Here's the final chapter of the Caine Mutiny. Once again, and for always, I will state my writing creed: I will never in my life, under any circumstances, write a story that does not have a happy ending. Deb
(H/C)
"Let the charge be read."
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
(H/C)
"While Mr. Stapleton has very graciously declined to press legal charges, there is still a serious internal investigation that must proceed. We hold the public trust, and for three officers to act so blatantly beyond the scope of the law cannot be ignored. If you have any comments in defense of your actions to make to the board, you may do so." The chairwoman of the IAB panel sat back firmly in her chair, placing her bureaucratically unyielding pen in bureaucratically precise alignment across the bottom of the file on the table in front of her.
Horatio came to his feet. "My colleagues have asked that I speak for all three of us." He waited respectfully while the board glanced at Tripp and then Calleigh for confirmation. When the board was once again focused on him, Horatio continued, firmly confident. His head was up, his shoulders back, but the overall impression was not defiance but simply knowledge that he had fulfilled his own moral code. "We all will plead guilty to the charge of breaking and entering and proceeding onto Stapleton's estate without a warrant. However, we dispute the charge that we acted in frank disregard of a private citizen's property. Last Thursday, at the point when the warrant request was turned down, I went back to CSI to re-evaluate the evidence. At that time, I had no intention of proceeding with a search on my own. Were it not for a new method, the possibility of using the dog to find Bill, I would have never gone to Stapleton's estate that night. Argo had a capability that any human investigator lacks. Without disturbing property, without rifling through items, he could merely walk around an area and determine by smell whether his master had been there. I submit that this was the most respectful way pertaining to Stapleton's property that I possibly could have obtained an answer to whether Bill was on that estate. I disturbed nothing beyond the fence until we were convinced that Bill was in the shed. When evidence of a crime was turned up regarding the drugs in the garage, we left them alone and did not investigate further. I had no interest in violating Stapleton's property rights; I only wanted to find a fellow officer, and Argo offered a way to do that and get an absolutely certain verdict without disrupting private property. A search carried out under a warrant would have caused more disturbance than we did."
"I also was bound by the absolute knowledge that time was running out for Bill. I have here a statement from his doctor that in another few hours, he would have been in critical condition. In another day, he would have been dead. I had an opportunity, a new idea, that might prevent that if my suspicions were correct, without disturbing Stapleton's property if my suspicions were incorrect, but it had to be done that night. Any sort of delay would have been too long."
"To the final charge of using a police dog to attack without properly warning the subject, we plead not guilty. I did not order Argo to attack on Thursday night. Rather, he was given that command by Morrison himself, two nights earlier, when Morrison shot him and attacked his master in front of him. Morrison started that fight; Argo merely finished it. As soon as I was able to secure the situation, I pulled the dog off."
"As police officers, we are sworn to protect and serve. I truly believe that in the very unique circumstances that I found myself in Thursday night, with time running out for Bill, no warrant for Stapleton, and a means of obtaining a certain answer with minimum disturbance, I fulfilled that vow as well as I possibly could have. This did involve breaking and entering, but it was not done with disrespect for Stapleton's property. It was done purely to save a life. I regret that it was necessary, and I cannot imagine the same circumstances occurring again. As I said, but for the chance of using Argo, I never would have broken into that estate working on my own. However, if the exact same situation occurred again, I would once again make the same decision, because what we are protecting, at the heart of our duty, is not the public property so much as it is the public lives. When lives and property come into direct conflict, the right to property must yield, while still respecting it to the greatest extent possible."
Horatio sat down. There was a silence for a minute, the soundless echo of the impact of his words. In the room, which was packed to capacity, far more than usual for IAB hearings, no one moved. Finally, the chairwoman shook off the mood and looked at Calleigh and Tripp. "Do either of you have anything to add to what Lieutenant Caine has said?"
"I'd like to ask Lieutenant Caine one question, if I may." Calleigh stood. "Just underlining how much we were aware of a citizen's private property. Horatio, when you cut that fence Thursday night, I asked you what you would do if Argo searched the entire estate and concluded that Bill was not there. Tell the board what you told me, please."
"I said that I would leave enough money stuck to the fence to fix it," Horatio responded. Connor Stapleton, who was sitting in the front row of the observers, straightened up, looking even more shocked than he had for the last few days, if possible.
"Thank you. I wanted that statement in the record." Calleigh sat down.
"Detective Tripp?" Tripp shook his head and gave a wordless grunt. He was perfectly satisfied to let the others speak for him. "Is there any further evidence or testimony that any of you wish to present for consideration?"
"I'd like to present something for consideration." Eric stood up in the rows of spectators and walked to the aisle, coming forward into the moat separating the defendants' table and the board's table.
"Eric? What are you doing?" Horatio was totally puzzled. He looked at Calleigh, but she was just as surprised as he was.
"Do you object to the introduction of whatever Delko wishes to state?" asked the chairwoman.
