I got some feedback on the last chapter, and I'm expecting some on this one so I want to remind y'all that I'm NOT a lawyer/prosecutor/legal person at all. Also, I'm not from Virginia - I'm from Colorado. My laws here are wildly different in some aspects than they are for Aria. I used the code of Virginia laws from virginia . gov and interpreted them as best I could for the circumstances in the story.
I've never been arrested or dealt with the court system so all the information/proceedings/verbiage used was googled. For reference, I used the 'How Courts Work' resource from americanbar . org, a few friends that have experience in the court system, and videos taken at actual bench trial hearings to be as accurate as possible. I took a lot of wording from actual court transcripts for similar cases. I know this may not be accurate (and I only stress this because y'all are worlds smarter than me and have experience in all this) but I try my best to be factual.
If you DO have any knowledge of the court system, Virginia law, or cases similar to what Aria's going through I would love to have your input on how I can be more accurate!
One Week Ago
The most terrifying part of fighting Connor was knowing we had done everything exactly as it should've been done, only to realize we were still six steps behind him.
The arraignment that Monday had been a show of Mr. Sullivan, Connor's lawyer – no, I'm sorry, my family's lawyer that had undoubtedly been offered to the sleeze-bag by my parent – attempted to advocate that his rights had somehow been violated in the arrest. When that had been tossed out the window thanks to Hotch and his swift-yet-lawful apprehension methods, things had moved fast.
Normally, a case like this would've taken at least a month from arraignment to sentencing. Between Hotch's over-preparedness, Mr. Sullivan's insistence on a speedy trial, and an overwhelmed justice system, it'd been agreed to set the trial date for Friday. Everyone involved was eager to try and move things along as swiftly as possible.
So far, Hotch had called every single move Connor had made. From the rights-violation bullshit to the measly $500 bond being paid almost immediately, even the fact that no plea bargain was offered… it was like Hotch had written the script Connor and Mr. Sullivan were acting out. We could plan, play-by-play, what their next move would be.
Up until now, at least. We'd just gotten word that Connor's request to refuse a jury and opt for a bench trial had been approved. It was the first move that didn't make sense and we couldn't figure out why Connor would be playing in our favor.
It was just another piece of his puzzle and Hotch and I were trying to figure out the picture before he finished it.
"It's good for us there won't be a jury, right?" I asked my stoic, brooding prosecuting attorney, glancing up at him as I paced by yet again. Hotch – standing stone-still a few steps beside me – gave a swift nod.
"It's beneficial that we won't have to worry about emotion or sympathy swaying a juror, and we'll only need to worry about convincing one person instead of six."
I knew that tone. I tried to keep the anxiety at bay as I hinted, "but…?"
"But, it's a bold move that statistically helps us more than them. Judge Rumlow is campaigning for a Senate seat, and part of his platform is built on reducing crime," Hotch explained, brow furrowing a hint deeper with each moment that passed. "In order to deter crime, he normally gives harsher sentences for first-time offenders in an attempt to prevent them from repeating the offenses. A bench trial with Rumlow is something they'd only be doing if they were certain it'd be a benefit for them in the long run."
"So we have to rely on the case you built," I reasoned, more to calm myself down from the panic trying to creep up on me. "Which we've confirmed is pretty damn solid."
We'd met with Howard Fulton – Rossi's personal attorney he'd called in for help – just yesterday to triple-cross our T's and over-dot our I's. He was so impressed with what Hotch put together he didn't have a thing to add.
Hotch gave another nod. "We have a very good case. Granted, we'll probably lose the charges for stalking, but the trespassing and assault with battery should hold up."
Two charges. Two was good. That gave us reason to push for at least twenty-four months in jail, possibly more if Hotch could get him for aggravated assault.
