"You had follow-up examinations with Dr. Gross?"
"Yes. Every three months."
"With what result?"
"Everything was normal. I gained weight, my strength came back, my hair grew back. I felt good."
"And then what happened?"
"About a year later, after one of my checkups, Dr. Gross called to say he needed to do more tests."
"Did he say why?"
"He said some of my blood work didn't look right."
"Did he say which tests, specifically?"
"No."
"Did he say you still had cancer?"
"No, but that's what I was afraid of. He had never repeated any tests before." Her father shifted in his chair. "I asked him if the cancer had come back, and he said, 'Not at this point, but we need to monitor you very closely.' He insisted I needed constant testing."
"How did you react?"
"I was terrified. In a way, it was worse the second time. When I was sick the first time, I made my will, made all the preparations. Then I got well and I got a new lease on life - a chance to start over. Then his phone call came, and I was terrified again."
"You believed you were sick."
"Of course. Why else would he be repeating tests?"
"You were frightened?"
"Terrified."
Watching the questioning, Alex thought,It's too bad we don't have pictures. Her father appeared vigorous and hearty. She remembered when he had been frail, gray, and weak. His clothes had hung on his frame; he looked like a dying man. Now he looked strong, like the construction worker he had been all his life. He didn't look like a man who became frightened easily. Alex knew these questions were essential to establish a basis for fraud, and a basis for mental distress. But it had to be done carefully. And their lead lawyer, she knew, had a bad habit of ignoring his own notes once the testimony was rolling.
The lawyer said, "What happened next, Mr. Burnet?"
"I went in for tests. Dr. Gross repeated everything. He even did another liver biopsy."
"With what result?"
"He told me to come back in six months."
"Why?"
"He just said, 'Come back in six months.'"
"How did you feel at this time?"
"I felt healthy. But I figured I'd had a relapse."
"Dr. Gross told you that?"
"No. He never told me anything. Nobody at the hospital ever told me anything. They just said, 'Come back in six months.'"
Naturally enough,her father believed he was still sick. He met a woman he might have married, but didn't because he thought he did not have long to live. He sold his house and moved into a small apartment, so he wouldn't have a mortgage.
"It sounds like you were waiting to die," the attorney said.
"Objection!"
"I'll withdraw the question. But let's move on. Mr. Burnet, how long did you continue going to UCLA for testing?"
"Four years."
"Four years. And when did you first suspect you were not being told the truth about your condition?"
"Well, four years later, I still felt healthy. Nothing had happened. Every day, I was waiting for lightning to strike, but it never did. But Dr. Gross kept saying I had to come back for more tests, more tests. By then I had moved to San Diego, and I wanted to have my tests done there, and sent up to him. But he said no, I had to do the tests at UCLA."
"Why?"
"He said he preferred his own lab. But it didn't make sense. And he was giving me more and more forms to sign."
"What forms?"
"At first, they were just consent forms to acknowledge that I was undertaking a procedure with risk. Those first forms were one or two pages long. Pretty soon there were other forms that said I agreed to be involved in a research project. Each time I went back, there were still more forms. Eventually the forms were ten pages long, a whole document in dense legal language."
"And did you sign them?"
"Toward the end, no."
"Why not?"
"Because some of the forms were releases to permit the commercial use of my tissues."
"That bothered you?"
"Sure. Because I didn't think he was telling me the truth about what he was doing. The reason for all the tests. On one visit, I asked Dr. Gross straight out if he was using my tissues for commercial purposes. He said absolutely not, his interests were purely research. So I said okay, and I signed everything except the forms allowing my tissues to be used for commercial purposes."
"And what happened?"
"He got very angry. He said he would not be able to treat me further unless I signed all the forms, and I was risking my health and my future. He said I was making a big mistake."
"Objection! Hearsay."
"All right. Mr. Burnet, when you refused to sign the consent forms, did Dr. Gross stop treating you?"
"Yes."
"And did you then consult a lawyer?"
"Yes."
"And what did you subsequently discover?"
"That Dr. Gross had sold my cells - the cells he took from my body during all these tests - to a drug company called BioGen."
"And how did you feel when you heard that?"
"I was shocked," her father said. "I had gone to Dr. Gross when I was sick, and scared, and vulnerable. I had trusted my doctor. I had put my life in his hands. Itrusted him. And then it turned out that he had been lying to me, and scaring me needlesslyfor years , just so he could steal parts of my own body from me and sell them to make a profit. For himself. He never cared about me at all. He just wanted to take my cells."