Sheffield nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Eckert. I have no further questions."

Judge Andrews thanked her and announced, "Court will adjourn for lunch and reconvene at 1:00."

"What do you think, man?"

"About what?" Tom responded with a mouthful of french fries. He looked across the table at Doug who had talked him into getting out of the courthouse for lunch. Tom's mother had elected to stay behind, buying a sandwich and reading a book at the small shop there. Tom knew it wasn't by accident…that his mother knew that as much as he loved and appreciated her, that he needed a break and a little time away from her.

"Duh," said Doug. "The trial, man! How do you think it's going?"

"Duh!" Tom shot right back. "It's going like shit, Doug, what do you think?"

"You think it's that bad?"

"Yeah…I do," said Tom before sucking on his straw, making a loud, slurping noise. "You heard that crap he was saying in there. They're gonna let him off on this."

"Nah, man, they won't," said Doug, shaking his head.

Tom just shrugged in response.

"What'll…I mean…if they do…what then?" Doug asked.

"I don't know," Tom responded simply. "It doesn't matter, I guess. I never really thought…the whole time I never thought…I just knew he'd get away with it."

"You're okay with that?"

"Of course not. I just accept it. Everything I have to deal with…this is just another part of it." Tom looked at Doug and said nothing more.

Doug contemplated his friend's words with a sadness he hadn't felt since the day he'd found his partner lying bleeding and broken in the park. The only thing since then that had kept him going and kept his spirits up was the thought of capturing Eckert and making him pay for what he'd done. He wasn't going to give up on that, even if Tom had. "Well…we'll see," was all he could come up with as a response.

"Yeah, we will," said Tom. "How's things at work?"

Doug rolled his eyes. "Nice transition."

Tom smiled. "I thought so."

"Well, gee, things are work are just great!" said Doug, feigning over-excitement before he got serious again. He looked down at the napkin he was twisting in his hands. "Things suck. I miss you."

Tom paused and then said, "Yeah…I know…I miss you too. I'm just ready, you know? I want to get back to work and start doing stuff again…normal stuff…put this behind me. He sighed and looked at his watch. They still had a few minutes, so he spoke again. "So…uh…" He looked down at his empty plate and picked up his fork, using it to stir the leftover ketchup, making swirl designs on the plate. "What's it gonna be like when I get there? What are people saying?" he asked quietly.

Doug looked up. "It'll be okay. Really. Everybody's been as pissed about all this as the rest of us. They want to see you back."

"Really? 'Cause I don't know if…I mean…it's gonna be hard enough, you know?" said Tom, continuing to stare at his plate. "If they think…or if someone says something…"

"They won't. Believe me. No one's going to make a big deal out of it or hassle you or anything. Really. I promise."

Tom nodded in response, not entirely convinced. He looked back up. "I guess we'd better be getting back."

"Mr. Eckert," said D.A. Scott Hayden, beginning his cross-examination of the defendant, "you and Officer Hanson each told very different accounts of what happened the night he was attacked. Your attorney, when cross-examining Officer Hanson, brought up several times that there was no evidence to support his claims. Are you aware of any evidence to support your claims?"

Lee Eckert leaned forward in the witness box, close to the microphone, and answered, "No, sir, I'm not."

"Then why should we believe your word over that of the victim?"

Eckert looked momentarily confused, then said, "Well, as I understand it, sir, I don't have to prove anything here. You do." There was no hint of the arrogance he had displayed when being interrogated after his arrest, and yet to those in the room who knew better, it was clearly there.

Hayden was caught off guard by the ex-con's answer but quickly recovered enough to counter with, "That's true, Mr. Eckert, so let me do just that. Are there any witnesses to this alleged relationship you say you had with Officer Hanson?"

"Mmmm…no, I guess not. He wanted to keep it secret. I didn't understand it then, but now that I know he's a cop and was on duty…now it makes sense. He probably could have gotten in a lot of trouble for that, right?"

Ignoring the implied question, Hayden asked, "What about after you got out of prison? That night…did anybody see the two of you talking on the street or going into your apartment?"

"Not that I know of," said Eckert.

"Really? That's odd, because I've been to your apartment, Mr. Eckert. There are a lot of people in that building, coming and going at all hours of the day and night. And you passed no one on your way in with Officer Hanson that night? No one who can verify that the two or you were really there?"

Eckert shrugged. "I don't remember seeing anyone."

Hayden nodded and began to pace back and forth. He hadn't wanted to cross-examine Eckert at all, but he knew if he didn't ask him anything the jury might see it as validation of his story. He couldn't ask any questions about Marvin Kern or Marty Walsh, the two thugs who had helped Eckert, because everything they admitted was now considered hearsay without their testimony. And even the things Eckert said as he was being arrested and interrogated wouldn't help. The son of a bitch had been extremely careful about not saying anything incriminating, and everything he did say was consistent with his testimony. Hayden stopped pacing and addressed the judge. "No further questions, Your Honor."