"I shouldn't have fought back," I sighed, regretting my actions exactly like I knew I would. "Besides leaving marks on him, it just keeps you from going for aggravated battery, too. If he'd done more damage to me –"
"I'm thankful I don't have grounds to request aggravated battery. Scraped knees are more than should've happened to you in the first place," he cut in, falling quiet for a moment. His eyes flicked away from me as he offered yet again, "we can still ask to postpone the hearing, and we can ask Howard to step in as your prosecutor instead."
My face softened and I paused my pacing to look up at him. He met my eyes, and couldn't put his mask back in place quick enough. The guilt he kept adamantly denying had just seemed to grow heavier with each day that went by.
"I don't want Howard. I want Prosecutor Hotch," I insisted again, smiling in an attempt to get him to smile in return. When he just pressed his lips together in a displeased frown I continued softly, "it wasn't your fault, okay? I'm perfectly fine. I mean, I bet I won't even have scars thanks to Spencer. Please stop blaming yourself."
"Aria –"
"There's no one I'd rather have fighting for me than you," I told him simply, hoping he could hear the honesty in my voice – and that he'd pay attention to it.
He sighed, and though he still refused to agree to my request, our ongoing argument was put on hold when we caught sight of the team filing into the courthouse. Spencer's eyes were the first to meet mine. The comforting smile he gave soothed the panic in my chest almost instantly, hope peeking out from the dark shadows around us as the others gathered with Hotch and I. With the team backing us up, I felt like we might just pull this off.
"With all due respect, your honor, the plaintiff's claims of stalking are circumstantial at best, and direct slander at its worst. Every instance of my client's encounters with Ms. DiMaggio in the last month were happenstance and her claims of feeling unsafe were of her own opinion. They hold no more fact than if she were to say she felt unsafe right now."
Though Hotch kept his face completely void of emotion, I saw the tendons in his hands flex as he methodically gathered his papers. As Mr. Sullivan settled back into his seat, the judge studied the evidence in front of him for a moment. Finally, he cleared his throat and then peered down at Hotch over his glasses.
"I see that you've stated there was an incident between your client and the defendant prior to this, is that correct?"
"Yes, your honor," Hotch agreed, getting to his feet. "In 2005, the defendant attacked my client and –"
"Objection," Mr. Sullivan called; Hotch's steeled gaze snapped to him. "Hearsay. It was an alleged attack. There were never any charges pressed, and witness statements support my client not being involved –"
Before the judge could respond, Hotch pulled one of the papers out of his stack and held it out towards him. "I have here both Ms. DiMaggio's hospital records from that night and photos from the attack. Though circumstantial, the evidence clearly shows that my client was strangled and that the defendant had lashed out earlier in the evening, causing damage to property in the home as well as incidental damage to my client."
"Objection!" Mr. Sullivan called incredulously. "There is no factual evidence to support it was my client that caused the injuries to the plaintiff."
The judge beckoned him forward and Hotch passed him the papers. After a few moments of flipping through them he sat them aside and folded his hands. "Is there anything further than the circumstantial evidence in regard to the attack in 2005?"
I could see Hotch's jaw tick as he took a breath. "No, your honor. However, the photos of Ms. DiMaggio's injuries show clear hand-shaped marks, which –"
"Which only show that she was injured by someone, but doesn't tie her injuries to my client," Mr. Sullivan interrupted again. "I'd like to present witness testimonies from the responding officer on-scene and the plaintiff's father, both stating that there was no implication past Ms. DiMaggio's accusations that Mr. Aldridge was the one who injured her. These statements also support that Ms. DiMaggio has made similar unsupported claims against my client, showing it's habitual for her to continuously defame him."
Sad as it was, I'd been the one to call THAT petty move. The moment Hotch profiled that Connor would try to gather witnesses for himself, I knew the first place he'd turn to was my own family. And, clearly, they really did love him more than me.
"Objection sustained," Judge Rumlow decided after just moments of studying the statements, nodding to Mr. Sullivan. Hotch turned to set his papers back at the desk and grab another file of evidence, catching my eye for just a moment.
