Chapter 4 – The Court of Public Opinion
Foggy
"What the fuck, Matt?" Foggy muttered to himself. Or maybe not to himself. When he raised his eyes from his phone's screen, Matt was standing in the open door to his office. Karen appeared a few seconds later.
"What's going on?" she asked as she walked into the room.
Foggy stood up and answered her by handing her his phone. She stared at it for a minute or so, then handed it back without a word. Foggy guessed the expression on her face mirrored his own. He glanced down at the phone. "Jesus," he said, "it's not over."
"You gonna let me in on – whatever it is?" Matt asked. He stepped into his law partner's office and sat on the edge of his desk.
"It's a video of you, Matt," Foggy told him, "in the middle of something that looks like a prison riot."
"Oh."
"We are so screwed, we're gonna be disbarred, we're all going to jail – "
Matt cut him off before he could continue his litany of disaster. "Slow down, Fog. You're a lawyer. Think like one. What crimes, exactly, am I committing on that video?" Then he added, with a smirk, "Assuming it's me."
"What's this, a bar exam question?" Foggy quipped.
"Just answer the question."
"Oh, I don't know, assault, battery, assault with a deadly weapon, assault on correctional officers. That enough for starters?"
Matt shook his head. "None of the above. I was attacked. I was defending myself. Watch it again. If people think it's me on that video, what d'you think they'll see?"
"What?"
"A blind man being attacked without provocation."
"He's got a point, Foggy," Karen observed. She pulled up a client chair and took a seat across the desk from Foggy.
"This is when you stole my wallet, isn't it?" Foggy asked. "To get into the prison."
Matt didn't have to say anything. The guilty expression on his face was answer enough.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
"I, uh, it, it didn't work out the way I planned."
"Oh, you had a plan?"
"I needed to talk to Vic Jusufi."
"Vic who?"
Karen answered him. "The boss of the Albanian mob."
Foggy sighed heavily and sank back into his chair. "Let me see if I have this right. You used my name to get into a prison controlled by Wilson Fisk so you could talk to the boss of the city's most vicious mob."
Matt nodded. "Basically, yes." His words were barely audible. Then he raised his voice. "I needed to know why Fisk targeted the Albanians."
"Of course you did. So how'd that work out?"
"Fisk was watching. He knew I was there. And – " Matt frowned and waved his hand. "Well, you saw what happened."
"Did you ever even talk to the Albanian?" Karen asked.
Matt turned toward her, a surprised expression on his face. "I did. It's not on the video?"
Karen shook her head.
"Good. He's the one who told me about Jasper Evans."
Foggy took a quick look at Karen. A stricken expression crossed her face. Damn. She still blamed herself for the man's death. Then something occurred to him. "Why are we just now hearing about this for the first time?" he asked, waving around the phone in his hand.
"I didn't know there was a video," Matt said.
"I get that. But that doesn't answer the question." Matt apparently didn't have an answer. Foggy decided to let it slide. He looked at his phone again. The video was replaying. "I gotta admit, Matt, we're fucked in I-don't-know-how-many ways, but it's pretty impressive. Except at the end. You look, I don't know, kind of drunk."
"Fisk had someone inject me with . . . something," Matt explained.
Apparently Karen had heard enough and decided it was time to step in. "Look, guys, this is all very interesting, but we've got a major problem here." As if the reporters outside had heard her, all of the phones began ringing simultaneously, and someone started banging on the front door. "We need to come up with a strategy to deal with this."
"How bad is it?" Matt asked, raising his voice to be heard over the racket. The phones went silent, all of the calls going to voice mail.
"Pretty bad," Karen said. "The video's good quality, and you're in the shot most of the time. It's definitely you in the video. And the way you're fighting, it looks like the way Daredevil fights."
"Fuck," Matt swore softly.
"Yep," Foggy confirmed, "but there is one thing: the man in the video doesn't look blind. Maybe we can run with that."
