In memory of Steven Hill
It had been expected, yet…
Not…
Adam Schiff had lived a long time.
Ninety-four years.
When Adam's oldest daughter had called Jack McCoy to tell him the news, he had sat there, numb with shock, in the very same chair Adam had used all those years ago.
Back when he had been DA for the District of Manhattan.
McCoy bowed his head, all of a sudden, feeling all alone.
Even after his retirement, when he had returned from Germany, Adam Schiff had been only a phone call away, with plenty of advice for a man who despised politics, yet found himself saddled with the political job of DA in Manhattan.
Sometimes we'd meet for drinks, and Adam would laugh at me.
Karma, he'd call it, whenever Mike Cutter would send me up the nearest wall. I'd ask if I'd ever been that bad, and Adam would look at me, eyes twinkling.
"Jack, my boy…I've lost count of all the times you drove me to drink," he would say.
God, I'm going to miss him…
…..
The funeral was a public affair, attended by Governors, the current Mayor, and all those who had been Mayor during Adam Schiff's tenure as DA.
Jack McCoy had to stand with all of those during the service, and the internment.
He would very much have preferred to stand with the family and friends.
Adam's kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids, were all there. So, too, were old friends he hadn't seen in years.
Anita Van Buren was there, Rey Curtis, Jamie Ross, and Abbie Carmichael.
But McCoy was DA now, dammit! And he had to stand, and be seen to stand, with the Governor, and all the other politicians…
How Adam had laughed when I told him I was the DA…
"Now, you'll learn how it feels to sit in the hot-seat when your Executive Assistant DA does something to turn your hair gray…"
Eventually, McCoy was able to make his way to Schiff's family.
Adam's children knew him well. He'd often been invited to family dinners; especially when his personal life had taken bad turns…
When Claire had died, he'd had me spend a week at his place. I thought Claire and I had been discreet about our…affair.
They hadn't been discreet enough to fool Adam Schiff.
So…when she was killed by that drunk driver, Adam had me spend a week with him. Guess he was afraid I might crash.
McCoy hadn't crashed…not then, at least…
The Dressler Case…
To this day, Jack McCoy couldn't explain why he did what he did.
He had hidden exculpatory evidence, colluded with the Presiding Judge, to railroad Bernard Dressler into the Death penalty.
The man had killed three people, one of them a child.
Fortunately, McCoy had come to his senses after that brief flirtation with the darker side of being a prosecutor. He had furnished the evidence, and Dressler was found guilty of Murder Two.
McCoy had crashed then…the bender to end all benders, and it had been Adam who picked up the pieces, took him home, put him to bed, and called the doctor…
Now, Adam's gone. I don't have him to vent to…
He'd always listened patiently, and, somehow, McCoy had almost come to believe Adam would always be around when Jack needed an attentive ear, or when he needed a good swift kick to the rear; most often dispensed as very pithy advice.
The wisest man east of the Missouri…
Jack McCoy sighed sadly.
I'm going to miss him.