Warning: Some images may be disturbing.
Friday morning dawned bright and wet. Early morning rain had washed everything clean and the plane landed, screeching through puddles on the tarmac before gliding to a stop at the gate. His flight had arrived as scheduled, and other than losing one piece of luggage, Dobey's trip had been a hard won success. He met Edith outside his gate, changed into his blues in the airport restroom, then guided his wife to their car.
With Edith in funeral black, and Dobey in a uniform he hated wearing, because he only wore it to depressing occasions, the couple arrived at the church on time. They sat through the brief memorial service, and Edith stood with Logan's girlfriend and mother, while her husband helped carry the flag draped body to the hearse.
They followed the short funeral train to the cemetery and her husband and five other officers lowered the coffin to the metal apparatus that would finally intern Officer Logan.
Dobey tried to focus on the preacher's droning voice at the graveside service but the previous few days had been a whirlwind of revelations. His briefcase was so full of evidence tapes and paper copies of police reports, evidence photos and witness interview transcripts that he'd had to check the bag, instead of keeping it with him on the plane. Still, he'd opened enough closed closets, and found enough skeleton's packed away in them, he knew he had a solid case against Clare.
The problem was, the best evidence he had, the tape of his interview with Clare's step-father Matt Rode, hadn't fit in the briefcase. He'd had a copy made of it in Columbus, then asked that the copy be held there while he transported the original in his luggage. His briefcase had made it back to Bay City, his personal luggage had not.
His brief attempt at finding the baggage before leaving the airport had been fruitless. His disappointment in losing the first tape, combined with launching directly into a funeral after a sleepless flight, gave him a mildly paranoid feeling. It was a sad occasion and the week had been a hard one for all concerned, but Dobey felt there was more going on.
He frequently caught, or thought he was catching, surreptitious glances from the other officers. Kyle was in attendance, but hadn't been physically capable of carrying the coffin. Dobey's grim duty kept him from speaking to Kyle until after the internment, and by that time the man seemed drained. His responses were terse and laden with remorse, and then Kyle left with his family.
Dobey attributed the officer's attitude and strain to the long week and tried to let it go. He dropped his wife off at their home, promising that he would be back as soon as he had visited his men in the hospital and settled things in his office.
When he got to the hospital, instead of finding Starsky and Hutch in the same room, well on their way to recovery, he found Hutch alone on the isolation floor, shrouded by an oxygen tent, a sickly sun-yellow color.
Bonnie was off-duty, as was Stacey and Dr. Dean. The only medical personnel that could be reached was the surgeon Starsky had been assigned. Dr. Lewis gave him a fish-eyed gleam of triumph when Dobey knocked on his office door.
"I suppose you're looking for your man, Starsky?" Lewis asked, eagerly rising from his desk, a stack of patient charts in his hands.
"It was my understanding that he was to remain immobile until Saturday."
Dr. Lewis took a deep breath and sighed happily. "Yes that was the plan, but given Mr. Starsky's previous displays of violence and the danger he posed to the nurses, we felt it was best that he be held in a different facility."
"What?" Dobey demanded, his face instantly flooding with crimson.
Dr. Lewis' face flushed as well, and he kept his distance, but he was clearly enjoying the hand he held over Dobey. "In fact, I'm surprised that you weren't here to arrest the man yourself, but...I understand you left town before all the evidence came to light."
The accusation was there, but remained unspoken, and Dobey thought carefully about his words before he asked, "Where is my man?"
"Bellevue, I think. In solitary. He was strapped to a gurney and screaming like a wild man when he left here."
Dobey walked away before he could respond the way he wanted to. He resisted the urge to return to Hutch's floor, knowing there was nothing he could do for Hutch, yet loathe to leave him on his own. He was nearly to his car in the parking garage of the hospital when he noticed the two dark sedans parked either side of his brown Ford. The pinched, bird-like faces of IA's Simonetti and Dryden waited in the dim light of the garage, the two officers leaning against twin cars, waiting for him.
Dobey stopped in his tracks and felt his heart sink. Both IA men looked too happy, too pleased with themselves, too well dug in. Dobey resumed his pace, walking like a man determined to face the gallows with courage.
Neither of the cars were blocking his, but Simonetti's car was too close to Dobey's for the captain to open his driver's side door.
