Monster: Chapter 16
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe.
Day 15: The Federal Courthouse in New York City, 9:27 a.m.
Kate Beckett sits near the back of the courtroom, awaiting her turn to be called to the witness chair, but her mind is – literally – hundreds of miles away.
She had returned to the city late last night on a charter flight, after spending as much time as possible, searching the lower Chesapeake Bay with Keith Hopkins. An early morning call yesterday from Jackson Hunt had given her both mild trepidation and limitless hope. He relayed to her what he had learned from Rodney Simmons – both from his phone conversation as well as a more direct interrogation.
There had been no reaction from Kate to Rodney's last name. That is, until Hunt had informed her exactly who Rodney's father had been. Kate had fumed while listening, wondering just how much of her haunted past would continue to rear its ugly head. The end result, however, was something she had to be pleased with.
Yes, Castle had been held at the compound – this she already knew from the wall of love she had seen with her own eyes. This, she is keeping to herself, for now.
Yes, Castle had been shot, but apparently in the shoulder. That will be painful, but he should live through it. Assuming, of course, he doesn't bleed out, which is highly unlikely.
And yes, Castle had escaped, and the trail of blood into the brush was not his.
However, weakened by a gunshot and likely bad eating habits for the past two weeks – dear God, has it been two weeks? Regardless, he had escaped and most likely – according to Jackson, come across some type of watercraft on the beach. That is the only explanation for why he has not turned up, either in some hospital or motel or whatever. He is on the run, he can't trust anyone, and most likely is out on the water somewhere.
So yesterday, she and Keith Hopkins had spent the afternoon searching open waters, from the Tangier Islands down south toward Norfolk, where her search had initially began. There had been no sighting of Castle in the water, and she has made sure that the Coast Guard from Norfolk is aware is the situation. They now are conducting a much more thorough search of the Chesapeake Bay.
Some laughter in the courtroom brings her back to the present. She finds nothing funny, finds absolutely no humor in the current proceedings. This preliminary hearing will determine – in the judge's eyes – whether or not enough evidence exists to send Senator William Bracken to trial. She knows she needs to be on her A-game, and curses the fates for allowing this to happen with Castle at this time, when she needs to be focused, when she needs her wits, when she . . .
The thought stops her in her tracks. Could it be this simple? Could this have all been an elaborate attempt to get her mind off these proceedings, or to even make sure she was too busy to attend this morning's preliminary hearing. She is, after all, the star witness for the prosecution.
A preliminary hearing, she knows, is not a trial. Instead, it is actually kind of a trial before the trial, where a judge reviews the evidence presented by the prosecution, and determines whether enough evidence exists to force the defendant to stand trial. The judge will use the 'probably cause' legal standard to decide whether the government has produced enough evidence to convince a reasonable jury that the defendant committed the crimes for which he or she is being charged.
Her thoughts are interrupted as she hears her name being called. "Dammit," she thinks, this is exactly what they might have wanted all along. Her distracted. She should be paying close attention to everything happening here, but instead, her mind has been on Castle.
Still she walks confidently to the front of the courtroom, ready to play her role, she hopes, ultimately resulting in the incarceration of William Bracken, the man responsible for her mother's murder. A few seconds later, she sits back, relaxing, waiting for the questions to begin. As she is a witness for the prosecution, she realizes this will start out comfortably. She also realizes, from experience, that the defense also has the opportunity to ask her questions as well.
The questions begin, and follow the script she anticipates. The prosecution asks about the tape, about her mother, about her shooting. Nothing unexpected. That is, until the defense attorney steps forward. She's a looker, standing easily five-feet eleven in her bare feet. But today she wears heels, of course. Her blonde hair is pulled up in a bun, and she walks with an air of confidence. Worse, however, is that she is as good as she looks.
"Detective Beckett," she begins, "first of all, let me thank you for your tremendous service to our city. The youngest woman detective in the city, with a case close ratio far above the city average. Trust me, detective, I know what it is like to be a woman in a man's world."
