Author's Notes:
DCLM: the NYPD's Deputy Commissioner for Legal Matters. For this story, he is Ed Wilson
Strict Liability: "In law, a standard for liability which may exist in either a criminal or civil context. A rule specifying strict liability makes a person legally responsible for the damage and loss caused by his or her acts and omissions regardless of culpability (including fault in criminal law terms, typically the presence of mens rea)." Dworkin is reminding Fontana that NYC carries insurance that covers acts such as Balzano's firing of Fontana and its aftermath. [definition from Wikipedia]
Torts: "…in common law jurisdictions, a tort is a wrong that involves a breach of a civil duty owed to someone else…. A person who suffers a tortious injury is entitled to receive "damages", usually monetary compensation, from the person or people responsible—or liable—for those injuries." [definition from Wikipedia]
balagan: mess, chaos, fiasco (Yiddish/Hebrew loan word probably from Turkish via Russian)
CV: curriculum vitae, the name for a résumé if one is an academic, or a medical or legal professional
Fresh Kills: a closed landfill on Staten Island that was used as a sorting ground for rubble from the World Trade Center towers. Detectives and forensic specialists worked to recover human remains from the two million tons of material brought there.
FINEST: the NYPD's internal e-mail system
Gravitas: (pronounced "grah-WE-tahs" if you know Classical Latin) is a quality of substance or depth of personality; specifically: dignity, seriousness, and duty
To holler 'calf rope': To give up, surrender (Middle Southern and Gulf states) used by the author William Faulkner and in the movie "Paper Moon"
S&W Model 19: according to the Internet Movie Firearms Database () Fontana carries this model although, in Real Life, it never was never approved for official use by the NYPD.
Events in this story move faster than they would in Real Life. Procedures and rulings in this story are designed to reflect the needs of the story, not the realities of the NYPD or the DA's office. Characters curse in this chapter.
Office of Randolph J. Dworkin, Esq.
16 August (Monday) 3:35 p.m.
Randy Dworkin's office was furnished with utilitarian furniture in steel and black with artwork chosen by Jodi, his paralegal, a middle-aged women who today was clad in jeans and a black Woodstock birdie t-shirt.
No polished oak and dress codes for me… my fellow attorneys are too caught up in appearances… we should be judged on our education, our trial experience, and our win/loss ratios, not our stodgy taste in furniture and art.…
As soon as he ended his call from DCLM Edward Wilson, Dworkin called Fontana.
"Your time is up," he told his client, "I need to know what you want, both the maximum and the minimum, because I'm meeting with Branch and Wilson at four-fifteen. So, assuming the minimum is you getting your job back, how does this sound for a maximum: we get the Commissioner to parade through Times Square wearing a dunce hat and a sandwich board reading '"Fontana's the Man'?"
A low growl came through his phone's speaker.
"Cut the clowning," Fontana replied. "Making a fool out of the commissioner won't fix anything."
"You're right," Dworkin told him, "but I'm working in a vacuum here. You keep telling me all you want is your job back, but I can't go into a negotiation with only one bargaining chip. I need things we can give up and things we can stand firm on, but it's up to you to decide which is which—not me."
The silence that followed went on for so long, Dworkin wondered if his client had put his phone down and walked away.
My other clients often have a similar problem—plea bargains are difficult for them because then they have to admit their own guilt… if a jury or a judge tells them "You're guilty," they can still deny it's true… and most of them do keep denying it, which makes for a lot of repeat business… now, Fontana's a very proud man… if he believes some of what happened to him is his fault, then he won't want to admit it… I know he no longer wants to blame Balzano—he made that abundantly clear earlier today….
Dworkin chose his next words very carefully.
"Fontana, there's no way anyone can undo what's been done to you. I can't ask for Wilson and Branch to go back in time and prevent your injuries."
A loud harrumph proved his client was still on the line.
"If they had a time machine," Fontana replied, "better they go back and keep Beale from being born. That would solve everything."
Dworkin let out a sympathetic sigh.
Would that they could….
Fontana continued, "But, since they can't, here's what I want out of them."
Dworkin wrote down the items as Fontana listed them, numbering them as he went. When he had written '#5', but nothing more came from his client, Dworkin spoke up.
"Is that it?"
"Yeah, that'll do."
Dworkin set his pen down and stared at the very short list.
"What about payment of your hospital bills?"
"Not interested."
"And that pricy security detail that's protecting you?"
"They're my concern, not the department's."
Dworkin made a mental note.