"Move your car, Simonetti."
"We'd like to have a conversation first." Simonetti said.
"Unless it's about the death of Officer Logan, Internal Affairs has no business with me or my men." Dobey bit back.
"You've visited your Officer Hutchinson. You have to know that Starsky is now in custody." Dryden said, arms crossed over a brown jacket that was free of lint, wrinkles, or any other sign of wear. Dobey, still in his blues, hated the jacket and desperately tried not to hate the man wearing it.
"I've heard a rumor...that you've done a damned good job of spreading around. I plan to follow through on that rumor and talk to my man, make sure he's receiving proper medical treatment. Then we can talk."
"Starsky isn't allowed visitors." Simonetti said. "His behavior has been too violent."
"Who says?" Dobey barked, quaking with anger.
He'd known Simonetti and Dryden had been laying low the past few years, biding their time. Waiting for an inkling of a rumor against their least favorite police detectives. Dobey didn't know if it was the sucker punch Starsky had dealt Simonetti, or the way his men duped Dryden. Maybe it was that Dryden and Simonetti had nothing better to do with their time but dream up revenge on Starsky and Hutch. Dobey had expected that eventually the two IA men and the detective partners would have it out.
He hadn't expected Simonetti to stoop so low as to drag a wounded man from his hospital bed.
"I've got a court order, Captain." Simonetti said. "No one, who has seen the evidence against him, is to visit Sergeant Starsky. No one is to have any contact with him outside of Bellevue personnel for the next 24 hours. So the question is...do you want to hold Starsky's hand or let him face the music like a big boy?"
It felt like extortion. It felt like a deal with the devil. It felt like a witch hunt. The trade off, the Catch 22, became letting Starsky rot alone at Bellevue so that Dobey could see the evidence, or supporting his man emotionally while rendered blind and deaf.
At the back of the metaphorical corner Dobey was being forced into, was the irrational fear that the longer Starsky and Hutch were apart, the greater the risk that they would lose them both. Dryden and Simonetti were literally killing two birds with one stone. One giant, slimy, ugly stone that Dobey hadn't seen coming.
"Everybody in this hospital seems to know. The only thing your court order did was prevent the information from leaving the state!" Dobey barked.
Simonetti smiled. "If you sign a statement that says you're aware of the stipulations concerning Starsky's arrest, you'll have free access to all the evidence we've gathered against the officer. You'll be asked to testify at the hearing tomorrow, once you've been thoroughly brought up to speed."
"What hearing?"
"To drop the charges against Clare Donovan. She's already been released into the custody of a local women's shelter."
Simonetti took a step closer, trying to take advantage of the foot height difference between himself and the captain. "I told Starsky I'd see him again. This time he got stupid. If I could take him down with his partner I would. But getting Starsky off the streets is a big win for the good guys, Captain. It's time you accepted that."
"I don't like you in my space, Simonetti. I don't like breathing the same air you breathe." Dobey said, watching with some satisfaction, as a glob of spittle splattered against Simonetti's lapel. The captain turned, just enough to let Dryden see his profile, then looked back to Simonetti.
"We find out that you tried to cover any of this up, Dobey. You won't have to worry about breathing our air ever again." Dryden said from behind him. "We don't make prison visits."
Saturday morning the courtroom was filled with witnesses, lawyers and cops. Simonetti and Dryden sat near the front behind the table reserved for Clare Donovan and her attorney, a man named Walter Forrest. Dobey sat alone behind the table reserved for Sergeant Starsky and the DA.
Dobey's eyes were bloodshot and burning. It had been another long, sleepless night at the end of a string of nights just like it. He and the DA had spent hours pouring over the disgusting array of accusations and so called evidence against Starsky. There were charges being leveled against Hutch too, but the hearing today wasn't about new charges, but dismissing old ones.
When Starsky was led in, pale in prison orange, he had been cuffed to the pair of crutches he needed to get around. He was shaky, obviously disoriented and in pain. A psych ward, holding a prisoner for the city, only had so much obligation when it came to keeping a prisoner comfortable. In addition to the strain on his detective's face, Dobey could have sworn that Starsky had new bruises on his arms and face.
