Title: Specifics
Author: Tobias Charity
Ratings: PG-13, for mild swear words and contemplations of people doing horrible things to one another
Summary: Jack and Abbie have been working late, and they get caught up in the philosophical ramblings of the twenty-first century.
Spoilers: None, as far as I know of
Archives: Por favor! Just lemme know where.
Feedback: is muy appreciated.
Author's Notes: All stories have a beginning. See below the story for this one's. I suck at titles; I'm going to have a title contest for my next story. It's a bachelor auction, and Abbie gets a little over-excited when she finds that a certain lot is tall, silver-haired, and rides a Yamaha. Put your title idea into your review, or drop me a line at writer525@hotmail.com
Additional Note: This story is dedicated to Mr. Ted Forde, who forced terms and definitions down my throat, made me learn something when I thought that my brain would explode from an overload of information, brought me to hell and back, and still managed to be a friend, a mentor, and one helluva guy. "Innocent until proven guilty, my ass!" I'll remember that for the rest of my life.
XXX
Another day, another case.another long, torturous case of dealing with the worst that humankind could throw in our faces. A woman, stabbing her husband to death in front of her three children, and then turning the knife on them.what went through these people's minds? What made them finally give in to the impulse that I'm sure everyone feels once in their life, what made them finally pick up a knife and drive it into someone, or wrap a scarf around someone's neck, or shoot someone? What made them kill?
I glanced over at the clock, swore silently when I saw that it was nearly eleven at night, rubbed my tired eyes and slumped forward on the desk. " Hey McCoy, can I ask you a question?"
He looked up from the stack of papers balanced in front of him, made a final notation on the sheet he was working on, and then set his pen down and nodded. "Sure, I could use a distraction."
"Jack, what makes a person kill?" I knew what his response would be, and sure enough...
He stared at me, one bushy gray eyebrow raised. "What makes a person kill?" He repeated dubiously. "This from hang 'em high Abbie Carmichael?"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm so incredibly fed up with seeing these warped people day in and day out, parading their sad twisted lives in front of us on pieces of paper. All I want to know is what goes through someone's mind to make them kill."
He shifted in his seat, somewhat uneasily. "Haven't you ever wanted to kill someone?"
"Well yes, of course," I laughed with a twinge of bitterness. "But I never did..."
"These are just people who gave into that want," he said flatly, and then picked up his pen and went back to the paper. I sighed heavily and did the same. A few minutes later I couldn't take one more word of it and leaned back in my chair, throwing my pen down.
"You didn't answer my question."
He glanced up again. "Of course I did," he protested. "You just didn't like my answer."
"It's a perfectly good answer," I said. "But it wasn't specific enough."
An eyebrow went up. "'Specific enough'?" He repeated doubtfully. "You want specifics and you're asking me this...why?"
I shrugged, slightly unnerved. "I mean, all those defenses we offer...there has to be some reason behind them or they'd never work."
"Ah, you mean self-defense, don't you?"
I rubbed my temples. "Quite frankly, Jack, I don't see why we convict on self-defense."
He stared at me in disbelief. "You don't see why we convict? They kill, Abbie, whether on purpose or by accident, or just trying to stop someone from killing them, they still took a life. No one can play God."
"Don't we, though?" I mused out loud. "Don't we, in a way, play with peoples lives, toy with their control over everything that's dear to them, and finally take away the one certainty in life if they did commit the ultimate crime? If they did plan and plot to kill someone and finally go through with the deed? We give them the needle; we play God, Jack, and that's one thing you can't argue about."
A shadow of a grin flickered across his face. "I'm not arguing that we don't play God; I simply said that no one can."
"You're contradicting yourself, McCoy," I warned. "Explain, because I, in my infinite intelligence, am still puzzled."
He rubbed the slight stubble on his chin thoughtfully and gazed at some spot over my head. "Right. Um...example. The death penalty."
"What about it?"
"We play God when we sentence them to death, but we weren't the ones who made them kill someone in the first place."
I raised one eyebrow. "What's your point?"
He sighed and massaged his temples. "Forget that, bad example. Erm...Damn, I just had it."
"What about..." I paused for a moment, thinking. "Are you saying that we're not supposed to play God but we still do, what with abortions and the death penalty and all that?"
"Basically, but then you could argue that the murderers themselves were playing God when they took the life of the victim."
