Chapter 12: UNDER THE WEIGHT OF ALL THE AWFUL THINGS
"You got to have an Out…something to take you away from this shit, even for a little while. Else this shit will take YOU out."
Jarry can still hear Eli dispensing his advice, both of them sitting on his small boat on the San Joaquin River waiting to catch fish that she's convinced don't exist. They'd been working insane hours on a joint investigation between her Stockton PD organized crime unit and the Sanwa sheriffs when Eli suggested they take a break, which meant indulging in his third grand passion behind his job and his wife (not necessarily in that order) - trout fishing. It'd been the perfect temporary escape on a sunny spring day; although they didn't catch any damn fish, the short time away from the teeth-grinding frustration of that case gave them the renewed energy to push forward.
Running's always been her Out; ever since she was a kid, she'd lace up her Nikes and hit the running trails to get away from shit going sideways in her life: her impossible-to-please career-military father, her pill-popping mother, her cheating (now ex-) husband. That said, running's also her way In; with the clarity that always seems to come on her long runs, she can really think about all the puzzle pieces - whether they actually fit together or just pile up into one goddamn mess.
But pounding the dirt path of her running route, she's still struggling with the fact and fiction jumbling around Eli and Dr. Knowles' murders. After FINALLY receiving and reading the crime scene report, Jarry's knows it validates the gut feeling she'd had from the start - that the good doctor had been the intended victim and that Eli likely suffered the shit-sucking fate of wrong place/wrong time.
However, what would this conclusion do to the Attorney General's mission to reinstate capital punishment to the California criminal justice system? The bloody execution of a decorated, well-respected county Sheriff in the home of a dangerous motorcycle gang president with a well-documented history of crime and violence…well that just has death penalty written all over it. Although the horrifying brutality of Tara Knowles' murder could sway some to put her killer on death row, but then some might say she made her own bed by embracing her husband's outlaw life. No, the path to judicial review had to start with cop killing - that's the backbone of the AG's case. But a good defense lawyer could argue that Eli's death was simple manslaughter; if he was killed stumbling onto the scene - instead of premeditated murder - that could be life in prison, not a lethal injection. Which makes Jarry wonder why the AG's top deputy's still quarterbacking this case if it can't be used to further their political ends. Nick Reese doesn't do shit without a greater purpose.
Juice Ortiz and Gemma Teller…there's definitely something there, she can feel it. Even through the bitchy biker mama verified the twitchy biker's alibi, Jarry isn't buying the scripted perfection of their matching stories. Juice's definitely scared shitless about something, and despite her cold fuck-you attitude, so's Gemma.
"I don't know where you're going with all these questions, sweetheart," Gemma had seethed at her. "But you've heard that curiosity killed the cat…I'd hate to see anything happen to your nosy little pussy." Seemed like a rather extreme reaction to simple questions about the woman's whereabouts at the time of the murders - and her relationship with her son's late wife. Yeah, that definitely made Jarry curious.
But despite the prickling in her usually infallible cop instincts, Jarry can't quite connect these puzzle pieces - no doubt because she's missing a few critical ones. Yes, Juice could've harbored a violent grudge against Eli that resulted in the county Sheriff found shot to death on the Teller's kitchen floor. But what about Tara Knowles - why the hell would Juice savagely stab his boss' wife to death? Surely not on orders from his MC's President; one look at Teller and anyone could see the intense grief and rage burning in the man. Also Juice doesn't strike her as someone who'd deliberately provoke violent men like Jax Teller; no, guys like him follow orders, they don't know any other way.
But if Juice's involved, why would Gemma cover for the man who might've brutally murdered her daughter-in-law, destroying her son and his family in the process? Was it possible that the SAMCRO matriarch was just protecting one of her motorcycle boys?
And when talking to Teller, Jarry got the distinct impression that Gemma didn't tell him about the true nature of her oh-so-pleasant conversation with the county Sheriff; otherwise, Jarry would've thought the loyal son would've jumped down her throat for interrogating his mother about his wife's death. But no, he'd stonily warned Jarry to leave his mother alone - that Gemma wouldn't know shit about Nero's injury. Which meant Gemma had lied to her son that she'd been questioned about Nero. Definitely curious.
