JUSTUS, JUSTITIA, JUSTICE!
PART III
"I left my home at 6.30am EST to begin my walk to work, the White House, actually. I'm the Deputy Communications Director, one of the most prolific and prestigious occupations. I mean, I get to provide words for the President of the United States. Anyway, I digress.
"The sky was a wonderful hue of azure and as I walked along I was thinking how wonderful a day it was. Anyway, as I got to the junction on 36th and 43rd, it would have been approximately 6.57am EST by then. I felt an additional presence in my little conscious circle of personal space, someone was encroaching on my domain. Before I had time to think, there was a second man. They approached me from behind and I felt something cool and sharp pressed up against my throat. I was unsure of what it actually was until I saw it glint in the sunlight. I saw it in my peripheral vision, then I realised straight away, that it was a blade.
"The men demanded my watch, my wallet and my cell phone, then they snatched my briefcase, which contained my laptop, which incidentally contains some material pertaining, ironically, to some of the street crime legislation, on which we are currently working. If there's a God, or any justice, they'll read it and it'll scare the crap out of them. Once they had relieved me of my things they struck me on the back of the head, and whilst I was on the floor they kicked me a couple of times in the stomach. I have the footprints to prove that, if you need them. Obviously they'd never heard the saying about kicking a man when he's down.
"The first guy was a Caucasian male, late teens, early twenties, blond spiky hair - he looked like he had just plugged himself in. He was wearing a grey vest and blue combat trousers and on his left bicep there was a tattoo of a spider. He was quite tall, a couple of inches taller than me. The other guy was bigger. African-American. He had a navy sweat top and a pair of khaki combat fatigues. A right pair of thugs if you ask me.
"They both spoke with a heavy drawl, probably Carolina. Wherever they were from, they certainly had very few manners. After they had gone I sat on the ground for a while, collecting my thoughts, I'm not sure for how long. Then, when I felt sufficiently composed, o continued on my journey to work."
"How was that?"
"Beautiful Sir. If you could just sign and date it at the bottom, we'll be on our way, see if we can't catch the culprits." Sam signed and dated his statement.
"You know who they are?" an astonished Josh asked.
"We have our suspicions, sir. We have our suspicions."
With that, the two police officers picked up the statement and proceeded our of Sam's office, leaving the Communications bullpen in a flash and a flurry. Silence momentarily prevailed, until, that is, Josh broke it.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You do know that it was a police statement and not a creative writing assignment, don't you?"
"Sure. You think that I went too far?"
"No. No. As the officer said, it was beautiful. Not many verbs, though. I get the feeling that, had he been present, Toby would have turned a particularly interesting shade of purple."
"You think?"
"Yeah. Just a hunch though."
"OK."
Toby walked into the room.
"Everything done?"
"Yeah." Affirmed Josh.
"You OK Sam?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
"They think they know who did it. They recognised them from Sam's description, about which, by the way, the committee for the Nobel Prize for Literature has been informed." Sam glared while Toby rolled his eyes.
"Oh dear God. Josh, please tell me he didn't."
"He did."
"He did? Oh God."
"Yeah."
"Your head hurt, Sam?"
"A little."
"You feel tired?"
"A little."
"Do you want to lie down?"
"I'm fine. Thanks, Toby."
"You want to do some opposition prep. just you, me and my couch?"
"How could I refuse an offer like that?"
"Does that mean that I now have to go and put up with the life and loves of Donnatella Moss?"
"Yes, Josh." Said Toby. "And no doubt you'll have a large number of questions to face and rumors to quash."
"The Spanish Inquisition is nothing compared to being grilled by Donna." Josh nodded the affirmative. "You going to be all right, Sam?"
"Yeah."
"You take it easy, OK." Josh said as he reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder.
"Yeah."
"Come on. Let's get you next door." Toby offered Sam a hand to help him to his feet. Sam stoically declined and stood by himself, following Toby around and into the older man's office. Once inside, Sam sank back on the couch whilst Toby moved the chair from behind his desk and moved it nearer the couch. He grabbed a wad of papers and his laptop. "You ready to start work?"