"I'm confused, and that's a state I'm rarely in; you put me there, Jack, you should be proud of yourself. Few people can say that they've confused Abbie Carmichael."
"Are we done with twenty questions now? Because we've still got a summation to write for the Samson case."
"Your turn to ask me something, McCoy, and then I'll go back to being your speechwriter."
"Now I've got to ask you a question?" He said, sounding surprised. "Haven't we wasted enough time?"
I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. "Just ask, for Chrissake. It's keeping us entertained, isn't it?"
He toyed with his pen. "Do you know what ethics are?"
"Excuse me?" I said incredulously. "Do I know what ethics are? I took four classes on them in law school. Yes, Jack, I know what ethics are."
Jack leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk. "Your time was wasted, Abbie. We don't use ethics."
"You may not use ethics," I said pointedly. "You've got your own system of ethics and morals that you work by."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Not necessarily," I conceded.
"You've got your own set of ethics too, Abbie, whether or not you realize it." He glanced over at me. I started to object but he raised a hand and I fell silent. "Every single lawyer in this building--you, me, Adam Schiff, Delmarco down in Fraud, Lonis over in Narcotics, Bookman over in Family Crimes--we all have different ideas of how defendants should be handled."
"I realize that," I protested. "What you think is murder one may only be man one to me. While you may think a rapist only deserves twenty-five to life I think he deserves the death penalty. Of course our opinions differ; that's what makes the wheels of justice turn."
His eyes crinkled up and I could see him shaking in silent laughter. "Makes the wheels of justice turn?" He repeated in a slightly mocking tone. "More like that's what makes the wheels of justice clog up and get all squeaky."
I smiled briefly. "Seriously though, Jack, you never answered my question."
"Which one? There've been so damn many I've lost count."
I rolled my eyes. "What makes people kill? Don't tell me that you answered it."
"Once again, I did, you just didn't like my answer."
"And once again, I said it was a perfectly good answer, you just didn't address the specifics."
Jack picked up his file again. "Don't lecture me about specifics, Abbie. I was wrestling with clauses and loopholes before you watched your first cop show."
"I'm not lecturing you, Jack," I said. "I'm simply trying to get an answer. Why do people kill?"
He slammed the manila file down on his desk. "Self defense. Happy?"
"We're back to square one. I still don't see how we can indict on self-defense. After all, even the lowliest animal has a right to defend itself."
"I can't believe I just heard that!" Jack said in obviously mock astonishment. "Humans have worked for thousands of years to pull themselves up above the level of animals, Abbie, so don't compare us to them."
"Us to them..." I reflected quietly. "Is that the way you think the world works, Jack? Since when did it become us and them? When did the world divide in two?"
He leaned across the desk. "I didn't say us and them, Abbie, you know that." He laughed cynically. "Us and them...I've said those words so many times they've lost their meaning."
"Their capability to divide, you mean."
"They'll always have that, Abbie. It'll always be Us and Them and no matter how many times someone says it things will remain the same."
I said nothing, figuring that he didn't want a response. He looked down at the forgotten file in front of him and crossed off a few illegible scribbles, and we sat in silence for a long minute.
"I'm hungry," Jack announced suddenly, standing up and going for his coat. "You up for some dinner?"
"Jack, it's eleven thirty," I protested. "What place is open this late?"
He glanced at his watch and shrugged into his leather jacket. "That all night diner out in Gramercy, for one."
I raised an eyebrow. "That place? Their food is so greasy you could light fires on it and keep the entire homeless population of New York warm for three winters."
"Oh, come on, I know you want to continue arguing with me about playing God and all that, since you know I'm wrong and you're right." Jack laid the sarcasm on thickly over the last phrase, then shut off the lights and went out the door.
Who could resist a challenge like that? I smiled sardonically to myself in the dark, and then followed him out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me.
XXX
All stories have a beginning. Here's Specifics':
WriterTC: Hey, Paul, what makes people kill?
LinPaul99: Self defense.
WriterTC: Whaaa?
LinPaul99: Well, that and about ten thousand more reasons, but...
WriterTC: Why do they convict on self defense?
LinPaul99: You're the one that likes Law & Order so much, you tell me.
WriterTC: Hmmm...
*Grin* God, I love my friends.
Feedback makes the author a happy turducken (a chicken in a duck in a turkey, we had one for Thanksgiving ^__^ They're surprisingly tasty!) so send feedback! P.S. Don't forget about the title contest. See the author's notes above for more info.
