Die-Aly$is

By John M. Whiddon

About the Book
Die-Aly$is is the final novel in the mystery series that has come to be known as the “Webb Espy Chronicles.” This thought-provoking third story in the trilogy is more than just a traditional mystery and begins with a Florida Southern District Federal judge, an eccentric individual, and an eclectic jurist, who is well in front of the jurisprudence curve as compared to his legal peers. The sage old legal scholar, in the twilight of his career, has long ago reconciled his moral and ethical thinking related to the hypocritical limitations and archaic institutional precedents existing in the legal arena that restrict common sense.
A whistleblower case assigned to his court docket provides the impetus for inserting his conniving influence into the mix to alleviate an egregious wrong. From his catbird seat overlooking the entire gameboard, the judge easily identifies the whistleblower and although he opines she is extremely intelligent and passionate in her pursuit of justice, she is well in over her head and does not begin to appreciate who all the players are, much less the unimaginable danger she placed on herself.
The judge, without hesitation, decides to intervene and level the playing field through an orchestrated surreptitious scheme to provide the whistleblower with a supporting cast. That supporting cast is Webb Espy and his talented entourage of “giant killers.” Once achieved, it’s GAME ON! End-Stage Renal Disease and the systems involved with planning, funding, administering, and regulating those providing such services are fraught with aberrant and fraudulent practices. Greed is most often the motive, but not always.
Die-Aly$is encapsulates the quagmire of competitive participants that includes mobsters, Corporate America’s prescription for-profit entities, self-referral Houdinis, and corrupt politicians, as well as an arm of the invisible U.S. Government for a share of the booty. As in the previous two books, the characters are unique, sometimes malicious, and often delicious and easy to visualize. The corkscrew unveiling of the plot runs the gamut from black market kidneys to an assassin that does not exist. Beyond the mystery itself, as the story unfolds there are legitimate questions about modern-day Robin Hoods, the moral right of civil disobedience as well as who are the real good guys and bad guys, and whether it is okay to do something wrong to achieve something right.

About the Author
John M. Whiddon is a native Floridian, born in the small panhandle town of Chattahoochee, Florida. An avid reader and writer with a background in the healthcare industry, Whiddon ran Florida’s Medicaid Program Integrity Office for more than a decade and, upon retirement, opened a private healthcare regulatory consulting business in 1995. Whiddon received his Bachelor’s degree from McMurry College, his Master’s from Florida State University, where he also taught for five years, and his post-graduate work in Public Administration from Nova University. He is a veteran and served in the United States Air Force from 1966 through 1970. He is involved in numerous civic and conservation organizations. He has been married for almost sixty years and has two children and one granddaughter.
Whiddon enjoys calling turkeys, wing shooting, mentoring children from single-parent families, and writing children’s short stories. He currently is a partner in MGW Outfitters, a prestigious wing shooting operation in Argentina and Uruguay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Aug 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798890275172

Book preview

Foreword

by C. David Fonvielle, Esq.

Fonvielle, Lewis, Messer, & McConnaughhay

In 1995, I was a member of Florida’s Tobacco Team of trial lawyers that filed suit against the tobacco industry on behalf of the State of Florida. We were attempting to force the tobacco industry to reimburse the State for Medicaid expenditures paid for the treatment of smoking-related illnesses. In 1997, the tobacco industry settled the lawsuit as we were picking the jury in Palm Beach, Florida. The settlement was the largest civil litigation settlement in United States history.

During the three years of litigation, I was shocked by what I learned about Florida’s Medicaid disbursement program. Much of what I learned came about when I flew to New York City to take the deposition of one of the tobacco industry’s expert witnesses, chosen by them because of his extensive knowledge and expertise regarding Florida’s Medicaid oversight and disbursement program. That expert witness was John M. Whiddon.

When I heard John had written a book about Florida’s Medicaid Program and the potential, and supposedly fictitious, how it might be compromised, I knew it would be good. But I didn’t know it would be this good.

