Saturday, June 30, 2012

What Happened after My Court Hearing for Temporary Relief

     The microphone was turned off.  The court stenographer had closed her typing apparatus.  The judge had indicated with a hand motion that we could go home.
     It was five o'clock on September 14, 2011, the date of an Emergency Hearing which I had requested via a Pro Se Motion to the Court.  I wanted the judge to concur with my position that the FBI needed to return all my clinic's medical records and at least some of the money it had confiscated in the last hundred days, so that I could keep the clinic open for patient care.
     Although there was minimal argument from the federal prosecutors, everything seemed to go their way.  The judge declined my requests and didn't give a reason.  I understand now that he had been the one to sign the Search and Seizure Warrants allowing the FBI to stampede my clinic on June 6, 2011, taking medical charts and supplies, and to forfeit all my bank accounts, leaving me without a way to pay my staff or bills.  Maybe the judge couldn't rule in my favor because he had been the one to allow them to take everything. 
     Everything, that is, except my brain.
     I was disappointed, but I had my pride.  
     I walked over to the prosecutors who were chatting with their cohorts, the FBI agents.  During the Hearing the two prosecutors had been positioned up front, near the microphone.  They were the ones who responded to questions posed by my lawyer and by the judge.  They were highly skilled at using language that carried virtually no message. Their goal was, of course, not to permit me a clue as to why they had raided my office and hobbled my ability to practice medicine.  The FBI agents, lined up against the wall, formed a buttress behind the prosecutors.  Together they seemed an impenetrable barrier to the truth.
     But now, the Hearing over, I thought they were conversing about important matters.  I got this impression from their faces, which were now and had been for the entire day a study in expressionlessness.  When I came near, however, I could overhear their powwow, and in fact they were talking about sports, a subject that  has no interest for me.  It seemed acceptable therefore to interrupt them on my way out, and it would have been rude to pass right by without saying a word after we had spent all day together.
     "Hello, everyone," I said, reaching out to shake their hands.  
     One FBI agent shook my hand, but I believe it was a blunder.  He quickly pulled it back.  The others kept their hands at their sides.  In my memory they all seemed to be wearing the same dark uniform, but of course this couldn't have been the case.
     It was impossible to make eye contact.  I wondered how this was taught in their training.  It seemed a very difficult faculty to master.  Since I have a son with autism I know that people with autism have great difficulty making and holding eye contact.  But the federal agents couldn't all have autism--no, that would be highly unlikely.
     "Congratulations on your success today," I said, smiling.  "You won in all four areas.  I'm impressed.  I don't know how you did it."
     Some of the agents seemed to be nodding their heads and smiling back, but it must have been a reflex that came from good breeding.   It's possible I  imagined it.
     "I want to thank you for helping me to get out of medicine," I went on.  "Most doctors would rather not practice any more, but we don't know how to stop.  The world of medicine has gotten so difficult and, frankly, it's dangerous.  But you have made it easy for me.  Without money, medical charts, and supplies I can simply shut the doors and hang up a 'Closed' sign."
     The prosecutors and FBI agents maintained their frozen expressions and stared at me.
     "Now I can go fishing," I said.  "My doctor friends will be envious."
     My lawyers had caught up to me, so I turned to go.  "Thanks again!" I said over my shoulder as I left the courtroom.

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