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TITLE: Shades of Shame AUTHOR: Sarah (pennywise1275@yahoo.com) RATING: Probably R for language :-) SPOILERS: Sex, Lies, & Monkeys, Nun-Killer Episode (Title??) SUMMARY: Bobby and Ellenor defend a difficult client in a second degree murder trial that hits close to home. DISCLAIMER: The Practice and the characters used in this story do not belong to me. No profit was made off this story; no copyright infringement intended. NOTES: This is in no way done and eventually I might totally change it. If there's a mistake in here or inconsistency, eventually I will find and fix that too. But for now I hope it's not too bad :-) Let me know what you think... Thursday April 22, 1999 12:15 AM Helen Gamble was exhausted. She'd spent the entire day giving opening arguments in a vehicular homicide case, only to have the judge call a mistrial. Apparently, a member of the jury was seen speaking with the victim's parents earlier that morning; the juror stated that she was unaware of the couple's association with the case, and said that she would have no trouble being fair. However, the judge didn't want to give the defense room for a possible appeal if the defendant was convicted. So, after several hours in front of the jury, the case was dismissed. Exhasperated, Helen and her co-worker Maxine Strickland had returned to Helen's office to discuss the opening argument. Maxine, who was a much more experienced prosecutor, gave Helen pointer after pointer after pointer... until Helen started to feel herself getting a complex. She'd been happy with her opening argument. But she wasn't going to argue with Maxine. They were stuck with each other, and Helen would have to restrain herself. She could certainly listen to Maxine's suggestions, but not necessarily act on them. It was past midnight when Helen finally arrived home to the apartment she shared with fellow attorney Lindsay Dole. The apartment was dark, and for a split second it occurred to Helen that Lindsay had sure gone to bed earlier than usual. She's probably had as long a day as you have, Helen thought to herself. She quietly kicked off her heals and moved across the living room, tossing her briefcase onto the couch. Her stomach was begging for a snack, but all Helen wanted was to collapse into bed and forget the day had ever happened. This was, most definitely, one she could have done without. Helen gazed longingly down the hallway at Lindsay's bedroom door; sure, the one night she really needed a friendly ear to talk to, Lindsay would decide to go to bed early. Helen shrugged, and as she headed into her room a noise that came from Lindsay's room startled her. It sounded like something had fallen, maybe a lamp or a wall-hanging, and Helen stopped, turning towards Lindsay's room at the end of the hallway. Lindsay had probably left her window open, and a gust of wind must have knocked something over. There was no other noise, but Helen decided she would risk annoying her roommate by awakening her rather than let it go uninvestigated. Better safe than sorry. At Lindsay's door, Helen knocked as she turned the knob and knocked light as she pushed open the door. The room was pitch black, but Helen could see that neither window was open so she reached for the light switch, whispering, "Lindsay?" Before Helen knew what was happening, she saw Lindsay lying on the floor, in a fetal position, immobile, and a man lunged at her. Helen recognized him immediately as Michael Kingston, the man who had recently been set free by Lindsay and her law firm after evidence was illegally obtained in his murder of a nun. Helen had put her heart into that case, she had promised nuns that she would be sure that the murderer was convicted. She hadn't been able to follow through with that promise, and now he was in her apartment, and he had a knife. Michael Kingston grabbed Helen with one arm and held the knife at her neck with the other, struggling to force her down the hallway. Helen thrashed around, trying to free herself. "Shut up or I'll slit your throat, bitch, " he hissed, pressing the knife against her throat. Helen quickly complied, trying to remember if she'd seen any blood on or around where Lindsay's body laid. Fear for her friend and roommate suddenly paralyzed Helen, who was determined to keep herself from panicking. If Lindsay was alive, they could still get out of it. Helen didn't know how; all she knew was that she had to relax as much as possible. "Please, Michael, what do you want?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "You. In several pieces, " he replied, coldly. Michael Kingston pulled away from Helen, shoving her with such force that she landed on the living floor on her hands and knees. Michael Kingston grabbed her arms and turned her around, sitting on her legs and holding onto both her arms with his. Helen looked over and saw that he'd put the knife down on the floor, and it was barely in his reach. If only she could get him farther from the knife, maybe she could kick him or hit him with something, overpower or trick him somehow. Maybe? "What did you do to Lindsay?" Helen asked the man. He paused. "She got hers, that traitor bitch, " he finally answered. Helen's whole body reacted, trembling so bad she felt as though she was convulsing... 'Lindsay's dead. Oh god, oh god, oh god,' she thought. 