A Different Game 3d:

Monday morning, Peter Reynolds continued his prosecution of the State's case against Richard Grayson and Timothy Drake. D.N.A. specialists had testified as to how the comparison of the blood samples were conducted and the results the test had determined. Bludhaven police officers had traveled forty miles north of their regular patrols to testify about the search conducted at Dick Grayson's apartment.

The jury sat almost mesmerized as Reynolds presented testimony after testimony, evidence after evidence, against Dick and Tim. The jury would turn, periodically, toward the defendants and glare at them. Dick and Tim would try and meet the jurors eyes, but couldn't. They had faced down some of the worst psychotic killers Gotham had ever produced, but the glares of the men and women who held their fate in their hands unnerved them in a way they had never experienced before.

Their family and friends sat supportively, but helplessly, behind them as the week wore on. Their nerves and emotions raw. It was Tuesday afternoon when Dick first noticed Helena had appeared in the courtroom. She was sitting on the back row. Alone. He smiled at her and she returned the smile. But she wouldn't join them at the recesses, she wouldn't interfere.

That same afternoon, Peter Reynolds called his primary witness to the stand. Detective Jacobs stood and walked from the prosecution table to the witness stand. He looked at the defendants with contemptuous eyes. They glared back at him. Dick felt his jaw set determinedly as Jacobs started testifying.

After the preliminary questions were over, Reynolds asked Jacobs, "Could you please describe the scene of the alleged crime to the jury?"

Jacobs, turning to look at the jury, began to speak. "When I first entered the residence, I was directed by the uniformed officers already on the scene to the study and outside the study onto the verandah where the remains of the body were. The uniformed officers had extinguished the blaze with the aid of fire department personnel who were also on the scene. Personnel from the coroner's office had arrived as well to handle the transport of the body. I instructed police photographers to take photographs of the body at the scene."

Reynolds approached the stand with photographs in hand. Jacobs identified the photographs as Reynolds' assistants sat up the enlargements for the jury to view them. Dick and Tim exchanged pained glances before looking down at the table top in front of them. Dick looked up at the jury when he heard their gasps of shock. He caught a glimpse of one of the enlargements. These were worse than the sanitized autopsy photos. Dick also caught a glimpse of the jury's faces and the way they turned toward Tim and him. The way the jury looked at them. Dick shook his head back and forth trying to communicate that what they were thinking was wrong. But his gesture fell on now blind eyes. Dick looked toward Tim, the boy hadn't looked up. Dick slid his hand across the table and patted Tim's hand causing the younger boy to look at him. Tim gave him a slight smile.

"What did you do next Detective?"

"I started looking around the study. I was directed by some of the officers to blood stains on the carpet near the fireplace and to two swords that were discarded on the fireplace hearth. The swords came out of a wall mount near the study door. There appeared to be blood on the swords as well."

"Do you know, as a result of your investigation, if stains on the carpet and on the substance on the swords was determined to be blood?"

"Yes. Both substances were determined to be Bruce Wayne's blood."

"The two swords," Reynolds began approaching Jacobs with two large bagged swords, "were you able to retrieve any fingerprints from them?"

"Yes, the first sword," Jacobs began, "had four recoverable prints on it. They were all identified to match fingerprints of Richard Grayson that were on file in the F.B.I.'s index. The second sword had two full prints and a partial print that was later identified as a match with Timothy Drake's fingerprints once Mr. Drake was taken into custody and his prints were ran. He wasn't in the system before this arrest."

"What else did you do at the scene, Detective Jacobs?"

"There was a witness, Mr. Lucius Fox, I interviewed him and he directed me to the security cameras. I watched the tapes with him."

"What did the tapes show?"

"The tapes covered all entrances and exits to the Manor. Unfortunately, there weren't any tapes for the interior of the house. The tapes showed Mr. Wayne's arrival around four in the afternoon. Shortly thereafter, Mr. Grayson and Mr. Drake arrived and entered the home. All three were identified to me by Mr. Fox. There was no further activity on the tapes until approximately six- thirty when Mr. Grayson and Mr. Drake exited the residence through the garage."

"Permission to play the videotape for the jury, your honor?"

"Granted," Judge Vargas replied. The courtroom lights were dimmed by the bailiffs as Reynolds pushed play on the video cassette player. The courtroom was in a still hush as the tape began showing first Bruce's entry followed by Dick and Tim's. Reynolds fast forwarded through the hours of tapes that showed no one entering or leaving the premises. He stopped, hitting play again, just before Dick and Tim emerged from the house.

