NARRATOR: In the criminal justice system
the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups,
the police who investigate crime
and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders.
These are their stories.
That's too easy. That was Henri Richard, The Pocket Rocket.
Come on, you can do better than that.
Okay. First game, first goal, Bobby Orr.
Who'd he get by?
Uh... Gump Worsley. Again. But harder. Ask me anything.
Okay. First Russia NHL series. Who was the one...
Mr. Moore! Syd, get a cab.
What happened?
Just get a damn cab!
Yes, sir.
He told the doctors he found her unconscious on the floor.
He told me he found her on the bed.
He brought her here in a cab?
Said he didn't want to wait for the paramedics.
Anybody else in the apartment?
No. Just him and his wife. The help left at 7:00.
That's the doctor you want to talk to. Dr. Murphy.
BRISCOE: Thanks.
Dr. Murphy, we're here about Joan Moore.
She's still in a coma.
From what? We're still running tests.
But so far...
She arrived fully comatose. Pupils fixed, dilated.
ED: Physical trauma?
No signs of any.
We drew bloods, ran an IV of sugar, then switched to naltrexone
for possible opiate OD.
Normally, it's one or the other. They pop back.
But she didn't. She have any preexisting conditions?
Not according to the husband.
Said the last time she'd seen a doctor
was eight months ago for a routine physical.
BRISCOE: Well, what do you suspect?
She was poisoned. By her own hand or someone else's.
And you know this how?
A fresh needle mark in her left buttock.
No kidding. If you find anything dodgy
in her blood test, let us know.
If I find anything. Excuse me.
(EXHALES) A little jab will do ya.
I was downstairs in the gym until around 9:00.
When I came home, I found Joan lying on the bed.
Couldn't get her to wake up.
The doc said you told him she was on the floor.
Well, the bed. He's mistaken.
Why didn't you call 911?
What, and wait 45 minutes for them to get there?
I just picked Joan up and ran.
Thought she'd had a heart attack.
ED: Does she have heart problems?
No.
But you thought she had a heart attack?
What would you think? She was unconscious.
They found a fresh needle mark in her backside.
Any idea how it got there?
I don't know.
Was she injecting drugs?
You mean illegal drugs? It's not possible.
Mr. Moore, they're testing your wife's blood.
Whatever she might have taken, they'll find,
so there's no sense in protecting...
Joan is not a drug addict.
These questions are ridiculous.
She's simply very sick. Now, if you will excuse me,
I have to call my stepdaughter.
Last time I saw Mr. Moore down in the gym was about 9:00.
Must've been 9:45, he runs out the elevator
with his wife half-dead. She gonna be okay?
We don't know. Uh, these two, they get along all right?
Yeah, sure. Better than the first husband.
Mr. Mason? What a pain that guy was.
Yeah, what happened to him?
She kicked him out about 10 years ago.
BRISCOE: But she kept the co-op?
Why not? She paid for it Whole floor, park and river view.
Family money, you know.
What does Mr. Moore bring to the table?
SYD: Lot of good manners.
He sits on the board of this, the board of that. Banking, that sort of thing.
ED: They have any visitors that evening?
No. Night before, though, they had
a small dinner party. Their regular crowd.
Mrs. Moore, she have any bad habits? Drugs, things like that?
Mrs. Moore? She probably starches her undies, you know?
What he means is, she's a decent lady. Very quiet.
BRISCOE: All right. Thanks for your time.
Well, I don't see much here. Guy finds his wife in a coma,
he gets the details confused.
(CELL PHONE RINGING)
Green. Yeah.
We'll be right over.
It's the doctor from the E.R.
What we have is severe hypoglycemic shock.
Low blood sugar?
Her blood came back positive for massive amounts of insulin.
That's what lowered her glucose and put her into shock.
Insulin. So that explains the needle mark.
Yeah, we had the insulin tested. It's synthetic insulin.
Used to treat diabetes.
Okay, so she's diabetic, she makes a mistake...
No, I don't think she's diabetic.
There's no evidence of daily injections,
no telltale finger pricks, no MedicAlert bracelet.
You ask Mr. Moore? Yes.
He said she isn't diabetic.
Thanks, Doc. So we're back to the needle mark.
And enough insulin to kill her.
What say we ask Carmichael for a search warrant?
A syringe? My God, no.