Kate knows, of course, what she is trying to do. Fortunately the judge does also.
"Miss Thompkins, please refrain from making remarks not relevant to this case," Judge Harkens says in his most official tone.
"My apologies, Your Honor," Karen Thompkins remarks with a smile. "I meant no disrespect to the court."
She turns to face Kate again, and this time, Kate can see plainly that the kid gloves are off. Greetings and salutations have been given, and a predator is now facing her.
"So, Detective Beckett," she begins, "tell me about this infamous audiotape."
"What do you want to know?" Kate asks.
"Well, for starters, did you plant it?"
"Objection," DA Walter Daniels states, standing quickly.
"Sustained," Judge Harkens says quickly. "Miss Thompkins, I will not tolerate any of your games here this morning."
"Again, my apologies, Your Honor," she says sweetly. In reality, all she is doing is feeling Kate Beckett out. This is a heavyweight boxing match. She has the opportunity to keep a powerful politician away from a trial, while doing mental combat with the city's prize detective. Careers are made off little battles such as this, and she's just throwing a few jabs here, waiting to see if she is dealing with a counterpuncher.
She turns her attention to Beckett once more, still interested in the audiotapes.
"So, tell me about the tape, Detective. I understand this was a recording of Captain Roy Montgomery."
"Is that a question or a comment, Miss Thompkins," Kate asks with a smile of her own.
"Touché, Kate Beckett," Karen Thompkins thinks to herself. "You will be a challenge after all."
Judge Harkens tries – barely successfully – to contain a smile, as Thompkins continues.
"It's a question, Detective," Thompkins gives her.
"Then yes, it was recorded by Captain Montgomery," Kate replies, affably.
"And how do we know that this was Senator Bracken's voice on this tape that we have heard, Detective?" she asks. "After all, this tape is rather old, if we are to believe what we are being told."
"It's his voice," Kate counters. "One need only listen closely to realize this."
"Perhaps," Thompkins argues, "but this tape – if we are to believe it – is almost two decades old. The quality on this is horrible. Your claim that it was recorded by Captain Roy Montgomery is very convenient, isn't it, Detective?"
"Convenient how?" Kate asks.
"Check already," Karen Thompkins smiles to herself. "And in so few moves."
"Convenient because he is dead and cannot answer for himself," Thompkins argues, now looking directly at Judge Harkens. Before Kate can muster another word, Thompkins continues.
"A distorted voice on a tape almost twenty years old, recorded by a dead man," Thompkins muses aloud, again glancing at the judge. "This is the evidence we want to use to destroy the career of a public servant in this country?"
Kate cannot speak fast enough before Karen turns her back on her, walking back towards her seat, all the while still talking.
"Who else, Detective, knew about this tape? Who else was aware of its existence?"
Kate tries to hide her crestfallen countenance, knowing where this is going, and now – for the first time – she is seriously concerned that the Senator might actually walk away from this. He, for his part, doesn't even look her way. Instead, he stares ahead at the judge and his attorney. He doesn't smile. He offers his most officious stance, sitting with his hands on the table in front of him.
Kate hesitates, and Thompkins seizes the moment to jab the knife and twist it slightly.
"That, Detective Beckett, was a question, not a comment."
"There was a man named Smith," Kate offers weakly.
"Smith?" Thompkins almost laughs. "What is his first name?"
"I believe his first name was Michael," Kate tells her. No, this isn't going well at all.
"Mike Smith?" Thompkins asks. "Pretty common name, don't you think? You couldn't have come up with a more imaginative name than Mike Smith, or John Doe?"
Thompkins doesn't give her time to answer, or the District Attorney a chance to object. Instead, she continues to press the issue regarding Mr. Smith.
"You mentioned him in the past tense, Detective," Thompkins smiles. "Why is that? Where is he now?"
"Because he is dead," Kate replies, trying with great difficulty to keep the frustration out of her voice. Thompkins is good, as good as her reputation.
"Really Detective Beckett?" Thompkins offers in mock surprise. "Again, that is somewhat convenient, don't you think?"
