CHAPTER 3
MEDIA CIRCUS
The next morning's Gotham Globe carried a headline saying "Wayne Ward Arrested for Drug Dealing!" while the Gazette's said "Prominent Gotham Family's Shame". The local television morning show on WGCK covered the story with a long discussion of teen crime. Bruce read the paper in cold silence over the breakfast table as Dick tried to choke down his cereal. He didn't regret what he'd had to do, but the consequences were getting tough. Alfred looked sad as he poured Dick another glass of juice; clearly he'd been filled in by Bruce.
Bruce got up from the table and shot Dick an icy glance. Dick tried once more. "Bruce, the only reason I..." He stopped when Bruce raised a hand.
"I know why you did it. You explained it to me in...smug...detail last night. As I said then, you are grounded. Neither Dick Grayson, nor Robin will be seen outside these walls unless Grayson is attending school. I sincerely hope that Rae will be able to fix this mess you've gotten yourself into and that a criminal record doesn't wreck your college chances." Smacking the newspaper back onto the dining room table...hard...Bruce stomped out to work.
Dick noticed the camera trucks parked outside the gates of Wayne Manor as Alfred drove him to school. Fortunately, the rear windows of the limousine were tinted and the cameras couldn't see him. Of course, the cameramen still tried, running after the car as the gates swung open.
It was even worse when they arrived at Gotham Academy. The cameras were waiting for them. Alfred escorted Dick into the school through a hundred bright flashbulbs into the secured entryway. Even though he'd set this up, Dick was grateful that the school, which catered to the families of the rich, had security that could turn away the reporters.
"Now, Master Dick," Alfred said, glancing at the mob of reporters he could see through the clear glass doors. "I will return to pick you up promptly at three." He paused and searched Dick's face with his eyes. "You...er...will be here, won't you?"
Dick blushed and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be here Alfie. I'm not planning on doing a cut and run."
"Very well," Alfred said. "I will see you this afternoon, then."
Life at Wayne Manor was tense for the weeks following. Bruce's friend, Clark Kent, telephoned when he saw the reports on the newswires.
"Bruce, I heard about Dick," Clark said, holding the printout in his hand. "There has to be some mistake. Do you want me to write a rebuttal?"
"There's no mistake," Bruce's voice held controlled rage. "Dick wanted to investigate an out of state school for wayward youth and I forbade it. So, he decided to make sure he was sent there by the Court."
Clark paused to push his glasses back up onto his face. "He really had sixteen packets of meth in his pockets? Where did he get it from?"
Bruce closed his eyes against the pounding headache he'd had ever since the initial phone call had come in. "From the police evidence room. He broke in and, he says, he made sure that the security cams got his face. It's going to take some fancy lawyering to get him off these charges."
Clark gave a low whistle. "That's serious, even if he is a juvenile. Why can't he do the investigation, Bruce? He's been working solo on occasion since he was eleven. He's qualified."
"No," Bruce said firmly. "The school has a bad rep about the way they treat their kids; an unacceptable level of violence that Dick won't be able to defend himself from. And I'm concerned about what happens to the disappeared students?"
Clark frowned heavily. "They kill them?"
Bruce paused, tapping his fingers on the desk. "I don't think so. No, not immediately, anyway. Something worse. Clark, Dick matches the victim profile, almost exactly. And dammit, Dick knows it. That's why he told me that he was the most qualified to investigate this. And why I absolutely will not allow him to go."
"I see," Clark answered. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"The best thing you can do is try to tone down the news stories if you can. Dick also called in a tip to the Gotham Enquirer about his drug bust, trying to make sure I couldn't hush it up. I don't think he realized quite how big the feeding frenzy would get." Bruce toyed with today's newspaper, glanced at the headline: "Dick Grayson a meth-head?" and flipped it over.
"I'll do my best, but I don't have any control over the papers not owned by the Daily Planet syndicate," Clark promised.
"Anything you can do would be a help. Thanks, Clark," Bruce said and hung up the phone.
Alfred, updated by Bruce, unwillingly became Dick's guardian during any hours that the boy wasn't at school.
"I do not enjoy playing policeman, Master Dick," the butler commented as the two cleaned silver in the pantry of Wayne Manor. "But Master Bruce explained what you did and why. I must agree with him that your undercover proposal strikes me as abnormally dangerous." Alfred finished shining a ladle and replaced it in its case.
Dick glared at the silver teaspoons he was shining and polished them even harder. "Bruce doesn't understand that this is something I have to do. Nobody is taking this seriously, just because the victims are so-called juvenile delinquents. Half of them, their families don't even want them back! But Rufus is was...is...my friend. And I don't leave my friends hanging."
