Luigi Mangione's 120-page healthcare history was accidentally shared by Aetna and his own lawyers, prosecutor says
On Friday, prosecutors blamed Aetna, saying they over-responded to a lawful, limited DA subpoena.
"Mistakes do occur," including on the part of the defense, the prosecutor wrote.
Luigi Mangione's confidential, 120-page medical history was accidentally emailed to his New York prosecutors not once, but twice — first by Aetna and then by his own defense lawyers, according to a new court filing.
Prosecutors took "appropriate measures" both times, forwarding the confidential health records to the judge and deleting their own copy, the lead assistant district attorney, Joel Seidemann, wrote in revealing what he described as a double-snafu on Friday.
"Mistakes do occur," Seidemann wrote in his three-page filing — meaning on the part of defense lawyers and Aetna, but not himself.
"Aetna erroneously sent us materials," he wrote. "Like Aetna, the defense then erred, compounding Aetna's mistake," he wrote. "Defense counsel sent the People an email attaching the entire Aetna file she now complains about."
"Once again, we complied with our ethical obligations by asking counsel if she intended to send us the file," Seidemann wrote.
"When she indicated that she did not and asked that we delete it, we complied with her request and did not take advantage of her error."
Aetna, meanwhile, defended its own role in the records relay, saying through a spokesman that they got a subpoena, and they answered it.
"Our response is the same as before," wrote Phil Blando, executive director for communications for Aetna's parent company, CVS Health. "Aetna received a subpoena for certain medical records, and we provided them appropriately."
It's the latest round of finger-pointing in a month-long battle between state-level prosecutors and defense attorneys over the confidential medical records of Mangione, the 27-year-old Maryland native accused in the December shooting murder of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson.
The records included "different diagnoses as well as specific medical complaints made by Mr. Mangione," his lawyers complained in their own filing last month.
Both prosecutors and the defense agree that Seidemann's May 14 subpoena asked Aetna for very limited data, just Mangione's health insurance account number and the period of time he was covered.
Beyond that small patch of common ground, the sides diverge widely.
The defense, led by attorney Karen Friedman Agnifilo, wrote last month that Seidemann should never have asked directly for Mangione's health insurance account number, arguing that it is protected under HIPAA, the federal Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act.
"The requested information does not appear to be protected by HIPAA, since it did not relate to a condition, treatment, or payment for health care," Seidemann countered in Friday's filing.
The sides also differ on what happened once Aetna attached Mangione's entire healthcare history, in four files, to its June 12, supboeana-response email to Seidemann.
Seidemann wrote in Friday's filing that his subpoena "was lawful and properly drafted," and that, as required, it directed Aetna to return the requested materials to the judge.
The defense accuses Seidemann of sitting on the sensitive records for 12 days before forwarding them to the judge. They additionally want to know how Aetna wound up sending the records directly to the prosecutor.
They've asked the judge, New York Supreme Court Justice Gregory Carro, to order "a full evidentiary hearing" to determine possible penalties, including kicking Seidemann off the case. They've asked that the hearing include sworn testimony and the surrender of correspondence between prosecutors and Aetna.
By late Friday afternoon, the judge had not issued a decision on calling such a hearing. A defense spokesperson declined to comment on Friday's filing.
In addition to the state case, Mangione is charged with murder in a federal indictment that seeks the death penalty. In another, more behind-the-scenes battle, prosecutors in both venues, state and federal, have said they intend to bring Mangione to trial first.
The order of trials has yet to be worked out.
State court has an advantage, in that Mangione's case is proceeding more quickly there, given the lack of complicated capital-punishment issues.
The feds, too, have an advantage, in that Mangione is in federal custody, and they have physical control of where he goes. Judges in both venues have said they hope to bring him to trial in 2026.
