Chapter 7
The former technician was named Marcus Ellery.
He was sixty-one now.
Retired.
Living in Arizona.
At first he refused to speak.
Then Fairmont’s lawyers publicly described Natalie’s allegations as “unsupported speculation arising from incomplete historical data.”
Marcus changed his mind.
He agreed to an interview with counsel.
No cameras.
No press.
Ryan attended by video.
Marcus began with a sentence nobody liked.
“We did things differently back then.”
Rebecca answered:
“That is usually what people say before describing something they knew was wrong.”
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
Fairmont struggled with donor inventory during several years of rapid growth.
Demand increased.
Certain donor profiles were requested far more often than others.
Tall.
Highly educated.
Strong medical histories.
Specific physical traits.
Rather than tell patients their selected donor was unavailable, administrators sometimes delayed cycles.
That was legal if communicated properly.
Then Dr. Hale introduced what he called continuity matching.
Ryan listened.
“What did that mean?”
Marcus looked at him through the screen.
“Finding another donor who approximated the requested profile.”
“Without telling the patient?”
“Sometimes.”
Natalie’s lawyer leaned forward.
“Sometimes?”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Ryan felt sick.
“Was my material used that way?”
“I don’t remember every code.”
Rebecca placed Ryan’s donor number on screen.
Marcus stared.
His expression changed.
“That one I remember.”
Ryan’s face hardened.
“Why?”
“You tested very well.”
“What does that mean?”
“Medical screening. Genetic panel. Education. Physical profile.”
Ryan hated the clinical language.
“You kept my samples after I withdrew.”
Marcus shook his head.
“I wasn’t management.”
“Did they?”
A long pause.
“Yes.”
That was clue number three.
Ryan asked:
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
Nobody believed that meant one.
Marcus explained that selected donors were sometimes placed on an internal priority inventory list.
If a donor later withdrew, remaining samples were supposed to be destroyed or reserved only according to the signed agreement.
Priority inventory complicated that.
Dr. Hale sometimes placed administrative holds on destruction requests while claiming records had to be reconciled.
“Why?”
Rebecca asked.
Marcus looked at Ryan.
“Because samples were valuable.”
No one in the room spoke.
May you like
For the first time, Mara’s conception looked less like a clerical mistake.
And more like inventory somebody did not want to lose.
