This was an impromptu idea that attacked me last weekend, brought to you by too much work, a general lack of sleep and a deep zest to explore the darker side of Don. As a side note, I'm no lawyer, so there might be some factual errors on procedures left. Even the internet isn't always perfectly reliable when it comes to research.
Bitter Harvest
by Jules
1. Conviction
Ever since that fateful day back in May, when your brother compromised himself for the sake of a fellow scientist, you can't get rid of the feeling of impending doom. It's not really your nature, you're usually quite optimistic, even though your job throws you curve balls to question your faith on a daily basis. But this whole affair makes you feel unnaturally uncomfortable, and not only because it's family this time. It feels like a sword of Damocles is hovering above you all and you fear it might do irreparable harm once it drops.
The initial accuse of aiding a terrorist against your brother will certainly be dropped from the charges, as it is already clear that Sanjrani isn't a terrorist. But that still leaves the willful violation of the Patriot Act and even though it appears somewhat stupid to yourself as there was no harm done in sending scientific research of how to prevent crop diseases to a country that might harbor terrorists, but Charlie knew sending it remained a federal crime and therefore the trial is inevitable. Not that anyone really thinks it will end with a conviction, but that's how the law works.
Your brother, being even more optimistic than you are, tries to settle out of court nonetheless. His lawyers are good, paid with good money as well, and even though they have to condone the act itself, the whole FBI office is still standing strongly behind him. But his advances are turned down, the official statement being that evidence still needs to be collected and a court date is set for September.
The total lock-down on information leaking has you even more worried. As the leading agent of the investigation, you should be able to access some of the files, but being the brother of the defendant excludes you all the same from the prosecution side. So you try to tap your source at the AUSA, who's also your girlfriend and has helped you in many cases before in a totally unofficial manner. But not this time. She puts you in your place rather harshly, pointing out that she really likes her job and intends to keep it and the sheer intensity of her reply leaves you wondering if she knows something she isn't telling you.
So you're condemned to wait for September like everyone else and you spend your time working. It's a long and hot summer, with gritty cases and every other day or so, depending on how much time you have left, you still show up at your brother's house for dinner or a beer while watching TV. But conversation has dwindled, as the loss of your brother's security clearance prevents you from telling any case-related stories. You have to check your FBI persona at the door now.
It's a painful realization how much you and your brother have bonded over your work as you sip a beer during most of those silent nights, diligently trying to swallow the pain, too. Comments on sports seem to be your only common ground these days, neither of you dares to tread into your respective fields of work anymore, not even here on home territory. Thank God your father is there, trying to lighten up the mood by acting normal, but communication feels just too stilted most of the time.
And there's more, all those unresolved issues you don't even want to touch. Without his involvement into the case, Charlie would have never gotten all the inside information and using them the way he did feels like betrayal to you. At the same time, you feel guilty for pulling him into your line of work to begin with. Lots of conflicting emotions and a big serving of almost child-like petulance on top of it, because your brother is a genius and some part of you thinks he should have seen it all coming on his own.
So one of those nights, you're just coming back from the kitchen into the living room with another beer when you overhear your brother reciting something Professor Abbasi said to your father and that name instantly rings a bell and causes you to almost drop the bottle you're holding. Hoping fervently that you've misheard something, you wait until your father moves upstairs and instantly pounce onto Charlie, inquiring if he's still in contact with Abbasi in Pakistan.
The surprise on your brother's face is so genuine that you're torn between either shaking back sense into him or laughing out loud. He tries to stutter out an explanation of how he tried to keep him updated on Sanjrani's case and how they discussed his research. And you shake him, once, twice, and your face grows so dark that you can see the terror it causes in Charlie all too well.
"Stop it!" you say. "You have no idea what you're getting into."
And you leave after that, too riled up to pretend you can simply overlook what your brother did and knowing that your position requires you to give this new piece of information to the prosecution. But you won't, you can't. This is your brother and he did something endlessly stupid, but it wasn't meant to harm anyone. And neither are you a stranger to omitting facts, you've done so many times before. So you burn fuel with miles of thoughtless driving around, hoping that you really got through to Charlie and that his genius will finally work, preferably into the right direction and with a little more notion of self-preservation.
About a month later, just two weeks shy of the first day of trial, the bombshell drops onto all of you. A suicide bomb ignites in front of the US consulate in Peshawar, Pakistan, killing 14 people and injuring many more. The next day, the identity of the suicide bomber is revealed to the greater public and you watch the news on the TV in the office, your mouth dry and your stomach hollow as they mention his name. Karim Abbasi. You don't need long to connect the dots, still hoping that it's only a coincidence. Half an hour later though, your father calls your cell slightly hysterical, telling you Charlie was brought back in for more questioning. Counter-terrorism informs you that Karim was Professor Muhammad Abbasi's younger brother and all your fears are starting to choke you up at once.
It feels too perfect to be connected, it has to be coincidental. But you know it won't matter, the connection is there and if it were you on the prosecution side, you'd nail it down and make it waterproof as well. Charlie doesn't return home after the questioning and for the first time in 13 years, you stay off work, taking your allotted sick days. You're too much in the spotlight yourself now to be of any use to your team.