'Get ahold of yourself dammit!' "And now you're gonna get yours." Michael Kingston released Helen's left arm for a second before holding both her wrists in his right hand. He reached towards his pants, and Helen knew what he was going to do. She was nauseas and started to struggle, in a frenzy. She would not let him do it, not without a struggle. He was going to kill her anyway. "No, " Helen protested, trying with all her might to pull at least one of her wrists free. He reached his free hand back, into a fist, and just as it was coming down towards her face... A deafening explosion shattered the silent struggle; another followed, and another. Two holes appeared in the attacker's chest, and another destroyed his face, coving Helen's entire upper body in blood, skull fragments, and brain tissue. His body stiffened, totally motionless for several seconds. Finally, he fell backward, and Helen saw Lindsay, kneeling on the floor, holding a gun. "Oh Jesus, " Helen gasped, pulling her legs out from underneath the dead man. "Jesus, Lindsay. Call an ambulance." "He's dead." "I know he's dead, Lindsay, but we need help, " Helen stressed, crawling across the room to Lindsay. Lindsay was holding the gun so tightly her knuckles were white, and when Helen reached for it, Lindsay pulled away. "No, " she said. "What if he's not dead." "Give me the gun, Lindsay." "I want to kill him again. Once wasn't enough for him. He needs to die again and again." Helen stared at her roommate's bruised and bloodied face. "Lindsay, it's over. It's over. Give me the gun, and we'll call for help." For the first time since she'd shot Michael Kingston, Lindsay looked at Helen. Her expression was completely blank. "OK, " she finally whispered, placing the gun in Helen's hands. "Are you OK? Helen, are you OK?" "Yeah, Lindsay, I'm OK, " Helen answered, watching Lindsay's every expression. Lindsay seemed strangely alert and calm, but she didn't move. Helen stood and walked across the room to the telephone, carefully putting the gun down on the counter. She called the police, explaining who she was and that an intruder had been killed in her apartment by her roommate. Once off the phone, Helen walked back over to Lindsay. She held her hand out, to help Lindsay up, and Lindsay took it. "We should get ready to go to the hospital. Want me to get you a change of clothes?" A look of annoyance swept over Lindsay's face. "Helen, I've got a few bruises. He came in, slapped me around, and waited for you. That's all, " she stressed. "That's all, " Helen repeated, staring penetratingly at Lindsay for a sign that she wasn't telling all there was to tell about the attack. She saw nothing, and managed a thin smile. "We're OK, then. We're OK." The two embraced and sat on the sofa, waiting for the police and paramedics to arrive, trying not to focus on the corpse lying two feet away from their feet. 1:00 AM A few minutes into the conversation with the homicide detectives, Helen sensed trouble. The fact that Michael Kingston had been shot in the back, three times, aroused the suspicion of the detectives, who kept asking the same questions repeatedly. "Was he armed when you shot him, Ms. Dole?" Detective Howard Masterson asked. "He had a knife, " Lindsay replied. "When you shot him, Ms. Dole, where was the knife?" "It was on the floor." "Did you know that the knife was on the floor when you shot him, Ms. Dole?" "Yes, I did, " she answered. "Did you shout at him to get off of your roommate before you shot him, Ms. Dole?" "No, I did not." "Why not?" Helen took ahold of Lindsay's hands suddenly. "Lindsay, maybe you should call a lawyer. Bobby or Ellenor or Eugene, " she suggested. Detective Masterson sighed. "Ms. Gamble, your roommate does not need a lawyer. We're just trying to get down to the bottom of what happened here tonight, " he said. If his voice hadn't been so cold his words might have convinced Helen that everything was OK. "That man forced his way into our home and attacked us, that's what happened here tonight. Lindsay was simply protecting me against rape and very likely against being murdered, " Helen asserted. "Ms. Dole, did you have reason to believe your roommate was in imminent danger at the moment you pulled the trigger?" Masterston asked. "He told me he was going to kill-" Masterson cut her off. "I'm not talking about what he told you he would do." "She is, Detective. And as an Assistant District Attorney I'm going to tell you once that Lindsay did nothing wrong tonight. We were ambushed, and she reacted to threats made to my life. The fact that you seem to be trying to twist it around is truly deplorable." "You're awfully defensive of Ms. Dole's actions, " Masterson pointed out. "Could it be that you are protecting her?" Helen shook her head. "No. We've told you what happened, over and over again. And until we are both examined at the hospital, and until Lindsay is able to contact a lawyer and I am able to contact a lawyer, nobody is going to be answering anymore questions." Lindsay remained silent, observing the fireworks between Helen and Detective Masterson. She didn't add anything in her own defense, and when the exhasperated detectives left the two women in order to look around in Lindsay's room, Lindsay turned to Helen. "Helen. I have to tell you something, " she said softly. Helen took a deep breath. "OK, " she said. "What?" "The gun. I don't have a permit for it, " Lindsay told her. "Last year, when I got it, I needed a gun and I needed it fast. I didn't have time for a 48 hour waiting period. So I... used connections..." her voice trailed off. "Shit, " Helen responded. And then, a little more forcefully, "Shit! Lindsay do you have any idea-" she stopped. "Why did you need a gun, Lindsay?" "To scare someone, " Lindsay answered. "No. No, not to scare someone, " Helen shook her head emphatically. "That's not good enough, Lindsay. Wasn't it more for protection? Wasn't it-" "Helen, someone hurt me and I wanted to scare him. I never intended on using the gun." The detectives appeared in the hallway and Helen whispered over to Lindsay, "No matter what you do, do NOT tell them that. Do you understand? We need to call Bobby right now." "He was going to kill you, Helen. He told me. He said he was going to get you and that he was going to kill both of us. I had to do something, " Lindsay said. "Ms. Dole, we'd like to ask you some questions about the actual attack, " Detective Masterson looked at Helen, "and for now we'll wait on the other issues. How did Mr. Kingston get into your apartment?" 