Fuck, she could run all the way to Canada and still have shit. Dragging herself up her porch steps, she finally pulls out her phone to check all the texts and voicemails that she missed during her run. Her cop instincts surge again as she listens to Cane's message; Colette Jane doesn't have a verifiable alibi for the time of the murders.
During his non-traditional, borderline dysfunctional childhood Jax never really knew what it was like to hate. Quite the opposite, in fact; growing up as the much-loved son of JT and Gemma Teller and heir-apparent to the Presidency of the Sons of Anarchy, he'd been weaned on the importance of love and family, of loyalty and the bonds of brotherhood.
It wasn't until he was twelve-years-old that he first felt the burn of violent hate scorch through him; the night Opie told him that Tara's old man beat her up so bad that he nearly killed her. When he saw his battered friend and then recalled with horror all the times she'd shown up with fresh bruises and broken bones, claiming to have fallen off her bike or down the stairs…well it was the first time he honestly thought he could actually kill someone.
So for the longest time, Jax never hated anyone or anything more than fucking Frank Knowles; if it weren't for some interceding factors (mostly Tara), he probably would've shot the bastard dead a few hundred times. Then ATF Agent Josh Kohn brought his toxic self to Charming; Jax'd discovered a whole new level of hate for the sick fuck who'd terrorized and brutalized Tara - for the goddamn piece of shit who'd slept with the girl Jax loved more than anything, the girl who belonged only with him. To this day he doesn't regret killing that son-of-a-bitch, just that he didn't inflict more pain before blowing a big bloody hole into the fucker's head.
He won't be making that mistake twice…Slamming his fist into Nick Reese's ribs, Jax sneers with satisfaction as the other man grunts in pain. Unlike Frank Knowles and Josh Kohn, Reese might not have ever physically hurt Tara - but Jax hates this fucking prick more than anything ever in his life.
As if to fuel his volcanic rage, images from that goddamn photo album continue to sear his brain - of Tara smiling and laughing with this asshole, letting him hold her and kiss her. Son-of-a-goddamn-bitch. Jax had wallowed in hell after she left him for college, and this prick - this goddamn motherfucking prick - stole the years Jax should've had with her. Growling with renewed outrage, he hurls Reese into the cement wall; then to ensure that sore ribs and a bloody cut on the pretty boy's face aren't his only injuries, Jax charges again.
But Reese recovers quickly, stopping Jax with a swift, precise and brutal kick to the knees that brings him crashing to the ground again. Christ, the prick knows martial arts. Gasping for breath, he closes his eyes as sharp pain momentarily overwhelms him.
"…we were together for a few years…"
"Did you love him?"
"I told myself I did, he was a great guy."
"'Great guy' my ass…" Jax mutters to himself, managing to roll away in time to avoid a vicious kick to his ribs…goddamn asshole. Two can play this fucker's game; he sweeps his legs to hook Reese and send him falling backwards. Before the other man can recover, Jax lunges for him; attacking with every ounce of fury inside him. To hell with needing this man's help; Jax wants to kill him now…
He doesn't know how long they pound the shit out of each other; so much anger, so much hate between them - all because of the intense love for the same woman…the same woman they'd both lost for good. Despite the hot rage burning through him, Jax fully gets why the other man hates him so much. Shit, it's nothing compared to the near-debilitating self-hatred that's been eating him alive since he found Tara's bloody body on their kitchen floor.
However, any mutual understanding fucking ends there as Jax head-butts Reese's surely-bruised (and hopefully broken) ribs, slamming him to the ground so he can drive his fists into the smug asshole's goddamn face. Unfortunately, Reese's no man's passive punching bag; the fucker manages to block the blow, bucking hard to throw Jax off-balance before driving a double-fisted hammer strike to Jax's chest.
Stunned, Jax doubles over as pain instantly radiates from his chest to torch his whole body. Holy fucking shit. Gasping for breath, he opens his non-swollen eye to watch Reese struggle to his knees only to collapse onto his back. For several long seconds both men remain silent and motionless, their bloody and banged-up bodies mutely agreeing to a much needed time-out.