Who emptied the trash? I did.
You find any medicine bottles, insulin, anything like that?
No.
How long you work for the Moores?
Since before there was Mr. Moore.
I've been with Miss Joan since before her first husband.
Yeah, my first wife's got a poodle like that.
(LAUGHS HUMORLESSLY)
Uh, these Miss Joan's?
She wanted to make her life better.
What was wrong with it?
Nothing was wrong with it. She might have been a little tired, that's all.
ED: Depressed?
No, no. She just lied in bed, looking at the ceiling,
like she was stuck.
I think she was wondering about things.
Wondering about her husband?
Higher things than that. Maybe you wouldn't understand.
Yeah, we probably wouldn't. So, uh, how was her life with Mr. Moore?
Normal, like a husband and wife.
Yeah, now, we heard that Mrs. Moore had a lot of family money.
How was Mr. Moore fixed before he met her?
He had to work for a living.
Not so much now. Miss Joan takes care of everything.
No wonder she was tired.
It's not a time for joking. Now, may I go?
Who is Mrs. Moore's doctor?
It used to be Dr. Hobart for 25 years.
But Mr. Moore didn't want her seeing him anymore.
Why not?
I don't know such things. Maybe Miss Joan's daughter knows.
The way Mom explained it,
David thought that Dr. Hobart was completely out of touch.
So she just chucked him after 25 years
on your stepfather's say-so?
David's very controlling.
But my mom will come out of this.
Jerry, could you take these photos to the printer?
Sure.
I'm sorry. I'm trying to get out of here
so I can get back to the hospital.
Which doctor did she switch to?
Well, I don't think she'd gone to anybody.
There was nothing wrong with her.
I don't understand why the police are involved.
Well, it was an insulin overdose,
and nobody can explain why she had the insulin in her system.
I'm sure the hospital made a mistake.
BRISCOE: There's no mistaking the insulin was injected.
That's crazy. My mother would never take something
she wasn't supposed to.
Yeah, well, that brings us to the other possibility.
Your stepfather was the only one alone with your mother.
My mother and David have a great relationship.
They seemed happy.
ED: She was reading self-help books, inspirational books.
What does that mean?
David would never hurt my mother.
He'd do anything for her, and she'd do anything to make him happy.
What you're suggesting is cruel.
Now, if you don't mind, I have to go.
That's us, a couple of meanies.
The insulin didn't fall out of the sky.
Moore had to get it from somewhere.
You check with his doctor?
It took a little arm-twisting, but he violated his privilege enough
to tell us he never prescribed it.
You look like you're having fun.
Oh, by the pound.
I got the Moore's credit card bills, check stubs,
medical insurance forms.
You should see the plan these people have.
Prescription drugs, 8 bucks a pop.
I gotta talk to the union about this.
In the meantime...
Oh, in the meantime, he's getting his Lipitor once a month.
She's taking birth control pills...
Good for her.
At her age, it's probably for the estrogen boost.
What's this one here?
A credit card charge for $112
at Jaros Drugs six weeks ago.
That charge wasn't sent to the medical insurance.
Probably 'cause it wasn't for drugs. Maybe toiletries.
They live on the East Side, right?
This pharmacy is all the way over in the West 90s.
That's a long haul for 100 bucks worth of toothpaste.
Moore? Was that a refill?
You tell us.
I don't see anything for a David Moore.
Can I see that charge again?
$112, no co-pay.
Here we go. $112 for Joan Moore.
First time prescription for selegiline.
What's that for?
Depression, among other things.
You'd have to ask her doctor, Dr. Richard Shipman.
Right around the corner on 93rd.
You can't tell us why you might have prescribed selegiline for her?
I'm not even going to confirm whether or not she's a patient.
I wish I could. I'm sorry, doctor-patient privilege.
Well, her privileges have been suspended, Doc.
She's lying in a coma at Stein Memorial.
What? How did that happen?
Oh, so she is a patient?
She got an insulin overdose from an injection.
(SOFTLY) Oh, my God.
ED: This drug you were giving her, was it for depression?
That's it, we're done. I have patients who need me.
Don't forget about the one in a coma.
This is going very well.
If there was nothing physically wrong with her,
the selegiline had to be for depression.
Shipman's a neurologist. You go to a neurologist for depression?
All right, take me through this again.
The husband say anything about her condition prior to the coma?