You visit Charlie in holding the next day, a shallow-faced and withdrawn shadow of his former self. The severity of the situation has finally sunken in and you feel sorry for your brother and powerless as well. You're reduced to a bystander, all your knowledge is worth nothing. And you want to turn back the time, wondering if you could've done anything to prevent this from happening. It's not like you're responsible for everything your brother ever did in his life, but you will probably never lose that streak of protectiveness you feel towards him.
You stay home the first day of trial, feeling unable to face the scene. The walls of your apartment are closing in on you, but you stay seated on the couch, watching some baseball game with halfhearted interest. Charlie will be disappointed that you didn't show up for moral support, but you're sure your father will understand. He calls in the evening, telling you how the day went, reporting nothing of immediate importance and asks you how you're doing. You can't answer the question truthfully, so you don't.
Standard procedure requires you, as the leading agent on the Sanjrani case which is immediately tied to your brother's case, to appear in court as a witness for the prosecution. It's a rehearsed act, you know what to expect, so you put on your best suit, drive to the court building and dodge the flocks of media in front of it in an experienced manner. You've lost count of how often you've been in here on business and you sure know your way around.
Charlie stares into space with a forlorn expression, but when he sees you entering, his face lights up slightly and he smiles at you. You're unsure if you really earn the trust he so openly displays, but you smile back anyway. There are many people seated in the back along with your father, many familiar faces, everyone rooting for your brother. Not just Amita and Larry, but faculty members and students as well. The case itself is of high interest to the whole scientific community and your brother is well liked and respected among them. Everyone wants to know how it turns out. If you're really true, you don't really want to know, don't even want to be here right now because you fear you won't like the outcome and its consequences.
The counsel for the prosecution is a long-legged blonde with laser-blue eyes and her appearance would turn heads anywhere. You watch her while she introduces the key evidence without a flicker of emotion on her face. Records of Charlie's work email address obtained with a court order right after the suicide attack. There it is, the proof that links Charlie to the attack and as innocuous as those emails sound, all social conversation and carefully worded explanations, one of them also contains a note that the US consulate could help. Oh, Charlie! You grasp the intended meaning immediately, the consulate would have been of help to Sanjrani's family for obtaining more information, but under the given circumstances it simply couldn't have been a more unfortunate phrase.
And you know already that it's over. No one can pull your brother back from the abyss anymore, circumstantial evidence or not. This is not about breaking any restricted communications law anymore, this is about mass murder and terrorist activity and of course they will grasp at any straw they can find. You risk a sideways glance, but Charlie's head is lowered, his face hidden from your view. You don't need to see it to know that he knows as well.
When you're finally called up to the witness stand, the counselor throws you an inquiring look that under different circumstances could probably be interpreted as flirting, but you're smart enough not to underestimate her. She leads you through a basic question and answering section, everything you've been prepared for and when you almost dare to think that you're going to be done soon, she steps over to her table and settles herself almost casually onto its corner.
"Agent Eppes," she asks you with a killer smile, "were you aware of the fact that your brother was still in contact with Professor Abbasi even after his arrest?"
In reality, it's not even two or three seconds, but to you it seems like an eternity as realization slams into you. They've got you, and they've got you good. Damned if you do and damned if you don't—your answer doesn't really matter anymore, they know the truth already. In all likelihood, they've wire-tapped your brother's house. Illegally, you assume, because if they had a court order, they could have simply introduced the recordings as evidence as well. They're going to take Charlie down, making this an exemplary case, and you're going down with him, but they leave it to you to decide which way. If you lie, they will prove it, one way or another, and prosecute you for obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting and perjury. And if you tell the truth, admit to the fact that you've known about those emails and not reported it, they will prosecute you anyway, but your contribution might be used in your favor.
The law you swore to protect so many years ago is biting you in the ass and the irony of it is painful, but fitting. Maybe it was bound to happen. You look at Charlie and your eyes meet over the room, a mixture of sorrow, pain and regret conveyed in that little moment from either side and you clear your throat, your shoulders squaring all on their own as if your body prepares to bear the brunt.
"Yes," you say and your voice sounds much stronger than you actually feel, "I knew about the emails. I told Charlie to break contact the moment I found out about it."
There, it's out and there's no turning back anymore. You hear a sharp intake of breath from the back of the room and you don't need to take a look to see the shocked face of your father.
"Thank you," the counselor replies with another killer smile while her assistant is busily scribbling something down. "No more questions."
You get up, your legs feeling leaden and you step down the aisle without looking left or right, needing all your willpower to resist the urge to run. No one stops you as you leave the courtroom.
Early the next morning, on his third day of trial, your brother is found guilty of conspiracy to terrorism. But you aren't there in person to witness it. After leaving court the afternoon before, you have swung by your office to leave your letter of resignation, badge and weapon on your desk and walked away from your job and your life, leaving the wreckage behind. And while an uproar sweeps through the courtroom and your brother blinks in shock at the verdict, you're sitting in the waiting lounge of the airport with a duffel bag by your feet, sipping coffee and watching the aircrafts out on the runway.
You're heading east. That's all you know about your future right now.
TBC
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