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Drug giant accused of false
claims
http://www.msnbc.com/news/937302.asp?cp1=1 |
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Whistleblower alleges illegal
encouragement of off-label use |
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Scientist David Franklin says he
became part of a broad mission
at pharmaceutical company
Warner-Lambert to deceive, even
entice doctors to prescribe
drugs to patients whether it was
scientifically justified or not.
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NBC NEWS |
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July 11 — The
questions began with the
confession of an insider at one
of the nation’s largest
pharmaceutical firms. He says
his former company deliberately
distorted information about one
of its drugs, possibly putting
lives at risk, and costing
patients and taxpayers millions
of dollars. “Dateline” went
looking for some answers and has
the results of a year-long
investigation into what may be
one of the biggest medical
deceptions in history. NBC’s
John Hockenberry reports. |
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DAVID FRANKLIN: “I was
trained to deceive, to lie to doctors.”
John Hockenberry: “So
these doctors were completely misled?”
Franklin: “Absolutely.”
Who would train and then pay
someone to mislead doctors? Scientist
David Franklin says pharmaceutical
company Warner-Lambert paid him to do
that back in 1996.
Franklin: “It was my
responsibility to leverage the trust
that physicians had with pharmaceutical
companies to corrupt the relationship
between the physician and the patient.”
John Hockenberry: “Your
job was to find trust, and exploit it,
to produce more sales for
Warner-Lambert.”
Franklin: “Absolutely.”
Since he was a little boy growing
up in Rhode Island, Franklin says, he
wanted to be a scientist. But he wanted
to use that science to help people,
doing medical research to cure disease.
So Franklin got his Ph.D. in biology at
the University of Rhode Island and from
there became a researcher at the
prestigious Dana Farber Cancer
Institute. After more than three years
as a researcher, Franklin wanted to get
out of the lab. He found a job at
Parke-Davis, a division of
Warner-Lambert. He would be a medical
liaison, using his scientific expertise
to explain the scientific merits of
drugs to doctors.
Franklin: “The medical
liaison was supposed to be fair and
balanced, where the physician could
trust what the medical liaison was
telling them.”
Hockenberry: “So, doctors
wouldn’t necessarily see you as a
company guy, as much as they would see
you as a scientist. As as a medical
doctor, like them in a way.”
Franklin: “Exactly. A
person whose primary responsibility is
to care of the patients, making sure
that the doctor, to enable the doctor to
practice the best possible medicine that
science would allow at this point in
time.”
Hockenberry: “So, a doctor
needs more drugs for their practice.
They call the salesman. But if they have
questions about the medical use of that
drug, they call you.”
Franklin: “Exactly.”
But almost immediately, Franklin
says, he became little more than a
salesman. The job he thought would be
about caring for people turned out to be
little more than caring for the
company’s bottom line. With his Ph.D.
and the title of doctor, Franklin says
he became part of a broad mission to
deceive, even entice doctors to
prescribe drugs to patients whether it
was scientifically justified or not.
Franklin: “It was a matter
of leveraging, corrupting, if you would,
perverting the science, to greatly
increase sales and profitability.”
This corporate whistleblower,
telling his story to “Dateline” in his
first broadcast interview, has rocked
the pharmaceutical industry to its core.
Pieced together with confidential
documents and taped voicemails, you’ll
see a portrait of sales over science.
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But mostly this is the story of
how David Franklin helped one little
drug become a star: Gabapentin, one of
the drugs Franklin was responsible for,
which goes by the brand name Neurontin.
Neurontin is a useful and generally safe
drug. The Food and Drug Administration
approved it in 1993, but for only one
use — to help control epileptic seizures
and only if taken in conjunction with
another drug.
But Franklin says he soon learned
that Warner-Lambert had plans for
Neurontin, the little epilepsy drug, a
plan to go directly to doctors and get
them to prescribe Neurontin for all
kinds of uses the FDA hadn’t approved,
called “off-label” uses.
Hockenberry:
“Warner-Lambert basically told you, ‘The
FDA says, scientifically, Neurontin
treats epilepsy. But we can convince
doctors. And here’s how you’ll do it, to
use Neurontin for a dozen other things.”
Franklin: “Absolutely.
This was holding their hands and pushing
them into to using Neurontin off-label.”
