It was almost 1 PM when Linda Huntington rounded the turn in the hospital corridor and headed toward the OB labor area to discharge her patient. The nurses had told her that the amniocentesis appeared to have not induced any contractions, and that Liz Parker was resting comfortably - but as she looked up and saw the female deputy sheriff at the entrance to the door, she remembered Liz's night before the procedure - getting shot at - getting her wounds dressed in the ER - and all for a pregnancy that hadn't been planned with a guy who apparently didn't even care about her - and she sometimes thought that SHE had crappy days. Never again, she told herself, would she gripe about anything. But as Linda went through the door and saw the young woman in bed three with the contraction transducer strapped to her lower abdomen, she could only shake her head in wonder. She was reading a book.
The title was The Molecular Basis of Genetic Defects, and it looked like it weighed about twenty pounds. Liz was half way through it, and was taking copious notes.
"And where did you find that?" Linda asked.
"Uh, I got it through the county library. They have this book sharing arrangement with the libraries in Albuquerque and this was in the Medical Center library up there."
"Liz, you'll worry yourself sick looking at a book like that. It has every once in a lifetime terrible case that's ever been recorded. If you just wait a couple of days, the test should tell us."
"Yeah but .... well, I want to be able to understand exactly what the test means."
"You already understand that stuff more than I do - in fact, I talked to Dr. Bernstein about that very thing."
"Dr. Bernstein?"
"Dr Rachel Bernstein is the director of the lab. She and I go back quite a ways. She has a PhD in Molecular genetics and was once part of the human genome project - until she quit to enter the private sector - and make a bundle as director of the lab I sent your specimens to. I told her about your case - mentioned to her that you were a whiz in science and were interested in a career in molecular biology yourself."
"Yeah, well twins might just put THAT on hold in a big way."
"Even so, she's agreed to talk to you personally once the tests are done - probably Wednesday evening. Here's her number..."
"Thanks, Linda."
"Liz - you know I'm worried about you. Not just what the test results will show - or even that people are shooting at you. I'm worried about your emotional status."
Liz nodded. She was depressed, she knew that. But if the babies were OK, that would certainly help. But only one thing could make her life really right.... 'Except that isn't going to happen Liz,' she told herself, '... so you'll just have to make the best of it for you and your kids...'
Liz got dressed and signed the discharge paperwork. But as she was leaving the labor room, the female deputy approached her.
"Miss Parker - Deputy Pembroke has asked to speak to you about last night."
Liz nodded her head resignedly, and went with her to the Sheriff's office.
Decisions AUwA (Mature) 12/28/10 [WIP]
Moderators: Anniepoo98, ISLANDGIRL5, truelovepooh, Forum Moderators
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 05/27/2009
Last edited by greywolf on Sat Aug 01, 2009 7:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 05/28/2009
As the female deputy ushered her into the small conference room, Liz looked up to see her parents sitting across from Deputy Pembroke. He gave her a perfunctory professional smile, but his words seemed more directed at her parents than at her.
"Uh, Miss Parker, I've been talking with your parents about the shooting - actually about both shootings and the arson attempt on your life - and explaining to them about the way these sorts of things occur. One attempt might be some random event or even an accident - and that's pretty much what we had concluded about the first shooting there in the restaurant - until we got the results of the gas explosion. As you know, we started keeping you under protective observation after that - but even with that protective observation someone came within inches of killing you last night. Since you are a minor we asked your parents to give the department permission to question you to help us try to find the person who is doing this and to stop him."
"I don't see how I can help," Liz replied, shrugging her shoulders"... I don't have any idea who is doing this."
"What is going on here appears almost like a vendetta. Things like that don't happen in a vacuum. Either you have something that someone wants - or someone is very angry with you - angry enough to kill."
"Pretty much everything I had except for my college money went up with my room, Deputy. Other than that - well - what you see is what you get," Liz said, shrugging her shoulders again.
"What about someone angry with you?"
"Well, Bubba and the others were upset about getting kicked off the football team, but he talked with me and - well, I can't really believe he'd try to kill me, he seemed sorry enough about the tank painting. Pamela is no doubt still mad - she's still holding grudges against people from kindergarten - but she is more into gossip and verbal backstabbing than real violence. I can't see her doing something like this."
"You used to be sort of close to Max Evans - last year I mean ?"
"We were never all that close - just lab partners."
"But you'd been friends for years and then - well the word is that your relationship had a falling out."
"We didn't have a falling out - there was no relationship to fall from....,” said Liz.
“So he would have no reason to be mad at you?” asked Pembroke.
“Oh, he has reason,” said Liz, remembering what she’d done to him that night, “… but it wouldn’t matter. He would never resort to violence. Max isn’t like that.”
“I’m not sure – relationship or not – that you are the best person to make that assessment, Miss Parker. Why don’t you explain to us just why you think he has reason to be mad at you, and let us come to our own conclusions.”
“It’s a personal matter – it’s private. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Miss Parker – we have eyewitnesses that put Evans in the alley outside your home several days before the arson-homicide attempt, and again on the night of the arson. These are reliable police officers who saw that. Right now he’s just about our leading suspect. It is extremely important that we have your cooperation. Whatever reason you think he has to be mad at you – well, that goes to motive, Miss Parker. So please answer the question. Why would Max Evans be upset with you?”
“You don’t understand. Max isn’t violent. He’s the most gentle person I’ve ever met – and he wouldn’t harm anyone. In seventh grade we had to dissect frogs in biology. I had to pith the frog – he couldn’t bring himself to do it.”
“He was so gentle he beat the snot out of a former all-state football player. That’s hardly non-violent.”
“You don’t understand – he did that for me…”
“Miss Parker, most murders are not done by random strangers. One third of all women killed in the United States are killed by an intimate partner. For pregnant women – that is the single most common cause of death. Sometimes it’s a possessive former lover – upset that the woman now has someone else. Sometimes it’s the father of the fetus – upset that the woman became pregnant – or refuses to abort.
The thought went briefly through Liz’s head. ‘Max was pushing you to get an abortion. He didn't even suggest genetic testing,’ then she pushed it aside. ‘No, Max wouldn’t do something like that,’ she told herself.
“Max clearly was upset when he read what was painted on the water tank. Was he upset because you became pregnant by someone else?” asked Pembroke.
“It isn’t Max,” said Liz. “You are wasting your time – and mine.”
“Have you ever been intimate with Max Evans,” asked Pembroke?
“That’s none of your damn business…”
“So you have…?”
“I did not say that I had, I said that’s none of your damn business.”
“Who did it, Miss Parker? Who got you pregnant.”
“That’s none of your damn business either – and this meeting is over.”
“Liz, the Deputy is only trying to help. You almost died last night,” said Jeff.
“I know its embarrassing dear – but you need to cooperate. The Deputy’s just trying to keep you safe,” said Nancy.
Liz looked at her parents – and at the deputy – and the female deputy. If she told them the truth – about what she did to Max – or even that he was the father – they’d just think he WAS guilty, and Max WASN’T guilty – she’d never believe that he was.
“I don’t care – Max is NOT trying to kill me – and this discussion is done.”
“Miss Parker, I know that you have just come right from the hospital – that you are recovering from your procedure there – so I’m going to give you some time to think this over – some time,” he said, looking at Jeff and Nancy, “… for your parents to talk some sense in to you. But this is an investigation into attempted murder – refusing to cooperate is obstruction of justice. If I have to get a court order to compel your testimony – I can certainly do so…”
Liz left the conference room to walk home – tears streaming from her eyes – the female deputy trailing closely behind her.
"Uh, Miss Parker, I've been talking with your parents about the shooting - actually about both shootings and the arson attempt on your life - and explaining to them about the way these sorts of things occur. One attempt might be some random event or even an accident - and that's pretty much what we had concluded about the first shooting there in the restaurant - until we got the results of the gas explosion. As you know, we started keeping you under protective observation after that - but even with that protective observation someone came within inches of killing you last night. Since you are a minor we asked your parents to give the department permission to question you to help us try to find the person who is doing this and to stop him."
"I don't see how I can help," Liz replied, shrugging her shoulders"... I don't have any idea who is doing this."
"What is going on here appears almost like a vendetta. Things like that don't happen in a vacuum. Either you have something that someone wants - or someone is very angry with you - angry enough to kill."
"Pretty much everything I had except for my college money went up with my room, Deputy. Other than that - well - what you see is what you get," Liz said, shrugging her shoulders again.
"What about someone angry with you?"
"Well, Bubba and the others were upset about getting kicked off the football team, but he talked with me and - well, I can't really believe he'd try to kill me, he seemed sorry enough about the tank painting. Pamela is no doubt still mad - she's still holding grudges against people from kindergarten - but she is more into gossip and verbal backstabbing than real violence. I can't see her doing something like this."
"You used to be sort of close to Max Evans - last year I mean ?"
"We were never all that close - just lab partners."
"But you'd been friends for years and then - well the word is that your relationship had a falling out."
"We didn't have a falling out - there was no relationship to fall from....,” said Liz.
“So he would have no reason to be mad at you?” asked Pembroke.
“Oh, he has reason,” said Liz, remembering what she’d done to him that night, “… but it wouldn’t matter. He would never resort to violence. Max isn’t like that.”
“I’m not sure – relationship or not – that you are the best person to make that assessment, Miss Parker. Why don’t you explain to us just why you think he has reason to be mad at you, and let us come to our own conclusions.”
“It’s a personal matter – it’s private. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Miss Parker – we have eyewitnesses that put Evans in the alley outside your home several days before the arson-homicide attempt, and again on the night of the arson. These are reliable police officers who saw that. Right now he’s just about our leading suspect. It is extremely important that we have your cooperation. Whatever reason you think he has to be mad at you – well, that goes to motive, Miss Parker. So please answer the question. Why would Max Evans be upset with you?”