No, he hardly had time to say boo to us.
Their help said that she seemed worn out lately.
She'd just lie in bed, like she was stuck there, staring at the ceiling.
Sounds like akinesia. Difficulty initiating movement.
That explains the neurologist.
That explains a lot.
The selegiline was for Parkinson's.
If she was already getting akinesia
within six weeks, it's progressing fast.
What would her prospects be like?
Well, there's no cure.
You treat the symptoms, but the brain cells keep degenerating.
At the rate she seemed to be going,
it would have become devastating in short order.
Hard thing for a husband to watch.
There's nothing he could do.
Except maybe help her die.
I had nothing to do with it.
I told you, I found her unconscious.
ED: Mr. Moore, we know she had Parkinson's.
Well, that's not true. Who told you that?
She was seeing a neurologist.
She was taking medication for Parkinson's.
I didn't know anything about it. She never told me.
Come on, Mr. Moore.
Even your houseboy noticed she was having problems.
We can imagine how hard it must have been
for you to see her like that.
You were just trying to do the humane thing.
No, you're wrong.
She ask you to do it? Is that what happened?
She just couldn't face it, the pain, the debilitation.
It was an act of kindness on your part.
My client denies any involvement.
He can deny all he wants. We're trying to give him a break.
He can either cop to a suicide assist,
or he's tangling with attempted murder.
His choice. But I...
David. A minute.
(WHISPERING)
In return for probation, Mr. Moore'd consider pleading
to promoting a suicide attempt.
Does he wanna tell us how it went down?
Once the deal's in place,
he'll give you all the details.
Do we just take his word the suicide was his wife's idea?
Did she leave a note? A videotape?
I guess they didn't read Euthanasia for Dummies.
Have you even confirmed she has Parkinson's?
M.E. says there's no way to do it while she's in a coma.
You can't test for it unless the person's conscious.
Or dead, so they can slice her open.
We're being asked to take a lot on faith.
I'll get you a court order so you can talk to the neurologist.
When she came in four months ago, the tremors were pronounced.
You were sure it was Parkinson's?
There wasn't any doubt.
When's the last time you saw her?
Couple of weeks ago. The disease was progressing quickly.
Did she ever talk about suicide?
No.
I won't say she was particularly courageous.
I think suicide went against her beliefs.
Was she depressed?
Well, she had mood swings. Good days and bad days.
Mostly she was concerned with preserving her dignity.
She didn't want anybody to know she had Parkinson's.
She kept asking for more powerful drugs to hide the symptoms.
Hide from who?
Her family. Her friends.
I told her there'd come a point where no amount of drugs
would be able to keep the symptoms under control.
Maybe it was that knowledge that tipped it.
I'll agree to promoting a suicide, but he has to do six months.
I know what you're going to say, but we don't hand out
brownie points for helping people kill themselves.
Even if he acted out of love and concern?
Spare me the violins.
I can just as easily believe he couldn't bear the burden
of caring for his sick wife.
Please. This was not a selfish act.
Let's hear your story first. Then we'll talk about sentencing you.
I only became aware of Joan's condition about a month ago.
Of course I'd noticed before that, but she'd make excuses.
Then one night, she fell in the den. She couldn't get up.
She must have laid there an hour till I got back from my walk.
She was terrified. She knew it would only get worse.
She asked me to help her end it.
What did you say?
I refused. I said we'd find other doctors,
but she wouldn't even consider it.
And so finally, last week,
I injected her with insulin.
She became unconscious. I panicked.
I realized what I was doing That's when I brought her to the hospital.
Did she leave a note or any kind of document stating her intentions?
Uh, no, not that I know of.
Where'd you get the insulin?
A friend who's diabetic.
ED: We'll need his name.
What does the name matter?
You have everything you need.
So do we have a deal?
We'll have to let you know.
You better not be playing us, Miss Carmichael.
(DOOR OPENS)
(DOOR CLOSES)
Find this diabetic friend.
I know their close friends,
but I haven't heard if any of them are diabetic.
Well, if you can give us their names, we can ask them.
Mom turned 50 last January, and I organized the party at Le Cirque for her.
I might still have the guest list.
I'm having a really hard time with this.
I... I never knew anything was wrong with my mom.
(STAMMERING) I can't believe she didn't tell me.
Can you believe she'd want to kill herself?