Kate knows not to answer the hypothetical question. She has to keep Judge Harkens thinking there is a real case here. He has the power to throw this whole thing out. Then where would she be? She would be all the way back to square one with her mother's murder – except now with no evidence, and public opinion believing she is out on some personal vendetta, a crusade of revenge based on emotions, not evidence.
"So," Thompkins continues, "we have two witnesses who can collaborate the veracity, the authenticity of this single piece of evidence, and they are both conveniently deceased. Who else, Detective? Who else can validate this tape – someone who is alive, I would hope, and someone who isn't emotionally involved in this, someone without a personal axe to grind against my client?"
"Richard Castle," Kate offers, knowing that she has to give the name, but also strongly suspecting now why her fiancée disappeared two weeks ago.
"Richard Castle?" Thompkins offers with smile and mock confusion. "Your fiancée, the writer? Perhaps you didn't understand my statement when I said someone not emotionally involved."
Before Kate can comment, Karen Thompkins changes tactics, glancing around the courtroom, as if looking for someone.
"Where is he?" she asks aloud. "Is Mr. Castle here today? I would love to talk with him, to ask him about this infamous, twenty-year old audio tape."
"I don't know," Kate admits, then adds, "We don't know where he is."
"I find this odd, Detective Beckett," Thompkins continues, now sensing blood, "that you are telling the court you don't know where your own fiancée is?"
"Don't you watch the news?" Kate asks her, the venom in her words clear to all in the courtroom.
"Oh that's right," Thompkins continues, undeterred. "He's disappeared."
"We believe he's been kidnapped," Kate remarks softly.
"Oh for heaven's sake," Thompkins replies quickly. "That's just pushing convenience to a new level, Detective," she adds angrily. "Two witnesses are dead, and another is kidnapped. Where is the ransom note? Where is the ransom letter? What communications have been sent to make us believe this is a kidnapping?"
"What else would it be?" Kate asks defensively, immediately regretting her question.
"It might be a well-known, life-long playboy getting cold feet," Thompkins argues, altering her gaze from Kate to Judge Harkens. "A man who has been twice-married, twice divorced, who for the past few years has been a page six regular here in the city. And it wouldn't be the first time the two of you have had a temporary split, would it, Detective Beckett?"
"I don't understand –"
"Isn't it true that two years ago, you and Mr. Castle began dating, and for the most part, moved in together?"
"Yes, that's true, but –"
"And isn't it true that after a year together, you suddenly took another job in Washington, D.C., leaving Mr. Castle here in New York?"
"Well, yes, but –"
"And isn't it true that this move initially caused problems between you and Mr. Castle?"
Kate hesitates again, trying desperately to come up with the right answer – a true answer that can deflect all of this attention away from her and back to the Senator. She recognize the ploy that Thompkins is very effectively using – discredit the witness.
"How long were you gone, Detective? A few weeks? A few months? How long has Mr. Castle been gone? Isn't this par for the course with you two? One leaves, the other stays?"
Thompkins allows her questions to hang in the air – noting the look on the Judge's face, knowing that slowly but surely, she is swaying him.
"How long has he been missing, Detective?" she asks again.
"Fourteen days," Kate responds quietly.
"And in these fourteen days, has there been a ransom note?"
"No," Kate replies.
"No ransom note," she repeats, glancing at the Judge again. "What kind of kidnapping is this? Is there any evidence at all that he has been taken?"
"There were two videos that have been sent," Kate replies, wondering where this line of questioning will lead. If Thompkins knows so much about the personal lives of she and Castle, then she has to know about the videos.
"Where are these videos?" she asks. "Who were they sent to?"
"They were sent to Mayor Weldon," Kate replies, knowing that this, too, is going to look badly for her.
"Your fiancée – who can be a collaborative witness here this morning – is absent. You say he is kidnapped. There is no ransom note. No one has reached out to you, the fiancée. But a video is sent to our mayor? Not to you, not to anyone in Mr. Castle's family . . . but to our mayor?"