And according to Franklin, the
list of off-label uses was long,
everything from attention deficit
disorder to alcohol and drug withdrawal.
Now, off-label uses are nothing
new. Doctors have been observing
surprising new uses for drugs throughout
history. Some of their discoveries
become medical breakthroughs. One of the
best-known examples is aspirin, once
thought only good for pain, was found by
doctors to increase blood circulation
and prevent heart attacks.
Hockenberry: “So it’s
legal for doctors to say, ‘You know
what? I think this drug that is approved
for your ear might be good for your
throat.’”
Franklin: “Not only is it
legal, but it’s good medical practice.”
But what is not legal is for a
drug company to promote such unapproved,
off-label uses or to exaggerate or
report unproven breakthroughs to doctors
as a way to get them to prescribe their
drugs. Assistant U.S. Attorney Jim
Sheehan, one of the country’s leading
prosecutors of health care fraud, says
such regulation exists because off-label
use can be unsafe.
Sheehan: “Every
prescription drug is an inherently
dangerous product with the potential to
kill people as well as cure them. That’s
why we have very strict regulation,
that’s why we have rules about what
marketing and promotion they can do.
That’s why we have rules about what they
can produce and how they produce it.”
Franklin says the rules went out
the window from the moment he arrived on
the job. For instance, he was told not
simply to wait for doctors to ask him
for his scientific opinions, but to
instead target doctors and convince them
to prescribe Neurontin, even though he
knew that there was no FDA approval for
its off-label uses.
Franklin says he was actually
“cold calling” doctors, showing up like
a salesman unannounced, and he found one
thing about him opened a lot of doors.
Franklin: “If I were to
show up at a doctor’s office and say,
‘Dr. Franklin is here to speak to Dr.
Smith,’ Dr. Smith is much more likely to
respond, as opposed to his receptionist
calling him in his office, and saying,
‘The Warner-Lambert sales rep is here to
talk to you.’”
Franklin didn’t say that he
wasn’t a medical doctor. Simply having
the title of doctor, the Ph.D. he was so
proud of, was all that mattered,
Franklin says, and Dr. Franklin, it
turns out, wore lots of hats, depending
on whom he was visiting.
Hockenberry: “So, you
could have had a Ph.D. in economics or
metallurgy, and it would have been just
as fine?”
Franklin: “As long as it
granted me the title of Dr. Franklin.”
Hockenberry: “What were
you told to tell doctors about your
background?”
Franklin: “We actually
trained the sales representatives to
introduce me as an expert in
cardiovascular medicine.”
Hockenberry: “Were you?”
Franklin: “Absolutely not.
My Ph.D. was in microbiology. At 9 in
the morning I was an expert in
cardiovascular medicine. At 10 when we
walked across the street to a
neurologist office, I was an expert in
neurology.” |
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And once inside, Franklin
would make his pitch to the doctor. As I
played the doctor’s part — he showed me
what he would say about Neurontin.
Franklin: “We’re really
being inundated with information from
across the country with physicians that
are seeing a profound improvement in
patients with bipolar disease ... so we
would suggest that you titrate the
patient up to 4,800 milligrams — you
will see marked improvement in their
symptoms.”
Hockenberry: “So your
suggestion to me is triple the dose and
I might see some positive results.”
Franklin: “Absolutely.
It’s not a matter of might. You will see
an improvement.”
He’s a scientist who couldn’t
sound more certain. But is there any
scientific validity to what he is saying
about, for instance, bipolar disorder?
Franklin: “None at all.
And in fact, much of it is a
fabrication. It is simply untrue.”
Hockenberry: “Was there
any data that really supported the
claims you were making?”
Franklin: “Not at all.”
At best the claims were based on
promising anecdotal and untested
preliminary information that Franklin
says was, promoted to doctors
vigorously, directly and illegally.
Franklin: “Not only is it
illegal, it’s downright immoral. It
doesn’t just hurt the medical community,
it has the potential of hurting
patients.”
But as you’ll see, there was
nothing potential about the money to be
made through these tactics. The billions
to come were real ... as real as the
patients whose stories are just
beginning to emerge. Was their health
compromised in a scientifically invalid
campaign to raise sales of Neurontin?