Die-Aly$is is the third part of John’s trilogy, and by this time, Webb Espy has matured into not only a brilliant, and now gifted, analyst and facilitator, but he continues to develop characteristics that prove what a special author John Whiddon has become. Since The Sunshine Shenanigan, Webb has had an attempt on his life, spent months in Switzerland recovering from this failed attempt, as well as from the tragic loss of his family, remarried, and found himself enlightened with new cognitive and analytical abilities. Not only had Webb Espy matured, since the first volume of this trilogy, but John Whiddon, as the author, has also.

In Die-Aly$is, John hooks the reader from the beginning and establishes his status as a must-read author. Webb Espy has become someone every reader can not only identify with but wants to identify with. Webb leads a life full of great friends, loving relationships, and adventure. The theme of the book, as it relates to Florida’s Medicaid disbursement program, well developed at this point, is one we all long for. John’s development of Webb’s relationships with his close friends, especially Mario Diaz, continues and is what everyone desires in their own life. In Die-Aly$is, the introduction of new and most intriguing characters such as Little Willie Diozos will enthrall you, and the accompanying plot, which includes another attempt on Webb’s life, will keep you turning pages and yearning for more.

No one else could take Florida’s Medicaid Program and spin it into this exciting trilogy packed full of life philosophy, personal relationships, love, tragedy, espionage, Black Ops, and more, other than John Whiddon. That said, there is one part of Die-Aly$is that I must object to. Being the third book of the trilogy, and therefore presumptively the final one, John needs to continue with Webb Espy’s story. Read on, you won’t regret it!

Introduction

The consequence of denying, withholding, restricting, or terminating dialysis services to individuals in need of such services is nothing less than a death sentence! Such practices are premeditated, condoned, and practiced routinely by a system fraught with greed and corruption. These egregious practices are enhanced and facilitated systemically through the absence of legislative mandates, administrative incompetence, or anything even closely resembling accountability. The existing voids in codified policy and independent watchdog activities have taken a life of their own and have become institutionalized, resulting in a dysfunctional status quo.

To date, advocate roles have been the cornerstone of efforts in dealing with individual interventions on a case-by-case basis, but it would be less than honest to suggest these case studies and positive resolutions have had any significant impact on the primary systemic issues that are so deeply rooted in the institutional practices. There are efforts on the horizon that provide a glimmer of hope and promise that may impact the traditional deficiencies we have been forced to accept. These potential changes start with an acknowledgment of the problem. That acknowledgment can only begin once awareness and information become intuitively obvious to the casual observer. Recently, there have been several independent initiatives that presume to accomplish just that. The pen is mightier than the sword. There are numerous ways to skin a cat, but there are generally preferred ways. All the scholarly treatises have purpose and credibility, but limited utility if they are only read esoterically by other peers and academicians. Documentaries represent another important venue for disseminating information to bring forth certain awareness. Occasionally, something else draws attention to the public and may have a significant impact that was anticipated. It was reported that when President Lincoln was first introduced to Harriett Beecher Stowe, he was said to remark, So you’re the little lady that started the big war! The analogy of John M. Whiddon’s fictional novel Die-Aly$is is exaggerated but hits the mark. He gets it and he nailed it!

Arlene Mullins, Patient Advocate

CEO, Dialysis Advocates

Prologue

The would-be assassin’s lifeless body remained on the park bench as if he was sleeping off an early evening binge. Within two minutes after his intended targets left their perch on a bench across the green space, some fifty yards away, and began strolling back toward their hotel and were out of sight, a black paneled van arrived on the scene, and two uniformed clones emerged with a hand truck gurney in tow and, expertly using Velcro to strap his remains in place, loaded the corpse inside the vehicle. The whole ordeal took a total of seventy-three seconds.

Her instructions had been simple and direct as to what was to be done. There was no possibility of any type of misinterpretation or need for clarification. Once the body had been extracted, it was to be delivered to a designated location. At that stage in the process, there were precise protocols that would be followed to the letter without deviation.

The primary goal was identification. In an attempt to accomplish this fingerprints, dental molds, tissue samples, blood typing, and foot imprints were performed. The body was photographed and videotaped from head to toe concentrating on scars or any aberrant features, including tattoos, etc. While these activities were in progress, another team was preoccupied with examining the items and articles discovered on his person or in his possession. If there was evidence of hotel accommodations or other potential places of domicile, a team of professional infiltrators would be dispatched to those locations with another set of protocols.