While Starsky stood, waiting for the officers with him to release the cuffs and take the crutches away, Dobey stood close enough to exchange the first words he'd had the chance for since he'd left Bay City.
"Starsky.."
"Hutch ok?" Was the first and only thing Starsky said.
Dobey sighed and watched Starsky's eyes fall a little before he nodded, turned with his hands cuffed in front of him, and sank into his chair.
Clare was brought in next, wearing tan scrubs. She leaned, as though too weak to walk on her own, against the supporting arms of a wild haired woman in paisley and yellow. The women's shelter advocate sent a glare toward Starsky then used her body to shield the detective from Clare's view as they took their seats.
Dobey had studied Clare's face from the moment she walked in, recognizing the purse to her lips. The gritted teeth behind the pout. It wouldn't convince the judge of anything, but it confirmed Dobey's suspicions. Clare was behind this, all of it, and knew exactly what she was doing.
The bailiff and judge entered quickly and court was brought into session. The judge, T. Haydn,studied the room as its occupants settled.
"The question on the docket today is the following. Can the defense, represented by Mr. Forrest, bring forth evidence that puts reasonable doubt on the charges with which Ms. Donovan has been held, specifically premeditated intent to cause bodily harm to an officer of the law, coercion in the causing of harm to an officer of the law, directly causing grievous harm to an officer of the law, negligent manslaughter, and three counts of false imprisonment. These are the charges you wish to have removed from Ms. Donovan's arrest record, yes, Mr. Forrest?"
"Yes, your honor." Forrest responded, taking the time to stand up before he responded, then sitting again.
The judge gave the man a slow blink, then looked back down to his docket. "DA McCallister, are you prepared to defend these charges?"
"I am, your honor." The DA said, remaining standing.
"Please proceed."
The DA's truncated recounting of the past month or so took a minute. The drug evidence Dobey's men had gathered had only a tertiary pertinence to the deal gone bad and car chase on the previous Friday, the attack against his men the previous Saturday, and the hostage situation in the library on Sunday.
The county's case began with sworn statements from the three librarians, and a statement made a week ago by Clare's goon, Willy. Dobey got on the stand to attest to the state of the library and his men when he arrived on the scene.
The physical evidence the DA had to offer included the baseball bat, complete with blood tests that showed it had been used against a person with the same blood type as both Jessie, and Hutchinson; the doctor's reports and x-rays for Starsky, Hutchinson and Jessie that showed injuries consistent with a beating from a baseball bat; the blood stained clothes Clare had been wearing that day with matching blood type different from her own; and the slew of case files and witness testimonies that Dobey had collected in Indiana.
Dobey's bag was still lost in transit, along with the better of his suit jackets and the testimony of Clare's stepfather, but the DA and Bay City PD had brought everything else to bare, with McCallister there to lay it out in a business-like manner.
The last person to give evidence was Starsky. As planned, the DA requested that the detective, as the result of his injury, be permitted to give testimony from where he was. The judge agreed without hesitation and sat back prepared to hear much of what had already been said, all over again.
Starsky told the story of his participation in the events of Sunday, from realizing that something was wrong in the library because of the absence of a usual patron on the stoop, to watching Clare hold Jessie's head still while he suffocated to death.
Through the entire retelling Clare sat pale faced and shaking, bursting into tears were dramatically appropriate but clenching her jaw and lifting her head again bravely after every outburst. The women's advocate could be heard through the whole ordeal, whispering reassurances to her charge.
By the time Starsky had finished he was sweating, his arms were quaking against the armrests of the chair, desperately trying to stay upright despite the pain that was no longer being masked by pain killers.
The judge seemed distracted by it, but pushed ahead, nodding briefly to the bailiff. A man with the name of Jones on a plaque, pinned to the breast pocket of his uniform came over to the DA's table bending toward Starsky. Dobey leaned in putting a supportive hand on Starsky's vibrating shoulder.
"What's the matter, son?" Jones asked quietly, looking to the DA and Dobey in the same moment.
Starsky closed his eyes tightly for a moment, dragged a breath in and quietly said, "They stop giving you good painkillers when they hear you're being accused of raping a twenty-one-year-old."
Dobey swore under his breath. He wouldn't have expected Simonetti to go so low as to start the smear campaign inside the hospital that was holding Starsky. But then Dr. Lewis had clearly known more than his share. Dobey should have guessed Bellevue would find out.