No, no. She'd been investing in my book business.
She'd been looking forward to my success.
I... I don't understand David doing what he did.
None of this makes any sense to me.
Here. Their closest friends. Maybe they know.
We cross-referenced the names with the Diabetes Association
and the National Institute of Diabetes.
None of these people are listed as diabetics.
I guess the next step is we start calling them up.
Not these people. Look at these names.
It's the Concorde Frequent Flyer Club.
So what do we do, slip a Twinkie in their salad
and see if they go into sugar shock?
Start calling the pharmacies in their neighborhood.
Hey, there were three doctors on the list. I ran them by the licensing board.
Two of them are chairmen of biotech firms.
Haven't practiced in 10 years, haven't written any scrips.
The third one's a shrink, Dr. Bertram Stokes. Look at this.
He got stopped at customs last winter,
coming back from Spain with 20 vials of insulin.
No prescription.
And he's not diabetic.
I paid a fine. That's all there was to it.
What were you going to do with all that insulin?
Maybe I should call my attorney.
Hey, you can call the sugar plum fairy for all we care.
She can meet you down at our house.
One of your friends is in a coma from an overdose of insulin,
and we like you as the guy who supplied the insulin to her husband.
Are you crazy?
You're the shrink. You tell me.
I did not give David Moore any insulin.
ED: Back to my question.
Now I am calling my attorney.
What did you think he was going to do with the insulin,
put it on his cereal?
I don't know, but somebody might. The guy had on a wedding ring.
Excuse me.
We're looking for Dr. Stokes' wife.
Uh, you know when she'll be back?
Good question. She hasn't been here since last week.
Any idea where we can find her?
Don't be cute. It's a murder investigation.
(SIGHS) She's at The Christophe.
Since last week? What happened?
I don't know. She just left here on Tuesday.
BRISCOE: Thanks.
The day after Joan Moore landed in the hospital.
I'm just needing some time away from Bert.
Nothing to do with Joan.
Just a coincidence, huh?
Yes. Of course, it's awful what's happened to Joan.
Well, what do you think did happen?
She had a stroke. Isn't that it?
A stroke of insulin, administered by her husband.
What he calls a suicide attempt on account of her Parkinson's.
Except from what we hear, Mrs. Moore wasn't suicidal,
so we may be looking at attempted murder.
Murder? I can't imagine it.
Why are you talking to Bert and me?
Your husband smuggles insulin from overseas.
He's been caught once, but he's taken the trip seven times since then.
If he supplied any of it to Mr. Moore,
that makes him an accessory to murder.
(SIGHS)
No. It isn't murder.
Then what is it?
It's a game. A control game.
You're gonna have to explain that.
Our husbands...
Joan would do anything for David.
Anything not to be left alone.
What's the game?
I feel stupid trying to explain how I let Bert do this to me.
How Joan let David...
Try us. We've been around the block a few hundred times.
I doubt that you've been in this neighborhood.
This was taped a month ago.
CARMICHAEL: What's he doing?
Hang on to your popcorn.
Oh, gross.
JACK: Now I've seen everything.
When he's done, he brings her out of the insulin shock
with a shot of sucrose.
What was Jeannie Stokes doing with this tape?
They were all into it. Five couples. Bert Stokes got them started.
They swapped wives, swapped tapes.
What do you call this?
Besides a bunch of crazy rich white people
with too much time on their hands?
The best Skoda could come up with was necrophilia without tears.
Some kind of domination fetish.
You put your wife into an insulin shock,
and then you have your way with her every which way you can.
Until you make a mistake and she ends up in a coma.
How long had they been doing this?
At least 10 months, every couple of weeks.
So he knew exactly how much insulin to give,
how long to let her remain unconscious.
To the second, according to Jeannie Stokes.
Arrest David Moore for attempted murder.
You have to deal with the nurses
and none of them are trained... Mr. Moore.
Would you get up?
What?
You're under arrest for the attempted murder of your wife.
From now on, it's baloney sandwiches for you.
You have the right to remain silent...
Down. We might just be back.
$2 million bail, you yank his passport,
all because he likes to play naughty games with his wife.
All of that and lying to us. Oh, and did I mention trying to murder her?
There was no such attempt. No such intent.
It was just a horrible accident.
The only accident here is that he failed to kill her.
His wife was damaged goods.
That's just insane.