2:00 AM Bobby met Lindsay and Helen at the hospital 45 minutes later, where both women had been treated and released for their minor injuries. It was now 2 AM, and one look at Bobby gave away that he'd been awakened, and that he was terrified. He immediately headed to Lindsay and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged back, gently. Bobby looked at Helen, who was standing behind Lindsay. "What happened?" "Your nun killer came quite close to being a lawyer killer, though I can't imagine there would have been much outcry about that, " Helen said. "Lindsay shot him. She saved our lives." Bobby closed his eyes and sighed, releasing Lindsay from his embrace. He examined her face with his eyes, noticing that she was very badly bruised in comparison to Helen. "That son of a bitch, what the hell was he thinking?" "He came after Helen. He was in the apartment when I got home, hiding. When he connected that I lived with Helen, he went ballistic, " Lindsay told Bobby. "He planned on killing us both." Bobby nodded gently. "You shot him?" "Yes, gladly, " Lindsay muttered. Helen interceded. "Lindsay that is exactly the thing you don't want anyone to overhear you saying, " she said, looking around anxiously. "Oh, wait. That's right. I should feel bad shouldn't I. I mean, I killed someone, didn't I? I took a life. Forget that he was a maniac, or that he intended on killing me and my friend. I should be weeping and distraught, " Lindsay said, barely audible. "What the Hell is going on?" Bobby asked, confused. "She shot him in self-defense." Helen took a deep breath. "She did, but the cops act like they're suspicious. When she shot him, he wasn't holding the knife. She shot him from behind. Three times." Bobby's eyes widened and he lowered his chin a little, shifting his eyes to meet Lindsay's. "Oh..." is all he could manage to say. "They'd never prosecute, " Lindsay said. "Helen, you all know what a monster he was. That if I hadn't killed him somehow he would've gotten away with it, again, and he'd have killed someone else. He had to die. End of story." Helen and Bobby exchanged glances. "Don't forget Lindsay that you were a part of letting him out, " Helen said. "I had no choice!" Lindsay shot back. "Do you still think that made me happy? Does it help you to condemn me, to rationalize that this is exactly what I deserve for being a part of 'letting him out'?" "No Lindsay, " Helen replied. "I'm sorry. But Lindsay, that Detective Masterson? He's looking for a reason to nail you for something, and the gun thing, and the facts, and your attitude, just are not going to work in your favor. Be smart." Lindsay was furious, but rather than say anything, she walked away. She was not going to defend herself for something she had to do. No way. She stopped at the entrance of the Emergency Room and stared outside while Bobby and Helen slowly made their way over to her. "You don't really think they're going to try to charge her with something, do you?" Bobby asked quietly. "I don't know." "It's gotta count for something that you were involved, Helen, " Bobby said. "She probably did save your life. At least saved you from serious bodily harm." "Probably is the key word. He probably would have hurt us. He probably would have killed us. But, BUT, he didn't. We have some bruises. He slapped us around a bit-" Bobby interrupted. "We both know he had more than that planned!" "We are pretty sure of that. But the police, all they see is that an unarmed man was shot from behind three times, for what? For giving us some bruises, " Helen explained. "So she should have waited until he slit your throat or raped you before she shot him?" Helen stopped walking and stared into Bobby's face. "I'm not disagreeing with you Bobby. But I'm really worried that Lindsay's already walking on thin ice here, and if she doesn't get ahold of herself, this will look bad. Really, really bad." 8:15 AM Lindsay awoke with a start the following morning after Bobby rolled over against her. Disoriented, she had forgotten where she was and for a moment thought Michael Kingston was back. Her clenched fists began flying, slamming into anything within reach, which included Bobby. She was half asleep and her eyes were closed, and Bobby quickly grabbed her arms until she stopped flailing them around blindly. Lindsay's eyes flew open and she gasped, "Bobby, " sounding as if she wanted to yell but couldn't. "Lindsay, Lindsay, it's OK, it's OK, " Bobby said soothingly, over and over again. He couldn't mask his concern. "You're OK. He's gone." Lindsay took a deep, cleansing breath and assessed the situation. Bobby was lying next to her, holding her arms. He immediately let go of her when she pulled away, sensing it was over. She was finally back in reality from wherever her mind had taken her. Bobby ran his fingers through her hair gently. "It's OK, " he whispered. She didn't understand why he was looking at her like that, or why he kept reassuring