Chapter 9 - THE DOCTOR WHO NEVER TREATED ME
Dr. Lawrence Keene was not a psychiatrist.
He had once held a medical license.
It was revoked six years earlier after he falsified disability evaluations.
David helped him appeal the revocation.
The appeal failed.
But their relationship continued.
Keene created medical records for clients who needed convenient diagnoses.
Some records helped wealthy parents gain control of family trusts.
Others helped husbands discredit wives during divorces.
My file was not unique.
Agent Reed found seventeen women described as unstable by Keene.
In eleven cases, David or someone at his law firm represented the husband.
Seven women lost custody of their children.
Four lost ownership of businesses or property.
One disappeared after being committed to a private treatment facility.
The pattern transformed my case into something larger.
David had not invented the plan for me.
He had used it before.
Naomi studied the files.
“He specialized in destroying credibility.”
“Why would Sylvia need him?”
“Because control is easier when the victim becomes the problem.”
One woman agreed to meet us.
Her name was Marissa Cole.
She had been married to one of David’s clients.
Three years earlier, she discovered her husband hiding money.
When she confronted him, Keene diagnosed her with paranoid delusions.
David used the report in court.
Marissa lost temporary custody of her son.
By the time she proved the diagnosis was false, her husband had moved money overseas.
“David smiled through the entire hearing,” Marissa told me.
“He knew the report was fake.”
“Why didn’t you report him?”
“I did.”
“To Sheriff Keller.”
The complaint disappeared.
Marissa looked at my stomach.
“You have a chance because they made one mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“They did it to someone whose father could not be frightened.”
I shook my head.
“My father is not why the evidence exists.”
“No.”
“But he is why they cannot bury it easily.”
Her honesty hurt because it was true.
Privilege had protected me when other women had stood alone.
I could not change that.
But I could decide what to do with it.
I asked Naomi to contact every woman connected to Keene.
“We help them reopen their cases.”
“This could take years.”
“Then it takes years.”
That afternoon, police found Keene’s car at a private airfield.
His passport was inside.
So was a suitcase.
But Keene was gone.
Security footage showed him entering an SUV owned by Sylvia.
Sylvia claimed the vehicle had been stolen.
Investigators did not believe her.
Then a traffic camera captured the SUV heading toward David’s family cabin in Virginia.
Federal agents surrounded the cabin before sunrise.
Inside, they found Dr. Keene.
They also found boxes of files.
One folder carried my baby’s name.
Not Clara.
A different name.
DAVID JONATHAN MERCER JR.
David had already decided I was carrying a son.
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And he planned to erase me from the birth certificate.
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