In the First Degree
Conviction Part 2
A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about this story or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is faceinbud.
I want to thank candi711 for some legal advice on this chapter, specifically for critiquing my problematic summations. I appreciate your help! I hope everyone is still safe and healthy! We get through this together by staying apart.
I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!
"Amanda?"
The pitter-patter of Olivia's footsteps were usually a comfort, but this morning their meaning was slightly more menacing. It was almost time to go, and by the end of the day, Patton could conceivably be a free man. "I'm in the kitchen," the blonde called out to her fiancée.
As she descended the stairs, the older woman's nostrils were assaulted by the smell of bacon. "How long have you been down here?" Olivia questioned, approaching the other detective.
The brunette quickly kissed Amanda, whose lips tasted of maple syrup. "Long enough to make bacon and pancakes." She extended a plate towards the other woman, chewing on her lower lip. "I already ate. I wanted to feel useful."
Liv gave her a soft smile, reaching out to squeeze her bicep with her left hand as she took the dish Amanda offered her with her right. "Well, thank you, baby. You feeling okay today?" she asked, sitting at the kitchen table.
Amanda put on a brave face, steeling herself with a determined nod. "Yeah. I'm good." She took another few deep breaths as Olivia ate quietly. "There's not going to be a problem with me sitting in the gallery, is there?"
Olivia swallowed a mouthful of pancake. "Why would there be, love?"
The blonde wiped the stove with a damp dish towel, reaching to wipe some hair out of her face with her free hand. "Because I'm a witness," she explained, "and New York is famously anal about not allowing victims to watch trials." Liv smirked a little at her fiancée referring to their state of residence as "anal", but clearly, she got the point. "Obviously, I already testified, and no more evidence is being presented, but the last thing I want to do is jeopardize the trial of this case."
The older detective nodded in understanding. "Let me text Alex really quick, that way we can be completely sure." Amanda had already known much about the criminal trial process, working within the system and all, but Olivia couldn't help but notice how much more knowledgeable she'd become since getting a look at it from the other side of the proverbial lens. She'd been asking Alex in-depth questions, doing her own research late at night, and she'd been objecting to fictional lawyers' attempts to be argumentative as she watched TV more often than she ever did before. The brunette was witnessing Amanda do whatever she could to gain power in a situation where she was practically powerless. Knowledge is power, or so the saying goes. "Hey, will you come sit down with me for a minute?"
"Yeah." Amanda emerged from the cooking area of the kitchen, wiping sweat off her brow with the dish towel. "Everything okay?"
"Everything's fine, sweetheart," the older woman vowed. "I just want to talk to you for a minute."
"Oh?" Every other time in her life where someone had asked her to "talk for a minute", something bad had happened. Her mother was in the hospital. Her dad was going to punish her. Kim had been arrested. Patton was calling her into his office. "Okay…?" She didn't mean for it to come out as a question.
Olivia watched as the blonde sat in a chair next to her, silently giving over all her attention. The more experienced detective could tell her fiancée was nervous, so she casually plopped a hand onto her knee, squeezing gently. "I wanted to tell you that no matter what happens today, or doesn't happen today, we'll figure it out, okay? And I'm so, so proud of you."
Relief flooded Amanda's body. She'd wanted to believe Liv when she claimed that nothing was wrong, but physiologically, her earnest words hadn't been convincing enough. She exhaled easily, leaning her forehead in to touch Olivia's, a combination of syrup and vanilla wafting over her. "Why are you so good to me?"
"You make it easy." The brunette pressed her lips against the younger woman's, a pair of smiles breaking the kiss after a few moments. Olivia checked the notification on her phone when it vibrated.
"Alex?"
The older woman nodded. "She already wrote a motion to allow you to be present for summations and the verdict, on the off chance you wanted to come. Judge okay'd it."
"Wow, she's always prepared," Amanda said, impressed. "You think she was a Girl Scout?"
Liv chuckled heartily. "Not a chance in hell was Alexandra Cabot camping in the woods with a bunch of other little girls."
