[Judge Fitzwater's chambers, Thursday November 28]
The judge shook his head vigorously. "The DNA evidence is out, Mr. McCoy."
"If this is about Mr. Luthor's sealed juvenile record," McCoy began, "the Kansas attorney general has the authority to open the file in the event Lex is charged with a felony offence. In my book, pre-meditated murder qualifies as a felony."
"Your Honour!" Lex' attorney insisted, "Only the governor of Kansas has the power - under the deal - to reopen Lex' files. McCoy issued a request to the A.G. in Topeka, who merely informed the governor that the act was already done. It's improper procedure."
"You say tomato, I say to-MAH-to," McCoy quipped.
Justice Fitzwater sighed. "Mr. McCoy, save the stand-up routine for Madison Square Gardens. You can't just run roughshod over Mr. Luthor's expectation of privacy and seize a DNA sample he provided when he was only a minor!"
"It's eventual discovery," McCoy argued. "The sample is part-and-parcel of Lex's records. When he was charged with first-degree murder, surely he knew that his juvenile records - and any DNA samples - would no longer be protected by this deal."
"I see it differently, counsellor," the judge declared. "You may have been justified in requesting Mr. Luthor's existing records, but you can't just go on a fishing expedition looking for evidence you would otherwise not have access to."
"Thank you, Your Honour," Goldstein grinned.
"Not so fast, Mr. Goldstein," the judge replied. "While the D.A.'s office may not have followed the fine print of Lex Luthor's deal, they have respected its spirit. He's charged with murder. That erases, at the very least, any expectation that those records would remain sealed. McCoy, the DNA evidence is out, but Luthor's juvenile records stays."
McCoy nodded in satisfaction. He didn't need the DNA evidence. Lex Luthor's past behaviour would demonstrate that he possessed the mindset of a calculated killer.
Jack dialed his cellphone. "Hi? Serena. It's Jack. Tell me something ... have you ever been to Metropolis before? Well, you'll have your chance sooner than you think ..."
[Smallville City Hall, Thursday November 28]
Lana stepped out of Committee Room 327 and sat on the bench beside Pete. "That wasn't too bad."
"If you didn't mind also signing that gag order," Pete added. "'I, the undersigned, do swear under oath not to discuss what I have revealed in this affidavit until the conclusion of proceedings ... yadda, yadda.'"
"They just don't want our testimony to get out before the trial," Lana replied.
"How come Clark didn't have to give a sworn affidavit?" Lana wondered.
"I talked to Detective Tutuola," Pete replied. "He says the D.A. has 'other plans' for Clark."
Lana squirmed. "I don't like the sound of that."
Tutuola stepped out of the committee room. "You have a state trooper's division around here?"
"There's a station just off the interstate off-ramp," Lana answered.
"Cool," Tutuola thumbed the folders. "Once your pal, Chloe, gives her statement, we'll finally be done with all this paperwork."
Pete looked down the corridor. "What's taking her so long, anyway?"
[The Torch office, Smallville High, Thursday November 28]
Chloe opened the door to find half a dozen sheriff's deputies opening file cabinets and diskette cases.
"What the hell's going on here?" Chloe demanded.
"Search warrant, Ms. Sullivan," Sheriff Miller stated as he presented her with the warrant. "Straight from Topeka."
"They can't ... DO ... this!" Chloe repeated. She opened her contact book. "I'm calling the American Civil Liberties Union!"
"You could do that, Ms. Sullivan." Munch replied. "You'll argue freedom of the press. Our guys will argue that Chelsea Saunders' right to justice overrides your right to free speech, unsavoury though it may sound. The ACLU will take it to the Kansas Supreme Court, maybe to the U.S. Supreme Court. It will drag on for months. Meanwhile, your files and computer collect dust in some evidence locker in Topeka the whole time. So I'd suggest you cooperate ... and spare yourself the agony of not having a laptop during your sophomore year."
