Dishonor
by
Owlcroft
A/N: For JS who presented me with the plot bunny - "Let's give them something to talk about."
They were on the news. Again. Hardcastle had protested when McCormick insisted on changing the channel to the eleven o'clock news, but he was overruled on the grounds of It's Not Your Turn. Sure enough, the third story reported was the car explosion by a couple of Los Angeles vigilantes who had "inserted themselves into a police action" that afternoon.
The well-coifed news anchor made his voice nearly as stern as the news item he read from the teleprompter. "Tonight, we have to report that a well-known vigilante judge, who is long-retired from the bench, has once again 'assisted' the police in a dangerous situation. One that was made even more dangerous for everyone involved by this judge's actions and those of his accomplice. Four teenagers were briefly taken hostage in the Lakeland area and the alleged kidnappers were pinned down by the LAPD when retired Judge Milton C. Hardcastle arrived on the scene and proceeded to interfere with the police response to the crime. We go now to our man on the scene in Lakeland. Roy?"
Hardcastle shifted irritatedly in his chair. "You know what happened. Why do we have to listen to this?"
"Shh," and a wave of the hand were the only responses he got.
"Les, this afternoon, in a precarious situation, a vigilante judge and a former inmate of San Quentin arrived here to find a hostage situation being addressed by our fine police department. Disregarding the police presence, the former prison inmate managed to break a window in a car that belonged to one of the suspects – " gesturing behind him at a burned-out auto – "and throw in what appeared to be a Molotov cocktail. At that point, the police had to withdraw, temporarily, due to the danger of an explosion. Fortunately for the hostages, the police officer in charge, a – " he looked briefly at his notepad – "Lieutenant Frank Harper, was quick-witted enough to realize that the alleged perpetrators had been distracted enough by the fire and subsequent explosion to allow entry by his officers into the rear of the apartment where they were holed up with their hostages."
"That's bad grammar on top of every thing else. Or do I mean syntax?" mused the judge idly. He got another "shh" for his linguistic efforts.
"The hostages were freed by the police and an arrest was made of the three people involved. They have been charged and an arraignment is expected tomorrow. The two vigilantes who created such a treacherous situation made off before the police could question them, but this reporter has hopes that such an interview will result in no more interference with the duly-constituted officers of the law."
At that point, Hardcastle couldn't restrain himself any further and swiped the remote from his accomplice's hand and turned the TV off. "Give it a rest, okay? So they don't like us. Well, they don't like me, actually. That station has been down on me since I refused to do an interview after that whole Supreme Court hoo-ha. It was years ago and they still aren't over it." He shook his head in exasperated wonder.
"Yeah, but they're slandering you. Us. We can't let them get away with that." McCormick was outraged. "You're not a vigilante and Frank okayed the car fire. He was glad I came up with a distraction. They couldn't use tear gas because of the kids so what else were they going to do?" He threw up a hand in disgust. "You can't let those TV bozos get away with this, Judge."
"Look, if it's important to you, we can probably get a retraction – maybe even an apology, but what does it matter? The people who know us know better and people who don't . . . who cares what they think?" The judge shrugged. "What's important is the people we help, cops and victims and their families and friends. I'm not gonna stop what I do because some guy with Vaseline in his hair calls me a name."
McCormick scowled at the television. "But it's wrong. I don't want anyone thinking you're doing something outside the law. You can't let them get away with this. I'm not gonna let them get away with it."
Hardcastle waved a conciliatory hand at him. "Look, I appreciate the thought. And maybe it would be better for the clinic and your own reputation if we 'retired' or at least stepped back and did off-scene stuff from now on. After all," the judge shifted in his chair and sighed a little, "I'm not getting any younger and maybe it's time – "
McCormick was outraged all over again. "You use that same excuse every time something goes wrong or I make any kind of comment or criticism. I'll tell you what's old, Judge, and it's that stupid excuse about your age." He thought for a moment then before saying, "If what you said before about helping the victims is true, then why should we 'step back'? And if it isn't true, well then, we need that retraction. You pick." He sat back and on the couch and eyed Hardcastle patiently and somewhat smugly.
"Hmm." The judge picked at his lower lip briefly, then held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine. We'll call the station tomorrow and fill them in on some facts . . . or maybe . . . it might be more effective to have Frank call and say a few choice words. I can have Andy Stamper send them a little note about a retraction and apology – he'd be glad to do it – and it'll all be over with. All wrapped up and finished. Is that enough for you? You want them to grovel and sweat and apologize personally to my 'accomplice'?"
"Hey, I'm happy to be your accomplice, Judge, but once in a while, I'd like to be the main perpetrator instead." The familiar cheeky McCormick grin appeared.
Hardcastle frowned at him. "Are you sure you don't want some sorta personal, specific explanation? I mean, I suppose bad publicity could affect the clinic and a lot of people are starting to recognize your name in association with it."
McCormick shook his head. "The clinic practically doesn't need me now. The other lawyers are so . . . committed to it, that it could run on its own as long as they have someone keeping a schedule. I'm just a glorified secretary."
"Nah, you weed out the bogus clients, too."
"That's the totally bogus dude clients," McCormick grinned, using the surfer slang which so amused the judge.
Hardcastle swiped a hand across his face to hide his own grin. "Now you're cowabunga."
