None of that was true-in reality, it was the opposite of the truth. But not a single reporter had called her father to ask his side of the story. Not one. Behind Rick Diehl stood Jack Watson, the famous philanthropist. The media assumed that Watson was the good guy, and therefore her father was the bad guy. Once that version of the morality play appeared in theNew York Times (written by the local entertainment reporter), everybody else fell into line. There was a huge “me, too” piece in theL.A. Times, trying to outdo the New York version in vilifying her father. And the local news shows kept up a daily drumbeat about the man who wanted to halt medical progress, the man who dared criticize UCLA, that renowned center of learning, the great hometown university. A half-dozen cameras followed her and her father whenever they walked up the courthouse steps.

Their own efforts to get the story out had been singularly unsuccessful. Her father’s hired media advisor was competent enough, but no match for Jack Watson’s well-oiled, well-financed machine.

Of course, members of the jury would have seen some of the coverage. And the impact of the coverage was to put added pressure on her father not merely to tell his story, but also to redeem himself, to contradict the damage already done to him by the press, before he ever got to the witness stand.

Her father’s attorney stood and began his questions. “Mr. Burnet, let me take you back to the month of June, some eight years ago. What were you doing at that time?”

“I was working construction,” her father said, in a firm voice. “Supervising all the welding on the Calgary natural gas pipeline.”

“And when did you first suspect you were ill?”

“I started waking up in the night. Soaking wet, drenched.”

“You had a fever?”

“I thought so.”

“You consulted a doctor?”

“Not for a while,” he said. “I thought I had the flu or something. But the sweats never stopped. After a month, I started to feel very weak. Then I went to the doctor.”