“You don’t understand. Max isn’t violent. He’s the most gentle person I’ve ever met – and he wouldn’t harm anyone. In seventh grade we had to dissect frogs in biology. I had to pith the frog – he couldn’t bring himself to do it.”
“He was so gentle he beat the snot out of a former all-state football player. That’s hardly non-violent.”
“You don’t understand – he did that for me…”
“Miss Parker, most murders are not done by random strangers. One third of all women killed in the United States are killed by an intimate partner. For pregnant women – that is the single most common cause of death. Sometimes it’s a possessive former lover – upset that the woman now has someone else. Sometimes it’s the father of the fetus – upset that the woman became pregnant – or refuses to abort.
The thought went briefly through Liz’s head. ‘Max was pushing you to get an abortion. He didn't even suggest genetic testing,’ then she pushed it aside. ‘No, Max wouldn’t do something like that,’ she told herself.
“Max clearly was upset when he read what was painted on the water tank. Was he upset because you became pregnant by someone else?” asked Pembroke.
“It isn’t Max,” said Liz. “You are wasting your time – and mine.”
“Have you ever been intimate with Max Evans,” asked Pembroke?
“That’s none of your damn business…”
“So you have…?”
“I did not say that I had, I said that’s none of your damn business.”
“Who did it, Miss Parker? Who got you pregnant.”
“That’s none of your damn business either – and this meeting is over.”
“Liz, the Deputy is only trying to help. You almost died last night,” said Jeff.
“I know its embarrassing dear – but you need to cooperate. The Deputy’s just trying to keep you safe,” said Nancy.
Liz looked at her parents – and at the deputy – and the female deputy. If she told them the truth – about what she did to Max – or even that he was the father – they’d just think he WAS guilty, and Max WASN’T guilty – she’d never believe that he was.
“I don’t care – Max is NOT trying to kill me – and this discussion is done.”
“Miss Parker, I know that you have just come right from the hospital – that you are recovering from your procedure there – so I’m going to give you some time to think this over – some time,” he said, looking at Jeff and Nancy, “… for your parents to talk some sense in to you. But this is an investigation into attempted murder – refusing to cooperate is obstruction of justice. If I have to get a court order to compel your testimony – I can certainly do so…”
Liz left the conference room to walk home – tears streaming from her eyes – the female deputy trailing closely behind her.
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 06/01/2009
Deputy Hufnagel wasn't exactly enthralled with the Roswell Unified School District's no-tolerance policy on firearms. New Mexico was, after all, sparsely populated and mostly desert. What was more, there was a long history of firearm use - dating back to territorial days. Even older teenagers going out in the desert with their 22s and plinking at tin cans was common - lots of people did it. Hufnagel would have been willing to bet that if you searched thoroughly, you probably couldn't find more than about fifty percent of the cars that DIDN'T have at least a 22 shell or two kicking around in their trunk. He hadn't ever attended West Roswell High, even though he was a local. He had attended the New Mexico Military Institute, West Roswell's cross town rival. He had been a Cadet Company Commander his senior year - as he earnestly hoped his son would be after him.
The initial call - that the Vice-Principal had found empty brass in the back of an open-top Jeep - hadn't impressed him much. Even when he'd been told there was a gun in a locker he hadn't been overly impressed. The school district considered GI Joe action figure guns to be guns, and had once suspended a kid for three days for having a Nerf dart gun. Deputy Hufnagel was also a firm believer in the sayings of Mark Twain. Especially one that went, First God made idiots. That was for practice. Then He made School Boards.
On this occasion though, even Hufnagel had to sit up and take notice - not that there was a rifle in a school locker. He could find one of those in half the lockers at the Military Institute and probably even the JROTC drill team's lockers at West Roswell High since the pacifist school board hadn't QUITE been able to convince the citizens of Roswell to dump the JROTC. What DID impress him, however, was that it was a 244 Weatherby Magnum.
Hufnagel had been listening attentively at morning shift-change when the shooting last night was briefed. A 244 Weatherby Magnum was not a common rifle. Having been told no more than the caliber, Hufnagel decided that this particular call was important. Upon arrival, he also decided that Vice-Principal Holbrooke was an idiot.
"You did .... WHAT?" asked Hufnagel.
"Well, after I found the brass in the Jeep, I searched the locker. I found this rifle but no live ammunition so I figured it might be back in the Jeep. I handed the rifle to Mrs. Curtis for safekeeping, then I went back and went through the glove compartment and sure enough ... there was this box of ammo."
Hufnagel looked at the ammunition - spread out on the table - in disbelief. "Have you been handling the ammo?"
"Just checking to see that it's all 244 Weatherby Magnum, because that's the caliber of the gun, you see..."
"And who besides yourself and Mrs. Curtis has actually handled the weapon?" asked Deputy Hufnagel trying to avoid his face showing just how disgusted he was feeling.
"Well, turns out that Mrs Curtis has something of an aversion to firearms. She asked Mrs. Rubinstein to hold it for her - but she isn't much better. She asked Mr. Trujillo, one of our custodians to take care of it. He put it away in a locker where it would be safe. Once I came back with the ammo, the deputy custodian Mr. Albright brought it to me."
Well, that's easily the most screwed up chain of custody that I've recently seen,' thought Deputy Hufnagel. "How about the ammo? How many people have handled these bullets?"
"Well, just me - at least for the ones with bullets in them. I gave the other ones to Mrs. Curtis to watch as well - I'm not sure if she gave those to Mrs. Rubinstein or not - I told her they were harmless. Mr. Albright and I chambered one round - not a live one - just one of the ones I found in the bottom of the Jeep - I'm not sure which of these it was - just to make sure they fit the gun - then we ejected that one in and put the one that was in it when it was in the locker back in - so you'd have it just like we found it..."
'Yeah, just like you found it after half of the school staff put their fingerprints all over the damn thing,' thought Hufnagel. But the fact is, it couldn't be helped now. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten to a piece of evidence only after it had been substantially compromised by well-intentioned but ignorant people. "OK, now here's the deal. I don't want anyone - anyone at all touching the firearm, the spent brass, the live cartridges, or the case they came in - OK? Oh, and that goes double for the Evans kid's locker."
"Sure, Deputy. But are you going to arrest the Evans boy now?"
"First I'm going to make a call to the department - talk to a Deputy that's in charge of a certain investigation - then we are going to get the CSI people down here and find out if - by some incredible stroke of luck - we can salvage the value of this as forensic evidence. Until we do that, I don't even want the Evans kid to know about any of this."
"What if he goes to his locker?"
"When does he get out of class?"
"This next period won't be over for another forty minutes."
"By that time I'd love for him to go to his locker. We'll have someone here by then who can watch him. I'd love to know what his reaction is when he opens the locker and sees the rifle missing. If he doesn't already know, that is."
"How would he know?"
Hufnagel just shook his head and made the phone call. Chances were a dozen kids had seen Hufnagel searching the Evans kid's car - twice. Plus it sounded like everybody in the office and half the custodial staff had already heard about this. It'd be a flippin miracle if the Evans kid hadn't. But if he hadn't, and did a double-take and took off when he saw the locker empty - that'd be something anyhow.
At the Sheriif's department a phone rang on a desk, the officer answering it on the second ring;
"Investigations - Deputy Pembroke."
"Pembroke? Fred Hufnagel, here. I got some good news for you and I got some bad news, The good news is that I think I've got the 244 Weatherby Magnum you want. The bad news is I'm not sure what we are going to be able to do with it."
The initial call - that the Vice-Principal had found empty brass in the back of an open-top Jeep - hadn't impressed him much. Even when he'd been told there was a gun in a locker he hadn't been overly impressed. The school district considered GI Joe action figure guns to be guns, and had once suspended a kid for three days for having a Nerf dart gun. Deputy Hufnagel was also a firm believer in the sayings of Mark Twain. Especially one that went, First God made idiots. That was for practice. Then He made School Boards.
On this occasion though, even Hufnagel had to sit up and take notice - not that there was a rifle in a school locker. He could find one of those in half the lockers at the Military Institute and probably even the JROTC drill team's lockers at West Roswell High since the pacifist school board hadn't QUITE been able to convince the citizens of Roswell to dump the JROTC. What DID impress him, however, was that it was a 244 Weatherby Magnum.
Hufnagel had been listening attentively at morning shift-change when the shooting last night was briefed. A 244 Weatherby Magnum was not a common rifle. Having been told no more than the caliber, Hufnagel decided that this particular call was important. Upon arrival, he also decided that Vice-Principal Holbrooke was an idiot.
"You did .... WHAT?" asked Hufnagel.
"Well, after I found the brass in the Jeep, I searched the locker. I found this rifle but no live ammunition so I figured it might be back in the Jeep. I handed the rifle to Mrs. Curtis for safekeeping, then I went back and went through the glove compartment and sure enough ... there was this box of ammo."
Hufnagel looked at the ammunition - spread out on the table - in disbelief. "Have you been handling the ammo?"
"Just checking to see that it's all 244 Weatherby Magnum, because that's the caliber of the gun, you see..."
"And who besides yourself and Mrs. Curtis has actually handled the weapon?" asked Deputy Hufnagel trying to avoid his face showing just how disgusted he was feeling.
"Well, turns out that Mrs Curtis has something of an aversion to firearms. She asked Mrs. Rubinstein to hold it for her - but she isn't much better. She asked Mr. Trujillo, one of our custodians to take care of it. He put it away in a locker where it would be safe. Once I came back with the ammo, the deputy custodian Mr. Albright brought it to me."
Well, that's easily the most screwed up chain of custody that I've recently seen,' thought Deputy Hufnagel. "How about the ammo? How many people have handled these bullets?"
"Well, just me - at least for the ones with bullets in them. I gave the other ones to Mrs. Curtis to watch as well - I'm not sure if she gave those to Mrs. Rubinstein or not - I told her they were harmless. Mr. Albright and I chambered one round - not a live one - just one of the ones I found in the bottom of the Jeep - I'm not sure which of these it was - just to make sure they fit the gun - then we ejected that one in and put the one that was in it when it was in the locker back in - so you'd have it just like we found it..."