Once the corpse had served its purpose, it was removed from the examination area and transported to a disguised funeral home where, upon minutes of arrival, an unceremonious cremation without fanfare would occur.

When all was said and done, in less than an hour and forty-five minutes, there had been a reversal of fate as the hunter had become the prey and had vanished from this world as though he had never existed. His disappearing act, however, was just the start of a series of events that generated a variety of consequences for numerous interested and related parties.

Chapter 1

Annie and the Judge

She would have killed for a cigarette at the moment, and she did not smoke! Annette Goldman had long ago determined she was not addicted to coffin nails and confirmed the fact to herself once again, while reserving the right to debate the issue at some later more convenient time, once she had calmed herself from the nicotine-deprived conniption hissy fit she was presently experiencing. The most disturbing aspect of her current state was that she had not smoked or even thought about a cigarette in over seven years! This is just crazy! she kept repeating to herself over and over. Her day had begun simply enough. She had been just sitting there in her breakfast nook drinking a second cup of mid-morning coffee, enjoying a challenging crossword puzzle when the whole world was turned upside down with a simple, yet bizarre, phone call. Annie, as everyone called her, and she preferred the sobriquet, had never considered herself to be a brave individual. She did, however, possess the courage of conviction, and that single attribute trumped a number of her lesser personality deficits. Annie could have been a handsome woman if she had any interest in displaying such a persona. Vanity was absent from her repertoire, and she refused to allow herself to be objectified; however, even with the sincerest intentions, such efforts were akin to the King with No Clothes. She had married at twenty-five to the man of her dreams. He was not—resulting in an annulment in less than three months, and that was the end of formalized nuptials up to this point in her life! Annie liked men, she just did not like living with them. She concluded via osmosis it was much easier and more pragmatic to hire a handyman when deemed necessary rather than chain oneself to the chains of domestic slavery responsibilities. An unintended consequence of such a lifestyle sent the wrong signals to numerous individuals in the lesbian community, and she was routinely thwarting the well-intentioned overtures by members of that persuasion.

At forty-four, she had carved out a comfort zone for herself that included a few very close and dear friends of both genders, no significant other, or the baggage that came with such relationships, and an exaggerated penchant for good books, the arts, and fine port wines. For the most part, her life centered around her work, for which she was passionate. To quote a commercial, She was extremely comfortable in her own skin. She worked diligently, enjoyed her lifestyle, and was financially secure.

The invitation, summons, or whatever it might be termed had unnerved her and somehow, now three hours later, she found herself in a small waiting area outside The Honorable District Court Judge Benjamin Frankel’s chambers in Florida’s Southern District in the Federal courthouse on Miami Avenue in Downtown Miami. As she canvassed the sparsely decorated cubbyhole of a waiting room, which she settled could best be described as Early Salvation Army, try as she might, she was unable to reconstruct with specificity the exact content of the earlier phone call. The caller’s voice had been female, who she initially simply assumed was the judge’s secretary or possibly a staff assistant, but again, that was purely an assumption. What precisely the lady said or how she may have said it was now simply a blur of words. Thinking back on the brief exchange on the phone call, she could not decipher whether there was any reason to suggest that the meeting was voluntary or optional on her part. She was only able to recall parts of phrases and information. She did memorize in detail the instructions related to the appointment time and where she was to present herself after arriving at the courthouse. She thought she recalled the caller saying, Would appreciate the opportunity to meet with you, but she was not certain. Of two things she was relatively positive: First, to her knowledge she had never before met Judge Frankel, and secondly, for some other reason beyond her ability to fathom, an audience with a Federal judge in his chambers had to be something other than just a random social rendezvous.

As she arrived at the courthouse destination, it was as if she was expected and treated like a special guest. A bailiff who would have shamed Hulk Hogan greeted her at the reception area in a cordial manner she deemed was reserved for dignitaries and immediately began escorting her expertly through a maze of halls and corridors to a small waiting area outside what he claimed was Judge Frankel’s chambers.

