Here we are with yet more legalese. I hope it's not too far out there. This chapter certainly fought me tooth and nail and I'm glad that I can move on now from the court stuff. :)
Have fun and stay safe!
Chapter 56
One could have heard a pin drop, it was so quiet after Stiles' statement. Melissa's shocked little gasp, followed by a wounded sound, was obscene.
That moment of stunned silence couldn't last, of course, and Judge O'Neill was the one to break it. "You'll have to explain, Mr. Stilinski."
And Stiles did. Leaving out the part of Peter being an actual werewolf, he told a tale of a disturbed teenager who was only too ready to place the blame for the unfortunate chain of events that saw him attacked by an animal on a family that had the misfortune of seeming suspicious due to their tragic circumstances. It was downright easy to weave the Argents' one-sided enmity with the Hales into the narrative and make it look plausible.
Scott, of course, was fuming, and Mr. Clark tried more than once to interrupt, only to be harshly shot down by the judge. The third time Scott's lawyer tried to halt Stiles' explanation, he got slapped with another fine for contempt and was threatened with removal from the proceedings entirely if he did it again.
Gotcha, Stiles thought viciously as the man stomped back to his seat and sat down. Clark's eyes were dry, but his dark scowl promised revenge.
"So let me sum this up again, for the record," Judge O'Neill said, sounding faintly incredulous after Stiles was done, "Mr. McCall already tried to corner Mr. Hale in February to kill him, which you prevented, Mr. Stilinski, and that's why Mr. McCall stalked you all over the school and likely the town as well and eventually joined forces with Marcus Jacoby to finally attain that same goal." She turned to Scott. "We already know about that attempt in April, but we will have a long talk about that first one in February later, young man, because that definitely puts this case into perspective." To Stiles, she said, "You may return to your family. Mr. Whittemore, do you wish to question Mr. McCall now?"
Mr. Whittemore stood and nodded. "I do, Your Honour, to verify my client's claims for the record and to make any following proceedings easier to handle for the court."
"The court thanks you for that," Judge O'Neill said dryly. "Mr. McCall, it's your turn in the stand now."
Stiles sat next to his father and unashamedly leaned into his warm embrace. It had felt so very good to finally get all that crap off his chest, although now he was just tired of the whole thing and hoped that the rest of the morning could go on without his participation. It was already a given that whatever Scott had to say would make his blood pressure rise.
"Mr. McCall, are there any points in Mr. Stilinski's recounting of events you wish to contradict or explain further?" Mr. Whittemore asked.
"Of course I do," Scott replied, affronted. He looked over to his father, but Rafe McCall's expression was flat. "Everything Stiles said is totally wrong. I mean, yeah, I was in the forest in February, but only because Peter Hale forced me to be there. We were in mortal danger! Our only chance was to get him first! And ... and in April, what choice did I have? I needed to get him alone, so I could finally reclaim my humanity! But of course, he couldn't be decent and just do his duty. No, I had to help that man Jacoby kidnap Stiles' dad, just so Stiles would persuade Peter to meet us in the preserve." He turned anxious brown eyes to the sheriff. "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't want you to get hurt at all. It's all Stiles' fault."
Stiles' insides froze a little and he ground his teeth at the sheer gall. Under the table, Derek was taking his hand, the pressure a welcome anchor for his twisting and churning emotions.
"Mr. McCall, surely you're aware that killing another person is always wrong, even if monsters existed," Mr. Whittemore said. "And that you've just admitted to trying to get Peter Hale killed not once, but twice. Both times you aided and abetted a murderer - because that's what Kate Argent and Marcus Jacoby are - and did your former best friend enough harm to almost see him killed. At this point, I'm not sure what questions I can ask to help you avoid a long prison term."
"Stiles tried to keep me from doing what I had to do. Again! I just wanted him to stay away!" Scott protested. "I couldn't have known what hitting him would do! It's not my fault he's so weak."
"I think this is enough," Judge O'Neill said, cutting Scott off. "In the interest of not letting you incriminate yourself further, this interrogation is herewith finished and will resume at a later point in the appropriate venue. Please return to your family. I'm taking fifteen minutes to deliberate the sentence for this case." She stood and swiftly left the room.
"What does that mean?" Derek asked with a frown. "Why did she stop him when he was just starting to admit everything?"
"Because it's not relevant to the case at hand," Stiles' father explained. He sighed and shook his head slightly. "She'll ask the prosecutor to open a new case, this time for Peter's benefit, and Scott'll be questioned about all of this when he stands trial."