"Ms. Sheffield?" Judge Andrews said, looking at the defense attorney.

"I have no questions for redirect, Your Honor, and we are ready to rest our case," she answered.

"The witness may step down," directed the judge. "Is the defense prepared for closing arguments?"

"Yes, Your Honor, we're ready," Sheffield replied.

"And you, Mr. Hayden?"

"Yes, Your Honor," he answered.

"Court will adjourn then for thirty minutes for preparation."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Scott Hayden began, "I appreciate the time you've taken to sit through this trial and listen to all of the testimony and evidence. I know it's been difficult to hear some of these things, but I hope that you will devote the same time and attention to considering your verdict. You heard two very different versions of what happened that night, but one thing is clear and cannot be disputed. Officer Tom Hanson was viciously and brutally attacked in a cowardly act of senseless violence.

The defense would have you believe that this police officer was having some sort of an affair with a convicted murderer, went to his apartment to have sex, and then left in the middle of the night and just happened to be attacked by someone else. There is no evidence to support this claim. There is no reason to doubt the word of this young police officer. He has no reason to lie. The defense says that he made up the story of Lee Eckert raping and assaulting him in order to cover up a secret homosexual affair. I ask you, just when did he decide to 'make up' this story?" Hayden looked up and down the row of jurors as he paused for effect. "As he was being beaten severely enough to cause a concussion, fractured skull, bruised kidneys, broken ribs, broken nose, and a ruptured spleen? Or after that, while he was going in and out of consciousness as he lay bound and gagged behind a garbage dumpster? Or perhaps he was lucid enough to concoct such a story as he was recovering from surgery, heavily sedated and unaware of anything that was happening around him. No, ladies and gentlemen, he made up no such story." Hayden's eyes roamed those staring back at him, stopping for a moment to look into each pair. "He spoke the truth. As difficult as it was for him to describe what happened to him, he bravely did it. And as difficult as it was for him to come into this courtroom…to describe in detail what happened to him…in front of his family, his coworkers, complete strangers, and even the man who attacked him…he did it, because he doesn't want what happened to him to happen to anyone else. And if you let this man go, he will continue down this path of violence and there will be other victims. Please don't let that happen. And please don't let him go unpunished for what he's already done. Put him away for the immeasurable suffering he's caused and keep it from happening to anyone else. Thank you."

"Ms. Sheffield," said Judge Andrews, "you may begin."

"Thank you, Your Honor," she said as she stood. She approached the jury box and walked the length of it and back again, making eye contact with each juror. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution is right about one thing. You did hear two very different versions of events. And you might be tempted, for one reason or another, to believe one story over the other. But the question here is not which story you believe. The question is did the prosecution prove to you that Officer Hanson's story is true? Did they prove that Lee Eckert committed this crime? And ladies and gentlemen, they most certainly did not. No evidence was presented to prove any of the claims made by the officer. In fact, the only hard evidence presented seemed to verify the defendant's story. There was a sheet in the laundry hamper at his house, which Officer Hanson claims to have never been to, stained with the officer's blood and semen along with Mr. Eckert's semen. Officer Hanson admits to conduct unbecoming an officer while he was undercover investigating Mr. Eckert, including doing drugs and having sex with a young woman at Mr. Eckert's apartment. And Officer Hanson admits going to see Mr. Eckert in prison…whether it was simply to take him some photographs of his child or just to see Mr. Eckert is irrelevant. The fact is that Officer Hanson cared enough about Mr. Eckert to go see him."

Sheffield paused and approached the defense table to take a drink from her bottle of water. She lingered there a moment, letting the jury consider her words before returning to the jury box. "And then you have Lee Eckert, newly released from prison and on parole. Do you really think, ladies and gentlemen, that the first thing he would do is commit a crime that could get him put back in prison for life?" She laughed a little. "Now, I'll admit, Lee Eckert might not be the smartest man around, but wouldn't that be an incredibly stupid thing to do? And a crime against a police officer who knows him? Not likely. Not even for the dimmest bulb in the room.

But let's assume he did commit this crime. Then what? Well, he would go into hiding, wouldn't he? He would leave town, change his name, lay low. Right? But do you know what Lee Eckert was doing after this crime occurred? He was living in his apartment under his own name, going out around the neighborhood. He even opened a bank account under his own name. Does that sound like someone trying to hide from the police? And when the police came to Mr. Eckert's apartment…twice…to arrest him…he offered no resistance. He was sitting in the living room in plain sight and went with them willingly.

Ladies and gentlemen, Lee Eckert wasn't hiding because he had nothing to hide. He had committed no crime. He has no reason to lie to you about the sexual encounter he had with Tom Hanson that night. Only Officer Hanson has a reason to lie. To cover up his homosexuality and his inappropriate conduct with a suspect. His own partner even testified that homosexuals in the police department are discriminated against.

