“True, but their point still sticks.”
“What about the locations of family planning clinics? Ours is right in the middle of a Black neighborhood. Isn’t that typical? That seems like something easy to find out. We can look up the addresses, and make the case that the clinics target our communities just by the location.”
He nodded. “Good idea.”
“So if Tuskegee doesn’t work, what if we linked it to abortion rights?”
“What do you mean?”
“Abortion and forced sterilization seem to me two sides of the same coin. On the one hand, they restrict our access to abortion. On the other hand, they tie our tubes. They got women caught between two rocks, Lou. Even with the Supreme Court decision, an abortion is still hard for poor women to get.”
“This is Alabama, Civil. I’m not sure we want to wade into the abortion waters.”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. “But it’s relevant. If we somehow draw a connection between the killing of unborn babies and unconceived babies, we might get the judge’s attention.”
“Too risky.”
“Look, a woman ought to have the right to end a pregnancy if she wants to. The issue in our case has to do with whether the women wanted to.”
“Civil.”
I carried on, ignoring him. “Seriously, what do you think?”
“Get me the addresses of those clinics. That’s a good place to start.”
“Fine.” I crossed my arms.
“You know, Civil, I had a law professor at Auburn. His name was Maddox. I clerked for his daddy for two years after law school. The old man taught me a very valuable lesson about trial law that I’ve never forgotten.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Take things one step at a time, and eventually your argument in court will reflect that precision. Passion is good. But only when it’s focused.”
“Sounds like he needed to loosen up,” I said, but I remembered it was similar to the advice Ty’s mom had given.
He unwrapped a Tums and put it between his teeth. “You don’t quit, do you.”
He had a point. My own spunk in recent months had surprised me. I’d always believed I was a cross product of my parents. Daddy, the cautious and conservative one. Mama, the impulsive artist. Maybe I was more than the sum of my parents.
The medical school admission book Alicia had given me was still up under my bed. I’d stuffed it under there as far as it could go. Alicia had said she became a nurse to prove that God was real. Well, I had gone to nursing school to make a difference.
I could not be cautious like Daddy, nor could I live in the clouds like Mama. I had to act.
* * *
? ? ?
THE NEXT DAY, Lou called three doctors to the witness stand. The first was a petite white man wearing a tweed jacket and small, round glasses, dressed more like a professor than a medical doctor. I scooted forward in my seat so I could hear him better, because he spoke softly.
“I am Dr. Walter Rosenstein, licensed to practice in the District of Columbia, and a specialist in internal medicine. I am director of the Health Research Group, a nonprofit public interest organization that conducts research and publishes articles related to health care.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I’m holding here a report—Exhibit F, Your Honor—authored and published by your organization, titled ‘Health Research Group Study on Surgical Sterilization—Present Abuses and Proposed Regulation.’ My goodness, that’s a mouthful. Did I get those words correct, Doctor?”
“Yes, sir.”
Lou walked back to the table as if to consult his notes. I never knew how much of his walking back and forth to read documents was courtroom theatrics. “For the court record, can you state the publication date of this report?”
“May of this year, sir. Approximately six months ago.”
“And could you explain to the court the contents of this report?”
The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose. “In our research, we gathered information from Baltimore City Hospital, Los Angeles County Hospital, and Boston City Hospital. In our findings, we documented numerous sterilization abuses in all of these hospitals.”
“Could you please describe what you mean by abuses?”
“Well, women—many of them Medicaid patients—were asked to consent to sterilization during childbirth, especially women who already had three or more children.”
“During childbirth?”
“Yes, sir. Most of the women reported that they had never discussed sterilization with the doctor prior to the delivery room. We also found that the forms they signed at Baltimore City Hospital consisted of only seven lines. The lines stated that the patient was voluntarily consenting to the sterilization and would in all probability never bear children again. There was no information provided on the form about the benefits, risks, or alternatives to sterilization.”
“Your Honor, we have a copy of the Baltimore City Hospital sterilization form.”
Lou waited while the judge reviewed it. Sunlight streamed through the window. It was one of those chilly fall mornings when the sun shone so brightly that you could not help but want to be outside. I knew with this kind of sunlight Mama would be in her studio all day. Daddy would try to wrap up his day as early as possible so he could get home to cook dinner. I had never been one for the outdoors, but I had awakened early that morning and sat in a chair on our back porch, looking out at the yard, watching as the leaves rose and fell with the wind.
“Dr. Rosenstein, did you find that the women were legally capable of consent?”
“Yes, they were legally capable in most instances.”
“But they were given limited information?”
“Yes, sir. We even found that many believed the procedure was entirely reversible, despite the form’s language.”
“So they believed sterilization was a temporary form of birth control?”
“Exactly, sir.”
“And many of them were poor women who received Medicaid?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I have no more questions, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Peters. Would you like to cross-examine?”
The government lawyer did not stand. “No, Your Honor.”
Weinberger was not in court today. On the defense side, it was just the three government lawyers. Two unidentified men sat in the pew directly behind the lawyers. Later, I would learn one was the Assistant Secretary, the other an Alabama congressman. Had I known who they were, I might have had a better guess as to how important the case was becoming. Lou didn’t appear concerned. He was like a soldier, looking neither right nor left. The government lawyer appeared relaxed as he asked his questions from the comfort of his swivel chair. Lou never stayed seated when he was examining a witness.
As Dr. Rosenstein left the witness stand, I noticed the smartness of his attire. I could not help but think that even with all his information and knowledge, he was powerless to stop the surgeries.
I wished I could see Lou’s face. His back was to me. He was trying to get the laws changed, and his case might be thrown out if the judge determined that the laws had already changed and there was no longer any need for injunctive relief.