The wait, which seemed excruciatingly long but was not, allowed her mind to oscillate the extremes from anxiety to curiosity. The sound of a door opening interrupted her thoughts and her eyes focused immediately in the direction of the sound. She was unprepared for what she witnessed next. She had anticipated a receptionist of some variety would greet her and then escort her to the judge’s chambers. Instead, an elf of a man resembling one or a combination of several of the seven dwarfs came waddling eagerly toward her with his hand outstretched and the most genuine smile she had ever encountered. His smile and accompanying demeanor had the effect of calming her instantly.

Ms. Goldman, thank you so much for coming on such short notice. I hope it has not been that much of an inconvenience. My name is Judge Frankel, but please just call me Judge or Happy or whatever. May I be allowed to address you as Annie? he questioned while displaying a huge contagious grin.

Please, by all means, she replied politely.

You know, sometimes my right arm, Ms. Evelyn, tends to be a mite more formal than is deemed necessary when tending to my business and welfare and promotes a somewhat less-than-hospitable atmosphere than I normally prefer. At any rate, thank you so much for coming, he continued as he ushered her through a small foyer and into his private chambers.

Although Annie could not have known it at the time, behind the external façade, the man who had just introduced himself was a brilliant jurist, one of the most renowned scholars of constitutional law, and potentially the foremost legal authority on whistleblower precedents and related case law. Peers with inside knowledge of such things claimed that, due to a series of coincidences related to political timing, an untimely illness, and the luck of the draw, Judge Benjamin Frankel might very well have been nominated and appointed to the Supreme Court in place of Antonin Scalia in 1986. Although their political and philosophical orientations varied widely, they shared pedigrees and scholarly insights that captured the awe and respect of peers at both ends of the legal spectrum. Scalia, a strict constructionist, was at constant odds with Frankel, who viewed the foundation of the evolutionary document from a progressive perspective of a moving target. Scalia looked at Jefferson as a man gifted with brilliance as if ordained by God. Frankel, on the other hand, rejected offhandedly any deity association and took a more pragmatic position, which simply viewed Jefferson as a genius, ahead of his times, with all the hypocritical madness that comes with a man of his times. Frankel’s self-evaluation held no pretense of special insights toward human objectivity, but he did maintain, to the deference of others, that it might be approached with more intellectual honesty. Mutual friends, both giants of their era, they often wondered about the current state of the nation considering the numerous 5-4 decisions, if Frankel had been appointed to the high court instead of Scalia. Unknown to most, Scalia and Frankel were close friends and often hunted together. Frankel was the most proficient hunter of the two and in hunting camp, the two needled one another unmercifully.

The judge asked, May I offer you some refreshment? I am about to pour myself a mug, as he nodded toward the carafe.

Yes, thank you, that would be nice. I don’t believe I have hit my caffeine quota for the day yet. She responded as casually as she knew how given the circumstances.

And how do you take it?

As pure and as black as you have it.

Well, that makes it all pretty easy because we are of a like mind.

The judge wasted no time in getting down to business after he threw Annie a couple of curves. After the brief small talk, he astonished her by asking how her mother was and if she still resided in Brunswick, Georgia. The question caught her off-guard and made her initially wonder if he had known her mother previously in some manner. It dawned on her immediately, however, that if the judge was meeting with her, there was a reason and, if there was a reason, he had taken the time to do due diligence and had compiled a dossier on her. She decided not to force the agenda and let the judge proceed at his own pace. Eventually, he began to come forth. Although unrehearsed, he effortlessly and extemporaneously began a series of rhetorical questions followed by either explanation, folksy allegories, or illustrative tales of morals or wisdom.

"You know probably the best thing about being a judge? And, I say ‘best thing’ metaphorically. A judge, you see, doesn’t have to play by the same rules that are set for those prosecuting or defending cases. A judge is often privy to things that neither side may be aware of. Sometimes a judge gets to peep behind the proverbial curtain and see things that are hidden from everyone except himself. Due to the fact judges are involved in a multitude of other cases and have access to all types of information that may be relevant, but inadmissible for various technical reasons, they are in a unique catbird seat to appreciate the appropriateness or relevancy of seemingly unrelated things connected to a particular case or an isolated verdict. Often, when you see a judge set aside a jury verdict, it is due to a discretionary application of interrelated facts known only to the judge yet unknown to some or possibly to all of the other participants."

