Dr. Jensen – Chapter 6
Preview from Ron and Bruno: Against the Doctatorship
Edwin left his bellhop cap and coat in my room, and we walked down the hall and out of the building. A few blocks and we were at the loading dock of the hospital. Edwin’s fiancée was waiting at an employee door beside the cargo door.
“Get in. Get in.” She said.
Then she rushed us down the hall and into a storage room.
“This is my fiancée, Bella.” Edwin said.
“So why are we here?” Bruno asked.
“This is the only door in the building without cameras.” Bella replied. “Here, get into this.”
She handed us some hospital gowns and masks.
“Now wait just a durn tootin minute.” Bruno objected. “What is all this stuff?”
“The hospital is on total lockdown. This is the only way you can gain entry.” She said.
“So this ain’t on the up and up?” Bruno said. “I’m all in! I’m sick of these lockdowns anyway.”
“Make sure to put on the gloves too.” She said.
“So this is gonna be a fight?” Bruno quipped.
Bella scolded. “Now let’s be serious, Bruno. Carmelita told me about you.”
“And what did she say, pray tell?”
Now Bella coyly smiled and said:
“Carmelita said she fanciesyou.”
“Now there, wha’d I tell you, old Ron. Camerlita fancies me. That’s all I needed to hear. Let’s suit up.”
“And put this on too.” Bella said, “Nobody will be able to recognize you. They’ll think you’re from the hazmat team.”
Bella handed us hazmat suits that looked like the gear firemen wear. Now Bruno objected.
“I ain’t a gettin into one of those contraptions.” He said.
“Is there another way?” I asked.
Bruno was claustrophobic, and anything that covered him so completely was out of the question.
“Oh, well yes.” She said. “The other way is to send the paper you want signed through a courier, then wait till it gets to the doctor’s desk. Then wait till he decides to sign it. Then wait till he sends it out. And by the way, this doctor you want to see, this Dr, Jensen, well, the courier service told me…”
Bruno was looking for anything that could keep him from putting on the hazmat suit, so he cut in.
“I see, the courier service told you. I thought you were our contact on the inside?”
“Oh, no.” Bella said. “I would never get the jab. Everyone on the inside has gotten the jab and some have died.”
“So are you’re telling me this is all guesswork? How are you gonna get us on the inside?” Bruno asked.
“My cousins provide food service here with their food truck.” She answered. “They’ve been providing temporary service for the Sortida and the hospital as well. I just load the carts that go into the cafeteria. Housekeeping rolls them in. My cousin Julio drives the food truck and my cousin Carmelita cooks.”
“Well, since you’re Camerlita’s cousin, and we’re all in this together. Okay, and gracias. I’ll just think of her when I’m under this shroud and it’ll get me through.” Bruno said.
“Carmelita will be delighted to hear how you say that.” Bella replied.
Bruno’s face was still glowing from hearing that Carmelita fancied him, and I could see his courage building back as Bella said that Carmelita would be delighted at his words. As the wise King Solomon said: The way of a man with a woman, who can understand?
Bruno had been a fireman for 44 years. He could have retired early but felt it his duty to fight fires as long as he could. Then the worst apartment fire he’d ever fought put him in the hospital for three months. He said wearing masks brought back memories of the screaming kids who couldn’t be saved. He still blamed himself. But if he’d stayed another moment, he would never have survived. Said he lost all his toes on one foot to burns. But I knew Bruno. It had to be way worse than that, for him to admit anything at all. Bruno didn’t like being treated special. He saw doing what’s right as doing what’s normal. The injury is what gave him his swagger. He wasn’t trying to act tough. He was tough.
We continued putting on every piece of equipment that Bella gave us. After almost 10 minutes, we were all suited up.
“Let’s go put out a fire!” Bruno exclaimed.
“Amen.” I said.
But Bella wasn’t through explaining how we’d get to the doctor’s office.
“You see how your suits have a patch that says, ‘Hazmat Security?’ You have authority to enter any part of the hospital. But there’s one more thing you’ll need.”
She handed each of us a hazmat materials bag. Mine contained an assortment of soft drinks and a cake with the words: Happy Birthday Princess Cassandra. Bruno’s contained his form for the doctor to sign.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s a distraction.” She said. “I overheard the couriers talking about the Charge Nurse on the 5th floor. Today’s her birthday and her husband is always sending her some kind of gift.”