I swear to you, I had no idea that Joan had Parkinson's.
You know, Mr. Moore, I liked you better
when you were helping your wife commit suicide.
He admits it, that was a lie.
I wanted to spare Joan and myself the embarrassment
of exposing our intimate life to public ridicule.
Oh, come on. She's in a coma.
And when she comes out of it, I do not want her humiliated
for something that she did strictly to humor me.
BERNER: David, you don't have to tell...
No, I want them to understand.
It is my idiocy that did this to her.
Along with your greed. Maybe you couldn't wait to inherit her fortune.
Upon her death, her money goes into a trust for her daughter.
Mr. Moore signed a pre-nup.
At most, he'd get $1 million.
Hardly a financial motive in this day and age.
You barely have a case here for criminal negligence let alone murder.
The tape proves Mrs. Moore was a willing participant.
Any overdose could only have been willfully administered.
He pleads to attempt murder two,
I'll consider a reduced sentence.
Criminal negligence, probation.
You push it, Mr. McCoy, we're ready for you.
Mr. Holden has already documented
a number of drug-related issues in the case.
Mr. Friedburgh has worked up the psychological dimensions.
You'll have briefs coming out of your ass.
(DOOR CLOSES)
It's a suicide. It's an accident.
It's a breath mint. This guy gives me a headache.
Idle rich and their idle hands.
Well, he wasn't lying about the trust.
The daughter gets all the money minus some pocket change.
ADAM: So what's his motive again?
Right motive, maybe wrong crime.
According to these papers, if she's incapacitated for any reason,
he gets power of attorney.
Which means as long as she's alive, he has access to her money.
Gave her just enough insulin to put her in a coma.
Talk about threading a needle.
JACK: He had 10 months to practice.
Gonna be tough to prove.
CARMICHAEL: And expensive.
He can spend every last one of her dimes on his defense.
There's nothing we can do about it.
Maybe we can't.
We're asking the court to rescind Mr. Moore's power of attorney
and appoint Miss Mason guardian of her mother under Article 81.
This is against Mrs. Moore's own wishes.
According to documents signed at the time of their wedding and renewed every year since,
she gave Mr. Moore durable power of attorney
in the event of any incapacitation.
She couldn't possibly have contemplated
being incapacitated by her husband's own criminal act.
BERNER: What criminal act?
WALSH: The District Attorney's Office has informed us...
BERNER: There you have it, Your Honor.
Mr. McCoy put Miss Mason up to this.
It's a ploy to strip my client
of the means to defend himself against baseless charges.
What about that, Mr. McCoy?
It's our position Mr. Moore put his wife in a coma
for the express purpose of gaining free access to her accounts.
You have proof?
Mr. Moore admitted injecting his wife with insulin.
We have videotape of him doing so.
The tape shows Mrs. Moore was a willing participant in a sexual game.
A sex game?
Mrs. Moore allowed herself to be put into insulin shock
for their mutual sexual gratification.
It's complicated.
I'll say.
BERNER: The coma is an unfortunate accident.
Your Honor, may I speak?
Yes.
Mr. McCoy showed me the videotape.
I... I don't pretend to understand what I saw. It was
very disturbing to me.
At the very least, my stepfather has a lot to explain.
I have been with my mother in the hospital every day,
and it doesn't seem fair that he can continue to live in her house
and spend her money while she
lies there in that bed.
I can't believe that's what she would want.
JUDGE: Thank you, Miss Mason.
May we rebut, Your Honor?
You may not.
I'm appointing Miss Mason guardian of her mother's estate.
The $2 million bail is recouped to Mrs. Moore's estate,
along with the $250,000 retainer paid to Mr. Moore's lawyers.
(GAVEL BANGS)
He's on his way back to Rikers till he can raise more bail,
and his dream team's down to one lawyer.
Lucky that judge had a heart of marshmallow.
I'll take them any way I can.
You might want to give this one back.
In turning over guardianship, Mrs. Moore's estate
included a profit and loss statement for the last year.
The money Debbie told the cops her mother
had been investing in her business?
Mom turned off the tap nine months ago.
Well, it's back on, thanks to us.
We were supposed to publish limited edition coffee table books.
One a month. That was the business plan.
That turned into one a year.
Debbie just didn't have the contacts.
What did Debbie say she was going to do about the money problem?