Read the original article on Business Insider
Solve the daily Crossword
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
5 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Watching My Parents Die Convinced Me To Plan A Completely Different Path — And My Idea Came From A Movie
'I saw Dad's junk today. Good times!' 'You just made me spit out my coffee,' my sister texted back with a laughing-crying emoji. The mental image of Lisa doing a spit take at work was a small consolation for seeing my dad in this diminished state. No longer able to navigate a trip to the bathroom on his own, he'd ended up on the tile floor at 3 a.m. with his pajama pants bunched around his knees. He was too weak to get himself back to bed. Dad had entered hospice a few weeks before this episode because he was dying from a rare bone marrow cancer. He had only six weeks to live, and I'd flown across the country to be his in-home hospice caregiver. Lisa eventually joined me in Dad's house as co-caregiver. She saw his junk, too. Along with confirming that I would have made a lousy nurse, the experience raised a nagging question that would haunt me in the following years: With no kids of my own, who will take care of me when my time comes? When I first arrived in Michigan to help my dad, I didn't believe he would die in a little over a month. The man seemed fine, puttering around the house on his own and laughing with family during visits. There really wasn't much for me to do, other than to make sure he took his meds each morning and cook something for dinner before 'Jeopardy!' came on. But just as hospice predicted, Dad declined a little each week. He became fatigued and unsteady on his feet, requiring a walker and eating less and less of the food I prepared. His pain increased to the point where morphine was no longer up to the task, and the hospice nurse — who came to Dad's house just once a week for a quick check-in — asked me if I thought it was time for a fentanyl patch. 'I'm a magazine editor,' I thought. 'How the hell should I know?' One day, while I was pushing Dad around the living room in his wheelchair, he murmured, almost under his breath, 'I want to die.' I wanted that for him, too. Six years after my 74-year-old dad succumbed to his illness, I discovered that my mom had vascular dementia, and that she was already years into the disease. The realization blindsided me during an otherwise normal phone chat. Related: Related: Out of the blue, Mom said she wanted to tell me a secret: Someone named Lisa had been calling her, and she had no idea who this person was. Mom had been playing along during their conversations because she didn't want to offend the nice woman on the phone. With a shaky voice I explained that Lisa was her firstborn daughter. Mom sounded surprised, exclaiming, 'Really!' as if I'd told her that the neighborhood squirrels had just flown a nut-shaped rocket to the moon. With me in California, Lisa in Michigan and Mom living alone in South Carolina — she never remarried after divorcing my dad decades earlier — the situation required a whole other level of caregiving. The excruciating, long-distance kind. Two years of hell followed Mom's late diagnosis. Managing her care became a second job, made even more difficult by the fact that she had no financial resources and I had to raid my retirement savings to help pay for it. As Mom's dementia escalated, she sometimes called me several times a day in agitation and confusion, telling me about a mysterious and frightening man who'd somehow gotten into her apartment and was moving things around. Sometimes, she said, he left items there that were not hers. 'The man,' as she called him, did not exist; like many people with dementia, my mom suffered from hallucinations and delusions. We kept Mom in her apartment as long as possible, as she would have wanted, but in-home caregivers proved scarce and unreliable in her small town. She eventually got to the point of needing 24-hour care, costing almost $600 a day, and the agency we hired 50 miles away had only one person available in Mom's area. One weekend, when her regular caregiver couldn't come, a neighbor called to tell me that the agency had left Mom to fend for herself for the past two days, and that paramedics were on the scene. Lisa and I started making plans to get her out of there the next day. Mom was far better off in assisted living, though she wasn't always happy about her new accommodations. A fiercely private person all her life, she didn't understand why staff members kept coming into her room uninvited, pushing aside the assorted items she'd used to barricade the door and insisting she go down to the dining room for meals. I wouldn't have wanted to come out of my room, either; the facility was dated and depressing — but it was the best that Lisa and I could manage. At 78 years old, Mom was younger than most of the other residents there and among only a few who could walk around the place unassisted. Until she started falling. Related: In the span of a couple of months, she broke both hips and fractured her shoulder, confining her to a wheelchair. Immobility and subpar care led to a gruesome pressure wound on her foot that her depleted, 65-pound body could never heal. What kind of society insists on keeping a person alive in that condition? In her predementia days, my mom — always quick with a joke or a biting comment — would have said, 'Just get a gun and shoot me.' When Mom died last year, the day before Mother's Day, I cried with both sorrow at her unfair, horrible ending and with relief that it was finally over. Yet, the nagging question remained about my own uncertain future. Caring for my parents, I'd become increasingly obsessed with the idea that I was doomed to spend my final years in a dreary care facility surrounded by strangers, just waiting for the end to come. While I realize that having kids does not guarantee that they will someday take care of you, I also know that there is a zero percent chance that your nonexistent offspring will do it. This thought filled me with a crushing sense of fear and foreboding about getting older. That is, until I resolved to plan my own death. The idea surfaced gradually from some hidden cranny of my subconscious, reminding me of my favorite movie since high school: 'Harold and Maude.' In this 1971 dark comedy starring the great Ruth Gordon, a morbid young man falls in love with a free-spirited septuagenarian. In the film's climax, Maude carries out a long-held plan to end her life on her 80th birthday, on her own unconventional terms. Why shouldn't I be like Maude? At first, I thought my death would have to be a DIY affair. I knew that if I wasn't going to die from an incurable illness within six months, or if I had dementia, that would disqualify me from the 'medical aid in dying' options offered by a growing number of states. Though well intentioned, these programs are so mired in bureaucracy and restrictions that even patients