The hope I'd been clinging to was starting to dissolve. With each objection Judge Rumlow accepted, with each piece of our evidence that was thrown out, we were inching closer and closer to the fact that somehow, Connor might get out of this completely free.
I didn't want to accept that option, but the concern in Hotch's troubled gaze made me see how real of a possibility it was starting to become.
"Did you witness my client attacking Ms. DiMaggio?" Mr. Sullivan pressed, pacing past Penelope again. Her face pinched together in frustration.
"I – no, but I saw him cornering her, he was blocking her so she couldn't –"
"Objection, hearsay," he snapped, cutting her off for what had to be the hundredth time. "This is what the witness was told by the plaintiff, not what she actually saw take place."
"Objection sustained," Judge Rumlow agreed again. Thank god he wasn't looking at me. I'd lost control of my facial expressions two 'objections' into JJ's questioning and it hadn't gotten any better with Emily's. Now, it seemed we were about to be zero-and-three on witnesses. "You may continue."
Mr. Sullivan folded his hands behind his back and turned to Penelope once again. "After witnessing my client and the plaintiff in their discussion, you then left to retrieve Ms. Prentiss and Ms. Jareau, is that correct?"
"Yes," Penelope answered quietly.
"So your knowledge of her alleged assault only comes from what you were told by the plaintiff?"
"I – yes, but her pantyhose were ripped and she skinned her knees –"
Mr. Sullivan scoffed and cut in snidely, "which could've simply been from Ms. DiMaggio falling of her own accord –"
"Objection, leading the witness," Hotch barked. Judge Rumlow paused, but then finally he nodded in our favor.
"Objection sustained. Mr. Sullivan, please rephrase the question."
He furrowed his brow, throwing a quick glance to Hotch before he turned to pace past Penelope. "Did you witness Ms. DiMaggio being pushed by my client?"
"… no, but –"
"So, therefore, it would be reasonable to say that one of the ways Ms. DiMaggio could've been injured was simply from falling of her own accord –"
"Objection, it's the same question," Hotch snapped again, but this time Judge Rumlow held up a hand.
"Objection overruled. The question was not posed to lead the witness. Ms. Garcia, please give your response."
Penelope's eyes met mine in a silent apology as she said softly, "yes, sir. It's possible."
My hands were trembling. I'd tangled my fingers into my dress hours ago, trying to keep my nerves at bay, but with each word that left Mr. Sullivan's mouth, it was like Connor was being pushed farther and farther into innocent light.
Hotch's closing argument had been solid. He'd gone back through the bits of evidence Judge Rumlow hadn't dismissed, weaving a solid picture of the hell Connor had put me through the last month – specifically in the last handful of weeks. He'd openly rescinded the charges for stalking and harassment (what, with Rumlow practically tanking everything we'd brought up to support it). Admittedly, we really didn't have a leg to stand on there, but the rest seemed enough to carry us through and get the conviction we wanted.
I'd just started to feel good about our chances, until Mr. Sullivan had given his closing argument.
"While it's true that the defendant did enter into private property against the posted signs, there's nothing further than hearsay and circumstantial evidence to show it was done with malicious intent," Mr. Sullivan drawled to the jury, waving his hand to enunciate the dismissive tone he'd been using. "As explained, Mr. Aldridge has a long-standing relationship with Ms. DiMaggio and her family. He was simply attempting to discuss the unwarranted emergency protective order so he didn't need to press charges against her for slander and libel, as there is clear evidence to have done so."
And, just as Hotch thought he would, he threw a curveball to the jury.
"Your honor, my client is a dedicated, hardworking young man. He's a beloved member of his community, he's the youngest sales manager his dealership has ever appointed, and he's looking to follow his father's footsteps and campaign for city council next term. He's an upstanding citizen, and to condemn him and throw away his bright and promising future on weak, opinionated accusations from a jilted lover would be an unspeakable injustice."
does not present a risk to Ms. DiMaggio, as is evident by the retracted charges of stalking and harassment, and the basis of the aggravated assault and alleged battery are based on circumstantial evidence that does not prove the defendant's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt."