'Yeah, just like you found it after half of the school staff put their fingerprints all over the damn thing,' thought Hufnagel. But the fact is, it couldn't be helped now. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten to a piece of evidence only after it had been substantially compromised by well-intentioned but ignorant people. "OK, now here's the deal. I don't want anyone - anyone at all touching the firearm, the spent brass, the live cartridges, or the case they came in - OK? Oh, and that goes double for the Evans kid's locker."
"Sure, Deputy. But are you going to arrest the Evans boy now?"
"First I'm going to make a call to the department - talk to a Deputy that's in charge of a certain investigation - then we are going to get the CSI people down here and find out if - by some incredible stroke of luck - we can salvage the value of this as forensic evidence. Until we do that, I don't even want the Evans kid to know about any of this."
"What if he goes to his locker?"
"When does he get out of class?"
"This next period won't be over for another forty minutes."
"By that time I'd love for him to go to his locker. We'll have someone here by then who can watch him. I'd love to know what his reaction is when he opens the locker and sees the rifle missing. If he doesn't already know, that is."
"How would he know?"
Hufnagel just shook his head and made the phone call. Chances were a dozen kids had seen Hufnagel searching the Evans kid's car - twice. Plus it sounded like everybody in the office and half the custodial staff had already heard about this. It'd be a flippin miracle if the Evans kid hadn't. But if he hadn't, and did a double-take and took off when he saw the locker empty - that'd be something anyhow.
At the Sheriif's department a phone rang on a desk, the officer answering it on the second ring;
"Investigations - Deputy Pembroke."
"Pembroke? Fred Hufnagel, here. I got some good news for you and I got some bad news, The good news is that I think I've got the 244 Weatherby Magnum you want. The bad news is I'm not sure what we are going to be able to do with it."
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 06/08/2009
It took Pembroke about eight minutes to get to the school and find Deputy Hufnagel. The description of all the compromising of the evidence took somewhat longer. Even so, the discussion was done before the bell sounded to end the period.
"I still think you ought to talk to the prosecuting Attorney first," warned Hufnagel.
"We've got a firearm in his locker and ammo in his jeep. That's enough to take him in on suspicion of possession of a firearm in a school zone. Hell, all we were doing is responding to a call from the school district. That'll let us get the rifle to ballistics and give us a chance to fingerprint him when we book him. For right now that's enough. Once these cases get rolling the pieces just come together like a jigsaw puzzle - you know, you get the outer frame of it constructed and it makes it easier to fill in the interior pieces."
'Yeah, well a frame is what the kids lawyer will be claiming it is if his fingerprints aren't on that rifle - and given the fact that the numbnuts vice-principal has been handing it around and letting everybody up to and including the custodian handle it, the kids fingerprints might be the only ones we won't be able to find even if it is his firearm. They may be covered up by everyone else's prints."
"We can't help that. Besides - it's a 244 Weatherby Magnum. I wouldn't bet that there's ten of those in the whole state - mot of those in museums. What's the chances that someone used one to try to kill the girl and a DIFFERENT one - still uncleaned from the last time it was fired - shows up a few miles away today?"
"That doesn't stop his lawyer from alleging a frame-up - even if it is the right weapon."
"We can't control what the kids defense counsel alleges - hell, this time the kids lawyer will probably even believe it. It'll most likely be mommy or daddy - the perp's got two lawyers for parents. At least we won't have to get him a public defender."
"Presumed perp," said Hufnagel.
"Oh, he's the perp alright - the problem will be proving it. But the first step is to get him in to custody."
When the bell rang five minutes later Max got up to leave the class. The fact was, he probably couldn't even have told you what the class lecture had been about. He was deep in thought - relieved that Liz had had her 'procedure' and glad that she was safe - but determined to leave Roswell. He couldn't take the chance of being around her. Not now that she was again uninfected and - vulnerable. He'd let his alien genes take control of him once and inflict that horror on her - he'd never let it happen again.
As he reached the classroom door there were two deputies standing there.
"Max Evans...," said Deputy Pembroke, "... you are under arrest on suspicion of possessing an unauthorized firearm and ammunition on school property. Face the wall and put your hands behind your back."
Max felt the arm on his shoulder pushing him toward the wall as the handcuffs clicked in place. He could have gotten away by using his powers but then Izzy would have been at risk. But what the heck - maybe he was better off being in jail. At least then Liz might be safe.
"I still think you ought to talk to the prosecuting Attorney first," warned Hufnagel.
"We've got a firearm in his locker and ammo in his jeep. That's enough to take him in on suspicion of possession of a firearm in a school zone. Hell, all we were doing is responding to a call from the school district. That'll let us get the rifle to ballistics and give us a chance to fingerprint him when we book him. For right now that's enough. Once these cases get rolling the pieces just come together like a jigsaw puzzle - you know, you get the outer frame of it constructed and it makes it easier to fill in the interior pieces."
'Yeah, well a frame is what the kids lawyer will be claiming it is if his fingerprints aren't on that rifle - and given the fact that the numbnuts vice-principal has been handing it around and letting everybody up to and including the custodian handle it, the kids fingerprints might be the only ones we won't be able to find even if it is his firearm. They may be covered up by everyone else's prints."
"We can't help that. Besides - it's a 244 Weatherby Magnum. I wouldn't bet that there's ten of those in the whole state - mot of those in museums. What's the chances that someone used one to try to kill the girl and a DIFFERENT one - still uncleaned from the last time it was fired - shows up a few miles away today?"
"That doesn't stop his lawyer from alleging a frame-up - even if it is the right weapon."
"We can't control what the kids defense counsel alleges - hell, this time the kids lawyer will probably even believe it. It'll most likely be mommy or daddy - the perp's got two lawyers for parents. At least we won't have to get him a public defender."
"Presumed perp," said Hufnagel.
"Oh, he's the perp alright - the problem will be proving it. But the first step is to get him in to custody."
When the bell rang five minutes later Max got up to leave the class. The fact was, he probably couldn't even have told you what the class lecture had been about. He was deep in thought - relieved that Liz had had her 'procedure' and glad that she was safe - but determined to leave Roswell. He couldn't take the chance of being around her. Not now that she was again uninfected and - vulnerable. He'd let his alien genes take control of him once and inflict that horror on her - he'd never let it happen again.
As he reached the classroom door there were two deputies standing there.
"Max Evans...," said Deputy Pembroke, "... you are under arrest on suspicion of possessing an unauthorized firearm and ammunition on school property. Face the wall and put your hands behind your back."
Max felt the arm on his shoulder pushing him toward the wall as the handcuffs clicked in place. He could have gotten away by using his powers but then Izzy would have been at risk. But what the heck - maybe he was better off being in jail. At least then Liz might be safe.
Last edited by greywolf on Sat Aug 01, 2009 10:19 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 08/01/2009
“I want to see my son – and I want to see him now!”
The deputy on the desk had tried to stall – demonstrating that while he may have known her name he definitely didn’t know who he was dealing with.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Evans but your son has committed a serious crime. It’s going to take a few hours to process him before you can see him.”
In fairness to the deputy on the desk, he was doing pretty much what Deputy Pembroke asked him to do – stall for time until Pembroke had time to talk this one over with a deputy prosecuting attorney. He’d even sort of bribed him with a late afternoon snack. Deputy Branston wasn’t fully knowledgeable yet about the facts of the case – just that someone had found a gun at school and the kid had been brought in - and he had no idea Diane was a lawyer. That last fact was about to change.
Pembroke himself was in a back room - presenting what he had to a deputy prosecutor, convinced that he had enough to lock the kid up pending further investigation. They were having that conversation right now – of course Max was ALREADY locked up.
Diane had gotten the call from a somewhat panicky Isabel perhaps five minutes after Max had been taken into custody. Her daughter said she’d never seen the rifle – or the ammunition that was apparently found in the jeep. She had no reason to doubt her – besides, it was New Mexico. Teenagers went out plinking with their 22s all the time and on several occasions they had overlooked firearms in their cars and taken them onto school property. Unless the kid had brandished the firearm or was a troublemaker of some kind, the sheriff’s department pretty routinely confiscated the firearm pending a hearing and turned the child back over to their parents on their own recognizance. What was going on was NOT the usual procedure.
She wasn’t sure why someone was trying to frame Max – but that was bad enough. The fact that this condescending desk deputy wasn’t following the normal procedure turned her alarm into anger. The fact that the sheriff's department itself wasn't playing by the normal rules stoked that anger to white hot.
“My son,” she said icily, “has not committed a crime Deputy Branston.. He is ALLEGED to have committed a crime and you will either release him to me now pursuant to New Mexico Code 32A-2-10 paragraph A Section one, or I will have a writ of habeus corpus from the district court so quickly it will make your eyes water along with a civil rights lawsuit against you personally for illegal incarceration since you have NOT complied with either the notification provisions of New Mexico Code 32A-2-10 paragraph D or even the expectations of basic decency. You took my son into custody over forty-five minutes ago not three blocks from my legal office. I should NOT have had to have been notified about that fact by my daughter!”
No, Deputy Branston had never met Diane Evans before, but he had once gotten between a mama bear and her two cubs once up in the Lincoln National Forest. Contrary to popular belief, not ALL of New Mexico is desert. He’d been stopped at a rest-stop not too far from where Smokey the Bear had been found decades previously and coming out of the bathroom had found himself face to face with a she-bear. He’d backed off quickly – too quickly – and inadvertently stepped on the paw of one of the two cubs that unbeknownst to him were directly behind him. He’d spent the next two hours underneath the frame of his pickup truck moving back and forth as the bear – too large to slide under the chassis - had tried to reach him with her claws - from first one side and then another. He’d survived by spending the whole time sliding on the ground from one side of the pickup to the other – watching those claws swish by only inches away. Eventually she’d decided to settle with just tearing the camper on the pickup apart before leading her cubs back into the forest. Deputy Branston suddenly found himself wondering if he hadn’t been safer under that pickup than he was right now. Well one thing was sure – two maple bars and a cup of coffee weren’t worth putting up with this.