Turning to Judge Harkens, Thompkins makes her request.
"Judge Harkens, I'll play along. Can we see this supposed video? Can we get this from the mayor?"
"I have a copy as well," Kate adds, "given to me by His Honor."
"Detective Beckett, if the evidence was sent to our mayor, then I'd like to view what our mayor has from his unbiased hands – not yours," Thompkins tells her with a bit of manufactured anger.
Now turning to DA Daniels, she asks the older man for assistance of sorts.
"I can't produce evidence at these proceedings, of course," she comments, glancing between Daniels and the Judge Harkens. "Obviously, a video indicating that Mr. Castle hasn't just run off could lend credibility to Detective Beckett's claims."
"Would you like for this video in question to be entered in as evidence, Mr. Daniels?" Judge Harkens asks the district attorney.
Daniels considers this quickly. Kate Beckett is his top witness, and this hasn't gone well at all. Thompkins has successfully gotten the Judge to consider the plausibility of his witnesses and his evidence – and that is the whole purpose of this preliminary hearing: for the Judge to decide whether or not sufficient evidence exists to warrant a trial. Thompkins knows that the primary evidence is the audiotape with – presumably – the voices of Roy Montgomery and William Bracken, among others. The fact that it is an analog recording on tape, not a digital recording on disk or CD, was always a bit of a concern. The age of the tape – almost two decades old – was another concern. The voice in question on the tape certainly sounds like William Bracken, but only if you know that's who you are looking for. And the notion that someone could mimic or imitate the Senator cannot be ruled out. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that a U.S. politician was blackmailed.
No, this video might be necessary just to keep this thing together, and get things back on track. Fortunately, the mayor is also sitting in the courtroom, having already been selected as a potential material witness for the prosecution. Perhaps this can still be saved.
"Once Miss Thompkins has finished cross-examining Detective Beckett," Judge Harkens begins, "you can call His Honor to the stand, Mr. Daniels."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Thompkins replies affably. "I'm finished with Detective Beckett," she says, turning her back on Kate Beckett once again. "I have no more questions."
Mayor Bob Weldon takes the time to reach into his pocket, retrieving his cell phone and places a call to his office.
"Sarah," he states quickly, "The two videos of Richard Castle that were sent to me . . . yes, those in my desk . . . I need you to bring those to the courtroom . . . yes, we will need them . . . yes, right away, Sarah, thank you."
Suddenly, he hears Judge Harkens calling to him.
"Mr. Mayor, please approach the bench," Harkens tells him. Mayor Weldon quickly stands and walks to the front, and stands before the bench.
"Mr. Mayor, I'm going to assume that you didn't happen to just be carrying the videos in question with you this morning," Harkens says with a smile. Weldon smiles back as he answers.
"I like to be prepared, Your Honor, but no, I'm afraid not." The mayor, of course, has seen the videos multiple times, and is in no hurry to provide them, knowing that two points of view could be easily taken from viewing them.
"I also saw you on the phone a moment ago," Harkens continues. "Can I assume that you were on the phone with your office, asking someone to bring the videos here?"
"That would be correct again, Your Honor. She should be here within fifteen minutes or so."
"Good enough, Mr. Mayor," Harkens tells him. Then Judge Harkens addresses the courtroom at large.
"We will take a short break, and reconvene in half an hour."
With that, the gavel sounds against the bench, bringing the first round to a close.
Day 15: Somewhere in the northern part of Chesapeake Bay, 10:00 a.m.
Captain Jimmy "Snooky" Brown listens to the communications with his colleagues on board the MH-60 Jayhawk, as they search the northern waters of the Chesapeake Bay. They aren't sure what to be looking for, and are assuming it to be a small craft with a single person inside. They are fairly certain they aren't looking for any type of emergency floating device. The word they have is that their target likely found a small water craft and took to the waters of the Chesapeake at Tangier Island. With a northward current direction, they are estimating where the currents might have taken him in the past twenty-four hours.
"Anything AJ?" Brown asks the junior rescue man.
