She looks professional in her navy-blue-and-gold-checked dress. Her hair is pulled up into a smart bun, and she’s wearing eyeglasses that she didn’t have on yesterday at my house.

After she’s sworn in, I ask, “Would you please introduce yourself to the jury?”

I instructed her to always make eye contact with the jury, and she remembers well. Turning to them, she says, “My name is Rhonda Valasquez. I’m a registered nurse.”

“And were you present during the breast-reduction surgery Dr. Summerland performed on Jenna LaPietra?” I ask.

“I was,” she responds.

“As part of your duties, do you make entries into the medical records?”

“Yes. There are usually two surgical nurses. One of us usually provides immediate assistance to the surgeon, and the other may document things in the chart as they occur.”

I stand up from my chair. “May I approach, Your Honor?”

Judge Henry waves me forward and I walk up to Rhonda. “I’m handing you what’s been marked as Plaintiff’s exhibit number thirty-eight. Can you identify that for the jury?”

Rhonda takes the paper and looks at it briefly. “That’s a page from the nurses’ notes that were created during the surgery.”

“And is that your handwriting?”

“No. That’s the other nurse’s handwriting. I was doing the main assistance, and she was responsible for charting.”

Leaning over the edge of the witness box, I point to the middle of the note. “Right there it says, ‘12:18 p.m., Dr. S and R.V. step out.’ What does that mean?”

Rhonda looks over to the jury. “At 12:18 p.m., both Dr. Summerland and I stepped out of the operating room together.”

I can hear the jury muttering, completely taken with this information.

“And right below that?” I ask as I point back to the note.

“It says, ‘12:32 p.m., Dr. S back. Surg in progress,’” she supplies to the jury.

“So, the notes reflect that you and Dr. Summerland left the operating room together, is that correct?”

“That’s correct,” she says calmly.

“Isn’t that unusual?” I ask curiously.

“It is,” she says.

I glance quickly over at the jury. They’re all leaning forward, completely entranced with Rhonda’s testimony. I can practically see the thoughts racing through their gazes.

Where did they go?

What were they doing?

Was something illicit going on?

It’s time to let them in on the secret.

“Miss Valasquez, why did you two leave the operating room together?”

Rhonda takes a deep breath and turns to the jury. “I noticed Dr. Summerland’s hands were shaking quite badly as he started the procedure. I asked him once if he was okay, and he told me he was fine. It seemed to stop for a few moments, but then his hands started shaking again.”

“What did you do?” I prompt.

“I asked him again if he was okay, and this time he yelled at me to mind my own business.”

A ripple of awkward movement comes from the jury as they shift and adjust in their seats.

“Did he continue to operate?” I ask her.

“He did,” Rhonda says, “but I was extremely worried. His incision was irregular and I knew he wasn’t physically able to perform surgery. So I told him that exactly.”

“What was his reaction?” I ask softly.

“He was extremely angry. He barked orders at the anesthesiologist to monitor Jenna and that he’d be back. Then he ordered me out of the room with him.”

“And did you go?”

“I did. I followed him out and into the scrub room.”

“What happened?”

“He pulled off his gloves first, then his surgical mask, and started to dress me down for calling his capabilities into question in front of the other operating-room occupants. And that’s when I finally realized why he was shaking.”

This is a carefully orchestrated statement by Rhonda. We worked on her testimony for a long time yesterday, and I wanted the jury hanging on her every word.

“Please tell the jury what you observed,” I gently command her.

“I smelled alcohol,” she says matter-of-factly, and I hear a collective inhale from the jury. “It was strong. I’m not sure if he’d been drinking before the surgery, or if it was left over from the night before, but it was enough so I could smell it on his breath from a few feet away.”

“What happened next?” I prod her further.

“He ordered me out of the surgical suite. Told me he was reporting me for insubordination.”

“And did you leave?”

“I did,” she says firmly. “And I went straight to my supervising nurse to report what happened.”

“What did she do?”

“She said she would handle it. Told me to go home for the day and she’d call me later.”

“And did she handle the situation?” I ask, taking a quick peek over at the jury. Their stares are all riveted on Rhonda.

“I’m thinking not,” Rhonda says with derision. “The hospital administrator called me that night and told me my job was terminated.”

“Terminated?” I ask in shock, turning my face to the jury. They all swing their gazes to me, and I can see they are pissed.

“Yes,” Rhonda says quietly, and all twelve sets of eyes swing back to her. “Apparently no one confronted Dr. Summerland that day. They let him continue to operate, and the administrator called him at home that night. He denied my allegations and said I was being belligerent during the surgery, which is why he dismissed me.”

“But surely the other people in the surgical room corroborated your story,” I suggest to her. Although I know the sad answer to this already.

Rhonda shakes her head and looks at the jury with morose eyes. “They didn’t. I think they were afraid of losing their jobs. Dr. Summerland holds a lot of power at the hospital. Plus, I’m not sure they smelled the alcohol the way I did. I only smelled it when he took his mask off.”

I let those last words hang in front of the jury a moment before I return to my chair behind counsel table. After I take a seat, I close my notepad and cap my pen, subtly letting the jury know that I’m just about finished.

“Miss Valasquez,” I say softly, but loud enough that the jury is with me, “is there any doubt in your mind that Dr. Summerland was impaired during that procedure?”

She shakes her head and spans her gaze across the jury box. “No. I smelled the alcohol and saw his shaking hands. His incision was irregular. I’m confident he was too impaired to be performing any type of surgery that day.”

With a grateful smile and a nod of my head, I say, “Thank you, Miss Valasquez. I don’t have any further questions.”

Their next settlement offer came about five minutes after Rhonda Valasquez left the witness stand. Gill tried to attack her credibility, tried to pawn her off as a disgruntled employee who had a bone to pick with Dr. Summerland. She handled it perfectly, stating that she actually got another job pretty quickly, one that paid better and had a better work environment. She was extremely happy to be where she was and not at all upset over being terminated.

In fact, she told Gill on cross-examination, the only thing that did upset her was that no one bothered to stop the surgery so that Jenna wouldn’t be harmed. That effectively shut Gill up—he knew he wouldn’t be able to tarnish her.

Jenna and I spent a lot of time discussing the offer. They laid a million dollars on the table, and it wasn’t something to sneeze at. I was hesitant in turning our noses up at it, because although I could tell the jury was now livid with Dr. Summerland, I couldn’t be sure if they held anything against Jenna.