-1Hey Guys,

Thanks again to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. This is the penultimate chapter, so I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Fourteen

August 30th

"Your Honour, the Defence rests."

"Very well." Bryce Holland made a note on the docket and sat back, peering at them through his fine rim glasses. "Have either of you got anything further to add."

"No, Your Honour."

"No, Your Honour."

"We'll take a fifteen minute recess and then I'll hear closing arguments." He lifted the gavel and banged it sharply on the bench. He had left the room before the whispers and murmurs had died away.

It was almost over.

For better or worse, it was almost over.

xxxXXXxxx

"It's a simple case, ladies and gentlemen." Jim leaned against the edge of the jury box. "I told you that when this trial started and nothing has changed."

"The facts speak for themselves."

"Jason Rossi bought an unlicensed firearm. Joanna Rossi used that weapon to shoot her husband. Both defendants have admitted these facts under oath."

"Those facts are indisputable."

"Those facts mean that Joanna Rossi murdered her husband."

He paused suddenly, wary of pushing the issue too hard, of appearing too unsympathetic to the jury. "The Defence has tried to muddy the issue the water surrounding this case. They have tried to make this about self defence. They have tried to convince you that the defendant was a victim of domestic abuse. That she had genuine reason to fear for her life."

"And maybe she did." He shrugged. "Maybe she did feel trapped in an abusive relationship. Maybe she did see her actions as her only means of escape."

"That does not change the facts."

"She murdered her husband."

"Believe me, ladies and gentlemen, I have every sympathy for Joanna Rossi. I have every sympathy for her son. I have every sympathy…" He broke off, coughing, feeling her gaze burning through him.

"That sympathy doesn't change the facts. It doesn't change what happened. It doesn't change what she did."

"It does not change the fact that she's guilty of murder."

xxxXXXxxx

She remembered the last time she had done this, in the same courtroom, with Jim Steele hovering over her like an executioner.

"The prosecution have tried to make this a simple case to cover up their own mistakes and their own errors. They've tried to reduce this tragic situation to the lowest common denominator to deflect attention from their own mistakes."

"My client had been the victim of domestic abuse for a number of years. She has made at least one call to Police. Did Detectives from the 15th Squad follow up on these reports? No. They took the 'simple' way out and arrested the first person they could find."

"My client had been the victim of domestic abuse for a number of years. Did the CSIs from the New York Crime Lab examine her for the signs of this abuse? No. They took the 'simple' way out because they were 'slammed'.

"You've heard the catalogue of errors and mistakes made by the Police and CSIs in the investigation of this 'simple' case. You've heard from the family physician. You've heard from the family members who have testified to the growing abuse. You've heard from Joanna Rossi who was put in an impossible situation and panicked."

"Please do not punish this woman or her family any more than they already have been."

xxxXXXxxx

Bryce Holland angled his chair towards the jury box, interlacing his fingers across his stomach. "This is a smple case. The facts are clear cut and not disputed by either side."

"If you accept these facts, then the choice is simple. Joanna Rossi is guilty of murder and you must return a guilty verdict."

"However, if you accept the defence's argument that the family situation and the errors made by the NYPD represent mitigating circumstances, then you are duty bound to return a not guilty verdict."

xxxXXXxxx

She opened the door slowly, hesitantly, wondering who it would be, dreading it, almost tense with expectation.

It was almost a relief to see him.

"Hey."

"Hey." He slipped inside the door. "How'd it go?"

"I don't know. Okay. I think." She closed the door locking and bolting it. She just wanted to shut the world out for the night, forget about everything just for the evening.

Surely she was owed that much.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Sure."

She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge lifting out a couple of beers. She handed one to him, her fingers, damp with condensation, brushing against his.

She took a hasty drink. "I got something to tell you." She took another drink, grateful for the rush of courage through her system.

Nick shifted uncomfortably, picking at the label on his beer. "Yeah?"

"I went to see Jim. Before the trial started." She took another drink, trying to delay what she had to say. "I asked him to drop the charges against my mother."

"Jess, it…."

"I asked him to do it, Nick. I told him…I told him, I'd do whatever he wanted if he'd drop the charges."

"I know."

"That's the type of person I am, Nick." She smiled bitterly, oddly relieved at the chance to unburden herself. "You still want to be here with me?"

He kissed her before she could say anything more, and she clung to him desperately. Frightened to let him go.

xxxXXXxxx

"Whiskey." Jim shifted on his seat, pushing the empty glass back across the bar, fighting the urge to look at his watch. They wouldn't be back with a verdict yet. Julie had done a good enough job at the muddying the waters.

The barman put the glass in front of him, trickling bourban into it. Jim lifted the glass, holding it up to the light, turning it first one way then the other, watching the way the light reflected through it.

Yeah. Way too close to call.

Damn her!

"Dry white wine, please."

He looked up at the sound of her voice, reflexes and senses deadened by the steady stream

of alcohol. Disbelieving.

She had some nerve.

Of all bars in New York….

He smiled sourly, imagining the morbid piano tune striking up behind him.

"And another one for him."

"Wasn't expecting to see you here."

Julie shrugged, lifting the wine glass in delicate fingers. "Tough case. Brought back a lot of memories."

"I bet it did."

xxxXXXxxx

"I guess the first thing we should do is elect a foreman."

"Seems reasonable." He sat back in his chair, pushing the reamins of his dinner across the table. "I nominate Hank."

"Seconded."

"Any other candidates?"

Not one other hand was raised.

"Looks like its you, Hank."

"Great."

"So where do we start?"

"I guess the basic facts aren't in doubt. She shot him. Even the defence doesn't contest that."

"So why are we here? Seems straightforward to me. Guilty as charged."

"So you don't think the family evidence has any weight? You'd just dismiss the fact that her husband was beating the shit out of her?"

"Well…"

"I guess that's what we have to decide. How much weight do we give to the family evidence? How important were the Police errors? Do they make any difference? That's what the judge said we had to consider." He looked around the table. "Guess we should get started."

End of Chapter Fourteen

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