Once there was an assistant who stapled an internal memo to a document
that was sent to defense counsel, and that case was lost. I thought it was a
career-ender, but they gave me another chance.
--Ben Stone, "Discord."
June 29, 1972
State Supreme Court, Manhattan
The words sounded like they were being spoken in slow motion.
"On the first count of the indictment, murder in the second degree, how does the jury find?" asked the judge.
"We find the defendant, Joseph Purcell, not guilty."
Purcell immediately shot out of his seat with a wide grin, giving his attorney a frenzied handshake. Behind the prosecution table, the victim's family cried out in horror. Alfred was already out of his seat, trying to console them.
But Ben couldn't move. He was frozen, unable to even lift his gaze from the floor; he could literally feel the cold stares of those seated behind him.
Of course, they didn't really know that he was the reason for Purcell's freedom. That he was the one who'd accidentally stapled a damning police memo to a document that had been sent to Purcell's attorney. That his mistake had devastatingly been used to the defense's advantage.
Alfred was now giving the victim's family the standard apology; that the system had failed, and the District Attorney's Office was sincerely sorry. It took every fiber of Ben's being to keep from going over there and telling them the truth; that he was at fault, the system hadn't failed them, and the District Attorney's Office was unwilling to admit to his mistake.
Only three months as a prosecutor, and he was already finished. But that paled in comparison to the knowledge that he'd helped a killer go free, and forever soured a family's belief in justice.
One Hogan Place
Three Hours Later
Ben packed the contents of his cubicle, wanting desperately to get out of the building before breaking down completely. Even though he hadn't yet received official notice of his dismissal, he knew that it was as good as delivered.
"What in the hell are you doing, Stone?"
Alfred Wentworth's sharp voice nearly made Ben drop his glass paperweight. He turned around, finding his soon-to-be former boss leaning against the cubicle door.
"Packing my things, sir," Ben replied, his voice cracking slightly.
"Don't you think that's a bit premature?"
Ben's eyes widened. He had to wonder if Alfred had been drinking.
"I'm being fired, aren't I?" he asked softly, amazed that he managed to force the question out of his mouth.
"You're a good lawyer, Stone, and you have a lot of potential," Alfred said. "But you did make a very serious mistake, and I will be forced to let you go if you do anything like that again. So put that damned box away – a double homicide just crossed my desk."
With that, the EADA was gone. In the blink of an eye, Ben had been redeemed.
But he'd be paying the price in guilt for years to come.
finis