"That's too bad," the blonde sighed. "I bet she could have sold tons of cookies."
"Now all we can do is hope she can sell this case."
It felt as if no time at all had passed before Amanda watched the defense attorney stand up, sauntering slowly toward the jury box and taking a moment to give the survivor a once over.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Buchanan began, sending chills up Amanda's spine. She turned instantly to the brunette when she felt firm pressure on her thigh. Olivia was wearing her best poker face, but the younger woman could see—and feel—right through it. The squeeze against her slacks wasn't painful, and it wasn't even uncomfortable. Liv would never lose herself enough to be capable of hurting Amanda, but it was clear that the hand against her leg was intended to comfort the older detective just as much—if not more—than it was intended to comfort the blonde. Amanda was alive, and her warm body existed just beneath a sweaty hand. No matter how angry Olivia became, that truth was something she could rely on. Amanda was alive, and she was right there.
Buchanan interrupted the younger woman's psychoanalysis of her fiancée. "I'll leave you with these words before you are charged with deciding the fate of my client, sex crimes Deputy Chief Charles Patton. Ms. Cabot is about to make her closing statement, and she would have you believe that this is a black and white issue, that it is provable—what happened in that warehouse on that day. But the truth is that the people have not proven beyond all reasonable doubt that the encounter between Chief Patton and Detective Rollins was not consensual in nature because there is no way to do so. The doctor that treated Ms. Rollins that day said exactly that, that her injuries were not inconsistent with that of consensual sex, but that there was no way to be sure either way."
Amanda's hand traveled to rest on top of the brunette's, offering a gentle squeeze as her fingers trembled against the other woman's skin, and her eyes moved to examine Alex's body language. It was clear that the attorney was struggling to exude confidence and professionalism. The ADA believed wholeheartedly that she had won this case. But she also knew that an effective—or lackluster—summation could sway the jury, even if it wasn't supposed to. The youngest of the three women watched Alex take in Buchanan for a moment, her gaze intense, and Amanda could tell it was also hateful. The prosecutor tried at first to remain objective, to treat this case like any other, but the moment it became about the very nature of consent, all that was over. Who was she kidding? Her objectivity was over the moment she walked into the police station, asking about Amanda's whereabouts.
"The people also have not proven that their timeline of events is indeed the way things unfolded on the day in question. As you deliberate today, I implore you all to remember this. In criminal trials, the prosecution has the ultimate burden of proof. That means the only way a jury should ever find a defendant guilty is if it can be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that the people's theory of the crime is what actually occurred. Because the burden of proof for a conviction has not been met, you must acquit. You must find the defendant not guilty."
As Buchanan elected to not conceal a self-satisfied smile, Alex remained in her seat for several long seconds, allowing the defense's arguments to settle over the crowd. She was creating tension, setting up the contrast between the two parties. Eventually, she stood up, offering no warning before launching herself out of her seat and sprinting around her desk, coming to stand immediately outside the jury box and resting her hands on the railing. "Good morning, members of the jury."
How Alex went from projecting a death glare from her cold blue eyes to sounding genuinely pleasant was beyond both detectives' understanding. After the greeting, the lawyer took a singular deep breath, allowing for a moment her fingers to tap the railing separating the twelve jurors from the remainder of the courtroom. She stepped back, beginning her quintessential pace and talk, or as Amanda had begun to call it, her "spin and win". "Mr. Buchanan's contention," she claimed, locking eyes with each member of the jury as she spoke, "is that because Amanda Rollins did not explicitly say no to the defendant's advances, we can never really know whether or not consent was given in the time between the texts and Chief Patton's arrest. This is blatantly false."