Sounds like it could be a real difficult juggling act at times. It has to be problematic at times to choose and apply accordingly among the confines of the law, one’s conscience, and actual or legitimate justice, Annie offered.

Yes, it strains the limits of cerebral abilities and man’s ultimate integrity. That is why there are judges and there are good judges. He laughed jokingly.

Why am I here? she asked pointedly.

I am going to get to that, but you need to indulge and hopefully trust me a while longer, if you will. I’ll try to move things along as best I can.

Okay then, I’m your audience and I could use a refill.

Certainly, let me have your cup. Have you ever heard of anything called the ‘MJG’? More than likely, you have not. It is an abbreviation for the Miami Jewish Grapevine, and it has been around for years in South Florida and obviously beyond, as you might anticipate.

No, you are right. I have no familiarity with the MJG. I honestly don’t believe I have ever heard of either MJG or the Miami Jewish Grapevine used in conversations in my presence.

"Well, it’s of no matter, but take my word for it, it does exist, and it serves a variety of purposes. Although it generates and operates as a rumor mill on occasion, it nevertheless provides a valuable type of networking for certain kinds of information that you will not, or rather generally are not apt to find in the Miami Herald. Vetting information aside, when something makes it to the upper echelons of the MJG and comes to the attention of the impact players and participants, serious due diligence is launched to verify or determine ‘if where there is smoke there must be some fire.’"

Okay, I’m following so far, I believe, but I got to say in all honesty, I got no idea where this is headed.

We are almost there, and it ought to become clearer. I currently have a significant case I have been assigned that I am about to rule on several preliminary motions by attorneys from both sides. Before I rule on these various motions, I want to make sure everyone who is potentially involved, either directly or as related parties with individual interests, understands their roles, rights, responsibilities, and the potential consequences related to this particular case. At this point, the judge paused, gazed up at the ceiling, let out a deep sigh, and continued his monologue. From this point forward, I am going to change gears and begin speaking in what one refers to as hypotheticals. Do you comprehend why one chooses to speak in hypotheticals? He looked at her questioningly.

I believe I do. When or rather if one speaks hypothetically, it often means they are simply presenting a scenario or a position that may not necessarily be accurate or one that possibly even exists. In some ways, it is nothing more than an example that illustrates a potential point or position with no real accountability or legitimate validity. I suspect someone speaking hypothetically often does so to hedge, protect against, or deflect any liability related to realistic or ethical constraints.

Annie, are you sure you didn’t attend law school somewhere along the line? You nailed it pretty well, but let me just say a couple of other things as well. Speaking hypothetically often is simply used to present an argument or force someone to consider an example. People who represent the legal professions operate under a code of honor and a different set of ethical requirements than other citizens of a community. A judge, in my opinion, has even more of a responsibility to be both accountable and ethical. Does any of this begin to make sense, Annie? Judge Frankel asked her directly.

Yes, I believe I get the connection, but I have to confess, I’m not sure how it applies to me in any direct way.

Well, that’s more or less what I suspected and that’s why I invited you to have a cup of coffee with me today. Hypothetically speaking, a judge, as I pointed out earlier, knows things and is aware of historical events that might be considered invisible to the general public. Let’s also assume that based on other historical cases a judge might know about organized conspiracies and players involved who care less about patients’ rights or quality of care. Let’s also just go ahead and assume that some of these unsavory groups ‘have more money than Carter has liver pills’ and can afford the finest silk-stocking firms and legal resources that money can buy. Are you catching my drift?

Yes, I’m listening. You’ve got my attention.