"Bring it on!"
"Where so you want to start, Sam?"
"I think we should begin with the lex talionis [an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth]."
"OK. Any other. requests?" Toby could see that Sam was talking from the heart.
"I'm very pleased you asked, Toby. No doubt the country would benefit greatly if we based our justice model on the Islamic Shari'a law, except I'd be tempted to cut off more than the criminals hands."
"Oh good."
"Of course, we could always opt for rehabilitation."
"That's what we're looking to do Sam, this is opposition prep."
"I mean," Sam carried on heedless of what Toby was saying, "Karl Menninger had some great ideas in the 60's about medicalizing criminality. Give the crooks cocktails of drugs, electric shock treatment, full-frontal lobotomies."
"And we're back to the maiming." Toby muttered, putting his head in his hand. "Bonnie." He yelled.
"Toby?"
"Go find Josh Lyman for me. Tell him to bring a straight jacket."
"What?"
"Just do it Bonnie." Toby said in a tone that seemed rather resigned. "Does your head hurt, Sam? I mean really, does your head hurt?
"It's OK"
"No Sam, it's really not. I mean, does your head hurt? We're not allowed to do things like that. I'm pretty sure that might count as an infringement of something important, if only I could remember what. Oh! I know! The Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the UN Declaration of Human Rights."
"I'm sorry."
"What?" Toby asked more out of shock at the man's quiet tone than anything.
"I said I'm sorry. I guess that I'm just a bit cranky; my head aches, my stomach is sore and I have the overwhelming desire." Sam yawned, "to fall asleep."
"OK. You want to lay down?"
"No. I'm fine. I'm sorry. I guess, I guess that I'm just mad with the guys that did this. Not knowing whether or not they've been caught." Sam's voice was soft. Almost broken.
"It's OK. Just tell me one thing though, Sam. Did you have all that really heavy stuff you just threw at me in your briefcase?"
"Yeah. I've been working on it at home." Toby smiled. "What?"
"Nothing, Sam." I just hope that they read it. Toby added to himself.
There was a light knock on the door, and Josh opened it and entered quietly.
"Everything OK?" he mouthed. Toby half-nodded.
"How are you doing, buddy?" he addressed Sam,
"I guess I'm shaken. More than I thought I was."
"You want me to get the First Lady?"
"No!" A look of absolute horror fell across Sam's face. Josh shot Toby a nervous glance. Toby shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"I think he needs to go home Josh. Could you drive him?"
"What? You don't think I have work to do?" he teased.
"No Josh, I don't. You're you. If you sit in a minute, I'll just go and tell Leo that Sam's going home."
"But." protested Sam.
"Sam is going home whether he likes it or not. He needs to relax and he needs to sleep. Do you think there's a possibility that you might be able to stay with him for a bit? Just make sure there's been no major damage done to his head." Josh understood the double entendre hidden within, the remark however, was entirely lost on Sam.
"Yeah. Sure. You go see Leo, I'll sit with him." Josh sat down on the couch next to Sam and smiled reassuringly, putting his hand on Sam's knee."
X ~ X ~ X
"He's really been so badly affected as to need to go home?"
"It shocked me too, Leo, but you know how moderate Sam usually is in his attitude towards punishment, well, today he's trying to see how many human rights conventions he can violate in one go."
"Really? Sam?"
"I now. He says that he's just a little cranky, but I don't want to risk coiling Sam up too tight while we're working on this Street Crime's Bill. If he gets any more tense, he'll snap."
"I do see that it might cause a few problems. Who's taking him home?"
"Josh."
"Josh? You think that's a good idea? You know how Josh can get."
"I know, but I think that having Josh around might do some good. It might make him face his demons and talk candidly for once."
"You think he's keeping something from you?"
"Yeah. He's as scared as hell, but he won't admit that to me. Josh, I don't know. All I know is, much as it pains me to say it, I want the old Sam back. It's nice that this new one's quiet and all, but it's just plain wrong." Leo nodded sagely.
"OK. Lets just hope that it works."