He gave a nod to end his speech and all but sauntered back to Connor's side, casting a smug smile in our direction as the courtroom fell to silence. All eyes fell to Judge Rumlow, waiting to hear the decision he'd reached. Slowly, he took his glasses off and folded his hands on the table, leaning forward.
"In having entered private property that was clearly marked as such, and refusing to leave after being asked to do so, on indictment of section 18.2-119, this court finds the defendant guilty."
Hotch took my hand beneath the table and gave a gentle squeeze. Guilty. Connor was guilty. It was just trespassing so far, but Connor. Was. Guilty. God, I wished I could've seen past Mr. Sullivan to get a look at the inevitable shock on his stupid face.
"Though there is circumstantial evidence that supports the possibility of assault towards the plaintiff, this evidence does not prove beyond reasonable doubt that the defendant had intent to cause harm, nor that he was the cause of the injuries the plaintiff sustained. On indictment of section 18.2-57, assault and battery, the court finds the defendant not guilty."
My breath left me, the words hitting me hard in the stomach. Not guilty on assault?! That was practically Connor's middle name! And if we hadn't managed to sway Judge Rumlow on THOSE charges…
"And finally, on indictment of section 18.2-60.3, stalking and harassment, there is no evidence that supports the defendant was pursuing the plaintiff in a threatening or harmful manner, and the court finds the defendant not guilty."
One.
One charge out of three.
Somehow, we'd come out swinging, we'd prepared for Connor and met him at every crooked turn he made, and we'd still fallen short. All that was left to hope for was that Judge Rumlow would at least uphold the maximum 12-month jail time that came with the measly bit of justice he'd tossed our way.
The ride back from the courthouse was a quiet one.
Last week, it'd been heated and furious. I don't think I'd stopped foaming at the mouth until we reached Quantico. And then, with the rest of the team riled up, I'd just started at it again. Hotch had been – much to my agitated pleasure – quite vocal about the judge's ruling. We went back through the evidence we'd presented, we played through the events that Hotch had walked Rumlow around… it was solid. Solid. We were just as baffled as the rest of the team had been at the weak verdict.
How had that not been enough to charge him with assault – aggravated or not? And come on, the battery? The scraped knees, okay. Granted, I got them from falling but I didn't just flop to the ground on my own accord. Did they really believe I'd gotten the marks on my upper arms by tripping? What did they want, bruises that spelled out Connor Was Here?!
It had been infuriating, to say the least, but there was still the sentencing to be given. It's what fueled our fury. We still had that hope that the justice system wouldn't completely fail us. We'd gotten the trespassing to stick. He'd illegally refused to leave private, federal property. It wasn't a felony but didn't it show his disregard for anything other than himself?
Last week there had been hope. Today, there was silence.
The sentence given to Connor hung so heavily over us I felt like I couldn't catch my breath. Whether I was on the verge of tears or seconds away from destroying everything in my reach, I still couldn't tell.
Three months. Three fucking months. Connor only had to serve ninety days in jail – back in Colorado in minimum-security – and then he had a hundred hours of community service. And that was that.
Years of abuse, months of harassment, countless days of fear and anxiety and trauma and suffering were all supposed to be patched over and excused after three fucking months?
Judge Rumlow's decision bit into me over and over; the words burned through my veins like venom. It was honest to god sickening to know that even with evidence, with witnesses, the whole nine yards, Connor had still essentially gotten away with this.
"A minimal sentencing, I think, is a fair decision. The time in jail will help emphasize the seriousness of the situation. Probation is a fair exchange for a longer incarceration when the defendant is youthful and has no significant record of prior criminal offenses. I have considered the character letters that have been provided by Mr. Aldridge's friends, family, and colleagues, which indicate a long-standing period of model behavior. A long prison sentence for a single, non-violent crime would have, I believe, an unfair long-standing impact on a young man's otherwise bright future."