A PATIENT’S PERSPECTIVE
By the late spring of 1996,
Franklin understood fully what he was
doing in supplying misleading
information to doctors about the drug
Neurontin. What he didn’t know, he says,
was the effect on real patients. It’s a
knot in his stomach that’s still there
today.
Franklin: “There hasn’t
been a day in six years that I haven’t
thought about this and wrestled with my
involvement in it.”
Long after David Franklin began
to have his first reservations about his
job, 54-year-old Regina Adams got her
own education about off-label uses of
Neurontin.
Adams: “My whole life was
turned upside down, and I almost lost my
life because of it.”
Adams has bipolar disorder.
Hockenberry: “When were
you first diagnosed with a condition
that might require ongoing use of
pharmaceutical drugs?”
Adams: “About 11 years
ago.”
Hockenberry: “And the
symptoms you were exhibiting were?”
Adams: “Mania, mostly
mania. Because I had just lost touch
with reality.”
Bipolar disorder occurs when the
brain constantly cycles between mania
and depression. Those who suffer from it
can experience uncontrollable highs and
lows.
Before she found a reliable
treatment the disease played havoc with
Adams’ life. She divorced and was in and
out of hospitals. Doctors finally found
a therapy that seemed to work, a drug
called Depakote, FDA-approved for
bipolar disorder.
Adams: “That worked really
well, worked for my head. But the side
effect was weight gain.”
Hockenberry: “Weight gain?”
Adams: “I gained 100
pounds.”
Adams wanted the benefits of
Depakote without all the weight, so she
asked her doctor for a different drug.
The doctor recommended Neurontin At
first Adams felt better and lost weight,
but soon after things started to come
apart.
Adams: “I became more and
more out of control. My whole personally
— I’m very a sweet, nice person. And I
got hostile.”
Hockenberry: “Had you ever
behaved like this before?”
Adams: “No. No. My
ex-boyfriend said he had never seen me,
when I was manic, act like this.”
Adams went back to her doctor for
help.
Adams: “She just kept
increasing the Neurontin. I didn’t want
to go any higher. I didn’t want to get
harmed from it.”
Hockenberry: “And your
doctor’s response was, Increase the
dosage.’”
Adams: “Mm-hm.”
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Was there a risk? Adams’ dosage
was tripled. Neurontin is known to have
few if any side effects, one of its big
selling points. But Neurontin was now
Adams’ only treatment for bipolar
disorder, which was very risky because
Neurontin, it turns out, does
essentially nothing for bipolar disorder
— and that’s a scientific fact.
Dr. Gary Sachs:
“Neurontin’s a drug that has been
studied under double-blind conditions
twice. And in neither case did it prove
to have any efficacy at all.”
Hockenberry: “In neither
case?”
Sachs: “In neither case.”
Dr. Gary Sachs runs the Bipolar
Treatment Center at Massachusetts
General Hospital.
Hockenberry: “So, based on
the science, someone with bipolar who’s
only taking Neurontin is essentially
untreated.”
Sachs: “I think that’s a
fair assumption.”
And for a bipolar patient like
Adams, being untreated can be
life-threatening. On Neurontin, Adams’
manic behavior became uncontrollable.
She says she tried to kill herself. She
ended up in the hospital.
Hockenberry: “If your
doctor gives you something, your
assumption is that it works, and that
somebody’s shown that it works, right?”
Adams: “Right.”
Hockenberry: “In the case
of Neurontin, was any of that true?”
Adams: “Not for me.”
We tried to talk to Adams’ doctor
at Meridian Behavioral Healthcare in
Gainesville, Fla. — and Adams said she
had no problem allowing us see her
medical records. But the company refused
our request, issuing only a statement
from her doctor acknowledging that Adams
was treated with Neurontin but that the
drug was discontinued when she
“experienced a manic episode.”
Adams is back on her old
medication and doing fine.
Hockenberry: “What do you
have to say to the drug company that
might have been very interested in
doctors’ prescribing their medication?”
Adams: “I think that
they’re greedy, and they just are after
money. And they don’t really care about
the person who takes the medicine,
obviously.”
David Franklin says he was
surprised how easy it was for him to get
doctors to switch to Neurontin or to
raise dosages.
Hockenberry: “And would
they do it?”
