“The afternoon Amanda Clemmons broke her leg,” Maureen said, “she was taken to Municipal’s emergency room, where the bone was X-rayed and set. This was a simple procedure. Then she was moved to another room, where she was to spend the night.

“Sometime after midnight and before the sun came up, Amanda was given a deadly dose of Cytoxan, a chemotherapy drug, instead of Vicodin, a painkiller that would have given her a good night’s sleep.

“That terrible night, Amanda died an excruciating and senseless death, ladies and gentlemen, and we have to ask why this happened. Why this woman’s life was ripped away from her long before her time.

“Over the course of this trial, I’ll tell you about Amanda and about the nineteen other people who died from similar drug-related, lethal disasters. But I’ll tell you why they died right now.

“It was because of San Francisco Municipal’s rampant, irrefutable greed.

“People died because again and again Municipal Hospital put cost efficiency above patient care.

“I’m going to tell you a lot of things about Municipal that you’ll wish you didn’t know,” O’Mara said, sweeping the jury box with her eyes.

“You’ll learn that procedures have repeatedly been violated, and poorly trained people have been hired on the cheap and made to work mind-numbing hours. All in the interest of protecting the bottom line, all in the interest of keeping profits among the highest of all San Francisco’s hospitals.

“And I can assure you the twenty deceased patients I represent are just the beginning of this horrible scandal—”

Kramer leaped to his feet.

“Argumentative, Your Honor! I’ve been patient, but Counsel’s remarks are inflammatory and actually slanderous—”

“Sustained. Don’t test me, Counselor,” said Judge Bevins to Maureen O’Mara. He shook his head. “Next time you cross the line, I’m slapping you with a fine. It will get much more serious after that.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” O’Mara said. “I’ll be more careful.”