The prosecutor let herself question for a fleeting instant whether she had ever been this passionate during a summation. It was unlikely. Alex often wrote outlines for her closing arguments, editing them at the last minute to address whatever her opponent would spew, but this time, she'd barely been able to get more than "members of the jury" written down on her legal notepad before violently crossing out the scribbled words, starting over a total of nine times before giving up. She'd come to court today entirely unprepared. This case had shaken the ADA to her very core, and she feared she'd made a fatal mistake. Then, she reminded herself that the evidence was on her side. She inhaled once more, striding towards the jury box and leaning over the wooden railing. She spoke slowly, and her words were measured, certain.
"The quote-on-quote 'consent' the detective gave was in response to a threat. Detective Rollins was coerced by her former supervisor, physically assaulted, and chemically incapacitated. I'll remind you all of the relevant statute. In the state of New York, rape in the first degree occurs when an individual engages in sexual intercourse with another person by forcible compulsion, while this other person is incapable of consent by reason of being physically helpless, or if said person is a child. Detective Rollins was forcibly compelled because Chief Patton threatened the physical safety of another individual, and she was physically helpless because she had been paralyzed. This satisfies two of the three possible conditions for a rape one conviction, the other being the age of the victim, which is not relevant in this case. The defense has tried to tell you, 'Well, she didn't say no.' Members of the jury, allow me to set the record straight. The only reason Detective Rollins didn't say no before the assault is the defendant forcibly compelled her by threatening Detective Olivia Benson, her domestic partner. The only reason she didn't say no during the assault is that the defendant, Charles Patton, rendered her physically helpless, incapable of giving consent. And now, after the assault—you all have the opportunity Detective Rollins didn't at the time. You have the power here. You don't have to let him get away with this. The defense is asking you to believe that the people have not proven beyond any reasonable doubt that Detective Rollins did not consent to sex on the day in question, and here is what I am asking you to believe. There is only one verdict that is supported by the law and the facts in this case. By the definition the defendant himself offered us, Detective Rollins did not ever consent to sexual contact. What Chief Patton did to Detective Rollins is the very definition of rape in the first degree. There is no doubt about it. The defendant is guilty."
As the courtroom cleared out, Alex found the two detectives sitting in the lobby. The brunette stood up as the people's counsel approached. "Alex," she addressed. "That summation was—thank you."
The attorney gave a swift nod. "I think it may be a while, so…get comfortable."
Amanda shifted in her seat. "Which way do you think it's gonna go?"
Alex hated being asked that. If she could read the jurors' minds, her job would be infinitely less difficult and abundantly more straight-forward. But she didn't blame her complaining witness for asking it. They always did. And besides, if anyone had an accurate guess, it was probably the prosecutor. "It's hard to say. I think the jury believes you, but it's hard to prove circumstantially what exactly the order of events were. There may be a few jurors who want to err on the side of caution, and it's hard to push affirmative consent without a precedent. That being said, it would be basically impossible to refute the significance of the text message, as it bolsters our claim and practically destroys Buchanan's. But he doesn't have the burden of proof, and that's what worries me."
Amanda's head bobbed as she attempted to control the speed of her inhale. "Hey, Alex?" The ADA gestured for her to continue. "Thank you for not treating me with kid gloves. I appreciate it."
"Of course." Alex was nothing if not honest. "Always."
Soon, Amanda excused herself to the bathroom, gently not accepting her fiancée's offer to walk her to the ladies' room. She just needed to be alone for a little while. As soon as the blonde was out of sight, Alex's demeaner changed. The rod keeping her back straight slackened and her stoic exterior crumbled. The detective knew what was happening. "I swear to God Olivia, if they don't convict him, I'm going to have an aneurysm." She vibrated her hands over both temples for effect.
"Alex," Olivia reasoned, "no matter what happens, you have to try and stay calm."
The anxious attorney scoffed, a bitter smile sharpening her features. "Or what? You'll hit me with a rock for my own good?"