"Nothing, sir," AJ replies, his eyes still focused on the massive body of water below. "Nothing yet."
"Stay frosty, everyone," Brown tells the other three members of his crew. "It's a small target, I know, but this is what we do."
He glances at the gauges on his dash, paying particular attention to the fuel. Not a problem, so far, as the MH-60 has a flying range of roughly seven hundred nautical miles.
"If you're out here, Mr. Castle," he mutters to himself, "we will find you. Count on it."
Day 15: The Federal Courthouse in New York City, 10:30 a.m.
Judge Harkens has just called the court back into order, as the preliminary hearing for Senator William Bracken recommences. Without hesitation, he looks to District Attorney Daniels.
"Are you ready to begin, Mr. Daniels?" he asks.
"Yes, we are, Your Honor," Daniels replies quickly.
"Then call your witness, please," Judge Harkens says, now sitting back in his chair.
"Yes, Your Honor," Daniels agrees, and then turns to face Mayor Bob Weldon. "Mayor Weldon, please step forward to the witness stand."
For the second time this morning, Mayor Robert Weldon walks to the front of the courtroom, this time making a beeline to the witness stand. After being sworn in, he takes his seat, confident in his abilities to be what he needs to be today – an effective material witness for the prosecution.
"Mr. Mayor, there is a certain video . . . excuse me, sir, two videos that have been brought to our attention earlier this morning," the District Attorney begins. "It has been stated that these two videos of Mr. Richard Castle were sent to your attention. Is this true, Mr. Mayor?"
"Yes, it is," Mayor Weldon replies, knowing enough to answer only what has been asked.
"Do you know who sent these videos to you, sir?" Daniels asks.
"No, I do not," Weldon responds, his hands folded.
"Is Mr. Castle in these videos?"
"Yes, he is," Weldon answers again, very succinctly, giving nothing more than what is asked. He comes across as very professional, confident and official.
"Do you have the videos in question, Mr. Mayor," the DA asks.
"Yes I do," the mayor replies again, reaching inside his coat pocket and retrieving two discs. He hands both to Daniels, who makes a point of showing the videos to the defense attorney, and admitting them into the proceedings as evidence. There is no objection from Karen Thompson. Kate Beckett, however, who sits in the back of the room, would greatly object if she could. She knows what's on the videos. She knows how bad this could look, under the right – or wrong – type of cross-examination.
DA Daniels places the first video into the DVD player, which has hastily been set up with a projector and large screen for maximum viewing by all in the courtroom. Seconds later, those in the courtroom see what appears to be . . . well, no one can tell exactly what it is. There is open space, it looks to be a yard of some type, next to a barbed wire fence. Suddenly, the bouncing form of Richard Castle comes flying into view. He looks to be singing. He is playing air guitar. He is in boxers and tennis shoes, with his hair slicked back and wet. He looks – for all the world – to be having a great time.
Karen Thompkins thinks to herself that she should win some type of award for her ability to withhold the laughter that threatens to burst out from her lips. She clenches her fists, willing herself to remain professional, but hell, this is just too rich. Kidnapped? Not a chance.
Suddenly, Castle bounces backward, falling away from two lions that appear as the camera pans toward the right. Some in the courtroom gasp, while others laugh. The video ends, and the rustling noise in the courtroom starts rising as Judge Harkens bangs his gavel, bringing order to the room.
Kate holds her head in her hands, and if she had placed a glance at Mayor Weldon, she would see the nervous sweat now forming on his brow.
"There is a second video, Mr. Daniels?" the Judge asks, already knowing the answer. Judge Harkens, clearly, is in a bit of shock. He was expecting to see the standard kidnapping video, with a solemn prisoner staring at the camera, validating his existence, giving a date or timeframe, something along those lines. But what he has just seen looks more like a man on vacation, a man on safari who got too close to the fence protecting he and other guests from the wild animals they probably have paid great money to interact with.
