Everett Faced His Export Orders Across A Deposition Table

The $94,000 demand came with a list of canceled appointments.

Some patients had canceled before I asked my first question.

Nina drew a line under those dates.

"We answer the claim," she said. "We don't pay him because he printed a number."

I had $218 in checking. A printed number could still keep me awake.

I took temporary work checking equipment at a rehabilitation center outside Worcester. The job paid $27 an hour. The supervisor asked about the lawsuit. I told her what was filed and what was disputed.

"Can you document a leak test?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Start Monday."

For the first time in months, someone had asked me a question I could answer with my hands.

I bought the tires after my second paycheck. Waiting at the shop, I called my brother and sent him $100 toward the loan.

"You didn't have to do that yet," he said.

"I needed one number to get smaller."

He understood. That night I slept for five hours without waking to check whether Nina had sent another message.

Ruth called that weekend. She had rejected the courtesy adjustment.

"I want the whole bill fixed," she said. "And I don't want the next person told I agreed that night happened."

Helen had filed the patients' claims separately. Each person chose what to share. The state investigators were reviewing bills too, including claims paid with public funds.

Our cases touched the same records. They were still different cases, with different people making choices.

By June, twenty-three patients had given statements or authorized records for review. Five others had declined. Nobody put their names on our list as supporters.

Doreen brought her notebook to every meeting.

"If I leave it home, I think I'll forget," she said.

"You can read from it," Helen told her.

"Even if he says I'm confused?"

"Especially then."

Everett's deposition took place in a plain room with a water pitcher and a window that would not open.

I sat beside Nina. Everett wore a dark suit and the silver glasses on their cord.

His lawyer had asked for everyone to keep the questions narrow.

Nina began with the retention policy.

"Is this your signature?"

"Yes."

"Did Mr. Barreto have a duty to retain the monthly audit receipts?"

"For routine quality work."

"Was that duty withdrawn before his email about repeat studies?"

"I don't recall."

There was no withdrawal document.

She moved to the export service.

"Does QC_BARRETO identify a person typing at a keyboard?"

"It has his name."

"That wasn't my question."

His lawyer touched his sleeve. Everett took a drink.

"It's a service account," he said.

Nina placed the full log in front of him.

"These copy jobs began under your owner account. Who else was authorized to use it?"

"No one. But people shared terminals."

"Was the account protected by your separate password?"

"Yes."

"Did you report that password stolen?"

"No."

She did not raise her voice. The court reporter's keys made a soft, steady rain.

Everett said the copied files were training examples. Nina asked why they appeared in finalized patient reports tied to paid claims.

"There may have been a clerical error."

She handed him a message produced from his clinic email. It told billing staff to use a completed template when a repeat slot stayed empty, then close the account before month-end.

"What did 'completed template' mean?"

He stared at the page.

"I would need the full context."

"The full message chain follows. Take your time."

I watched his thumb bend one corner. I thought about all the bills patients had bent that same way.

Dr. Dutt gave testimony the following week. She said she had relied too much on the clinic's prepared summaries. Some repeat orders had been presented to patients before she reviewed the reason.

"I should have stopped that process sooner," she said.

She agreed to help correct the records. Her statement did not erase her part. It gave investigators something they could test against the dates.

Then the clinic produced a check-in sheet with Ruth's signature on her Florida night.

For one sick hour, I thought we had missed something.

Helen asked for the source file. The page had been made from Ruth's first visit. Even a tiny coffee ring beside her name had been copied. The original entry remained in the retained record.

Ruth looked at the two pages together.

"They kept my mistake," she said. "I spilled that coffee."

She signed a statement identifying the first visit and denying the second.

On Friday, Nina sent me a court notice. The state had filed an action and sought an order to protect the clinic's records and money while the cases proceeded.

The hearing was Monday morning in Worcester.