“I’ll get Deputy Pembroke right out to answer your questions, Ma’am…” said Deputy Branston as he picked up the phone, “I’ll get him out here immediately.”
The deputy on the desk had tried to stall – demonstrating that while he may have known her name he definitely didn’t know who he was dealing with.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Evans but your son has committed a serious crime. It’s going to take a few hours to process him before you can see him.”
In fairness to the deputy on the desk, he was doing pretty much what Deputy Pembroke asked him to do – stall for time until Pembroke had time to talk this one over with a deputy prosecuting attorney. He’d even sort of bribed him with a late afternoon snack. Deputy Branston wasn’t fully knowledgeable yet about the facts of the case – just that someone had found a gun at school and the kid had been brought in - and he had no idea Diane was a lawyer. That last fact was about to change.
Pembroke himself was in a back room - presenting what he had to a deputy prosecutor, convinced that he had enough to lock the kid up pending further investigation. They were having that conversation right now – of course Max was ALREADY locked up.
Diane had gotten the call from a somewhat panicky Isabel perhaps five minutes after Max had been taken into custody. Her daughter said she’d never seen the rifle – or the ammunition that was apparently found in the jeep. She had no reason to doubt her – besides, it was New Mexico. Teenagers went out plinking with their 22s all the time and on several occasions they had overlooked firearms in their cars and taken them onto school property. Unless the kid had brandished the firearm or was a troublemaker of some kind, the sheriff’s department pretty routinely confiscated the firearm pending a hearing and turned the child back over to their parents on their own recognizance. What was going on was NOT the usual procedure.
She wasn’t sure why someone was trying to frame Max – but that was bad enough. The fact that this condescending desk deputy wasn’t following the normal procedure turned her alarm into anger. The fact that the sheriff's department itself wasn't playing by the normal rules stoked that anger to white hot.
“My son,” she said icily, “has not committed a crime Deputy Branston.. He is ALLEGED to have committed a crime and you will either release him to me now pursuant to New Mexico Code 32A-2-10 paragraph A Section one, or I will have a writ of habeus corpus from the district court so quickly it will make your eyes water along with a civil rights lawsuit against you personally for illegal incarceration since you have NOT complied with either the notification provisions of New Mexico Code 32A-2-10 paragraph D or even the expectations of basic decency. You took my son into custody over forty-five minutes ago not three blocks from my legal office. I should NOT have had to have been notified about that fact by my daughter!”
No, Deputy Branston had never met Diane Evans before, but he had once gotten between a mama bear and her two cubs once up in the Lincoln National Forest. Contrary to popular belief, not ALL of New Mexico is desert. He’d been stopped at a rest-stop not too far from where Smokey the Bear had been found decades previously and coming out of the bathroom had found himself face to face with a she-bear. He’d backed off quickly – too quickly – and inadvertently stepped on the paw of one of the two cubs that unbeknownst to him were directly behind him. He’d spent the next two hours underneath the frame of his pickup truck moving back and forth as the bear – too large to slide under the chassis - had tried to reach him with her claws - from first one side and then another. He’d survived by spending the whole time sliding on the ground from one side of the pickup to the other – watching those claws swish by only inches away. Eventually she’d decided to settle with just tearing the camper on the pickup apart before leading her cubs back into the forest. Deputy Branston suddenly found himself wondering if he hadn’t been safer under that pickup than he was right now. Well one thing was sure – two maple bars and a cup of coffee weren’t worth putting up with this.
“I’ll get Deputy Pembroke right out to answer your questions, Ma’am…” said Deputy Branston as he picked up the phone, “I’ll get him out here immediately.”
Last edited by greywolf on Fri Sep 04, 2009 12:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 08/31/2009
The discussion had been going on for about fifteen minutes. The deputy prosecuting attorney - Alehandro Mariscal - was a friend of Pembroke's and thought - at least by the junior deputies like Pembroke, to be the most willing of the prosecutors to side with the police. Even so, the discussion wasn't going all that well.
"I understand your concern, but it's still awful thin..." said Mariscal.
"Thin? This kid is my number one suspect - and now he turns up with what is almost certainly the weapon that was used in the third attempt on the girls life in his locker. That hardly seems thin to me, Al."
"That's probably because you aren't the guy who would have to stand before the judge and make the case. What you suspect doesn't necessarily hold any water with a judge, and the kid didn't 'turn up' with the gun in his locker, the vice-principal turned up the gun in the kid's locker - then seems to have had everyone in the whole school administration and half the custodians handle it. If you get any kind of usable prints of the original user from that gun it'll be a miracle, and that's assuming whoever used it didn't wipe it clean in the first place. I cannot BELIEVE that idiot even jacked ammo through it.... Hasn't the fool ever watched CSI?"
"Apparently not, but look at the circumstances. It's the kids locker. He was the only one with the combination."
"Not if it's like most schools. Hell, I went to an open house at my daughter's middle school last year - same one I attended twenty-five years ago - I went to my old locker and tried the old combination and - guess what - opened like a charm. And even if there weren't generations of kids using those lockers, it's a public hall and the kids have only a few minutes between classes - dozens of people could have seen the boy open the locker and noticed the combination.
Besides that, if the vice principal is as loose with the master key as he was with a major piece of evidence, it won't be that hard to make a judge believe that ANYONE could have put that gun in that locker."
"You sound like you don't even care if the girl gets killed or not," challenged Pembroke.
"Hey - don't even start with that. Right now we are working on a rationale to keep the kid in jail while you investigate suspicion of possession of a firearm on the premises - a class four felony that usually draws an ass-chewing by a juvenile court judge and gets plea bargained down to littering with a sentence of 12 hours of public service in this county and the entire record expunged when the kid hits eighteen. We do that because we have exactly zero chance of getting a jury to make some kid a felon over bringing a firearm to school when practically every one out there has a kid that could make the same mistake - and with the older jurors it's even worse. They rode their horses to school with a 30-30 in their saddle holster to kill rattlesnakes along the way and positively don't understand the kerfuffle. This isn't New York City, in case you haven't noticed."
"I noticed, but it's still a class four felony. That ought to give us some leverage."
"Damn little. The precedent is set by the previous cases - and don't even bring up the suspicions of attempted murder - not when you've been illegally questioning the kid."
"I asked him where he got the gun..."
"A gun whose mere possession at school would constitute a class four felony..... without contacting his parents who have the option of getting him a lawyer before he has to say a word to you other than his name and address. Yes, I know, you can plead you were doing that in the immediate interests of public safety - to make sure there weren't other guns out there in the hands of the kids at the high school. That MIGHT be excusable. But even so, the wrong judge would take that as an indirect assault on his Fifth amendment rights even if they didn't realize you were trying to get him to implicate himself in attempted murder. Do not even let someone think that you were on a fishing expedition for evidence for that. Things will get real ugly if that happens."
"I still don't see why we can't make a case that the gun was probably his. Certainly no one has any more access to his locker than he does, and no one else would have a better opportunity to hide it there."
"You haven't proven that he had any opportunity to hide it there himself if this is the gun from the shooting. How would he have gotten it in the building."
"I told you, he did some special project there over the summer - The kid HAD a key to the building. He turned it back in, but he could just as easily have had a copy made. There are a dozen hardware stores in the county that would have made him one for a couple of bucks, and the chances of the clerk remembering it are somewhere between slim and none."
"But don't those keys have 'Do Not Duplicate' on them?"
Pembroke looked pained. "Please, they won't just duplicate the key anyway for another buck they'd duplicate the 'Do Not Duplicate' engraving. If he ever had access - and he did - he could still have access. Look, Alex. We are reviewing the security cameras but it's going to take time. There are ten different cameras and the recording system is proprietary. We can't download the information in another format and we can't fast-forward the damn things. If we knew what camera might have caught him and when, we could go directly to that part of the recording, but as it is we are having to review every bit of those ten recordings. We need time to do that - time to find the part of the recording that shows him in that building during anytime after the school was locked up Friday - preferably with the rifle in hand."
"What you need is a recording of him putting the rifle in the locker."
Pembroke sighed. "I know, and unfortunately we probably aren't going to get it. We started reviewing the video of the kid's locker and it appears that after dark there isn't enough light in that hallway to actually make out much of anything. Hopefully we can catch him coming or going through one of the lighted entry areas though - but it's going to take time. I'm depending on you to help me keep this kid locked up until I can get all that video reviewed. Otherwise, the kid walks and now that he knows we've found the weapon he used, you know he's going to split for Mexico and get away - assuming he doesn't go after the girl again first."
"I still don't see what makes you so sure this kid is the one? What's the kid's motive in going after her?"
"I'm not sure but something she said once - that she didn't think the kid was trying to kill her - but that he had reason to be mad at her - and the way she said it - I'm sure there is a motive. She apparently crossed him about something....."
"Before we get to any attempted murder charges on the boy you need to bring the girl in - find out what she was talking about. We can't take anything this thin even to arraignment without having a motive. But as for the gun charge - I'll do what I can to keep him in jail. It'll all sort of depend on how good a lawyer the kids parents get - if they get him one at all.... "
Pembroke looked at Mariscal. He hadn't really told him yet that 'the kid' involved was Max Evans - or that his parents were BOTH lawyers. He wasn't sure Mariscal knew the Evanses but was pretty sure he did. There were not all THAT many lawyers in Roswell.
He probably ought to do that he thought - wondering how much that would affect his friends thinking on the issue. Before he could though, he was interrupted by a phone call from the deputy on the desk.
He picked up the phone and heard the whispered voice of Deputy Branston.
"Pembroke - you absolute turd - Diane Evans is out here and you had better come out and speak to her about her son - pronto!"
