"We have more than enough to convict him."
Randy Holloway was definitely starting to get on her nerves. Connie glared at her fellow ADA and shook her head.
"We're not trying to convict him," she said. "Well, we are, but we aren't. This isn't some three-ring circus you get to use to show McCoy up."
"If he really did commit these murders, and we can prove it, we have an obligation to take him off of the streets," Randy insisted. "You know it as well as I do."
"I also know that innocent people are often convicted because prosecutors like you don't know when to let the hell go."
"If this is going to be your attitude about this, then I don't see why Branch is even letting you sit second chair."
"It's because no one else had free space in their calendar and because he knows you don't like McCoy. I'm here to rein you in if you get out of hand, Holloway. Don't forget it."
There was silence between the two prosecutors for a long moment, before Connie went on. "What exactly have the police given you?"
"Everything they have," said Randy, sounding quite different than he had sounded a few seconds ago. "Fingerprints, blood, the old case files…"
"Let me have a look at them," said Connie, and everything was put on her desk. She sighed.
"This is a lot of stuff to go through," she muttered. "The forensics, ballistics…all here?"
Randy nodded. "Nothing's been left out," he said. "The detectives told me that their crime labs went over everything at least twice. Didn't want to make any mistakes."
"I should think not," Connie said sarcastically. "Do we even know when this is going to trial?"
"Figured we should at least give him the chance to plead out," Randy admitted. "I might not like the guy, but come on. He doesn't deserve to be dragged through a full-out trial."
"Nice to see you have some amount of decency in you," Connie said sarcastically. "I'll assume you've bothered to contact his attorney?"
Randy gave her a startled look. "Thought he was defending himself?" he said, uncertainly. Connie rolled her eyes.
"He could if he wanted to," she says, "Both of us know that. As it is, he's being represented by someone else."
"And that someone else would be?" Randy asked. Connie sighed and ran a tired hand through her hair.
"Anna Flynn," she said. "I suggest that since you're the one running this case, you talk to her. We'll need a meeting if you're going to talk plea bargains."
"Will do," said Randy, dryly, and then, "Anything else I should know, since it appears that you're actually the one running this show?"
Connie gave him a look. "Only that if you come to me after she tears you a new one for making some comment about Jack, I will have no sympathy whatsoever," she said.
"So she's friends with him."
"You could say that. Now go, before I give Branch a reason to take you off of this."
"The guards told me you haven't eaten lately." It had been three days since Kaye's funeral and four days since he'd been taken into custody. Now, he turned to face her and sighed.
"I don't see the point," he said, plainly. "And they're lying, besides; I ate this morning. Just because they didn't see me…"
"Jack, have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?" Anna asked, quietly, "You look like hell."
"I'm aware of that." He motioned to the clothes he was wearing. "Look at me, for heaven's sake. I shouldn't be here."
"I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I'm working on it." Anna trailed off, awkwardly, and after a long moment, went on. "District Attorney's office wants a meeting."
Jack gave her a startled look, and then laughed, the sound coming more harshly than he'd meant it to.
"Now they want to talk to me," he said. "That's lovely. I suppose they've delegated ADA Rubirosa to running this?"
"Actually, she's sitting second chair," Anna admitted. "DA Branch put another ADA over this…Holloway, I think was the name."
Jack swore softly under his breath. "Great," he said sarcastically, "Arthur knows damn well that Holloway can't stand me…"
"I suppose it's why Ms. Rubirosa is sitting second chair; someone to keep Mr. Holloway in check," said Anna. "You shouldn't worry…" Jack cut her off.
"Shouldn't worry," he said. "Right. I shouldn't worry that I could lose everything, shouldn't worry that I'm probably going to end up dead before this even goes to trial…"
"All you're doing is making things worse for yourself," said Anna, sounding slightly upset. "I don't like this any more than you do, but honestly, Jack, could you at least pretend to cooperate with me?"
He sighed. He could tell that her patience was wearing thin, and he didn't want her to walk away again, so he turned to face her again from where he was, and nodded.
"I don't know if pretend is the right word," he said, and Anna shook her head, an exasperated look on her face.
"Do you want to meet with the ADAs or not?" she asked, and he looked away again.