her. Of course everything was fine. She'd killed Michael Kingston and the nightmare was over. So why then was she crying? "I'm sorry, " Lindsay said, abruptly ending Bobby's attempts to console her by practically leaping out of his bed. "I just forgot for a minute that I was with you. Startle reflex?" She looked at the clock. "Not going into the office today, Bobby?" Bobby shook his head. "Of course not." "Oh... OK... " He just stared at her. And she hated it. "What?" she asked. "Nothing. Are you sure you're all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?" Before Lindsay could respond, the shrill ring of the telephone on the night stand next to Bobby's bed erupted. He grabbed the phone before it could ring a second time. The conversation was short, and from what Bobby said Lindsay gathered that the police had summoned Lindsay to go in for questioning. Once off the phone, Bobby sat in bed completely quiet. "What did they want?" "They just said they had a few questions for you, " Bobby answered. "And they also said it's probably a good idea that you bring a lawyer." 10:30 AM By the time they'd reached police headquarters, Bobby counseled Lindsay not to answer any questions from the police without getting the OK from him. She was completely unconcerned with the fact that in this case she should be less matter of fact and assertive about what had happened. Yes, she shot Michael Kingston in self-defense; yes, it was justifiable. However, she seemed almost glad she had done it, and that worried Bobby. In this case, she had to be defensive. But, even with Bobby, she refused. Bobby pulled into the parking garage, and he and Lindsay got out of the car to walk the two blocks to the station. "He deserved to die, " Lindsay said for the tenth time since they'd left his apartment fifteen minutes earlier. "Stop saying that, " Bobby immediately replied. "You stop saying that. What's the matter with being honest, Bobby? I can't imagine any of those police officers didn't wish death on him ten times after finding that nun's body in his closet. They were probably appalled when he was set free. Would have shot him themselves if he'd ever attacked them or their family, " Lindsay said. "Yeah but in their minds you were somewhat responsible for him being let out." "I had no choice in that. You gonna keep throwing that in my face? Like, this is your fault Lindsay because you made the poor little judge drop the charges against the poor little nun killer." Bobby shook his head. "I'm not saying that at all. I'm only saying that in the mind of those cops, justice did not prevail with the murder of that nun. It didn't prevail because...we...did our job. So they're going to do their job." "They won't charge me, Bobby. I killed scum. It was a favor to them and whoever else Michael Kingston would've targeted in the future. They know that, you know that, I know that. This is just procedural. They have to at least act like they care. For face, " Lindsay said. "It wasn't my actions that got Kingston off for that murder, it was the cops'. They know that." As they were on their way into the station, Bobby said, "Just don't answer any questions without..." "Your permission, " Lindsay completed. "Yes sir." 2:00 PM By the third hour of questioning, Bobby was agitated and angry. It was more of a grilling, and as much as he'd gone into the whole thing pessimistically, the truth was he did agree deep down with Lindsay's feelings about what was happening. The cops were going through the motions so they could uphold their credibility, and in the end they would rule the death justifiable. It didn't look that way, though, at ten past three. "And now, I'm going to ask you again, exactly who did you get your weapon from?" Detective Masterson did most of the talking, as he had done the previously evening at Lindsay and Helen's apartment. Lindsay sighed. "Just some guy on the street. I don't know his name. I don't really remember much about it, " she said. It was the same answer she'd given the last... oh... six or seven times Masterson had asked. "That's not good enough, Ms. Dole, " Masterson snapped. "She's answered your question several times, " Bobby interjected. "Unless you have anything new to add, my client and I are going to go now." Masterson shook his head. "I don't think so, " he replied. "She hasn't answered the answer to my satisfaction, Mr. Donnell, and trust me I do have something new to add." He paused. "Ms. Dole, when do you say you purchased the gun?" "I did purchase the gun in October of 1997." "And when you supposely purchased this weapon, from some guy, you were in an inebriated state?" "Yes. I had been drinking heavily." "This was in the middle of the day?" Bobby shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Lindsay remained unshaken. "This isn't new." "It was in the middle of the day." "And why did you purchase this weapon?" "I don't believe it's in my best interests to the answer that question, " Lindsay replied. Bobby's interest peaked. She hadn't even told him why she bought the gun, and she knew better than to tell the cops, so it had to be something... potentially harmful. Why would Lindsay buy a gun? Why would she get drunk, go out, and buy a gun from a stranger on the street? Masterson's color in his face changed to a light shade of pink, and everyone in the room knew he was getting impatient. Lindsay felt like telling him to relax or he was going to have a heart attack; she couldn't imagine how the guy could live through questioning an actually violent suspect. "Your gun, the gun which you used to kill Michael Kingston, was used in the