"We need to get him to a hospital." Dobey hissed through gritted teeth.
"No, I wanna stay." Starsky insisted, panting softly.
"You're sweating through your shirt, Starsky. You look like you're about to pass out-"
DA McCallister interrupted, shaking his head. "Dobey, if your man isn't here to respond to the questions Donovan's attorney has for him, they can say anything they want to the judge and it will take that much longer to convince him otherwise. The sooner we nip this in the bud, the better."
"Besides, the sooner we shut up those nut jobs, the sooner I can get to Hutch-"
"Bailiff." The call came from the bench, the single word cutting Donovan's attorney off mid-sentence. Jones gave Starsky one last sympathetic look then stood and walked to the front of the bench. The conversation between the officer of the court and the judge took a single minute, then the bailiff stepped away.
Judge Haydn sat at his bench writing for another minute, filling a single page with scribble before he handed it off to the bailiff. Jones left the room and Judge Haydn turned back to Donovan's attorney.
Without any hint of apology for the interruption he said, "You may continue."
"As I was saying…" Forrest began, "It is my intention today to have the charges of negligent homicide, premeditated coerci-"
"This is a hearing, Forrest, not a jury trial, don't waste my time." Haydn said.
"Very well…" Forrest hesitated, struggling for a moment to regather his thoughts. "I'd like to ask Clare Donovan to the stand."
"Mr. Forrest, as you can see my bailiff has left the room and isn't available to swear in any witnesses. Have you any other evidence to bring before the court that doesn't require his presence?"
Dobey sat back, surprised, a slow smile threatening to break across his lips.
Clare's attorney started to hunt through the piles of papers on the table in front of him, hemming and hawing. Clare was squirming in her seat and Dryden and Simonetti exchanged a glance before glaring toward the men hunched around Starsky.
"Forrest, you're new to my courtroom, and are therefore not aware. I won't drop charges based entirely on the testimony of the accused. "He said, she said" is one of those arguments they teach us not to get into at judge school."
There was a small ripple of snide laughter that went through the gathering at the back of the courtroom.
"Most of the evidence I have, relies on the testimony of my witness...your honor." Forrest finally blurted.
"In that case we will have to postpone this hearing." Haydn said, raising his gavel.
Before it could land Simonetti had shot to his feet and shouted, "Wait a minute!" Without preamble the sneering man grabbed Forrest's sleeve and yanked the attorney close enough to force harsh whispers into his ear. Forrest squirmed then started to argue vehemently, and Simonneti's mannerisms grew more vicious.
When they finally broke apart Simonetti shoved Forrest back toward the table top strewn with information and hissed, "Do it!"
Forrest straightened his jacket, pulled his collar away from his throat and said, "Your honor, the defense would like to enter the following photographs into evidence. They are...highly sensitive in nature and depict an act of violation against my client by a person matching the description of Detective Sergeant Starsky."
The judge sat back and pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. He sat for a long time, staring Forrest down, then Simonetti and Dryden. He only glanced at Starsky who had since turned sideways in his chair, trying to relieve the raw pain his leg, his orange jumpsuit soaked through with sweat.
Finally the judge looked at Dobey. "Captain Dobey, District Attorney McCallister, Sergeant Starsky, have all of you seen these photos? If you so attest, please answer "yes"."
"Yes." Dobey said, feeling a familiar sickness in his stomach.
"Yes." McCallister echoed, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment.
"No." Starsky managed, surprising most in the room.
"I believe Sergeant Starsky has the right to view evidence that may be used against him, prior to its use in court. Mr. Forrest, why was Sergeant Starsky not given time to view this evidence?"
"H-h-he's been unconscious, sedated up until a few hours ago."
"How do you know this, Mr. Forrest?" The judge asked.
"I…" Forrest looked behind him to Simonetti and Dryden then looked back to the judge. "I was told."
"By whom?"
Forrest's gaze fell to the table and he stood stalling for a moment, wishing he hadn't let Simonetti push him into using the photos so soon.
"Answer the question, Mr. Forrest."
"By Officers Simonetti and Dryden."
"Mr. Forrest, you chose not to follow through on your professional obligation to this court, and wasted my time, based on the medical expertise of two officers from Internal Affairs?"