Again, ladies and gentlemen, remember that the defense is under no obligation to prove Mr. Eckert innocent. The prosecution must prove…beyond a shadow of a doubt…that he is guilty. And they have not done that. Mr. Eckert is not perfect. He's done his share of crimes. But he is not guilty of this. Please do not send this man back to prison just to satisfy some personal vendetta that Officer Hanson or the police department may have against him. Thank you."

"Thank you, Ms. Sheffield," said the judge. "The jury has been instructed on what to consider when deliberating their decision. Court will adjourn until a verdict is reached."

As the spectators filed out of the courtroom, Hayden approached Tom and the others sitting with him. "Well, we've done all we can do. Now we wait."

The group was somber, and no one spoke until Tom stood up and shook the D.A.'s hand. "Thanks, Scott. I appreciate everything you've done."

Hayden nodded. "You're welcome." I hope it was enough, he added silently. "We'll call you when the verdict is in."

A day and a half later, Doug rang the doorbell at Margaret Hanson's house. She answered and gave him a surprised look.

"He's not here, Doug. I'm sorry…I thought he told you."

"Told me what? Where is he?" asked Doug.

The woman sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. "He moved back to his apartment…the night the case went to the jury. I tried to get him to at least wait until after the verdict, but he wanted to go. I haven't heard from him since."

"What…you mean…he doesn't answer the phone? Or…?"

"I haven't tried to call. Not yet. I wanted to give him a little space. But…"

"I'll go over there," said Doug. "And I'll call you."

Mrs. Hanson smiled, clearly relieved. "Thank you, Doug. For everything."

"Come on, man, I know you're in there," said Doug loudly as he pounded on Tom's door. "Your mom told me."

Silence.

"Don't make me get the key off the top of the door and come in there and catch your ass coming out of the shower or something."

Silence.

"Okay, that's it. I'm coming in, but I'm covering my eyes 'cause I don't wanna…"

The door opened with a jerk. "Okay! Okay! Shut your trap and get in here," Tom said, opening the door all the way so Doug could come in.

Doug entered the apartment, not sure what to expect. He looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary…no empty liquor bottles indicating his friend was trying to drown his sorrows. No darkness to indicate that he was sitting alone in a fit of deep depression. No gun lying on the table to indicate he was contemplating an end to it all. And quite frankly, it was the absence of these items that troubled Doug the most. What was his friend's presence of mind right now?

Tom followed Doug into the living room and stood with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, watching him. "Have a seat."

Doug looked back at him suspiciously. "What's going on?"

Tom looked confused. "Nothing. Why?" He sat down in a soft chair opposite the couch.

Doug sat on the couch and looked at Tom. "Call your mom, man."

"Huh?"

"She's worried. Call her," said Doug.

Tom sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Okay…I know. I will. I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me you're sorry, tell her."

"Okay! Okay! I get it! I know! It's just…" Tom shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I needed this, Doug. I really needed this time alone…away…from everything…and everyone." He looked at Doug, silently pleading with him to understand. "This is the first time I've been alone since…since it happened."

Doug started to object and then thought about it. Tom was right. First there was the hospital, then 24/7 at his mother's house, then doctors, psychologists, detectives, and court…every day sitting with the group, lunch with the group, then going home with his mother. Christ, it was a wonder he hadn't cracked before now. "I never even thought about that. You're right. I'm sorry. It must have been really hard. But…do you need anything? Or…"

"Nah, I went to the store yesterday. I'm okay." Tom smiled.

"But…well, are you sure you…I mean…did you sleep okay?"

Tom's smile faltered for a moment. No, he hadn't slept well. Not at all. Lights on, lights off. TV on, TV off. In bed, on the couch. And finally, a medication induced sleep that was more torture than lying awake, as his dreams thrust him into a world where he could not escape, where things occurred that were even worse than he had actually endured. No, he had not slept well. "Yeah," he said with a smile. "No problem."

Doug didn't buy that for a second, but he played along. "Good. Soooo…what's going on tonight? Want to get out? Catch the game over at the Brick House?"

Tom shook his head. "I don't think so."

"All right," said Doug, not deterred, "we're staying in then." He got up and went to the kitchen and poked his head into the refrigerator.

"Doug, come on. Really, I…"

Doug's head appeared over the refrigerator door. "I ain't leavin'. Now where's all this food you bought?"

The two friends spent the evening in front of the TV, using up just about all of the food and drink in the house and having a good time. But Tom was insistent that Doug leave before it got too late, even though he feigned being too tired to drive and wanting the couch for the night.

"I have to get used to this, Doug. I have to figure out how to handle it. I'll be fine. Go."

So Doug had left and Tom wandered the apartment, contemplating how he could try something different this night to sleep, when his cell phone rang. He answered, "Doug, go home! I told you…"

"Tom? It's Scott Hayden."

Tom stood frozen, the phone to his ear, and swallowed hard.

"The jury's back. Court meets at ten tomorrow morning."

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