"I understand your concern, but it's still awful thin..." said Mariscal.
"Thin? This kid is my number one suspect - and now he turns up with what is almost certainly the weapon that was used in the third attempt on the girls life in his locker. That hardly seems thin to me, Al."
"That's probably because you aren't the guy who would have to stand before the judge and make the case. What you suspect doesn't necessarily hold any water with a judge, and the kid didn't 'turn up' with the gun in his locker, the vice-principal turned up the gun in the kid's locker - then seems to have had everyone in the whole school administration and half the custodians handle it. If you get any kind of usable prints of the original user from that gun it'll be a miracle, and that's assuming whoever used it didn't wipe it clean in the first place. I cannot BELIEVE that idiot even jacked ammo through it.... Hasn't the fool ever watched CSI?"
"Apparently not, but look at the circumstances. It's the kids locker. He was the only one with the combination."
"Not if it's like most schools. Hell, I went to an open house at my daughter's middle school last year - same one I attended twenty-five years ago - I went to my old locker and tried the old combination and - guess what - opened like a charm. And even if there weren't generations of kids using those lockers, it's a public hall and the kids have only a few minutes between classes - dozens of people could have seen the boy open the locker and noticed the combination.
Besides that, if the vice principal is as loose with the master key as he was with a major piece of evidence, it won't be that hard to make a judge believe that ANYONE could have put that gun in that locker."
"You sound like you don't even care if the girl gets killed or not," challenged Pembroke.
"Hey - don't even start with that. Right now we are working on a rationale to keep the kid in jail while you investigate suspicion of possession of a firearm on the premises - a class four felony that usually draws an ass-chewing by a juvenile court judge and gets plea bargained down to littering with a sentence of 12 hours of public service in this county and the entire record expunged when the kid hits eighteen. We do that because we have exactly zero chance of getting a jury to make some kid a felon over bringing a firearm to school when practically every one out there has a kid that could make the same mistake - and with the older jurors it's even worse. They rode their horses to school with a 30-30 in their saddle holster to kill rattlesnakes along the way and positively don't understand the kerfuffle. This isn't New York City, in case you haven't noticed."
"I noticed, but it's still a class four felony. That ought to give us some leverage."
"Damn little. The precedent is set by the previous cases - and don't even bring up the suspicions of attempted murder - not when you've been illegally questioning the kid."
"I asked him where he got the gun..."
"A gun whose mere possession at school would constitute a class four felony..... without contacting his parents who have the option of getting him a lawyer before he has to say a word to you other than his name and address. Yes, I know, you can plead you were doing that in the immediate interests of public safety - to make sure there weren't other guns out there in the hands of the kids at the high school. That MIGHT be excusable. But even so, the wrong judge would take that as an indirect assault on his Fifth amendment rights even if they didn't realize you were trying to get him to implicate himself in attempted murder. Do not even let someone think that you were on a fishing expedition for evidence for that. Things will get real ugly if that happens."
"I still don't see why we can't make a case that the gun was probably his. Certainly no one has any more access to his locker than he does, and no one else would have a better opportunity to hide it there."
"You haven't proven that he had any opportunity to hide it there himself if this is the gun from the shooting. How would he have gotten it in the building."
"I told you, he did some special project there over the summer - The kid HAD a key to the building. He turned it back in, but he could just as easily have had a copy made. There are a dozen hardware stores in the county that would have made him one for a couple of bucks, and the chances of the clerk remembering it are somewhere between slim and none."
"But don't those keys have 'Do Not Duplicate' on them?"
Pembroke looked pained. "Please, they won't just duplicate the key anyway for another buck they'd duplicate the 'Do Not Duplicate' engraving. If he ever had access - and he did - he could still have access. Look, Alex. We are reviewing the security cameras but it's going to take time. There are ten different cameras and the recording system is proprietary. We can't download the information in another format and we can't fast-forward the damn things. If we knew what camera might have caught him and when, we could go directly to that part of the recording, but as it is we are having to review every bit of those ten recordings. We need time to do that - time to find the part of the recording that shows him in that building during anytime after the school was locked up Friday - preferably with the rifle in hand."
"What you need is a recording of him putting the rifle in the locker."
Pembroke sighed. "I know, and unfortunately we probably aren't going to get it. We started reviewing the video of the kid's locker and it appears that after dark there isn't enough light in that hallway to actually make out much of anything. Hopefully we can catch him coming or going through one of the lighted entry areas though - but it's going to take time. I'm depending on you to help me keep this kid locked up until I can get all that video reviewed. Otherwise, the kid walks and now that he knows we've found the weapon he used, you know he's going to split for Mexico and get away - assuming he doesn't go after the girl again first."
"I still don't see what makes you so sure this kid is the one? What's the kid's motive in going after her?"
"I'm not sure but something she said once - that she didn't think the kid was trying to kill her - but that he had reason to be mad at her - and the way she said it - I'm sure there is a motive. She apparently crossed him about something....."
"Before we get to any attempted murder charges on the boy you need to bring the girl in - find out what she was talking about. We can't take anything this thin even to arraignment without having a motive. But as for the gun charge - I'll do what I can to keep him in jail. It'll all sort of depend on how good a lawyer the kids parents get - if they get him one at all.... "
Pembroke looked at Mariscal. He hadn't really told him yet that 'the kid' involved was Max Evans - or that his parents were BOTH lawyers. He wasn't sure Mariscal knew the Evanses but was pretty sure he did. There were not all THAT many lawyers in Roswell.
He probably ought to do that he thought - wondering how much that would affect his friends thinking on the issue. Before he could though, he was interrupted by a phone call from the deputy on the desk.
He picked up the phone and heard the whispered voice of Deputy Branston.
"Pembroke - you absolute turd - Diane Evans is out here and you had better come out and speak to her about her son - pronto!"
Last edited by greywolf on Thu Aug 05, 2010 9:49 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 09/07/2009
Pembroke listend for awhile - then put the phone down and as Deputy Prosecutor Alehandro Mariscal watched him the color seemed to drain from his face.
"I think," said Pembroke, ".... we may have a problem."
Mariscal held back the comment that he was going to make - that he hoped Pembroke had a mouse in his pocket and that the two of them were the 'we' he was talking about - and sighed deeply. Pembroke was sort of a loose cannon, but they were at least nominally on the same side. Since the taxpayers were paying both of their salaries he probably had a responsibility to step up to the plate here - but he could already tell he wasn't going to like it.
"What seems to be our problem?"
"The mother of the kid who illegally had the gun in his locker is apparently here. She's apparently got Deputy Branston upset. Threatening to get a writ of habeus corpus, seems she is upset about something called notification provisions of New Mexico Code 32A-2-10 paragraph D, and is threatening Deputy Branston with a lawsuit over something called New Mexico Code 32A-2-10 paragraph A Section one. She may be threatening him with physical violence too - he didn't say that but he sure sounded cowed."
"Habeus corpus? New Mexico Code? Who is this kid who allegedly illegally had the gun in his locker and who is giving his mother her legal advice? I'd like to know what lawyer I'm going to be facing over this."
"The kid in custody is Max Evans and the mother in question is Diane Evans. I don't think she actually has a lawyer yet...."
"Diane Evans? Well Deputy Pembroke, that's just friggin' great that is. If I had to pick two lawyers in the world whose kid I didn't want you to play fast and loose with the arrest rules on, do you know who those two would be?"
Pembroke shook his head.
"Well one of them would be Philip Evans. He's a pretty good lawyer, he is. But that's not actually the reason I'd put him up at the top of the list, because there are a few lawyers in town who actually do a lot more criminal law than he dose that might - for a case like this - actually be more formidable adversaries than Philip Evans. No, the real reason I wouldn't want to pick on old Phil's kid is that Phil is married to Diane Evans, and she is the lawyer you don't want to mess with on anything she believes strongly about, and ... Gee, do you suppose she might just feel strongly about you arresting her son?"
"Look, it's fine for you to belittle me after the fact, but that doesn't change the fact that we had a young girl - a pregnant young girl - almost get killed, and this isn't the first attempt on her life either. You think it looks bad to lean on a kid to try to break this case? You try to explain to that girl's parents - to the whole damn county - when she winds up dead. This was the third attack on her life, damn it."
"Yeah, but it doesn't make it easier when you screw up like this - it makes it harder. Ah hell, what's the sense of talking. We better get in there and try and rescue Branston before she does chew him up and spit him out. But dammit, Pembroke, if I can paper this over, you've got to promise me that you aren't going to do anything - anything at all like this in the future - and damn sure not with Max Evans. It won't do one bit of good to find out that the kid actually is guilty of something if you've poisoned the well so damn much we'll never get a conviction."
Pembroke sighed deeply. "Agreed...."
"Well, let's get in there and face the music," said Mariscal
"I think," said Pembroke, ".... we may have a problem."
Mariscal held back the comment that he was going to make - that he hoped Pembroke had a mouse in his pocket and that the two of them were the 'we' he was talking about - and sighed deeply. Pembroke was sort of a loose cannon, but they were at least nominally on the same side. Since the taxpayers were paying both of their salaries he probably had a responsibility to step up to the plate here - but he could already tell he wasn't going to like it.
"What seems to be our problem?"
"The mother of the kid who illegally had the gun in his locker is apparently here. She's apparently got Deputy Branston upset. Threatening to get a writ of habeus corpus, seems she is upset about something called notification provisions of New Mexico Code 32A-2-10 paragraph D, and is threatening Deputy Branston with a lawsuit over something called New Mexico Code 32A-2-10 paragraph A Section one. She may be threatening him with physical violence too - he didn't say that but he sure sounded cowed."
"Habeus corpus? New Mexico Code? Who is this kid who allegedly illegally had the gun in his locker and who is giving his mother her legal advice? I'd like to know what lawyer I'm going to be facing over this."
"The kid in custody is Max Evans and the mother in question is Diane Evans. I don't think she actually has a lawyer yet...."