"I'll take that risk!" Chloe exclaimed. "I know all about the N.Y. D.A.'s office. Arthur Branch was elected on a tough, right-wing law-and-order platform meant to appease a post-9/11 city. Financed with Luthor Corp. money. Call off your stormtroopers, detective, or I'll let the Daily Planet know about these bully-boy tactics!"
"For the record, Arthur Branch doesn't call the shots for me. New York's Finest does," Munch snapped back, "and I've just about had it up to here with your Gestapo insinuations. Let me remind you that the German papers were willing collaborators in Hitler's propaganda machine!"
Clark walked into the office. "What's ... going on here?"
Chloe frowned as a deputy carried off her laptop. "Hey! That's mine."
"By order of the Attorney General of Kansas," Munch stated, "I'm executing a search warrant for evidence pertaining to Ms. Sullivan's correspondence with one Lex Luthor over the past two weeks. Not to mention her correspondence with you, Mr. Kent."
"You've taken my computer already," Clark complained, "what does Chloe have to do with it?"
Chloe crossed her arms in defiance, as the sheriff's deputies carted off several files, diskettes and CD-ROMs.
Munch pulled out a news clipping from the Daily Planet. "See this girl, Clark? That's Chelsea Saunders. She was not much older that your buddy, Lex. She was murdered, you understand? Murdered! Whether Lex Luthor is guilty of it, that's for a jury to decide. Look, I'm just here to collect evidence. I wanna make sure whoever did it gets his comeuppance. You guys may only be minors, but don't for a minute think that I won't hesitate to slap you two silly with obstruction of justice charges. If you two give me cause."
Munch glanced inside one of the evidence boxes. "Deputy! I said two weeks' worth of files. Not two years! Leave the rest of this here. We don't need it."
Chloe was resigned to the unfortunate situation. "When can I expect my stuff back?"
Munch sighed. "We'll have the feds sift through this material in Metropolis. We'll copy what we need. What we don't need ... you can expect back as soon as possible. Fin and I aren't the bad guys here."
Chloe scratched her head. "I still don't like this ... but, if my files and transcripts are actually going to help you uncover the facts behind the Saunders killing, who am I - a mere high school reporter - to oppose that? Sorry about comparing you and your partner to those brownshirts in Munich. It was unfair. You're right. You're just doing a job."
Munch cleaned his glasses. "You can appreciate the pressure we have down here. We're seriously short of manpower, that's why Sheriff Miller was kind enough to help me out. If you want someone to blame, it's the Kansas A.G. "
"Can I quote you on that?" Chloe beamed.
Munch raised a curious eyebrow. "On how your sheriff's been helping us? Absolutely. On my disdain for the Kansas A.G.? Probably not, but I guess it's too late now. Come on, Ms. Sullivan. I'll give you a lift to city hall. If we don't get your affidavit back to the Big Apple by end of business Friday, the D.A. will want my hide."
Clark was about to join them when Munch stopped him. "We don't need an affidavit from you, Mr. Kent. For the moment."
Clark seemed puzzled. "I'm Lex's best friend. I probably know more about his activities over the past two weeks than my friends do."
"I wish I knew, Clark," Munch shrugged. He checked his cellphone.
1 TEXT MESSAGE: 'Serena's on her way. Pick up at Metropolis Int'l tonite - Fin'
Nuts, Munch grumbled to himself, a lawyer shadowing our every move.
[JFK International Airport, Thursday November 28]
McCoy leaned out the driver's window. "Remember. Take the low-key approach. The Kent kid's probably rattled enough as it is. But not too low-key. I expect him to testify in New York next week and I won't hesitate to charge him with obstruction of justice if he resists."
Southerlyn pulled out the handle of her travel bag. "I'll stop by the FBI field office in Metropolis to look into their findings from Clark and Chloe's computer drives."
"So Ms. Sullivan cooperated then?" McCoy inquired.
"I think her curiosity about this case took precedence over her need to protect her media rights," Southerlyn replied. "She may even scoop the Planet!"