“Old Ron, are you starting to hear the music for mission impossible?” Bruno said.
Bella cut in. “I know you’re anxious to get this over with, but there’s just one more thing. You’ll go through the first doors you come to after we leave this storage room. There’s an elevator just inside. Take it to the 5th floor. When you leave the elevator, go to the left. Then go through the double doors. That’s where you’ll see a small table for packages. It’s the only table when you come through the doors. Drop off the birthday treats there. Then walk straight past the nurses’ station to Dr. Jensen’s office. He’s all the way to the end of the hall.”
“Thanks for your help,” Bruno said. “I didn’t expect all this. It’s such a blessing.”
Yes, I thought to myself. Sneaking into a hospital in hazmat suits. What a blessing. But despite my sarcastic thoughts, I knew it was a blessing that Bruno and I didn’t have to go this alone.
“So how do you come by so much inside information.” Bruno asked Bella.
“Oh, I just stand out here. This is where all the staff takes their breaks. So many people in Seattle smoke now. It’s the only way we can remove our masks. I just use non-nicotine vapes. I hear everything that happens in this hospital.” Bella said.
“And I thought Filipinos held the record for gossiping.” Edwin objected.
“Who do you think I get the information from?” Bella said.
“Good to know we still hold the record.” Edwin replied.
“Okay, are we set to go?” I asked.
“One last detail.” Bella said. “You’ll need to know this more than anything else, how to get out. Just come back down the way you go in, but when you go out that door, the one you came in, you’ll crouch down before you open it, so that you can’t be seen above the food truck. Julio will be parked there waiting. Then crawl down the loading dock and go underneath the truck. It has a trap door. It’s for running out the hoses to recycle the stove oil. Climb through the trap door and into the truck. Then take off your hazmat suits. There will be some plastic garbage bags for you to put them in. My cousin Julio will be the driver. He’ll take you to your hotel just like he drives there every day. And that’s it. Easy as rolling out a tortilla.”
“Now you see, Ron? It’s as easy as rolling out a tortilla. Let’s roll.” Bruno beat me to the punchline.
Then Bruno put on the last accessory of his hazmat suit, the shroud. That’s what he called the head covering he once wore as a fireman. I could barely see him through the hazy plastic. For sure, nobody would be able to identify us.
“Oh, one more thing.” Bella said. “Dr. Jensen isn’t expecting you, but Hank’s been paying him to smuggle in relatives of patients. Hank said to just tell Dr. Jensen that Hank has a patient form to be signed and that Hank will cover the cost.”
I put on my shroud, and we all exited the storage room. What once would have been an impossible entry, was made easy, by the fear and submission that the CDC had conditioned into the public. Anyone in a hazmat suit was automatically given carte blanche. Before the CDC had seized control, we were able to easily see our loved ones. We only had to abide by visiting hours. But now, the CDC with its insidious mind control, had power over all but the most fervent people of faith. How else could you account for more than half the population poisoning themselves. It was, after all, gene therapy disguised as a vaccine. I hadn’t been inside a church since they’d begun to cover the images of God, our fellow humans, with masks. So much for people with fervent faith.
In the image of God created He him, male and female created He them.
I hoped I’d get to visit Diego’s secret church before returning to Arizona. Yeah, I have a habit of thinking of everything but the task at hand when the stress gets high. But I set my mind back on our task, getting the signature Bruno needed.
Bruno and I waddled through the first door. Then I pushed the elevator button. Bruno looked at me like he used to on the Fourth of July, just before he’d light off a quarter stick of dynamite. I enjoyed fireworks, but to risk my hand? Not a chance. But Bruno was a risk-taker. And he ratcheted up his risk taking when he became a firefighter. I couldn’t imagine the nightmare of running into a burning building, but to Bruno, it was a sweet dream. It takes someone special, with guts, and a lifetime dream of becoming a firefighter. Yes, Bruno was more than bluster. He was exactly what Carmelita said he was, and then some. He was brutish like an animal when it came to saving the lives of those who couldn’t save themselves. His faith was primal, and it was strong. How else could you run into a burning building? His was the kind of faith few of us will ever know.
