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Londregan had nothing personal against Susette. They actually shared a couple of traits. Both were tireless professionals, unusually dedicated to serving those in their care—whether a patient or a client. And when it came to defending something they believed in, they were relentless. Neither one of them knew the word “surrender.”

“Well,” Londregan told those reviewing her application, “if she’s qualified, hire her.” In late September, the city offered Susette the job as lead and nutrition nurse. She accepted and received a small office next door to the courthouse.

October 21, 2002

Steve and Amy Hallquist knew the time had come to sever their ties with the conservancy. They no longer agreed with the direction being taken by Sawyer and the Steffians. “These people don’t know how to put their swords down,” Steve told Amy. “They just hone them constantly.” Amy agreed.

Steve submitted a resignation letter to the conservancy and demanded that the nonprofit corporation remove his name from all lawsuits and appeals and that it stop using his home address as its address of record. “I cannot, in good conscience, continue my relationship with the group,” he wrote. “Furthermore, I cannot endorse or be associated with the irreconcilable proposition recommended by the Conservancy president to have the former NUWC Building #2 demolished.”

Hallquist also withdrew from being represented by Sawyer. “The strategy he has used to negotiate is incompatible with good faith negotiations and is patently obstructionist,” he wrote. “I do not feel that lawsuits should be used as bargaining chips. This kind of leverage is corrupt, fraudulent, and obstruction.”

Amy also submitted a letter of resignation, saying the Steffians and Sawyer were taking the conservancy in a direction she couldn’t support.

October 29, 2002

Susette had barely started her evening shift in the emergency room when the staff got word of an incoming trauma code. Everyone rushed to meet the paramedics who were wheeling in a man on a stretcher. “I always hate these,” Susette said to another nurse. “I’m always worried it’s going to be someone I know.”

The victim had lost a lot of blood and sustained severe cranial and facial injuries in a horrible automobile accident. His pupils were fixed, and he wasn’t breathing on his own. A ventilator mask covered most of his face.

Standing beside the respiratory technician, Susette looked on as doctors cut the victim’s clothes off. Something about the man’s physical features caught her eye.

“Here’s his wallet,” one of the technicians said, passing it past Susette to a nurse behind her. At a quick glance, it looked familiar.

Susette bent down and examined the victim’s hand, dangling lifelessly from the side of the stretcher. She knew the ring on his ring finger. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. Feeling queasy, she stepped toward the nurse who had taken the victim’s wallet. “I know who this is,” Susette said.

“Who?”

“My husband.”

“What?” the nurse said.

“Open the wallet,” Susette said.

The nurse removed the victim’s driver’s license. “It says Timothy LeBlanc.”

“Oh, my God!” Susette screamed. “That’s him.” She sunk to the floor.

The nurse yelled to the doctor, “The victim is Susette’s husband.”

Another technician called for the shift supervisor. “You need to get down here,” she said. “Susette Kelo’s husband was just brought in as a trauma code.”

In a separate room, Susette’s colleagues worked to calm her down. She didn’t bother to tell them that she wasn’t formally married to LeBlanc. Afraid doctors would soon have to decide whether to remove him from life support, she wanted to be in a position to tell them not to. As a nurse, she knew girlfriends and fiancées didn’t have that ability—only spouses did.

Eventually, a surgeon came to see her with an update. LeBlanc had spinal fluid in his nose and ears. Every bone in his face appeared broken. Free air had entered his brain as a result of the skull fracture. The trauma to his face and head had left him unrecognizable.