Asch Deposition Takes a Twist Into the Bizarre

TIJUANA —  The question on everyone’s mind Saturday at the deposition of embattled fertility specialist Ricardo H. Asch is this: Can things get any weirder at the Grand Hotel?

First, there was the midmorning bomb threat, forcing some 20 attorneys to evacuate, lickety-split, the packed salon where they had gathered to hear the second day of sworn testimony by the doctor accused in the UC Irvine human egg stealing scandal.

Guards scurried off, walkie-talkies in hand, supposedly to search the entire hotel and parking lot for the bomb.

Then, there was the mysterious theft of the court reporter’s stenographic notes from the emptied room--prompting the young stenographer to break down in tears and a crowd of lawyers to speculate wildly about who might have done it. Accusations flew, with several plaintiffs’ attorneys hinting that Asch’s side had the most to gain by “sabotage,” and Asch’s attorney Lloyd Charton accusing an Orange County newspaper of complicity in the theft.

Later, selected rooms--including those of lawyers and journalists--were inspected with flashlights for the purloined notes, much to the chagrin of several guests.

“I guess they can just toss your room if they want to,” said one attorney who expressed relief that she had opted to stay in a San Diego hotel.

“This is like ‘Clue,’ ” said the bemused husband of another attorney.

As the afternoon wore on, a half-dozen breathless security guards, paid for by Asch, consulted frequently behind glass doors with Asch’s wife and employees of his attorneys.

Finally, after other attorneys and journalists had exhausted themselves with speculation, Charton made a cryptic announcement: The notes had been found, wadded up, in a yellow envelope somewhere in the hotel. And a janitor saw who took them: a lawyer involved in the deposition. But Charton wouldn’t identify the attorney.

“I don’t want to create a bigger issue than this already is,” said Charton, who expressed dismay that the fiasco took time and attention away from the testimony of his client.

Asch has been accused in more than two dozen lawsuits of stealing the eggs and embryos of his patients. In some cases, he allegedly implanted them in other women, resulting in live births.

The four-day deposition, called to provide information in response to many of these suits, is being held in Tijuana at Asch’s insistence because he fears arrest in the United States. No criminal charges against him have been announced.

On Saturday, the doctor testified that he never paid attention to egg donor consent forms and did not feel it was his responsibility to oversee such forms. Reiterating his testimony from Friday--the first day of the hearings--Asch continued to hold the university accountable for any “errors” at clinics where he practiced, pointing to a contract that indicated the university was responsible for all nonphysician duties.

On Friday, Asch fixed blame on university employees, including a medical assistant and a biologist without a college degree. He said he was not involved in running the clinics beyond performing surgeries and did not match donors and recipients, nor did he obtain patient consents.

Charton’s version of events on the unusual proceedings Saturday--which seemed to overshadow the substance of his client’s testimony--drew skepticism from plaintiffs’ attorneys and even from lawyers for the university, also named as a defendant in the lawsuit.

Kermit Marsh, a young outside attorney for the university, did a little poking around of his own. He asked at the front desk of the hotel whether anyone there knew of a bomb threat. The staff didn’t know what he was talking about, he said.

Other lawyers said it was the security officers hired by Asch who announced the threat inside the deposition room, saying it was phoned in by someone who spoke “broken English.” They said it is Asch’s side, not the plaintiffs, which stands to gain from interruptions in the proceedings, implying the bomb scare was a pretext and the theft an inside job.

“If anybody thinks we did it,” said Josefina Walker, a colleague in Charton’s firm, “it’s quite impossible. We left the room first and were on the 32nd floor, surrounded by security guards, the entire lunch hour.”

Some lawyers said it doesn’t make sense for an attorney to have stolen the notes because any lawyer would know the notes are backed up on a computer disc. But one plaintiff’s lawyer, Walter Koontz, said the computer record could have been challenged in court if the original notes disappeared.

In any case, the fiasco left everyone on every side of the fertility lawsuits expressing disgust, impatience and amazement.

“I have to say that in my 15-year career, this is probably the most atypical scenario I have ever seen,” said Larry Eisenberg, an attorney representing three couples. “Let’s see: The court reporter’s notes have been stolen and we had a bomb threat. Other than that, it’s just a normal day at the office.”

“It’s been like a very bad B-movie,” said Melanie Blum, another plaintiff’s attorney.