A/N: This story has snapped me out of my writing funk. I reworked chapter 1 to add some back story that would have came out later, but it felt more proper to include it in the first chapter. Feel free to read and review. If you think I'm doing horribly, I want to know. If you want to see something, let me know. Kurt expresses some unpleasant sentiments about the criminal justice system in this chapter, in a fairly blunt manner. If there are inaccuracies with the legal process as depicted, try to bear with me. I'm certainly more than happy to attempt to correct those. It is what it is. There's more of the bigotry that graced the second chapter. I don't condone it. Also, creepy quasi/actual sexual harassment.

I don't own Glee. If I did, Steve Carell and Amy Ryan would coach it as Michael Scott and Holly Flax. I think they'd probably do a better job of it than Will Schuester. Speaking of, my Season 7 DVDs of the Office arrived today, so I may not get a whole lot of writing done this week. For that matter, the week after, Season 3 of Glee starts and I'll be too busy crying over Chord Overstreet as Sam Evans being gone.

Mens Rea

Chapter 3: Took me by Surprise

FinnPOV

"Your defense attorney." Dave smiled brightly at me as he sunk the barb in.

I looked back at the guy who was going to be representing me. A momentary flash of anger in his eyes indicated that he had picked up on our exchange. A momentary flash of anger indicated that he had gotten over it a long time ago.

Alright. Time to back pedal. Turn on the charm. He stood over me, and I looked up at him.

"Move over."

Not exactly what I was expecting to hear. "Hmm?"

"That seat's for me. I get to leave the courthouse when we're done here, you get to go back to jail."

Not what I wanted to hear. "Listen. . . man, I'm sorry. . ."

"Yes, you're sorry that I heard. More specifically, you're sorry that I heard, and I'm in a position where I can do something about it."

Pretty much. "Russell didn't hire you did he?"

"No. You didn't have a lawyer, and this is a capital case, so I'm here."

"Capital case?"

"Means the death penalty."

"What?"

"Oh, but don't worry. You're white, relatively young, and come from a decent background. Now, if you were black, or Hispanic, especially if you didn't speak English too good, you'd be much more likely to get the death penalty."

"You don't actually believe that do you?"

"I do."

"That's just. . . not fair."

We were interrupted by a guy in uniform announcing that court was in session.

"All rise, for the honorable Judge Jones."

As my attorney rose, he hissed in my ear, "That means you."

No shit. I was in the process, but my bad knee was aching something fierce. I decided to keep my head down and not respond to him, as I stood at attention, bracing my weight against the table in hopes that I could keep standing long enough. I was clearheaded, because I hadn't had anything to drink, which meant that the pain wasn't behind a haze, it was up in my face.

Judge Jones was a black woman, mid 40's, friendly face with hair starting to go gracefully grey. She smiled at my attorney before saying, "Please be seated." That was a good thing. . . I hoped.

Her voice resounded quite strongly in the room. "Today we are here in the matter of the People vs. Finn Hudson. The charge is Murder in the first degree. Does the defendant wish to enter a plea at this time?"

"Not Guilty, your honor." I said, speaking up before my attorney could say something stupid, like pleading guilty.

"The defendant enters a plea of not guilty." Judge Jones intoned. "Now onto the matter of bail. Does the prosecutor have a recommendation?"

Dave stood up. "Given Mr. Hudson's standing in the community and lack of a prior record, I recommend bail to be set at $250,000."

Judge Jones had a puzzled expression on her face. "Mr. Karofsky, this is a capital case. It's highly irregular to even issue a bond."

I guess it's not what you know, but who you know after all. Karofsky responded, "I'm aware that the circumstances are unusual. I think that it's best that Mr. Hudson be released on bond so as to assist in his defense."

"I see what he's doing." My attorney said to himself in a quiet whisper.

The judge looked over at us. "Mr. Hummel, do you have any objections?" So that was his name.

"No, your honor, we don't."