who qualify often die while waiting for approvals. Advocacy groups like Death With Dignity are working to streamline and expand end-of-life options across the country, but the wheels turn slowly. And if you have dementia, like my mom, or just feel like you've had a good run after 90 years on the planet? No soup for you! Determining how to bring about a dignified, pain-free ending without medical help was a daunting prospect, so I began workshopping the idea — only half-joking — with friends. Would my college pal, an anesthesiologist, be willing to risk prison time to help me out? What kind of bribe money would I need to convince a veterinarian to do the deed? Then, in the months after my mom's death, an acquaintance recommended Amy Bloom's 'In Love: A Memoir of Love and Loss,' a heartbreaking book that chronicles the author's journey to Zurich to witness the assisted death of her husband, who'd been diagnosed with early Alzheimer's. Related: I was astonished to learn that, in Switzerland, assisted death has been legal for over 80 years. It's lawful as long as the person is of sound mind and is able to self-administer the life-ending pharmaceutical cocktail. Dignitas, a nonprofit that Bloom writes about in her memoir, requires that the individual have an illness that will eventually lead to death — including dementia — or be living with an unbearable disability. Another organization, Exit International, also lays out options for older adults and couples who want to go together. Exit's founder, Philip Nitschke, even invented a futuristic, 3D-printable pod designed to deliver a euphoric, painless death without the need for assistance. The third-generation prototype is still in the testing phase, but in the meantime, Nitschke's nonprofit offers an array of 'final exit' resources, including guides to life-ending drugs and assisted death programs in Switzerland. Though some may find it macabre, learning about organizations like Dignitas and Exit International has brought me an incredible sense of peace and comfort in knowing that I have options. Instead of feeling overwhelmed with constant dread of getting older, I can focus on living. Still, I can't help thinking about what will happen if I can't make it to Zurich when I feel like it's time to sign off. Wouldn't it be wonderful for Swiss-style options to be available here in the United States, and affordable to all? Then, those who decide to opt out could do so on their home turf surrounded by loved ones, without adding physical or financial burdens to the process. I realize that not everyone would welcome this. However, I believe that, like abortion, end-of-life decisions are a personal choice that should be made by the individual. If you don't believe in it, don't do it. And if the Swiss can avoid the so-called slippery slope for 80-plus years through tight regulation and documentation, the U.S. can figure it out, too. My husband of 22 years, my beloved companion on life's journey, says he isn't quite ready to sign up for the BOGO assisted-death special — a final date night, if you will — but a lot can happen in the next couple of decades. We could both expire well before the need for such a plan arises, or I could simply change my mind. It's enough for me to know that I need not be forced to keep living beyond my self-determined expiration date — even if I have to travel all the way to Switzerland to pull the plug. I can do it Maude's way. Tina Caputo is a multimedia journalist and writer based in California. Her work has appeared in McSweeney's, The Belladonna Comedy, and too many wine and lifestyle publications to mention. This article originally appeared on HuffPost in August 2024. Also in Goodful: Also in Goodful: Also in Goodful: Solve the daily Crossword
CBS News
7 minutes ago
- CBS News
Nearly 180 inmates evacuated from Colorado prison as Lee Fire grows
Nearly 180 inmates were being evacuated from a Colorado prison, officials announced Saturday evening, as the Lee Fire continues to advance south. The Colorado Department of Corrections announced that 179 inmates were being evacuated from the Rifle Correctional Center in northwest Colorado. The inmates were being transferred "to other secure facilities outside the fire-affected area," the agency said in a news release. "Rifle Correctional Center staff have implemented the facility's emergency evacuation plan, ensuring the safe transfer of residents with enhanced security and strong coordination among partner agencies," the agency said. There were no reports of injuries to inmates or staff, the CDOC said. As of Saturday evening, the Lee Fire had burned more than 92,000 acres, making it the sixth-largest wildfire in Colorado since 2001. According to the National Interagency Fire Center, the fire is 6% contained. As winds shifted on Friday, the fire began advancing quickly to the south, prompting officials to issue new evacuation orders in Rio Blanco and Garfield counties. The Rifle Correctional Center is a minimum security facility located on a 75-acre site in rural Garfield County.
Yahoo
22 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Stoughton man arrested, charged with drug trafficking and firearm violation offenses
A Stoughton man was arrested and charged with multiple drug and firearm offenses following a joint investigation by local, state, and federal law enforcement agencies. Brian Price, 21, was taken into custody on Thursday and was charged: Cocaine Trafficking (100 Grams or More) Possession with Intent to Distribute a Class B Drug Possession of a Firearm without a Firearms Identification Card Possession of a Firearm While Committing a Felony Possession of Ammunition without a Firearms Identification Card Possession of a Large-Capacity Feeding Device Conspiracy to Violate the Drug Law 'This investigation highlights the strength of collaboration between local, state, and federal law enforcement agencies,' said Stoughton Police Chief Donna McNamara. On Thursday, August 7, at approximately 7:45 a.m., police observed Price entering a GMC SUV during surveillance related to an ongoing drug investigation. He was arrested following a motor vehicle stop. Law enforcement executed a search warrant at Price's residence on Page Terrace, where they seized two guns, 165 grams of crack cocaine, and drug paraphernalia. Price was arraigned Friday in Stoughton District Court and held without bail pending a dangerousness hearing scheduled for August 13. Additionally, a 26-year-old Stoughton male will also be summoned to court on a charge of Conspiracy to Violate the Drug Law in connection with the investigation. These are allegations; all those involved are presumed innocent unless proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt in a court of law. This is a developing story. Check back for updates as more information becomes available. Download the FREE Boston 25 News app for breaking news alerts. Follow Boston 25 News on Facebook and Twitter. | Watch Boston 25 News NOW