She said her mother had these mood swings and she was hard to talk to.
But I knew Debbie was jerking me around.
She was desperate to make this thing work.
And desperate people...
Do desperate things.
She put all her eggs in this.
Her father's remarried, has a new family, lives in Europe.
All she has is her mother and her business.
Both in need of life support.
She tried to raise money at a venture capital conference.
The Draven-Kessler Group. No go.
After she cut off the funds, how did Debbie pay the phone bill?
Her step-dad. She said he felt sorry for her.
He chipped in some bucks. Not nearly enough.
I thought I was going to have to get a real job.
But as of yesterday, we're back in the black.
She denied knowing her mom had Parkinson's. She lied about the money.
She's 0-for-2 and counting.
Getting her paws on that money is a pretty good motive for a murder.
Except it's her step-dad who pulled the trigger.
Well, what a cozy little family this is turning out to be.
Once you're into necrophilia, incest doesn't seem so bad.
Moore must be feeling pretty stupid sitting in Rikers
while Debbie's out spending up a storm.
He might be in a mood to deal.
I'm not.
Get a search warrant for her office and home.
We find evidence they had an affair, they can both rot.
Please, if you'd just tell me what you're looking for.
I've got nothing to hide.
Maybe a mash note from your stepfather?
Don't be disgusting.
CARMICHAEL: Oh, we've already been down that road.
You people have fantastic imaginations. I've done nothing wrong.
Lennie.
What's this?
BRISCOE: I'm betting it ain't Sweet'N Low.
Well? You gonna tell us?
I don't know what it is. It's nothing.
Really? Have some.
Figures. Bag it.
It's methyl-phenyl-tetrahydro-pyridine. MPTP for short.
It's a compound once used in herbicides.
About 10 years ago, it was found in a batch of designer heroin.
A number of addicts had severe reactions.
What kind of reactions?
Loss of motor control, rigidity in the limbs, tremors...
Same kind of symptoms as in Parkinson's?
Some of the addicts ended up in a coma-like state.
The M.E. ran a mass spectrometry on a blood sample from Joan Moore.
She found the same chemical compound in her blood.
So that's what put her in a coma, not the insulin.
Apparently, a single large dose
can cause severe, irreversible Parkinson's.
Didn't Joan Moore start having symptoms months ago?
At lower dosage, MPTP can induce less severe symptoms.
This girl poisoned her mother how?
My best guess, she knew about her parents little hobby
and contaminated their stash of insulin.
It built up in her mother's system until the last dose
of poisoned insulin pushed her over the edge.
So that makes David Moore just an innocent player.
Innocent, yeah.
You arrested his girl?
Not yet.
You waiting for an invitation?
(DOOR OPENS)
DEBBIE: What are you doing here?
Debbie Mason, you're under arrest
for the attempted murder of your mother.
No, this is a mistake. Don't fight me.
No, you can't do this. You have the right to remain silent.
No. No, please... Anything you do say
can and will be used against you in a court of law.
You have the right to an attorney.
If you cannot afford one, one will be...
The charges against David Moore have been set aside.
We might have to do the same thing with Debbie Mason
unless we can prove the MPTP is hers.
I don't see any record of purchases from pharmaceutical companies.
No gardening supplies, no doctors visits.
You check for wire transfers overseas? This stuff's easier to get there.
I've checked. No transfers.
Did you ask David Moore if his stepdaughter was aware of their insulin kick?
Yeah. As far as he knew, she wasn't.
This job gets easier every minute. What are you doing?
I'm going to where anyone who wants to
poison their neighbor goes to first these days.
The Internet.
MPTP, Parkinson's...
If there are any relevant articles, maybe we can find out
if Debbie Mason downloaded them.
How To Poison Dear Old Mom dot com.
Yeah, most of these are at least five years old.
Joan Moore's neurologist. Can you check his name?
Dr. Shipman?
Dr. Richard Shipman.
There's an article here by a J.R. Shipman and a K.M. Molo.
"MPTP-Induced Dopamine Reductions in the Striatum."
1997, Hamilton James College.
There wasn't anybody working on Parkinson's
who didn't leap on MPTP when the news came out.
I mean, freak accident. Somebody mixes a bad batch of designer drugs,
comes up with something that produces
the same effects as Parkinson's.
And Dr. Shipman leapt along with everybody else?