"Do you have any idea how many neonatal surgeons there are?" Reese breaks the silence, apparently determined to crush Jax with both his fists and his words. Not bothering to wait for Jax's answer (a good thing because he doesn't have the first fucking clue), Reese turns to glower at him. "Less than 1% of all the doctors in the country could do what Tara did…Hell, I bet you didn't know that she got the highest score in the state on her surgical board exams…while knocked up with your kid. Guess that's not exactly good prison visit talk…"
"What is it?" Concern fills those beautiful green eyes that know him so well.
Jax glances down at his two-month-old baby son sleeping in his arms then back up to the love of his life, who'd just finished telling him about her first week back to work from maternity leave - her first week as a bona fide surgical specialist. Whose baby daddy's stuck in prison on a federal gun charge. Not for the first time, he wonders what the hell she sees in him and worries about the day she realizes she could do so much better than a convicted felon without a legitimate cent to his name.
"Nothing…" He pastes a smile on his face for her and for Abel, who's perched on her lap staring at him curiously.
She cups his face in her hand then leans in to kiss him softly. "I love you so much, Jax." She beams a dazzling smile at him and Thomas while hugging Abel closer. "You've given me everything I've always wanted. Just a few more months, Baby, and you'll be home with us…then it'll be perfect."
He pulls her hand from his cheek and brings it to his lips. Yes, once he gets out of this fucking hell hole and back home to his family, everything's going to change. He'll finally make the choice he should've made twelve years ago; leave Charming for a better life and finally, finally become the man worthy of her. Then it'll be perfect.
Jax swallows hard, although it stings his jaw to do it, as he struggles for control…he can't lose his shit in front of Reese, that motherfucking prick. Focusing on the bastard's words, he realizes that although Tara told him she passed her boards, she never told him she set some kind of record. Which was just like her; ever since high school, she never really talked about her accomplishments - just rolled up her sleeves and made the magic happen.
Scowling at Reese, he wonders how the fuck this shithead knows so much. "What's your goddamn point? It's really pathetic that you've been keeping such close tabs on another man's wife. Tara dumped your ass, remember? Yeah, I know exactly who you are…" Holy shit it felt good to say that out loud, even better to watch Reese pretend not to flinch; now if he could only erase all the years this prick spent with his girl.
"I got to hand it to you, Teller." Ignoring the question, Reese glares at him with undisguised loathing. "When you destroy someone, you go all out…It wasn't enough that you dragged her down into this cesspool life of yours…Hell no, thanks to you, she lost her career, her freedom and…" Jax watches as the other man's face contorts with the rage and pain that he's seen in his own reflection. "Do you ever wonder what those last minutes must've been like for her, Teller? Do you? I can't seem to stop thinking about it."
"She didn't die easily you know. Or quickly. She fought hard to stay alive…I hate thinking of what she must've suffered those last few minutes of her life - so much fear, so much pain…"
Recalling Reese's words to him just a few days ago in this very spot, Jax closes his eyes as his agonizing grief returns with a vengeance. No, he can't stop thinking about it either. Yet another reason why he'd needed his friends - Jack, Jameson and Wild Turkey to get any kind of sleep at night.
"But then you probably had your whore to keep you busy," Reese sneers bitterly, the loathing back on his face in full force. "Yeah, and I know exactly what you are…Was this some kind of sick little game for you, Teller? See how much you could really hurt her while you ruined her life? Jesus Christ, you are really something…fucking that dirty old cunt while Tara's in jail for helping your goddamn ass and then again right in front of her face."
Breathing heavily, Jax sits up slowly, trying to gather enough energy to launch himself at Reese and beat the goddamn prick to death. Although he can't deny his own disgust over his bat-shit stupid behavior or how the staggering weight of his guilt and shame and regret threaten to crush him daily, he fucking doesn't need to hear it from this sanctimonious prick - doesn't need to hear Reese's not-so-subtle allegation that Tara would be alive and well if it weren't for him.
