expression remained unchanged.
“I was unaware a corporation such as LifeTech operated out of my city. So it was a little odd to receive a phone call from Steven Snyder requesting one of the homicide victims for tissue donation. Especially since the victim was missing his liver.”
He leaned forward. “Sergeant, you seem to be coming very close to insinuating that I am a suspect in this case.”
“Not at all, Doctor. If you can just explain the inner workings of LifeTech and your duties there, I’ll be on my way.”
His eyes narrowed. “Fine, but any more hints at suspicion and I will phone my attorney.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Now,” he began, “I will try and explain this in laymen’s terms, without all of the medical terminology, so you can understand it.” This was another attempt to belittle me. “LifeTech Industries is a corporation that was formed in 1999 by a group of prominent physicians from all over the country. It had become increasingly frustrating for us, as doctors, to see the countless number of patients suffering from a variety of physical impairments. Even though the donors needed were only for tissue, there was still a significant wait for these patients. LifeTech formed and set up offices throughout the state to have immediate access to bodies that are left unclaimed. You see, if they didn’t have the offices spread out, adead homeless man in Cincinnati would go unnoticed. He would be buried in a potter’s field, or cremated and thrown somewhere, when all the while, his skin or bones could have been used by someone in dire need. This way, each LifeTech office is notified by numerous agencies when a body is left unclaimed. We have contracts with city homeless shelters, Salvation Army housing, state prisons, and county human services all over Ohio.”
He cleared his throat and continued. “I don’t have the numbers right this second, Sergeant, but I can assure you, LifeTech has dramatically alleviated the wait for patients in need and has also aided the less fortunate, who don’t have the resources to obtain their needed tissue.”
“And you do only tissue? What about organs? If these people are being given to you, why not take their heart and other organs?”
He laughed, wittingly insulting me. “Oh, Sergeant! Come on! You can’t be that ignorant concerning organ transplantation, can you? Do you realize there are over ninety thousand people waiting for an organ transplant? And only roughly twenty thousand transplants are performed each year. Every day, sixteen to seventeen people die waiting for an organ. Every day! Don’t you think if we could just pull a heart from a homeless man who’s been dead for three days, that the numbers I cited would be obsolete? Need a liver? Go on down to the county morgue! There’s a construction worker that fell off a high-rise last week—take his!” he mocked.
I bit my tongue. “Why don’t you enlighten me, Doctor, since I’m so ignorant, on how harvesting organs works?”
He looked at his watch. “Our time is coming to an end, so I’ll make this brief and use an example. Essentially, if you have an organ donor that was just involved in a fatal car crash and is flatlining in the emergency room, the staff will keep him on life support. They’ll take his eyes out right there, if that’s the organ needed, throw ‘em in a nice little cooler, and hand them over to LifeFlight, who flies them to where they need to go. With organs, time is the key. Once the body dies, the organs die and very quickly become unsuitable for transplant. Tissue—things like skin, bones, and heart valves—is different. There’s a wider window of opportunity with tissue. You have more time. It’s pretty simple, but you get the gist.”
“It sounds like a very lucrative business,” I said flatly.
“Let me put it this way: a man once put his kidney up for auction on the Internet, and the bid was up to five million dollars before it was shut down by the