Death and Chaos in Court

***This is a Crossover between: Criminal Minds/Law & Order***

Law & Order and its characters are the property of Dick Wolf. The characters of Jacob, Malcolm and Mrs. Herlihy are mine.

Chapter 1

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?" the judge asked looking in the direction of the jury box.

'We have, your Honor," the forewoman replied, standing, and unfolding the paper held in her hands. "We find the defendant, Jacob Herlihy, guilty."

Executive Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy and his associate, Abby Carmichael who occupied the second chair, exchanged looks and grinned. To them, it was not only a victory for the prosecution, but a cop killer was off the street.

McCoy looked back over his shoulder and nodded at Detectives Lennie Briscoe and Rey Curtis who were approaching the prosecution's table while the onlookers who sat in the gallery were leaving the courtroom now that the case was over and the verdict rendered.

"Nice job, Counselor," Curtis commented watching the two attorneys get to their feet. "To be honest, I didn't think you would get a conviction despite this guy having killed a cop. There wasn't really much evidence proving it."

"I'm more than just a handsome face, Detective," McCoy replied with a grin. "Also, Abby and I know how to prosecute a case," he added sarcastically but with a touch of humor. He began shoveling papers into his briefcase.

Briscoe chuckled. "Regardless, scratch one cop killer," he said. "I feel like celebrating. Anybody care to join me for a celebratory glass of club soda?" he asked. "I'm buying." Being a recovering alcoholic, Briscoe had been sober for at least twelve years. But he never forbid anybody else from enjoying alcohol when they were out with him.

"Maybe next time," McCoy said as he grabbed his briefcase. It was then that all hell broke loose when gunfire erupted. As people ducked or ran for cover, Curtis and Briscoe immediately drew their weapons and began squeezing through the screaming mob of panic-stricken people all fighting to get away from the gunfire.

Abby dropped to her knees behind the table as McCoy fell hard against it before he hit the floor landing on his back beside her, his briefcase on its side next to him. She saw blood running down the side of his head and feared he had been shot in the head. It was then she spotted blood pooling beneath him, and realized he had been hit at least twice. She crept forward, gently pressed two fingers against his throat, and breathed a sigh of relief at finding a heartbeat, although weak and thready. His breathing was shallow.

"Jack?!" she called as she shook his shoulder and getting no response. "Jack!" Abby shook his shoulder a second time and again got no response.

So oblivious to the goings on around her, Abby hadn't realized the gunfire had stopped until she became aware of Briscoe kneeling beside her.

"Is he alive?" he asked while holstering his weapon, worry evident in his voice and on his face.

"Why doesn't he open his eyes, Lennie?" she answered in a thick voice, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Why doesn't….?" She couldn't finish.

"Hey…" Briscoe gently touched her arm. "Look at me. McCoy's tough. He'll make it through this and be all right."

The ADA looked up when she noticed Curtis's presence. The younger man knelt beside his partner.

"I called for an ambulance before I came back in here," he said. "They should be here in a few minutes. How is he?"

"He's alive but just barely," Lennie explained grimly. He gestured with his head toward the open courtroom doors. "Anything?"

Curtis was grim. "There was no sign of any shooter or shooters. And nobody was carrying a weapon on 'em except security," he explained. "But I have security keep everybody who was in the courtroom in the hall until we can question them individually. Nobody's being allowed to leave." Abby stared at the young detective as two EMTs hurried towards them.

In the ICU, Adam Schiff sat in the hard, uncomfortable, plastic chair beside the bed on which McCoy lay, unconscious, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. He was hooked up to a heart monitor with IV wires running everywhere. There was also a pressure bandage wrapped around his head, a small bloodstain visible on his temple. He was extremely pale from blood loss and lay still, eyes closed.

In fact, if it hadn't been for the continuous beeping of the heart monitor, Schiff would've believed McCoy dead.

His sad eyes studied the face of the man he considered a son despite not being related by blood. He didn't react when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"He'll be all right, Adam," said Carmichael standing just behind him. She had accompanied McCoy to the hospital, and called District Attorney Adam Schiff after Jack had been rushed into surgery.

"Will he?" Schiff replied, eyes fixated on Jack. "Right now the doctors can't promise that. They can't even promise he'll survive." He gripped the younger man's hand and gently squeezed it. "I'd feel better about things if he would at least open his eyes and say something. Tell me to stop hovering over him."

"So would I," Abby said softly as she stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes now focused on Schiff. "But until that happens, we can at least take solace in knowing that he wasn't shot in the head."