If he can swallow bills like those, I should being charging him a heck of a lot more….
He then probed to see if his client had overlooked the obvious.
"How about a bump in pay grade?" he asked. "Something for pain and suffering? A replacement for that chick magnet you were driving?"
"Don't need it; don't want it, and I was going to trade my Benz for something that can handle child seats so I don't need another one."
"You do know the city is insured against strict liability torts, which is exactly what Balzano put them at risk of when Beale blackmailed him. They'll happily pay out to avoid a lawsuit"
"Yeah, I know it, but I'm still not interested. What I told you is all I want."
Dworkin shook his head at Fontana's stubbornness.
"But we have both the NYPD and the DA by the short hairs," he reminded his client. "You can ask for damn near anything, and they'll have polish up the gold platter so they can serve it to you."
There was another long pause.
"In that case," Fontana finally said, "make sure that platter has my service revolver on it. Don't let them tell you they lost it."
Fontana then recited the revolver's model and serial number, which Dworkin noted as item #5.
"Oh, and if you can't get the first thing on the list, walk out. Without that one, there's no deal."
Dworkin eyed the first item, the only one that did not directly pertain to his client.
"Fontana," he said, "your altruism warms my heart—and I mean it."
A low growl from his client told Dworkin how little Fontana cared.
"Just call me when it's over."
An abrupt click ended the call. Dworkin replaced the phone's receiver on its cradle then he frowned at the short list of items.
Sorry, Fontana, but if I ask only for what you want—let alone settle for what you want, then no prosecutor in the state will ever take me seriously again… despite my willingness to have fun in the courtroom, I can't let people think I'm nothing but a clown….
Dworkin took the list from his legal pad then used the next blank page to make up a new list.
I don't care what Fontana's reasons are—someone should have stopped Andrew Beale before this balagan started … that means the DA and the NYPD need to pay for their failures… sure, winning a big settlement will look great on my CV, but that's beside the point… truth is, Fontana deserves it… not that I'll ever say that anywhere he might hear it—no siree, not ever….
SVU Squadroom
16 August (Monday) 3:39 p.m.
When SVU's two shift leads got together to discuss matters, they usually met at one of their desks or in the upstairs lounge. Today, Howie Brewster had beckoned Olivia into the interview room by the captain's office. He left the door open as they took seats by the battered wooden table. Olivia noted that Howie's jaw was set and his face under his red hair looked paler than usual.
"Yesterday afternoon," he said with a nod toward the outer window, "I was standing outside wondering if I'd be sorting debris like I did at Fresh Kills, looking for enough of Fin to bury."
Olivia leaned back from Brewster's bluntness.
"Howie," she said, "I didn't know—"
Brewster cut into her sentence, changing the subject.
"I went from here to Bellevue, where some sergeant from Special Frauds was standing watch over John like she was his wife. Seems we damn near lost him, too. Normally, two near-misses would be more than enough for one day, but then, after I've finally gotten home where I'm thinking about bed, I get a call from Chief Conrad."
He turned away to stare at the one-way glass between them and Cragen's office.
"He tells me Cragen's been shot by Bureau Chief Beale. That's how I find out Beale was stalking our captain right under all our noses, and how we were too stupid to see it."
Brewster turned to glare at Olivia.
"Why the hell didn't Don say something? Why the hell didn't you say something?"
She opened her mouth, but Howie spoke over her reply.
"Why wasn't someone watching Don's back, Liv? Who the hell forced him to go solo? Was it Branch? Richardson? Balzano?"
"It wasn't like that—"
Howie waved off her words.
"I know; I know. Some asshole decided secrecy was the best way to handle it—so what if it left Don out in the cold by himself? Call it just another standard NYPD clusterfuck. Happens every day. We should be used to it by now."
Olivia winced at the sarcasm in Howie's voice.
But that's exactly what it was… a string of reasonable decisions that went horribly wrong….
Brewster dropped his hands to his side then he scowled at Benson.
"Next time I tell you to keep your shit on your own shift, don't listen to me. Bring us in and let us help. Don't make me get news like this over the phone, okay?"
Olivia gaped at Brewster for a moment then she drew in a deep breath and put on her sweetest smile.
"Sure thing, Howie," she told him. "Next time the DA orders me to keep things confidential, I'll call you. I know Branch won't mind."
Howie's rude snort was followed by a sheepish grin of his own.
"Don't mind me. I'm just blowing off steam. I know, no matter how hard we try, sometimes it still turns to shit."
