Profiler and all its characters belong to Sander/Moses, Cynthia Saunders, NBC and the wonderful cast and crew. I'm just borrowing the excelent characters they gave us and I promise to put them right back where they belong and not hurt them. And not to m ake any money from any of them while they're here.
Blind Justice
by Beth Arritt
Copyright 1997
Sam sat in her office, staring out the window. She glanced briefly at her desk, then returned her attention to the walkway outside her office. She had more than enough work to do, but she couldn't seem to concentrate on any of it.
As she watched through the window, a familiar figure walked by. She kept an eye on her watch. Like clockwork, the figure passed back by the door two minutes later.
"John," she called out just loud enough for him to hear as he passed.
He stopped, hesitated for a second, then walked just inside the door. "What's up?"
"Been drinking too much?" He gave her a confused look. "That's the sixth time you've been to the men's room in the last hour."
He looked like a little boy caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "Too much coffee after lunch?" he suggested hopefully. She shook her head. "Okay," he admitted, "I was sort of keeping an eye on you, just in case...."
Sam sighed. "If you're going to do that, you might as well come in and have a seat. Your pacing by the door is making me nervous."
"Sorry." He sat down in the chair in front of her desk and studied her. "So how are you?"
"I'm fine."
John smiled. "One of the five phrases most often used as a lie."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "What are the other four?"
"'Trust me', 'I love you', 'This won't hurt a bit', and 'I'll still respect you in the morning'."
Sam laughed. "I think I missed it when they taught that list in school."
"Ah-ha! A big gap in your education." He leaned forward, his elbows supporting him on his knees. "So what other secrets are you hiding, Dr. Waters?"
"If I told you, they wouldn't be secrets."
"I suppose." He studied her again. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"
Sam suddenly became very intent on adjusting her watch. "I've talked to the prosecutor for hours, he has all the evidence and depositions. He's worried that the lack of fingerprint evidence from any of the scenes except for the Merryfield scene might be a problem, since all the Georgia cases are being tried as one, but I--"
"Sam," John cut her off, "I was at the briefing. I know the case is as ready as it can be. Are *you* ready?"
She looked him in the eyes. "After everything he's put me through, Jack's trial will be a piece of cake. My only worry is that he'll be acquitted."
"He won't." She looked away, and he waited until she looked back at him before continuing. "We've got him, Sam. Trust me."
She nodded, hoping this wasn't one of those times "Trust me" turned out to be a lie.
"Are you still planning on going to the whole trial?" He thought she was half-crazy to want to be in the courtroom everyday, but he understood it was something she had to do, even if he didn't quite understand why.
"Absolutely. Seeing me there every day will be more of a strain on him. He'll want me to know it's him, that he's the one who did all of this just for me."
"Okay. I'll see you in the morning then." He turned to go, then turned back to her. "You want a ride to the courthouse?"
Sam started to refuse automatically, then stopped herself. The thought of having some moral support walking into court was too tempting to resist. "I'd like that--if you don't mind?"
"Not at all. I can pick you up at the firehouse at 8."
"Thanks." John responded with a brief nod, then left. Sam sat there for a few more minutes, then gave up and went home to spend some quality time with her daughter before the circus hit full force.
***
The ride to the courthouse was quiet, with only a few comments on the weather. As they approached the building, John stopped the car. He looked at the throng of reporters on the courthouse steps, then at Sam. "Would you rather go in the back way?
"No." Sam's eyes were shielded by her sunglasses, but her voice was firm. "I'll be okay. I want everyone to see me."
*Especially Jack,* John thought, knowing Jack would be watching the TV coverage if he could. "Okay." He drove the short distance to the parking lot beside the courthouse, pulling into one of the spots reserved for police and displaying the police vehicl e ID on the dashboard.
Sam had already gotten out of the car and was waiting for him by the hood. He placed his hand lightly against the small of her back in silent support as the reporters attacked.
"Ms. Waters, are you testifying in the case?"
"Agent Waters, how can you be sure this man is *the* Jack of All Trades?"
"Do you hope he'll get the death penalty?"
"Are you here for revenge?"
The questions followed them all the way down the sidewalk and to the top of the steps. Sam walked in silence, ignoring them until she reached the top of the steeps. Then she stopped and turned to face the majority of the reports on the steps below her, looking at them until they fell silent and waited for her to speak.
"I'm here to see the resolution of a case that we have spent years solving, and to see justice done." She turned her back on the questions they immediately started flinging at her.
John ushered her into the courthouse. "Nice job," he complimented in a low voice next to here ear. She gave him a brief smile as he held the door to the courtroom for her, then he followed her inside.
She stopped a few feet into the courtroom and looked around, her eyes widening as the reality of what was about to take place hit her. "It's really happening," she whispered to herself. At the touch of John's hand on her arm, she shook herself out of he r reverie and let him lead her to the seats Bailey was saving for them.
***
Three hours later she was getting frustrated. She knew Jack had spotted her when he walked in. She had long ago developed a sixth sense that could feel his eyes on her. But he hadn't acknowledged her and he hadn't looked back in her direction once.