Author: Tobias Charity
Ratings: PG-13, for mild swear words and contemplations of people doing horrible things to one another
Summary: Jack and Abbie have been working late, and they get caught up in the philosophical ramblings of the twenty-first century.
Spoilers: None, as far as I know of
Archives: Por favor! Just lemme know where.
Feedback: is muy appreciated.
Author's Notes: All stories have a beginning. See below the story for this one's. I suck at titles; I'm going to have a title contest for my next story. It's a bachelor auction, and Abbie gets a little over-excited when she finds that a certain lot is tall, silver-haired, and rides a Yamaha. Put your title idea into your review, or drop me a line at writer525@hotmail.com
Additional Note: This story is dedicated to Mr. Ted Forde, who forced terms and definitions down my throat, made me learn something when I thought that my brain would explode from an overload of information, brought me to hell and back, and still managed to be a friend, a mentor, and one helluva guy. "Innocent until proven guilty, my ass!" I'll remember that for the rest of my life.
XXX
Another day, another case.another long, torturous case of dealing with the worst that humankind could throw in our faces. A woman, stabbing her husband to death in front of her three children, and then turning the knife on them.what went through these people's minds? What made them finally give in to the impulse that I'm sure everyone feels once in their life, what made them finally pick up a knife and drive it into someone, or wrap a scarf around someone's neck, or shoot someone? What made them kill?
I glanced over at the clock, swore silently when I saw that it was nearly eleven at night, rubbed my tired eyes and slumped forward on the desk. " Hey McCoy, can I ask you a question?"
He looked up from the stack of papers balanced in front of him, made a final notation on the sheet he was working on, and then set his pen down and nodded. "Sure, I could use a distraction."
"Jack, what makes a person kill?" I knew what his response would be, and sure enough...
He stared at me, one bushy gray eyebrow raised. "What makes a person kill?" He repeated dubiously. "This from hang 'em high Abbie Carmichael?"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm so incredibly fed up with seeing these warped people day in and day out, parading their sad twisted lives in front of us on pieces of paper. All I want to know is what goes through someone's mind to make them kill."
He shifted in his seat, somewhat uneasily. "Haven't you ever wanted to kill someone?"
"Well yes, of course," I laughed with a twinge of bitterness. "But I never did..."
"These are just people who gave into that want," he said flatly, and then picked up his pen and went back to the paper. I sighed heavily and did the same. A few minutes later I couldn't take one more word of it and leaned back in my chair, throwing my pen down.
"You didn't answer my question."
He glanced up again. "Of course I did," he protested. "You just didn't like my answer."
"It's a perfectly good answer," I said. "But it wasn't specific enough."
An eyebrow went up. "'Specific enough'?" He repeated doubtfully. "You want specifics and you're asking me this...why?"
I shrugged, slightly unnerved. "I mean, all those defenses we offer...there has to be some reason behind them or they'd never work."
"Ah, you mean self-defense, don't you?"
I rubbed my temples. "Quite frankly, Jack, I don't see why we convict on self-defense."
He stared at me in disbelief. "You don't see why we convict? They kill, Abbie, whether on purpose or by accident, or just trying to stop someone from killing them, they still took a life. No one can play God."
"Don't we, though?" I mused out loud. "Don't we, in a way, play with peoples lives, toy with their control over everything that's dear to them, and finally take away the one certainty in life if they did commit the ultimate crime? If they did plan and plot to kill someone and finally go through with the deed? We give them the needle; we play God, Jack, and that's one thing you can't argue about."
A shadow of a grin flickered across his face. "I'm not arguing that we don't play God; I simply said that no one can."
"You're contradicting yourself, McCoy," I warned. "Explain, because I, in my infinite intelligence, am still puzzled."
He rubbed the slight stubble on his chin thoughtfully and gazed at some spot over my head. "Right. Um...example. The death penalty."
"What about it?"
"We play God when we sentence them to death, but we weren't the ones who made them kill someone in the first place."
I raised one eyebrow. "What's your point?"
He sighed and massaged his temples. "Forget that, bad example. Erm...Damn, I just had it."
"What about..." I paused for a moment, thinking. "Are you saying that we're not supposed to play God but we still do, what with abortions and the death penalty and all that?"
"Basically, but then you could argue that the murderers themselves were playing God when they took the life of the victim."
