A DIFFERENT DILEMMA
Spoiler: All for our Country (Fromanski's threats, and Gil's use of a gun) Chaos Theory (a butterfly bats its wings…)
This is more of a Gil story, though the ending will be a happy GG.
A DIFFERENT DILEMMA
Part two
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TWELVE HOURS LATER
"Are you ok?"
I glanced at Brass.
He hadn't spoken a word since he'd offered to give me a lift. At first, I thought he was simply giving me some space; then I wondered whether he was simply following protocol. After all, Internal Affairs was already on the case; the least Brass and me talked, the better it would be for him –and maybe for me, too.
Whatever his reasons, I appreciated the silence.
But now that we were finally in front of the Police Department, he'd turned and spoken to me, in a tone that was both compassionate and probing. He probably wanted to know if I'd be able to keep it together for the next few hours.
"I'm fine." I muttered.
"It'll be over before you know it." He said gently. "They only -"
But I didn't want to talk. I got out of the car and started towards the building. Whatever it was going to happen, I wanted it to be over with.
When I stepped into the lobby, every cop in there turned and looked in my direction. Conversations ceased, and suddenly, the only sounds around me came from unanswered phones and unattended fax machines.
It wasn't the first time something like this happened; I'd been at odds with the PD now and then, especially after the misunderstanding with officer Fromanski. This time, however, they weren't looking at me with veiled dislike or outright contempt.
This time they all moved as one and broke into applause.
And this was worse than being the subject of their disdain.
It was fortunate that Brass had finally caught on with me, because otherwise I may have stood there without knowing where to turn to.
"Come on," Brass said, steering me towards one of the elevators.
Once the doors closed behind us, I leant against the wall and took a deep breath.
I glanced at Brass.
"Why did they do that?" I asked.
"They're grateful." Brass said.
I shook my head.
"Gil." He said. "You saved a life, today. That's the important thing here."
If only it were so simple.
"I'm serious," he said. The doors of the elevator opened, but before we stepped into the hallway, Brass turned to me and said, "It's the one thing you've got remember, no matter what happens in there."
And he tilted his head towards the door at the end of the hall.
The office of the Internal Affairs Detective that I was to meet.
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Internal Affairs Detective Don Morrison was there to meet us, and after making it clear that Brass' presence was not necessary, he led me to an interrogation room.
James Hall, another I.A. Detective, was already there, fiddling with the recorder he'd set on the table in the middle of the room.
"Take a seat, Dr. Grissom." Morrison said, motioning me towards the one chair that faced the one-way mirror.
I involuntarily glanced at the mirror, wondering if there was anyone on the other side, witnessing this moment. But seeing my own reflection threw me off for a minute. I didn't want to be looking at myself.
I studiously glanced away.
Morrison and Hall seemed to be taking too long to start the interrogation, and this only made me conscious of my surroundings.
I'd been in dozens of interrogation rooms like this as part of my job, but I'd never realized how glaring the light was, for instance. Or how hopeless it felt, to be sitting there, waiting for the interrogation to begin.
For half my life I'd sat on the side of the law, listening to people tell their stories. Some of them were telling the truth, and yet how many times did I remain skeptical until the evidence cleared them? For the first time, I'd know what if felt like, to be viewed under suspicion.
Hall finally finished with the recorder. He and Morrison took the seats opposite mine, and Morrison started the recording, stating our names and ranks, the date and the exact hour.
Morrison looked up at me.
"Dr. Grissom," he said solemnly, "We are here to establish the facts concerning -"
But the door opened, effectively interrupting Morrison's opening line. Ecklie stood there.
Impatiently, Morrison stopped the recorder.
"Ever heard of knocking, Ecklie?"
"Detective Morrison," Ecklie greeted amiably, "Detective Hall." He added. He closed the door behind him and then he came over to stand beside me, "You were not going to start this interview without a CSI representative, were you?"
"This is a friendly conversation, Conrad."
"Good," he said pulling a chair and setting it next to me, "I'm glad I came, then." He sat and then he leant towards me, "I've just been to the hospital." He said, "The guys are doing fine."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak at that point.