"Yeah. Thanks Leo."
PART III
"I left my home at 6.30am EST to begin my walk to work, the White House, actually. I'm the Deputy Communications Director, one of the most prolific and prestigious occupations. I mean, I get to provide words for the President of the United States. Anyway, I digress.
"The sky was a wonderful hue of azure and as I walked along I was thinking how wonderful a day it was. Anyway, as I got to the junction on 36th and 43rd, it would have been approximately 6.57am EST by then. I felt an additional presence in my little conscious circle of personal space, someone was encroaching on my domain. Before I had time to think, there was a second man. They approached me from behind and I felt something cool and sharp pressed up against my throat. I was unsure of what it actually was until I saw it glint in the sunlight. I saw it in my peripheral vision, then I realised straight away, that it was a blade.
"The men demanded my watch, my wallet and my cell phone, then they snatched my briefcase, which contained my laptop, which incidentally contains some material pertaining, ironically, to some of the street crime legislation, on which we are currently working. If there's a God, or any justice, they'll read it and it'll scare the crap out of them. Once they had relieved me of my things they struck me on the back of the head, and whilst I was on the floor they kicked me a couple of times in the stomach. I have the footprints to prove that, if you need them. Obviously they'd never heard the saying about kicking a man when he's down.
"The first guy was a Caucasian male, late teens, early twenties, blond spiky hair - he looked like he had just plugged himself in. He was wearing a grey vest and blue combat trousers and on his left bicep there was a tattoo of a spider. He was quite tall, a couple of inches taller than me. The other guy was bigger. African-American. He had a navy sweat top and a pair of khaki combat fatigues. A right pair of thugs if you ask me.
"They both spoke with a heavy drawl, probably Carolina. Wherever they were from, they certainly had very few manners. After they had gone I sat on the ground for a while, collecting my thoughts, I'm not sure for how long. Then, when I felt sufficiently composed, o continued on my journey to work."
"How was that?"
"Beautiful Sir. If you could just sign and date it at the bottom, we'll be on our way, see if we can't catch the culprits." Sam signed and dated his statement.
"You know who they are?" an astonished Josh asked.
"We have our suspicions, sir. We have our suspicions."
With that, the two police officers picked up the statement and proceeded our of Sam's office, leaving the Communications bullpen in a flash and a flurry. Silence momentarily prevailed, until, that is, Josh broke it.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You do know that it was a police statement and not a creative writing assignment, don't you?"
"Sure. You think that I went too far?"
"No. No. As the officer said, it was beautiful. Not many verbs, though. I get the feeling that, had he been present, Toby would have turned a particularly interesting shade of purple."
"You think?"
"Yeah. Just a hunch though."
"OK."
Toby walked into the room.
"Everything done?"
"Yeah." Affirmed Josh.
"You OK Sam?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
"They think they know who did it. They recognised them from Sam's description, about which, by the way, the committee for the Nobel Prize for Literature has been informed." Sam glared while Toby rolled his eyes.
"Oh dear God. Josh, please tell me he didn't."
"He did."
"He did? Oh God."
"Yeah."
"Your head hurt, Sam?"
"A little."
"You feel tired?"
"A little."
"Do you want to lie down?"
"I'm fine. Thanks, Toby."
"You want to do some opposition prep. just you, me and my couch?"
"How could I refuse an offer like that?"
"Does that mean that I now have to go and put up with the life and loves of Donnatella Moss?"
"Yes, Josh." Said Toby. "And no doubt you'll have a large number of questions to face and rumors to quash."
"The Spanish Inquisition is nothing compared to being grilled by Donna." Josh nodded the affirmative. "You going to be all right, Sam?"
"Yeah."
"You take it easy, OK." Josh said as he reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder.
"Yeah."
"Come on. Let's get you next door." Toby offered Sam a hand to help him to his feet. Sam stoically declined and stood by himself, following Toby around and into the older man's office. Once inside, Sam sank back on the couch whilst Toby moved the chair from behind his desk and moved it nearer the couch. He grabbed a wad of papers and his laptop. "You ready to start work?"