Olivia took a deep breath before reaching for both of the other woman's hands, attempting to ground her. "Alex," she sighed. She knew the ADA was likely the only other person in the world who understood her own frustration, and her quip about the rock all but proved that. The attorney and the two detectives were powerful, confident women (at least on the job) who were living in a man's world, a world where "I hit her with a rock to calm her down" could feasibly be seen as an appropriate defense, a world where the law still often reflected the view that the absence of a "no" equated the presence of a "yes", a world where Amanda Rollins, the victim of a brutal crime, still felt as if she needed to put on a stronger face than her fiancée and friend. The truth is the attorney and the brunette were both losing it in that moment, and Olivia knew she needed to reel them both back in before Amanda returned. "Amanda hates the anger," Olivia reminded. "If they come back with not guilty, we need to focus on her, okay?"
"Liv, I've never in my life been so angry at a defendant." She ripped a single hand out of the older woman's secure hold and flailed it wildly about in the miniscule space between them. "You know how in the movies witnesses and lawyers climb over the railing to beat each other up?" Olivia nodded. "I wanted to do that yesterday. That's why I asked for the recess."
"Alex, I'm angry too. Every time Amanda cries or has a nightmare, my first response is to be angry. But we can't lose sight of why we're angry. We can't lose sight of what matters. You've done all you can as a prosecutor, and you've done an incredible job. Now it's time to be a friend."
"I know." Alex stepped away from the other woman after a moment, letting her fingers rub the tension from her forehead. "I just…" Would this be a good time to fess up about something the ADA had been struggling with for many years, something she'd been wanting to tell the two women for months? No. Of course this wasn't a good time. There would never be a good time. "...really want to put that bastard away."
"Me too, Al." The two women stood together in silence for several moments, and then Olivia chose to offer up a distraction. "Hey, can I ask you a question about something that happened yesterday? It came up with Amanda, and she made a good point. Defendants can't plead the fifth if they choose to testify, and obviously Patton is knowledgeable about the law, so why did he even try?"
Alex sighed, appreciating the change in subject. Any excuse to discuss trial procedure was warranted in her book. There was nothing like the sterile, clinical, legal comfort of cold, unbiased law. "I was a bit confused about why that happened myself, but I wouldn't be surprised if Buchanan is so full of himself that he instructed his client to say whatever and try everything, especially if he was beginning to think that his rebuttal might not be so strong."
"That's exactly what Amanda said, actually."
"Astute of her to pick up on that," Alex commended, a genuine smile appearing on her lips. "Is she after my job?"
Meanwhile in the bathroom, the ticking of the clock was becoming louder than Amanda could very well take. Her ears throbbed and her eyes watered. Yes, she had locked herself in the bathroom stall herself, but she still felt cornered, trapped. There was no getting out of this. The verdict was going to happen. What could she do to take back some power?
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Four seconds.
Breathe. This day would end eventually.
Fifteen seconds. Sixteen seconds. Seventeen seconds. Eighteen seconds.
Breathe. Olivia wasn't going to leave.
Thirty-two seconds. Thirty-three seconds. Thirty-four seconds. Thirty-five seconds.
Breathe. Tick, tick, tick.
Ninety-nine seconds. One hundred seconds. One hundred one seconds. One hundred two seconds.
Breathe. Think about something else. Tick, tick, tick. The seashells. The seashells at the beach. The sound of the ocean. Laughter. Peace.
Two hundred nine seconds. Two hundred ten seconds. Two hundred eleven seconds. Two hundred twelve seconds.
Breathe. Amanda had no choice about whether this would happen, but she did have a choice about how to respond to it. She didn't need to hide in this bathroom stall, cringing at each abrasive tick of the clock. No one was forcing her to stay there.
Four hundred thirty-one seconds. Four hundred thirty-two seconds. Four hundred thirty-three seconds. Four hundred thirty-four seconds.
Breathe. And maybe that was just an illusion of choice. Maybe Amanda was simply deciding to passively accept an unavoidable reality, to speak her truth, to continue existing. But wasn't there power in that? Wasn't there power in waltzing out of the bathroom and proudly going to sit with Olivia as they waited for a verdict that would change their lives? Wasn't there power in surviving? In living?