Conrad looked up at the detectives.
"So," he said, "Where were we?"
"We were about to start," Morrison said. He spoke into the recorder, to indicate that the Assistant Director had joined us. "We are here to establish the facts concerning the shooting of an unidentified man -"
Morrison stated the facts as he knew them: An unidentified man had entered a secured crime scene where three CSI's were conducting an investigation. The man had threatened two of the CSIs, and a few minutes later, he was shot and killed.
By me.
Morrison looked at me again.
"Dr. Grissom." He said cordially, "Would you please tell us what happened."
I cleared my throat.
"The man was pointing the gun at -"
"Please, start at the beginning, sir." Hall intervened.
I hesitated. I truly didn't know what to say.
"Dr. Grissom?"
Ecklie came to the rescue.
"Maybe you should start by telling us about the call."
Morrison stopped the recording.
"Conrad," He said in a warning tone.
Ecklie backed down.
Hall restarted the recording.
"Dr. Grissom, please tell us everything from the start."
"We got a call -" I started.
"Is that the beginning?" Hall said skeptically.
This time, it was Ecklie who stopped the recording.
"Give him a break," Ecklie said, "You want a description of what happened and you'll have it. Just don't use the bad cop/scumbag routine with him, al right?"
They haggled over the way the interrogation was being conducted but I didn't listen. I was thinking of Det. Hall's words, and how he might be right. Maybe my story didn't start with the call.
A series of events had culminated in a death just a few hours before, and I really didn't know where to pinpoint the beginning.
Maybe it started when I took over last night's shift as a favor to Catherine, who wanted to stay home with her daughter; or maybe it started when I agreed to bring Greg along on an investigation, even though it was his night off -
But I stopped that line of thought; assigning Greg to the case was simply one in a string of mistakes that I'd made in connection with him: The first one was to start a relationship with him, and the other was to break it up.
I regretted those mistakes, but I refused to believe that something that had made me happy for a little while could have led us to this mess.
It was easier to hold on to the belief that somewhere along the way a butterfly had batted its wings, setting a chain reaction that had ended up changing our lives irrevocably.
Morrison restarted the recording and looked up to me.
"Dr. Grissom?"
"We got a call at about eleven-thirty," I said, more assuredly this time. "A robbery."
I proceeded to tell them the facts: A house at a secluded part of town had been burglarized. The owners had returned from a party to find the doors open and several art pieces missing. They didn't investigate further; they were afraid of what they might find –a murdered maid, for instance.
By the time CSI was called, it was established that the maid was nowhere inside the house, and that she might be an accomplice.
When Warrick, Greg, and me arrived, there was only a police officer keeping guard outside.
We entered the house. Warrick took over the dining room while Greg took care of the study. I took a look at the rooms upstairs. When I didn't see any evidence of the burglars' presence there, I went downstairs and started working on the hallway.
At some point during the investigation, I realized that I didn't have enough fluorescent powder-
"Why was that?" Morrison interrupted.
"I rarely use fluorescent powder," I said, "But due to the type of surface I was working on, I decided that fluorescent powder might work better than black; I didn't have enough -"
"CSI's are supposed to keep their kits well-stocked, aren't they?"
"Yes." I admitted.
"So, why didn't you -"
"CSI's run out of supplies," Ecklie interrupted in a slightly patronizing tone, "It's no big deal. That's why they keep extra supplies in the car."
Morrison shot Ecklie a look but didn't say anything.
He was right; I should have had enough powder in my kit. But lately I'd been… distracted, so to speak.
"I went to my car to restock." I continued, "I was about to go back to the house, when I realized that I hadn't seen the police officer."
I wasn't alarmed at the time; the cop could be somewhere close, simply taking a leak (it was not unheard of); but I thought I'd make sure.
I found him behind some bushes. His head had been bashed in and he was barely breathing. I immediately called Brass.
Morrison interrupted my account.
"Why didn't you call Police Dispatch?"
"I thought I'd get help faster by calling Jim Brass." I said.