"Bring it on!"
"Where so you want to start, Sam?"
"I think we should begin with the lex talionis [an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth]."
"OK. Any other. requests?" Toby could see that Sam was talking from the heart.
"I'm very pleased you asked, Toby. No doubt the country would benefit greatly if we based our justice model on the Islamic Shari'a law, except I'd be tempted to cut off more than the criminals hands."
"Oh good."
"Of course, we could always opt for rehabilitation."
"That's what we're looking to do Sam, this is opposition prep."
"I mean," Sam carried on heedless of what Toby was saying, "Karl Menninger had some great ideas in the 60's about medicalizing criminality. Give the crooks cocktails of drugs, electric shock treatment, full-frontal lobotomies."
"And we're back to the maiming." Toby muttered, putting his head in his hand. "Bonnie." He yelled.
"Toby?"
"Go find Josh Lyman for me. Tell him to bring a straight jacket."
"What?"
"Just do it Bonnie." Toby said in a tone that seemed rather resigned. "Does your head hurt, Sam? I mean really, does your head hurt?
"It's OK"
"No Sam, it's really not. I mean, does your head hurt? We're not allowed to do things like that. I'm pretty sure that might count as an infringement of something important, if only I could remember what. Oh! I know! The Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the UN Declaration of Human Rights."
"I'm sorry."
"What?" Toby asked more out of shock at the man's quiet tone than anything.
"I said I'm sorry. I guess that I'm just a bit cranky; my head aches, my stomach is sore and I have the overwhelming desire." Sam yawned, "to fall asleep."
"OK. You want to lay down?"
"No. I'm fine. I'm sorry. I guess, I guess that I'm just mad with the guys that did this. Not knowing whether or not they've been caught." Sam's voice was soft. Almost broken.
"It's OK. Just tell me one thing though, Sam. Did you have all that really heavy stuff you just threw at me in your briefcase?"
"Yeah. I've been working on it at home." Toby smiled. "What?"
"Nothing, Sam." I just hope that they read it. Toby added to himself.
There was a light knock on the door, and Josh opened it and entered quietly.
"Everything OK?" he mouthed. Toby half-nodded.
"How are you doing, buddy?" he addressed Sam,
"I guess I'm shaken. More than I thought I was."
"You want me to get the First Lady?"
"No!" A look of absolute horror fell across Sam's face. Josh shot Toby a nervous glance. Toby shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"I think he needs to go home Josh. Could you drive him?"
"What? You don't think I have work to do?" he teased.
"No Josh, I don't. You're you. If you sit in a minute, I'll just go and tell Leo that Sam's going home."
"But." protested Sam.
"Sam is going home whether he likes it or not. He needs to relax and he needs to sleep. Do you think there's a possibility that you might be able to stay with him for a bit? Just make sure there's been no major damage done to his head." Josh understood the double entendre hidden within, the remark however, was entirely lost on Sam.
"Yeah. Sure. You go see Leo, I'll sit with him." Josh sat down on the couch next to Sam and smiled reassuringly, putting his hand on Sam's knee."
X ~ X ~ X
"He's really been so badly affected as to need to go home?"
"It shocked me too, Leo, but you know how moderate Sam usually is in his attitude towards punishment, well, today he's trying to see how many human rights conventions he can violate in one go."
"Really? Sam?"
"I now. He says that he's just a little cranky, but I don't want to risk coiling Sam up too tight while we're working on this Street Crime's Bill. If he gets any more tense, he'll snap."
"I do see that it might cause a few problems. Who's taking him home?"
"Josh."
"Josh? You think that's a good idea? You know how Josh can get."
"I know, but I think that having Josh around might do some good. It might make him face his demons and talk candidly for once."
"You think he's keeping something from you?"
"Yeah. He's as scared as hell, but he won't admit that to me. Josh, I don't know. All I know is, much as it pains me to say it, I want the old Sam back. It's nice that this new one's quiet and all, but it's just plain wrong." Leo nodded sagely.
"OK. Lets just hope that it works."
"Yeah. Thanks Leo."