Forrest's head dropped to his chest again and remained there.
"For that matter, Officers Simonetti and Dryden, if Forrest's assertion is true and you have been made aware of Detective Starsky's medical condition and treatment, I can only assume that you, knowingly, allowed a prisoner to suffer undue discomfort while still in your legal custody."
Simonetti opened his mouth, a finger straying toward where Starsky was sagging against his chair, but he couldn't get a protest out before the judge asked, "Forrest, aside from the testimony of the accused, and the evidence that has been rendered inadmissible because of lack of due process... do you have anything to present to this court that might shed reasonable doubt on the charges against Ms. Donovan?"
Forrest shot an angry glare over his shoulder, pinning Simonetti to his chair, then tapped his fingers against the table in stalled frustration and said, "No, your honor."
"Do you plan to appeal?" The judge asked.
Forrest glanced sideways to his client then jolted forward a bit, his eyes closing when Simonetti hit his shoulder. "Yes, your honor."
"Then you have two hours to draw up the paperwork." Haydn said, leaning back in his chair, his hand closing around the gavel. "Until my bailiff is able to return, and this officer has received proper medical care and has been offered a chance to view all the evidence being used against him, this hearing is in recess." The gavel came down and the officer at the back of the courtroom opened the double doors letting in the ambulance crew that the bailiff had been sent to call.
The gurney was rushed down the side aisle and Starsky helped onto it before the bailiff directed them into a small ante chamber.
There was room enough for the bed and three chairs, two of which had to be removed so that the EMTs could work. Authorized to provide fluids and Darvocet, the EMTs worked quickly to get Starsky more stable. By the time the EMTs left, exiting the room to give Starsky and Dobey privacy, Starsky was a weak, panting mess lying on his side on the gurney.
The bed had been pushed against the far wall, the IV of fluids hanging from a nail that had been supporting a painting. They would have to return the painting to its nail when they left.
The knock came a few minutes later and the bailiff poked his head in. "Exhibits A through F for the defense. I'll be right outside the door, just knock when you're done." Jones said, then handed a stack of folders into the room.
Starsky dragged his eyes open long enough to acknowledge Jones' presence then snapped them closed again.
"When was the last time you got a decent night's sleep?"
"Two weeks ago." Starsky said, mumbling, but with little hesitation.
"I think you should look at these." Dobey said.
"Just tell me…" Starsky slurred.
"Starsky...these photos were on the film of your camera. The camera was in the GTO that you got from impound. It's damning stuff, you need to look at them."
Starsky's eyes popped open and Dobey realized they were bloodshot and wet. They hadn't had a lot of opportunities to talk about the case, or Clare since the whole thing began. The look in Starsky's eyes reminded the captain of weeks ago, when Starsky would bring up Clare's name and he and Hutch would exchange a look.
Starsky had cared about the girl, on some level, and she was now turning on him.
A shaking arm flopped down on the bed, Starsky's hand open. Dobey put the stack of developed photos into his hand and watched Starsky flip through them.
The whole film had been developed and included, to show that nothing had been edited, removed or added. Every frame had to be accounted for. There were some photos of a Bay City sunrise, buildings, and morning people on the street.
Then a picture of a bare back, a red hand print and a bra strap. Then a picture of the side of a female face pressed against a cracking, black leather seat. Another of the same face, crying, showed the GTO symbol against the door in the background. Then the face, a hand over her mouth, the hand sporting a designer pinky ring. The ring Starsky regularly wore on his left hand.
The rest showed more detail and became more risque and gruesome. The point of the photos was obvious. The subject wasn't consenting, the photographer was taking advantage in every way, filming the act as it happened.
Toward the end, before the photos were the blank black of empty frames, Clare must have "stolen" the camera and taken a blurry photo of her attacker.
It was, in fact, the only blurry photo in the bunch. There was a puff of curly hair and a dark angular face, the sunlight behind it making the face hard to identify, but with Clare's verification that it had been Starsky, and a comparison of the ring in the photo to the ring that Starsky always wore, it would seem that the photos were conclusive.
"What else have they got?" Starsky asked, sounding more coherent, and more drained.
"The long haired drug buyer and the green sedan that you and Hutch chased out of the garage…"
"What about it?"