Calling Brass had been the natural thing for me to do; after Fromanski's veiled threats, I didn't trust police to answer a request from me. But I didn't tell Morrison this.
"Detective Brass warned me about the possibility that the perp might still be in the vicinity; maybe even inside the house."
After I hung up, I mechanically reached for my gun and went back to the house. Only, instead of going in, I walked around the perimeter, glancing into each window.
"When I looked into the dining room, I saw CSI Brown pointing his gun at someone. And unidentified man -"
I faltered a little when I got to this point or my narrative, but I forced myself to go ahead. As long as I simply stated the facts, I'd be able to tell the rest.
"The man had grabbed CSI Greg Sanders from behind," I said, "He had a hold on Greg's neck, and was using him as a shield. He, ah, had a gun in his other hand. He was pointing it at Greg's temple."
I paused as I remembered the scene. The man was only slightly taller than Greg but was heavily muscled and looked huge in comparison. Greg was desperately clawing at the arm around his neck but could do very little harm since the man was wearing a coarse leather jacket.
I took a deep breath and continued.
"I think CSI Brown was pleading with the man to let Greg go -"
"Dr. Grissom, if you please," Hall intervened, "Tell us only what you did."
I hesitated.
The truth was, I didn't remember much of what I did after I saw the perp manhandling Greg. From the moment I saw them, rage fueled my every movement. I didn't remember anything clearly until the moment when I pointed my gun at the man and fired.
All I could do was tell them what could be backed up by the evidence: That I'd silently entered the house, crossed the hallway and reached the dining room, where I clearly heard the man threatening to shoot Greg unless Warrick threw his gun and moved out of the way.
"CSI Brown put his gun down, but he was still blocking the man's getaway. The man then pointed the gun at Warrick, but Greg managed to grab at the man's arm, and the bullet hit a wall," I gulped, "That's when I fired my gun."
Hall handed me a sheet of paper.
"Could you tell us where you were standing when you shot this man?"
I looked down at the diagram. I recognized Warrick's handwriting. He'd done a preliminary sketch of the dining room and pinpointed the places where he and Greg had stood. He'd also marked the kitchen door, which was the route the perp had chosen for his escape.
I unhesitatingly pointed at the spot where I had stood watching the scene unfold.
Hall took the paper back and studied it.
"Did you issue a warning before you shot this man?" Morrison asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Did you ask him to surrender his weapon?"
The idea hadn't occurred to me. I saw the man threatening to kill my guys -I wasn't about to ask him to surrender.
I shook my head.
"I didn't," I said. "I didn't think he would have listened at that point."
Ecklie didn't move, but I felt the tension rising from him. It was the wrong answer.
"I have a problem with your story, Dr. Grissom." Hall said, "Do you expect us to believe that you got a clean shot from that distance? At the man's temple?" he paused, "You were on the other side of the room."
I looked down at the diagram. I was telling the truth but it was obvious that Hall didn't believe me.
"Did you shoot him while he was on his own, ready to surrender?"
Hall's question was so ludicrous I didn't even feel indignant at the suggestion he was making. I met his gaze unwaveringly.
"No." I said.
Morrison intervened then.
"What did you do after you shot this man?"
"I surrendered my gun to CSI Brown." I replied, "As CSI in charge, he instructed me to leave the scene and wait for the police. I waited outside."
It wasn't the complete truth, of course, and I could only hope they wouldn't ask if I had said anything to Greg.
And they didn't. After a brief pause, Morrison asked the next question.
"Why did you take CSI Sanders with you? He was off duty last night."
I hesitated.
"Well?"
"He'd never investigated a robbery of this magnitude." I said. "I thought the experience would be beneficial."
This was an outright lie, but they didn't seem to notice.
"He must have been exhausted after working a fifteen-hour shift, Dr. Grissom." Morrison continued, "How efficient could he be under those circumstances?"
"I was confident that he'd do a good job," I replied.
"Yet he was so tired that he didn't notice that a stranger was in the vicinity." Morrison replied.
Ecklie snorted.
"You're blaming Sanders for being assaulted?"