"Diane Evans? Well Deputy Pembroke, that's just friggin' great that is. If I had to pick two lawyers in the world whose kid I didn't want you to play fast and loose with the arrest rules on, do you know who those two would be?"
Pembroke shook his head.
"Well one of them would be Philip Evans. He's a pretty good lawyer, he is. But that's not actually the reason I'd put him up at the top of the list, because there are a few lawyers in town who actually do a lot more criminal law than he dose that might - for a case like this - actually be more formidable adversaries than Philip Evans. No, the real reason I wouldn't want to pick on old Phil's kid is that Phil is married to Diane Evans, and she is the lawyer you don't want to mess with on anything she believes strongly about, and ... Gee, do you suppose she might just feel strongly about you arresting her son?"
"Look, it's fine for you to belittle me after the fact, but that doesn't change the fact that we had a young girl - a pregnant young girl - almost get killed, and this isn't the first attempt on her life either. You think it looks bad to lean on a kid to try to break this case? You try to explain to that girl's parents - to the whole damn county - when she winds up dead. This was the third attack on her life, damn it."
"Yeah, but it doesn't make it easier when you screw up like this - it makes it harder. Ah hell, what's the sense of talking. We better get in there and try and rescue Branston before she does chew him up and spit him out. But dammit, Pembroke, if I can paper this over, you've got to promise me that you aren't going to do anything - anything at all like this in the future - and damn sure not with Max Evans. It won't do one bit of good to find out that the kid actually is guilty of something if you've poisoned the well so damn much we'll never get a conviction."
Pembroke sighed deeply. "Agreed...."
"Well, let's get in there and face the music," said Mariscal
Last edited by greywolf on Thu Aug 05, 2010 9:53 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 07/31/2010
'This,' thought Deputy Prosecuting Attorney Alehandro Mariscal, '...is not going to be pleasant.'
In fact, Deputy Branston looked like he'd just had his ass-roasted and the glare he was given Pembroke was a none-too-subtle indication about who he thought deserved the blame. At least the man gave him a nod of the head - as much as to acknowledge that he appreciated Mariscal being there to help, 'Or at least as an additional target to share the fire,' a small voice in his head told him. He fought to avoid wincing at that. It was rare to see Diane Evans angry in court, she was too good a lawyer to really need to actually be angry most of the time. Oh she could get emotional, particularly over domestic violence cases, but angry like she was now? Uh-uh. Pembroke had really stepped in it and the only way this wasn't going to be really ugly was to be conciliatory. Al Marisco just hoped that Deputy Pembroke would have the good sense to not open his mouth and put his foot in it.
"Well, Good afternoon, Diane."
The glare he got from her froze him in mid-step. Already he'd screwed up.
"Well, I don't suppose it's actually been that good an afternoon for you at that," Mariscal continued, trying not to wince at the very intensity of the look she was giving him. "I've been discussing the arrest of your son with Officer Pembroke here, and it's quite clear that some errors were made in his processing, and I'd like to express my regrets..."
"Errors WERE MADE! Al??? .....WERE MADE?" said Diane.
It was only after Marisco saw that Pembroke had backed off a step that he realized he'd done the same. Even Branston had rolled his chair back about nine inches - as much clearance as he had with the wall behind him.
"Don't you DARE use passive tense to me on this. Don't try to act like the 'errors' just happened - somebody made them - nor are they just 'errors' either. They are violations of state law - which you as an officer of the court ought to damn well know?"
"Diane, I realize that this looks bad...."
"Looks bad? It looks like a conspiracy to deny a person - a MINOR person - his rights under not only the laws of New Mexico, laws that you and THESE TWO officers have sworn to uphold, but FEDERAL criminal Law as well - since it seems apparent that this would be a conspiracy to obstruct the course of justice for my client - FOR MY SON - under 42 US Code section 1985(2) and the first part of section 1985(3)."
In fact Marisco did know what 42 USC 1985(2) was, he'd done a paper on it in law school. It was a Reconstruction era law designed to hold local local police officials accountable if they turned a blind eye to the workings of the Klan in the deep South. Diane had them dead-to-rights on the state charges but that was - at most - going to get them chewed out and perhaps the case - if any - against the Evans kid sanctioned by a local state judge. That would mean that any evidence Pembroke had thus far gathered against the Evans boy would certainly have to be thrown out. The federal statute was a more innovative threat. If she went through with it, there was at least a chance that Pembroke could actually go to jail for his actions - as could every officer who had known about his actions and not taken action himself to stop them. It was a bit of a stretch - but one Guerro actually wouldn't have bet against Diane Evans being to carry off. Besides, even if there was no criminal penalty against the officers, the law allowed civil action by the victim against the officers and the governmental body that employed them. This could cost the officers and the county a considerable sum to even fight and a whole lot more if they lost.
"Diane....what it looks like is that a young girl almost got shot last night, and in the search for the shooter some people got carried away. And as usual, some people don't know how to handle evidence and - well one thing lead to another and in a totally frustrating night and morning for a lot of people - good people - well intentioned people - well some of those people screwed up, OK? I'm sorry it happened to your kid, Hell I'm sorry it happened at all. Yes, we screwed up if that's what you want me to admit and there was really no excuse for it other than the fact that they got carried away with the emotions of the moment - which I KNOW law enforcement is not supposed to do....but they are just human beings you know, and all things considered it was probably better they did it with your son than anyone else because we both know that the chances of you actually letting them get away with it are non-existent. So OK, your son has been ill-treated and we owe him for that, and you are upset and deservedly so. But none of that changes the fact that a girl's life is in jeopardy here and we still need all the information that we can get to help her. I'm not asking you to forgive this and I sure don't expect you to forget it, but what I am asking is for your cooperation and the cooperation of your son in helping us to protect this young girl. If you want to sue the county or even hammer the people who did make those mistakes afterward - well you are certainly capable of doing so and I guess I wouldn't blame you. But right now, you aren't the only parent with a child at risk in this case and however much the police may have played fast and loose with your sons civil rights, they didn't put his life at risk, like happened to the young girl."
It was a bold move - basically tossing themselves on the mercy of Diane Evans - and the only things that he thought would make it work would be Diane's emotional need to respond to the threat to the girl and the fact that she of all people would have known that they'd of had no real chance of getting away with what they'd done to the boy had he actually spilled something - not with her in his corner. Alfred waited ... watching the emotions play out on Diane's face. Finally she spoke.
"May I ask who this young girl is that almost got shot?"
"Liz Parker,"replied Pembroke, just as Mariscal was about to remind Diane that they couldn't give out that sort of information. He was surprised to see the change in her face.
"I'm sure Max will cooperate with anything he knows about the shooting, Alehandro,...certainly I'll give you any help I can."
"You know Miss Parker?" asked Marisco.
"Yes," said Diane. "She's a client."
But in her heart she knew that Liz was more than that. She was the girl her son loved - and the girl that loved him. She was the girl that - if the world weren't sometimes such a fouled up place - would have someday been her daughter-in-law. Exactly how their lives had become so troubled she had no idea but a mother's intuition told her that those two belonged together. But Max had always kept some secret from her - something that always kept him from quite realizing and accepting how much he was loved - even by his parents. It sort of figured that would be involved in this too.
"Well then you ought to know, Max is one of the suspects in the shooting. Right now the only one," said Marisco.
"Well, then you do need help. If there's one thing I AM sure of it's that Max wouldn't do such a thing. Let me speak to him for a few minutes, then maybe we can all talk."
In fact, Deputy Branston looked like he'd just had his ass-roasted and the glare he was given Pembroke was a none-too-subtle indication about who he thought deserved the blame. At least the man gave him a nod of the head - as much as to acknowledge that he appreciated Mariscal being there to help, 'Or at least as an additional target to share the fire,' a small voice in his head told him. He fought to avoid wincing at that. It was rare to see Diane Evans angry in court, she was too good a lawyer to really need to actually be angry most of the time. Oh she could get emotional, particularly over domestic violence cases, but angry like she was now? Uh-uh. Pembroke had really stepped in it and the only way this wasn't going to be really ugly was to be conciliatory. Al Marisco just hoped that Deputy Pembroke would have the good sense to not open his mouth and put his foot in it.
"Well, Good afternoon, Diane."
The glare he got from her froze him in mid-step. Already he'd screwed up.
"Well, I don't suppose it's actually been that good an afternoon for you at that," Mariscal continued, trying not to wince at the very intensity of the look she was giving him. "I've been discussing the arrest of your son with Officer Pembroke here, and it's quite clear that some errors were made in his processing, and I'd like to express my regrets..."
"Errors WERE MADE! Al??? .....WERE MADE?" said Diane.
It was only after Marisco saw that Pembroke had backed off a step that he realized he'd done the same. Even Branston had rolled his chair back about nine inches - as much clearance as he had with the wall behind him.
"Don't you DARE use passive tense to me on this. Don't try to act like the 'errors' just happened - somebody made them - nor are they just 'errors' either. They are violations of state law - which you as an officer of the court ought to damn well know?"
"Diane, I realize that this looks bad...."
"Looks bad? It looks like a conspiracy to deny a person - a MINOR person - his rights under not only the laws of New Mexico, laws that you and THESE TWO officers have sworn to uphold, but FEDERAL criminal Law as well - since it seems apparent that this would be a conspiracy to obstruct the course of justice for my client - FOR MY SON - under 42 US Code section 1985(2) and the first part of section 1985(3)."