Richard hasn't done anything wrong, has he?
Well, not as far as we know.
But a friend of his might have poisoned someone.
Oh, gosh.
A female friend?
Yes. Why?
He had a bit of a reputation around here with the young research assistants.
What about Richard and MPTP? Had that love affair ended?
We spent eight years examining every atom of MPTP
to find out how it acted on the nervous system.
It proved to be a dead end. Richard left research. He had to make a living.
Did he ever mention knowing a Debbie Mason?
No. Uh, everyone Richard knows is in research. Well, was.
Most of them are in biotech start-ups, making millions.
Except Richard.
I think Richard feels he missed the train. He called me last winter.
He said he had an idea for a genome start-up.
He said he was going to the Left Coast to a venture capital conference
and was I interested.
Do you remember the name of the group holding the conference?
Uh, Davon... Draven.
Draven-Kessler?
Yes.
CARMICHAEL: You and Dr. Shipman were at the conference together.
You stayed in the same hotel.
You were seen together.
A call was made to your office from his hotel room.
The implication's obvious.
You both coveted your mother's money.
You concocted a scheme to kill her.
No, no. That's not true.
I'm going to say this once, Miss Mason.
We've got you dead to rights now.
You can cooperate or you can stand trial. Your choice.
If you say no, I'll make the same offer to Dr. Shipman.
(WHISPERING)
(SIGHS)
Assault one, six years.
Ten years.
And we won't refile for murder if Mrs. Moore dies.
I didn't want my mother to die.
I didn't want her in a coma.
You spiked your mother's insulin by accident?
No.
I was furious when she took away the funding,
but it was Richard's idea.
You met a man at a conference, and before you can say boo,
he's talked you into killing your mother?
Oh, God, I'm sorry.
You wanted her money. You both wanted her money?
Yes. But then I... I saw what the drug was doing to her,
how much she was suffering, and I...
I couldn't go through with it. I wanted it to stop.
Even after she went into a coma,
you wanted control of her money.
No... No, that... That was your idea.
To get it away from my stepfather.
She looked so frail and defenseless.
I got rid of the contaminated insulin,
and then I told Richard he had to give her something that would
make it stop, and he said he would.
He did? When?
The day she went into the coma.
He had my mother come to his office in the early evening.
He said he was going to give her Sinemet.
That was supposed to stop the effects of the MPTP.
Instead, two hours later, she was in a coma.
He must have given her something that made it worse.
Do we have a deal?
Give me a couple of days.
I did not conspire with Miss Mason. I did not give her any MPTP.
I did not help make her mother sick.
But you know Debbie. You admit that much, right, Doc?
I mean, we have the hotel bills, the phone calls,
all that good stuff.
Yes, I know her. We met in San Francisco, yes.
We've seen each other on and off.
So what?
You keep any MPTP in the office or around the house?
I kept some around the office for research purposes.
Debbie ever ask you about it?
No.
I don't know. I mean, she knew about my research.
How did her mother become your patient?
Debbie called me, told me her mother was having tremors,
difficulty getting out of bed, would I see her. That's it.
Why didn't you tell us all this way back when?
It was privileged and we didn't think it was relevant.
Look, Debbie was at my office a few times late at night.
She'd come visit when I had reports to do.
For what? A midnight snack?
Something like that.
She may have taken the MPTP then without my knowledge.
All I'm saying is it's possible that's what she did.
Or she got it from another source. I don't know.
All I know is, I am innocent.
The last time you saw Mrs. Moore?
I told the police. Two weeks before she went into a coma.
You're sure about that?
Yes. Yes.
I didn't do anything wrong All I did was treat the poor woman.
We haven't found any place Debbie Mason
could have gotten this drug except from Shipman's office.
That's not the same as proving she got it from him.
Well, that's the good news.
No one saw Mrs. Moore in Shipman's office the day she went into a coma.
If she was there, it was after hours,
and the receptionist and nurses had gone home.
David Moore didn't notice his wife was out?
He didn't get home until 8:00,
and the doormen don't remember seeing Mrs. Moore.
So who do we believe, Shipman or Debbie Mason?
I've never liked doctors.
I don't like people who pick on their mothers.
I don't like people we can't make a case against.
(PHONE RINGING)
Yes?
Thank you.
It's the M.E. Something that can't wait.