drive by death of an eight year old girl in May of 1997. She was walking down the street with her Girl Scout troop, Ms. Dole. Now are you going to think a little bit harder about who you got that gun from?" Lindsay didn't react to the revelation, though it certainly threw her. Instead, she calmly answered, "I do not recall who I bought the gun from, no." "Then I assume you can account for your whereabouts on the afternoon of May 26, 1997, " Masterson retorted. "You aren't implying that she's a suspect in that murder, are you?" Bobby asked, exhasperated. "A drive by shooting? Come on!" "The shooter, maybe not... but an accessory... yeah, could probably make that fit..." "Just for the heck of it?" "No. On top of the murder charge your client faces in the death of Mr. Michael Kingston, " Masterson replied. "She admits to having shot an unarmed man three times from the back without warning. If that's not murder, I don't know what is." "How about cutting up a nun into tiny little pieces and having the murderer set free because the cops didn't take the five minutes to get a god damn search warrant, " Lindsay snapped. Masterson took a deep breath. "Save the theatrics for court, missy. Might do you a bit of good. But as of right now... You have the right to remain silent?." Monday 9 AM "You don't seem to understand how important it is that you be straight with me, Lindsay, " Bobby said as he and Lindsay entered the law office. It was the first time since Michael Kingston's death that Lindsay had returned to the office; as soon as she was released from jail the previous Friday, she'd gone home with Bobby. Details about what had happened were few and far between, and Lindsay's co-workers were left to leave the holes to their imagination. Kingston broke into the apartment and Lindsay had shot him. And she'd been arrested. Somehow, that didn't make sense. Ellenor was no help; she dodged questions from everyone from the nosy Lucy to the well-intentioned Rebecca, going off into a spiel about how Lindsay was at most a friend and at least a colleague, and that gossiping about a very serious situation was to be abhorred. Of course, the others felt she was mistaking curiousity for gossip, but it did nothing to break her. She was tight-lipped. So when Bobby had announced that morning that Lindsay was coming into the office later, each lawyer made sure that they would be on hand. Of course, it would just be a *coincidence*. Eugene and Jimmy were in the conference room with the door wide open. Lucy and Rebecca both looked up from their respective desks as Lindsay and Bobby strolled in. A blanket of silence fell over the entire office. Rebecca glanced up from her desk, careful to not look too interested, while Lucy openly gawked. If it wasn't hard enough for her to believe that Lindsay had been charged with murder, she was definitely astonished by how horrible Lindsay looked. "My God, your *face*, " Lucy said when Lindsay headed for Bobby's office and passed Lucy's desk. Lindsay stopped and turned very deliberately to the wide-eyed teenager. "Better be careful, Lucy. I'm a vicious killer, haven't you heard." "Uh-um-uh-" Lucy stuttered. "Lindsay!" Bobby quickly admonished. "She's kidding. She's kidding." Lucy didn't look so sure. "That's not funny." "No, it's not, " Bobby agreed, glaring at Lindsay. "It's totally inappropriate." "It's like...totally...inappropriate young lady! Am I in trouble Daddy?" Lindsay mocked. "Yes, as a matter of fact, you are, " Bobby said. "Bobby, they released me on my own recognisance. Just because the police are going to be jack asses doesn't mean that the DA's office will be." "You're forgetting they formally charged you with second degree murder, Lindsay, " Bobby said. "This is FAR from over." Ellenor walked into the office and responded to Bobby's final sentence. "Yes, it is far from over. I just had a long talk with Payton Fisher. They're going to pursue the second degree charge." "Let them, " Lindsay said. "I won't be convicted." "Oh stop it, " Bobby sighed. "Do you have any idea, any understanding at all of what sort of trouble you're in here, Lindsay? It's not something to just blow off." "I did what I had to do to survive. If they want to call it murder, let them. I'd like to see them find twelve jurors who would think I was wrong, " Lindsay said. Ellenor and Bobby looked at each other, and then at Lindsay. Insufferable. She was completely insufferable. "Let's move this to my office, " Bobby finally said after a long silence. Once inside, Lindsay plopped down onto Bobby's sofa. "I want this thing over with as soon as possible, Bobby, " she said. "You know, how hard did Michael Kingston hit you over the head? Hmm? Did he kill some brain cells or just transfer some of his cold-heartedness over to you?" Ellenor asked. "Fuck you, " Lindsay replied. Bobby held his arms up. "That's enough. Enough. Both of you." "I mean, I can see that he just traumatized you, Lindsay, " Ellenor continued as if she hadn't heard Bobby. "Deserved each and every bullet you put in him, didn't he? Black eye- BANG! One in the back. Bloody nose- BANG! Another in the back. Slapped cheek- BANG! One in the head. That'll teach ya, you bastard. Is that how it was, Lindsay? Because I'm really searching for where the word 'justifiable' fits in there." "Who's side are you on?" "Yours, I think. But it's going to get old following you around trying to pull out the nails you're busy hammering into your own coffin, " Ellenor said. Lindsay looked from Ellenor to Bobby, who said nothing. "There are some really huge holes in your story, Lindsay, " Ellenor said. "Helen can