"Simonetti and Dryden found both, based on a tip, pushed off a pier on the south side. The blonde OD'd and drowned. The tipster said he would testify to seeing you push the car into the ocean."
Carefully Starsky worked at sitting up, nodding his head.
"The blonde guy-" Dobey continued.
"Pete." Starsky said, the name suddenly popping into his memory. "He's the one that stabbed Hutch."
"He'd been dead since Saturday night."
"She got rid of him fast." Starsky muttered, working until his back was against the wall.
"Clare's claiming that he was a witness to the...to the attack. And that's why you got rid of him."
Starsky's face was closed around the pain that, even dulled by the Darvocet, had awakened in the raw edges of bone and torn ligaments.
Dobey watched his man closely. "She's got a reason for every move she's made since Saturday. But none of it is any good without these photos "proving" what you did to her."
"I didn't do it."
"Starsky, I know that." Dobey said.
"No...Cap...I'm left handed. I take photos with my left hand. I have a left handed camera with the shutter button on both sides. I couldn't take a picture this clear, with just my right hand, if my life depended on it. Besides if I was taking photos while I was…" Starsky swallowed back the rise of his stomach and leaned his head back against the wall for a minute. "All of these photos are crystal clear. She's crying but she's not fighting, she's not moving. She's posing. The only blurry photo is the one she took, because it had to be blurry, because this isn't me!" Starsky held the final photo up then tossed it at the pile.
McCallister knocked on the door a second later and glanced in. He caught the distressed, but less pained look on Starsky's face, the scatter of photos on the gurney, the IV hanging from a nail then looked to Dobey. "You're smiling."
"You should be, too." Dobey said, then repeated what Starsky had just said.
"How do we prove you're left handed."
"I'll write something."
McCallister shook his head. "It's a start, but it's something the defense could contest."
"With Simonetti pounding on his shoulders, Forrest would contest the moon."
"Judge Haydn doesn't strike me as the patient type. He didn't just postpone the hearing, he made Forrest refile appeal papers." Dobey said.
McCallister nodded, "I've never seen a judge intentionally send his bailiff out of the room, then let the hearing continue and refuse a witness. Technically he can do it, but most would have wanted to keep the process moving. Haydn's making life hard for Forrest." McCallister went silent for a moment then looked to Starsky. "When did they cut you off from the pain meds?"
"Twenty-four hours ago. They were givin' me pills, but the good stuff went out the window once the hearing date was set."
"Judge's orders?" McCallister asked.
Starsky shrugged.
"It might have been at your expense, but I think we've got a guardian angel in the justice department. The "appeal" starts in an hour. Rest up."
"I'd rather make a phone call." Starsky said, glancing to his captain.
It took Dobey a minute but he nodded. "I'll ask the bailiff."
Ten minutes later Starsky had been cuffed to his crutches again, and with Dobey trailing behind him with the IV bag, an escort of two police officers and Simonetti protesting down the hall, Starsky stood at the bank of payphones in the lobby and made his call.
Dr. Dean answered after the first ring and lifted the plastic so that he could place the phone near the ear of the unresponsive patient.
"Hey Hutch...listen, buddy I got about half-an-hour and a pocket full of dimes. I got a lot to tell ya, so hush up."
For a solid half-hour Starsky talked. A little about the case, and the recent events that had pulled him from his partner's side, but mostly about their plans after. With a blind optimism that denied that Starsky could be incarcerated for life, or worse, and that denied that Hutch's body could reject the kidney and he could be dead before Starsky saw the light of day again, Starsky prattled on about trips and holidays and movies and roller rinks and anything else he could pull from thin air until he ran out of dimes, and the bailiff tapped his watch.
"I gotta go put bad guys away, Hutch. And I gotta tell ya I'm not too happy with having to do all the work in this partnership. Quit messin' around with that kidney and get better. Nurses don't like yellow." Starsky took a breath then swallowed and said, "Me and thee, don't work with only me. I-"
The operator cut him off, asking for another dime. Starsky fought hard to control himself, then let the handset swing loose from his shoulder. He and the officers assigned to him went one way and Dobey and McCallister the other, separated for the ten minutes it took to get settled in the courtroom.
Then the gavel came down and the fastest appeal ever processed began.