Chapter 8

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A/N – This is where the courtroom craziness begins. If Michaela can perform miracles in her humble clinic (brain surgery, plastic surgery, etc.) and get away with it, then Andrew's trial can get a bit absurd. This entire premise is all in good fun anyway, so I ask you to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. I think it will be worth it in the end :-).

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Andrew made his way forward from the defense table to the witness stand, prompting many in the audience to begin muttering. Some were confused, others were appalled. "Imagine the nerve, posing as a doctor!" one voice was clearly heard to say before the mumblings subsided as Andrew was sworn in.

"Do you swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, so help you God?" asked the bailiff.

"I do." Andrew sat and did his best to ignore the many faces now staring at him with open contempt and disapproval. The expression on Dorothy's face was one of concern.

"For the record, please tell us your name."

"Dr. Andrew Cook." Moreland had directed Andrew to use his title in stating his name. It was important to establish his credentials early.

"Do you go by any other names?"

"No, I do not."

"Dr. Cook, where were you born?"

"Boston, Massachusetts. I've lived there my entire life. Well, until recently, when I came out here."

"And how long have you been a doctor?"

"I graduated this past spring from Harvard Medical School."

"Your honor, I have a telegram here from Harvard Medical School, verifying Dr. Cook's attendance the last two years and his recent graduation." Moreland handed the judge the slip of paper.

"Indeed," said the judge, reading the telegram. "Valedictorian."

Andrew squirmed slightly in the chair, embarrassed. He had worked diligently to finish top of his class, but it felt immodest to boast about it.

"So, doctor, is it safe to say that due to your attendance in medical school these past two years you deny taking any part in the fraudulent scheme which occurred here in the Colorado Territory that was laid out in court today by the prosecution?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"And you further deny that you are the individual depicted on the Wanted poster."

"Yes. I cannot deny that there is a great deal of similarity in our facial features, but that is not me."

"Dr. Cook, why did you come out west to the Colorado Territory?"

"I was invited out here by Mrs. Elizabeth Quinn of Boston. Her daughter, Dr. Michaela Quinn, was about to give birth and needed someone to run her clinic while she took time off after having her baby."

"Your honor, I have an affidavit from Dr. Quinn of Colorado Springs, verifying Dr. Cook's account. You will note that her statement also vouches for his medical skill."

Judge Keene took the document. "A lady doctor," he commented, raising an eyebrow.

This was the point Moreland had planned to turn in the affidavits from Andrew's patients. Unfortunately, the meager stack of paper was so slight compared to the thick stack Bigalow had turned in, he feared the jury would be swayed simply by the large difference in quantity. So, on the spur of the moment he changed his mind. Treating minor aches and pains wasn't terribly impressive anyway and wouldn't prove anything. He needed to cut to the chase.

"Doctor, have you performed any surgeries since you've been residing in the territory?"

"Yes, I had to perform one shortly after I arrived."

"And could you tell us what happened?"

"Certainly. The patient has given me permission to discuss his case. Horace Bing was suffering from biliary colic. Unfortunately, cholecystitis developed, and I was forced to surgically extract the calculi which were blocking the duct." Moreland had instructed Andrew to use the medical jargon in court to demonstrate his medical expertise.

"In English, please?"

"The patient suffered from gallstones, which ultimately required surgical intervention."

"And how did this operation go? Did the patient survive?"

Andrew smiled in both relief and elation that his first solo operation had had a positive result, and that he could report the favorable outcome to a doubting courtroom. "I'm happy to say Horace made a complete recovery. No complications."

"Thank you, Dr. Cook." Moreland nodded toward Bigalow, indicating it was his turn, before sitting down.

"Valedictorian… that's quite impressive," the prosecutor began. "That's not the type of news that would be kept secret, would it?"

Flummoxed, Andrew replied, "I don't… I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're asking."

"Graduations. Commencements. Honors. Aren't these achievements typically announced in the newspapers?"

Andrew still wasn't sure where this was going, but he had a bad feeling about it as he answered. "Yes, they are."

"So, it's possible that someone could have seen the name 'Andrew Cook' in the paper, proudly reported as Harvard Medical School's class valedictorian, and usurped it for their own purpose, couldn't they?"

A low murmur spread throughout the courtroom, and Andrew's heart sank. "I… I suppose someone could, but I'm not-"

The prosecutor continued his conjecture, not allowing Andrew to finish his denial. "In fact, someone who has previously posed as someone else – specifically, an alumnus from a prestigious eastern institution - and had gotten away with it – they might have no hesitation in doing so again, isn't that right?"

"Objection," called Moreland. "Argumentative."

"Your honor, I'm merely asking if this is a possible scenario of events," countered Bigalow.

"I agree," said Judge Keene. "Objection overruled. Please answer the question. Is it possible?"

Reluctantly, Andrew did. "Yes, but I'm telling you-"

"And this hypothetical individual, in choosing to pose as a doctor, might rifle through patient files and brag about accomplishments performed by another?"

