CHAMBERS OF JUDGE REBECCA STEIN

JUNE 9

The single rose on the desk of Judge Stein's desk felt out of place. Claire could not take her eyes off it, transfixed by the way the light hit the petals. It was such a soft presence amidst the cold lines of the desk and perfect order of the surroundings. Rebecca Stein was a formidable judge, harsh but fair. Unfortunately, she had not been fond of Jack McCoy since the first time he had tried a case in her courtroom. Her sharp features were defined by waves of reddish brown hair as she sat down behind the desk, linking long fingers together.

"Your Honor," began Damien Prescott, "the evidence the prosecution seeks to present is inadmissible. It consists of prior bad acts."

Jack injected, "Miss Kivinski's testimony can form a pattern of abusive relationships that clearly indicates his violent propensity toward women! She even took out a restraining order against him, when she believed herself bodily threatened by his presence at her workplace."

Tearing her eyes away from the rose, Claire looked across at the defense attorney as he argued, "The charges were later dropped."

The slender foot so near her own twitched perceptively, and Jack quipped, "Before or after your client intimated he would kill her if she stood by them?"

The aggravation in his tone was displaced only by the disapproval of the judge, who warned, "Mr. McCoy…"

"Your Honor, my client should not be convicted for a loss of temper that happened twelve years ago. He is not the same man, and should not be forced to pay for former crimes which, by the way, he was never convicted of."

"He was never convicted because he was clever enough not to get caught. His client murdered a woman with a piano wire, Your Honor. If you cannot find evidence of violent tendencies to be admissible, we might as well throw out the entirety of the justice system! Robert Hilton systematically tracked down his wife and murdered her."

The lines of Prescott's countenance hardened and he injected, "Which brings us to the financial statements. My client made numerous business transactions over the past several years that the defense intends to use to prove that he instigated an underhanded search for his missing wife. They are investments in off shore accounts, and should not be admissible as evidence."

"Do you have proof these funds went to a private investigator, Mr. McCoy?" Judge Stein turned a pair of penetrating topaz eyes on the prosecutor. It was not that she disliked him so much as she disapproved of his tactics. Jack McCoy knew exactly where the line was and just how far he could cross it. He was, to put it bluntly, a loose cannon in the district attorney's office, one that no one had any desire of curbing. It was a personal task that she undertook every time he crossed her courtroom floor, but while harsh with him at times, she was nothing if not fair.

"Our investigation has not turned up a name," Claire intervened, "but the last transaction was filed three days before his arrival in New York. He paid his informant in bank drafts made out to cash—hardly a normal business method of transaction."

Everyone looked at her as she considered. "The financials are admissible," she said after a long pause, "but I am limiting your use of former incidents. The charges that were withdrawn are not to be entered into evidence."

"Your Honor—"

"I have made my ruling, Mr. McCoy. If there is nothing else, I will see you in court."

Tightening the muscle in his cheek, Jack nodded and rose to his feet. Claire's heels clicked on the floor of the hall as they left, his pace slowed somewhat as he contemplated what they had left to work with. There was enough evidence to make a solid case, but much of it was circumstantial. Without the use of the several young women who had filed harassment complaints against him, it was possible the defense could put up a decent enough case to walk on an acquittal. There was no physical evidence linking him to the crime scene, just an eyewitness that had picked him out of a lineup who had seen him entering the building several hours before, and the fact that he was the young woman's estranged husband.

Claire shifted her briefcase into her other hand and pressed the button for the elevator. This hour of the day, the courthouse was quiet. There were trials happening behind the succession of closed doors, but only a few bailiffs and bystanders were waiting in the hall. Jack stood silent at her side and she could tell he was remembering. The doors rolled open and he shook it off as he stepped into the elevator.