In fact Marisco did know what 42 USC 1985(2) was, he'd done a paper on it in law school. It was a Reconstruction era law designed to hold local local police officials accountable if they turned a blind eye to the workings of the Klan in the deep South. Diane had them dead-to-rights on the state charges but that was - at most - going to get them chewed out and perhaps the case - if any - against the Evans kid sanctioned by a local state judge. That would mean that any evidence Pembroke had thus far gathered against the Evans boy would certainly have to be thrown out. The federal statute was a more innovative threat. If she went through with it, there was at least a chance that Pembroke could actually go to jail for his actions - as could every officer who had known about his actions and not taken action himself to stop them. It was a bit of a stretch - but one Guerro actually wouldn't have bet against Diane Evans being to carry off. Besides, even if there was no criminal penalty against the officers, the law allowed civil action by the victim against the officers and the governmental body that employed them. This could cost the officers and the county a considerable sum to even fight and a whole lot more if they lost.
"Diane....what it looks like is that a young girl almost got shot last night, and in the search for the shooter some people got carried away. And as usual, some people don't know how to handle evidence and - well one thing lead to another and in a totally frustrating night and morning for a lot of people - good people - well intentioned people - well some of those people screwed up, OK? I'm sorry it happened to your kid, Hell I'm sorry it happened at all. Yes, we screwed up if that's what you want me to admit and there was really no excuse for it other than the fact that they got carried away with the emotions of the moment - which I KNOW law enforcement is not supposed to do....but they are just human beings you know, and all things considered it was probably better they did it with your son than anyone else because we both know that the chances of you actually letting them get away with it are non-existent. So OK, your son has been ill-treated and we owe him for that, and you are upset and deservedly so. But none of that changes the fact that a girl's life is in jeopardy here and we still need all the information that we can get to help her. I'm not asking you to forgive this and I sure don't expect you to forget it, but what I am asking is for your cooperation and the cooperation of your son in helping us to protect this young girl. If you want to sue the county or even hammer the people who did make those mistakes afterward - well you are certainly capable of doing so and I guess I wouldn't blame you. But right now, you aren't the only parent with a child at risk in this case and however much the police may have played fast and loose with your sons civil rights, they didn't put his life at risk, like happened to the young girl."
It was a bold move - basically tossing themselves on the mercy of Diane Evans - and the only things that he thought would make it work would be Diane's emotional need to respond to the threat to the girl and the fact that she of all people would have known that they'd of had no real chance of getting away with what they'd done to the boy had he actually spilled something - not with her in his corner. Alfred waited ... watching the emotions play out on Diane's face. Finally she spoke.
"May I ask who this young girl is that almost got shot?"
"Liz Parker,"replied Pembroke, just as Mariscal was about to remind Diane that they couldn't give out that sort of information. He was surprised to see the change in her face.
"I'm sure Max will cooperate with anything he knows about the shooting, Alehandro,...certainly I'll give you any help I can."
"You know Miss Parker?" asked Marisco.
"Yes," said Diane. "She's a client."
But in her heart she knew that Liz was more than that. She was the girl her son loved - and the girl that loved him. She was the girl that - if the world weren't sometimes such a fouled up place - would have someday been her daughter-in-law. Exactly how their lives had become so troubled she had no idea but a mother's intuition told her that those two belonged together. But Max had always kept some secret from her - something that always kept him from quite realizing and accepting how much he was loved - even by his parents. It sort of figured that would be involved in this too.
"Well then you ought to know, Max is one of the suspects in the shooting. Right now the only one," said Marisco.
"Well, then you do need help. If there's one thing I AM sure of it's that Max wouldn't do such a thing. Let me speak to him for a few minutes, then maybe we can all talk."
Last edited by greywolf on Thu Aug 05, 2010 9:58 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 08/02/2010
Ten minutes later, Diane was in an interview room awaiting her son. It was a private conversation. She'd seen the look that Alfred Guerro had given Deputy Pembroke - as much as telling him that if he were even to think of violating lawyer client privacy he was going to end up wishing that he - Deputy Pembroke - had never been born. She heard the click of the door and looked up as Guerro and Pembroke ushered Max in the door and then turned around and left.
Diane hugged her son tightly, "Max, are you OK?"
OK? OK was a relative term. But Liz had already had her 'procedure,' so thankfully she was going to be safe now. She'd have to live with the memory of what he'd one to her - and what she'd had to go through in consequence - but at least she WOULD live. That was something, anyway. Of course, that was not what his mother wanted to hear.
"I'm fine, Mom."
"Max,... do you know what this is all about?"
"They said something about finding a gun in my locker... and ammunition in the Jeep. But that's crazy, Mom. I don't own a gun - except for that old 22 Dad gave me, and I sure wouldn't take a gun to school in any event. Besides, Izzy drove in with me. There wasn't any ammunition in the Jeep when we parked it."
"It's about more than that, Max. Somebody took a shot at a teenage girl last night - and the caliber of the firearm was the same as the one they claim to have found in your locker. That's why the deputies might have gotten a little bit overly aggressive with you."
"Mom, I wouldn't shoot at anyone - you know that. Does this girl claim she saw me?"
"No, in fact she's very insistent that it couldn't have been you, not that she could have possibly known at that distance. In fact, I got the feeling that one of the reasons the police were particularly concerned about you was that she thought that the girl might have been - well, I guess you'd say protecting you."
"Protecting me?"
"The girl is Liz Parker, Max."
Diane watched the stunned look on Max's face.
"Mom I never would hurt....."
He got that much out before it all came flooding back to him. What he had started to say was a lie. He had hurt her - way back when he'd refused to have any relationship with her because he knew she cared about him and he cared to much for her to let her trap herself in a relationship with someone who wasn't normal - wasn't even human. He had hurt her because he didn't want to hurt her even worse when she found out the truth. But even so, he HAD hurt her worse.... he'd done something terrible to her and she had only just gone and had the procedure that would even allow her life to continue.
But what did it matter? His whole life as a lie. He had been lying to his mom almost from the very beginning. He looked in to her eyes and the pain and longing in his heart hit again. She was a kind and loving woman. He just wished she'd had the children - her own children - normal children - that she deserved. He did love her - and he always would. He just wished that he deserved her love.
'Hell, as long as you are wishing, Max, wish that you really were her son - that you were normal - and that you could love Liz and she could love you....'
"Mom, I didn't shoot at Liz. I would never do that..." he finally got out.
It wasn't just the years as a lawyer in the courtroom that caused Diane to notice the hesitation and the change in Max's statement, it was the years of knowing Max too. Diane didn't understand what it was that would suddenly insert itself into some situations with Max - what secret made him suddenly try to hold the world and the people in it at arm's length when he was speaking about things that he really seemed to care about. Sometimes she thought Isabel knew - certainly Izzie could read her brother in other ways - but on this Diane wasn't even sure that she understood whatever drove Max when that look of pain and longing would pass across his face. Or maybe she did - maybe she just hid it better. But Max was lying to her - oh not lying - but not telling the whole truth anyway - and she needed the whole truth - now more than ever - if she was going to be able to help him. She took a stab in the dark - wondering even as she said it if it wouldn't explain an awful lot....
"Max, is Liz carrying your baby?"
"No, Mom. She isn't."
It wasn't a lie - not really. For one thing, a monster isn't really a baby. Besides, she'd gotten rid of it when she had the procedure. That didn't get rid of the pain he had given her - the memory of his attack upon her that would no doubt give her nightmares - him too most likely - for the rest of their lives. 'But at least Liz will live, and maybe someday she'll find happiness with someone - normal...'
"OK, then Max - tell me where you were and what you were doing last night," Diane asked, her eyes on his face even while her hand gripped the pen and started writing on the legal pad.
Diane hugged her son tightly, "Max, are you OK?"
OK? OK was a relative term. But Liz had already had her 'procedure,' so thankfully she was going to be safe now. She'd have to live with the memory of what he'd one to her - and what she'd had to go through in consequence - but at least she WOULD live. That was something, anyway. Of course, that was not what his mother wanted to hear.
"I'm fine, Mom."
"Max,... do you know what this is all about?"
"They said something about finding a gun in my locker... and ammunition in the Jeep. But that's crazy, Mom. I don't own a gun - except for that old 22 Dad gave me, and I sure wouldn't take a gun to school in any event. Besides, Izzy drove in with me. There wasn't any ammunition in the Jeep when we parked it."
"It's about more than that, Max. Somebody took a shot at a teenage girl last night - and the caliber of the firearm was the same as the one they claim to have found in your locker. That's why the deputies might have gotten a little bit overly aggressive with you."
"Mom, I wouldn't shoot at anyone - you know that. Does this girl claim she saw me?"
"No, in fact she's very insistent that it couldn't have been you, not that she could have possibly known at that distance. In fact, I got the feeling that one of the reasons the police were particularly concerned about you was that she thought that the girl might have been - well, I guess you'd say protecting you."
"Protecting me?"
"The girl is Liz Parker, Max."
Diane watched the stunned look on Max's face.
"Mom I never would hurt....."
He got that much out before it all came flooding back to him. What he had started to say was a lie. He had hurt her - way back when he'd refused to have any relationship with her because he knew she cared about him and he cared to much for her to let her trap herself in a relationship with someone who wasn't normal - wasn't even human. He had hurt her because he didn't want to hurt her even worse when she found out the truth. But even so, he HAD hurt her worse.... he'd done something terrible to her and she had only just gone and had the procedure that would even allow her life to continue.
But what did it matter? His whole life as a lie. He had been lying to his mom almost from the very beginning. He looked in to her eyes and the pain and longing in his heart hit again. She was a kind and loving woman. He just wished she'd had the children - her own children - normal children - that she deserved. He did love her - and he always would. He just wished that he deserved her love.
'Hell, as long as you are wishing, Max, wish that you really were her son - that you were normal - and that you could love Liz and she could love you....'
"Mom, I didn't shoot at Liz. I would never do that..." he finally got out.
It wasn't just the years as a lawyer in the courtroom that caused Diane to notice the hesitation and the change in Max's statement, it was the years of knowing Max too. Diane didn't understand what it was that would suddenly insert itself into some situations with Max - what secret made him suddenly try to hold the world and the people in it at arm's length when he was speaking about things that he really seemed to care about. Sometimes she thought Isabel knew - certainly Izzie could read her brother in other ways - but on this Diane wasn't even sure that she understood whatever drove Max when that look of pain and longing would pass across his face. Or maybe she did - maybe she just hid it better. But Max was lying to her - oh not lying - but not telling the whole truth anyway - and she needed the whole truth - now more than ever - if she was going to be able to help him. She took a stab in the dark - wondering even as she said it if it wouldn't explain an awful lot....