"So, what, we argue it isn't Matt in the video?" Karen asked.
"Well, they say everyone has a twin somewhere," Matt said. "Maybe mine was at the prison that day." Then he seemed to remember something. He drew in a short, sharp breath. "Oh, shit."
"What is it?" Foggy asked.
"You remember Michael Kemp?"
"Sure."
"It was him I went to visit that day. He knows I was there, and he called me by name when I arrived in the visiting room."
"Damn," Foggy said. "You think he'll give you up? We did get sixteen years knocked off his sentence, after all."
Matt pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I don't know. Who knows what pressure he might be under? We'll just have to hope he keeps his mouth shut, and the other people who were there didn't hear him. But I think Karen's right. Our best shot is to argue it isn't me in the video."
"Keep playing the blind card, in other words," Karen said.
"Like Matt said before, people don't know what a blind man can or can't do," Foggy said. "They're not gonna believe the man in the video is blind."
Matt nodded. "I think it's our best play. Probably our only one."
"But after they see this, people are gonna say Matt's not really blind, he's faking it. How do we answer that?" Foggy asked.
Karen said, "I have an idea."
Karen
Karen spotted Ellison in the diner where they'd agreed to meet and slid into the booth opposite him. "Thanks for meeting me," she said.
"It's good to see you," he replied. "You want anything?" He gestured toward the pie and coffee in front of him and started to signal a waitress, but Karen shook her head.
"No, thanks. I can't stay long."
"Things heating up?"
"You could say that."
Her former boss gave her an appraising look. "So – Matt Murdock is Daredevil?"
"No comment."
"That's your story?"
"Yep. And I'm sticking to it."
"Off the record, how does he do it – the whole Daredevil thing?"
"No comment."
"Just tell me one thing," Ellison said, "is he really blind?"
"Yes."
Ellison thought for a moment, stroking his beard. "You know he's gonna need to prove it if he wants to get out from under . . . all this." He waved his hand.
"I know. That's where you – well, you and the Bulletin – come in."
"Tell me."
Karen leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table in front of her. "Matt is willing to submit to a medical examination to prove that he's blind. You choose the doctor. The only condition is that it has to be a legitimate doctor, not some Internet or cable news hack."
Ellison sipped coffee while he considered the proposal. When he set his cup down, he said, "Sounds reasonable."
"The Bulletin gets the story first, but you agree to share it with other media outlets after you publish. It needs to be disseminated as widely as possible."
Ellison fell silent and gazed into his coffee cup as if seeking an answer there. Then he nodded and said, "All right. I think my publisher will agree to that. Anything else?"
"Nope. That's it. Thanks for agreeing to meet me." Karen picked up her handbag and started to leave. She had just gotten to her feet when Ellison spoke again.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she replied curtly. She knew where the conversation was going, and she didn't want to go there.
"Really?"
"Yes." She sighed and resumed her place across from him.
Ellison gave her a long look, then changed the subject. "We miss you at the Bulletin, you know."
"Not everyone."
"Maybe not," Ellison conceded, "but if you ever get tired of the law gig, there's a place for you at the paper."
"Says the man who fired me."
Ellison shrugged. "We all make mistakes."
Karen looked down at the tabletop for a moment. Then she raised her eyes to meet his and said, "Look, I appreciate the thought, but I'm where I belong. Where I need to be. Where I want to be. OK?"
"OK. But if you ever change your mind – "
"I won't," Karen replied firmly. "You'll be in touch about the exam?"
"I will."
Karen slid to the end of the seat and stood up. "Thanks again for meeting me," she said before she turned and walked out of the diner. Ellison went back to his pie and coffee.