Schiff's eyes looked up at Carmichael briefly. "Small comfort," he muttered. "He was shot in the back and is in a coma. And according to the doctors, the bullet nicked his spinal cord. He's paralyzed from the waist down. Whether it's temporary or permanent they don't know yet. They also don't know if he'll survive. He could die without ever regaining consciousness." His eyes hardened. "I want this bastard arrested and prosecuted. We don't rest until this creep is strapped to a gurney with a needle in his arm. Do I make myself clear?" He maintained his harsh glare.

Abby didn't respond as she knew there would be no arguing with Schiff regarding this situation. "I'm going to head to the 27th Precinct and speak with Lt. Van Buren and see if there's anything new." She got to her feet. "Any messages?"

Schiff's eyes went back to McCoy's still form. "Yes." His eyes misted over and his lower lip quivered. "Tell them to say a prayer."

Lt. Anita Van Buren, head of the detective squad at the 27th Precinct, stood behind her desk in her office with arms folded across her chest. She stared at her two best men; senior detective Lennie Briscoe and his junior partner Reynaldo aka Rey Curtis.

"You're telling me that nobody saw anything before or after the shooting?"

"We spoke with everybody who was there, L.T.," Briscoe explained. "Nobody saw anything before or after. Or if they did, nobody admitted to it."

"Besides questioning everybody who was present in the courtroom, we also spoke with the Defense Attorneys, the Court Stenographer, members of the jury, the alternate jurors, even the judge presiding over the case," Curtis added. "Nobody heard anything or saw anybody with a gun. It's like the shooter vanished into thin air."

Van Buren shook her head, frustrated. "Nobody just vanishes in thin air." Her eyes narrowed into thin slits as a thought came to her. "Did anybody in the courtroom have a connection to the defendant, Jacob Herlihy? Maybe someone didn't like the guilty verdict?"

"We thought so too," Briscoe said. "Turns out Herlihy's son, Malcolm, was there. He believed 'dear old dad' was innocent, and threatened to get McCoy more than once. Claimed the counselor hid evidence that would've exonerated his dad. Other than the son, nobody else stands out."

"Does he have an alibi for the time of the shooting?"

"Not unless you count being on his cell phone in the hallway outside the courtroom talking to mommy dearest at the time as an alibi," added Lennie.

Van Buren nodded as the information ran through her mind as she imagined the phone call between mother and son.

"'Hello, mom…just wanted to call and tell you the job's done. I killed Jack McCoy.'"

"What about his mother? From what I remember, she also held a grudge against McCoy as well."

"True," Curtis replied. "According to sonny-boy, mom was there throughout the trial, but was too upset to hear the verdict so she left right after closing arguments and went home."

"Any proof she actually left the courthouse and returned home?"

"Not yet," Briscoe said. "Of course she could have hung around until after receiving the phone call from her son telling her the job was done, and then went home."

Van Buren sat on the edge of her desk. "Not that I'm defending either of them," she said. "But why wait until after the verdict is delivered to shoot the prosecuting attorney? Why not before the trial begins? That would have, at least, delayed the trial a bit. Seems to me if they wanted to stop McCoy the best way would be to produce evidence that would have proven dear old dad innocent."

Lennie and Curtis exchanged looks. "Maybe they figured this way was quicker," Curtis said. "This way if it ended in a mistrial, McCoy wouldn't be able to retry Herlihy."

"Quicker but not necessarily smarter if you ask me. Look, considering how quickly this thing went down, McCoy's shooting appears to have been planned."

But before anybody could say anything more, the door of Van Buren's office opened and Abby Carmichael walked in, closing the door behind her. The trio looked at her with sympathy in their eyes. The Assistant DA looked stressed out and emotional.

"Abby, we are so, so sorry," Van Buren said sincerely. "How are you? Are you all right?"

"I'm okay physically. Still a bit shaken after what happened."

"That's understandable. How's McCoy?"

Carmichael let out a deep breath. "Not good. He lost a lot of blood and is in a coma. The doctors aren't sure when, or even if, he'll wake up, or whether he'll die without regaining consciousness. Right now his chances of survival are at best 50-50. The only good news is that he didn't get shot in the head. Looks like he struck his head on the table after he'd been shot. But the bullet to his lower back nicked his spinal cord." She paused and swallowed hard. "If he survives, he could be permanently paralyzed from the waist down. The doctors won't know for certain until the swelling goes down. Right now it's pretty much touch and go."

