Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"Investigative custody? Your honor! With all due respect, this is a man who spent twenty years of his life in the service of the city of San Francisco!"
Ilsa would have gladly hired the most expensive legal eagle in California but Allyson Russo had given them a bit of background info on the judge who'd decide about Winston's near future and told them the name of the lawyer he usually dealt best with.
"There is absolutely no reason not to let him out on bail", the lawyer continued, his posture making very clear that he was not going to back down on this.
Unfortunately Allyson Russo, for obvious reasons, hadn't been allowed to take Winston's case and her colleague, Assistant D.A. Harris, was just as adamant to come out on top as Winston's lawyer. Maybe Chance shouldn't have pissed him off so much back when he protected her in the role of Whitey Doyle's legal representative…
"Mr. Winston's personal file shows first and foremost one thing: He is a man prone to violent outbreaks. His time in the service of the city of San Francisco was interspersed with all sorts of disciplinary problems, including insubordination, drinking on the job and physical confrontations with fellow officers. Not exactly a paramount example for our city's finest, if you ask me."
"We are not here to debate my client's job performance", Winston's lawyer chimed in, but he didn't get any further.
"Well, it was you who brought that point up, didn't you?" Harris all but smirked at his opponent.
Winston's lawyer decided to go on the offensive. "My client's ex-wife was kidnapped right in front of his eyes hardly 24 hours ago. He still doesn't even know whether she's still alive or not. So far the police has come up with nothing…"
"Which is exactly why Mr. Winston took matters in his own hands, went to Ethan Riker's apartment and beat him to death because Mr. Riker didn't provide the right answers to soothe Mr. Winston's wrath. His violent temper is documented in his personnel file in connection with numerous incidents."
"Objection, your honor! This is not a…."
"Objection sustained", the judge agreed. "Mr. Harris, get to the point. Why should I not let Mr. Winston out on a two million dollar bail?"
"Because he is in the employ of Mrs. Ilsa Pucci who not only would have no trouble relinquishing even such a huge amount of money, but also owns a private jet. We let Laverne Winston walk out of here and he'll be on his way to South America within sixty minutes."
"Are you seriously implying that Mrs. Pucci, billionaire, philanthropist, former chairwoman of the Marshall Pucci Foundation, would help a murder suspect escape just because he is in her employ?"
For a second it seemed the judge would give the argument of Winston's lawyer some thought, but Harris had done his homework.
"Not for any employee, no. But apparently the relationship between Mr. Winston and Mrs. Pucci is special. So special, in fact, that Mrs. Pucci is attending this hearing."
Ilsa, in the back of the courtroom, froze. Oh God, what if her presence somehow had a negative effect on the judge's decision? She had only wanted to somehow support Winston, be there for him…
To her horror, the judge indeed agreed with ADA Harris' point of view. Winston was to be remanded in custody.
She pressed her hands against her face in utter terror. Winston was well-known among criminals, both from his time as a police man and from his partnership with Chance. It was common knowledge what happened to members of the law enforcement once they ended up behind bars themselves and Winston, with his long and colorful history of being a pain in the ass…
Just then Ilsa's cell phone signaled. Giving Winston one last wave, not even sure if he, despite Harris' public acknowledgement, had realized her presence, she stepped out of the courtroom and looked at her cell's display.
A text message from Guerrero: Don't worry.
… … …
Winston went through the detention center's booking process in a state of paralysis. Michele had been taken more than 24 hours ago now and still no ransom demand, no contact at all with the kidnappers. The images of Ethan's mauled body, the knowledge that with that kind of injuries he must have gone through hell on earth, the horror of the question what that might mean for his ex-wife, kept haunting him, ruled his mind, left hardly any room for the horror of the situation he himself was in.
Only when he sat down on a bench, as far away from the others as possible, and suddenly two giants approached him, did it dimly get through to him that he was in prison. Among people who hated his guts. Whose cousins, brothers, friends he had shot. Whose fathers he had arrested.
As deeply as Michele's kidnapping and the finding of Ethan had traumatized him, now his instincts kicked in. Whatever happened, he wouldn't go down without a fight. His fists still hurt from him foolishly hitting the walls in that restaurant, double foolish because thanks to these injuries on his knuckles the police now believed he had beaten Ethan to death and he would be hampered to fight these monsters that were now sitting down next to him, one to his right, one to his left.
Nevertheless, not without a fight…
"Relax", the giant to his right growled just then. "Guerrero sent us."
… … …
"I've really tried", Ames said, resting her eyes on Chance's plate full of scrambled eggs with the saddest Bambi look ever.
Chance couldn't help but laugh at her heart-melting expression. "It's not the food", he gently replied.
"I know." She turned away. He didn't need to see her tears. Winston in handcuffs… Winston. He had put her in handcuffs a couple of times and as a teenager she surely would have found the idea of him behind bars highly amusing.
Now the thought turned her stomach. Winston… without him the warehouse seemed so empty.
"Guerrero has it under control", Chance told her quietly. She didn't reply, didn't turn her face to him, but her shoulders started shivering.
"Hey… hey…" Chance got up, walked around the table and crouched next to her. With his index finger he gently wiped a tear from her cheek.
"Despite the shit they show on CSI it is very hard to determine exactly how old injuries are. The bruises and scratches on Winston's knuckles were fresh and he had Riker's blood all over his clothes – that's why they hauled him in, but that's also all they know and all they have. Let them do a couple of tests. They'll soon find out they've got the wrong one." He put his hand under her chin and lifted it slightly.
"Winston doesn't go down easily. He'll make it."
Chance was good at pretending. He didn't let her see that in the back of his mind, pictures of Winston in cuffs – in cuffs – kept attacking him.
Noise on the stairs told them that Ash was heading for the gym area again. Ames looked at Chance. She needn't say anything.
"I'll talk to him", Chance nodded.