Three thousand two hundred seventy-three seconds. That's how long Amanda had waited for rescue—or death—after Patton had uttered his parting words to her. Three thousand two hundred seventy-three seconds of powerlessness.
Tick, tick, tick.
A voice from the hallway. "Amanda? Are you okay in there?"
Once again, it was rescue that greeted her, and not death. "I'm fine, Liv. Is the jury back?"
"No, baby," a somber voice replied. "Alex went to go grab some food for us, and she asked me to find out if you wanted anything."
"Olivia, if they come back not guilty, I'm gonna vomit all over the courtroom floor. Probably better it's not an entire ham sandwich."
Now a knock at the door of the stall. "How about some soup?"
The blonde did feel a little bit cold, and at least it wouldn't be chunky coming back up. "Yeah, that sounds fine. Tell her thank you."
Amanda actually managed to finish the soup, sitting quietly with Olivia. Alex had opted to eat alone in her courthouse office. She had other cases to prepare for, and truth be told, she just wasn't sure how long she'd be able to maintain composure if the jury continued to deliberate into the late afternoon.
And that they did, the younger detective becoming more frustrated by the second. "What the hell is taking them so long, Liv?"
The brunette reached out to rest a hand on the woman's upper back, letting her fingers glide up and down. The ADA had placed them in a private room once she'd returned with lunch, knowing Amanda would need to be in a place where she'd allow Olivia to comfort her. "I don't know, sweetheart," she admitted. "But try and stay calm. I know it's hard." She knew it was hard because with every minute that passed by, she felt her own blood pressure rising, her own lunch revisiting her esophagus, her own breathing accelerate. It was hard for her too.
"What if they're deadlocked? I don't think I could handle another trial."
Olivia hadn't considered the possibility of a mistrial prior to the blonde's words. "One second at a time," she repeated their mantra.
Amanda nodded. Tick, tick, tick.
Both women jumped when the door opened suddenly to reveal Alex, who had immaculately put Humpty Dumpty back together again. "The jury's back," she announced, lingering just long enough to see the detectives rise from their seats before bounding down the hallway.
"Has the jury reached a verdict?"
"We have, your honor."
How many times had Amanda heard that exchange in her life? More times than she'd ever let herself count. But that number had power. Exactly what kind, the detective hadn't yet determined for herself.
A court officer handed the piece of paper with Patton's fate on it to the judge for a brief moment and then he handed it off to the jury foreman. Olivia gave Amanda one last comforting smile as her hand wrapped around the younger woman's. "No matter what happens…" she reminded.
"In the sole charge of the indictment, rape in the first degree, how do you find?"
"We find the defendant, Charles Patton…"
Whoosh! The sound of the ocean penetrated Amanda's ears, and all other sounds became muffled.
Did the jury have a choice here, or, like her, simply the illusion of a choice?
She glanced up at the clock on one of the walls. Tick, tick, tick.
Three thousand two hundred seventy-three seconds.
The waves released her with a crash, and suddenly Amanda was back in the courtroom.
"…guilty."
"Officers, please take the defendant into custody pending sentencing."
Peace.
Alex quickly stood and stepped to Buchanan, offering him a handshake, which he returned out of a sense of obligation. The ADA next turned her attention to Amanda, who was waiting to pull the other blonde into a hug. "Thank you so much."
At the detective's grateful expression, Alex shook her head. "Girlfriend, you did all the heavy lifting."
The prosecutor handed Amanda off to Olivia, who eagerly took the younger woman into her arms. Amanda wasn't quite sure why she wasn't crying. She certainly wouldn't have been ashamed of it. It actually looked like Alex was closer to tears than she was.
Munch, Amaro, and Fin, who'd shown up to hear the verdict after a long day at SVU, approached the trio of women. The older man spoke. "We're gonna go get a drink. Do you guys want to come with us?"
Amanda, feeling five sets of eyes on her, glanced at her phone. It was almost five p.m. "You guys go," she suggested, her gaze lingering on Olivia. "Some time alone in the apartment actually sounds really good right now."
