Alan Jacobson - False accusations

“ 0kayyy, ”Hellman said, nodding his head, “now things are starting to make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sexual harassment.”

“What sexual harassment? I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Doesn’t matter. Can you think of anything else, like maybe you told her sexually suggestive jokes or hinted at special employment considerations that could be made if she did something for you…”

“Jeffrey! What’s wrong with you? You know me better-”

Hellman was waving his hands in front of Madison, glancing side to side to see if any of the other patrons were looking. “Calm down, Phil. I was just asking a question. The police are no doubt going to ask you that question as well. If you explode like that-”

“I won’t explode. I was just…” he paused, searching for the right word, “insulted that you would even ask me that. You, of all people.”

“Me of all people is your attorney. Asking you questions like that is my job. Now, let’s get back on track. So you made no innuendoes, no remarks that could be taken the wrong way?”

“Nothing. In fact, when we went to dinner a couple of weeks ago, I even told her that she should put in an application for the position.”

“Dinner? You went to dinner with her?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Where?”

“Fifth Street Cafe.”

“The Fifth Street Cafe? Could you have picked a more trendy, romantic place?”

“Oh, come on, Jeffrey.”

“Phil, I’m just trying to point out-”

“Don’t point out. Just look at the facts. We had a meeting to discuss programming for the up-and-coming seminar. That was it. We started talking about her caustic attitude toward people, and we got into a minor disagreement. I told her that she should consider the fact that the position was going to be opened up to other applicants. I wanted her to realize that she was going to have to fight for her job, to shape up or get out.”

“Was anyone else at this meeting with you?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” was all Hellman said, falling silent, chewing on his veal.

“Look, nothing happened. She didn’t keep the job, did she?”

“That’s why she’s so pissed. She’ll say you reneged on your deal.”

“See, that’s the thing. There was no deal.” Madison shook his head. “What are we looking at here?”

“I’ll know more once we meet with the detectives. Obviously they don’t have enough evidence yet to charge you. We’ll go meet with them and see what they have to say. Just keep your mouth shut. Answer the questions they ask with as few words as possible. No details. In other words, don’t volunteer any information they don’t directly ask you.”

“Like a deposition or court trial.”

“Exactly,” he said, chewing. “And if they ask a question that I don’t want you to answer, I’ll stop you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

They chewed on their food some more. Both sat in silence. Madison pulled out his DayTracker wallet and thumbed through the pages.

“What’s the matter?”

“September eleventh was a Thursday, the day Leeza and the kids went to L.A. I bet that was the night when Brittany dropped by my house complaining of abdominal pain.”

“She did what?”

“She came by and said that she had gone to the Quick-Care clinic for treatment of abdominal pain, but the nurse practitioner saw her and blew her off. She was having a lot of cramping. I took a quick look at her, and told her that I thought it was just irritable bowel syndrome.”

Hellman put his fork down. “Can you define what you mean by taking ‘a quick look at her’?”

“A cursory abdominal exam. To rule out appendicitis, hepatitis, aneurysm-”

“How long did this exam take?”

“A minute, maybe. It was nothing, really.”

“And that was it?”

“I told her to follow up with her doc in the morning. She was feeling better, relieved that it wasn’t anything major, and she left.”

Hellman took a drink of water. Swallowed, deep in thought. “No one saw her there? I mean, no one dropped by, no UPS deliveries, nothing like that?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s not in your appointment book, and it’s probably not in hers, because she dropped by unexpectedly, right?”

“It wasn’t a meeting or anything.”

“Okay.” He paused. “Who was the doctor she was going to see the next day?”

“It was…John Vincente. Family practitioner.”

“Know him?”

“No, but I know of him.”

Hellman pulled out his phone and called Information, jotted down Dr. Vincente’s office number, and input it. Sat and listened. “Yes, hi, this is Elmore Elkins, a claims adjuster for California Prudent Health PPO. I have a claim form here submitted by a Brittany Harding, with a date of service of September twelfth. But when I try to input it into the system, I see that she went off our plan on September tenth. I’d like to pay this bill, but can you tell me if Miss Harding was in your office on that date?” He looked up at Madison, who was stifling a smile. “She wasn’t? Okay, then when was the last time she was at your facility?… May fifteenth for her annual Pap?… Okay, great, then this must be a mistake. Thanks for your help.” He ended the call and looked at Madison.

“Do people do that to my office staff too?”

Hellman set his phone down on the table. “It’s easier to get info from medical offices than people think.”

“So much for the HIPAA Privacy Rule.”

“She never went in to see Dr. Vincente after you saw her, so there’s nothing documented in his records about her having been examined by you.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So I don’t think you should bring it up.”

Madison made a face, as if to say “I don’t know.”

“Look, Phil, nothing happened, am I right?”

“Right.”

“So why arouse suspicion by putting yourself in a vulnerable position? Your wife and kids are away, here’s a beautiful woman who you admit came over to your house in the evening, you play a little cutesy game of doctor and then you make sexual overtures. Do you see what they can make it look like?”

“So I shouldn’t say that she was even there.”

“I’m not telling you to lie,” Hellman said. “Just don’t bring it up.”

Madison shrugged. “No one saw her come by. There’s no way they could even prove she was there.”

“Then stop worrying. Besides, if they ask you about it, you could just say that you forgot about it, you didn’t have anything written in your calendar, and you see so many patients and have so many meetings, that you can’t even remember what happened yesterday, let alone six weeks ago. Then, just tell them the truth.” He looked hard at Madison. “Okay?”

Madison hesitated. “I guess.”

“Phil,” he said, putting his fork down. “You have nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of this. You did nothing wrong. We’ll make it go away.”

Madison sighed. “While you’re at it, make her go away too.”

“Miracles,” Hellman said, “have been known to happen.”

It was nearly six o’clock that evening when they entered the interview room with Detectives Coleman and Valentine. It was dimly lit, a few bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The medium-sized room was just large enough to hold a rectangular table, which measured about six feet by four feet. Madison and Hellman were sitting with their backs to the wall. Coleman, entering and introducing himself to Hellman, told them that Detective Valentine would be joining them shortly.

“So are you going to charge my client?” Hellman asked, getting right to the point.

“Nobody’s been charged with anything. This is strictly an interview.”