Tara. Remembering what he has to do to avenge her before taking his family out of Charming for good, Jax tries to calm his murderous impulse to pulverize Reese into a bloody pile of dog meat.
"I need you to get me into County to see Colette Jane. Off the radar." He stares coldly at Reese, noting with some satisfaction the blood and bruises on the other man's face and the protective way he cradles his obviously sore ribs. I hope they're broken you asshole son-of-a-bitch, Jax muses viciously.
Reese's expression twists with angry disbelief at Jax's words. "Yeah, I had your whore locked up; it's where she belongs - with the rest of society's waste. You're out of your fucking mind if you plan to use me to help her….Or are you looking for a conjugal?" Reese spits out that last word, leveling him a look of such profound disgust that Jax almost winces.
"She's not my whore," he snaps, glaring at Reese. "Look asshole, I made mistakes - goddamn stupid mistakes that I'm not proud of, that I'd take back in a heartbeat if I could…but, unlike you, I can't dwell on my shortcomings right now…There's a chance that Colette knows something about what happened to Tara; it's probably bullshit to get from out of this drug charge, but I can't afford to ignore it." Slowly rising to his feet, Jax holds on to the wall for support - goddamn it, his ribs ache too. "If you really give a shit about what happened to Tara, you'll help me with this. Or you can keep jerking yourself off, playing these stupid fucking mind games with me."
Reese flashes him a look of hate so intense, Jax almost feels he's staring into a mirror; then clambering to his feet, the pompous fucker sways slightly, grimacing in pain before training those frosty blue eyes back to Jax. "What does she know? I swear Teller…if this bitch you brought into Tara's life had anything to do with…"
"I don't know what she knows," Jax interrupts running a bruised hand through his disheveled hair. "That's why I need to talk to her. And believe me if she's involved…well, I'll take care of it." Renewed rage vibrates throughout him, the hunt's back on again.
Nodding grimly, Reese straightens his rumpled and bloody shirt, looking once again like the state's celebrated golden boy - albeit a bit battered. "I'll make it happen…Wait for my call." Shooting Jax one more scathing glare, the man who once meant something to Tara turns to walk towards his car.
"Reese!" Jax calls after him, unable to suppress the questions plaguing him since finding out the truth about Tara's past with the enigmatic lawyer. "What do you get out of this? You know if anyone finds out what you've been doing, your career's fucking over."
The other man stops in his tracks then turns slowly to face Jax once again. Jamming his hands into his pockets, Reese gives him a long, measuring look as if trying to decide what exactly to divulge. "You broke into my house…took a souvenir - don't worry, I have copies - so you know about me and Tara. But do you know we have more than her in common? Like you, Teller, I also grew up with my path mapped out for me. Great-grandson and grandson of two former Governors, son of an aspiring Governor…politics was in my blood like motorcycle oil's in yours. And I was ready to follow that path…until my first year at Stanford, I went to visit a friend at UCSD and met Tara…."
Jax watches with both dread and fascination as the coldness vanishes from Reese's eyes, replaced by a warm affection that Jax hadn't thought possible. "I wanted to marry her after that first night…even though she made it clear that she didn't want anything serious, I transferred from the school where all of my family's gone for over a century to one hundreds of miles away that's world-renowned for science and medicine - two things that have never interested me a day in my life. But I would've done anything to be with her." Pausing, Reese stares out at the cemetery - at the rows of graves, as if trying to find her. "Those years with her were the best in my life…I'm sure you can understand. Even when she wouldn't marry me, I held on…Did you know I moved to Chicago with her?"
Clenching his fist, Jax shakes his head; Christ, listening to another man talk about his love for Tara hurt worse than he'd ever imagined, especially hearing that Reese had made the choice that Jax refused, twice - however, he can't stop himself from wanting to hear what the other man has to say.