"And he will stand trial for two murder attempts," Mr. Whittemore said quietly. "Stiles … I understand why you didn't say anything about the first attempt on Peter's life, but surely you know that you'd have done the whole community a disservice if it had been allowed to be swept under the rug."
"I wanted to protect Melissa," Stiles whispered. Across from them, the poor woman was inconsolable, with no one to turn to for comfort. He positively itched to embrace her and hold her up, and maybe be held up in turn. "It's so fucking unfair how Scott's just throwing away her love for him. It's like he doesn't care how much it hurts her."
"It's obvious that he doesn't," Peter said. "I'm sorry for your and her sake, but I can't be sorry that The Failure will get what's coming to him. In that sense, your good luck card certainly worked as expected."
"Here," Mr. Whittemore offered Stiles a handkerchief and patted his shoulder. "It'll all be fine. It might take time, but one day things will be okay again."
They still had ten more minutes to go and so Stiles' father got up to stretch his legs for a little while. Peter didn't waste any time sliding into the man's seat and offering Stiles a hand to hold underneath their table.
"He's right, sweetheart," he said in a low voice. "You'll likely be furious for a long time, and some therapy might not be amiss, but eventually you'll put The Failure's betrayal behind you."
"You've got us," Derek added even more quietly. "And Isaac, Erica, and Boyd."
"And Lou," Stiles murmured, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. He huffed. "I swear, that's the last time that dumb arse makes me cry."
They fell silent and watched the drama unfold on the other side of the room. Scott was agitatedly talking at his distraught mother - and it was at, not to - while his father was ordering him repeatedly to shut up already. Mr. Clark kept out of that quietly raging argument, but he looked deeply unhappy, if not a little disturbed by the family dynamics.
Stiles took his eyes off the frankly shameful display and glanced at Alan Deaton, the sole visitor to the adjudication. "I wonder what he's even here for."
Mr. Whittemore spared a short look as well. "I have no idea, but he possibly wants to offer his services in a social work capacity, should the judge go that way. It's not unheard of, but I don't see that happening in this case."
A minute later Stiles' father returned with four small bottles of water in his hands. He offered one to Melissa, who accepted it tearfully, and handed the rest to his own party.
"I ran out of change so you'll have to share," John said, "but I don't think we'll be here much longer anyway."
At that moment the door to the judge's backroom opened and the bailiff called the room to order. Stiles and Derek managed to sneak a few sips of water before Judge O'Neill called for quiet and resumed the session.
"I'll make this short and as painless as possible," she declared and flattened her papers. "After some deliberation, I've decided to forego the pleas because there just isn't a sound basis for mitigating circumstances on the defendant's side. To the contrary, it seems that there is an even uglier case waiting to be investigated, which will happen as soon as may be."
"Your Honour, my client is labouring under severe mental stress and delusions," Mr. Clark interjected. "Surely allowances have to be made."
Scott didn't look happy at all to be called mentally ill, but instead of glaring at his lawyer, he was glaring at Stiles and Peter.
Judge O'Neill nodded sharply. "They will be made - until it is time for Mr. McCall to face the consequences of his actions against Mr. Peter Hale. The consequences for his actions against Mr. Mieczyslaw Stilinski, namely stalking, menacing, coercion, and physical assault with nearly fatal injury, and the abduction of and the denial of assistance for Mr. John Stilinski, I've decided to first and foremost grant the Stilinski and the Hale family the permanent restraining orders they've applied for. This means that no member of either family is to be approached in any way, form, or manner, ever again. Do you understand that, Mr. McCall? Every failure to adhere to these conditions will see you fined or even in jail for up to three months, depending on the severity of the violation."
Scott ground his teeth and forced out, "Understood."
"Thank god," Stiles blurted, only to clap his hands over his mouth and look at the judge with horror. "I'm so sorry, ma'am."
"It's quite alright," she said. "Furthermore I've decided that Mr. McCall is to remain in jail until his 18th birthday, although he'll be serving his sentence in an open prison capacity once he's been fitted with an ankle monitor. He'll then be on probation until he turns twenty-one, or whenever those three years elapse after potentially serving any other prison sentences."
