By the Book Chapter 22

Warning: for language

Jake watched as his father crumpled into the chair. He was so easy! Walking over to his father Jake stopped at his father's desk and rifled through his papers.

"What are you doing?" Mark asked, standing up to look over Jake's shoulder.

"Looking for something…ah, here it is." He held up a paper with personal data and information on Robert Goren. Including his address. "Just in case…" he said it mostly to himself.

"Leave it alone, Jake," Mark said threateningly.

Jake turned into him, snarling. "Why, Dad? Why! You're more worried about him than me! Why is it so hard to remember that I'm your son!" He gave his father a shove, nearly knocking him down. Jake stared at his father, suddenly realizing. "You're thinking of turning me in, aren't you?"

Getting no response, Jake continued, his rage rising uncontrollably. "You are!" he said, answering his own question. "You bastard! You son of a bitch! You listen to me, Old Man. If you turn on me…if I even think you're getting ready to do that, I'll blow that fucking cop's brains into the next century! Then you won't have to choose!"

"Jake--"

"Shut up! Just…shut the hell up, I gotta think…" Jake was pressing in on his temples, so hard he appeared to be in pain.

Mark looked flustered, then frightened. Was Jake totally out of his mind? "What the hell? Jake! You're talking crazy! You're--"

"Talking? You think I'm talking crazy?" He looked at his father, and Mark did not recognize his son in those bright crazy eyes. "I'm more than talking crazy, I AM crazy. And I'm warning you, don't cross me. First I'll take that cop down, then I'll take you down, I'll take this whole thing down, I don't care! So just sit tight, Pops, and let it go."

Mark sat down slowly behind his desk. Oh my God! What the hell was going on? Jake was totally out of control. This whole thing was out of control. It was only a matter of time before someone else was hurt. Or killed. A feeling of dread overcame Mark as it suddenly hit him: Jake was right, he was not just acting crazy, Jake was crazy. It had been a long time coming, he couldn't exactly put his finger on when it happened, but it did. And he also realized that Nicole Wallace had not been killed by accident. She had been killed purposely, by a vengeful obsessed Jake, as punishment for her perceived affair with Goren.

After leaving his father's house in a fury, Jake made a little pass to the apartment building where Bobby lived. Calming down a little, he decided to watch for a while. It seemed like a quiet little place, not too much activity, and not a lot of comings and goings. Perfect.

Bobby's Apartment

Joe and Bobby were in Bobby's living room, discussing the upcoming trial.

"I think it's looking pretty good, Bobby. I'm pretty sure we can at least get you off on the 'reasonable doubt' angle."

"That's good, Joe. But I'm not guilty. If I get off on reasonable doubt there will always be those who will doubt me. I'm a police detective, Joe, I'm supposed to be the embodiment of trust. Who's the hell's ever going to trust me if they have doubts about me? If I've never been cleared of a muder charge? I want better than 'reasonable doubt'!"

Joe looked Bobby in the eye. "I'm not sure we can do that, Bobby. They've got compelling evidence—"

"That is BULLSHIT! You know that! Their evidence is all circumstantial! It's lies! It's—"

"It was good enough for the grand jury," Joe pointed out.

"Fuck you."

"Bobby, for Christ's sake! I'm just telling you--they've got enough evidence. They've got you over the body, they've got fingerprints, and they've got motive. Reasonable doubt may be the only way we're going to get you off."

"That's just great," Bobby said miserably. "I'll lose my job over that—"

"Then we file a discrimination suit against the department."

Bobby slumped down on the couch. "That's not what I want, Joe. I don't want to sue to get back a job where I'm not wanted. And if they have doubts about me, they won't want me."

"Bobby, the department doesn't have doubts about you. You're the one who has doubts about you."

Bobby ran his fingers through his hair, just the act of moving his arm making him wince in pain.

"And if you don't keep your arm in that damn sling," Joe threatened, "I'm going to sic old Clara and Carla on you again."

That brought a smile to Bobby's face as he thought of the elderly sisters and their constant clucking over him. It felt good to know that they cared so much for him.

