Page 16 of Wistful Whispers
Someone who doesn’t make mistakes.
Yet, he did.
And, here we are.
I flip through a stack of papers, skimming the highlights of his career—a staggering list of achievements, groundbreaking innovations, and accolades which, taken as a whole, make him practically untouchable.
“He’s been continuously funded by the NIH since the nineties,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone in the room.
“His research has changed how neurosurgeons approach tumor removal,” adds Ethan Reyes, one of the associates, his eyes brimming with reluctant admiration. “Caldwell essentially pioneered intraoperative imaging guidanceanddeveloped new drug delivery systems for targeted chemotherapy. The man is a genius.”
I don’t argue.
I know he’s a genius.
I also know none of it matters. He failed Miranda Black.
“Genius or not,” I set my stack of documents down, “he deviated from the standard of care. He took an unnecessary risk and he’s still liable for what happened to Miranda.”
The slight hesitation in Ethan’s posture tells me he’s conflicted. Skeptical about how we’re going to have to sell this to a jury. A man like Caldwell commands instant respect. Convincing twelve people a world-renowned surgeon made a catastrophic mistake won’t be easy.
That’s where I come in.
I’m going to teach these young lawyers how to win.
Ethan and Natalie Cho, the other associate, are whip smart and ambitious—the same way I was at their age. I catch Natalie chewing on the end of her pen. Fidgeting. Worried.
“Let’s focus on strategy.” I flip to the next section of my notes. “I want to start with his career—set the stage. Walk him through his credentials, his accomplishments. Establish how important he thinks he is.”
Ethan smirks. “You want to inflate his ego before you take a scalpel to it.”
“Something along those lines.” I peer at him over my reading glasses.
At the other end of the table, Natalie scrolls through a document, then suddenly stops. “Wait. I think I found something. In multiple interviews, Caldwell describes himself as a visionary in neurosurgery.” She looks up. “That has to mean something, right?”
Ethan leans back in his chair, tapping his pen against the table. “A visionary?” He exhales sharply. “Wow…bold.” His eyes flick to mine. “What does his monster ego say about him?”
I decide to let them puzzle it out. “Think about it. What kind of person calls themselves a visionary in a field where precision and humility are everything?”
“An asshole?” Natalie’s brows furrow.
I laugh. “True. How can we use this?”
“Focus on the arrogance.” Ethan snaps his fingers. “He doesn’t think he can fail.”
“He probably hates criticism.” Natalie’s rolls her eyes. “Takes unnecessary risks because he believes his own bullshit.”
I nod, pleased. “Exactly. A surgeon who sees himself as untouchable is more likely to push boundaries and take risks without fully considering he could be responsible for the consequences.” I smack my palm on the table for emphasis. “When those risks backfire? Children like Miranda pay the price.”
A slow grin spreads across Ethan’s face. “So we paint him as a man who was so convinced of his own genius he ignored the warning signs?”
“We’re presenting the facts as we see them,” I remind him. “And, yes. You’re getting it. Let’s make sure Caldwell and his legal team understand they’re not in the driver’s seat—we are.”
Natalie leans back in her chair. “So what’s your plan?”
“We chip away at him. Start with the basics, work in the accolades and let him feel comfortable. Once we get into Miranda’s case, I want to walk him through every decision he made in the operating room. Every step.” I glance at Ethan. “When we get to the complication?”
“We make him defensive,” Ethan finishes.