Perhaps sensing how appalled Stiles' father, Peter, and Mr. Whittemore were, Judge O'Neill explained, "This is not leniency. It seems like Mr. McCall is indeed labouring under a severe mental illness, which will have to be evaluated extensively before he can appear in court and receive the appropriate sentence. At this time, the prison medical staff is unfortunately booked solid due to the current influx of detainees, so we'll have to move Mr. McCall to whichever private practice ends up accepting him. And since he is still a minor and his asthma is so severe, I'm not comfortable with sending him to another county where his parents can't easily reach him. This may change, of course, and will be subject to evaluation."
That was deeply unfortunate, but Stiles couldn't fault her for that. For all that he was a complete douchebag, Scott would need his mom's support, and it could never be said that Beacon Hills didn't try to take care of its own.
"The areas in which he'll be allowed to move will, of course, be made known to you and all the relevant offices," Judge O'Neill said to Mr. Whittemore. "Moreover, as the district attorney will press charges against Mr. McCall for at least complicity in two murder attempts, this decision hinges on whether he'll be even allowed out on bail. The amount will have to be decided, but it definitely won't be a trifle following this ruling."
Stiles' heart ached at the pallor in Melissa's face, even as he felt a bone-deep relief at not having to endure Scott's proximity once school started again.
"Additionally, to ensure that Mr. McCall won't have the time to violate the terms of his open prison sentence, he'll serve community hours whenever he's not with his doctors. He'll also have a guard with him at all times since his parents cannot be expected to watch him around the clock."
"My son does not deserve to have to post bail like a common criminal!" Rafe McCall said sharply. "If he's mentally ill, he should be in a hospital! Or maybe Eichen House, they specialize in such cases, don't they?"
"I won't make that call without a psychiatrist's evaluation," Judge O'Neill returned evenly. "Now, Beacon Hill is not a large city, but there are three jobs Mr. McCall will do in the course of his community service. The first is the trash pick-up crew, the second is the prison's laundry facility, and the third is the commercial kitchen down at Vagrant Fair. They always need more helping hands."
Melissa raised her hand. "Ma'am, will those jobs be safe? His asthma ..."
Judge O'Neill nodded. "We've considered his condition, of course. He'll be allowed his inhaler, although he won't be able to carry anything else while he's out and about." She sighed. "That being said, your son won't be coddled, Mrs. McCall. He did a terrible thing and needs to face the consequences of his ill-considered actions."
"Yes, of course," Melissa murmured, shoulders slumping a little.
"As to Mr. McCall not deserving having to post bail," and Judge O'Neill's voice turned frosty, "if it were up to me, Mr. McCall, he wouldn't even be considered in the first place. With you being absent from your son's life, Mr. McCall, I'd say there's a certain flight risk apparent. Only your job with the FBI will probably nullify that concern. We shall see how that shakes out and I'll thank you not to harass the court with your demands."
Rafael reddened but remained silent.
"Now, onto the recommendations. Both the Stilinskis and the Hales have suffered extensive trauma these past six months. While the Stilinski family is already getting help from a specialist, I'd also like to see the Hales in therapy to get through their issues. It is not a requirement, but now that we've got some Hales back in town, we're invested in seeing them healthy, in addition to happy and content."
Peter inclined his head. "We'll consider it, Your Honour. Thank you."
Judge O'Neill then, finally, zeroed in on Dr. Deaton. "Dr. Deaton, you wrote in your e-mail that you'd like to offer your veterinary practice as a location for Mr. McCall to fulfil his social work sentence. While generous, this court rejects the offer because it wouldn't exactly be a punishment if Mr. McCall were allowed to do what he likes and considers a career option."
Deaton inclined his head slightly. "I expected as much, but I wanted to make the offer. Mr. McCall is talented and not nurturing him seemed like a waste of potential."
"Well, Mr. McCall will have to concern himself with legal proceedings in the foreseeable future. His career options will therefore have to be evaluated at a later date," Judge O'Neill replied. She banged her gavel. "I herewith close this adjudication. All the relevant paperwork will be sent to you promptly. Mr. Whittemore, you'll receive a copy of your clients' restraining order against Mr. McCall immediately. Please make sure your clients understand fully what it entails and how they should act in the case of a violation."
"Certainly, Your Honour." Mr. Whittemore nodded at her.
Judge O'Neill gathered her papers. Instead of heading out, however, she approached Mr. Whittemore's table and addressed Stiles. "You know, of course, that dropping this little bombshell on us will have consequences for you and whoever else was involved."