Eric flashed his trademark grin at Horatio, looking confident and somewhat underhanded at the same time. Horatio sat back in his seat. "No, let him speak."
"Thank you." Eric took two steps forward, facing the board, and took a stack of papers out of the file he was holding. "I would like to read this document into the record. It states, 'We the undersigned members of the Miami-Dade Police Department wish to present ourselves for internal investigation and disciplinary action. Given the extremely unusual chain of events which led to Lieutenant Horatio Caine and two fellow officers breaking into the estate of Connor Stapleton last Thursday night, we feel obliged to inform IAB that, given the same knowledge and opportunity, we all would have made exactly the same decision. Therefore, as holders ourselves of the public trust, we deserve equal punishment to that given those three officers, and if they are dismissed from the force, we will promptly submit our resignations because we will no longer be qualified to perform our duty on the public's behalf.' It is signed by 286 MDPD members, including myself." Eric marched forward and plopped the document down in front of the chairwoman's nose.
Horatio came out of his chair. "Eric, what are you doing? You could lose your job!"
Eric spun around on his heel and faced his superior directly. "Shut up, H." Calleigh hooked Horatio's arm and pulled him back down into his chair.
The IAB board had found its collective voice. Three members started to speak at once, stopped, and finally, one alone continued. "Are you trying to blackmail this board?"
"Not at all," Eric replied. "We are solely concerned with the public trust. We would have made the same choice that night, if we had had it to make. Therefore, if that was such an unforgivable violation of our role as public servants, none of us are fit to remain on the force. We are untrustworthy, and we should in the public interest remove ourselves from our positions of influence."
The chairwoman squared the corners of the stack of papers formed by the signatures, making it a bureaucratically neat pile. "You may be seated, Delko." Eric fought back a grin, gave her a respectful nod, and returned to his seat. Speed leaned across Alexx to give his coworker a high five. The voice of authority continued. "Is there anything else to be considered?" No one spoke. "The board will withdraw to consider your statements." The IAB filed out of the hearing room, and the spectators turned to each other with a low rumble of conversation.
Connor Stapleton stood and walked over to Horatio. He still looked utterly dazed, as he had been since Thursday, forced to admit to himself how little his money was actually good for. "Mr. Caine, would you really have left money on the fence?"
"Yes," Horatio replied. "Actually, I'll pay to fix it now, if you'll give me the amount. I thought that you were involved, but since you aren't, you shouldn't have to bear the cost of that. You didn't realize what Morrison was doing, or Chip either."
Stapleton stared at him. "No, that won't be necessary. I'll fix it. It's not like I can't afford it, and money might as well be useful for something." He ran one hand across his face like he wasn't sure it was still there. "My wife is leaving. Chip and Mitchell – I mean Morrison – are in jail, of course. All my life, I thought money gave us special rights, but I never meant for anyone to get hurt, certainly not killed. I'm so sorry about that officer. You may not believe that, Mr. Caine, but it's true."
"I believe you," Horatio said, studying him. "You know, money can be useful, Mr. Stapleton."
"I'm beginning to debate that." Stapleton was studying his shoes.
"With genuine interest and caring behind it, it can do a lot of good," Horatio continued. "For instance, we do have a police widows and orphans fund." Stapleton's head came up suddenly as his eyes focused. "You can't undo it, Mr. Stapleton. You can't buy off what's happened. But if you really care, you can make a difference from here on."
Stapleton considered it. "That's a good idea, Mr. Caine. I'll think about it."
"One word of advice," Horatio said. "Keep your money company. Don't just send it off places without your involvement. Caring is priceless."
The door opened, and the board bustled back in. Stapleton reached out tentatively, shook Horatio's hand, and returned to his seat. The room came to order. The chairwoman glanced at a paper in front of her, as if she needed a reminder of the decision. "Your statements have been taken into consideration, as have your previous sterling records with the force. However, you did still violate the law, and that cannot be ignored." She looked back down at the paper, letting the silence lengthen. "All three of you will have a notation placed in your record, and you are also being placed on probation for the next three months. During that period, the board will be paying careful attention to how you conduct your jobs and how you follow procedure. If we become convinced of any pattern of disregard for the rules, you will be immediately dismissed from the force. This hearing is concluded."
A low rumble erupted in the room. Horatio, Calleigh, and Tripp looked at each other and slowly relaxed. "Good job, H," Tripp said.
"I was just presenting the evidence," Horatio stated. "I think it was Eric that swayed them. You know what would happen if 286 members of the force simultaneously resigned? I'm going to have to talk to him, though. That really was crossing the line. He was practically daring the board to punish him, just so he could help a friend." Horatio stood up and turned, looking for Eric, who was almost out the back door. "Eric!" he called.
"See you back at CSI, H." Eric darted out the door.
Calleigh and Tripp looked at each other in silent exasperation as Horatio, still grumbling softly about Eric's actions, gathered up the papers.