testify to what happened." "Not to what happened before she got there, " Ellenor replied. "I told you what happened. That's not at issue here. What's at issue was the actual shooting, Ellenor, " Lindsay argued. "And Helen was there. She backs my story." Ellenor took a deep breath. "You got home three hours before Helen arrived. Lindsay, he was already in the apartment. Why did he wait so long to show himself? Wouldn't it have been less a hassle for him to deal with you one by one and strike out right away?" Lindsay shrugged. "He was a maniac. I can't speculate what was going on in his head or what his plan was, " she said. "But there's been no suggestion by the police that they doubt what I've said happened." "No, they don't doubt it, " Bobby mumbled. "Do you?" Lindsay asked, stunned. "That's not what we're saying, " Ellenor quickly said. "How long was it from the time he jumped out at you until Helen got there?" Lindsay shook her head and sighed. "I don't know exactly, " she said. "Maybe 20 minutes. I don't know." "And in that twenty minutes, he hit you in the face a few times, right?" "Yes, " Lindsay answered. "And he threatened my life, he threatened Helen's life. It was terrifying and I shot him to prevent that from happening." "Why did you buy that gun off the street?" Bobby blurted out. "Whoa, quick change of subject there, " Lindsay said. "Why did you buy that gun?" Bobby repeated. Ellenor and Bobby were both staring her down, and Lindsay didn't like it one bit. "I told you it doesn't matter, " Lindsay said. "Answer the question, Lindsay, " Ellenor said. "You know, I could really use a little support here, " Lindsay said. "Instead you grill me like any other *guilty* murderer that steps into this office. I don't need this." "We want to help you, " Bobby stressed. "You're keeping things from us and it's infuriating that you seem hell bent on jeopardizing your own case." "Why I got the gun will not help the case, Bobby!" Lindsay said. "You know that's not why you're pushing it." Lindsay stood up and headed for the door but Bobby quickly grabbed her arm. "Wait." "Let go of me, " Lindsay said, yanking her arm back in an unsuccessful attempt to pull free. "Bobby. Let go of me. Let go." Bobby refused. "Answer my question." "It's none of your business." "Answer the question, Lindsay." "Go to Hell, " Lindsay replied. "Now let go of my arm before my knee involuntarily places itself between your legs." Bobby blinked but didn't loosen his grip. "Do you plan on having children someday, Bobby?" Ellenor intervened. "Lindsay, we're your attorneys. We're prepared to do anything and everything necessary to defend you, but you're treating us like the enemy. The gun... that's a very big problem and we can't resolve it unless you're honest with us about it." "It's irrelevant." Ellenor shook her head. "You told Helen Gamble you got the gun to scare someone." "Jesus, she said that?" "Privately, Lindsay. But we both know she's not going to lie when she's called as a witness , " Ellenor said. "She won't lie. And the thing about getting a gun to scare someone, that is very bad." "It's the truth, " Lindsay said. She looked at Bobby, who had at some point released her arm. "I'm thankful that I had that gun. I won't pretend that I feel bad about it or that I regret anything I've done. I was protecting Helen and myself, and I'm glad I killed that bastard. He deserved it." Ellenor was fed up, and she got right in Lindsay's face. "Listen to me, god dammit. Do you want to go to jail, Lindsay? Of course not. So just shut the hell up and think before you speak. We both know that the innocent go down every single day, because they didn't *look* innocent or *act* innocent, they didn't cry or cringe on cue, and the jurors pick up on arrogance. We know this, " Ellenor said. "Get a grip." 12:45 PM "Helen, I understand your emotions are running high right now, " Mackenzie Wilson told his colleague. "But the evidence is there, and we would be neglecting our duty to uphold the law if we didn't pursue this case." "She saved my life!" Helen exclaimed, looking from Mackenzie to Payton Fisher, who sat stone-faced and silent. "You know that Michael Kingston was capable of murder and horrible things. You saw what he did to that nun! He was after me, and he would have killed me." Mackenzie nodded. "The most we expect is voluntary manslaughter, Helen. We're going in at second degree with the intent of bargaining down. You know the drill, " he said. "Last year, when that man, what was his name, Denzil Morris... when he shot his own son in the back thinking he was an intruder, did we press charges?" "That was different, " Mackenzie said immediately. "It wasn't. There was NO immediate threat to Mr. Morris and his family, yet he shot a figure in the hallway that ended up being his 14 year old son. In comparison, a man broke into my apartment, beat up my roommate, took me at knife point to my living room where was was lying on top of me, and he was shot, " Helen said. "Is this making any sense to you?" "Denzil Morris lost his son. He was grief-stricken and repetant, " Payton Fisher said, breaking his silence. "Your roommate on the other hand... she acted with total disregard to the law." "She was in shock! I was there, I saw her. It wasn't something she was happy about, she wasn't ecstatic about the fact that she shot him. But she had to do it, " Helen said. "I completely disagree, " Payton said. "With all due respect, you're too close to this to see clearly." "With all due respect, that's insulting, " Helen shot back. "I saw very clearly the crime scene photographs of what Michael Kingston