He didn't want to ruin Connor's future from one mistake. Yeah, god forbid the precious little Aldridge boy have to answer for the hell he put me through. Wouldn't want to deprive him of having a cushy life free of repercussions –
My phone rang and scared the absolute daylights out of me. I flinched so hard I actually made Hotch start. When he heard me huff and throw my phone back into my purse, he waited until my ringtone faded out and finally cleared his throat for the first time that morning.
"Mom or dad?"
"Mom," I sighed, slumping back and folding my arms over my chest, staring out the window at the snowy landscape as I fought to swallow the bile rising up in me. "I'm sure they just heard their precious Connor got a slap on the wrist and they're out for blood. Mom's call is my warning before the 'big guns' come out."
And, sure enough, before I'd even finished talking, my phone was ringing again. We sat through the music, and in the silence that followed I felt the same sickness and frustration from all those years ago settling over me. Arm propped on the door, I dropped my face into my hand and shut my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay.
When my phone rang again I didn't even move.
"It's hard to defend the value of the judicial system when you see it fail so terribly," Hotch said quietly after the music stopped again. There was frustration in his voice, but there was also the hint of betrayal laced within. His job – our job – was to uphold the laws and the workings of the very system that had just screwed me six ways to Sunday. How could we put our faith in justice when there was the chance it wouldn't be given?
He'd fought for countless others like he'd fought for me and I couldn't help but wonder… How many times had he seen this happen? How many people like me had lost to sociopathic manipulators, professional liars, a sweet-talking lawyer – how many had lost because the truth wasn't as believable as the lies that were fed to the court?
"What do we do now?" I asked him, voice tight with the emotion I was fighting to hold back. I knew Hotch heard it.
"We can use the trespassing charge to rally for the protective order against him," he began, but I was already shaking my head at that.
"Hotch, we had three witnesses testify that I was attacked by him and we still –" my ringtone blasted again and I irritably snatched my phone, hitting the end button and biting back a snarl of frustration. "We still didn't have enough evidence to convict him."
He nodded in understanding, glancing over at me for a heartbeat, taking in the unmasked pain and fury on my face. "We can work with Howard. I'll still be your prosecutor," he added when he heard me take a breath to argue. "But he's an attorney for high-status clients like Dave. He has a lot of experience with stalking and harassment that could –"
The fifth time my ringtone went off I lost it. I hadn't planned to talk anyone associated with Connor ever again, but after the day I'd had I wasn't feeling particularly passive.
"What?" I snapped the second I answered, jamming the speaker button and holding my phone up so Hotch could hear too. There was a flurry of commotion in the background, a car door slamming shut, and then the shuffling of the phone going to his ear when my dad realized I'd actually answered.
"Where the hell do you get off, ruining that boy's future?!" he snarled, and before I could even quip out a smart reply he pressed, "it's bad enough you insist on ruining your own life, but do you have any idea the kind of repercussions he'll be facing now? After the way you've smeared his name –"
"I'm fine, thanks for asking," I told him idly. Whether it was the rage or the adrenaline making me shake, I had no idea, but I was proud when my voice came out smooth. "The bruises Connor left this time aren't as deep as before, and thankfully my friends were there to protect me before he could make another attempt on my life."
There was a brief pause as his minimal patience with me boiled over, and when he replied his voice was just as dangerously calm as my own. "Aria, your dramatics are childish and unnecessary, and I would think you'd know so at this point in your life. Do you understand that this is not a game? Your actions have consequences, do you understand? That boy's future is in jeopardy because you continue to feel the need to act out for attention –"
"Thanks for saying that I'd lied about him hurting me before. Not only is it illegal to lie in a character statement like that," I continued on, acting like I hadn't heard him. "It really just warms my heart to know that you would lie about your own daughter to help the guy that's abused me for years –"
"He's the son I never had," my father spat, managing to strike every raw nerve in my body with those six words in the way only he could. He was as bad as Connor in his own twisted methods, just as manipulative and underhanded and almost more dangerous because he had the advantage of knowing my entire life story. He knew jabs at Jude cut straight through me and he wasn't pulling punches today. "Connor is the only one of my children that values and respects this family and all I've done for it, so you'll be damned sure that I'll defend him over your baseless lies. He's more a member of this family than you are at this point."