There were collected gasps from Briscoe, Curtis, and Van Buren as the information sank in. Despite having had their problems with McCoy over the occasional case, they considered the attorney a good and close friend.

Van Buren was horrified. Everybody knew McCoy as a workaholic and a constant bundle of energy. To have him die would be difficult enough to accept, but to have him survive and be permanently paralyzed was not something she and the officers of the 27th could fathom. "Is there anything we can do in the meanwhile?" she asked.

"Pray," Abby said.

"We've been doing that since this happened."

Abby sighed. "Thanks. Where are you regarding the investigation?"

The detectives repeated what they had told their boss minutes earlier.

"Don't let up on Herlihy," Carmichael said. "Right now he and his mother are the only links we have to what happened."

"That's the plan," said Van Buren. "We're not overlooking anything. But there is one thing you can do to help with the investigation."

"Which is?"

"We need to check McCoy's convictions since he's been with the DA's office. Somebody other than Herlihy's wife and kid could have done this."

Carmichael sighed. "He's sent a lot of people to prison. We're talking about a lot of suspects."

Van Buren understood. "I know. But as I said, we're not overlooking anything."

"I'll make sure you get it. Also, if you need extra help, let me know. We can let you have about twelve investigators from the office to help as volunteers at no charge to the police department. Mr. Schiff wants this person found and arrested and isn't going to be patient."

Van Buren sat down behind her desk. "Understood. And if we need help I'll call you. But right now just get us those files."

"Will do. And both Mr. Schiff and I wish to be kept informed morning and evening."

"You got it."

Abby opened the door and started to leave.

"Give the counselor our best," Lennie advised quietly.

"I will."

"Lennie and I will visit when we have a chance," Curtis added.

"He'd like that," Abby said with a small smile. She exited the office leaving the three cops alone. Lennie let out a deep breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"My God," Briscoe muttered with a head shake. "In the beginning I had no idea McCoy was injured that badly. I thought maybe he had just hit his head on the table when he went down."

"I don't think any of us did," Van Buren added. "Makes it all the more imperative that we find this bastard and the sooner the better."

Curtis ran a hand over his dark hair. "Right now it's only attempted murder. I pray it doesn't become murder by the time we find this guy."

It was a thought that ran through everybody's mind and nobody wanted to say out loud.

After they left the precinct, Briscoe and Curtis drove from Manhattan to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. On Van Buren's orders, they were going to question Malcolm Herlihy and his mother again. It was agreed these two were the prime suspects into the attempted murder of Jack McCoy.

The car ride was silent as both detectives were lost in their own thoughts. Being a cop brought with it the knowledge that sometimes one had to investigate a crime involving somebody you knew or at least were familiar with. But this case was different to them. This case struck at their very core.

Jack McCoy was more than just a District Attorney to the police. He not only prosecuted the suspects they arrested, but did all he could to make sure the guilty never saw the light of day. Also, he was a very close friend who did his job and didn't deserve what was done to him because of it. And to be shot in the back made it ten times worse. It was a coward's way.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, Briscoe eased the car around the corner and continued down the street. He knew they were nearing their destination.

"I'm tellin' you something right now, Rey," he said coldly, eyes straight ahead. "If Herlihy shot the counselor, I can't promise he'll make it to trial."

Curtis glanced sideways then looked straight ahead again. "I understand how you feel, I really do, because I feel the same way. But McCoy wouldn't want that. Even if he dies, he'd still want this guy strapped to a gurney with a needle in his arm, and you know it. He wouldn't want you to destroy your career because of him."

Briscoe let out a deep breath. "I know, I know. But I keep seeing McCoy laying on the floor in the courtroom, and I have to wonder if it's worth it to take Herlihy alive. Why not just end him right now and call it a day. Nobody need ever know."

"And just what are you gonna do if he lives with his mother? You gonna off her too?"

Briscoe swallowed hard. "Okay, you made your point." He parked the car outside the address of their suspect and sat in the car for a few minutes.

"We gotta play this by the rules, Lennie," Curtis said. "McCoy wouldn't want it any other way. We owe it to 'im to do it by the book." He opened the front passenger-side door.

"What can I say," Lennie replied as he exited the driver's side. "When you're right, you're right. But just to make sure, if Malcolm gets out-of-hand, you handle 'im. I wouldn't trust myself."

That said, the two detectives mounted the stairs and Briscoe pressed the door buzzer, and they waited.