The elevator door opened, and Bruno and I stepped in. I pushed the button for the 5th floor. The elevator inched its way up, then the doors burst open. Not really, but that’s how my gut felt. I’d never trespassed before, at least not as an adult. We turned left and went through the doors. Bruno stood still for a moment between me and the nurses’ station as I put the cake and soft drinks on the table. Next, we walked past the nurses’ station. Then one of the nurses screamed. I about jumped out of my hazmat suit. She’d found the cake and soft drinks.
“Casandra! Casandra.” She said. “Your Don Juan husband has left you a cake and soft drinks!”
A nurse’s aide asked Casandra, “Are you really a princess? It says you’re a princess on your cake.”
“Well, of course.” Casandra said. “My father didn’t approve of my marriage and so he banished me from our kingdom. Ever since, I’ve been telling my husband that he must make up for all the treasures I left behind.”
“And has he?” The aide asked.
“I’m not sure.” Casandra said. “I’ll find out when I get home. He’s got a lot of dishes to wash, laundry to do, diapers to change and clothes to iron.”
Then she cackled more like a witch than a princess. In unison, they cackled too. Did they have a choice? She was the charge nurse.
As Casandra and the other nurses enjoyed their cake and soft drinks, Bruno and I kept walking down the hall. The last door would be Dr. Jensen’s. Just a few more steps and… the door was open.
“I’ve been expecting you.” Dr. Jensen said. “Come in, come in, and shut the door behind you.”
Maybe Hank did get a chance to tell him we were coming. Dr. Jensen paced in front of the window behind a mahogany desk. It had a protective glass top and underneath there were greeting cards from past years. One was signed, Dr. Tony Fauci. Another was signed Dr. Deborah Birx. There were a few from Congressman This or That and a signed letter on the wall from a governor. This guy was connected, unless it was all puff, just phonied up stuff to make him look important. But if they were real, why was he here? And why would this guy take the time to see a couple of unknowns like us?
Dr. Jensen was pacing back and forth with his million-dollar view of Puget Sound behind him. He had one of the windows wide open, enjoying the rare Seattle sun. Seattle was having an Indian Summer, that’s what locals call the spate of warm weather that arrives just after the kids get back in school. I remember as a kid, there’d be no sunlight for the entire summer and then finally, after we were back in school, the sun would come out. They used to say it was an Indian curse on the children of settlers. Probably just a story made up by one of the teachers.
“Ah, beautiful day.” Dr. Jensen said. “And to make it even better, I’ve got visitors. So, what have you got for me?”
He was in an awfully good mood for someone being met by complete strangers. I wondered what Hank must be paying to get relatives in to see patients.
“So, what have you got for me?” Dr. Jensen repeated.
Bruno held out the form.
“What’s that?” He asked.
“Mr. um…” Bruno couldn’t remember Hank’s last name.
“C’mon, speak up!” Dr. Jensen spoke gruffly.
Oops. One of the othersjust spoke crossly to Bruno. That’s what Bruno called anyone who didn’t know him well enough to verbally joust with him. But amazingly, Bruno kept his cool. Then he remembered the name.
“Excuse me there, Dr. Jensen. Hank, er, Captain Henry, sent us with this form for you to sign. Nothing special. If you’ll just sign here, we’ll get out of your way.”
“A form!” Dr. Jensen bristled. “A form is all you got. That does it. Tell Hank,or whatever his real name is, unless I get cash, I’m not signing anything else. I thought you two jokers were from the new vax company. They’re bringing cold cash. You think we’d push clot shots without getting paid?”
Bruno maintained his composure. He’d clearly set his mind on completing our task.
Dr. Jensen was still pacing in front of the open window to enjoy the sunshine of an Indian Summer.
“You see that Mercedes?” He said, pointing out the window. “That used to be mine. Now it’s my wife’s. She didn’t even have the decency to divorce me. She filed for separation. And when I objected to the amount of alimony? She requested my bank records. Now, I can’t have her or anyone else snooping around my financial transactions, can I? So, I’m here, a really nice guy. And I’m just stuck. So, pardon me, fellas, if I’m not in the best of spirits.”
Bruno was still determined to get his form signed so he made an offer.
“What say you, Doc, if next time, we bring cash. Sounds like Hank owes you and we have experience in collecting debts, if you know what I mean. Hank needs to learn a lesson in honesty and who better to teach him than me and my buddy here. We just got out of the joint and we learned a lot about how to make a man honest.”