"Yes, Your Honor," the district attorney replies, unable to keep the nervousness out of his voice. Across the aisle from him, Karen Thompkins barely masks a smirk, while Senator William Bracken remains motionless. Behind them, Elizabeth Bracken sits calmly, with no worries. She knows exactly what is on each tape.
Daniels replaces the first disc with the second, praying against all odds that it isn't as damaging as the first. Seconds later, the screen goes black again for a few seconds, before a title appears, giving the illusion that they are watching a home movie.
'A Day in the Life of Richard Castle' appears on the screen as a title, drawing chuckles from the courtroom, including Karen Thompkins. The title slowly fades, and suddenly, the unmistakable voice of Bobby McFerrin warbles throughout the courtroom.
Here's a little song I wrote
You might want to sing it, note for note
Don't worry – be happy.
The laughter in the courtroom rises to almost movie-theatre levels, as the judge, the attorneys, the witnesses and family members all view what most definitely is not a kidnap/ransom video. Slowly the image of Richard Castle fades in, sitting in the shade, legs crossed and . . . apparently talking to the two lions across the fence who are sitting calmly. There is no indication from Castle's face or demeanor that he is afraid, and the only thing noticeably different is that his facial hair is . . . well, the fact that he has facial hair, which normally he does not. The beginnings of a beard and mustache are clearly visible. Just another sign that he is – what he appears to be – on vacation, having a good time.
The video ends, and a very nervous District Attorney Daniels shuts the player off, as chuckles in the courtroom finally die down. He looks over at Mayor Weldon, still on the witness stand, who offers nothing in the way of explanation.
"These videos came to your attention, Mr. Mayor?" he asks again, simply stalling for time, trying to come up with a good line of questioning given the very damning circumstances now.
"Yes, they did," the mayor replies, now trying to add something, anything to help the cause. "I don't know who sent them, or why they came to my attention."
"Checkmate," Karen Thompkins thinks to herself, now unable to contain the smile on her face. She also cannot contain a glance back at Kate Beckett, her smile still intact. Their eyes meet and Thompkins intentionally hold the gaze – and her smile - for a second longer than necessary before turning her attention back to the mayor in the witness chair.
"No further questions, Your Honor," Daniels remarks with disappointment. This could barely have gone worse. Then again, he reconsiders that thought as Karen Thompkins quickly stands, approaching the mayor.
"I, on the other hand, respectfully have many questions, Your Honor," she says sweetly, addressing Judge Harkens, who grants her access to the witness.
"Mr. Mayor," she begins, "you know Richard Castle very well, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," the mayor replies, once again opting to give as little information as possible.
"You are long-time friends, poker players, you attend parties together. His daughter refers to you as her uncle. Yes, you know Richard Castle all too well, Mr. Mayor. Does he, in any way, look stressed to you in these videos?
She doesn't wait for an answer – not yet.
"Does he look frightened? Does he look in any way afraid? Or does he look like he is having a grand old time?"
The mayor stumbles for words, not at all the smooth politician he is. Not when it comes to his friend.
"Mr. Mayor, isn't this little escapade exactly the type of thing you would expect from Richard Castle?"
"Not anymore," he counters. "Not since he has been with Detective Beckett."
"Then why was this video – clearly proving that Mr. Castle isn't a victim of some kidnapping scheme – why was it sent to you, and not her? But a better question, Mr. Mayor, is why have you not made this video available to the public?"
"Mr. Castle is being treated as a missing person by the New York Police Department, Miss Thompkins," the mayor states, finding more courage with his words. "These videos are considered evidence, and not made public for that reason."
"Even though," Thompkins replies caustically, now going in for the kill, "there are citizens dying on our streets, being stalked by some madman. There are people dying, mercilessly and brutally, in the worst possible manners, by a deranged killer who looks for Mr. Castle, and who continues to tell us that – and I quote – 'someone knows where he is'. In the face of all of this, you and the NYPD have chosen to keep these videos hidden and silent – videos which clearly show a Richard Castle who is willingly off on some extended party somewhere where he doesn't want to be bothered."