(H/C)
Rosalind ripped the paper away from the box in front of her with enthusiasm. She had been unsure what to do with the presents, but after Calleigh had demonstrated with one, she got the idea. She pulled the last paper away from the box and banged on the lid until Horatio reached over to open it. "Patience, Angel. It's not going anywhere."
Rosalind pulled the large stuffed horse out of the box. "Horse!" She hugged it, then placed it on the floor and tried to climb on. The horse, which was built in beanbag style, promptly collapsed. "That one is to hug," Horatio told her. "You can ride the wooden one." He indicated a former present, and Rosalind tottered over to it, dragging the beanbag horse behind her by one hoof.
Rosalind had started walking two days previously, having suddenly concluded that it was time to walk. She had tried, fallen, picked herself up, and swatted away any comforting hands. She didn't want comfort; she wanted to walk. After 45 minutes straight of tottering, falling, and scrambling back up, with silent tears escaping even while she refused to cry, she managed to string several shaky steps together. She had walked over to Horatio then and let herself be held for the first time since she had started the process. Horatio had been her constant cheerleader, keeping hands off and not trying to help, once he realized what she wanted, but keeping up a running scorecard, applauding her efforts. Calleigh had been busy trying to keep Jean from intervening. Jean, of course, thought that Rosalind should be picked up and comforted, even if Rosalind didn't think so.
Tonight, Christmas Eve, Jean was sitting on the couch holding a blue sweater, kneading it with her hands. "This is just what I wanted, dears. So thoughtful." It was just what she wanted because Horatio and Calleigh had given her money to select her own gift. "The best gift, though, is seeing you two so happy together. All you really needed was a little talking to. I'll never forget how I sat the two of you down right on that couch and spent over an hour explaining your mistakes to you, and it made all the difference. Just think, if I hadn't come . . ."
"There's one more present." Calleigh cut ruthlessly across her mother's words.
"Where?" Horatio looked around. "Rosalind's opened all of hers, and we already exchanged ours."
"It's in the kitchen. It's for you. I'll be back in a minute."
"In the kitchen?" Horatio looked puzzled. Calleigh had gone out for a last minute errand run, but she had announced she was going after more wrapping paper and had indeed returned with some. She must have slipped another package in while he was back in the nursery changing Rosalind.
Calleigh picked up the box and returned to the living room, feeling unusually tentative. She still wasn't totally convinced how he was going to take this. Horatio took the box from her and noticed instantly that it had air holes. "Calleigh?"
"Open it." He started neatly, painstakingly removing the paper, and Rosalind dismounted from her horse, tottered across, and ripped the wrapping away.
Laughing, Calleigh picked her daughter up. "Let Daddy open the box, Rosalind. This one is his."
Horatio opened the box and removed the kitten. It was a calico, still quite small, with a red ribbon tied around its neck. The ribbon looked slightly chewed at this point, but the thought was there. He extended one finger and scratched it under the chin, and a purr larger than the kitten filled the room. He looked back up at Calleigh, and she could see the thoughts racing through his eyes. He had told her he hadn't had a pet since Max, since his mother's death.
"I thought we needed a pet," she said tentatively. "It'll be good for Rosalind." She also thought that it would be good for him, perhaps some kind of symbolic statement in his life that the years of self-imposed solitude were truly over, that he was once again in a happy family, as he had been before his parents' deaths. She hadn't wanted to push it as far as getting a dog, but maybe a cat, she had thought. "I got it from the shelter today," she went on. "I picked one that was due to be put to sleep, so we've saved a life, Horatio. Here's at least one that you know about." She trailed off, trying to analyze his expression.
Rosalind wiggled in her arms, straining toward the kitten, and Calleigh let her go. Horatio picked up her small hand, showing her the right direction to pet the cat. The kitten purred in double time. "Horse?" Rosalind looked up at Horatio questioningly. She knew it wasn't a horse; she just wanted the term.
"No, silly girl," Jean cut in. "That isn't a horse. It's a kitty. Say kitty."
"Hope," Horatio said.
"What?" Calleigh joined her husband and daughter sitting on the floor.
"Her name is Hope," Horatio repeated.
"Hope," Rosalind said brightly.
Jean smiled down benevolently on the three of them. "Isn't it just wonderful to be a family at Christmastime? And just think, if I hadn't come, you wouldn't have been together. This is a beautiful Christmas, isn't it?"
Horatio looked at his daughter and his wife. "Yes," he said. "It is." Calleigh had been about to apologize silently for her mother once again, but Horatio forestalled her, leaning across their daughter for a deep and satisfying kiss. Rosalind, occupied with Hope, didn't notice enough to interrupt, and Jean didn't want to disturb any reconciliation. The only sound left in the room was the deep, throaty rumble of contentment from the kitten.
(H/C)
Next on CSI:Miami – Fearful Symmetry: A subseries story, the title of which I won't give away until I have to. Rosalind's first birthday brings sweet dreams, Calleigh-style.