did to a nun that was trying to help him. Can you imagine what he'd have done to me? After I tried to put him away?" "That's beside the point, " Payton said. "No, no it's not, " Helen argued. "Lindsay Dole saw the images too. You don't think that when she pulled the trigger, it wasn't to prevent Kingston from doing the same thing to us?" Neither man answered. "I would never condone anyone to commit murder, " Helen continued. "Yes, Lindsay Dole is my friend, and yes, I do believe her actions saved our lives. But as a prosecutor in this office, I would be extremely weary of going after this defendant." "Helen, " Mackenzie said, "you're not going after this defendant. We are. And we believe we have a case. Lindsay Dole was, according to the law, in the wrong. She shot an unarmed man three times from behind without warning. She became the predator. She had the upper hand and she made the wrong decision." "Lindsay Dole was in shock." "This woman makes her living helping people get away with violent crimes, including murder. Her view of the law is obviously distorted, and she should be punished for her crime just like any of her clients." Helen, for once, was speechless. Oh, yes, she knew deep down the driving force in this case so far had been Lindsay's profession, that the police and even her colleagues would jump at a chance to put away an attorney as threatening and *good* as Lindsay. But, she didn't expect that they would flat out admit their prejudice as Payton Fisher had just done. He dismissed Helen easily, tossing aside her objections to "being too close to the case", her credibility amounted to nothing. Her objections fell on deaf ears. There was nothing she could do... The case would be brought to trial. 3:00 PM "Where have you been?" As soon as she walked into the law office, Lindsay half-considered turning around and leaving again. Bobby was there alone, and the last thing she needed was another arguement. She hated fighting with Bobby. "Lindsay, where have you been?" he asked again. "Am I under house.... should I say... office arrest? Because I seem to remember being told that I was released, " Lindsay replied. "Everything's gotta be a battle, " Bobby sighed. "I had an appointment, " Lindsay said. "When I was examined at the hospital the other night, they suggested a follow up visit with my physician." A look of concern swept over Bobby's face. "Are you OK?" "Yes! Of course, " Lindsay said. "He said I'll be fine. Just a few bumps and bruises. Of course, if he'd told me I had a brain bleed from the head trauma, maybe that would help the case." Lindsay laughed a little. Bobby did not. Lindsay walked over to Bobby and put her hands on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Bobby, " she said. "I don't know what's gotten into me lately." "Let us help you, Lindsay, " Bobby replied. She nodded. "I will." 11:30 PM "I'm going to go ahead and go back to the apartment tomorrow, Bobby, " Lindsay said that night as she and Bobby prepared for bed. "Helen's staying there tonight and I don't want to leave her there alone." "Are you sure you want to go back there, so soon?" Lindsay nodded. "Yeah." Bobby pulled the sheets back and sat down in the bed against his pillow. "I'm sure Helen's fine, " Bobby said. "I know. But I just want everything to get back to normal, " Lindsay said. "She feels terrible about what's going on, she's sure she'll be used in the case against me. I want to assure her I understand." "I see." "And as far as everything else..., " Lindsay crawled onto the bed and rested her hands on each side of Bobby. "Lets get back to normal too," she said, moving in for a kiss from her lover. In between kisses, Lindsay added, "We're both stressed. We need to relax. Get back to normal." Bobby couldn't agree more, even if Lindsay's change of attitude did seem unsettlingly abrupt. He was painfully aware that he'd come close to losing her, too close for comfort. Michael Kingston would have done unimagineable things to both Lindsay and Helen, and if that had happened... He might have pumped a few bullets into Kingston himself. To have Lindsay with him, right now, to kiss her, and touch her, and make love to her, was a miracle. Lindsay reached over and switched off the light as she and Bobby disappeared under the blankets. Their lovemaking only temporarily got Bobby's mind off the case; in the back of his head, even though he hated himself for feeling that Lindsay might be so cunning, he wondered whether she'd had sex with him to avoid answering his questions. That didn't seem characteristic of Lindsay, but then again she hadn't been herself since the shooting the previous week. She was stubborn and avoidant, and very easily irritated. And, most of all, she seemed to be bordering on the edge of "desperate" to not have to discuss certain things with Bobby. Like why she got the gun, or when Kingston had attacked her in the apartment. She got home at 9 PM the night of the attack. At midnight, Helen arrived at the apartment and found Kingston in Lindsay's room and Lindsay, apparently unconscious, on the floor. When exactly did Kingston make it known to Lindsay that he was there? Her injuries were so minor that it seemed like he must have hidden for hours, but why would he do that? Why would he wait to attack until both women were there, when he would have double the opposition? Why wouldn't he take care of one, and deal with the other later? Lindsay said she wasn't sure what time it was when he lunged out of hiding and she had no idea what he had planned. Whenever they got to that point in the story, Lindsay would stiffen up and become annoyed