Instead of snarling at him and dropping to his level like he wanted (despite how good being petty would feel right now) I bit my tongue and let the silence draw out several moments. Hotch's hand reached out and unexpectedly took hold of my own. My lip trembled; he was giving me his silent, grounding support. I had to take a few deep breaths to compose myself before I managed to say simply, "you're right. Connor's a bigoted, narcissistic sadist that deserves nothing more than rotting in a jailcell surrounded by the bullshit he constantly spews. I really see the family resemblance dad –"
"Your childish attitude is just as pathetic as this little cry for attention," he growled; I could practically hear that vein in his forehead popping out. Hotch's hand tightened minutely around my own; he was just as furious as I was. "You truly do destroy everything around you at every chance you get. What's even worse is I see you've gotten your sister in on this act as well, asking her to take your side against the rest of us, trying to turn her against your mother and I. You're trying to tear apart everything I've built up and I won't allow it, Aria. I won't. You and your dramatic games need to stop –"
"Right. You think I'd actually go to court over this just because I wanted you to pay attention to me? Have I really underestimated just how deep your stupidity runs?" I scoffed. My own temper was nearly boiling but my refusal to let my dad get the satisfaction of riling me up was more determined than my dangerously-short fuse. My hold on Hotch's hand was probably bordering on painful but he didn't move to pull away. Without him holding tight I'd be flying off the handle, completely unhinged. "Let me assure you that my world doesn't revolve around getting recognition from the man who's can't even remember my birthday –"
"Enough of your smart-ass attitude," he snarled; I heard the phone creaking as his grip tightened. "Listen to me, Aria. We are going right now to pick up our lawyer from the airport. We will be vying for an early release and an expungement of his unnecessary record you've now given him, and you will be assisting us in –"
"No, I won't."
Hotch's lips twitched up at my instant reply and he gave my hand a supporting squeeze. There was another pause on the other end of the phone, and then an incredulous, "excuse me?"
"You know what I said. You're getting old but I'm pretty sure your hearing isn't that bad." I got a full smile out of Hotch at that. "I won't be helping Connor at all. He deserves every single thing handed to him today. He deserves more than what he got today, and with the help of the people who actually care about me, I'll be pursuing every legal action against that son of a bitch that I can. There's no way in hell I'll be doing anything to help him get out of punishment again."
"You've gone too far this time," he hissed. "You are ruining a man's career – his reputation – just because you have nothing better to do with your time. After all Steve and Mary have done for this family, to turn around and condemn their son like this is unspeakable. Unless you reassess what you're doing, you can consider yourself dead to us."
"Sounds wonderful, Rick. Enjoy my funeral for me," I quipped, hanging up before he could reply.
My phone instantly started ringing and I turned it off, tossing it back into my purse as we fell into silence. One hand held tight to Hotch's, and the other came up to bury my face in. I had no idea if my tears were from the pain of this morning, the frustration of my dad, or the exhaustion that Connor always brought onto me. Honestly, at this point, it was probably all of the above.
Hotch's thumb ran in gentle circles over the back of my hand as I cried quietly, breath coming in shaky gasps, the ache in my chest enough to double me over in the seat. I hadn't noticed the car stop, hadn't seen us pulling into the parking garage, but suddenly Hotch had pulled his hand free and he was out of the car in the next moment.
I was so surprised at the sudden loss of him that I fully stopped my sobbing, righting myself and looking around for him in hurt confusion. My own car door opened and then suddenly my seatbelt had been unbuckled and I was pulled into a tight embrace.