Olivia nodded at the truth of his words.
This was definitely one of those times….
"Now," Howie said, '"the Commissioner's office called. They're sending someone to the shift meeting to bring us up-to-date."
Olivia stifled a frown at the news.
I wonder what version of the truth we'll be fed… better not say that out loud… not until I know how this is being played….
"Well," she replied, "I've been completely out of the loop. After I saw Don this morning, I went home and crashed."
"Fin and Elliot are at home," Howie told her. "I've talked to both of them and Munch. He's still at Bellevue, but he should be released tomorrow morning. Elliot told me his shooting review hasn't been scheduled yet. His rep is pushing for a date and time, but so far, nothing."
Olivia leaned back in her chair and sighed.
That makes it Donna, Couch, Judith, and me this shift with Chester on desk duty… we'll be running on caffeine and not much else, but there's nothing I can do about that ….
When she turned her attention back to Howie, he said, "Dan and Amanda volunteered to stay on if you want them, although I don't know who'll sign for their overtime."
The offer put a weary smile on Olivia's face.
"Well, we certainly could use the help. Maybe we can finesse the OT until the new captain gets here—it's Van Buren, right?"
Howie's mouth twisted as though he did not trust the presumed flexibility of their new CO.
"We can hope," he told Benson. "Now, here's what we're working…."
Four o'clock found SVU's detectives gathered in a circle around Detective Sergeant Michelle Young, the "someone from the commissioner's office." As she brought them up to date, Olivia mentally weighed the official version of the facts against the truth.
She started with a statement about Don's condition—'resting comfortably' and 'should be released from the hospital by the end of the week'… that made everyone perk up a little… Young then said Don was the one who first suspected Beale of being a predator—no mention about him being Beale's intended victim… Don took his suspicions to the DA, who tied them to Marc Newman's suicide then asked Don to set himself up as Beale's prey in order to catch the bureau chief… the way Young tells it, the DA brought Elliot and me in to check on an unrelated suspicion about Beale being tied to Fontana's firing… not that I mind her omitting how Elliot and I failed to find anything to support Don's suspicions… I'm going to kick myself for that for a long, long time….
The rest of Sgt. Young's explanation went as Olivia thought it might go.
While checking out the Beale-Fontana link, Fontana provided proof that Beale was into homosexual bondage—everyone is sneaking looks at Judith… she just went red… funny how she can control her expression but not her blushing… Young then said further investigation by Elliot and me uncovered evidence of previous rapes committed by Beale, which got us a warrant for Beale's arrest, which put us at Don's home just as Don was shooting it out with Beale… I'm damn glad Young did not describe that scene… instead, she expressed gratitude that everything came together in time… a sentiment I completely agree with….
The assembled detectives took a few moments to digest the information.
Young didn't say a word about Balzano… maybe the brass hopes we'll forget about him….
The quiet was broken by a question from Donna Loudoun.
"Sergeant, ma'am—is the First Dep's disappearance also tied to Bureau Chief Beale?"
Olivia hid a smile at her friend's boldness.
Leave it to Donna to blurt out what everyone else is wondering… Young told her she can't comment at this time, and that further updates will be released via FINEST… her answer shut down further curiosity….
Olivia tuned out the praise for the unit that Sgt. Young next conveyed.
I know we deserve it—hell, the entire department didn't handle the amount of crap that landed on us yesterday… but I'm too damn tired to care about praise… all I want is for us to get through this shift safely ….
When the sergeant finished speaking, Howie stepped up to detail the current cases. While he did so, Young beckoned Olivia to the back of the squadroom.
"You just heard the official take on the Beale matter," Young told her. "I trust you'll stick to the script if anyone asks."
"Yes, ma'am," Olivia replied.
Hell, it beats a whitewash of Beale with Don as the scapegoat….
"Inspector Renault," the sergeant continued, "will handle any required authorizations for your unit until Captain Van Buren takes command."
Olivia smiled at the news.
I'll get Dan and Amanda's OT slips to him pronto….
"Also, and for your ears only, Detective Stabler will be back tomorrow. His shooting of Eshan will be ruled 'justified.' "
Olivia's smile widened.
"Now, I need to talk to the detectives from your shift who were at Kings County last night with Captain Cragen," the sergeant next said. "Could you point them out to me?"
Olivia's smile vanished.
You better not take anyone away from me… I need every warm body I've got….
"Let's see," she replied, "Detective Otten rode with Captain Cragen—she's the one in the gray pants suit with the blue blouse. Detective Sofarelli arrived later—light blue shirt and navy tie. Detectives Loudoun and Lake were handling things here and at Bellevue."