"Then it is so ordered. If you are released on bail, Mr. Hudson, you will be required to surrender your passport to the court and not leave the state."

I was dreading the phone call to my wife. Well. . .I could just have my defender make the call. I'd use my phone call to try Russell. . . again. "I accept, your honor."

"Alright. Until such time as bail can be produced on your behalf, you will be remanded to the Douglas County Correctional Facility. The trial will start on April the 9th. You're dismissed."

Turn on the charm. "Um. . . Mr. Hummel?"

"Yes?"

"I only get one call per day there, and I think it best that I call my father in law. He's the campaign chair for my candidacy, and he would be able to bail me out. Do you think you could call my wife, Quinn?"

He sighed. "Well, I can see why, given the circumstances, that you wouldn't want to call your wife. Write down her number, and I'll call her once I get back to my office."

I wrote the number down on his legal pad, which had a doodle of a figure labeled Karofsky in a guillotine with the caption of "Vive la Republique".

I went with the guards and they took me to the waiting vehicle to drive me back to my cell.

When I got back, I requested my phone call. I used it to call Russ, at work. He picked up on the fourth ring.

"Russell. This is Finn."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry I didn't answer you over the weekend. I was busy calling every good defense attorney in Omaha. Between those two fags, they've got people running scared. That and the ACLU would probably be screaming bloody murder."

"Anyway, my public defender got bail for me."

"No he didn't. Your public defender didn't do shit. I also called Karofsky. How much?"

"$250,000."

"That'll piss Leroy Berry off. Well, if we can get you out with 10% cash, that wouldn't be bad. Called my daughter yet?"

"No."

"Man up and deal with her. I'll see what I can do about getting the cash. Probably take it out of the senate account."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking."

"Yeah. Probably going to have to figure out what to do with the campaign. But we can talk about that later. I've got to get going. Meetings, you know."

The phone clicked, signaling that the call was over. "Goodbye." I said into the receiver.

KurtPOV

The courtroom cleared quickly, reporters going outside to wait and try to bombard us with questions. I put my legal pad with my artwork into my satchel. Karofsky wanted to throw me off my game, which was why he was giving Hudson the chance to work closely with me on his defense.

Naturally Karofsky timed things so that we would be walking out together. A hand landed on my shoulder, and hot breath fanned into my ear. "I'm looking forward to spending the next few weeks with you, Kurt."

"I'm looking forward to getting my teeth drilled Dave." I chimed out.

"It's not your teeth I was thinking about drilling Kurt."

"No, I leave that to my dentist."

"Oh the possibilities that raises."

"Ok. Karofsky. You're not my type. You're the wrong party, you're a decade older than I am, and your pick up lines are frightening at best. Not only that, it would be a breach of legal ethics to sleep with the district attorney. Keep it up, and you'll find yourself in Jacob Ben Israel's column."

His demeanor changed on a dime. He was all smiles now. "Alright. Feel free to send any requests for information to my office. Let's go face our adoring public."

We walked to the door. He held it open, gentleman that he was, and we walked out into a small scrum of press.

"Mr. Hummel, Mr. Karofsky, any statements!" Jacob Ben Israel's nasal voice piercing the din as usual.

I stepped forward, digging my elbow into Dave's side in the process. He groaned heavily. I hoped it was pain. "The only statement I'll be making is that I will defend my client to the best of my ability. Mr. Hudson and I look forward to our day in court. Thank you members of the press."

I walked out, feeling the blast of the cold February air hit me full force. Our offices were a block away, so I walked up Farnam Street. A woman, fadingly pretty followed, cigarette smoke trailing in the air.

She caught up to me. "If you're from one of the alternative weeklies, they know that it's my policy not to give interviews."

She pitched the cigarette, a small hissing noise emerging as it hit some melted snow. "Hardly. Quinn Fabray-Hudson." She held out her hand, which I shook.

"Ah. You know those things will give you lung cancer."

"I own stock in Altria."

"Me too. I'm sure you didn't come down to your husband's hearing to discuss stock tips with me."

