Clay
Juice carried two boxes into the room.
He sat them down.
"This is the last set of boxes. I'll get more and finish up tonight. Move everything into storage next week."
"Thanks, Juicy."
"No problem, man."
"I know it was you... Found that legal shit in the vent."
Juice turned to face me.
He put the boxes down.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"Eh... I figured it had to be Jax leveraging the RICO threat. You had no choice."
Juice nodded his head.
"We always have a choice."
I looked away.
"I'm sorry."
"It didn't end up mattering anyway. Just let it go."
I put my hand on the side of his neck.
"I love you, brother. I'm gonna miss you most."
We hugged.
"Oh, Christ. Clay..."
Juice broke the hug.
"You got to go. You got to leave now. You got to get out of here. You got to split. Take my bike."
"What are you talking about, son?"
There was a knock on the door.
Gemma opened the front door.
It was Roosevelt and another Cop.
"You're leaving town?" He questioned.
The other Cop shut the door.
"What is this?"
Roosevelt held up an evidence bag with a gun in it.
"This weapon is registered in your name. It was just used in the murder of Damon Pope and three of his associates." He laid out the facts.
I looked over at Juice.
"Can you tell me where you've been this afternoon?"
I put a hand to my forehead.
I put it down.
"Right here."
"Can anyone confirm that?" Roosevelt questioned.
"My Wife."
I looked over at her.
"Tell him, Gem."
"He's been here all afternoon."
"Then we will start with all the people who had access to Clay's gun."
"Mm."
"Starting with your son."
"Why do you automatically assume it's Jax?"
"Because he's out to get his step-father."
"Well, I certainly didn't give it to my son. And I didn't let him in here."
"You're gonna tell me your son doesn't know how to pick a lock? As the President of SAMCRO?"
"Yeah. Jackson can't pick a lock. He's tried before and failed."
"Well, I will still be talking to him."
Juice was on his phone.
"You better not be communicating with Teller."
"Never."
He smirked, walking away.
I laughed.