"Alright," he conceded, putting his arm back in the sling. But he was not happy. "We'll work on my reasonable doubt defense. I don't agree with it, but more than that, I do not want to go back to prison."

Finally Bobby looked at Joe and told him. "Joe, I'm not going back to prison."

Joe was surprised that Bobby even had to mention that. "I know that. That's what we're working for here."

"No."

"What?"

"I will not go back to prison."

Joe was confused, spreading his hands out. "What?" he repeated. "What are you saying?" Then he narrowed his eyes, and watched Bobby carefully.

"I'm telling you, Joe, so you can do whatever it takes to keep your own ass out of jail, but the minute it starts looking bad, I'm out of here."

Joe was on Bobby in a second. He actually grabbed Bobby by the front of his shirt and shoved him onto the couch. He was furious. "Keep your mouth shut, Bobby, and don't say another word!"

He didn't have to worry about that. Bobby was half lying on the couch, bent over, doing his best to hold his ribs. For a fleeting second Joe felt bad that he'd hurt Bobby like that, but the moment passed. "Do you have any idea what it means to jump bail? DO YOU?"

Bobby looked up at him through pain-filled dark eyes, and tried to straighten up. Now he was furious. "And do you have any idea of the HELL I've been through for the past five months!"

Joe started to say something, but Bobby had barely started. "The beatings, the food deprivation? Do you know what real hunger feels like?" He didn't wait for an answer. "It hurts, Joe, it friggin hurts. That goddamn guard never let me get used to it. He'd starve me, then let me gorge myself. Then it started all over."

Bobby stopped for a breath. "And that was only part of it. Every day, EVERY GOD DAMN FUCKING DAY, they threatened me. They threatened to beat me, to torture me, to fuck me with objects! Every day they told me today was the day, and the newest plan they had for me. Every fucking day," he finished in a whisper, "and I wasn't even in the real prison yet. You know what they did to me."

Joe stood there, momentarily at a loss for words. "I…I know it was especially rough… for you…"

Bobby just stared at him. "Look, all I want you to do is to keep yourself out of trouble over this, and…understand, and help Alex to understand…"

"She won't, Bobby. Not in a million years. You do this, and it'll kill her. She'll never understand."

Bobby painfully ran his hand over his face. "Make her," he said grimly.

"No, Bobby. You wanna jump bail? YOU tell her. You deal with her. When some bounty hunter drags your dead ass body back here and she has to identify your body in some morgue, well I guess then I'll have to deal with her. Or maybe your captain will. Or your friend Lewis."

Bobby sighed, and turned away.

Joe watched him. Y'know, I ought to just have them revoke your bail. Maybe it'll save your life."

"Yeah," Bobby said. He was very bitter. "Save me from one killer, to be killed by a worse one."

One week later

Bobby's trial—The State of New York versus Robert Goren—had begun, and the courtroom was packed. Some of the spectators included Alex, Deakins and his wife, Lewis, plus friends and acquaintances of Bobby, a few enemies gloating over his misfortune, and more than a few curious neighbors and onlookers. And Asst. Chief of Detectives Mark Connelly sat in the very back.

Bobby sat next to Joe near the front of the courtroom. He listened as the prosecutor, ADA Peter Williams, gave his opening statements.

In a very theatrical performance, he told the jury how he intended to prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Robert (Bobby) Goren had maliciously and willfully killed the victim, Nicole Wallace. That Mr. Goren had had gone to the residence of Ms. Wallace in an attempt to prevent her from revealing to the press and the entire world the details of their sordid relationship, that of a police detective and an accused killer. When that failed, he had maliciously killed her to insure her silence. Williams claimed that he would produce witnesses who would swear they had seen Goren over the victims body, and that he would provide motive and proof.

Bobby listened to all this practically in shock. He knew what the prosecutor would say, but to hear it said aloud, put together in a neat little synopsis, in a court of law, with friends, neighbors, enemies and god knows who else was a different matter entirely. If he didn't know it before, he knew it now: he was in big trouble.

Mark Connelly watched as Bobby's head bowed, ever so slightly, listening to the prosecutor's words. And he knew they were going to nail Bobby's ass to the wall.

tbc