"If only Lex Luthor could be so helpful," McCoy said, as he waved and closed the car door.
Serena stepped to the Northwest Airlines counter. "I have a flight to Kansas. Direct to Metropolis International."
She observed the sniffer dogs and heavily armed officers on patrol in the departures terminal. The world had indeed changed since September 11 ...
[Hell's Kitchen, New York City, Thursday November 28]
Dozens of SWAT officers swarmed around a derelict warehouse. Detectives Green and Briscoe jumped out of their sedan, with guns drawn.
"Thanks for the backup," Detective Eames (Major Case Squad) murmured.
"We had no choice, actually," Green replied. "The dispatcher called for all available units within a two-mile radius."
"Lemme guess," Briscoe added, "this has something to do with the mob."
"We got a tip a mob lieutenant is personally supervising some sort of shipment overseas," Eames replied.
"Open up!" the SWAT commander ordered.
"Showtime, Ed!" Briscoe hollered. One huge officer swung a battering ram, bursting the door open. Immediately, a dozen officers streamed into the warehouse and took cover behind a stack of crates.
"NYPD. Drop your weapons. Now!" one of the officers ordered. The mobsters immediately raised their hands in the air.
"Well, whaddya know, it's Mr. Louie Grundini, former Atlantic City hitman and extortionist-extraordinaire!" Eames quipped as she slapped on the cuffs. "Now a gun merchant for the underworld. You've moved up in the world!"
"Come on, I'm only a wholesaler" Grundini insisted, "Surplus goods, nothing more."
"Holy canoli!" Briscoe exclaimed as he examined one of the crates. "There's enough ammunition in here to start a revolution!"
Green looked at a table strewn with guns, knives and bullets. "Some of these knives are even marked US ARMY. Likely stolen. The shipping order says 'Party favours'. Destination: Colombia."
"Must be some party!" Eames declared.
Briscoe passed by one of the arrested henchmen. "Hey, I coulda sworn I went to high school with that guy!"
"So how come Goren's not here?" Green wondered. "His dance card was full?"
"He couldn't. He's knee-deep in three months' worth of telephone records. The never-ending battle against mob money laundering." Eames replied, as she supervised the collection of evidence. "Fun, eh?"
Green laughed. "Phone records? Poor sucker."
[Sing Sing Correctional Facility, Thursday November 28, 10: 40 p.m.]
The prison guard glanced at the restroom. "It's all clear. Luthor, you can go ahead and do your business."
Lex looked at himself in the mirror. The plain orange prison jumpsuit made him look small. Insignificant. He stood in front of the urinal.
"Must you supervise while take a leak, or can I at least do that by myself?" Lex demanded.
"I'll be outside," the guard grimaced.
Lex finished and walked over to the sink. He splashed water on his face. The day had been long. The morning was spent plotting trial strategy with Richard, his attorney. The one-hour exercise period. Fish and chips for lunch. A heated phone call with his father in the afternoon. 'I've done all I can," Lionel had said, "Stand and fight! It's in your blood.' Salisbury steak and mixed vegetables for dinner. The evening spent reading a two- month old copy of the New York Post. Heck, they were still talking about Game 2 of the World Series!
As he raised his head towards the mirror, he saw another prisoner in the reflection.
"You're Lex Luthor," the six foot man stated, then punched Lex in the stomach.
Lex collapsed on the floor. The man kicked him again in the stomach. Lex' howls brought two guards into the restroom.
"Goddamn Luthor!" the man swore as he was quickly subdued. "My old man died 'cuz of your company!"
Two more guards arrived and wrestled the man to the ground. Lex coughed and wheezed.
"Somebody tell the warden!" one of the guards barked. "We need a full lockdown now!"
Another guard hauled Lex onto his feet. "We'll take you to the infirmary."
Lex felt humiliated. He shuddered at the thought of spending the rest of his life in a hellhole like this. His name could not protect him here.
