Profiles: David Gibbs III '93
Answering a Call
The Terri Shiavo case will have a legacy impact that remains to be seen
David Gibbs III says his mandate from his clients,
Robert and Mary Schindler, was clear: "To do anything that we could think of that was legal and proper to save their daughter's life."
Their daughter was Terri Schiavo. In the last months leading up to the removal of her feeding tube and subsequent death by dehydration on March 31 at a Florida hospice, Gibbs did his best to satisfy her parents' request, tirelessly filing and arguing motions and appeals, lobbying statehouse and Congress, granting endless interviews, and distributing a video of Schiavo to the world media.
Gibbs was first approached by the Schindlers in 2003 when, he said, the case seemed to be "pretty much over."
"I was under the impression, frankly, that the case involved a brain-dead patient, and the parents were having trouble letting go. But while I listened to them, I started to feel it involved something more than that. And the first time I saw Terri, I was surprised to see how animated and engaging she was–she laughed and demonstrated life, love, and affection to her parents. I truly believed she wanted to live." The essential facts, according to Gibbs–which he maintains were unchallenged by the autopsy report of the Pinellas County Medical Examiner that was released in June–were that Schiavo's heart was strong, she was not "terminal," and she was brain-injured, not brain-dead.
On taking the case, he and the other nine attorneys at Gibbs Law Firm, just a few miles from Schiavo's Pinellas Park hospice, cancelled all appointments and worked around the clock for two days, reviewing a legal record that spanned a decade. After a direct appeal to Governor Jeb Bush to get involved, they worked with Florida legislators on what came to be known as “Terri's Law.” Florida's Supreme Court struck down Terri's Law late last year.
Gibbs says the case had an eerie resemblance to a clemency petition at that point.
"We were tracking between courts within hours," recalled Gibbs, who had become lead counsel in September 2004. "But even death penalty cases move on a calendar, and there are clear rights of appeal. We were truly up against a life and death clock."
He started by bringing a petition before Florida's trial level probate court, arguing that the Roman Catholic Church–of which Schiavo was a member–had a new position on what constituted “natural” means of prolonging life.
"In 2000, when the original order [to remove Schiavo's feeding tube] was made, the Church did not officially object to the withholding of food and water. But in 2004, Pope John Paul II made a very long statement that distinguished food and water as unique, natural–as opposed to unnatural–methods of prolonging life." Once that gambit failed, the case moved through a series of emergency filings, hearings, and appeals.
Although he maintains that at the outset he had no idea the Schiavo case would become the biggest news story of the moment, Gibbs acknowledges that the media was, by and large, an ally in his clients' legal fight.
In terms of the public policy debate, the media was a powerful force in raising this voiceless, disabled woman to the forefront of the debate. Otherwise, she could have died nameless and unknown.
Gibbs finds some satisfaction in the fact that the case opened a public discussion on end-of-life issues, but perceives differences between American and international attitudes.
“People here put these issues into a personal perspective. They said, ‘it's time to make a living will or appoint a health care surrogate.' People have approached me and said ‘I now appreciate the time I spend with my children more.' It's caused a lot of people to think about what life means and what a disabled life means.
"But the international community saw a disabled woman being starved to death in a way that had the blessing of the courts. They wanted to understand the moral authority behind the decision. Here the U.S. is in Iraq, fighting for human rights, and for decades holding itself out as a moral authority. [Europeans, for example,] could not figure out how, in the United States, Terri could be allowed to die in such a barbaric manner. Even countries that allow euthanasia oppose death by starvation and dehydration–death has to be quick, and administered in a humane manner."
While acknowledging that had Schiavo's wishes regarding her death been in writing they would have prevailed, he is adamant that the courts should not allow oral
declarations to be honored.
"The Terri Schiavo case will have a legacy impact that remains to be seen. Courts and legislators have to ask if this is the beginning of euthanasia and mercy killing in America. Will we, at some point, say it's kinder to end someone's life, or will we say this is wrong? Will we, as a nation, return to show our historic compassion?
"When courts decide who should live and who should die, it can create a legal quagmire. We need to go back to basic presumptions: Non-terminal patients are entitled to food and water. We will protect and preserve their lives. The people of America have to ask themselves whether they want to be a compassionate nation or a colder nation."
Already having been approached by legislators and groups around the country, Gibbs will undoubtedly be part of the ongoing public debate. He has a high profile as a religious liberties lawyer, and is general counsel for the Christian Law Association (CLA), founded by his father in 1969. Described on its Web site as a "ministry of legal helps," the CLA provides pro-bono legal assistance to "Bible-believing churches and Christians who are experiencing legal difficulty in practicing their religious faith because of governmental regulation, intrusion, or prohibition of one form or another." Gibbs says he arrived at Duke Law School intending to follow his father in this arena.
"For me, law was a bit of a calling, wanting to help people, and I have had the privilege of being able to serve." The Schiavo case represented "an unbelievable opportunity to make a difference" for Gibbs and his colleagues, he says.
"We do rest at night with the confidence in our hearts that we did what we could."