Title: Grissom's retiring
Genre: Angst
Disclaimer: Don't we all want to own CSI?
Rating: G
Summary: After CSI Grissom delved into the mind of Diazien Hossencofft, an
Ed Gein-type character, (Diazien committed the mercy killing of his mother,
then, became a mommy-fixated necrophiliac) Grissom starts to see horrific
images and he wonders if he should retire.
Note: Diazien Hossencofft is the name of a real person and he did commit
crimes though not similar to the crimes mentioned here. Look him up on the
Internet, he will be found easily. His case is very intriguing and unique.
Grissom stared into Diazien's eyes. The egomaniac, necrophiliac Diazien smirked at Grissom like he had no worries in the world. He ran his fingers through his hair. Diazien, who before he was caught was a slick attorney, said, "Have you ever noticed that when someone kills, it is the highest high of their lives. You don't need drugs to achieve this. This is better than that. Why don't you try it?" His oily voice had no trouble pronouncing any of he words; they rolled off his tongue. He half closed his eyes in tiredness. Exasperation about why this CSI was questioning him again. He tugged on his red high-risk prisoner uniform. "High risk? Me high risk? Never!" He said to Grissom. "I'll do you favour if you do me one."
Grissom cocked his head, "What?" He was very stern with this sicko who had, in exchange for his testimony had been taken off death row. Grissom was very used to the petty criminal, but when he came face-to-face with the repeat offender with very serious crimes, he had no tolerance.
"Get this red prisoner uniform off me and I will tell you about the murder of my wife. I want an orange uniform. I want to mingle with the commoners." They way Diazien said mingle made Grissom shudder. That was the final straw in this five-hour interrogation. Grissom snapped. He slammed his hands on the table "You sick pervert. Brass, take him back to his holding cell." Brass pulled the man out of his seat. As Brass removed the man from the room, Diazien stopped, "You won't forget me for the rest of your life. I have made a lasting imprint on you." Grissom cursed under his breath and restrained himself from shoving the man. He watched Brass take Diazien to his prison cell and went out to the parking lot. He laid his head on his Tahoe and sighed. The felt a presence near him and jerked his head up. "Sara." He said. He swallowed. "What's up?" Sara said. She placed her hand on Grissom's back in a motherly- way. "I don't know. I think it's time I retire. I'm too old for this stuff. That- -that man is." Grissom bit his lip. "sick." "No, Grissom. If I said that, you would tell me he was unique or some crap. But, I do agree with you.He's very sick, and he is not the type of person you need to talk to for five hours straight. No, Grissom, you need a good influence on your life. Go to the park and watch the children or something. Go on.I'll cover for you." "Thanks Sara. I'll be back in an hour." Grissom climbed in to his SUV, and drove to his favorite Rolla coaster. He strapped himself in. As the Rolla coaster went, Grissom thought deeply. He reflected on himself. He looked downward into his heart. To retire or not to retire? He loved his work; he loved the people he worked with. Yet, he could not fathom what Diazien had said to him over the period of five hours. The horror the women had inflicted on them. Grissom could only imagine what kind of stuff had been found in Diazien's farmhouse. Skull bowls, people lampshades. Only God knew the ultimate punishment Diazien would endure. Death was Grissom's life, and he knew it. He could not retire. Death is messy, yes, but it is very rewarding when you crack a big case. Grissom had made up his mind by the time the Rolla coaster had stopped. He returned to work.
Grissom stared into Diazien's eyes. The egomaniac, necrophiliac Diazien smirked at Grissom like he had no worries in the world. He ran his fingers through his hair. Diazien, who before he was caught was a slick attorney, said, "Have you ever noticed that when someone kills, it is the highest high of their lives. You don't need drugs to achieve this. This is better than that. Why don't you try it?" His oily voice had no trouble pronouncing any of he words; they rolled off his tongue. He half closed his eyes in tiredness. Exasperation about why this CSI was questioning him again. He tugged on his red high-risk prisoner uniform. "High risk? Me high risk? Never!" He said to Grissom. "I'll do you favour if you do me one."
Grissom cocked his head, "What?" He was very stern with this sicko who had, in exchange for his testimony had been taken off death row. Grissom was very used to the petty criminal, but when he came face-to-face with the repeat offender with very serious crimes, he had no tolerance.
"Get this red prisoner uniform off me and I will tell you about the murder of my wife. I want an orange uniform. I want to mingle with the commoners." They way Diazien said mingle made Grissom shudder. That was the final straw in this five-hour interrogation. Grissom snapped. He slammed his hands on the table "You sick pervert. Brass, take him back to his holding cell." Brass pulled the man out of his seat. As Brass removed the man from the room, Diazien stopped, "You won't forget me for the rest of your life. I have made a lasting imprint on you." Grissom cursed under his breath and restrained himself from shoving the man. He watched Brass take Diazien to his prison cell and went out to the parking lot. He laid his head on his Tahoe and sighed. The felt a presence near him and jerked his head up. "Sara." He said. He swallowed. "What's up?" Sara said. She placed her hand on Grissom's back in a motherly- way. "I don't know. I think it's time I retire. I'm too old for this stuff. That- -that man is." Grissom bit his lip. "sick." "No, Grissom. If I said that, you would tell me he was unique or some crap. But, I do agree with you.He's very sick, and he is not the type of person you need to talk to for five hours straight. No, Grissom, you need a good influence on your life. Go to the park and watch the children or something. Go on.I'll cover for you." "Thanks Sara. I'll be back in an hour." Grissom climbed in to his SUV, and drove to his favorite Rolla coaster. He strapped himself in. As the Rolla coaster went, Grissom thought deeply. He reflected on himself. He looked downward into his heart. To retire or not to retire? He loved his work; he loved the people he worked with. Yet, he could not fathom what Diazien had said to him over the period of five hours. The horror the women had inflicted on them. Grissom could only imagine what kind of stuff had been found in Diazien's farmhouse. Skull bowls, people lampshades. Only God knew the ultimate punishment Diazien would endure. Death was Grissom's life, and he knew it. He could not retire. Death is messy, yes, but it is very rewarding when you crack a big case. Grissom had made up his mind by the time the Rolla coaster had stopped. He returned to work.