Sergeant Young nodded her thanks then she took a step toward the detectives gathered around Howie. Olivia sidestepped to stay even with her.
"May I ask why you need them?" she asked.
Young ignored the question and kept moving. While Olivia fumed, the sergeant walked up behind Couch and whispered something to him. He then followed her into the interview room.
With the door shut behind them… wish I could read lips… whatever it is, Couch is shaking his head….
After barely a minute, Couch left the interview. He beckoned to Judith, who got up from her desk and entered the interview room, closing the door behind her. Olivia watched through the window as the same scene repeated itself.
Except for Judith pissing off Young… she snapped something back at Judith then left in a hurry… she had her cell phone to her ear by the time she hit the hallway… Judith grabbed her phone, too… everyone is staring after the sergeant, but Couch is focused on Judith… I have to find out what the hell is going on….
Olivia went to the interview room. Despite her hurrying, all Olivia heard was the end of Judith's conversation.
"Call me back when you get this'… sounds like she left someone a message….
Benson leaned against the door frame…
I could go to sleep right here….
…then she asked the older woman if anything was wrong.
"Not yet," Judith replied. "It depends on whether Randolph Dworkin is as good as he says he is, and if he is fast enough to beat IAB."
The acronym set Olivia back on her feet.
"IAB?" she repeated. "What the hell for?"
Judith let out a long sigh, then she said, "Because the commissioner and the DA are trying to find out who told Joe's attorney about Balzano and Beale."
"I know," Olivia replied. "Conrad asked me about that this morning. Are you part of that or are they just fishing?"
Judith's expression went blank as she recited, "On the advice of my attorney…."
Oh, shit….
Before Olivia could express her dismay, Judith added, "Randolph Dworkin, whom I retained last week right after the First Dep threatened me."
Olivia took a moment to puzzle over Judith's statement.
"Balzano was coming after you?"
"Yes," Judith said with a shrug, "but that's moot now. The immediate threat is Sgt. Young. When I told her I wouldn't answer any questions without my rep and my attorney, she said I should expect a visit from the rats forthwith."
Judith ended that sentence with a weak smile.
"I'm sorry about this, Liv. The last thing you need is another detective with problems."
Olivia glanced back at the squadroom, where Howie's shift was leaving for home while her people, plus Amanda and Dan, were settling in for the evening shift.
Damn right it's the last thing I need… but, if you found out about Beale's blackmail and passed the info to Joe, I can't blame you… but the brass won't see it my way… fuck-ups like this one always need a fall guy and it looks like you just nominated yourself for the job….
She turned back to face Judith.
If the rat squad wants you, they're going to have to work for it….
"I'm putting you with Couch tonight," she told the older woman. "The two of you will handle the follow-ups for Howie's shift. Don't check in; keep moving, and you and I never discussed any of this, okay?"
Judith stayed just long enough to grin at Benson before she rushed from the room. Olivia watched as she tapped Couch on the shoulder and spoke briefly to him. Couch then snatched his jacket and the stack of case notes that Howie had left by the copier. Before Olivia made it back to her desk, the two detectives were out of sight.
Conference Room
Office of the Manhattan District Attorney
16 August 4:22 p.m.
Arthur Branch was well aware of the impression conveyed by both the furnishings and the prestige of the office of the District Attorney of the County of New York.
I sit in my chair like a jewel sits in a very magnificent setting... between that and my own authority and gravitas, I usually manage to awe—if not intimidate—anyone who might want to make me holler 'calf rope'….
Unfortunately, Branch was not in his office. Instead, he was seated on one side of a city-issued conference table in a room down the hall from his office. At his side was the man who shared official responsibility for the actions of Bureau Chief Andrew Beale: Ed Wilson, the police department's Deputy Commissioner for Legal Matters, a man who looked much the worse for wear.
Can't say I blame him… I'm not feeling too perky myself right now….
Across the table from the two men sat one of the many banes of Jack McCoy's existence. Judging from the sigh he emitted when he took his seat, Randolph Dworkin also felt a tad tired.
"This has really been something," Dworkin told the two men. "Who knew, when I took Detective Fontana as my client, that it would come down to the three of us gathered together to discuss the niceties of suicide, blackmail, and attempted murder?"
Wilson frowned at Dworkin. Branch hid a smile.
