"She didn't plan on anybody getting killed, so we can't."
After staring at him for a minute, Abbie had given up and headed off in the opposite direction. Jack watched her go, not making any action to stop her. He could understand her frustration. Valerie Grace had gaslighted her husband into believing she'd had an affair with one of the members of their 'seminars'. In response, he blew up a helicopter with the man and five other people on board. He was going to prison, rightfully so, for those murders. Valerie belonged in prison as well, but there was nothing Jack could do about that. So, he did what he always did when a good job wasn't enough, he drank.
Hours later, the DA's office was empty, as one by one the ADAs went home to families, lovers, four-legged companions, or maybe nothing at all. Jack sat alone in his office, her words still echoing in his head.
"He always wanted more...more attention, more power, more women."
"So, why did you want us to spare your husband the death penalty?" As usual, Abbie asked a good question. It was one Jack was curious about.
"Because, he's going to be sitting very quietly for a very long time and know that there isn't going to be any more."
Jack held no sympathy for Elias Grace. The man was a con artist, a fraud, and a murderer. He held none for Valerie Grace, either. She'd willingly withstood her husband's abuse, biding her time, until she could use his own faults to undo him. It was a cliched revenge fantasy with a modern twist, and undoubtedly replayed a hundred times a week in the criminal court system of New York. He looked at his half-empty glass of scotch, downed it, and poured another. The knock at the door came as a surprise to him, even more so when Abbie walked in.
"Abbie, I thought you went home."
"Nope." She dropped a stack of papers on his desk. "I was doing research on these little seminars and the Graces. That woman creeps me out."
"And?"
"What do you tell me, Jack? Follow the money." Abbie smirked, obviously pleased with herself. "It seems the Graces haven't exactly been studious in paying their taxes."
He quirked a brow, eyeing her closely. "Tax evasion, Abbie?"
"It's how they got Capone, Jack, and trust me.." Abbie's smirk grew wider. "Valerie Grace is no Capone."
He nodded. "Good job." Reaching into the drawer, he poured another glass of scotch, holding it out for her to take. She did, holding it up.
Satisfied, he raised his glass in a toast. "To Capone.." Abbie looked at him quizzically, before raising her own glass. "To Capone.."
It wasn't a murder indictment, but it was something. Some days, that's the best you could do.