deliberations, daemonfic
There’s only so much that you can do when something like a basic bloodbath happens in a courthouse. Drew Niles was doing just that, keeping an eye on his twelve jurors and trying to avoid looking out the window. Some quick-thinking court employee had put out snacks that nobody was touching. Juror number six was comforting juror number three, arm wrapped around her shoulder while Juror number nine conversed with a grasshopper.
Eileen looked ready to be out there among them, offering whatever comfort she could. Occasionally she’d start to move only to find she couldn’t go far-two feet away from the man sitting by himself next to the window.
Outside, the San Diego night had turned blue-almost crisp. It looked like a picture postcard, the sort of thing they’d use to entice people to come to the city now apparently the center of major scrutiny. Black trees silhouetted themselves against the dozens of tiny colored stars that made up the city at large.
Eileen pressed her nose against Drew’s knee, “…Are you all right?”
He didn’t bother to reply. The cell phone shattered the peace of the room. Juror number eight jumped. The hawk let out a scream as juror number ten tried to keep her silent.
“Mr. Niles?”
Drew swallowed, “…Is this Doctor Swartz?” Dr. Swartz was apparently the attending when the paramedics brought in Maggie-straight from the courthouse.
“Yes…Ms. Carson is doing just fine now. She’s still in the ICU, but she’s stabilizing. Thought you’d like to know.”
“…I do.” Drew didn’t care about Margaret Carson in a close manner, but to see a colleague hurt in such a way was one of the things you dreaded in this line of work. He watched the daemons around the room relax-one by one-as he closed the phone.
“Can we go home now?”
The penguin girl squeezed the bird closer. Drew swallowed bile as twelve hopeful eyes met his gaze.
Eileen was on her feet in a heartbeat as he rose-steady-ponderous. In times of crisis the public looked to it’s leaders-the ones that could be found and easily reached of course. Drew gazed over the jury he’d helped select and sighed, “No, I’m sorry.”
Cue the groans, cue the angry noises. He listened to them all before licking his lips, “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen-understand what you’re feeling right now and imagine…imagine being the one responsible for causing it and feeling that same fear.”
“Fear?” Juror number seven blinked. His Elkhound’s tail twitched as Eileen went over to her, nose-to-nose, paw-to-paw, “What fear?”
“…Dude-you guys still haven’t caught Corporal Whosis?” Juror number eleven looked stunned, “…He’s still on the loose?”
Corporal Whosis was Corporal Richardson; a United States marine who went to a far off place and apparently came back…incomplete. In a fit of rage he shot and killed his fiancée and his best friend. He’d stood trial in a civilian court after a lengthy process. Drew wondered what fit of madness had possessed the judge to allow that.
“Corporal Richardson is not in custody-“
“So he could be out there.” The woman with the grasshopper set her daemon down on her knee, “He could be coming for us.”
The nervous tide rose to a swell in the room as Drew closed his eyes tight. Juror number two-the foreperson-looked to him. Fury cascaded across the room to slap him in the face, “How could you be so goddamn stupid!”
“How hard can it be to find one guy?”
Juror number five spoke up. His goose honked-drawing the attention of everyone in the room, “I used to work for the FBI…it’s harder then you might think.”
Eyes opened. Drew saw the people who’d up until now probably thought this man an unassuming bystander stare. Juror number six blinked as the cheetah rose-moving toward the goose, “Holy shit you’re a fuckin’ Federale?”
“No.”
Baker! That was his name. Drew didn’t fall prey to the common pissing contest that came from Federal Authorities meeting State or local cops. He had a healthy respect for the Feds. Hell, they were coming over to assist in the investigation-this guy might be a great help.
“…Bruce Baker.”
“…I know that name…” The Jackal guy leaned forward, “Isn’t that the guy who writes under the name Peter Ludlow?”