Good, let’s proceed then. Based on the foregoing, the judge overseeing such a case just described learns there is a whistleblower involved in the filed charges and is allegedly protected under the law, yet the judge is also cognizant that, in reality, there exists only a thin curtain of protection that easily can become transparent through a simple process of elimination. Whistleblowers have a variety of motives for their actions and might be categorized to some extent. Some do it out of revenge, others to avenge a personal wrong, some for a cause or to correct an injustice, and then, of course, some do it for reward or mercenary motives. Whatever the motive might be, a whistleblower deserves the absolute best protection the law allows regardless of specific circumstances.

The use of the term whistleblower hit her like TNT and the impact sucked the breath from her lungs. The first thought that came into her mind was that the sly old bastard had figured it out. Everything he had been alluding to and then resorting to the hypothetical stunt now made sense. He knew, and he was letting her know he knew, but why? There was no reason for him to go through this clever charade unless he was attempting to warn her of some impending peril of which she was unaware. He must know something she did not and was walking a precarious legal tightrope to make certain she understood there were potentially significant risks of exposure to her that had not been considered. She did not attempt to kid herself. The judge would have had to be blind not to pick up on her internal distress. She made every effort to mask her anguish, but she suspected he saw right through it.

Let me ask you, do you have a favorite cartoon cat? Judge Frankel asked.

Hmmm, well, yes, I’m kind of partial to the likes of Sylvester, Tom, Garfield and, of course, the Pink Panther, if you consider him a cat.

Excellent, let’s go with Garfield for this illustration. One of my favorite cartoons is a sequence of events in which you witness Garfield checking out a birdbath that has several little tweedy birds merrily splashing around. Garfield has a lightbulb appear in the form of a brilliant idea and in the next caption you see Garfield converting and contorting himself into the form of a birdbath by stretching his mouth as wide as possible and filling it with water. The last caption you see is Garfield engulfed by a huge buzzard-like bird. The moral to the story is simple: Not only do you get what you ask for sometimes, but you also get that and a whole hell of a lot more.

Yeah, I remember that one. One of my favorites, Annie chuckled.

Following up, then. Proceeding along the same line. Let’s assume the judge knows or has figured out via his resources and intel who the whistleblower is. Let’s also assume the judge is relatively confident that the whistleblower does not realize he or she has independent legal standing and that those individuals assigned to prosecute the case have no legal responsibility or ability to guard the independent and individual rights of the whistleblower. Although the judge has no extraordinary responsibility to the specific whistleblower, other than what is provided under the law, or any role of protector, he senses an obligation from some innate source to reach beyond the restraints that are so ill-defined.

Annie looked at the wise old man with a respect reserved for truly special individuals. She was pretty sure she detected a fleeting wink as he made his final point.

Well, Annie, now all I’m saying in a purely hypothetical sense is that a true whistleblower, such as I’ve conjured up here, is not only entitled to individual legal representation, it is imperative! Now as we end our little tea party, let me ask you a question. You are quite a reader, is that correct?

Oh, yes, I am a prolific reader and I enjoy all kinds of materials.

"Excellent, very good. My favorite book is The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, which was written in 1844. I refer to it often for many reasons. I can’t tell you how many problems I have solved or at least have found a way to deal with by referring to that book time and time again. Here is a copy for you—my gift. I have underlined some of my favorite parts that may assist you as well from time to time."

How can I ever thank you? she uttered as he was ushering her toward the door.

By reading it at your earliest convenience, he stated matter-of-factly.

Once his guest had exited the premises, Judge Frankel retrieved his coffee cup, went to his bar, which was camouflaged as a credenza, poured a generous portion of Kalua into the mug, and filled it with black coffee. He then proceeded to situate himself in his favorite historically self-proclaimed fat chair and reflected on what had just transpired. The questions emerged quickly. Had he crossed the line? Did he have a right or an obligation to manipulate this situation in somewhat of a complicit manner, like moving chess pieces around the board toward a particular end, based solely on criteria of his choosing? One thing he realized right off: Annette Goldman was not a pawn. She possessed several intangibles he had not counted on, and this realization was both surprisingly insightful and appealing. He would trade a pawn for a queen any day! From a broader perspective, the judge knew without a doubt he had just laid the tracks and launched a strategy that could only end in a train wreck.