"Whatever you want to do," he said, and she stared at him. Something was definitely off. In any other instance, he'd push to do things his own way, but now…
"Jack, I meant it," she said, finally, "Do you want to meet with them, or not? We don't have to do this."
"Did they even tell you what they wanted, or did they leave that out?" Jack asked in reply. "Or do I not want to know?"
"They said they wanted to talk," said Anna. "That was all I could get out of them. They're willing to meet whenever you are."
"And I'm supposed to go and see them like this?" Jack asked dryly. "Anna, I really don't think…"
"I went to your apartment building," Anna admitted, without looking at him. "Told the super I was your sister; he gave me a key. I brought you clothes."
Jack laughed. "You are a piece of work," he told her. "I can't believe…" He trailed off for a moment, and shook his head. "I don't know how I'm ever going to…repay you for this…"
Anna rolled her eyes and rose to her feet. "To the District Attorney's office, then?" she asked.
"Don't we have to meet them here?" he asked in reply.
"About that," said Anna. "I…ah…well, to put it shortly, as of now, you're out on bail."
"On…but…" Jack started, but she cut him off.
"Don't ask, don't tell," she said. "Don't worry, I didn't do anything illegal. Now, come on."
"Twenty-five to life."
"That's ridiculous. Your case is circumstantial at best. Blood and fingerprints can all be planted, Mr. Holloway, and we all know it."
Way to greet someone, Anna thought dryly as she walked into one of the conference rooms located within the DA's office.
"The evidence can't be excluded, because no rights were violated, whatsoever. It all came from the crime scenes themselves. We didn't have to resort to anything. We don't even need a confession, Ms. Flynn."
"Believe you me, by the time we're finished, a confession is the only way Mr. McCoy will spend any more time in prison than he already has."
Anna sat, but Jack remained on his feet, rocking back and forth nervously. It was strange, because usually, he was the one sitting opposite Anna, but no…someone else was there, now.
"Have it your way, then. Four murders, Ms. Flynn. Four. Including that of someone you knew quite well." Randy shot back. "You would think…"
"That I would be interested in justice, Mr. Holloway, which I am. I don't get to pick my clients, nor do you get to pick the people you prosecute."
"No, I suppose the police do that for me, now don't they?" Randy asked sarcastically. "Do you really think an offer of anything less would signify to this city and these people that justice is being served?"
"You would think you would have the decency to place the benefit of the doubt with a fellow prosecutor, but apparently not," Anna said sarcastically. "The police may have been over the evidence time and time again, but we're all lawyers here. We know the things that can happen."
"And we all know that the NYPD doesn't fool around when it comes to crime," said Randy. "You're wasting your breath if you think that I'll go any lower than I already have. I could nail him for murder one if I wanted."
"If you wanted," Anna scoffed. "You make it sound like this is some sort of career builder. Nail Jack McCoy, and you might just be the next District Attorney. I'll have you know that I have no intention whatsoever of playing any of your games."
"Truth remains, Ms. Flynn, that the decision is up to your client. If Mr. McCoy chooses to take this, you have no choice but to let him."
"No, but I can call him an idiot, and he'll have to listen to me, now won't he?"
Jack bit back the desire to laugh at this, and shook his head. "Forget it," he said. "I won't take a plea bargain and pretend to be guilty of something I'm not."
"You're only hanging yourself here," said Connie, the first she had spoken since the meeting had begun. "If this goes to trial and you're convicted, you'll lose everything."
"I'll lose everything if I take this plea bargain, and I'm not ready to take that gamble just yet," said Jack, flatly. "I know the two of you are only trying to do your jobs, and make this easier on anyone, but I can't take this deal and live with myself."
"So you're going to let this get dragged out to a trial?" Connie asked in disbelief. Jack sighed, but nodded.
"I don't see what else I can do," he said. "The evidence points out what it does. All I can do is hope that a jury will see it for what it is."
"A cover up, right?" Randy asked, dryly. Anna shot him a look.
"Anything is possible," she said, bluntly, and rose to her feet. "If the two of you have nothing else to do, I'm taking my client home."
They left. She realized how awkward that had sounded as soon as the door swung shut, and shook her head at the amused look Jack gave her.
"We are not going there."