"Not at all, Mr. Hummel. It's 10 degrees outside though, perhaps we should take our business inside."

I held the door open, letting her through. "By all means."

We went upstairs to the suite of offices that the public defenders office had on the second floor. I took her coat and put it on the rack. "Want some coffee?"

"Please. Black, one sugar."

I went out, got two mismatched mugs from the break area and poured it out. I doctored mine heavily with cream and sugar, and went back to my office.

I handed Quinn her cup. "I'm glad you came in. It saves me a phone call."

She took a sip of her coffee, setting the cup down. "Was there anything else outside of Ben Israel's 5 page spread in the Sunday edition?"

His spread was biographical information, for the most part. Along with some details gleaned from the Police Department spokesperson about the nature of the crime. Nothing specific, as of yet, because there wasn't much to report. "Not really."

Time to start digging. "He's in pain isn't he? He could barely stand today in the courtroom."

"War injury, coupled with a lousy orthopedic surgeon at Walter Reed."

"I'm sorry to hear that. My father had to deal with knee pain from an injury back in his college days until last year. A friend of mine operated on him. We ran a half marathon a few months ago, so it went rather well. Obviously, each case is different. I could recommend a consult?"

"Sure. He's afraid of doctors though."

"Understandable. He's medicating himself with liquor and pills from the available evidence. That only works up to a point, and frankly, I'm going to need all the help I can get with this case. Which means a clear mind on his part. So he'll have to deal with it."

"What's the doctor's name?"

"Artie Abrams. He's down at Creighton Medical Center."

She sighed. "I suppose Dr. Abrams can't perform surgery in jail can he?"

"I doubt it. And, I think it would be for the best that he assist with the defense. He seems bent on mounting one, and if we retrace the events of the evening, he might be able to recall something. I honestly don't know how effective that will be, given the self medication issue, but. . ."

"It's better than nothing, yeah?"

"That's pretty much it, Mrs. Hudson. We have nothing to go on. The circumstantial evidence is overpowering, and he's placed at the scene by a police officer. The odds don't look good."

She nodded her head. "His strategy is fairly obvious. Play the drunk off his ass angle to the jury, he blacked out and killed her in a drunken rage. It's what anyone with half a brain would do."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Alright. You're probably wondering why I'm still married to him."

I took a drink of my coffee. "The question had occurred to me. You seem like a fairly smart woman with a good head on her shoulders."

"I love him. Not the person he is, but the person he was. The guy who would try to cook your favorite meal only to start a fire in the kitchen. The world's worst dancer. He's many things, to many people. A good many of those qualities are awful. I can't imagine what it's like for you, having to defend him. He's not a killer though."

She was in love with him. I got out my card and wrote Artie's number on the back of it. "Alright. Here's my card if you have any questions. Dr. Abrams' number is on the back, tell him that Kurt recommended a consult and he'll fit you in."

She took the card. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel. I have to go down to the bank and see what we have available as far as assets are concerned. A debate coach and a radio personality don't exactly make the most money on the planet, unfortunately."

Quinn made her way out of the office. I looked over the information we had in the file. There wasn't much to do as far as investigative work was concerned.

I picked up the phone and dialed the central police headquarters. "Central police station, this is Terri, how can I direct your call?"

"Terri, this is Kurt Hummel with the public defenders office. Officer Sam Evans was the arresting officer on the Hudson case, and I needed to speak with him about the events of last Saturday morning. Is he available."

"I think he works nights this week. I could transfer you to the voicemail that he has though?"

"That'd be great, thanks Terri."

The line clicked over and dialed the voicemail box. A friendly voice rang out. "Hello, this is Officer Sam Evans. I'm not here right now, please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Have a great day." The answering machine beeped over.

"Officer Evans, this is Kurt Hummel. I'm the Public Defender that has been assigned to the Hudson case which you were the arresting officer on. I was wondering if we could go over the details of the report at a time of your choosing. Maybe over lunch this week?"