Farewells…
Note: This story references events in L&O episodes "Prescription for Death", and "Out of the Half-light"
The funeral service had been beautiful. Uplifting, even…
But Paul Robinette still felt numb with shock. Ben Stone's death had been so sudden.
We spoke over the phone the day before he died. He was fine, planning lessons for the course he was teaching at NYU. He asked me to come and speak to the class…
Ben Stone was dead the very next day, sudden cardiac arrest; a heart attack.
Robinette sat there in the pews, listening to the District DA, and the Priest-Officiant; to the eulogy, and the words from the Holy Bible.
Then, he followed, in his car, joining the funeral cortege, to the cemetery, to that green place where Ben Stone's coffin would be laid to rest.
"Paul!" the District DA, Jack McCoy, walking up to him. "Glad you could make it."
"So am I," Robinette watched as Ben Stone's coffin was lowered gently into its grave. "Ben…made a great difference in my life."
The funeral was done, people breaking up, going their separate ways, and Robinette felt just a little…lost.
"Peter!"
Jack McCoy gestured Peter Stone over. He looked lost too.
Jack McCoy stood there, one hand on Peter's shoulder, the other on Paul's.
"Let's get some lunch," he said. "My treat."
…..
It was an upscale place that specialized in good steaks and liquor, and the clientele was comprised mainly of attorneys from the DA's Office.
The three attorneys were quickly led to a quiet table, and drink orders quickly taken.
The service was swift, the steaks and scotch as good as advertised…
"What is it about funerals and food?" Robinette wondered aloud.
"Mortality," Jack McCoy responded promptly. "We're reminded that we don't live forever, so our first response is to eat, to live."
"Yeah…" Peter Stone made to stand. "I…I don't think I'm going to be good company right now…"
"We know," Jack reached out, hand on Stone's shoulder. "You don't have to be sociable. Drink your scotch, eat your lunch."
Stone surrendered with good grace, looking down at the Porterhouse on his plate, then he sighed.
"It's just…Dad and I didn't really get along all that well after the divorce."
"I know," Paul Robinette sighed too. "ADA hours suck. That, more than anything else is what kills relationships in the DA's Office. After a while, I didn't even bother to try."
"Then you left the DA's Office," Stone sipped his scotch. "Dad was a little miffed about it. Why did you leave? The hours?"
"No," Robinette sat back, remembering that day, so long ago now…
"We caught a really bad case," he continued. "A black girl had been badly beaten. Her family claimed she had been raped by cops. The whole thing was a hoax; but it blew way out of proportion. I wound up sort of…torn about the whole thing, and Ben told me I had to ask myself if I was a black lawyer, or if I was a lawyer who was black."
"I remember that case," McCoy commented. "It almost came down to violence in the streets. But calmer heads ultimately prevailed, thank God…"
McCoy looked back to Robinette.
"He had an effect on you?"
"Ben? Yes…He forced me to rethink who, and what, I was; and where I could best put my legal training to good use."
"He would be proud of you, Paul," McCoy's eyes twinkled as they focused on Peter Stone. "You too."
Stone blushed, hanging his head.
"I wish I'd made things up with him…" he sighed.
…..
Fathers…
McCoy sighed too, remembering his father. And Adam Schiff too.
The then-District DA had also been a sort of father-figure.
To me, and also to Ben…
Schiff was another man McCoy missed, sometimes so deeply he felt at the point of tears.
The wisest man east of the Missouri…
He brought his attention back to the other two men.
"I told you my Ben Stone story at the service," he said. "How about you two?"
Peter Stone shook his head
"Sorry…I'm too jumbled today," he admitted.
…..
I do," Paul Robinette remembered.
It was so long ago…
"His name was Dr. Edward Auster, and he was a drunk. He killed a woman by giving her the wrong medication. In spite of all we knew, the trial was a tough one. Auster was one of those…patriarchal doctors."
"Doctor God…" McCoy murmured thoughtfully. "I've run into guys like those before. What did Ben do?"
Robinette looked down at the table, at his plate.
"We all knew Auster was a drunk. At trial, Ben was about to question him. But it was about lunch time. So the Court broke for Lunch, and Ben sent Detective Greevey to keep watch on Auster and keep count of what he drank, and how much. I don't recall what he drank, but it was about five or six of them in just about an hour and a half."
McCoy's eyes widened.
"I'm impressed," he said. "Was he upright?"
"That's the funny thing, Jack," Paul remembered that day. "He wasn't staggering, he wasn't slurring his words. To look at, he seemed stone cold sober. But he wasn't, and Ben proved it in court after lunch."
"How?" Peter Stone asked.
"He gave Auster the standard test police give suspected drunk drivers, you know, this…"
Robinette demonstrated, closing his eyes, bringing right index finger to his nose to the appreciative chuckles of the others.
"Auster failed?" McCoy chuckled.
"Badly," Robinette assured him. "Austere was there in Court, totally skunked, and we would never have known if not for that test."
"You do what you need to do to get the job done," he held up his tumbler of scotch. "To Ben Stone."
"To Ben."
"To Dad…"
Three glasses clinked together, three men remembering the fourth, the one who had made such differences in each of their lives.