"Yeah, I did a whole year of law school in Chicago…I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack or disown me or both, especially when I'd tell her that Northwestern wasn't that far behind Stanford in the rankings. God she hated Tara, blamed her for leading me 'astray' - but I didn't care because Tara and I were happy. So happy until…"
No way, no fucking way that Tara had been happy with this asshole. Jax rejects the idea totally, desperately clinging to the belief that neither of them could be truly happy without each other; he just knows that Tara needed him, just as badly as he needed and still needs her. His fingers twitch, itching to grab his gun and shoot Reese dead before he can spew more lies about Tara living happily with him; instead he stands frozen as Reese finishes his story.
"…we got the news that my dad died…that he'd been fucking assassinated at a fundraiser - gunned down surrounded by cops and security." Reese scrubs his bruised face with a shaking hand; Jax realizes with morbid clarity that Reese still hasn't recovered from his father's murder any more than Jax has - neither of them could divert from their fathers' legacies, no matter what it cost them. Holy fuck, they really do have more in common than the love for the same woman.
"I had to go back to California…My brother and I…we were the only ones our mother had left, the only ones to take up our father's mantel…I begged Tara to come with me, but she didn't want to leave her program at Feinberg - of course, my brilliant girlfriend was on a fast track to an accelerated internship…something she probably wouldn't have had starting over at Stanford Med. But back then, I couldn't understand…So I gave her an ultimatum: marry me and move back to California or we were done. It was the probably the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life…I never saw her alive again."
It's ridiculous, given all of this happened so long ago, but Jax bristles as Reese refers to Tara his girlfriend; the searing jealousy and resentment that rocked him after seeing the photos of Tara with this guy intensifies after hearing Reese's account of what sounded like a happy and healthy relationship.
Taking a deep breath, Jax once again struggles to control the impulse to shoot this son-of-a-bitch dead right there; summoning Bobby's words the night they broke into Reese's house, he manages to calm down. "Take a look at that wedding ring on your finger, Jax. Tara married you…not him…He may have had her for a little while, but she came back to you. Don't ever forget that."
"So to answer your question…what do I get out of this? I think we both want to find whoever murdered Tara and make sure that fucking monster gets the justice he - or she - deserves." All warmth disappears from Reese's face as his usual icy cold expression returns. "As for my career…it's very thoughtful of you to be so concerned. Ironic, too. For the past year, I've been in Washington, DC arguing a case in front of the Supreme Court to re-establish capital punishment in California…time well spent, we were successful in getting the death penalty applied to murder of law enforcement personnel and witnesses to capital crimes…I got back home just in time to find out about Tara."
Reese's blue eyes glitter with satisfaction and a hint of madness. "Cards on the table, Teller. I'll help you find her murderer, help you put that animal down…and then I'm going to nail you for killing Eli Roosevelt, a decorated county Sheriff and witness to Tara's murder; once you're convicted, I'm going to have a front row seat when the state jabs a needle into your arm."
Jesus Christ, what a warped fucking mind; first Kohn, now this twisted asshole - how the fuck did Tara find these guys? Although momentarily stunned, Jax recovers quickly then strides over to stand eye-to-eye with the man who just promised him a seat on death row. As he said before, two can play this fucker's game.
"Well then I'm just going to have to kill you before we get that far, won't I?" Bunching his fist, Jax slams an uppercut across the Reese's jaw, smirking as the prick stumbles backward and lands hard on the ground. "Call me when you set the meet with Colette. We need to do this tonight."
Flashing Reese one last glare, Jax can't resist jabbing a white sneaker into the bastard's sore ribs; savoring the asshole's grunts of pain, he turns to walk back to his bike.
"What the hell happened to you?" Bobby eyes him up and down as Jax walks into the ice cream shop, the question and the sight of Jax's battered face draw his other Brothers to flock around him.
He waves them off and lights a cigarette. "I'm fine - you should see the other guy…Is Alvarez here?" He'd seen some of the Mayans' bikes parked outside, but there's none of them immediately in sight.
"They're out back; Taco Nation internal meeting," Happy answers, handing him a cold beer - either to drink or hold against his swollen cheek. Jax opts for both.