The Grasshopper juror made a startled noise, “Death: The final Clue? The Adventures of Elizabeth Racer? I carry all your books in my store Mr. Baker-I didn’t-I can’t believe-“
“Save it honey.” The Juror with a German Shepard said, “…You want to be a fan…whatever you go ahead and do it when we’re not all in danger. Isn’t that what the case is? We’re all in danger Mr. Niles?”
Eileen spoke, “It’s not danger…”
“Some guy who shot his own attorney out on the loose? He probably knows all our names. All our faces.” The woman with the grasshopper winced, “Look, Mr. Ludlow-I mean Mr. Baker-“
The room erupted in argument. The fans crowding around poor Juror number five-just as he shot a helpless glance in Drew’s direction.
Eileen straightened beside him, “We’re not going to get anything done like this.”
“What would you like me to do?” he picked at the cuffs of his shirt, “Li, They’re nervous, they’re scared-“
“You were the one who put yourself in charge of them ‘rew.”
“Yeah, as an attorney. As a prosecutor. As an officer of the city of San Diego.”
“…So? Command.” She sat back, “Here. I’ll get you started.”
She threw back her head and howled.
Daemons don’t vocalize. Not initially, not normally. Their cries and their noises could only be heard with people in close proximity. Eileen was different-considered special if anything because of her…special talent. Her howls broke barriers, shattered eardrums and almost automatically garnered attention. It was useful in a crowded courtroom-Drew couldn’t count the number of judges who’d thanked him after she’d restored order to crazy proceedings.
It worked. The German Shepard sat back with a whine. Baker’s goose honked as the cheetah snarled-twisting around in a jerky motion as her human rubbed at her eyes. Silenced, they returned to their places.
Eileen wagged her tail, “You can talk to them now.”
“…Fuck that shit, you could probably command us to jump off the Coronado Bridge.” The waiter with the firefly shook his head, “…Isn’t there something illegal about that?”
“I don’t have to worry about that. I’m a District Attorney.”
He straightened his cuffs, “Now. Taking into account this situation-the judge has decided that you’ll all be sequestered until we…locate corporal Richardson.” He paused, “Were you guys on the verge of a verdict?”
Someone chuckled as Bruce studied him, “Can you ask us that?”
“No.” Drew admitted. He put his hand on Eileen’s head, “But I kind of have to hope that you were otherwise this trial will be postponed indefinitely.”
“Why was it postponed?” The man with the Elkhound patted the dog’s head, “…I read about that in the paper earlier.”
Eileen coughed. He would have.
Drew ignored her. He held up his hands, “…Corporal Richardson was declared initially unfit to stand trial until we caught him in the Mental Hospital helping with other people’s defenses. We believed that he’d faked an insanity defense. The second time we didn’t make it to jury selection-one of the witnesses recanted his testimony.
The Cheetah snorted, “Did he wash up in the Harbor?”
“…No.” Drew frowned, “He recanted his testimony. We had to go back to the crime scene. This was the third and final time.”
“Doesn’t Double Jeopardy apply?”
“…. Yes and no. A judge overturned his not-guilty by reason of mental disease or defect plea after the first trial-so he can be re-tried especially when we figured out he…” his fingers drew quotation marks, “Snowed the system.”
“You must really want this guy then.” The foreperson ran a finger along her spider’s back, staring at him intently, “…I mean really badly.”
Drew had dreams about the photos sometimes. It was a case the likes of which San Diego hadn’t seen in a…long time.
Yes. He did want him. He wanted someone apparently clever enough to snow the system. He wanted to prove that they could put away the really dangerous criminals. He wanted his name in the papers. He wanted…
His gaze lowered, “all I want is for you folks to be safe. San Diego on the other hand-wants this guy badly enough to put you up in the Westgate until this whole fiasco is over.”
Eyes went wide. A few people grinned. The Westgate was one of the biggest hotels in the city-where the pros from the comic Convention stayed in five-star accommodations, “…You don’t think he went far.”
“…That’s what the police are supposing at the moment.”
Juror three squeezed her penguin tight, “The Westgate’s supposed to be the best hotel in the city!”