In Sing Sing prison, the name Luthor would surely kill him.
The judge shook his head vigorously. "The DNA evidence is out, Mr. McCoy."
"If this is about Mr. Luthor's sealed juvenile record," McCoy began, "the Kansas attorney general has the authority to open the file in the event Lex is charged with a felony offence. In my book, pre-meditated murder qualifies as a felony."
"Your Honour!" Lex' attorney insisted, "Only the governor of Kansas has the power - under the deal - to reopen Lex' files. McCoy issued a request to the A.G. in Topeka, who merely informed the governor that the act was already done. It's improper procedure."
"You say tomato, I say to-MAH-to," McCoy quipped.
Justice Fitzwater sighed. "Mr. McCoy, save the stand-up routine for Madison Square Gardens. You can't just run roughshod over Mr. Luthor's expectation of privacy and seize a DNA sample he provided when he was only a minor!"
"It's eventual discovery," McCoy argued. "The sample is part-and-parcel of Lex's records. When he was charged with first-degree murder, surely he knew that his juvenile records - and any DNA samples - would no longer be protected by this deal."
"I see it differently, counsellor," the judge declared. "You may have been justified in requesting Mr. Luthor's existing records, but you can't just go on a fishing expedition looking for evidence you would otherwise not have access to."
"Thank you, Your Honour," Goldstein grinned.
"Not so fast, Mr. Goldstein," the judge replied. "While the D.A.'s office may not have followed the fine print of Lex Luthor's deal, they have respected its spirit. He's charged with murder. That erases, at the very least, any expectation that those records would remain sealed. McCoy, the DNA evidence is out, but Luthor's juvenile records stays."
McCoy nodded in satisfaction. He didn't need the DNA evidence. Lex Luthor's past behaviour would demonstrate that he possessed the mindset of a calculated killer.
Jack dialed his cellphone. "Hi? Serena. It's Jack. Tell me something ... have you ever been to Metropolis before? Well, you'll have your chance sooner than you think ..."
[Smallville City Hall, Thursday November 28]
Lana stepped out of Committee Room 327 and sat on the bench beside Pete. "That wasn't too bad."
"If you didn't mind also signing that gag order," Pete added. "'I, the undersigned, do swear under oath not to discuss what I have revealed in this affidavit until the conclusion of proceedings ... yadda, yadda.'"
"They just don't want our testimony to get out before the trial," Lana replied.
"How come Clark didn't have to give a sworn affidavit?" Lana wondered.
"I talked to Detective Tutuola," Pete replied. "He says the D.A. has 'other plans' for Clark."
Lana squirmed. "I don't like the sound of that."
Tutuola stepped out of the committee room. "You have a state trooper's division around here?"
"There's a station just off the interstate off-ramp," Lana answered.
"Cool," Tutuola thumbed the folders. "Once your pal, Chloe, gives her statement, we'll finally be done with all this paperwork."
Pete looked down the corridor. "What's taking her so long, anyway?"
[The Torch office, Smallville High, Thursday November 28]
Chloe opened the door to find half a dozen sheriff's deputies opening file cabinets and diskette cases.
"What the hell's going on here?" Chloe demanded.
"Search warrant, Ms. Sullivan," Sheriff Miller stated as he presented her with the warrant. "Straight from Topeka."
"They can't ... DO ... this!" Chloe repeated. She opened her contact book. "I'm calling the American Civil Liberties Union!"
"You could do that, Ms. Sullivan." Munch replied. "You'll argue freedom of the press. Our guys will argue that Chelsea Saunders' right to justice overrides your right to free speech, unsavoury though it may sound. The ACLU will take it to the Kansas Supreme Court, maybe to the U.S. Supreme Court. It will drag on for months. Meanwhile, your files and computer collect dust in some evidence locker in Topeka the whole time. So I'd suggest you cooperate ... and spare yourself the agony of not having a laptop during your sophomore year."