with certain questions. Her entire demeanor changed, and she'd demand to go on to something else. "Lindsay, " Bobby whispered. "Are you awake?" Lindsay, who was lying on her side with her back to Bobby, said nothing. He half-considered waking her up. But, no, he couldn't confront her because of his own doubts. They'd just made love; the questions about the timetable and the purpose of the gun could wait until the morning, but no longer than that. 7 AM "So are you happy now?" Lindsay was, to put it mildly, furious. She wasn't at the kitchen table for ten seconds before Bobby began harassing her about the gun again. "Happy?" "Yeah, " Lindsay replied. Bobby tilted his head. "I'm not happy, " he said gently. "It doesn't make me happy to hear that you were date raped. Or that you thought it was necessary to buy a gun off the streets to scare the man who did it. That doesn't make me happy." Lindsay said nothing, and Bobby reached out to touch her arm but she moved away. "Tell you what, I'm going to skip the shower. Be ready to go in 5 minutes, I'm getting dressed, " Lindsay said, leaping up from the table. Bobby stood, too. "Wait, Lindsay. Do you want to talk about it?" "Talk about it? Are you insane?" "No, " he said. "Until the last few days, I had done a very good job of rationalizing to myself what happened and not being so hard on myself about it, " Lindsay said. "You didn't do anything wrong, " Bobby said. Lindsay ignored him, and continued, "Then you decide this is something you just have to know about. What, Lindsay got hurt? And she didn't come tell me, her Knight in Shining Armor? We can't really accept that, can we. So you push, push, push. *You've* made me feel ashamed. Giving me no choice and *forcing* me to do something I don't feel comfortable with." Bobby let out a long, deep breath. "Don't you dare liken what I've done in your defense to rape. I want to help you. On one level, yes, I wanted to know, as your lover, what happened. But on the other level, the MAIN level, Lindsay, I'm your defense attorney. I need to know these things." "Maybe you shouldn't be my defense attorney, Bobby. There's a conflict of interest somewhere in this situation. Ellenor and Eugene make a good team, I think, and as my defense attorneys I doubt they'll feel the need to have sex with me so that I'll open up to them, " Lindsay spat. "That's a low blow, " Bobby gasped. Lindsay looked at Bobby defiantly, prepared to argue, but her expression softened right away. "I'm sorry, " she said. "I didn't mean that." "I didn't have sex with you for any other purpose except that I want to be with you, " he said. "You know that." "God, Bobby, I'm sorry, " she repeated. "I don't know why I said that. I just want this all to be over, I just want it to go away." She was in tears, but Bobby didn't respond. And Lindsay knew it wasn't going to go away. Not before she managed to dig a hole so deep for herself that there was no chance to get out. 10:00 AM Though Lindsay was limited to intake of new clients for the time being, just being at work lessened her anxiety immensely. She was actually beginning to feel human again, after just a couple hours back. It was, however, incredily dull. She longed to be back in a courtroom, back to the old grind, but for now she'd have to settle for this. Everyone but Bobby was in court, and Lucy was busy talking on the phone with her friend "Alison", and every other phrase out of her mouth was "Oh my God" and "No shit!" At any moment, Lindsay could see herself walking up to Lucy and shoving the telephone down her throat. But that would be "inappropriate", as Bobby would say. Bobby... he'd sure been in his office for a long time. Ever since a telephone call from the crime lab 45 minutes earlier, Bobby had been holed up in his office. Of course, his reclusiveness probably had more to do with the argument that morning than anything else. He hadn't said more than three words to her since leaving his apartment. The silent treatment. Although he probably intended to make Lindsay feel bad, she was mostly relieved. She didn't like that she'd hurt him, or that he was angry with her, but at least he was off her back. Just when she was beginning to feel herself crack. "Lindsay." Lindsay's head shot up and she realized that Bobby had come out of the office and was standing at her desk. "Huh?" "We need to talk, " he said grimly. Lindsay glanced over at Lucy, who had suddenly grown silent in mid-sentence. "Excuse us, " Lindsay said, annoyed. "What? You want me to leave?" Lucy asked. "Yeah, take a break, " Lindsay said. "You've just been working your little ass of today. You deserve 15, 20 minutes." Lucy rolled her eyes, grabbed her pursed, and whizzed out of the room. "I got a call from the crime lab a bit ago, " Bobby said. "Bobby, I told you what happened. Build a case on it, and we will win, " Lindsay said. "Lindsay, " Bobby said, "this isn't just going to just go away." "*Make* it go away, Bobby, " Lindsay demanded. "I told you what happened and that is that. End of story." Bobby sighed. "No." "End of story, " Lindsay stressed. "You're jeopardizing our case, Lindsay, " Bobby said. "I'm going to say this one more time, OK. You have plenty to build a case on, a good, strong, solid case of self-defense and justifiable homicide. Michael Kingston was in my apartment hiding, he attacked me, he roughed me up, and then he went after Helen when she got home. I shot him out of fear for my life and Helen's life, " Lindsay said. "That is enough. End of story." *End of story*, Bobby thought, taking a deep breath. *End of story*. End Part 02/?? To Be Continued... |