So far the prosecutor had only managed to present some facts of the murders. He hadn't even gotten around to presenting evidence that linked Jack to the killings yet. when the judge called a recess for lunch.
"You hungry?" John asked. Sam as people began to file out around them.
"I don't want to walk through all those reporters just to get food. I'll find a vending machine somewhere."
John shared a look with Bailey. "I think we can do a little better than that."
They led her out a side door from the courtroom to avoid reporters and up to a room on the second floor of the building. When she walked into the room, she saw Grace, Nathan and George taking food out of bags. She stood speechless in the middle of the r oom for a moment.
"Hey, Sam," Grace held out a sandwich, "we brought your favorite. Turkey club, no mayo."
"And chocolate cheesecake for desert," George added.
Finally Sam found her voice. "You guys... you're the best."
"We all wanted to be there for the whole thing," Nathan said with a glance at Bailey, "but our boss said he couldn't spare us."
"So we came for lunch," Grace finished for him. She walked over to Sam, handed her the sandwich, and guided her to a chair at the table.
Sam sat down and unwrapped her sandwich. Someone handed her chips and a soda as they sorted through the food. They talked about everything except the trial and had a wonderful lunch. Sam could even feel a little of the tension drain out of her body as they ate.
As they were clearing away the last of the containers, Sam thanked them again.
"Don't mention it," Grace dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Just remember when you're down there that you're not alone." They each gave Sam a hug before they left. Then Sam, Bailey and John went back down to the courtroom.
***
True to Grace's promise, Sam was never alone for the trial. Bailey spent as much time as he could there, although as the SAC he couldn't be there all the time. George, Nathan and Grace each came for portions of the trial. And John was there all of the time. They developed a routine without ever discussing it. Each morning he would pick her up at the fire house and take her to court. Someone from the team always brought lunch and often stayed for the afternoon, then Sam and John and anyone else from the VCTF who was there would get dinner somewhere nearby.
It was at dinner on a night when just the two of them stayed that Sam finally asked John why he was spending all of his time in court.
John shrugged. "I'm expendable? Bailey, George and Grace all have special skills and need to be there a little more than I do." He played with his food for a few moments. "At least that's how I talked Bailey into it," he admitted, then looked her in t he eyes. "I care about you, Sam. You don't have to go through this alone. None of us *want* you to go through it alone." After a brief pause, he flexed his arms, causing his shoulders to roll. "I've got strong shoulders," he joked in a very macho voi ce, "I won't fall over if you lean on 'em a little."
Sam laughed. "You're always offering me a shoulder, is that your best body part or something?"
"Oh, no," he deadpanned, "you should see my feet. I've got great feet." He looked offended as she laughed even harder. "Don't believe me? Here, I'll show you." He crossed his left leg over his right knee and reached for his shoelaces.
"No, really, I believe you," Sam protested, still laughing. "I'm sure you have wonderful feet."
He finally dropped the act and laughed as he put his foot back down.
"Thank you," Sam said when she had finished laughing.
"For making you laugh?"
She nodded. "And for being here for the trial. I never would have asked for support."
"I know. So I didn't give you a choice."
Sam smiled. "I'm glad."
John went back to toying with his food. "So, how do you think the trial is going?"
"It's hard to tell. The jury is pretty difficult to read. They reacted to the pictures and descriptions of the murders, but with only that one partial print from one scene, it's iffy as to whether they'll believe it was him." She clenched her napkin in her fist. "The fact that he sits there every day looking like an altar boy doesn't help. And then there's that stutter. I mean, look at him. Would you believe that man is capable of those murders? Of harming anyone?"
"If you say he's Jack, then he's Jack," John stated with absolute certainty.
"Yeah, well, the jury won't take my word for it, I'm afraid."
John placed his hand over her clenched fist. "*We* know who he is now. He can't take that knowledge away from us. It's easy to hide when you're a ghost with no name and no face. But he doesn't have that advantage anymore. It's just a matter of time."
"I hope you're right." She relaxed her hold on the napkin slightly. "If he gets away..."
"He won't. Even if he isn't convicted this time, he won't get away."
Sam wondered briefly if there was something he knew that she didn't; something that gave him such assurance about Jack's conviction, but then decided she really didn't want to talk about it anymore. "So, what do you think the Braves' chances are at the S eries this year?"
John blinked, but followed her shift in conversation. "I don't know. Maybe we should get George to ask the I Ching again."
Sam smiled at the memory, and resolutely shoved thoughts of Jack out of her head and filled it with baseball instead.
***
By the end of the second week, Sam was fed up with the whole trial. She had given her testimony on his profiler and the evidence as she knew it. She calmly described how he was capable of seeming functional and harmless, otherwise he would have been cap tured sooner. Even when the defense attorney goaded her about being so desperate to punish someone for her husband's death that she would persecute a man who, by her own admission, saved her life, she stayed calm. It took every ounce of self-control and all of the training she had, but she didn't blow up.
Just when she thought she couldn't stand to hear another word about what a fine, upstanding man this poor, wrongly accused pillar of society was, the defense rested its case. She studied the jury intently during the closing arguments, but they weren't gi ving anything away.