DOC: MURDOCK IS BLIND
Special Report to the Bulletin
By Mitchell Ellison
A week ago, Vanessa Fisk stunned the City with her claim that blind attorney Matthew Murdock is the vigilante known as "Daredevil." Since that time, questions have been raised as to whether Mr. Murdock is in fact blind. To put these questions to rest, Mr. Murdock agreed to submit to an examination by a physician chosen by the Bulletin. The examination was performed yesterday by Victor Ellis, M.D., Chief of the Ophthalmology Service at the New York Eye and Ear Hospital. With Mr. Murdock's permission, Dr. Ellis has now shared the results of his examination in this interview with the Bulletin.
Bulletin: Thank you for agreeing to this interview, Dr. Ellis. Can you first describe the examination you performed on Mr. Murdock?
Ellis: It was a complete examination of the eyes, both the exterior and interior structures, including the optic nerves. Mr. Murdock also allowed me to review the medical records of his treatment following the accident in which he lost his sight.
Bulletin: What were the results of that examination?
Ellis: Mr. Murdock's eyes do not react to light. Examinations with the slit lamp, ophthalmoscope and optical coherence tomography all showed extensive, severe damage to the retinas and optic nerves bilaterally. These findings are consistent with the findings at the time of his injury.
Bulletin: In lay terms, what does that mean?
Ellis: Mr. Murdock has no light perception. He is totally blind.
Bulletin: Did Mr. Murdock cooperate with your examination?
Ellis: Yes. Fully.
Bulletin: Were you able to determine the cause of Mr. Murdock's blindness?
Ellis: Mr. Murdock is unable to see because of the damage to his retinas and optic nerves. His medical records indicate he was exposed at age nine to a chemical agent which caused that damage, resulting in the total loss of his eyesight within minutes after the exposure.
Bulletin: What was the chemical?
Ellis: Unknown. When I queried Mr. Murdock on this point, he was unable to tell me. If the substance was identified at the time, that information was not included in his medical records. I can tell you that the substance in question seems to have had an affinity for nerve tissue. The structures of the eyes, other than the retinas and optic nerves, appear to have been unaffected, for the most part.
Bulletin: Are you aware that a claim has been made that Mr. Murdock is the vigilante known as "Daredevil"?
Ellis: Yes, I am.
Bulletin: Following your examination of Mr. Murdock, did you review videos of Daredevil provided to you by the Bulletin?
Ellis: I did.
Bulletin: Do you have an opinion as to whether a blind man, specifically, Mr. Murdock, would be able to do what is shown on these videos?
Ellis: Let me preface my remarks by saying that, as a group, visually impaired people are much more capable than the general public believes. This ignorance manifests as ableism, which puts visually impaired persons at an unjustified disadvantage. Visually impaired individuals may do certain things differently than sighted people or use assistive devices, but aside from obvious examples like driving a car, they can do most things that sighted people do.
Turning to the videos, Daredevil does not appear to be visually impaired. Some of the things he does in the videos, such as fighting at close quarters, could be done by a visually impaired person with appropriate training. However, he does not use any techniques or assistive devices utilized by visually impaired individuals. For the most part, he appears to be acting based on visual input, as when he runs toward a crime in progress, locates and identifies the perpetrator, and deals with him. There have also been reports of Daredevil traversing rooftops and leaping from building to building, something that would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, without visual input. Not to mention extremely dangerous. All things considered, it is highly unlikely, in my opinion, that the man in the videos of Daredevil is Mr. Murdock.
Bulletin: Have you also reviewed a video purporting to show Mr. Murdock in a fight at a prison?
Ellis: I have.
Bulletin: Do you have any opinions regarding that video?
Ellis: A man appearing in the video resembles Mr. Murdock. However, he appears to be sighted. Both before and during the fight, we see him traversing the prison corridors without a sighted guide and without utilizing a white cane or a guide dog. His actions during the fight also indicate he is sighted. He appears to know where his attackers are. He is able to dodge or block some of their blows and land quite a few punches himself. When the fight moves into what looks like an exam room, he knows where the exam table is and even uses it in defending himself. He also locates a syringe on the floor and uses it to stab one of his attackers. In my opinion, the man in the video is sighted. Mr. Murdock is not.