"I'm hoping 'the other guy' isn't who I think it is…" Chibs shakes his head. "Jackie, you don't want to be messin' with him because you're pissed he knew Tara. Not now with all this shit going down with the Mayans and the Irish. Nero…"
Jax ignores the knowing look that passes between Chibs, Bobby and Tig; he doesn't need any kind of fucking lecture right now. "How is he? I heard this morning that he'd be in surgery for hours."
"Gemma said that he made it out of surgery, but they won't tell her shit beyond that. Hell nobody'll tell us a damn thing," Tig grouses. "Thought Alvarez was going to burn the place down when he found out they won't spill dick on Nero. I told him he should get one of his little brown amigos to pretend to be Nero's family so we can get intel. He just sent Pedro or Paco or some Spanish speaking homie to St. Thomas, we should find out something soon."
The small Mayan posse choose that time to make an entrance; the men cast lingering looks at Jax's bruised face but say nothing, no doubt used to the violence that can erupt so sporadically in their lives. After greeting all of the men, Jax updates everyone on his talks with the Irish and with Marco DeNotti, the mob's money man, who'd offered the Irish the incentive to turn the gun distribution over to the Mayans.
A wide grin spreads across Alvarez's face as he grips Jax's shoulder in gratitude. "I think this calls for a drink in celebration…Juan…" He motions to another man who pulls open a bag full of carefully wrapped bottles of premium tequila, drawing a roar of appreciation from the SAMCRO members and Chucky, who starts lining up shot glasses.
Side-stepping the rush to the bar, Jax pulls Alvarez aside. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Alvarez nods then follows Jax out the front door.
Lighting up another cigarette, Jax studies the Mayan President for a moment. "You ever had to take care of business in the pussy side of County?"
Now it's Alvarez's turn to stare at Jax; taking a long drag of his cigarette, he exhales a cloud of smoke before nodding slowly. "I might have some contacts there. Would take a day or two to nail it down."
Too long; Jax shakes his head. "It's got to be quick, man."
Alvarez gives Jax a long, considering look before nodding again. "Ok, I'll make some calls now." Then turning, he walks back inside the building. Jax takes another long drag, exhales then starts towards the door before he hears someone yelling his name.
Whirling around, Jax spots an angry Barosky heading his way. Christ, he really doesn't want to deal with this guy now. "What do you need, Charlie? Sorry I haven't had a chance to call you back. If you haven't heard, my wife was murdered, so I have a few things on my plate right now."
"That goddamn pussy Sheriff raided Diosa." Barosky ignores Jax, so focused on his own rage. "Locked up Colette on bullshit drug charges. It's only a matter of time before they connect it to us. You got to tell your lawyer to get her off."
Jax studies the other man closely; the shady ex-cop looks more agitated than Jax's ever seen him. No doubt because he's involved to the hilt with the drugs the sheriffs seized in Colette's bedroom. Jax actually wants to kill them both for not telling him about their little side-business; he never would've gotten involved with them if he knew. Maybe it was their intent all along to scapegoat SAMCRO if they ever got caught. Well that won't be fucking happening.
"I'd think someone in her profession would have a lawyer on retainer." Jax drawls taking another drag, knowing his nonchalance would only enrage Barosky further. Good. The asshole should squirm.
Barosky shakes his head franticly. "That guy's small time; never worked outside of night court. No, we need your guy. Everybody knows Rosen's bullet proof when it comes to shit like this. You got to talk to him, Jax. Tell him to take Colette's case."
Jax flashes him a smile that doesn't reach his eyes or warm the coldness in his veins. "I already did. Rosie'll go see Colette tomorrow." Dropping the cigarette butt to the ground, Jax stubs it out with his shoe then clamps his hand on Barosky's shoulder. "I got to go and pick my kids up from daycare now. I'll be touch. Don't worry, I'll take care of Colette."
AN for readers who are sticklers for canon: in S1, SOA writers referenced two different medical schools for Tara - Kohn had her transcript from Feinberg Medical School (which is Northwestern University) and Stahl mentioned that Tara graduated from Loyola Med at the top of her class. Both are outstanding medical schools, but for this story, I stuck with Feinberg because it works better with Reese going to law school at Northwestern (which is a top law school).