I've been consulting with Johns Hopkins and UCLA about MPTP-induced comas.
What they told me makes my hair stand on end.
First of all, Joan Moore may not be in a coma, after all.
At least not what we normally understand to be a coma.
The term the UCLA people used is frozen.
Frozen how?
The heroin addicts who took MPTP by mistake 10 years ago?
Several of them ended up completely conscious,
but trapped inside a rigid body over which they had no control.
They could hear, see and feel everything around them,
but they couldn't move or communicate in any way whatsoever.
So Joan Moore's just lying there like a zombie,
aware of everything that's going on?
If, in fact, we're looking at an overdose of MPTP.
Could she be brought out of it?
Well, they've had some success with L-dopa.
CARMICHAEL: What does that mean, some success?
There's a risk the L-dopa might make her psychotic.
There's a small risk of death.
Assume the best.
Would she be able to talk?
Yes.
The effect of the L-dopa is almost instantaneous.
She'd be able to move within minutes.
They do not know for a certainty
what put Mrs. Moore in her present condition.
If they're wrong, administering L-dopa could be fatal.
Her own doctors feel she has very little to lose.
They don't expect her to recover from her condition on her own.
Since the charges against him were dropped,
Mr. Moore has regained guardianship of Mrs. Moore.
It's up to him to decide what she has to lose.
Mrs. Moore could be an important witness, Your Honor.
She could implicate the person who put her in this state.
That's Mr. McCoy's interest, not Mrs. Moore's.
She's just a piece of evidence to him.
He has no regard for her welfare.
The only person who cares what happens to her here
is her husband, David Moore.
That's not true. Please get my mother out of this hell.
Come off it, Debbie You put her there.
You're the one who made her do all those perverse things.
You don't care about her.
JUDGE: Please, that's enough.
I look at all of you fighting over this woman like hyenas over a corpse.
Mr. McCoy, I don't care what the State's interest is here.
Nor do I see much merit in your position, Mr. Moore.
I can only be guided by Joan Moore's welfare here.
If her doctors think this procedure is appropriate,
then I have to go along with their assessment.
I'm dismissing your motion, Mr. Moore.
We heard about the judge's decision.
My sources at the hospital tell me
the procedure's scheduled for today.
That's right, as soon as we get to the hospital,
so let's make this quick.
My client wants to talk about a plea bargain.
JACK: Plea to what?
Assault two. A term of one-to-three years.
I'm not going to play this game with you, Mr. Streim.
I'll have all the evidence I need against your client within the hour.
All right, assault one, three-to-nine.
You're wasting our time.
SHIPMAN: You think L-dopa's some kind of magic bullet?
I've done the research, Mr. McCoy.
I know the odds on Joan Moore coming out of the deep freeze.
What about the odds of her dying, Doctor?
Maybe not today, maybe not this month,
but she will. And when she does,
I'll be coming back at you with a murder charge. No pleas, no deals.
And what if she ends up psychotic?
What kind of witness will she make?
Doctor...
You haven't seen the addicts who were treated with L-dopa. I have.
They don't show very well.
I've seen just about every shade of grotesque behavior
in this case, Dr. Shipman, but yours takes the cake.
Attempt murder two, eight-and-a-third-to-25 or we're out of here.
(WHISPERING)
STREIM: Wait.
We'll take it.
Done.
Now, Dr. Shipman,
did Joan Moore come to see you the night she went into a coma?
Mmm-hmm.Yes.
What did you do to her?
(SIGHS)
Debbie was backing down.
All of a sudden, she'd developed some
filial devotion to her mother.
But we had an agreement,
and I intended to make sure she lived up to it.
I told Debbie I was going to give her mother
a shot of Sinemet to stabilize her.
Instead, I gave her an oral dose of MPTP.
DR. MORSE: Mrs. Moore, I'm giving you a shot of L-dopa.
She's not responding.
It hasn't been long enough.
If there was going to be an effect, it would be immediate.
Maybe in combination with the insulin,
the MPTP had an effect we hadn't anticipated.
Please, try again.
I'm sorry, we can't risk another dose.
Mom, I'm so sorry.
I didn't mean...
She pled to assault one. She'll do at least three years.
Good for us. Not so good for Joan Moore.
Considering what her life was like with David Moore...
She slipped from one nightmare into another.
It's cases like this that make me take a long hard look at my pension plan.