Bulletin: And you're sure Mr. Murdock is blind?
Ellis: Positive. Without a doubt.
Bulletin: It has been suggested that Mr. Murdock may have some sort of so-called "superpowers" that allow him to do what Daredevil does. Do you have any thoughts on that?
Ellis: I deal with scientific facts, not science fiction.
Bulletin: Thank you, Dr. Ellis.
Ellis: You're welcome. ###
Karen
Karen knocked on the closed door to Matt's office and entered without waiting to be asked. He was reading a braille document, his hands moving rapidly across the raised dots.
"We're going to Nelson's for sandwiches. Want to join us?" she asked.
He didn't stop reading or raise his head to acknowledge her. His answer was a muttered "no."
"Can we bring you anything?"
"No."
She rolled her eyes and took a step back, closing the door as she left.
She and Foggy went out the front door, where the press was gathered. They shouted the usual questions:
"Is Murdock really blind?"
"How much did you pay that doctor?"
"Is that Murdock in the video?"
"What was he doing at the prison?"
"How'd he learn to fight like that?"
"How long have you known?"
In response, Foggy waved at them. "Follow us," he said. Then he added, under his breath, so only Karen could hear him, "Might as well bring Theo some customers."
At Nelson's Meats, they chatted with Theo while he made their sandwiches. After Theo finished, Foggy turned to the crowd that had followed them and said,"What're you waiting for? You want the best subs in Hell's Kitchen, you're in the right place. Theo can help you here at the counter." He waved his arm, inviting them to come in. Theo flashed him a grin as several of the reporters approached the counter.
Foggy picked up their wrapped sandwiches and followed Karen upstairs to the room above the shop that used to be their office. They took seats across from each other at one of the tables. Before he unwrapped his sandwich, Foggy asked, "What's going on with Matt? He nearly bit my head off when I wanted to discuss the settlement offer in Fisher this morning."
Karen didn't answer him right away. She unwrapped her BLT, considering her response as she did so. Finally, she said, "It's Daredevil. Or, more accurately, no Daredevil."
"You mean he's all bent out of shape because he can't go out and beat up on people?"
She studied her sandwich but didn't pick it up. Then she looked up and said, "Not exactly. Do you ever think what it must've been like for Matt, a blind boy growing up in that orphanage?"
Foggy gave her a surprised look at the change of subject. "Sure. I guess." He unwrapped his corned beef on rye and took a bite. He chewed and swallowed, then asked, "What're you getting at?"
"It must have been very . . . limiting, I think." Foggy gave her a questioning look. "The other boys at the orphanage, taunting him, bullying him, hiding things from him. The nuns, stopping him from doing what he wanted, telling him he couldn't do things, punishing him for fighting. He must've hated that." She frowned. "They probably told themselves they were doing it so he wouldn't get hurt." She picked up her sandwich and took a bite.
"And your point is – ?"
"All that time, he had these amazing abilities – and he couldn't tell anyone about them."
"Could've told me," Foggy grumbled.
"True," Karen agreed. "But that was when he was in college, he'd left the orphanage by then. Can you imagine what they would've done if he'd told them when he was still at the orphanage?"
"Oh, I don't know, hold an exorcism?" Foggy quipped.
Karen gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Maybe. Or maybe they would've dismissed it as a boy bragging, trying to get attention, making himself feel important. But you know Matt, how stubborn he is. He wouldn't have let it go. If he persisted, what d'you think they would've done?"
Foggy shrugged. "I don't know. But I have a feeling you're going to tell me."
"Best case, they still think he's just bragging. But maybe they think he's delusional, mentally ill. Maybe he ends up in some mental hospital. Or maybe he gives them a demonstration of his abilities, and they try to 'cure' him, or he ends up in some research facility, being 'studied.' No Columbia, no law school, no Nelson & Murdock, no Daredevil."
Foggy shook his head. "Damn. I never thought of it like that. But what does it have to do with why Matt almost bit my head off this morning?"