"I suppose someone could, but-"

"And it's entirely possible that such an individual might even go so far as to bribe the local lawman to look the other way when they arrived in town."

This last supposition generated louder murmurings than before, and Keene rapped his gavel. "Settle down. The witness will answer the question."

Andrew sat there, immensely frustrated. "I suppose what you have hypothesized is possible, but that's not what happened."

"And yet the possibility exists. No further questions." Bigalow sat down, a triumphant smile on his face.

"Redirect, your honor?" called Moreland.

The judge nodded.

"Dr. Cook," Moreland said, deliberately emphasizing Andrew's title, "did you bribe the sheriff of Colorado Springs when you arrived in town?"

"No, I did not." Andrew's voice was firm.

"And would an imposter, such as the type which Mr. Bigalow hypothesizes, be able to perform surgery on a patient? Wait, let me rephrase the question. Would such an imposter be able to successfully perform the type of surgery you performed on your patient and have the patient recover fully?"

"No, they would not."

"And how can you be certain of this?"

"Because it takes specialized knowledge and training to perform such a procedure."

"The type of knowledge and training one learns in medical school?"

"Yes. Exactly." Andrew glowered at Bigalow.

"Thank you. Your honor, I request a recess to allow my other witnesses to arrive."

"Court is in recess until one-thirty." Keene pounded the gavel.

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Andrew, Moreland, and Dorothy met back at the jailhouse for lunch, since Andrew was required to eat there. It was the same stew he'd eaten for a week now. His breakfast of eggs and supper of meatloaf had remained the same, too - the cuisine clearly not intended for long-term stays at the facility. The food was tasty but had become monotonous. Andrew found himself with little appetite, dispirited by both the repetitive food and the morning in court. Disheartened, he listened in silence as his companions reviewed the situation.

"It's bad, isn't it?" asked Dorothy, referring to the trial and not the stew.

"We knew it would be," Moreland replied, wiping his lips with his napkin. "George is just doing his job, doing everything he can to discredit the Doc's story. All we can do now is present our evidence that he performed the operation he said he did, with Mr. Bing's and Reverend Johnson's testimonies."

"But couldn't Matthew tell the jury he wasn't bribed?"

"He could, but even if your lawman swore in court that he wasn't on the take, it emphasizes the fact that he failed to make an arrest of a suspect when he had the chance. That would still make him look incompetent. I'm sure you don't want that."

"Oh, dear, I hadn't thought of it that way."

Moreland let out a weary breath. "Though you're right, Mrs. Jennings, it would be nice if we had someone else able to give oral testimony, an individual who could vouch for the Doc's story or his medical know-how. A shame Dr. Quinn can't be here in person. The affidavit helps but there's nothing like in-person testimony to sway a jury."

Though he hadn't stated so specifically, Andrew knew the lawyer was lamenting the fact that he couldn't put his parents on the stand.

"What about Colleen?" suggested Dorothy, taking Andrew by surprise. "She's been at he clinic most every day."

"Colleen… I know that name… she was one of your visitors, right?" Moreland asked Andrew.

Andrew startled. "Yes. How do you know that?"

"All jailhouse visitors are recorded. She has the same last name as the sheriff. Cooper. What's the story there?"

"They're siblings," replied Andrew, still trying to process the idea of Colleen testifying. She had some medical knowledge, certainly, but not enough to be any kind of expert witness.

"That wouldn't be a problem, would it?" asked Dorothy.

Moreland considered it. "It shouldn't be. She's not responsible for her brother's actions. Although George under redirect might try to make something of it." He again addressed Andrew. "Is she your girl?"

Dorothy did her best to hide her smile at that romantic notion.

Flustered at the suggestion that he and Colleen were a couple, Andrew replied, "Oh, no, no, no… Colleen's… uh, Colleen's Dr. Quinn's daughter. She's been providing me with assistance at the clinic."

"She's done more than that, Andrew," said Dorothy. "She helped you with Horace's operation."

"She helped you?" repeated Moreland, clearly intrigued. "She actually watched you perform the operation?"

"Uh, yes. She did."

"Why didn't you mention her before, Doc?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Moreland, I guess I… I didn't realize she would be important."

The lawyer paused to formulate a plan. "There's still the afternoon train," he said, thinking out loud. "We could send a wire, get her here, and have her testify first thing in the morning."

"You mean she'd need to stay the night by herself?" Andrew asked worriedly.

"She can share my room at the hotel," offered Dorothy. "What Preston don't know won't hurt him."

"It's settled then. Mrs. Jennings, let's get that telegram sent before court resumes." Moreland nodded at Andrew. "See you in court, Doc."

Andrew watched them leave the jail, hopeful yet worried. He hoped that the combined testimonies of Horace, the Reverend, and now Colleen would be enough to persuade the jury that he was a real doctor. But there was a tinge of worry mixed in from Moreland's comment about what might happen to Colleen under redirect from the prosecutor.

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