Day Two
Prompt: Power
I feel like I should add a quick disclaimer here - the opinions expressed are based on how I would interpret Jayden and Blake's viewpoints, not my own.
Norman slammed his work phone shut with entirely too much force as he contemplated the piece of bad news he had just received from one of his colleagues. All the work he'd done collecting and analyzing evidence, destroyed in one fell swoop. He wasn't just sent back to square one – he'd been completely thrown off the fucking board without any guarantee of ever returning.
"What's wrong with you?"
The words were spoken in a tone Norman didn't often hear from the gruff cop. If his mind wasn't so frazzled with anger, he'd stop to analyze the implications – it seemed to be full of genuine interest, bordering on concern. As he turned to face Carter Blake, his suspicions were proven correct. The man's brow was furrowed in confusion as he looked the agent up and down, noting his tense shoulders and agitated expression.
"We just hit a complete dead end," Norman hesitated a moment – he knew damn well he wasn't authorized to divulge in the details of his case to Carter, who even as a police lieutenant had no government clearance. At the moment, however, he was far too frustrated to care. "We were so fuckin' close to getting this guy we know is running a human trafficking ring from Africa to the US – but it turns out he's a citizen here. We have to suspend our investigation." Norman sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Before he could continue ranting about the latest stress his job had provided, however, Carter interrupted him.
"Wait wait wait – You know the guys selling people underground, and you're just going to stop going after him?" Carter asked. The slight concern vanished from his voice, replaced with disgust.
"I never said that," he shot back angrily. "Of course we're going to keep going after the bah'stad, we just can't tap his phones or eneh'thin until we get a court order."
"Why? Who gives a shit if he's a citizen?"
Norman threw his hands into the air in frustration. "The Constitution gives a shit, Cartah! You can't just wiretap people's phones without due process! American people are protected against illegal search'n seizure, and the Supreme Court's ruled phone conversations qualify." If he was honest, Norman doubted Carter had even read the document in question. And if he had – well, he had missed a rather important amendment, as evidenced by Carter breaking in to Nathaniel's apartment without a warrant all those months ago.
"…You said you had proof he's trafficking people," Carter pointed out, changing the direction of the argument.
"Yeah, but it was technically obtained illegally- It can't be used in court anymore."
Rising to the defensive, Carter jumped out of his seat on the couch. "Like I said – who gives a shit? He's selling people! While you're sitting on your ass getting a bullshit court order from some asshole in a wig that's separate from the whole situation, this guy has more time to sell fuckin' kids into prostitution and slavery!"
In the back of Norman's brain he registered dully how quickly their discussion had turned into another heated argument within seconds. It certainly wasn't the first time, but the nature of their disagreement was striking a very raw, vulnerable nerve. The frustration of the set back, combined with his own values being called into question again, were enough that Norman felt no desire to douse the figurative flame this time around.
"Well, I'm so fucking sorry, Blake! I forgot I was talking to the guy who wipes his ass with people's Miranda Rights. Even if we interdicted him, we couldn't hold him for a single charge because we have no evidence!"
"See, this is exactly the kind of shit I'm talking about, Norman! If you spent half as much time arresting criminals as you spent protecting them, maybe we'd see the streets cleaning up! If you can't admit that, then maybe you should just get the fuck out!"
Hatred – pure, raw, unfiltered hatred – surged through Norman's system as the deranged cop's words echoed in his brain. Each word vibrated painfully against his skull, his hands shaking equally hard; yet out of desire to strangle the man in front of him more than stress. "…You know what, Blake? I think you just found somethin' we can agree on."
Carter's teeth flashed as his mouth twisted to form a tight grin. Without waiting for the undoubtedly snide response lingering on the edge of his tongue, Norman turned on his heel and stormed through the house to the front door in long, furious strides. Slamming the door, Norman paused to lean against the wooden frame for a moment to collect his bearing.
He wasn't entirely sure what he was angriest at – Carter, or the situation. A part of him – the part that had shoved the bouncer in Blue Lagoon into the wall and threatened to shoot Jackson Neville – agreed with every word Carter had just said. It wasn't fair that he had to obey every law to the letter in order to capture criminals that would gleefully break every one of them. But a larger part of him argued right back that breaking the law to catch criminals made him no better than the criminals themselves. Moreover, if he couldn't obey the rules of the land, he had no business enforcing them.
It didn't change the fact that Carter was right in one sense; that every second spent getting a signature from a judge was another second that an innocent teenaged girl was forced to sell her body, only seeing a tiniest fraction of the money collected for it. That every minute he wasted gathering evidence of the man's previous crimes could be used instead to prevent more from occurring.
Norman knew that part of the reason Carter loved his job was because of the power – but the one thing Norman hated about his was the powerlessness.