell me about your experience in the research study?" David prompted. 

“Well, it was very uneventful," Leonard began. 

“Could you describe what you mean?" 

“I stopped taking my medication.  Had a few bad night’s sleep.”  There was a long pause, and David waited but the cryptic monologue had ended.   

“Anything else?" David said with an edge of annoyance. 

“No," Leonard answered, “Not that I can remember.”  The rocking had accelerated to double time.  David thought he might see Leonard launch himself into outer space.

“Well, if that’s it," the man said, getting to his feet, “I really have to leave.  I’m late as it is." 

“Sure," David said, standing as well.  “Thank you for your time."  

David went to his car and drove back down the street about twenty yards.  He pulled off to the side of the road in front of another vehicle and parked.  After a half hour of waiting, he was convinced that Leonard was not going anywhere, but back in front of his TV.  What is up with these people?  Maybe a side effect of going off their medication was paranoia, because this group appeared to be eaten up with it.  He could order psychiatric evaluations on every volunteer, but on what basis?  He couldn’t very well base it on the fact that none of them wanted to see him.  He would sound like the one in need of some psychiatric care.  “This is nuts," he said, pulling away from the curb.

On Monday morning, Carol received a visit from a tall, lanky man claiming to be from the Georgia State Medical Board.  “You’re actually following up on my complaint?" Carol said, leading the man into the living room. 

“We follow up on all complaints," the man informed her. 

“Uh huh," Carol said skeptically.  “Can I get you anything to drink?"   

“No, thank you.  This will only take a few minutes.  Now, Mrs. Freeman," the man began, “can you tell me more about this drug screen you referred to in your letter?"  

Carol forgot all about the protest that was on the tip of her tongue.  She hated being called Mrs. anybody.  The man was asking for more information about the drug screen she had done for Brian Carter, alias Lorenzo White. 

“I no longer have access to that information," Carol improvised. 

“And why is that?"  

“Because I no longer work for the mental health center.  The records are their domain." 

“I see," the man said suspiciously. 

“You would need a release of information from Brian Carter," Carol offered helpfully.  “In fact, you would have needed a release from him anyway."

“Do you have a phone number for Brian Carter?" the man said, tiredly.  Carol went off to find Brian’s phone number and scribbled it down on a piece of paper for him.  The man left, armed with the information, and got back into his car.  The guy did not look happy about all the extra running around that Carol had caused him.  Thank God for bureaucracy, she thought.  It had never worked in her favor before.

Brian would never sign a release of information because there was no information under Brian Carter’s name to release.  She wondered how the tall, lanky man would react to Brian’s refusal.  Not my problem.  She had spent her short life’s work trying to force the system to give the little guy a break.  Up until now the system had been an inflexible and uncaring force.  She owed them nothing.

Sally brought a cup of coffee into Donovan’s office and set it down in front of him.  “Are they still here?" he asked. 

“One is," Sally responded.  “The other one hasn’t made it in as yet."

“What is he doing?" the doctor inquired, tiredly. 

“Going through charts, what else?"  

Donovan just let out a tired sigh.

“They were all over Brian Carter’s chart three times on Friday," she reported, “and once more today." 

“What’s so special about Carter?" he wondered out loud. 

“I don’t know," Sally said. “But whatever it is, they can’t seem to find it." 

Just then there was a knock on the door, and the second Medical Board Examiner appeared in the doorway. 

“Just wanted to let you know that we’re done here."

“Is there any problem?" Sally asked innocently.   

“No, everything seems to be in order.  The complaint remains on your record, but our findings show nothing and that will be in the record as well."  

Donovan wanted to grab the guy and dance around the room with him. 

“Well, thanks so much for coming," he said instead.  Sally just looked at him in disbelief.  It was a good thing he had decided to move onto a safer track.  What little nerve he had once had was gone, and he was now a stuttering moron in the face of diversity.

The two men left the doctor’s office.  When they got into the elevator, the Medical Board Examiner hit the button for the ground floor.  “That whole operation might be a total scam," he said to the other examiner.  “But without any hard evidence…" 

“Couldn’t get anything from Carter, huh?" the first asked. 

“Not only did Carter refuse to sign a release, he practically kicked me out of his house.” 

“Weird," the first man said, stepping out into the lobby.    

David Manning was not prepared to sign off on the research study.  Over the weekend, they had contacted about ninety percent of the volunteers.  All of them confirmed the information supplied by Dominex.  There’d been little to no adverse reaction to the drug termination.  Some of them reported feeling better as a result and praised the drug for curing them of their previous ailment.  Give me a break, David thought.  He wasn’t a doctor, but a sedative curing an anxiety disorder?  It was too much for his simple mind to absorb.

There had to be an explanation for all this, but he hadn’t found it.  If something substantial didn’t come out of the remaining ten percent, he was going to have to sign on the dotted line.  He would have rather stuck needles in his eyes, but he wouldn’t be able to reasonably justify another delay.

David picked up his phone and dialed in the code to access the call activity in the conference room.  He listened to the steady drone of conversation that was identical to the calls he’d heard over the weekend.  His head was splitting from the tension.  Placing the current call on his speaker, he reached with his free hand for the aspirin in his drawer.  He swallowed three of them with his cold morning coffee.  Dealing with Dominex had taken him to whole new level.  He was now washing down pain medication with caffeine.

There was a light tap on his door, and his secretary popped her head in a five-inch opening.  “Mr. Manning," she whispered, “there’s someone here to see you." David ended the call he was listening to and looked at her for more information.  “Sorry to interrupt, but the phone line has been busy for a long time.” 

“That’s okay," David told her.  “I was only monitoring the calls." 

“I figured that," his secretary said, opening the door wider.  “There’s a Sheila Montgomery here to see you."  

David repeated the name and gave her an absent look. 

“I give up," he said finally, “who is she?" 

“She said she is with Dominex."  

David just groaned and put his head in his hands. 

“Those vultures won’t be happy until I have a stroke.  Please tell her that I’m not done with the analysis and won’t be seeing anyone from Dominex until I’m finished.” 

“You got it," she said cheerfully, and closed the door.

David punched the code into his phone, and continued listening to the depressing dialogue.  He was in the process of fishing out one more aspirin, when his secretary reappeared.  David disconnected the call and looked up.  “What?" he prompted. 

“Mr. Manning, she said she really has to see you and that you’ll be glad you met with her." 

“What the hell, it can’t possibly get any worse."

“Mr. Manning will see you now," the girl announced from the doorway, and went back to her desk, leaving the door open for Sheila. 

“Thanks for seeing me," Sheila said, as she made her way into his office.  

David just nodded. 

“What can I do for you?" he said flatly. 

“Mr. Manning, the question today is, what can I do for you?"  

David sat up and looked at the woman seated in front of him.  She was beautiful and energetic. And something else caught his attention.  She was holding a thick business size envelope.

Without another word, Sheila happily presented David Manning with the only thing that was going to allow him to retire in peace.  “What’s this?" he asked, opening the envelope.  Sheila didn’t answer him.  One packet of information was worth a thousand words.  “This is a list of five hundred research