My face buried into his chest and I broke down again. My hands fisted into his suit jacket like I was holding onto him for dear life. Right now, that's what it felt like. His hands ran up and down my back, giving a steady rhythm that washed over me like waves over sand. With every pass, he slowly started pulling the venom to the surface, drawing out each drop of poison that had infected me.
"They're protecting him," I sobbed against his shirt. "It's always him. Why – why is his future the only one that counts?"
Another pass of his arms, another drop pulled free.
"Why does no one see him for what he really is?" His hands slid up and down my back a few more times before I choked out, "why does he keep getting away with hurting me?"
Several more runs his steady hands on my shaking back brought nothing but furious, aching sobs, and finally the question that hurt the most was pulled out of me.
"Why don't I matter, Hotch?"
His hands stilled and for several long moments he just held me as I cried. Finally, though, his hand came up to hold the back of my head gently, cradling me against him so tenderly it actually took my breath away and for a heartbeat my crying tapered out.
Just like my dad should have.
He should've been here with me, fighting for me, protecting me from Connor and doing every single thing in his power to keep me safe. Rick Taylor had essentially disowned me, but did it really matter if he was never completely my dad? Did it matter when I had Hotch?
"To the right people you do," Hotch promised me, and when he pulled back I blinked the tears out of my eyes to stare up at him. "And… I believe these would be the right people."
As subtle as a brick through a window, the rest of our team had huddled themselves around Emily's car. None of them were looking at us but it was clear it was taking every single bit of self-restraint they collectively had to keep from coming over.
I choked out a watery laugh and the moment Hotch nodded they swarmed us. Somehow Penelope managed to wedge herself in the space between myself and the car door, her arms instantly enveloping me. Hotch stepped back to give her room to wash me in unconditional love, but he kept his hand secure on my shoulder.
Morgan, Emily, and JJ gathered beside Penelope and Spencer ended up in front of me. His soft gaze swept over me, honey-brown eyes gentle and soothing and exactly what I needed. Suddenly I didn't care what the others thought, I didn't care how it would look... I just wanted Spencer.
My arms went up and though I felt childish, he instantly obliged my silent request. He stepped up and ducked down to fold himself around me and my face pressed into his shoulder. Books, leather, coffee. The comforting scent of Spencer wreathed around me, settling deep in my lungs and soothing the still-burning ache inside of me just a little more.
"I take it the sentencing didn't make up for the verdict," Rossi sighed, hands settling into his pants pockets as he looked between us. Spencer pulled back from the hug and, without me even noticing, Penelope had scooted herself and the others down a few steps to make room for him at my side instead.
Despite the situation she still sent me a devilish wink. Apparently, best friend meddling never took a break. Right now, having Spencer at my side, being able to lean into him and feel him leaning back… I was okay with her playful scheming.
"Three months, a hundred hours of service," Hotch reported. It was Emily that reacted first, scoffing in disgust as she asked indignantly,
"Are you serious? That's all he's getting?"
Morgan's arms folded tightly over his chest; I didn't miss the look he shot to Hotch. He was smart enough not to say anything out loud – at least, not in front of me – but the message was clear. He still felt like this was partially Hotch's fault.
"Can't we appeal the decision or something?" Penelope asked hopefully. Unsurprisingly it was Spencer that shook his head and explained,
"No. An appeal would be revisiting the case and essentially going to court for the same situation. In the fifth amendment there's a clause called double jeopardy that prohibits a person from being prosecuted twice for the same time. A defendant has the option to appeal a decision made about them, but the plaintiff can't have the case reassessed."
Penelope was quiet for a moment, her normally bright face darkening with frustration. "Well that's just total bullshit." All seven of us turned to look at her in shock and she blinked at us in alarm. "What?"
"You never curse," JJ laughed. "I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard a cuss word leave your mouth."
"Well, you know, sometimes the situation just needs that spiciness!" she defended, throwing her hands up, jingling as her jewelry bounced around. It was so soft and Penelope-esque I couldn't help but smile up at her.
JJ, still chuckling, turned to look up at Hotch. "Alright, so this didn't work out. Now what?"