Morrison ignored the interruption.
"Would you say that making him come along was the right decision, Dr. Grissom?"
"Morrison," Ecklie said, "I am sure that on hindsight we all regret some of the decisions we make. Dr. Grissom made a sound decision at the time."
But Morrison was right. I'd made the wrong decision. I'd brought Greg into the case just because he'd asked me to. And because I'd been feeling lonely.
But I didn't have time to dwell on this; Hall spoke again.
"You're a scientist, Dr. Grissom," he said, "You're not a cop."
"Is there a question, there?" Ecklie asked morosely.
"I have a point to make," Hall replied evenly, "Dr. Grissom, even an experienced cop would have hesitated before shooting someone from this distance."
I glanced at the diagram again.
Hall leant forward.
"Did you shoot him while he was already down -"
"I told you what I did." I replied calmly.
"That can be easily verified, Detective," Ecklie said, "The point of entry will show you whether the deceased was down or not. Besides, Sanders had high-velocity spatter on his neck and head: blood and brain material that obviously came from the perp's. Sanders was obviously standing close to the suspect."
Hall was looking at me.
"You didn't hesitate to shoot, even though CSI Sanders was standing just a few inches away?"
I took a deep breath. I'd been trying to put those images out of my head. Now I was being forced to remember the shooting, and how the perp fell, taking Greg down with him, making it unclear whether I'd hit him or Greg. And Greg's head was covered in blood -
I felt a wave of nausea, but I forced myself to hold it back. I was not going to break down there-
"Isn't it true that you could have missed?" Hall added.
"That's enough," Conrad said, and once again the three of them argued over the way they were handling the interrogation.
I could have missed. God, I could have. I just didn't think of that possibility at the time. I didn't think, that was all.
In other circumstances, I would have probably warned the perp and tried to reason with him. I would have pointed my gun at a less vulnerable part of his body, too. Or I would have waited to see if Greg and Warrick could subdue the man.
Instead, I'd simply pointed my gun and fired.
But that wasn't the point of Hall's question.
I could have missed. I could have killed someone else.
I could have killed-
But I didn't want to think of it. I bit into my cheek until it bled, and the pain distracted me. I gulped down a little blood. After a moment, I put an end to their discussion.
"Yes." I conceded. "I could have missed."
Conrad put a hand on my arm.
"That's enough." he muttered. He turned to the detectives, "Gentlemen," he said, "I think we're through. If you want to talk about what could have happened, then let me remind you that two CSI's could have died today. And a police officer, too." he added for effect.
"Ecklie-"
"You have Dr. Grissom's statement," Ecklie said, "The evidence will bear him out. And if it doesn't, we'll convene here again. Until then… Is there anything else we can do for you?"
His tone was plain enough; as far as he was concerned, there was nothing more to discuss.
But Morrison insisted on having the last word.
"We will be in touch," He said. "Until we clear this matter, you are not to have any contact with the CSIs involved in this case, Dr. Grissom. We would also appreciate it if you'd stay away from the CSI lab, too."
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Ecklie was waiting for me in the hallway.
I reluctantly joined him. I didn't want to be grateful -I didn't want to feel that I owed him anything. But he didn't even let me speak.
"Dr. Pierce is waiting for you," he said. The PD shrink. "She came over as soon as she heard. She's waiting in your office," he added, and I had the feeling that they had planned it this way, to stop me from finding some excuse not to go to her office.
"I'll tell Catherine to take over you pending cases." Ecklie said, "Talk to her and then go home. IA will clear you in a couple of days, but until then you're not to come near the building."
We took the elevator reserved for the top brass. I was glad; this way we wouldn't have to make a stop at the PD lobby.
"I'll keep an eye on Sanders." Ecklie said. "He'll have some difficulty talking for the next few days -"
I knew; there was a moment when I thought the man would crush Greg's throat.
"He will be sporting some large bruises, too -" Ecklie added, "But I think he will be fine."
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He got out.
"We'll be in touch." he said.
I paused for a second.
"Thank you." I said.
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TBC