99 - Binder

*Boy, I need a dollar from you. That way anything that you say in here, or to me in general, is covered by client lawyer confidentiality. Just do NOT confess to any crimes that I am required to report. – Celt*

The chairs in the waiting room must have been bought from the Standard Hospital Furnishings Catalog, The Uncomfortable and Ugly Section. The practical, and very unfashionable, chairs were either a drab olive green or dirty burnt orange, not the pretty burnt orange, that other burnt orange, pleather with a stackable frame made of dull black metal piping. The walls were painted light cream with camel colored railing and trim.

Unable to help herself, Camille took a picture and sent it to Clay. She added a comment of “I’ve never seen bland come in so many colors.” Snickering to herself, she hit the send button.

“Worm,” Celt whispered and shook his head. Giving a slight nod, she muted the device and tucked it into her jeans pocket. They each sat in a chair and the three of them made a triangle. With the spacing of the chairs and the masks that they wore, it was hard for them to talk. And the situation dictated that they are not on their phones.

The hideously ugly chairs were spaced a chair width apart and blue painter’s tape crossed every other chair with a printed piece of laminated paper. In the colors of the corporation that owned the hospital, with the hospital and corporate names at the bottom, patrons were reminded to stay six feet apart and be safe with the standard COVID-19 directives.

STAY SAFE - BE SMART.

STAY SIX FEET APART.

PLEASE DO YOUR PART TO PREVENT THE SPREAD OF COVID-19

Beneath the standard three lines of the safety alert, there was another piece of advice. There seemed to be no standard as to what order they went in. It truly looked like it was just in whatever order they were grabbed in.

WASH HANDS

COVER FACE

HAND SANITIZER

STAY HOME

CHECK YOUR TEMP OFTEN

They also had cute little cartoon people acting out the orders that were on their signs.

After nearly thirty minutes, the hospital administrator approached them. He was a tired looking middle-aged man with shaggy salt and pepper hair and light brown eyes behind thick rimmed black glasses sitting above a reusable hospital face mask. His suit looked rumpled as if he had been wearing it for days on end. Or it had been pushed to the back of the closet for five months. Give or take a few weeks.

“I’m hoping that you did not have to wait long,” the man said. “I’m Derek Peters.”

Although Derek knew how long that they had been waiting because they had to wait for him to arrive at the hospital, Celt gave him the kudos he practically begged for.

“Kevin, Camille and Sean,” He motioned to each of them as he gave each name. “I appreciate you coming in to help us resolve the issue. Hopefully, we will be able to settle this without getting the courts involved,” Celt gave his patented friendly and nonthreatening smile. “I’m sure that you agree that would be best.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he motioned to the large waiting area. “Shall we?”

“Due to patient confidentiality, I would advise a more private area,” Celt suggested. He still gave the appearance of a gentle kitten, not hinting at the killer cat inside waiting to sink his fangs into the man’s jugular. “Perhaps a conference room if you would like room to spread out.”

The man nodded and moved towards a nearby door and inputted the code on the lock before placing his card against the reader. With a beep, the lock disengaged, he opened the door and stepped inside to hold the door for the three visitors to enter.

Camille carried the binder that Celt created for her. Celt had his own binder in his soft sided briefcase. Bam Bam did not have a binder. He did not need a binder.

The three Saints settled on one side of the large conference table; Camille sat between the two men. Opening his briefcase, Celt removed a recording device and held it up for Derek to see it.

“Do you mind if I record out conversation? My shorthand is atrocious, and my assistant refuses to try to read my hieroglyphics.”

Chuckling, the older man motioned that he had understood. “I get that. O work with a bunch of doctors. There’s a reason that they have a reputation for bad handwriting.”

Celt placed the device in the center of the table and pressed the button to start the recording. Returning to the briefcase, he removed a hermetically sealed bag that contained a two-inch black binder. Handing the bag over, he removed a second binder that was not in a bag of its own. Deliberately, he kept the front covers out of view.

“Our firm is dedicated to assuring the safety of our staff, clients and the public that we deal with on a daily basis. On the seal, you’ll find the date, time and technician who sterilized and sealed the contents.”

Smiling, the man looked at the seal before reaching for the tab to open it.

“Oh, one moment,” Celt said opening his binder. “I need you to sign that you are receiving the binder and that it was still sealed when you received it.”

Removing two papers from behind the last tab, he signed and dated before moving it towards Derek. The man skimmed over the papers and then signed them. Celt took them back and marked where Camille needed to sign and then Bam Bam.

With that taken care of, Celt placed the documents back in their clear sleeves and flipped back to the front of the binder. Looking at the man across from him, he saw a man staring at the front cover. In metallic Kelly green was the O’Malley, Tully and Burch Law Firm name and iconic emblem.

“Is there an issue, Mr. Peters?” Celt asked.

The other man looked up and flinched. Celt’s voice was still friendly, and he still smiled. But now the man realized that he was looking at a predator on the hunt.

Swallowing, Derek shook his head, “No.”

“Excellent. Now you will see behind the first tab is a signed and notarized medical power of attorney for Keisha Johnson. The next one is the same for her husband, Jasper Johnson.”

Derek swallowed again.

“Now there is a clause, page two, subsection C,” Celt said in hi no nonsense manner, “in both MPOA’s stating that if the spouse is able to make decisions concerning the patient, all decisions will fall to them. This is because the MPOA only becomes active if both parties are incapacitated, ore one is deceased.”

Celt looked at the other man who was squirming uncomfortably in his seat.

“Mr. Johnson’s decision to remove his wife from life support was a legal option. But the decision to remove Mr. Johnson from life support should have been made by Amos or Camille Johnson.”

“I was unaware that Doctor Johnson had an MPOA,” he said defiantly.

Celt nodded as he flipped to the fifth section of the binder in front of him. “If you will look behind the fifth tab, you will see that there is confirmation from your hospital, that is signed and notarized, showing that the MPOA’s, DNR orders and living wills have all been received. Can you please tell me who signed as the hospital representative?”

Derek flipped over to the pages that Celt was looking at. What little bit of color was still in his face, drained as he adjusted the tie that he wore. “I think I need to call legal.”

“I think you need to stop anyone from taking the remains out of the hospital,” Celt suggested. “I highly advise you doing that before you do anything else.”

“Did you know that because you capitulated to the demands of someone who had no authority to make the decision,” Camille asked, her anger seething just under the surface, “Three children did not get to say goodbye to their father.”

“I … I …” he looked between the two nervously and then looked at Bam Bam.

“Trust me,” Bam Bam grinned behind his mask as he sat looking relaxed and as if he had no care in the world, “you do not want me involved in this situation.”

“Then why are you here?”

He chuckled as he leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “To ensure that those orders are enforced.”

Camille and Celt were both grateful for the masks that hid their amused grins as the corporate executive looked at the scruffy man who looked uncomfortable in his suit.

“And who exactly are you?”

“My mother always called me Kevin and those close to me call me Bam Bam.”

“And those not close to you?”

“They usually call me Your Honor.”