Stiles flushed under her scrutiny. "I do. And I'm sorry. It's just that all of us were ready to forget about that night, even Peter. If Scott hadn't lost his marbles after that, it wouldn't have been such a big deal. Even if it was bad, I'm not gonna lie. I just hoped to spare his mom more grief, you know."
"That's horrifying, young man," she admonished. Her voice was stern, but her voice belied some compassion. "No friendship is worth it to suffer such abuse."
"No, ma'am," Stiles murmured. He glanced at his family and quite fiercely thought, Except that, in some cases, it is.
oOo
As promised, Mr. Whittemore invited the whole bunch to lunch and even asked whether it'd be alright to have Jackson join them when Isaac awaited them outside the restaurant with a defiant glower and mulishly crossed arms.
Stiles and Derek both gave the unhappy boy a tight hug each and seconded Jackson's inclusion without even thinking about protesting.
"Thanks, boys. I'd ask my wife as well, but she's in a meeting with her committee right now," Mr. Whittemore said gratefully. "I'll have to bring her dessert to make up for it."
They chose to sit inside to make them less of a target for prowling alphas, even though the weather was fantastic. It didn't take Jackson long at all to make an appearance, which convinced Stiles that he'd been hanging around the courthouse in the hopes of being one of the first to learn about the outcome of Scott's adjudication.
"Hi." Jackson sat down next to his father and stared at Stiles, who sat between Isaac and Derek. "Well? How did it go?"
"Jackson," his father chided. "I know that I didn't raise you to be this way."
Scoffing, Jackson replied, "That's how Stiles and I are talking with each other."
"By pressing the thumb in the wound," Stiles agreed wryly. "It's alright. Derek and I will get coddled by Erica later." He gave Jackson a summary of the ruling and closed with, "He'll have to spend the whole summer working for the community, which probably sucks more than having to sleep in jail."
Jackson frowned. "It doesn't sound like enough, but at least that McCall definitely won't annoy us at school anymore."
"The judge only sentenced McCall for what he did to Stiles and his father. There'll be a trial for the whole business with Peter," Mr. Whittemore explained. "It'll probably get ugly, and now that I know that you were at the scene in February, you'll get called into the witness stand."
"Crap." Jackson huffed. "But okay. Anything to keep McCall far away from us."
"Why, though? He didn't even do anything to you," Isaac said snidely.
"He still sucks, so good riddance," Jackson retorted and shrugged off his father's scolding.
"We'll sit down and agree on a story later," Peter offered the boy, "and try to keep you out of it as much as possible. If it's all of our word against The Failure's, he won't be believed about the supernatural."
Jackson eyed him suspiciously. "Stiles said that it is too late for keeping me out of those alpha douches' way, what with dad working with you."
"The alphas are a problem that we hope to solve soon," Peter answered smoothly.
A waiter finally appeared and handed out menus. For a couple of minutes, they all ordered drinks and appetizers like they were just a normal bunch of people having lunch in the most exclusive Italian restaurant in town, but as soon as they were alone again, the menus were forgotten.
"How are you gonna do that?" Jackson demanded like there hadn't been an interruption at all. "Are you gonna kill them?"
"Jackson," Mr. Whittemore hissed. "Lower at least your voice, if you can't refrain from sticking your nose where it isn't needed."
"It's a valid question," Stiles' father said, surprising not just Mr. Whittemore. "He's worried for you and himself, that's understandable. Right now we're in the defence since we neither know where they are, nor what they want, exactly. We don't even really know who belongs to that pack. All we know is that they're confrontational and likely out for blood. This means that the werewolves are ready to defend themselves and others with lethal force if it becomes necessary."
"But we'll try and find a way to boot them out of the territory before things get ugly," Stiles added. He raised his eyebrows at Jackson. "We still need several dozens of painted rocks, in case you wanna make yourself useful."
"Painted rocks," Jackson repeated, incredulous. "What the hell for?"
Stiles was unwilling to talk about it where they could be overheard and chose to write out his plan in a text message instead.
Jackson's derisive frown wasn't encouraging, but after finishing reading and giving an even more derisive snort he surprisingly said, "Fine. How about tomorrow morning? I've got some time before Lydia and I are going on our date."
"I'll text you the address," Stiles said, once he was assured of Peter's agreement. To entice Jackson further, he tacked on, "There'll be breakfast. I'm getting really good at that."
"It's the least you can do for pressing me into slave labour," Jackson said snottily, and the topic was abandoned.
End of chapter 56