Franklin: “It’s remarkable
the high percentage of physicians that
would do this.”
Hockenberry: “How did you
feel?”
Franklin: “I would leave a
physician’s office in pain. There was no
other way of describing it. This is — I
was in — a combination of embarrassed by
what I had just done, felt
responsibility to the patient, to the
doctor and the patient, that I had just
misled this individual. And that some
third party that wasn’t even in the
room, some patient, may actually be
impacted by it.”
Parke-Davis’ own internal
documents obtained by “Dateline” show
the company couldn’t have been more
excited about: “new indications for
Neurontin,” especially for people like
Adams with bipolar disorder: “Bipolar
disorders offer the greatest expected
return on investment ... as much as $55
million.”
Even though the 1995 memo later
states “there is no pre-clinical
evidence of efficacy in bipolar
disorders.” In other words, no real
scientific evidence that it would work.
Franklin says the company’s enthusiasm
about off-label prescriptions translated
into real pressure on the job —
pressure, he says, to sell.
Franklin: “I was pressured
to fill the gap that the sales team, the
actual sales representatives weren’t
filling. That the sales representatives
weren’t as effective as medical
liaisons. And that we had to, I think
the quote was, to take the ball and run
with it.”
And Franklin let “Dateline”
experience this sales pressure just as
he did, through this recorded voicemail
from his boss.
“You know there’s a Neurontin
push that’s supposed to be on.... So
what we need to do is focus on
Neurontin, when we get out there - we
want to kick some ass on Neurontin - we
want to sell Neurontin on pain all
right? And monotherapy...I don’t know if
you guys are embarrassed, but I’m
embarrassed with where we are with
Neurontin.”
Franklin saved this voicemail
because he could barely believe what his
boss was saying: sell Neurontin
expressly for uses not approved by the
FDA. Franklin was frightened. What he
was being asked to do, he believed, was
illegal. So he began to tape more
conversations and messages from company
officials. Here’s a quote from a senior
Warner-Lambert executive on a conference
call:
“I want you out there every
day selling Neurontin... holding their
hand, whispering in their ear —
Neurontin for pain, Neurontin for
monotherapy, Neurontin for bipolar,
Neurontin for everything.... I don’t
want to see a single patient coming off
Neurontin before they’ve been up to at
least 4,800 milligrams a day.”
And then he said this:
“I don’t want to hear
that safety crap either.... It’s a great
drug”
We showed Assistant U.S.
Attorney Jim Sheehan that colorful
quote.
Sheehan: “It would seem to
me that’s a pretty clear advocacy for
off-label use by the company. And
therefore a violation of the FDA’s
rules.”
Hockenberry: “You know, I
don’t know if I’d use the word advocacy.
I might use, like, threat.”
Sheehan: “When I look at
this, Neurontin not for pain, not an
on-label use, Neurontin for bipolar, not
approved, no application for that
either. Neurontin for everything, well,
that’s pretty obvious.”
And company sales people got to
make this pitch right in the inner
sanctum of doctors’ offices. Franklin
would tell doctors they could get paid
to let company sales reps go over
patient medical records and to actually
be there in the examining room while
patients were being treated.
Franklin: “If you are
willing to allow a sales representative
to spend a day with you as you see
patients, we’ll compensate you for that.
We’ll pay you for it.”
This is a voicemail Franklin
recorded, in which a salesman boasts
about his success after a day spent with
a doctor and his patients:
“The doctor would review the
chart of each patient with me in a
one-on-one fashion. Then we would go
meet the patient, the patient would be
examined. I saw the actual prescription
generated in front of me... that was
certainly nice. I certainly felt that me
being there, I had some influence on
that medical decision.”
Medical decisions that were
very good business. From its
introduction in 1993, Neurontin the
little epilepsy drug, has rocketed to
the top of the sales charts. Today it’s
a more than $2 billion drug, outselling
even blockbuster Viagra, and more than
three-quarters of Neurontin’s sales, by
the parent company’s own estimate, are
from off-label uses.
But Franklin was having serious
doubts about the safety of off-label
use, about his job and about what kind
of legal trouble he might be in. He
would not make it through his first year
at Parke-Davis. In the summer of 1996,
he decided he’d had enough.
