blood cells in the bone marrow. Normal white cells protect the body from disease, but these can’t because they are defective. Acute means the onset was rapid, and lymphoblastic refers to the type of white blood cells affected—that is, the lymphocytes. Pre-B-cell means the leukemia cells began in the B-cells but weren’t yet fully mature.”
“And what is the expected rate of survival for children with this type of cancer?”
“Well, now it’s quite high. Back then, survival was more uncertain.”
“How did you treat Angelina for her leukemia?”
“With chemotherapy. She underwent six months of treatment, after which she went into remission.”
“Did there come a time when that changed?”
“Yes. About a year and a half later she began exhibiting symptoms. I performed a spinal tap and determined that the leukemia had spread through her central nervous system to her brain.”
“What did that mean for her prognosis.”
“It was very poor.”
“Was there treatment available?”
“Yes, more chemotherapy and this time radiation as well. Her best chance of survival, though, was a bone-marrow transplant with an acceptable match. I agreed to waive my fee, but the hospital had previously extended credit to the Calhouns and weren’t willing to do so again. He needed to raise funds to pay for the treatment. I never heard from the family after that.”
“Dr. Samson, do you believe George Calhoun capable of murdering his daughter?”
“Objection. Calls for speculation,” Getty called out.
“Your Honor, Dr. Samson has treated thousands of children with cancers. I believe he has expertise in how families react to such a diagnosis.”
“I’ll allow it. Go ahead, Dr. Samson.”
“No. I don’t believe he would have harmed his daughter. When families receive news like this, they become very protective of their child, and that was true of the Calhouns. It was clear to me that they loved their daughter very much.”
“Thank you, Dr. Samson. No further questions.”
Getty stood up. “Dr. Samson, would you describe what would happen to Angelina without treatment?”
“She would certainly die.”
“And can you describe what she would experience in the late stages?”
“There would be loss of appetite with accompanying weight loss, significant bruising over her body and considerable pain from the enlargement of her organs.”
“So a parent devoted to his child who couldn’t afford treatment might want to spare his child that agony. Isn’t that possible?”
“I can’t see the Calhouns doing that.”
“But is it possible?”
“I suppose it is.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
Smithson looked at Dani. “Call your next witness.”
She called George Calhoun.
“Mr. Calhoun, when you were arrested for the murder of the child found in the woods in Orland, Indiana, what did you tell the officers?” she asked.
“I told them it couldn’t be my daughter.”
“Did you tell them why it couldn’t be your daughter?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Did there come a time when you told your attorney, Mr. Wilson, that it wasn’t your daughter found in the woods?”
“Yes, ma’am, the very first time I met with him.”
“Did you tell Mr. Wilson why it couldn’t be your daughter?”
“No, not then.”
“At any time?”
“Yes, ma’am. About five years ago, when my last appeal was coming up, I sent him a letter and told him about Angelina, about her being sick and nobody willing to treat her.”
“Is that all you told him?”
“Well, I also told him that we took her to the Mayo Clinic and left her there with all her records so that someone would have to treat her since she was all alone.”
“Mr. Calhoun, you were on trial for murdering your daughter and burying her body in Orland, Indiana. The state sought the death penalty. Why didn’t you tell your lawyer at that time what you had done with Angelina?”
Calhoun shifted in his seat and looked at the floor. “I was afraid if I told them where we left Angelina, they would have taken her back home and then nobody would’ve helped her get better.”
“Why did you decide to tell Mr. Wilson the truth about your daughter five years ago?”
“Well, I figured it was safe for her then. You know, if the treatment helped her, she’d have been all better. And if she’d lived, she’d be 18 then, so she could decide for herself whether she wanted to see me and Sallie again.”
“And if she hadn’t survived?”
“Well, then, if the Mayo Clinic hadn’t been able to help her, then it wouldn’t of mattered anymore if I told the truth.”
“Thank you, Mr. Calhoun. That’s all I have.”
Getty stood and walked to the witness box. “I have a few questions. How many times did you tell Mr. Wilson about your daughter’s illness?”
“Just that once, in the