The case against Dr. WC unfolded like a story that the jury, and later the appellate court, found disturbingly straightforward. C was a spinal surgeon. The complainant was a patient who came to him for a consultation. What should have been a routine medical encounter instead became the center of a criminal prosecution.
At trial, the complainant described a sequence of events that left little ambiguity. She testified that during the appointment, C veered sharply away from anything resembling professional conduct. He asked her if she wanted to be his “sugar baby.” He removed her bra. He kissed her neck. He squeezed her breasts. He inserted his fingers into her vagina. He placed her hand on his erect penis. It was a cascade of unwanted, escalating contact — and the jury believed her.
The prosecution didn’t rely on her testimony alone. They had a controlled phone call arranged by the police, during which C didn’t deny the behavior. Instead, he told her to be “discreet,” bragged about having many “sugar daughters,” and giggled “absolutely” when she asked whether he enjoyed touching her. That call became a kind of audio confession, reinforcing the complainant’s account and giving the jury a window into C’s own words and demeanor.
On appeal, C didn’t challenge the strength of the evidence. He didn’t argue that the jury got the facts wrong. Instead, he focused on the prosecutor’s summation and a handful of evidentiary rulings. But those arguments never gained traction.
The appellate court noted that many of C’s complaints about the prosecutor’s closing remarks weren’t preserved — meaning his trial lawyer didn’t object at the time. And even when the court looked at the remarks anyway, it found nothing that undermined the fairness of the trial. Some comments were sharp, even calling C a liar, but they were tied to the evidence and the defense’s own arguments. The trial judge had also issued curative instructions, which the appellate court viewed as more than enough to neutralize any potential prejudice.
C also argued that the judge improperly limited his ability to use leading questions during his own testimony and wrongly excluded testimony from his secretary. The appellate court brushed these aside. Leading questions on direct examination are generally disfavored, and the secretary had no firsthand knowledge of the controlled call — the centerpiece of the prosecution’s corroboration. Her testimony would have added nothing of substance.
One of the more emotionally charged pieces of evidence came from the complainant and a physician’s assistant at Jacobi Hospital. Immediately after the encounter with C, the complainant ingested a large number of prescription pills — not as a suicide attempt, but because she was overwhelmed, upset, and “very sad.” She ended up hospitalized. The appellate court found this evidence relevant to show her lack of consent and her emotional state in the immediate aftermath. Even if the trial court had erred in admitting it, the appellate judges said, the rest of the evidence was so overwhelming that any mistake would have been harmless.
In the end, the appellate court’s decision was almost inevitable. The complainant’s testimony was detailed and consistent. The controlled call was damning. The defense’s objections were either unpreserved, unpersuasive, or both. And the trial judge’s rulings fell well within the bounds of discretion.
So the conviction stood. The narrative that emerged — of a doctor abusing his position, a patient reacting with shock and distress, and a jury that believed her — remained intact. The appellate court saw no reason to disturb it.
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