Ed's a good guy, but he doesn't relish a good fight… now, me—I like to wrassle with a worthy opponent and Dworkin is no dummy, even if his clown act knots Jack's knickers whenever they meet up….
Branch's cell phone chimed. He took it from his pocket and glanced at its screen.
"My apologies, gentlemen," he announced as he left his seat and walked to the far end of the conference room.
It's just as I feared… Alexandra is the source of the leak about the blackmail… Jack says she did it out of pity for Fontana and his fiancée's worrying over him… a fine sentiment, but her loyalties should have been to this office and her boss… I told Jack I'd back him on this and I will… losing Miss Borgia is a damn shame, but it can't be helped….
Branch beckoned to Ed Wilson to join him. When he did, Arthur gave him the news.
Wilson told me he already has his bird dogs sniffing around Detective Otten… I said I didn't think Otten's passing on the info she got from Borgia was a firing offense… judging from Ed's scowl, he doesn't agree with me… be that as it may—it's his decision, not mine… I've already sacrificed one good person on the altar of departmental justice today….
The two men returned to their seats. Branch ignored Dworkin's bright-eyed curiosity.
Far as I'm concerned, there's no need to tell Dworkin about Borgia… I'm sure he already knows she was the source of his info about Beale….
As soon as Wilson and Branch were seated, Dworkin grinned at them.
"So, how do you want to begin this?' he asked. "Shall we haggle—I ask for the moon and you offer me a speck of moon dust—or shall we address this as intelligent men who can and do acknowledge the heinous wrongs done against my client by the First Deputy Commissioner?"
Wilson grunted his displeasure.
"Anthony Balzano was coerced into terminating your client."
"That may well be," Dworkin replied, "and, perhaps, we will get around to stipulating the truth of your contention but, whatever the intent, the consequences of said action left my client grievously injured and open to the nonexistent mercies of several would-be murderers—not to mention the vast sums of his own money he is spending on his medical and security expenses."
Branch leaned back in his chair. He took care to keep his expression neutral even though Dworkin's ability to say all those words without pausing to breathe had impressed him.
This young man is clever, clever and quick… he knows we're over a barrel… what he doesn't know is that the mayor and the insurance company have already approved a payout to cover Fontana's expenses—one that includes an additional large sum if he'll forgo any lawsuits against my office, the police, and the city… the mayor wants this to go away… Tim and I agree that nothing is gained by drawing it out… I could step in and make the offer right now, but where would be the fun in that?
He glanced at Wilson, noting how frustrated the DCLM appeared to be.
Ed's on board with this, but it goes against his nature to give in without a fight… he'll argue so he doesn't seem weak… I'll argue because I want to see what tricks Dworkin has up his sleeve….
Wilson opened a leather portfolio then picked up his pen, a sign that he was ready for action. Before he could speak, Dworkin held up his hand.
"Before we get down to serious business," he said, "there is one item that my client absolutely insisted must be agreed upon before we begin. In fact, Fontana considers this so important that he has instructed me to end negotiations and walk out if you do not agree to it."
Branch sent a sideways glance in Wilson's direction. Wilson raised one eyebrow and frowned in reply.
Okay, I'll bite….
Branch folded his hands before him and peered at Dworkin.
"And this item is—?"
"Full and complete immunity from all internal and external charges and disciplinary actions resulting in any way from the actions of Bureau Chief Andrew Beale and First Deputy Commissioner Anthony Balzano for New York City Police Detectives Edward Green, Nina Cassady, and Judith Otten."
Dworkin slid a sheet of paper from his own leather portfolio then he placed it on the table facing Wilson and Branch.
"Just so you know to which three detectives I refer, I have their shield numbers and tax registry numbers here."
Branch eyed the paper with suspicion.
I know about Otten, but what did Green and his partner do to warrant immunity?
Wilson inclined his head toward the wall behind him, a sign that he wanted to discuss things with the DA. Branch slid his chair back from the table and swung around until his back faced Dworkin, a motion Wilson copied.
"What's this about immunity?" Branch asked, "and what do Green and Cassady have to do with Borgia?"
"Nothing," Wilson replied. "I think this stems from an unauthorized sting operation the three detectives staged last week. Since it led to the arrests of several high-level drug dealers in the Bronx, these three received only verbal reprimands. Other than that, Green and Cassady are in the clear."
Branch took a moment to ponder the situation.
So Dworkin is using Green and Cassady as a screen to cover a request for Otten to be cleared of receiving leaked information… I like it… but there's something missing….
