1:07 - The Man on Death Row

Caught off Guard

I had been employed by this prison for three years. Night shifts were usually calm, as most of the inmates were sleeping. It was a thankless job and the personalities of the men incarcerated here wore on my nerves. Most were angry, outspoken, and aggressive. For the longest time I had believed that Howard was unlike them. I had questioned his guilt.

I had even felt a measure of relief on the man's behalf when Andrew sent me to take him from the imitate room back to his cell.

I had seen the innocent cleared before, though never this late in the process. There was always an air of disbelief and there were usually tears. Howard had neither, just a cocky sneer, not unlike a mob member would wear to a trial where he owned the judge and jury.

After securing Howard in his cell, I returned to the guard's office and took my chair in front of the monitors. The man beside me, Andrew, had been working here for over twenty years. He never so much as flinched when things went wrong.

"Your boy, Epps, wasn't innocent," Andrew said.

"Reasonable doubt and a stay?" I asked.

"No. Guilty as Hell," he said definitively.

I was surprised. "I don't understand."

Andrew didn't say anything, just pointed toward a small television in the corner of the room. The local news anchor mutely chattered away, gesturing to the swamp behind her, which was teeming with FBI forensic technicians. The scrolling banner across the bottom of the screen read, "Epps's execution stayed after remains discovered."

"You've got a lot to learn, kid," Andrew warned, motioning to the monitors, most of which displayed sleeping men, "These stupid little gang-bangers got nothing on that monster." He punctuated his sentence by jabbing a finger at the screen showing Howard. "I was on shift when they first brought him in. He was cool and collected, but I could see the devil in his eyes."

I concentrated on the monitors, watching Howard in particular, until Andrew elbowed me. He pointed toward the television. "That's the man who caught him," he said, indicating an agent in a slightly soiled suit who was refusing to comment to the press.

"Who's she?" I asked, indicating the woman who was with the agent.

Andrew shot me an incredulous look. "Doctor Temperance Brennan. If her books are any indication I'd say she's the one who dug up the remains. There's nothing fresh if she's involved."

The next hour was spent in silence as I contemplated how I had mistaken the man.

Then Howard's attorney, Amy, had arrived, followed closely by the arresting agent, who signed in as Special Agent Seeley Booth, and Dr. Temperance Brennan. The interaction between the three was curious. Amy was understandably upset, but she seemed to orient herself toward Agent Booth. He, in turn, kept a hand on the small of Dr. Brennan's back, paying no attention to Amy outside of what professional courtesy dictated.

I let them in to the visitation room and then went to get Howard from his cell. The man was silent as I walked him to the room. I kept my distance, standing near the door as he spoke with the three of them. I wasn't able to hear all of the conversation, but I could pick up enough to know that he was implying that he wanted Amy to continue to represent him. It wasn't long until she left. The expression on her face was unmistakably rage as she pushed her way past me and out the door. I stepped aside a bit hoping to be able to glean something from the faces of the Agent and the Doctor.

He seemed to be thanking them, but the look on his face said it was a game. Judging by the expressions worn by the other two, they knew it. What followed happened so quickly that I might have had to review it on the security tapes had I not been concentrating so hard on the situation before me. Howard reached a hand out toward Dr. Brennan and in one swift move she took his hand and with a jerk slammed it off the table. I know I was standing there agape, watching Howard curl into a ball, cradling his wrist. There was no question in my mind about his injuries. I had heard the bones snap.

The pair facing him stood and turned in unison toward the door. As they passed me by, I cold hear their conversation.

"Are you going to arrest me for assault?" she asked, completely unshaken by what she had just done.

"From what I saw: purely self-defense," Agent Booth replied, and amused lit in his voice.

"Maybe I shouldn't carry a gun after all," she mused.

"Hell, you can borrow mine," came his muttered reply.

Her eyes lit up slightly at that remark, but she said nothing. They passed through the door, and once they reached the hallway, his hand returned to her back. I watched them walk away for a moment, trying to process what I'd just seen before turning back to Howard.

I escorted him to an empty holding cell in the medical ward. The doctor would take care of his wrist when he arrived in the morning. I found that I didn't feel bad about what had just happened to him. It was surprising the difference a few hours could make.

When I returned to the office, Andrew wordlessly handed me a stack of paperwork.

"What's this?"

"He got hurt on your watch," he said with a shrug.

"He had it coming."

Andrew laughed as he pulled up the video feed from the visitation room on one of the monitors. He entered a few commands on the computer and soon the incident was playing as a loop on one of the smaller screens. "She's a feisty one," he finally commented.

"I thought it was funny that the Agent didn't seem surprised," I allowed.

"You're right," he said, watching the screen closely. "They might work together, but she's just a scientist. You think this has happened before?"

"It wouldn't surprise me in the least."

"I don't think much would after the enlightening you had tonight," he replied with a smirk.