Dr. Jensen had been listening while polishing his shoes with his electric shoe buffer, one of those fancy ones that has a button on the top of a long handle, the kind you can use while standing up. He let go of the button on the handle, and said,
“I like you. Yeah, let’s do business. But I gotta get you guys outta here. The two hazmat Harrys that I mistook you for are coming soon. They’re with… well, we don’t need to name names, but he doesn’t like competition. But with you two onboard, it looks like I might be able to double my take. Hand me the form.”
Bruno held out the form to him. Comorbidities was written in big letters across the top, followed by Bruno’s mom’s name and her patient information. It was an affirmation that she died from Covid, not comorbidities. If Dr. Jensen signed it, the Feds would reimburse Bruno for the cost of his mom’s burial. It’s the least they could do, considering it was their policies that killed her.
“So, this is for, wait a minute now.” Dr. Jensen paused. “This is for Emma Hartman? You, you’re Bruno Hartman?”
“And you’re that damn doctor that kept me from seeing her on her death bed! I didn’t recognize you in street clothes. Sign the damn form!”
The only thing that prevented Bruno’s roar from being heard down at the nurses’ station was their partying, and the hazmat suit that muffled his voice.
Dr. Jensen reached for the form to sign it. But he’d lost his balance. He steadied himself on the handle of his shoe buffer. Then he slipped again, this time stepping on the buffer. He gripped the handle even tighter. Wheeze, the motor maxed out. His foot shot out from under him. He reached out to grab onto Bruno, but it was too late. His hand caught hold of the top of the form ripping off a piece of it as he fell out the window. Bruno and I ran to the window to see what had become of Dr. Jensen. He lay sprawled on top of a truck in the alley, still gripping the piece of paper he’d ripped off Bruno’s form.
“Not to make light of what just happened,” I said, “but we don’t wanna be blamed for an accident we didn’t cause. Dr. Jensen’s gripping a piece your form in his hand. What does he have?”
“Dr. Jensen’s got comorbidities.”
“Well, that’s good. If he doesn’t make it, we can’t be blamed.”
“Neither can Covid.” Bruno chuckled.
“Is that our food truck down there?” I asked.
“Looks like it.” Bruno replied.
“Well, we better get outta here.” I said.
Bruno put what was left of the form in one of our hazmat bags then we walked out the door. As we passed the nurses’ station, they were still partying. We walked through the exit that led to the elevator and I pushed the down button. When the elevator doors opened, the two Harrys in hazmats were standing there, the ones that Dr. Jensen had been expecting. Bruno and I acted instinctively, blocking their exit till we were both out of view of the corridor cameras. This was too easy. Now the nurses would think they were us, going back to get something we’d forgotten.
When the elevator doors closed, I hit the 1st floor button.
“Bruno?” I said.
“Yes, old Ron? He answered.
“In my life, Bruno, I’ve never met anyone so corrupt as Dr. Jensen. Then like a villain in an old black and white movie, he was gone. I wonder if those two will see Dr. Jensen.”
“They’re a bit late.” Bruno said.
“So is Dr. Jensen.” I replied.
My joke about a dead man was deliberate. I was still in shock at how corrupt Dr. Jensen was, and how unafraid he was to tell us. As the slow freight elevator descended, Bruno and I laughed. It was a laugh I wouldn’t want to repeat, full of anger, sadness and pain. I’d seen men die violent deaths, but never a man so worthy of the penalty. Dr. Jensen had mandated clot shots for payoffs. Other very well-known people had done the same, profiting from death. They even recommended it for babies, just to make a buck. Even so, to laugh about a man’s death was something I’d never done. And I hoped I wouldn’t repeat it.
I knew it was too late for Dr. Jensen, but I could never stop praying that the wicked would repent. Nineveh repented on hearing the message of one man, Jonah. But could those responsible for the Covid reign of terror ever repent? If they could, like the criminal on the cross who was crucified next to Jesus, they still had to pay the penalty in this life for their crimes in this life.
By the time the elevator doors opened, we were ready. We ran to the exit, crouched down, opened the door, and crawled across the loading dock. Then Bruno and I slid under the food truck and went up through the trap door. A man was sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Julio?” I asked.
“That’s me.” He said. “Quick, get out of those hazmats and put them in the hazmat bags. Then put the hazmat bags into these garbage bags.”
Bruno grabbed his form from his hazmat bag and held it over the gas burner, lighting it.