"I'll take that risk!" Chloe exclaimed. "I know all about the N.Y. D.A.'s office. Arthur Branch was elected on a tough, right-wing law-and-order platform meant to appease a post-9/11 city. Financed with Luthor Corp. money. Call off your stormtroopers, detective, or I'll let the Daily Planet know about these bully-boy tactics!"
"For the record, Arthur Branch doesn't call the shots for me. New York's Finest does," Munch snapped back, "and I've just about had it up to here with your Gestapo insinuations. Let me remind you that the German papers were willing collaborators in Hitler's propaganda machine!"
Clark walked into the office. "What's ... going on here?"
Chloe frowned as a deputy carried off her laptop. "Hey! That's mine."
"By order of the Attorney General of Kansas," Munch stated, "I'm executing a search warrant for evidence pertaining to Ms. Sullivan's correspondence with one Lex Luthor over the past two weeks. Not to mention her correspondence with you, Mr. Kent."
"You've taken my computer already," Clark complained, "what does Chloe have to do with it?"
Chloe crossed her arms in defiance, as the sheriff's deputies carted off several files, diskettes and CD-ROMs.
Munch pulled out a news clipping from the Daily Planet. "See this girl, Clark? That's Chelsea Saunders. She was not much older that your buddy, Lex. She was murdered, you understand? Murdered! Whether Lex Luthor is guilty of it, that's for a jury to decide. Look, I'm just here to collect evidence. I wanna make sure whoever did it gets his comeuppance. You guys may only be minors, but don't for a minute think that I won't hesitate to slap you two silly with obstruction of justice charges. If you two give me cause."
Munch glanced inside one of the evidence boxes. "Deputy! I said two weeks' worth of files. Not two years! Leave the rest of this here. We don't need it."
Chloe was resigned to the unfortunate situation. "When can I expect my stuff back?"
Munch sighed. "We'll have the feds sift through this material in Metropolis. We'll copy what we need. What we don't need ... you can expect back as soon as possible. Fin and I aren't the bad guys here."
Chloe scratched her head. "I still don't like this ... but, if my files and transcripts are actually going to help you uncover the facts behind the Saunders killing, who am I - a mere high school reporter - to oppose that? Sorry about comparing you and your partner to those brownshirts in Munich. It was unfair. You're right. You're just doing a job."
Munch cleaned his glasses. "You can appreciate the pressure we have down here. We're seriously short of manpower, that's why Sheriff Miller was kind enough to help me out. If you want someone to blame, it's the Kansas A.G. "
"Can I quote you on that?" Chloe beamed.
Munch raised a curious eyebrow. "On how your sheriff's been helping us? Absolutely. On my disdain for the Kansas A.G.? Probably not, but I guess it's too late now. Come on, Ms. Sullivan. I'll give you a lift to city hall. If we don't get your affidavit back to the Big Apple by end of business Friday, the D.A. will want my hide."
Clark was about to join them when Munch stopped him. "We don't need an affidavit from you, Mr. Kent. For the moment."
Clark seemed puzzled. "I'm Lex's best friend. I probably know more about his activities over the past two weeks than my friends do."
"I wish I knew, Clark," Munch shrugged. He checked his cellphone.
1 TEXT MESSAGE: 'Serena's on her way. Pick up at Metropolis Int'l tonite - Fin'
Nuts, Munch grumbled to himself, a lawyer shadowing our every move.
[JFK International Airport, Thursday November 28]
McCoy leaned out the driver's window. "Remember. Take the low-key approach. The Kent kid's probably rattled enough as it is. But not too low-key. I expect him to testify in New York next week and I won't hesitate to charge him with obstruction of justice if he resists."
Southerlyn pulled out the handle of her travel bag. "I'll stop by the FBI field office in Metropolis to look into their findings from Clark and Chloe's computer drives."
"So Ms. Sullivan cooperated then?" McCoy inquired.
"I think her curiosity about this case took precedence over her need to protect her media rights," Southerlyn replied. "She may even scoop the Planet!"