“…Can’t argue with that.” Juror number eleven said airily, “I do business with the Grande Café in their lobby-“
“Think we could catch a padres game?”
“…People!” Drew held up his hands, “If you think this is going to be a picnic I can assure you-that won’t be the case.”
He swallowed, “This man has proven dangerous-apparently committing three murders. You’ll be kept under lock and key until this can be settled and you can return your verdict.”
The prospect of their accommodations thrilled them too much too care. He watched them file out after the bailiff-into the waiting van that would take them to their homes to gather their belongings. Eileen leaned back, “…Are we going to visit Maggie?”
He nodded once before he realized that one of the jurors was still there.
Juror number five was of middling height, the sort of face that looked as if it had seen too much for a single human being to bear. His goose daemon ruffled her feathers, “…Mr. Baker?”
Baker stared at him, “…One of the jurors returned a not guilty verdict.”
Shit. Drew rubbed at his head, getting to his feet to walk the man out, “…Do you know who?”
Drew shook his head, “I know who’s exempt though. The waiter-Kurt. He’s the firefly kid. The cheetah girl too. She drew a picture on hers.”
“Anyone else?”
“Bob.”
Drew snorted, “Bob?”
“The Red-Tailed Hawk.”
They hit the elevator as Drew, opening a stack of folders, picked one at random, “…Robert King. Owns a used car dealership out on the mile of cars. He’s the guy in the cowboy hat.”
Bruce’s eyes widened, “I didn’t recognize him.”
“Few do without the hat.” He closed the folder, looking at Baker. Baker wasn’t a Fed per say, they were incorrect about that. He was a profiler, “…I can’t think this is the first time you’ve served on a jury.”
“As a civilian.” Baker cradled his goose in his arms. The bird closed her eyes, leaning against him, “…It’s…weird.”
“Throws you off?”
Baker smirked, “…Never.”
“How about keeping an eye on this then?” They touched down into the lobby, the middle of another argument between various jurors. The foreperson was holding up her hands for quiet.
Drew stopped him, “Why didn’t you agree to be foreperson?”
Baker studied the woman for a moment, thoughtfully, “She’s ruthless. She’s a leader. That’s what’s needed.”
“…What’s needed is a guy with your skills.” Drew pointed out, “If half of what I’ve heard about you is true-“
“This isn’t a movie Mr. Niles.” Drew flinched as baker smiled, “…The guy with the forensic skills isn’t gonna win this. That’ll be your job.”
He moved over to join them as Drew watched. He ruffled Eileen’s ear for a moment before turning around. Maggie was waiting-and he didn’t expect to get a lick of sleep tonight.
------------
The coin turns, the situation shifts. There can be no law without crime for it to act as a buffer against. The polar opposites of man, the good-and the evil.
But he was not evil. He was confused and broken, broken in body and broken in mind and he feared that he wouldn’t be able to run any longer.
His hand reaches up to touch the snake as he watches with the training that once separated him from other men-watches and smiles as he sees the van pull away. It doesn’t take much effort to get into the car he stole to follow.
The blood on the windshield doesn’t bother him nearly as much as it should either.
------------
There is a moment of privacy.
Difficult in such circumstances, “I’m alone.”
“You throw them off?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” The other voice on the end of the phone is disguised, “…People can’t get ahold of Richardson. Understand?”
There is a pause, “People are dying Marty.”
“I’d kill half of San Diego for what that man’s got. You understand? Don’t let anyone stop you. With luck, you won’t have to do anything except sit there and look pretty. We can’t let people know what we’re doing.”
A firm nod, “Yes sir.”
“…Anybody suspect?”
“No one suspects.” A pause, “at least I don’t think.”
There is another pause, “Can you speak longer?”
“No Babe. Sorry.”
“Contact us again when you have another report Agent. You’re doing very well.”
“Thanks for being so understanding sweetie.” Cue a simpering smile, “…That’s my duty after all. Law and Order.”
There is a click, “…bye bye.” And a traitor moves to a circle of people curious about the grand lobby they’ve just entered.