“Hang on, hang on. Everything nice and orderly.” He said.
It took about 10 seconds, but it seemed like minutes. When he was finished, he scooped up the ashes and threw them into the grease vat. Then we used spatulas to push the garbage bags containing our hazmats down into the black grease.
Julio was nervously rocking in his seat. I could tell he hadn’t grown up a juvenile delinquent like Bruno and me. Finally, he couldn’t hold back.
“I heard a thud like a sandbag landing on top of my truck. I didn’t get out since I knew you could be here at any moment. What’s going on?”
Bruno got a look on his face that I’d never seen before. Then he commanded us.
“Julio, you don’t wanna know anything and you don’t know anything. Got it?”
“Yes, I got it. Bruno.”
Then Bruno said to me:
“You’re gonna run halfway up that driveway, then you’re gonna turn around and keep your eyes on this truck. If anyone asks questions, don’t answer.”
I got out of the truck and ran up the driveway. By the time I turned around, Bruno had climbed onto the roof. He was already administering CPR to Dr. Jensen.
Just then, the two Harrys in hazmats burst out of the building and ran to a car that was parked in the driveway, leaving a trail of hundred-dollar bills behind them. They turned around to look but were too panicked to stop and pick up the cash. Then they jumped in their car still wearing their hazmats. As they scrambled to find the keys, two cop cars boxed them in. Once the officers had them cuffed, they cut them out of their suits with shears borrowed from the medics who were already on the scene.
The medics were the reason cops were there. Seattle was a dangerous city. At the hands of the homeless, Seattle medics and firefighters averaged 10 assaults against them per month. So, when cops heard an aid car, they followed, to serve and protect. It’s beautiful when it happens. And it happens every day in every city.
Bruno had by now revived Dr. Jensen and was waiting for the medics to get him down from the roof of Julio’s food truck. Dr. Jensen looked up to the window he’d fallen from, then down at the cash strewn in the driveway. I don’t know if his groans were more from injuries, or from seeing all his cold cash strewn in the driveway.
By now, a TV crew had arrived and had their cameras pointed at their on-site reporter. She was describing the scene when one of the medics who’d just arrived yelled up to Bruno.
“Is that you, Bruno? I haven’t seen you since the 4-alarm fire. Still saving lives, I see.”
“Yeah, yeah, get this guy outta here. He fractured his ribs but he’s breathing now.”
“How’d you get him up there?” The medic quipped.
“Har har.” Bruno replied. “You remember what we do with wise guys, don’t you?”
“Yep, clean up. But with all these hundred-dollar bills lying around, I won’t mind cleaning up after we’re through here. But no joke, Bruno, how’d that guy end up on top of a… food truck?”
“I guess he was hungry.” Bruno said.
Then we all laughed, including the TV crew and reporter.
“And another thing,” the medic asked, “how come we got a message from your mom’s emergency clicker, and it pinpointed her right here in the driveway.”
“Emma won’t be needing it anymore. She won’t be having any more emergencies.” Bruno said.
“Sorry to hear that, Bruno. I mean, you know what I mean.”
“Well, good to know these things actually work.” Bruno said. “I figured it was the quickest way to get you guys here.”
I wondered if Bruno was thinking the same thing I was. The device meant to save the life of his mother, was used instead to save the life of the man most responsible for her death.
The camera crew was scrambling to broadcast what had just taken place. I could see one of them jamming the thumb drive he’d just pulled from the camera into a broadcast terminal inside their van. This was the kind of human-interest story that every reporter longed for: a real-life John Wayne. An anchor was already introducing: Breaking News, then the reporter showed up complete with intro, which quickly cut to Bruno. He was the star. They got everything on tape. Then they cut to an “exclusive” interview. It was obviously recorded right after the 4-alarm fire with one of the firemen who’d seen Bruno’s heroics. I wondered why they’d buried it till now. Bruno saved 17 lives in that fire, but he’d never talked about it. All he said was that wearing a mask reminded him of the screaming voices of those he didn’t save. The fireman described the 4-alarm fire as if he’d seen a ghost.
“The fire was chasing Bruno. It was hideous. The flames rose like fiery whips. I’d never seen anything looked like that, and I’ve handled the pumper truck for 30 years. But Bruno’s been running into burning buildings since I was in grade school. And at 66, he’s still running into them. There’s nobody better. I don’t think the devil likes it, and I think the devil was in the building during that 4-alarm fire.”