"Come on," John said as soon as the jury filed out of the room to deliberate.
"Where?" She didn't want to be far away in case they reached a verdict.
"This could take days. We're leaving here and going for a strong drink. Maybe even two."
"You shouldn't drink if you're driving," she commented absently, still trying to analyze the looks she had seen on the faces of the jury members.
"The drinks aren't for me. Come on." John guided her out to the car. They drove to the restaurant nearby that had become their usual spot for dinner. Once they were inside at the bar, John ordered coffee for himself and a mixed drink for Sam.
She took a gulp without realizing what she was drinking, then made a face. "What is this?"
"A Long Island Ice Tea. Drink it. All of it. You need it."
Sam was too tired to argue, so she finished the drink without further protest. They decided to go ahead and have dinner since they were there, but neither of them ate much of their order.
After half an hour of pushing her food around her plate, Sam decided she'd had enough. They paid the bill and John drove her to the firehouse.
"Thanks," Sam said as she opened the car door.
"Don't mention it. Try to get some sleep, okay? I'll be by to get you if they call for the verdict."
"I don't think I'll get any sleep. The house has been so quiet since Angel and Chloe left to get away from the trial. And considering... well, let's just say sleep won't be easy until there's a verdict."
John tapped his fingers on the steering wheel for a second. "I could come in for a while if you think company would help.
"Anything to keep me from thinking is welcome."
The two of them stayed up talking all night. John distracted Sam with stories from college and his days on the Atlanta Police Department. He even managed to get her to tell a few stories of her own. John was preparing to leave around seven the next mor ning when Sam's phone rang. He waited while she answered, then hung up without a word.
"The verdict's in. They're reading it at nine."
John took the phone from her hand and put it back on the base. "Come on."
Sam changed clothes quickly, then went with John to his place and waited while he changed. They arrived at the courthouse a little before nine. After they made their way through the usual throng of reporters, Bailey met them just inside the doors.
"Hey, Bailey, heard anything?" John held the door to the court room as both Sam and Bailey walked through, then followed them.
"Not a word. Guess we'll find out soon."
"Not soon enough," Sam muttered as they took their seats.
They sat silently as they waited for the jury to come in the room. After a few minutes that seemed like years, the jury arrived, the judge arrived, and court was called to order. The formalities dragged on, but finally the foreman handed their verdict t o the bailiff, who handed it to the judge. After reading the slip of paper, he laid it on his desk.
"Madam Foreman, have you reached a verdict?"
"We have your honor."
"And what say you?"
"We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty."
The court room erupted as both sides alternately protested and cheered, but Sam's world plunged into silence. She felt John take hold of her arm and lead her out a side door, and she saw Bailey's back as he parted the crowd for them, but she heard nothin g, and she felt no emotion.
They had to wait outside the room for the police to lead the acquitted man through to be processed for release. As he passed next to Sam, he paused to tie his shoe. He leaned slightly towards her as he straightened back up and whispered, "You can't lock me up, Samantha. I have to be free, for you to be with me." Then he walked off to the elevator to regain his freedom.
In the moments it took Sam to digest what had just happened, John had tightened his hold on her arm, and Bailey had disappeared. John had her almost to the door of the nearest witness room before she snapped, but her low moan went unnoticed in the chaos surrounding Jack.
John managed to get the door closed just as she started screaming. "That bastard! He got away with it, and then he has the nerve to flaunt it in my face!" She made a move towards the door. "I'll kill him! I swear I'll kill him!"
John had to put both arms around her from behind to restrain her. "Sam! Stop it!" She twisted and turned, straining to get loose, crying loudly. "Calm down and listen to me! He's not getting away." She still struggled to break free. "He's not getti ng away, Sam! Look!" He pulled her over to the door to look through the glass. "Look! He's not getting away!"
She stopped struggling as she saw Bailey standing with three officers from the Maryland State Police. They were handcuffing Jack and leading him outside, where their cars were waiting.
"They're extraditing him to Maryland to stand trial for the murders he committed there." He relaxed his hold on her slightly. "Including Tom."
Sam turned around and buried her head against John's chest and cried as she calmed down and let some of her anger fade. Finally, she looked up at him. "You knew about this?"
John nodded. "Bailey had them here, waiting, just in case. He thought it was best not to tell you. He didn't want you to think about the possibility of... well, of Jack getting acquitted."
She didn't have the energy to get angry about the secrets. "So it begins again. And with the same evidence. What makes you think this trial will go any differently?" She didn't mention that she had an even more personal stake in this one.
"More evidence." He pulled a small tape recorder out of his pocket, rewound it a little, then pressed play. Jack's whispers to Sam came out of the speaker. "And the hallway has hidden surveillance cameras with microphones. We definitely have video sho wing him whispering something to you, it's possible we have the words with the video as well." He wiped some of the tears off her face. "He's digging himself in deeper and deeper. It's only a matter of time."
"I hope you're right," she said, burying her face back against his chest. "I really hope you're right."
THE END... for now...