"Well, I'm your child."
"But you have parents..."
"I'm your child, Dr. Bennett. And I can prove it in court."
There was a silence. They stared at each other. The baby drooled and squirmed. Finally, he said, "Why did you come here?"
"I wanted to meet my biological father..."
"Well, you've met him."
"And I wanted him to fulfill his duties and obligations. Because of what he did to me."
So there it was. Finally out on the table.
"Miss Murphy," he said slowly, "you'll get nothing from me."
He stood. She stood, too.
"The reason I'm an addict," she said, "is because of your genes."
"Don't be absurd."
"Your father was an alcoholic and you had drug troubles of your own. You carry the genes for addiction."
"What genes?"
"AGS3. Heroin dependence.DAT 1. Cocaine addiction. You have those genes, and so do I. You gave me those genes. You never should have donated defective sperm in the first place."
"What are you talking about?" he said, suddenly agitated. This woman was clearly following a memorized script. He felt danger. "I donated sperm thirty years ago. There were no tests back then...and there is no responsibility now..."
"You knew," she snapped. "You knew you had a problem with cocaine. You knew it ran in your family. But you sold your sperm anyway. You put your damaged, dangerous sperm on the market. Not caring who you infected."
"Infected?"
"You had no business doing what you did. You're a disgrace to the medical profession. Burdening other people with your genetic diseases. And not giving a damn."
Through his agitation, he somehow found self-control. He reached for the door. "Miss Murphy," he said, "I have nothing more to say to you."
"You're throwing me out? You'll regret this," she said. "You'll regret this very, very much."
And she stormed out of the office.
Feeling suddenly drained,Bennett collapsed into the chair behind his desk. He was in a state of shock. He stared at his desk, at the files for his waiting patients. None of it seemed to matter, now. He dialed his attorney, and explained the situation quickly.
"Does she want money?" the attorney said.
"I assume so."
"Did she tell you how much?"
"Jeff," Bennett said, "you're not taking this seriously?"
"Unfortunately, we have to," the attorney said. "This happened in Missouri, and Missouri had no clear laws regarding paternity from artificial insemination back then. Cases like yours were never a problem until quite recently. But as a rule in paternity disputes, the court orders child support."
"She's twenty-eight."
"Yes, and she has parents. Still, she can make an argument in court. Based on this gene thing, she can claim reckless endangerment, she can claim child abuse, and whatever else she can pull out of a hat. Maybe she'll get something from a judge, maybe she won't. Remember, paternity rulings are stacked against males. Say you get a woman pregnant and she decides to have an abortion. She can do that without consulting you. But if she decides to give birth, you'll pay support, even though you never agreed to have a child with her. The court will say it's your responsibility not to have gotten her pregnant in the first place. Or suppose you do genetic testing on your kids, and discover they're not yours - your wife cheated on you. The court will still require you to pay support for kids that aren't yours."
"But she's twenty-eight years old. She's not a child - "
"The question is, does a prominent physician want to go to court on a case that involves not supporting his own daughter?"
"No," Bennett said.
"That's right, you don't. She knows that. And I assume she knows Missouri law, too. So wait until she calls back, arrange a meeting, and call me. If she has an attorney, all the better. Make sure he comes. Meanwhile, fax me that genetic report she gave you."
"I'm going to have to pay her off?"
"Count on it," the attorney said, and hung up.
CHapter 062
The deskofficer at the Rockville Police Station was an attractive, smooth-skinned black woman of twenty-five. The desk plate readOFFICER J. LOWRY . Her uniform was crisp.
Georgia Bellarmino pushed her daughter close to the other side of the desk. She set the paper bag of syringes in front of the policewoman and said, "Officer Lowry, I want to know why my daughter has these things, but she refuses to tell me."
Her daughter glared at her. "I hate you, Mom."
Officer Lowry showed no surprise. She glanced at the syringes. She turned to Georgia's daughter. "Were these prescribed to you by a physician?"
"Yes."
"Do they involve matters of reproduction?"
"Yes."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Can I see some ID?"
"She's sixteen, all right," Georgia Bellarmino said, leaning forward. "And I want to know - "
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the policewoman said. "If she is sixteen, and these drugs involve reproductive issues, you have no right to be informed."
"What do you mean I have no right to be informed? She's mydaughter. She'ssixteen. "
"That's the law, ma'am."
"But that law is for abortions. She isn't having an abortion. I don't know what the hell she is doing. These are fertility drugs. She'sshooting up fertility drugs. "
"I'm sorry, I can't help you on this."
"You mean my daughter is allowed to inject drugs into her body, and I am not allowed to know what is going on?"