Now the station cut to another interview. He continued where the first fireman left off.
“Each time Bruno went in one door, he had to come out another. The flames seemed to chase him, but he kept outrunning them. He’d come out with two or three kids and then run in for more. I heard it was a drop house for human traffickers. But Bruno got all the kids out, all 17 of them.”
Did I just hear all 17? Then why did Bruno think there were kids left behind? What happened to him in that hospital that made him think he’d abandoned children? And why was an obvious hero so isolated? I wonder if his burns would have healed more quickly, if only he’d had the moral support of those who knew him. The nurses wouldn’t allow any of us in to see him during his nearly three months in the hospital. They wouldn’t even allow his mother to visit. And it wasn’t because of his burns. It was because of the lockdowns. Worse yet, the nurses treated him like a criminal for refusing to comply with the covid tyranny. He refused to wear a mask. So, they isolated him even more.
It would be easy in that isolation to dwell on regrets, and to think your own sins were the cause of your situation. But Bruno had gotten all the kids out. What regrets could there be? And why didn’t anyone tell him that he’d saved them all?
The medics had lowered Dr. Jensen to the driveway by now and were loading him into the back of an ambulance. But before they shut the door, I heard the driver say:
“You’re lucky Dr. Jensen. In less than two minutes we’ll be pulling into your own ER.”
“Not my ER!” He said. “Not mine! Take me to Swedish!”
“Sorry Doc. We can only take you where we’re dispatched. We can’t remain here. The cops want us to clear the area. Just let me get you over to ER and you can change your destination there. We’re less than a minute away.”
Before the doctor could object again, the driver took off. The reporter heard the same fear in Dr. Jensen’s voice that I heard, and she and her crew took off just as quickly to chase the ambulance.
“I’ve got to see this!” Bruno said.
“Me too!” I said.
We ran around the corner to the hospital ER where the ambulance had pulled in. By now, another reporter was on the scene, competing for a chance to ask Dr. Jensen what had happened.
“Dr. Jensen. Dr. Jensen.” Both reporters vied for a response.
One of the two nurses who’d come out to admit Dr. Jensen intervened.
“I’m sorry, Jessica, Brad. All of us here at the hospital love your Covid reporting but we’re on full lockdown. You’ll have to forward your questions in writing. Or we can do a Zoom call later. Dr. Jensen will be in the hospital for at least 10 days per admission guidelines.”
“I’m, I’m not even checked in.” Dr. Jensen objected.
“Is Dr. Jensen checked in, Anne?” She asked the other nurse.
“Yes, Casandra. I scanned the patient code on his wrist.”
“Thank you, Anne.” She said.
“Don’t roll me in here, Casandra!” Dr. Jensen objected.
“Now what did the recent memo say about unruly patients, Anne?”
Anne replied. “‘Upon scanning patient code, if patient history doesn’t indicate drug interactions, sedate the patient from the approved list of medications.’ Cassandra, his history indicates no drug interactions whatsoever. He’s not on any meds. In fact, he’s not even vaccinated.”
“Not vaccinated?” Cassandra said, “Well, alright then, Anne. Sedate Dr. Jensen, then segregate him with the anti-vaxers.”
Then Cassandra walked back into the hospital while Anne verified some information with the ambulance medic.
“I see you’ve already got an IV inserted into Dr. Jensen. Was his blood pressure low?”
“It was low just after resuscitation. But it’s fine now.” The medic answered.
Anne turned back to Dr. Jensen.
“Okay. Dr. Jensen, follow the doctor’s orders.” She said.
“What orders? What are you talking about?” Dr. Jensen said.
“Let’s see, let me read this memo. Whose signature is that? Can you read that, Dr. Jensen?”
Anne showed him the memo.
“Well, yes, that’s… that’s my signature, but…” He objected.
“You know, Dr. Jensen. I’m not much for quoting the Bible, but I know this one. ‘Physician, heal thyself.’”
Then Anne inserted the syringe containing the sedative into the injection port of Dr. Jensen’s IV solution bag.
The poetic justice of Dr. Jensen being involuntarily admitted to his own hospital wasn’t lost on us. Nor was it lost on the TV crews who had their cameras aimed the whole time. And even if the Covid censors cut it out, it would be archived and brought out later, just like the two witnesses to Bruno’s heroics.
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