"Easy, Lad," Alfred said, quirking an eyebrow. "Polish any harder and you'll take the monogramming off. I know that you are upset, but you must acknowledge that Master Bruce has your welfare in mind."
"Yeah, well, Bruce can be a mother-hen sometimes," Dick muttered. "He'll have Rae Green get me probation, so I'm back where I started." He looked thoughtful, as though mulling over an idea.
"What was that you were saying?" Alfred asked, starting on the terrapin forks.
"Nothing," Dick said. "Nothing at all."
For the weeks following, the Wayne silver had never shone so brightly. Additionally, Dick had been introduced by Alfred into the intricacies of laundry as well as basic cookery. Alfred reasoned that, if the devil finds work for idle hands, Dick would never have an idle moment.
Even so, Dick had to admit that the cooking lessons, at least, would come in handy when he eventually moved out. Alfred had already told him about Bruce's sorry attempts at cooking in the past.
"Master Bruce is a very intelligent man, able to do almost anything when he applies himself," Alfred had said while teaching Dick to make an omelet. "However, cooking will never be his strong suit." The butler's eyes strayed to the large fire extinguisher that hung on the kitchen wall.
The week before Dick's trial was set, Bruce drove him to Rachel Green's office to prepare. Dick found himself tugging uncomfortably at the tie Bruce had insisted he wear along with his blue suit.
"You will cooperate with Rae's defense of you," Bruce said grimly, steering the Jaguar through Gotham's streets somewhat faster than he usually did.
"What do you care?" Dick muttered. "You're just worried that I'm tarnishing the Wayne name or something."
"Do you think I want you sentenced to Juvenile Hall or the Boy's Ranch? Your position as a Wayne has nothing to do with it, Dick," Bruce looked dead ahead. "And you can't sulk me into letting you take that case, either!"
"Sulk? Is that what you think I've been doing?" Dick was outraged. "I'm just trying to get you to take me seriously. I feel just as strongly about this investigation as you do any of yours. The fact that the victims are kids like me shouldn't be relevant!"
Bruce spared him a glance. "The fact that the victims are kids like you makes it relevant, extremely so. Each one of the missing boys could be your brother...or you..." Bruce's voice trailed off and he focused intensely on the road.
Dick leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, now we come to the point. Yes, it will be dangerous. But I've been in danger before, Bruce. Yes, you won't be there to protect me, but I've faced death all alone before. I'm trained. I'm ready!"
"Whoever it is may be gunning for you! Hasn't that occurred to you?" Bruce demanded. "He's been getting by with copies so far, but you're giving him the real thing!"
"We don't know that," Dick said, looking at Bruce. "Besides, Hamilton School is in Nevada, not Gotham. The bad guys have probably never seen my face. Maybe I look like somebody's lost son, or favorite school bully. The point is, until we gather information, we won't know what's going on."
Bruce clenched his teeth hard. "The answer is still 'no'."
They arrived at Rae's office and Bruce escorted Dick in. Rae greeted both cordially, then sat Dick down in a chair. "Tell me what happened?" she said.
Dick looked nervously at Bruce. "I...um...broke into the Gotham Police Department evidence locker and stole 16 baggies of meth. When I was at a friend's birthday party, the police came and found 'em in my jacket."
"I understand that the police security cameras got you on tape," Green said calmly. "And that you confessed everything to the police," she paused and looked at Dick. "Do you know what Miranda rights are?"
Dick nodded. "Yeah, they can't question you without a lawyer."
"Not exactly. The police have to warn you that if you make any statements, they can be used against you and that you have the right to a lawyer if you want one. Did they give you the warning?"
"No, they didn't. The cop just came up to me with my jacket and asked me if the baggies were mine and I said 'yes'. I told him everything," Dick replied.
"Did you feel that you had to answer his questions?" Rae asked.
"Well, yeah. I mean, he pulled me into the a corner of the living room and started asking me questions. And he had my jacket with my cell phone. I wasn't going anywhere," Dick said.
Bruce, more up on the Miranda rules than Dick evidently was, breathed a sigh of relief. The boy had put himself into the cage but hadn't managed to lock the door yet.
Rae was looking happier as well. "This is something we can use, Bruce, to get Dick's confession thrown out. Unfortunately, Dick wore the jacket to Juvenile Hall, so he can still be connected to it, but it's helpful. I'm going to have a talk with the D.A. and see what kind of a deal we can make. If necessary, would Dick accept a plea of 'no contest' with community service?"
"Hey! N..." Dick started to say when Bruce interrupted him.
"Yes. Yes, he would," Bruce said firmly, glaring Dick into silence.
Rae looked from one to the other and finally shrugged. "All right, I'll see what I can do."