"If only Lex Luthor could be so helpful," McCoy said, as he waved and closed the car door.
Serena stepped to the Northwest Airlines counter. "I have a flight to Kansas. Direct to Metropolis International."
She observed the sniffer dogs and heavily armed officers on patrol in the departures terminal. The world had indeed changed since September 11 ...
[Hell's Kitchen, New York City, Thursday November 28]
Dozens of SWAT officers swarmed around a derelict warehouse. Detectives Green and Briscoe jumped out of their sedan, with guns drawn.
"Thanks for the backup," Detective Eames (Major Case Squad) murmured.
"We had no choice, actually," Green replied. "The dispatcher called for all available units within a two-mile radius."
"Lemme guess," Briscoe added, "this has something to do with the mob."
"We got a tip a mob lieutenant is personally supervising some sort of shipment overseas," Eames replied.
"Open up!" the SWAT commander ordered.
"Showtime, Ed!" Briscoe hollered. One huge officer swung a battering ram, bursting the door open. Immediately, a dozen officers streamed into the warehouse and took cover behind a stack of crates.
"NYPD. Drop your weapons. Now!" one of the officers ordered. The mobsters immediately raised their hands in the air.
"Well, whaddya know, it's Mr. Louie Grundini, former Atlantic City hitman and extortionist-extraordinaire!" Eames quipped as she slapped on the cuffs. "Now a gun merchant for the underworld. You've moved up in the world!"
"Come on, I'm only a wholesaler" Grundini insisted, "Surplus goods, nothing more."
"Holy canoli!" Briscoe exclaimed as he examined one of the crates. "There's enough ammunition in here to start a revolution!"
Green looked at a table strewn with guns, knives and bullets. "Some of these knives are even marked US ARMY. Likely stolen. The shipping order says 'Party favours'. Destination: Colombia."
"Must be some party!" Eames declared.
Briscoe passed by one of the arrested henchmen. "Hey, I coulda sworn I went to high school with that guy!"
"So how come Goren's not here?" Green wondered. "His dance card was full?"
"He couldn't. He's knee-deep in three months' worth of telephone records. The never-ending battle against mob money laundering." Eames replied, as she supervised the collection of evidence. "Fun, eh?"
Green laughed. "Phone records? Poor sucker."
[Sing Sing Correctional Facility, Thursday November 28, 10: 40 p.m.]
The prison guard glanced at the restroom. "It's all clear. Luthor, you can go ahead and do your business."
Lex looked at himself in the mirror. The plain orange prison jumpsuit made him look small. Insignificant. He stood in front of the urinal.
"Must you supervise while take a leak, or can I at least do that by myself?" Lex demanded.
"I'll be outside," the guard grimaced.
Lex finished and walked over to the sink. He splashed water on his face. The day had been long. The morning was spent plotting trial strategy with Richard, his attorney. The one-hour exercise period. Fish and chips for lunch. A heated phone call with his father in the afternoon. 'I've done all I can," Lionel had said, "Stand and fight! It's in your blood.' Salisbury steak and mixed vegetables for dinner. The evening spent reading a two- month old copy of the New York Post. Heck, they were still talking about Game 2 of the World Series!
As he raised his head towards the mirror, he saw another prisoner in the reflection.
"You're Lex Luthor," the six foot man stated, then punched Lex in the stomach.
Lex collapsed on the floor. The man kicked him again in the stomach. Lex' howls brought two guards into the restroom.
"Goddamn Luthor!" the man swore as he was quickly subdued. "My old man died 'cuz of your company!"
Two more guards arrived and wrestled the man to the ground. Lex coughed and wheezed.
"Somebody tell the warden!" one of the guards barked. "We need a full lockdown now!"
Another guard hauled Lex onto his feet. "We'll take you to the infirmary."
Lex felt humiliated. He shuddered at the thought of spending the rest of his life in a hellhole like this. His name could not protect him here.
In Sing Sing prison, the name Luthor would surely kill him.