"I'm confused, and that's a state I'm rarely in; you put me there, Jack, you should be proud of yourself. Few people can say that they've confused Abbie Carmichael."
"Are we done with twenty questions now? Because we've still got a summation to write for the Samson case."
"Your turn to ask me something, McCoy, and then I'll go back to being your speechwriter."
"Now I've got to ask you a question?" He said, sounding surprised. "Haven't we wasted enough time?"
I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. "Just ask, for Chrissake. It's keeping us entertained, isn't it?"
He toyed with his pen. "Do you know what ethics are?"
"Excuse me?" I said incredulously. "Do I know what ethics are? I took four classes on them in law school. Yes, Jack, I know what ethics are."
Jack leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk. "Your time was wasted, Abbie. We don't use ethics."
"You may not use ethics," I said pointedly. "You've got your own system of ethics and morals that you work by."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Not necessarily," I conceded.
"You've got your own set of ethics too, Abbie, whether or not you realize it." He glanced over at me. I started to object but he raised a hand and I fell silent. "Every single lawyer in this building--you, me, Adam Schiff, Delmarco down in Fraud, Lonis over in Narcotics, Bookman over in Family Crimes--we all have different ideas of how defendants should be handled."
"I realize that," I protested. "What you think is murder one may only be man one to me. While you may think a rapist only deserves twenty-five to life I think he deserves the death penalty. Of course our opinions differ; that's what makes the wheels of justice turn."
His eyes crinkled up and I could see him shaking in silent laughter. "Makes the wheels of justice turn?" He repeated in a slightly mocking tone. "More like that's what makes the wheels of justice clog up and get all squeaky."
I smiled briefly. "Seriously though, Jack, you never answered my question."
"Which one? There've been so damn many I've lost count."
I rolled my eyes. "What makes people kill? Don't tell me that you answered it."
"Once again, I did, you just didn't like my answer."
"And once again, I said it was a perfectly good answer, you just didn't address the specifics."
Jack picked up his file again. "Don't lecture me about specifics, Abbie. I was wrestling with clauses and loopholes before you watched your first cop show."
"I'm not lecturing you, Jack," I said. "I'm simply trying to get an answer. Why do people kill?"
He slammed the manila file down on his desk. "Self defense. Happy?"
"We're back to square one. I still don't see how we can indict on self-defense. After all, even the lowliest animal has a right to defend itself."
"I can't believe I just heard that!" Jack said in obviously mock astonishment. "Humans have worked for thousands of years to pull themselves up above the level of animals, Abbie, so don't compare us to them."
"Us to them..." I reflected quietly. "Is that the way you think the world works, Jack? Since when did it become us and them? When did the world divide in two?"
He leaned across the desk. "I didn't say us and them, Abbie, you know that." He laughed cynically. "Us and them...I've said those words so many times they've lost their meaning."
"Their capability to divide, you mean."
"They'll always have that, Abbie. It'll always be Us and Them and no matter how many times someone says it things will remain the same."
I said nothing, figuring that he didn't want a response. He looked down at the forgotten file in front of him and crossed off a few illegible scribbles, and we sat in silence for a long minute.
"I'm hungry," Jack announced suddenly, standing up and going for his coat. "You up for some dinner?"
"Jack, it's eleven thirty," I protested. "What place is open this late?"
He glanced at his watch and shrugged into his leather jacket. "That all night diner out in Gramercy, for one."
I raised an eyebrow. "That place? Their food is so greasy you could light fires on it and keep the entire homeless population of New York warm for three winters."
"Oh, come on, I know you want to continue arguing with me about playing God and all that, since you know I'm wrong and you're right." Jack laid the sarcasm on thickly over the last phrase, then shut off the lights and went out the door.
Who could resist a challenge like that? I smiled sardonically to myself in the dark, and then followed him out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me.
XXX
All stories have a beginning. Here's Specifics':
WriterTC: Hey, Paul, what makes people kill?
LinPaul99: Self defense.
WriterTC: Whaaa?
LinPaul99: Well, that and about ten thousand more reasons, but...
WriterTC: Why do they convict on self defense?
LinPaul99: You're the one that likes Law & Order so much, you tell me.
WriterTC: Hmmm...
*Grin* God, I love my friends.
Feedback makes the author a happy turducken (a chicken in a duck in a turkey, we had one for Thanksgiving ^__^ They're surprisingly tasty!) so send feedback! P.S. Don't forget about the title contest. See the author's notes above for more info.