Jacobs, who had been allowed to stand down beside of the large screen TV took the remote and hit pause. "These stains," he began pointing at the red marks on their T-shirts and jeans, "are blood stains. Blood that was confirmed to be Bruce Wayne's blood by the D.N.A. tests." He hit the play button again so that the jury could see and hear the rest of the tape. Could hear Dick and Tim's laughter.

Dick leaned over, his elbows on the table, his hands behind his head. God, how he hated that videotape. How he hated the sound of his own laughter. He needed to explain, but he couldn't fully explain. Not without revealing his secret. And he couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that. Bruce had worked too hard to preserve that secret. He would honor Bruce's wishes. They all would. He and Tim had discussed it. Besides, it wouldn't help them -- all that revelation would do would be to trade one prison sentence for another. Change the charges, the sentences would exceed their natural lives. It was a true Catch-22. They were damned and there was nothing they could do about it.

"What did you do next detective?"

"After securing the evidence and crime scene, I continued the investigation. I secured a search warrant under seal for Dick Grayson's apartment in Bludhaven and, under our mutual aid agreement with Bludhaven, requested assistance from the Bludhaven Police Department in the search. I had already secured arrest warrants under seal as well for Dick Grayson and Tim Drake."

"And did you conduct a search of Mr. Grayson's apartment?"

"Yes I did, along with a detective and uniform officers of the Bludhaven Police Department."

"What if anything was found in the apartment?"

"The clothes that the defendants are shown wearing on the tape was found lying on the floor of the bathroom. The blood stains were still apparent, although dried and sticky. Something interesting was found in defendant Grayson's jeans."

"And what was that?" Reynolds asked.

"There was blood on the inside the right front pocket of the jeans."

"Any ideas how blood got there?"

"Yes. We found a piece of a shirt sleeve in Grayson's kitchen garbage can. A white shirt sleeve with the embroidered initials -- BTW -- Bruce Thomas Wayne. There was blood on this sleeve, which was confirmed to be Mr. Wayne's blood. It's highly probable that Grayson stuffed this torn piece of sleeve into his front pocket and forgot about it until he got to his apartment."

Dick sighed deeply. Yeah, Jacobs was right about something. That's exactly what happened.

Jon Walter's stood cross-examining Jacobs. "Now Detective, you said the security tapes covered all entrances and exits to Wayne Manor."

"Yes."

"But the security tapes didn't cover the verandah entrance to the study, did it?"

Jacobs looked at Walters, he appeared deep in thought. "I think it did Mr. Walters. I was told it covered every entryway and I believe that was covered."

Jon Walters nodded his head, "Could you the show the jury the tapes showing Mr. Wayne's body being moved from the study onto the verandah?"

Jacobs sighed, "No. We don't have a tape showing that."

"Because there was no security camera covering that entrance."

"I guess not, but the verandah lead out to the back of the property. There was no way anyone could have gotten onto the back of that property without one of the security cameras spotting them."

"You investigated that point, did you?"

"No, but -- "

"Thank you, Detective, you answered my question."

***********************************************************************

The lawyers had gone into chambers with the judge. They were discussing how the defense would proceed -- as two separate cases or as a united effort. Those waiting in the courtroom were at ease until the proceedings began again. The bailiff's kept a close and watchful eye on their prisoners, but as they had throughout the trial, they allowed Tim and Dick to mingle with their family and friends. Two bailiff's guarded the back door so no one could enter or leave without permission.

Jack and Dana approached Tim who was pacing near the defense table.

"Honey, are you okay?" Dana asked.

Tim shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pocket. "Yeah, I guess. Just nervous."

Jack noticed how his son's head was down, looking at the floor. The boy's poor spirits distressed his father. Tim acted as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and he was right. At least, the weight of his world was on his shoulders. And Jack was helpless. He was Tim's father. His duty was to protect his child, but he couldn't protect him from this situation. All he could do was lend his support. He was even limited in how he could comfort his son. Jack then got an idea, "I'll be back," he said as he walked toward the door.

Dana put her arm around Tim's shoulder as they watched Jack speak quickly to the bailiff's at the door before he exited.

"Where's Dad going?"

"I don't know honey, but he'll be back."

Jack Drake did return in a few minutes, a cup in his hand. "Tim," he began as he walked to his son who was still talking with Dana. "Come sit on the front row with me."