GOING PUBLIC
By the early summer of 1996,
after four months working as a medical
liaison for Warner-Lambert, David
Franklin began to realize it was time to
get out. He believed what he was doing
was wrong and feared what would happen
if he stayed.
Franklin: “I knew that in
the period of time that I had been
there, my own personal behavior was
illegal, that I had done things that
were simply illegal.”
His biggest worry was that he was
aiding and abetting a medical fraud. The
scientist who reluctantly became a
salesman now wondered if he had what it
took to blow the whistle on a drug
company worth billions.
Franklin: ”“Either I
needed to own up to this now and put it
behind me, or at some point in the
future, this could come back, and I’d
find myself on the wrong side of this
investigation. I did believe, when I
left, that they were so aggressively
ramping this up, that at some point,
someone would expose what was going on
there. And therefore, I would find
myself in the equally, or even more
difficult, position of trying to explain
why I ignored an obvious illegal and
immoral activity within the company.”
So on July 29, he drove to a
co-worker’s home, dropped off his office
keys and company car and turned his back
on Parke-Davis for good. Next stop?
Greene and Hoffman attorneys at law.
Franklin: “I showed up to
their office saying, I’ve— I’m in
trouble. And I need some help out of
this.”
Franklin filed a lawsuit against
Warner-Lambert and its Parke-Davis
division charging the company with
violations of the U.S. False Claims Act.
He says he was not motivated by the fact
that he stands to be in line for a
percentage of the damages if the company
loses or if it settles out of court.
Tom Greene: “We had no
idea the extent of the Neurontin
prescriptions, how successful this
program had been.”
Tom Greene is David Franklin’s
attorney. He has spent the last seven
years amassing Warner-Lambert and
Parke-Davis documents going back to
1994. He shared many of them with
“Dateline” — they fill more than 160
boxes, memos and reports that prove,
Greene says, that David Franklin was
merely a cog in a grand marketing
strategy to deliberately and illegally
encourage off-label use.
Greene: “There are
countless documents that support what he
says and go far beyond his story and
bring the level of knowledge of this
illegal marketing program to the highest
levels of the company.”
For example, one memo shows that
plans for marketing Neurontin for at
least one off-label use were sent to top
executives, including Anthony Wild, the
president of Parke-Davis’ pharmaceutical
division, and Lodewijk de Vink,
president of parent company
Warner-Lambert. Neither responded to our
request for comment.
Other Parke-Davis documents, like
one from 1997, show that there were
teams inside the company not merely
pushing the envelope on acceptable
marketing practices but deliberately
advocating going around the expensive
FDA approval process, because the patent
life of the drug was so short.
The “recommendation” is that
Parke-Davis “not file” an application
with the FDA but instead take the
message straight to the doctors.
It was a full-court press. While
sales reps and medical liaisons like
David Franklin supplied company
information in doctors’ offices,
documents show company messages being
planted aggressively in the scientific
literature. Doctors simply trying to
stay educated about new drugs would find
themselves inundated with research, paid
for by the company and made to look like
independent scientific papers.
Greene: “They wanted to
disseminate knowledge of these off-label
uses throughout the medical literature.
They hired outside companies to write
articles about off-label uses so that
the message about off-label use of
Neurontin could be planted in the
medical literature around the country,
and indeed around the world.”
Here’s one example of how what
Parke-Davis called its “publication
strategy” worked: A company called
Medical Education Systems of
Philadelphia (MES) was hired by
Parke-Davis to put together a series of
articles on off-label uses of Neurontin.
MES would contact doctors hand-picked by
Parke-Davis to author the articles. But
in some cases, it appears that articles
were essentially ghostwritten by MES,
and the doctor’s name added later. As
one MES status report notes: “MES draft
completed — we just need an author.”
And what did the doctors get for
becoming authors of papers they
sometimes didn’t write? Fees of up to
one thousand dollars a pop.
Sheehan: “You are
attempting to create a false impression,
and you are making false
representations, and you’re doing it for
money. I just don’t see how that
approach can be supported or can be
viewed as appropriate.”
Hockenberry: “You know,
it’s always been my impression that the
finding of an author precedes the actual
writing of the paper.”
Sheehan: “One would hope
that’s what would happen.”
Papers were just the beginning.
Franklin says there was lots of money to
go around.
Hockenberry: “Did you pay
doctors?”