"Why isn't Fontana," he asked, "seeking for immunity for himself? After all, he's the one with a folder filled with unresolved complaints?"
"Maybe that comes later in the negotiation," Wilson said with a shrug.
Branch frowned at his friend.
"C'mon, Ed. If you were in Dworkin's place, wouldn't you make immunity for your client you first order of business?"
"Damn right I would. Think this is a trap?"
Branch glanced over his shoulder at Dworkin, who caught his gaze then made an ostentatious show of checking his watch.
"Let's keep our eyes open for trip wires," he told Wilson. "In the meantime, can you live with Otten getting a pass on helping out her fiancé with leaked information?"
Wilson pursed his lips as though disgusted by the question.
"The instructions I have are to close this matter in an equitable and swift manner," he replied. "Are you happy with having only your office take the heat for this leak?"
Branch snorted at the question.
"I wouldn't say 'happy,'" he replied, "but it's better than no deal."
Wilson then moved his chair back to the conference table. Branch followed as the DCLM let out a small sigh before addressing Dworkin.
"Detectives Green, Cassady, and Otten have their immunity. I trust they have done nothing that would damage the reputation of the department."
Dworkin's grin did not ease Wilson's concern.
"I'm certain you have nothing to worry about," he replied. "Now, let's move to the next item on my list."
Hospital Room of Donald Cragen
Kings County Hospital, Brooklyn, NY
16 August 4:51 p.m.
Don Cragen had spent the day dozing.
There weren't very many visitors—Lynnie said she told everyone to give me a day or two to recover before they came by… Lee Kidman ignored her…he said he was here last night along with Phil Cerretta—he said, the next time the three of us get together, we should meet somewhere besides a hospital… that's when I found out how much laughing hurts… Walter Luntz from the endowment association also came by to see if I needed any legal help… I don't think so—at least, I hope not… and my neighbor Wally was here while I was asleep… he asked Lynnie how I was then he told her how all the techs and traffic kept him awake last night… I'll have to smooth things over with him and Beverly….
His sleep between visitors was not as restful as Don might have liked.
Every time I nodded off, I saw Andrew pulling his Kel-Tec from his pocket… I was back fighting for my life in my own kitchen….
When he woke up from the last dreamed go-around with Beale, Don found Tullia sitting in his sister's place by his bed.
Dressed in a black pants suit with no jewelry, only her silver crucifix… no make-up, either… her nose is red and her eyes are all puffy and closed… maybe she's praying… for me? If I took a turn for the worse, wouldn't someone wake me up to tell me?
"Tullia," he asked, "what's wrong?"
Sixty seconds later, Don was trying to make sense of her news.
They pulled her brother's body from the water off Red Hook… she says he killed himself because Andrew blackmailed him into firing some detective, and into ordering the Six-Four to ignore requests to check on me….
"They found a letter Tony wrote," Tullia continued. "It said he was sorry for hurting Sylvia and for not protecting Paulie, and for ruining that detective's life and the department's reputation, but there's nothing about him being sorry for what he did to you. I know Tony didn't like you, but it's like he thought you deserved to be—to be…"
Don saw Tullia retch then swallow hard.
"It's okay," he assured her. "You don't have to say it."
Tullia's head bobbed in reply then she said, "Everyone is crying about how Tony was forced to do these things, and how horrible it must have been for him, but nobody's asking how come Tony didn't have Beale arrested? My brother was the second-in-command of the whole damn police force—how could anyone get away with blackmailing him? Why someone see what Tony was doing and stop him before…."
Tullia gulped once then she covered her face with her hands and began to shake. Don stretched his hand to her, but his fingers barely brushed the top of her head..
I don't know why… other than no one would think to question the first deputy commissioner… and Beale was so damn good, no one suspected him at all… the way Liv explained it this morning, everyone had a piece of the puzzle, but none of us knew the pieces fit together… I still don't know who finally figured it out and how….
"It's all right," he said, hoping to soothe the sobbing woman. "It's okay."
Tullia jerked her head up and stared at him with red-rimmed eyes.
"You're okay," she said, "but Tony—my brother. He's not okay. He's—"
Don saw her mouth form a 'd' but the rest of the word failed to come out. Instead, Tullia scooted her chair forward to the bedside so she could press her face against his shoulder while she sobbed. Don, mindful of the tubes and sensors, managed to wrap her in an awkward hug.
Go ahead and cry… he's your brother and he deserves your tears… but don't ask me to mourn… not until someone answers all my questions… not until I'm convinced we aren't better off without him….