She took a bite of her sandwich before she answered him. "I think Matt needs to be Daredevil, more than we realize. Being Daredevil is how he proves to himself that he's not that boy in the orphanage, that he's not defined – or limited – by his blindness. What we're doing now, what he's doing now, to refute Vanessa's claims, it's all about his limitations. His blindness. And it's eating at him, big time."
"But it was his plan," Foggy protested.
"I know. And it's a good plan. Doesn't mean he has to like it."
"So what do we do?"
Karen shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know. Try to support him, I guess."
Foggy took a bite of his sandwich and chewed, looking thoughtful. Then his expression darkened. "You don't think – " he said.
"Don't think what?"
"That he'd go out as Daredevil."
A knot formed in Karen's stomach. It didn't mix well with her BLT. "Shit," she muttered. "He might."
"But his Daredevil stuff is stashed here," Foggy pointed out.
"That wouldn't stop him. This is Matt we're talking about."
"Damn," Foggy swore. "You're right." He picked up what was left of his sandwich, then put it down. "Wait a minute. I have an idea." Karen gave him a questioning look. "You could spend the night."
Karen couldn't believe her ears. "What?"
"I don't mean that. Just keep an eye on him so he can't sneak out."
"Foggy!"
"It's for the plan, Karen. C'mon, you know you want to."
She gave him a death glare, then crumpled up her sandwich wrapper and threw it at him. They finished their sandwiches and walked back to the office in silence.
Matt
That evening, Matt had just ended a call with Drew Moran, confirming their meeting for depo prep the next day, when Karen appeared in the doorway of his office. "Ready?" she asked.
He stood up, slipping his phone in his pocket as he did so. "Sure." He shrugged into his jacket and picked up his briefcase and cane. She was waiting for him at the front door. "See you tomorrow," he called, in the general direction of Foggy's office.
The expected reply came. "See you tomorrow, buddy."
Matt grasped Karen's arm, and they stepped out onto the stoop. Their numbers had dwindled, but the media were still there. He wasn't sure why. It had been more than a week, and he, Karen, and Foggy weren't doing anything newsworthy, as far as he could tell.
As they descended the stairs, the reporters shouted their usual questions. Matt and Karen ignored them. Then one of the reporters, a man, called out, "Hey, Page, looking good! Say, are you two dating?" Matt didn't answer him. Neither did Karen, but her heart rate and temperature increased – just a little, but enough to give her away.
When they reached the end of the block and were waiting to cross the street, he said, "I was thinking Indian tonight."
There it was again, just a little uptick. All she said was, "OK. Sounds good."
He recognized the Indian restaurant as soon as she opened the door: the buzzing and heat of the thousands of lights decking the ceiling, the spicy aromas of the food. It still felt magical, even if they were only getting takeout. But it wasn't like the first time they were there, on their first date, their only real date, before he fucked up so royally. They sat at the bar while they waited for their order. Neither of them had much to say. A couple of patrons approached him, people who'd been helped by Daredevil and wanted to thank him. He protested he wasn't Daredevil, but that didn't stop them. It was a relief when their order was finally ready, and they could leave.
As usual, the press followed them all the way to Matt's building. He finally relaxed, a bit, when the front door closed behind them. "Jesus," he said, shaking his head as they started up the stairs, "how long are they gonna stick around?"
"As long as they think there's a story," Karen told him.
"You know that's not what I wanted to hear, right?"
"I know."
Dinner was over. The leftovers were in the fridge. The dishes were washed and put away. (He washed, she dried and put them away, making sure they were in the correct places). While Matt wiped down the kitchen counter, Karen walked back to the living room and picked up her handbag.
"I should get going," she said, "busy day tomorrow."
Matt put down the dishcloth and walked to the end of the counter, trailing a hand along its surface. He didn't want her to leave. It felt good, spending time with her, doing everyday things, listening to her voice, breathing in her scent. "Do you have to?" he asked. "You could stay. If you want to."
