Word: doctor
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...result, after a series of visits by smoothly operating Detective Herbert ("The Count") Hannam, was the arrest of kindly Dr. Adams. Last week, in a preliminary court hearing to determine whether the doctor should stand trial for murder, a prosecutor for the Crown declared in so many blunt words that Mrs. Morrell had not died of cerebral thrombosis, but "because she was poisoned by drugs which Dr. Adams administered...
...Mortem Post-Mortem. "Easing the passing of a dying person is not all that wicked," the doctor, according to police, had said at his arrest. "She wanted to die." But in making his case against the owlish physician, who sat quietly in dock making notes for his own lawyer on a pad, Prosecutor Melford Stevenson got permission from the presiding magistrate "to deal with the deaths of two other patients of Dr. Adams who died in circumstances which the Crown says exhibit similarity to the death of Mrs. Morrell." These two were wealthy Alfred John Hul-lett...
...check she had made out to him for ?1,000 and asked to have it cleared in a hurry. Why had he done this? "We say," said the prosecution, "that it was because Dr. Adams knew quite well that Mrs. Hullett was going to die that weekend." Furthermore, the doctor had requested a post-mortem on his patient even before she died. The postmortem, when it was made, established the fact that Mrs. Hullett died of an overdose of barbiturates, but even though a coroner's inquest called it suicide, the Crown insisted last week that "the circumstances amount...
...strewn lobbies of Eastbourne's hotels, aged widows gossiped and fingered their heavily insured necklaces, and retired colonels humphed over the bad news from Egypt. But topic No. i was something none of their newspapers could say under Britain's strict libel and contempt laws: that the doctor may also have quickened the deaths of a dozen or more other Eastbourne patients...
...recently published volume of euphoria titled The Happy Life of a Doctor, Boston's Dr. Roger I. Lee, 75, past president of the A.M.A., propounded the happy thought that a fat man loves all the world. Wrote the portly doctor, whose own weight is "top secret" (estimate: over 275 Ibs.): "I do not mind being jumped upon by some hideous . . . painted Jezebel who shrilly proclaims that her weight is perfect and who looks upon my rotund figure with abhorrence . . . What one can see of her under the .mask of chemical cosmetics seems muddy . . . Her skin is wrinkled . . . neck...