Franklin: “I personally
did not pay physicians. What my
responsibility was, was to let
physicians know that there was money
available to them.”
In fact the documents show there
were all kinds of ingenious ways for
doctors to get paid for an education in
the use of Neurontin. For instance,
“honoraria” are fees paid to doctors to
hear information or a presentation about
Neurontin. Parke-Davis records show that
these scientific presentations occurred
in some unscientific places: “Bus to
Yankee Stadium,” “World Yacht Cruise”
and “Braves Stadium.”
Doctors were also recruited for
teleconferences, seminars and trips to
places like Jupiter Beach, Fla., perhaps
better known for golf than for research.
Paying physicians like this,
giving them drug company money to listen
to information about the products they
prescribe, may be legal and common
practice in the industry, but to critics
like Dr. Arnold Relman, professor
emeritus at Harvard and former editor of
the New England Journal of Medicine,
it’s a conflict of interest — especially
in the case of Neurontin.
Relman: “What you have is
an unproven drug being widely used for
difficult problems by doctors who are
given a powerful economic incentive to
do it, spurred on by a company that’s
wildly aggressive in its marketing.”
After seven years of legal
motions and countermotions, Franklin’s
lawsuit is now being scrutinized by the
U.S. government and all 50 states to see
if government medical programs like
Medicaid may have been defrauded into
spending millions on improper off-label
prescriptions.
And in fact, in recently filed
court papers, the Justice Department
said that Franklin’s case “has presented
evidence of an illegal off-label
marketing scheme that is rife with false
statements and fraudulent conduct all of
which had one intended purpose and
result — increasing sales ...”
Three years ago, Pfizer bought
Warner-Lambert and Parke-Davis, so now
the biggest drug company in the world is
the defendant in one of the
highest-profile cases in the history of
the industry. Pfizer officials would not
speak on camera but did provide this
statement: “...the events to which you
referred are alleged to have occurred
well before — in some cases years before
— Pfizer acquired Warner-Lambert. Pfizer
completed the acquisition of
Warner-Lambert in June 2000. It is
long-standing policy that Pfizer has not
and does not promote its products
outside their FDA-approved labeling....
We are unable to comment further because
of the pending litigation...”
But it’s litigation that will
mean little to Regina Adams, who says
she will always believe that her
experience with bipolar disorder and the
drug Neurontin almost ruined her life.
Adams: “Now that I look
back, and that I know what I know now, I
wouldn’t have ever taken the drug. I
want everybody to know that’s taking
this drug the truth about it.”
Last year the FDA approved the
use of Neurontin in the treatment of
post herpetic neuralgia, severe nerve
pain, in addition to epilepsy. It is
still widely prescribed for pain and a
variety of other unapproved uses, some
of which have been studied and endorsed
by scientists and approved for use in
other countries.
And as for whistleblower
Franklin, he may have escaped legal
liability for what he did during his
four months with Parke-Davis, but he
hasn’t escaped his own conscience. He
admits he should have known from the
start that he was heading down the wrong
path.
Franklin: “Actually
interviewing for this position, I was
asked about giving examples of where I
had to bend the rules in the past and
how I handled that and how comfortable
was I working in gray areas.”
This case could end up clarifying
some of those gray areas and end up
costing defendant Pfizer millions of
dollars. And there’s one more thing.
Because his lawsuit is filed under the
federal False Claims Act, as a
whistleblower Franklin stands to get a
piece of any monetary damages, up to 30
percent, which could add up to millions.
So the four-month job in sales that
caused so much agony for this scientist,
ironically, might in the end have set
him up for life.
Hockenberry: “But even
after you get a settlement, if you do,
or a judgment if you do, or the case
just completely goes away if it does,
there are patients out there who took
drugs based on decisions doctors made
relying on your judgment.”
Franklin: “Right.”
Hockenberry: “They could
be hurt because of that.”
Franklin: “They may have
been hurt. And that’s something that I
wrestle with.”
Hockenberry: “What’s to
wrestle with? If they’re hurting, it’s
because of you.”
Franklin: “It’s because of
me. There hasn’t been a day in six years
that I haven’t thought about this and
wrestled with my involvement in it and
the guilt I feel associated with it, and
the sense that I need to correct it.”
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