Tim, his hands still shoved down in his pants pockets moved past the swinging gate that separated the spectators from the trial's participants and joined his father on the bench.

"I've got something for you Timmy," Jack said. "Something that always use to pick you up when you were blue."

Tim looked confused as his father handed him the cup and then pulled a plastic spoon from his pockets. Tim took the lid off the cup and he smiled. It was one of the first real smiled Jack had seen his son have since this ordeal had begun.

"Ice cream! Dad, where did you get ice cream?" Tim asked excitedly as he eagerly took the spoon from his father's hand.

"In the cafeteria downstairs. I thought that might get a smile out of you."

"Dad, you're the greatest!" Tim said as he started eating his ice cream. Tim slightly turned to his side and pulled his legs up on the bench and leaned his shoulder onto his father. He slipped down a bit so that his head could rest on his father's strong arms. Arms that had held him when he was younger. He wished he were younger now.

Jack draped his arm around Tim, pulling him into him closer. He smiled at how fast Tim was eating his ice cream. He laughed when Tim dropped the spoon in the cup, closing one eye and sticking his tongue into the side of his cheek. "Ice burned your mouth. That always happens to you when you eat ice cream too fast."

Tim laughed, "Yeah I know. But I wanted to eat it all before the judge comes in. I didn't want to lose any of it. Man," Tim began with a sigh, "I wish they'd let us stay here during lunch so you could bring us something from the cafeteria. I've almost forgotten what real food tastes like."

"If I could do that, what would you want?" Jack asked as Tim snuggled closer to him.

"Burgers and fries! Lots of fries! Oh and pizza. And tacos."

"All at once?"

"Hey, I'm a growing boy," Tim replied looking up into his father's face.

Jack closed his eyes at Tim's comment. He felt a pain in his chest. He tried to push the evil thoughts, visions, images from his mind. The images that had been haunting his nightmares for more than a month. "Yeah, my boy. My little boy."

Dana turned away from them to wipe her tears.

***********************************************************************

Walters entered the courtroom alone. He was walking at a fast pace towards Dick who was talking with Wally.

"Dick, come with me now," Walters said as he headed toward the conference room, a sense of urgency in every step.

Dick looked around and shrugged as he got up and followed his attorney. As the bailiff shut the door behind them leaving Walters alone with Dick, he asked, "What's up?"

"We've got a potential problem."

"Problem? We'd better get Tim and Wilson in here too then," Dick said as he turned toward the door.

"That's our problem Dick," Walters said stopping Dick in his tracks. He turned around to face his attorney.

"What do you mean?"

"Judge Vargas said we have to present two separate defenses."

.

"But we're saying the same thing!" Dick said confused. "We didn't kill Bruce. It doesn't matter if we work together or separately, the message is the same."

"No, Dick, it is not the same!" Walters exclaimed as he motioned for Dick to take a seat. "There's a thing in the law called arguing in the alternative. While Wilson's main line of defense will mirror ours -- that you're both innocent and that someone else killed your father -- his second argument will be that IF the jury believes that the two of you killed Bruce Wayne, that you're more culpable than Tim. It's his strongest argument against the death penalty for Tim, that and Tim's age. But that argument bolsters the state's case for the death penalty against you."

Dick was shaking his head, "Tim won't go for that. He'll not allow it. He won't let Wilson do that."

"Tim no longer has a choice in the matter." Dick looked into his attorney's eyes, his face showing his confusion. Jon Walters continued, "Judge Vargas ruled that this was a matter of strategy. An attorney does not have to follow his client's instructions on matters of strategy."

"You mean he'll go against Tim's specific wishes in presenting Tim's case?"

"If he thinks he needs to in order to save Tim's life, yes. Dick, I'd do the same thing if I was in his position."

"You're really worried aren't you?" Dick asked.

"Yes. Being completely honest with you, things do not look good. I know you want to testify, but Dick, I'm going to suggest that you don't."

"Jon, I have to. I can't just sit back silently, I've got to do something. I've go to fight this. That jury doesn't know me, doesn't know Tim. We've got to testify so they can see us as more than what Reynolds is painting us to be."

"I understand what you're saying Dick. I agree with a lot of it. But Reynolds is going to tear your apart on the stand."

Dick looked at Walters through determined eyes, "Let him try, Jon. Believe it or not, a lot of people have tried to tear me apart, they haven't succeeded yet."



To be continued ....