"Have you been talking to Foggy?"
He didn't try to hide his surprise. "Foggy? What's Foggy got to do with this?"
"When we were at lunch today, we were talking about you."
He sighed. Of course they were. "And?"
"He's worried about you."
"So what's new?"
"He said you almost bit his head off this morning," Karen told him.
Matt hung his head. "I did. I'm sorry."
"I'm not the one you need to apologize to."
"I know. I'll tell him in the morning." But now he was curious. "So what else did you two talk about?"
"Foggy said I should stay over."
"What?"
"To make sure you didn't go out as Daredevil."
Oh. "Well, that's a terrible idea."
"I agree."
"You being here wouldn't stop me. You know that, right?"
"Yes."
He made his way to the couch and sat down, patting the cushion next to him. She put down her handbag and took a seat. "But you could stay over anyway," he said tentatively. "That sounds . . . nice."
She didn't say anything for what felt like a long time. Finally, she said, "I'm not . . . I'm not ready. I don't know if I'll ever be."
Her quickening heart rate and rising temperature belied her words, but he kept that knowledge to himself. "I get it," he said quietly. And he did. After everything he'd put her through, he was damn lucky she chose to remain his friend. He had no right to ask for anything more. He turned to face her, as if he could see her and make eye contact. "Just promise me one thing: if that changes, I'll be the first to know."
"Deal," she said, and held out her hand. He took her hand in his. Instead of shaking hands, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. He held it for a moment longer, before letting go. "Don't push her," he told himself, "it's too soon. You have time." Maybe. If he didn't end up spending years in prison when this was all over.
Karen seemed to pick up his train of thought. "Look," she said, "I know it sucks, doing the blind thing and not going out as Daredevil. But your plan's working. I hear people talking. I see what they're saying online. Since Ellison's interview with the doctor, most people don't believe you're Daredevil. They think it's Fisk trying to get even. And the people are with you, even those who think you're Daredevil. I'm beginning to think everyone in Hell's Kitchen either has been helped by Daredevil or knows someone who has."
He hoped she was right, and maybe she was. He couldn't walk down the street in Hell's Kitchen without hearing the shout-outs: "Thanks, Daredevil!" or "We got your six, DD!" or "Daredevil forever!" or even "We love you, Daredevil!" Both Karen and Foggy had told him about the graffiti that were popping up all over the Kitchen; "Hell's Kitchen [heart symbol] Daredevil" seemed to be the most popular, with "Daredevil 4 Ever" a close second. But his fate was in the hands of the DA, not the people of Hell's Kitchen. Matt had no illusions about Blake Tower. He might listen to public opinion, but only if it served his own interests.
He turned his attention back to Karen, who was saying, "One other thing: Foggy talked to Brett today. He said the NYPD and the DA are giving top priority to the investigation of Vanessa. It won't be much longer. We just have to hang in there." She reached out and rubbed his shoulder. "OK?"
He nodded. "OK." He gave her a sly smile. "But if you think you need to keep tabs on me, you can still stay, you know."
"Matt!"
"Don't worry, I'll take the couch. But picture us walking into the office together tomorrow morning. It'll make Foggy crazy."
"It would serve him right," she said with a laugh. But her heart was galloping. Then she shook her head. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"What?"
"Our 'entourage' out there." She waved a hand toward the windows overlooking the front of the building.
"Oh."
"I don't know about you, but I really would not like to see my picture on the front page of the Bulletin, captioned 'Daredevil's Girlfriend'."
"I would." He smirked.
Karen groaned. "That does it. If you're gonna start with the blind jokes, I'm definitely outta here." She picked up her handbag and stood up. But she reached out and brushed his cheek lightly with her fingertips before she turned to leave.
After her footsteps faded away, he replayed their conversation in his mind. Maybe there was still a chance. They could talk again when this was over. If he wasn't on his way to prison.