"Another perspective," the mayor offers calmly, trying to regain control of the interrogation, "is that he is being held captive, and making the best of the situation. After all, most vacationers aren't fenced in behind barbed wire."
"For crying out loud, Your Honor," Thompkins says, addressing Judge Harkens. "Given the fact that there are lions out there, I would hope to heaven there is a strong fence!"
The laughter in the courtroom acts has her curtain call, as Thompkins relieves the mayor of the witness seat.
"I have no further questions for the mayor, Your Honor," she says, walking back to the defendants table where Senator Bracken now has the small rumblings of a smile forming on his face. Mayor Weldon stands and makes his way off the stand and back into his seat in the courtroom. He catches Kate Beckett's gaze, and neither of them say a word. No words are necessary. This has been a disaster.
"I do have one more question, Your Honor," Karen Thompkins continues, walking toward the Judge's bench, but stopping short. She walks in mini circles, talking to the courtroom at large along with Judge Harkens.
"My client is being held on charges that are unprecedented against a United States Senator. The evidence that forms the foundation of these charges is based upon an analog recording that is almost twenty years old, now somewhat distorted. We are asked to believe that this is the voice of a younger Senator Bracken, a man we now know had many enemies back in that time. We are asked to believe that a fledgling DA turned away the opportunity to take down city mobsters, but instead chose to blackmail these criminals. We are asked to believe this even though there is – and has never been – any evidence in the Senator's bank accounts – then or now – that supports any significant deposits of that kind. We are asked to believe that a Senator who has a clean record – both legally and morally – would lower himself to such a crime. We are asked to believe that this Senator also resorted to murder – multiple murders – in order to cover these crimes. And we are asked to believe this coming from the daughter of one of his alleged victims, a daughter who has used NYPD resources during her vendetta against my client. And finally, we are asked to believe that she waits until the various people who could collaborate this wild tale have either died, or disappeared. My question, Your Honor, is why are we having this preliminary hearing in the first place, and why my client – an esteemed Senator of our country, is being forced to go through this farce of justice, all because of one sad, vengeful, vindictive woman who has yet to deal with her mother's death that occurred over almost twenty years ago?"
Karen Thompkins walks slowly and deliberately to her table, taking her seat beside Senator Bracken. She looks straight ahead, not making eye contact with anyone. She has thrown the gauntlet down, and now will not say another word.
The fate of her client – and the rapidly crumbling world of Kate Beckett – now sit in the hands of Judge Harkens, who wears a very disturbed look on his face.
Day 15: Twenty Minutes later, still in the Federal Courthouse in New York City
Kate Beckett sits, her head in her hands, stunned, willing herself to breathe – one breath at a time. She feels the blood pounding – one heartbeat at a time – in her temples, she feels the pressure of her heart heavy in her chest. Mayor Bob Weldon and Captain Victoria Gates sit on either side of her, knowing there are no words to say, as Senator William Bracken walks past her, his hand firmly grasping that of Elizabeth Bracken. He opens the door of the courtroom, and walks out exactly as Elizabeth had promised five days earlier.
A free man.
Day 15: Somewhere in the northern part of Chesapeake Bay, 11:27 a.m.
"What is it?" Captain Jimmy Brown asks excitedly, his eyes darting left and right as he holds the MH-60 chopper steady, hovering over the area as AJ has requested. AJ and Donny Morris both peer outside the open door, downward and roughly twenty yards ahead.
"You're right Donny-boy" AJ smiles excitedly, yelling in his mouthpiece. "Small craft, sir, about twenty yards astarboard toward the bow."
Brown lowers the aircraft, slowly moving forward until the happy yells of the crew bludgeon his ears. There, below them, is a small craft with . . . with a very naked man inside, curled in a fetal position. He is either sleeping or unconscious. No matter. They have found him. The hunt for Richard Castle is now over.
"Lower the basket," Captain Brown orders the crew, glancing at his gauges again.
"Close," he thinks to himself. "It's going to be close, but we should make it." He mentally starts making plans to shorten the trip, landing well short of North Carolina.