"Are you sure?" the brunette checked.
"Yeah. Yeah," she stressed, "go, get out of the house, hang out with our friends. You deserve some time, Liv."
The older woman nodded. "Okay, but let me take you home first." Amanda knew it wasn't an offer, and she really did want to see her fiancée let loose a little now that they both knew that Patton wasn't going to be released, so she acceded to the gentle request.
"I have some formalities to tend to here, but I can join after," Alex said. She often told herself that offers for the team to hang out didn't extend to her, mostly because even after knowing some of these people for more than ten years, she still wasn't quite sure how to function in a friend group. But the prosecutor wasn't stupid. She knew this invite absolutely applied to her, especially as it seemed like it would be a celebratory outing.
"I'll let you both know where we end up," Fin assured Olivia and Alex, giving Amanda a light pat on the arm. "Congratulations, Amanda. You did good. Now get some rest."
The blonde detective offered him a small smile before allowing her fiancée to lead her out of the courtroom. As the next several hours went by, Amanda found herself feeling numb. It was after eight when the first tears fell from her eyes as she curled up on Liv's side of the bed. She made no effort to halt her crying as her fiancée entered their apartment. Amanda heard Olivia stop at the entrance to their bedroom, the threshold serving as a good enough vantage point to make an impression of the situation.
"Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" It only took a few seconds for the brunette to realize she wasn't peacefully sleeping, and she approached the bed in a hurry, sitting next to Amanda but still keeping some space between them until she figured out what was going on.
That's when the guilt hit, and along with the confusion, she wasn't sure what to say. "I'm sorry, Liv."
Even guilty verdicts can be triggering, the older woman reminded herself. "Sorry for what, love?"
"I don't know why I'm crying. I'm…I'm happy. I'm relieved. I really am okay. I don't know what's wrong with me." Though she was still producing tears, the blonde was also chuckling lightly at herself.
"There's nothing wrong with you, my sweet 'Manda. Nothing at all. The last six months have been intense, and you need release." When she said nothing, the brunette continued. "Is this why you didn't want to come out with us?"
Amanda nodded, wiping away the last of her tears. "I felt it coming, and I didn't want to feel like I needed to hold back. It was easier to cry alone. I'm glad you're here now though. Did you have fun?" she asked after a few moments.
"I did." The brunette laid her hand over the other woman's side, letting her thumb stroke just below where her ribcage ended. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes." Amanda was certain. She just needed a good cry, and she felt better now. "Like you said, I just needed to let it all go." She sat up, leaning her head into Liv's shoulder. "Tell me about drinks. Did Fin get drunk? Does Alex even drink alcohol?"
Olivia kissed her fiancée's temple, right over the faded scar that was now only noticeable if you were looking for it. "Yes, Fin got drunk. So did Amaro. John took them both home. Alex nursed a glass of tonic water all night."
"Just tonic water?"
"Mhm. Why?"
Amanda looked up at Olivia. "Is she okay?" she murmured, for the first time noticing just how tired she was.
The brunette furrowed her brow. "Of course she is," Liv said obviously. "She won the case. She's thrilled."
"No, I mean," Amanda corrected, "in general. Is she okay?"
Olivia felt like she was missing something. "Why wouldn't she be?"
"I don't know." The younger detective shrugged her shoulders. "I just can't shake the feeling that there's a lot about Alex she intentionally keeps from us. I don't blame her for it, I mean, I'm the last person who would judge someone for having secrets, but she's definitely an enigma."
Liv sighed. "You don't choose SVU without a story," she surmised.
You don't leave without one either.
A/N: For the remainder of this story, I plan on responding to every user review, so if you have an account, check your PMs and if you are a guest, feel free to get an account! I've said before that I consider you all to be my betas, so if there's anything you want addressed before the story comes to a close, please let me know. There are four chapters left, and I already have the skeletons of them all written, but I'm happy to add. Be safe!