The Complaint and The Drug Tampering Trial By Tom Breen

New York attorney Brian Bradford is in a desperate situation. Incarcerated at Rikers Island Correctional Facility on multiple felony charges, he faces extended jail time and disbarment. While extraordinary circumstances eventually result in his release, the reunion with his wife quickly turns into personal tragedy and deep emotional regrets.

The downhill spiral of Brian’s life leads to a resetting of his priorities, including an unshakable promise to forever avoid future confrontations with ZeiiMed, the diabolical health insurance company controlled by the sinister and vengeful CEO John Edison. Brian’s previous encounters with ZeiiMed had regrettably resulted in injury and death to those dearest to him.

Years passed quietly. Then, unexpectedly, a phone call from an attorney in Rome suddenly changes his life forever. Brian learns that ZeiiMed is financing, through the Vatican Bank, the distribution to VA Hospitals of mislabeled narcotic pills, falsely misrepresented by ZeiiMed as a non-addictive treatment for PTSD. After traveling to Rome to investigate, Brian decides to file a federal lawsuit against ZeiiMed to expose the harm being inflicted on rehabilitating veterans. In response, ZeiiMed unleashes a plan of action to violently eradicate Brian and win at trial. Attacked by ZeiiMed in the air and at sea, Brian confronts death while frantically attempting to defeat ZeiiMed and protect Meadbhb and Mary, the two indispensable women in his life. Mary, a lawyer, and Meadhbh, a midtown bartender, have always provided life-sustaining guidance and strength to Brian. Once again, their unbreakable bond with Brian is critical to the final outcome.

Sneaky Reads – The Drug Tamper Trial

Prologue

On Wednesday, March 21, 2012, the following updated article appeared on page 6 of the late afternoon edition of the gossip-prone New York Press:

Mouthpiece Mayhem in the Mid-Eighties

 Once again, prominent litigation attorney Brian Bradford was in a bloody confrontation with Mr. John Edison, the Chief Executive Officer of ZeiiMed, the world’s largest health insurance company.

The police confirmed that on Sunday night, Mr. Bradford shot and killed two ZeiiMed security guards inside Mr. Edison’s apartment at 60 East 84^th Street and possibly injured others. He also put two bullets into Mr. Edison, who was taken to the hospital and is expected to recover.

Another two men were found dead by the curb on Eighty-Fourth Street, not far from Edison’s apartment building, but no proof has developed that Mr. Bradford killed them. A police sergeant was shot in the neck at the same location. It was confirmed by reliable sources that Mr. Bradford did not cause the neck wound and actually assisted in stopping the loss of blood. The sergeant is expected to survive. Mr. Bradford was once well respected by the NYPD because he turned into the authorities the killer of Detective Jack Jarrett, who was viciously murdered at JFK airport in 2008.

Mr. Bradford told police that ZeiiMed started the current mayhem by detonating a bomb carried by a drone outside his office. Independent reports confirmed an explosion at 40 Wall Street.

Several years ago, Mr. Bradford and Mr. Edison engaged in a barbarous encounter in the Central Park Ramble that injured both. What could possibly have caused this savage lawyer to escalate his vendetta against Mr. Edison into another vicious clash, while taking the lives of several other people along the way?

Our investigation has not uncovered an answer, but recent events inside the Supreme Court at 60 Centre Street disclosed some information. For the second time, Mr. Bradford commenced a lawsuit against ZeiiMed. He was actually in Court obtaining testimony from ZeiiMed over the past week. It remains a mystery why Mr. Bradford was unsatisfied with resolving his differences in the Courtroom and proceeded to kill, maim and disable his opponents outside the Courtroom.

Mr. Bradford was arrested by the police on Sunday night after his rampage. He is currently awaiting arraignment at Rikers Island. The criminal trial of Mr. Bradford will hopefully provide more details about his itchy trigger finger. However, the more pressing concern of the moment is keeping the violent Mr. Bradford off the streets so his adversaries are no longer subjected to extreme injury or death by this clearly deranged person.

Most remarkably, it turns out that Mr. Bradford did not need to engage in murder and death to defeat Mr. Edison and ZeiiMed. On Tuesday, the jury returned an enormous verdict against ZeiiMed of compensatory damages in the amount of $250 million and punitive damages in the amount of $3.5 billion.

Since Mr. Bradford was incarcerated Sunday night, he was not present in the Courtroom when the verdict was announced. His able colleague, Mary Douglas, appeared as counsel for Plaintiff Martha Dudley. Mrs. Dudley had suffered severe injuries due to a faulty Hip Implant Device manufactured by ZeiiMed.

Mr. Bradford will presumably have little time to enjoy his fee from the verdict. His hideous crimes will probably result in a long-term prison sentence. Another mouthpiece in mothballs. We can only hope this is a new trend. Rather than killing all the lawyers, maybe imprisoning them one by one will prove sufficient.

Chapter 1

Without any human interaction to assist in focusing my attention, my brain tended to randomly wander from one unsolvable, paranoia-induced crisis to the next. I couldn’t control it. Rational thinking was impossible. I worried to the point of insanity over any and all topics that unpredictably invaded my thoughts and increased my anxiety, without any hope of a rational resolution.

My current incarceration at Rikers Island Correctional Facility is the cause of my uncontrollable brain dysfunction and extreme discontent. In solitary confinement for twenty-three hours a day, I remain immobilized on a rusted cot that doesn’t fit my six foot, three inch frame, with nothing to do except stare at the concrete walls until “lights out.” No conversations, except with myself, no books, no television, no radio, no pens and no paper. The only sounds are the harrowing screams of inmates that have given up and let the madness seize control of their remaining faculties.

A comforting sleep of several hours is impossible. Constant idleness in the supine position resulted in short naps throughout the day, causing me to gaze all night into the abyss of a pitch-black cell trapped in an insomnious trance.

Obviously, this is not a simple matter of boredom caused by the repetitious cycle of predictable everyday life. In the past, I often felt a lack of interest in my routine life as a paper-pushing defense attorney in downtown New York City. Then, I encountered what I thought to be the apex of boredom when unforeseen circumstances caused me to be immobilized in a hospital bed after suffering severe injuries from a physical confrontation in the Ramble section of Central Park. At the time, I firmly believed the ultimate trip to the extremes of boredom had been realized. However, the tedium and ennui of my hospitalization were inconsequential when compared to the tortuous sensory deprivation inflicted on me by the New York City Department of Correction.

The cell is eight feet by ten feet with no windows, bright fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling and no fresh air to dilute the overpowering stench of urine. The vent above the bed provides a constant flow of forced hot air that causes the body’s perspiration to quickly turn into an unpleasant odor that doesn’t dissipate until I’m escorted in chains to a weekly shower. The door to the cell is solid metal with a slight opening at eye level and another opening at the bottom to accommodate a food tray.

It’s early April 2012, and I’ve been incarcerated in this claustrophobic confinement since my arrest about two weeks ago. I had a Bail Hearing, but the Court has not yet ruled on my bail application. The prosecutor contended that I was likely to take flight to a foreign jurisdiction rather than appear for trial. I guess the Judge is taking his time deciding the application while I rot in this hell on earth.

My confinement to the Segregation Unit resulted from my derogatory comment to a correction officer performing a cavity probe during a strip search. Also, I was told an incarcerated attorney is often subject to abuse by other inmates, if not segregated from the general population.

So, here I am, alone in my cell, lying on a cot, desperately trying to control my thoughts to avoid, for as long as possible, the inevitable plunge into depression.