"Max, is Liz carrying your baby?"
"No, Mom. She isn't."
It wasn't a lie - not really. For one thing, a monster isn't really a baby. Besides, she'd gotten rid of it when she had the procedure. That didn't get rid of the pain he had given her - the memory of his attack upon her that would no doubt give her nightmares - him too most likely - for the rest of their lives. 'But at least Liz will live, and maybe someday she'll find happiness with someone - normal...'
"OK, then Max - tell me where you were and what you were doing last night," Diane asked, her eyes on his face even while her hand gripped the pen and started writing on the legal pad.
Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 08/03/2010
"OK son," said Alehandro Mariscal, "I'm going to put this recorder on and it will be running throughout the interview. Once this interview is done we will be having the court reporter type it up and you'll have a chance to read it and make corrections before you sign it. You have been read your Miranda rights and I am stating for the record that you have a parent here who also happens to be a lawyer who has given her consent for this interview. I would caution you that - while you do have a right to remain silent - any questions you do answer must be answered truthfully or you expose yourself to an additional charge of obstruction of justice. At any time in this interview you may request a halt to the proceedings for the purpose of privately consulting with your lawyer. Do you understand what I have just explained to you, son?"
"Yes, I do," replied Max.
"Then please state your name for the record."
"Maxwell Evans..."
"We'd like to know where you were last night - from around dinner time until midnight," said Deputy Pembroke, taking over the questioning.
"Mostly I just walked around town," said Max. He wasn't going to tell Pembroke that he'd actually felt compelled to go see Liz - from a distance - from the top of the old museum. That would have gotten in to why he felt compelled to do that which would have revealed what he had actually done to Liz. It wasn't for himself really - although concern for Isabel was a factor - what it was mostly was - well he'd hurt Liz enough. ven now that she'd had the procedure, she'd carry the memory of that terrible night with her for the rest of her life. No, if it were just him he'd have told the police the whole damn thing - every little bit of it - even the not of this Earth part. He deserved whatever punishment he got. They could lock him up in some laboratory and experiment on him - it would be no better than he deserved - if it wasn't that the three most important women in his life would be devastated by the truth getting out.
Max looked sideways at his mother. No one knew any better than him how hard she'd tried to make him feel at home here. It wasn't her fault that she'd failed - he'd never told her how different he was and she sure didn't need to find out like this.
Isabel was another issue. Izzy hadn't done anything wrong, but if people knew what he was and what he did - well Isabel would be judged by his actions. Even if she wasn't locked up, she could never have anything like a normal life. The alien sister of an alien rapist and would-be killer. Even if he managed to convince people that he couldn't stop himself from doing it that wouldn't help Izzy. That would just raise the issue of what irresistible antisocial acts she might commit. No, he couldn't spill his story without hurting Isabel.
But the biggest reason was Liz. He'd hurt her - defiled her - forced her to go through surgery to remove the evil he'd planted in her. At least now she'd live, but she'd live with the terrible memories he'd caused her. He wasn't going to make it worse by having her become a worldwide object of curiosity. She'd need her privacy to heal.
"Have you ever been to the old feed lot on Charles street?"
"I may have walked by there, but I've never been inside the fence."
"Never? You are sure of that?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever seen this rifle - for the record, that would be a Weatherby Varmintmaster in caliber 244 Magnum, serial number 22844?"
"No I haven't."
"Do you have any explanation for how it came to be found in your locker?"
"Allegedly found in his locker," said Diane.
"Allegedly found in your locker," said Pembroke, looking irritated.
"No I don't."
"Was it there on Friday when you locked your locker?"
"And have you ever seen these cartridges that were found in your jeep?"
"That were allegedly found in his jeep," corrected Diane, again.
"Allegedly found in your jeep then," said Pembroke.
"No I haven't."
"You did notice that they are the correct cartridges for this rifle? Don't you find that a rather odd coincidence," asked Deputy Pembroke.
"Officer, I agreed to let my son due this to help you for the sake of Elizabeth Parker. If you insist on badgering my son, this interview will be terminated."
"I've never seen the rifle and I've never seen the gun, OK?" said Max.
"At anytime over this weekend did you enter the premises of West Roswell High School, Mr. Evans."
Of course he had - but not to stash any rifle in his locker. He'd gone there to think - to remember when his life didn't totally suck. When they'd just been lab partners - friends - working together. Except he couldn't tell them that. That would lead to questions like 'why does your life suck' and 'where is the key that you used to get into the building?' Saying he'd just used his alien powers would bring the whole works crashing down on everyone - especially Liz.
"No, I didn't," said Max.
"Mr. Evans, can you tell me what your relationship is with Miss Elizabeth Parker?"
"We used to be lab partners - last year that is."
"Lab partners? No more than that?"
"No more than that," Max lied. Not until that terrible night. He'd wanted to be more - actually had made himself believe that she had WANTED him to be more - probably would have given his very soul to be more - if he'd only been human - really human.
With his mother at his side the questioning went on for almost ninety minutes. Finally the last question was answered and Alehandro Mariscal looked at Diane and nodded. "We'll get this typed up and I'll bring it by to get your son's signature. Until then though, we'll release him into your custody."
"I think we ought to...," started Pembroke, but he was silenced by an icy stare from the Assistant DA. "I think we'll release you into your mother's custody, Maxwell, but understand this... we are going to have you under surveillance until this is all settled."
"Yes, I do," replied Max.
"Then please state your name for the record."
"Maxwell Evans..."
"We'd like to know where you were last night - from around dinner time until midnight," said Deputy Pembroke, taking over the questioning.
"Mostly I just walked around town," said Max. He wasn't going to tell Pembroke that he'd actually felt compelled to go see Liz - from a distance - from the top of the old museum. That would have gotten in to why he felt compelled to do that which would have revealed what he had actually done to Liz. It wasn't for himself really - although concern for Isabel was a factor - what it was mostly was - well he'd hurt Liz enough. ven now that she'd had the procedure, she'd carry the memory of that terrible night with her for the rest of her life. No, if it were just him he'd have told the police the whole damn thing - every little bit of it - even the not of this Earth part. He deserved whatever punishment he got. They could lock him up in some laboratory and experiment on him - it would be no better than he deserved - if it wasn't that the three most important women in his life would be devastated by the truth getting out.
Max looked sideways at his mother. No one knew any better than him how hard she'd tried to make him feel at home here. It wasn't her fault that she'd failed - he'd never told her how different he was and she sure didn't need to find out like this.
Isabel was another issue. Izzy hadn't done anything wrong, but if people knew what he was and what he did - well Isabel would be judged by his actions. Even if she wasn't locked up, she could never have anything like a normal life. The alien sister of an alien rapist and would-be killer. Even if he managed to convince people that he couldn't stop himself from doing it that wouldn't help Izzy. That would just raise the issue of what irresistible antisocial acts she might commit. No, he couldn't spill his story without hurting Isabel.
But the biggest reason was Liz. He'd hurt her - defiled her - forced her to go through surgery to remove the evil he'd planted in her. At least now she'd live, but she'd live with the terrible memories he'd caused her. He wasn't going to make it worse by having her become a worldwide object of curiosity. She'd need her privacy to heal.
"Have you ever been to the old feed lot on Charles street?"
"I may have walked by there, but I've never been inside the fence."
"Never? You are sure of that?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever seen this rifle - for the record, that would be a Weatherby Varmintmaster in caliber 244 Magnum, serial number 22844?"
"No I haven't."
"Do you have any explanation for how it came to be found in your locker?"
"Allegedly found in his locker," said Diane.
"Allegedly found in your locker," said Pembroke, looking irritated.
"No I don't."
"Was it there on Friday when you locked your locker?"
"And have you ever seen these cartridges that were found in your jeep?"
"That were allegedly found in his jeep," corrected Diane, again.
"Allegedly found in your jeep then," said Pembroke.
"No I haven't."
"You did notice that they are the correct cartridges for this rifle? Don't you find that a rather odd coincidence," asked Deputy Pembroke.
"Officer, I agreed to let my son due this to help you for the sake of Elizabeth Parker. If you insist on badgering my son, this interview will be terminated."
"I've never seen the rifle and I've never seen the gun, OK?" said Max.
"At anytime over this weekend did you enter the premises of West Roswell High School, Mr. Evans."
Of course he had - but not to stash any rifle in his locker. He'd gone there to think - to remember when his life didn't totally suck. When they'd just been lab partners - friends - working together. Except he couldn't tell them that. That would lead to questions like 'why does your life suck' and 'where is the key that you used to get into the building?' Saying he'd just used his alien powers would bring the whole works crashing down on everyone - especially Liz.
"No, I didn't," said Max.
"Mr. Evans, can you tell me what your relationship is with Miss Elizabeth Parker?"
"We used to be lab partners - last year that is."
"Lab partners? No more than that?"
"No more than that," Max lied. Not until that terrible night. He'd wanted to be more - actually had made himself believe that she had WANTED him to be more - probably would have given his very soul to be more - if he'd only been human - really human.
With his mother at his side the questioning went on for almost ninety minutes. Finally the last question was answered and Alehandro Mariscal looked at Diane and nodded. "We'll get this typed up and I'll bring it by to get your son's signature. Until then though, we'll release him into your custody."
"I think we ought to...," started Pembroke, but he was silenced by an icy stare from the Assistant DA. "I think we'll release you into your mother's custody, Maxwell, but understand this... we are going to have you under surveillance until this is all settled."
Last edited by greywolf on Thu Aug 05, 2010 10:01 pm, edited 1 time in total.