"We can pursue the protective order. I plan to start putting together another case centering around his trespassing charges. It should give extra leverage to help us prove a need to keep him away from Aria," Hotch explained; he was already set on attacking Connor at the next opportunity he'd get.
"I'll talk with Howard," Rossi offered instantly. "We can pull some strings, bring in the big guns and hit that stupid kid where it hurts."
If that's not code for calling in the mafia, I don't know what is, I thought to myself as JJ added,
"I'll have the court send me over the transcript of the hearing. We can pull from the testimonies and use them alongside character witness statements."
"We can give statements for Aria and that asshole, right?" Emily asked.
"Skeevy JerkFace," Penelope volunteered, getting a collective snort from Em, Morgan, and JJ.
When Hotch nodded in answer to Emily's question, her face settled into a dangerously determined scowl. "Good. I'll rip him apart with words until I get my hands on him."
As the others kept going, I looked around at them all. Every single one of them was here at my side, ready to fight Connor. They weren't asking me to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he'd hurt me. Hell, before they'd ever actually seen the guy, Penny, Hotch, and Spencer were rallying behind me.
My own parents had chosen to support the man who had tried to kill me with his bare hands. They'd picked him over their daughter, they'd backed him up and lied for him instead of trusting me and protecting me.
Hotch was right. The right people did care about me. Hotch, Penelope, Spencer, Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Rossi were with me. They were my family now, they were the ones with me in this, defending me with all they had and loving me in ways I'd never been loved before.
I hadn't noticed I was crying – again – until the hand Hotch still had on my shoulder gave a squeeze. "Aria?"
The others fell quiet and looked over in concern as I quickly wiped my cheeks off, sniffing and shaking my head. "I – I'm okay. Really," I added when their expressions didn't waiver. "I just… thank you guys. I can't – there's no way to tell you how much this means to me."
JJ smiled softly and stepped forward beside Spencer, her hand taking mine and holding tight. "We're family. We're with you, no matter what."
"The justice system failed you," Hotch said quietly, his words from earlier coming back to me. His gaze was resolute, though, and nothing but honesty laced his words as he promised, "Judge Rumlow didn't choose to protect you, but we will."
As the others all nodded Morgan added, "that sunnova bitch is gonna get his ass handed to him, sunshine. I guarantee it. Whether it's legally, or whether it's me breakin' his skeevy little ass in half, he's gonna regret messin' with our family."
It was Emily that stepped up to me, a softness in her gaze that I rarely saw. She was so closed-off most of the time, but right now her dark eyes were burning bright with empathy. She truly understood the pain I felt, and though it was comforting to know she could relate, I knew exactly why she could relate.
She'd been through something similar. Maybe not exactly like Connor, but someone had hurt her the way I was hurting now, and I knew her. She wanted to fix my pain because she couldn't fix her own.
Emily saw the understanding settle my eyes and she gave a small smile, glad I'd caught on. She held out her hand to me, urging me up. Pushing me silently to stand up, to not let Connor hold me down. Don't let him have any power over you.
The moment I took her hand she pulled me to my feet. Though she didn't hug me nearly as tight as Hotch had (really, I didn't think anyone could match his dad-hugs) the meaning in her hold was just as powerful.
You are not alone.
Welcome to Monday, you beautiful souls! I hope the last week treated you well, and that this week will be even better!
I know this is a little shorter of a chapter, but I wanted the trial to be a stand-alone thing before we kept going. What are your thoughts on the verdict? On Connor and his smarmy (I really like that word) lawyer? Aria's call with her 'dad'? I'm excited to hear back!
I wanted to see what y'all would like for the next chapter - are you ready to get into another episode, or would you like a filler? I'm open to doing either, so if you have a preference (and if you have a specific filler you'd like to see - girl's night, Aria meeting Jack, Aria and Spencer, etc) please let me know!
Thank you all for being the best part of my week. I love you guys, have an amazing day!
