The People of Kings' County v. Philip Blake
AN: I did little to no research on official court procedures. I only used my vast pseudo-knowledge based on years of LA Law, Law & Order (all the versions), Boston Legal and finally what the Muse wanted to serve the story. Sue me…
Monday
Michonne cannot sleep. The trial starts today and she is beside herself. His expected allocution to all charges and sentencing should be swift and she looks forward to closing the book on this incident but life does not grant guarantees. She putters purposefully around the kitchen preparing a grand breakfast. Occasionally she pushes against her belly to feel the wonder of her children at play within her warm, safe womb. His voice breaks the solitude, "You are starting the day early," he states with his husky morning voice.
She turns to greet him and every worry she ponders flies out of her head. I have the hottest husband on the planet-damn! Rick stands at the kitchen entrance in his uniform pants and unfastened belt. His white tee covered by his unbuttoned uniform shirt hangs off his broad, muscular shoulders. What stops her breathing is his face. The shaved chiseled jaw line carved by the goddess and clear blue eyes intently focused on her. "I…I haven't seen your face like that before," she stammers.
He squints while thinking back over their courtship. "No…I guess not. I never really shaved on the weekends and that is when we met. Plus once you made your preference clear I packed the razor away," he offers a coy smile.
She smiles brightly, "In my defense I did not know any better."
He moves across the kitchen to join her at the center island. His fingers lace with her hand already on her belly, "I have permission to start shaving again?"
"As good as you look I may buy stock in your favorite razor," she flirts. He laughs and his dimples decorate his face and chin deliciously.
He leans down and kisses her softly, "Good morning," he greets against her luscious lips. His large calloused hand presses against her expanding waist, "Good morning babies…thank you for letting your mama sleep last night."
Michonne watches him in amazement, "How did you know I slept longer between bathroom trips? I was careful climbing out of bed," she asks in wonder.
Rick kisses the tip of her nose ignoring her question, "What are we having?"
She shakes her head, "Pancakes with bananas, walnuts, and caramel sauce plus sausage."
He watches her lower onto the stool before taking his seat. They are half way through the meal before he speaks again, "I shaved to make sure I present myself as the perfect deputy…unimpeachable; in case I have to testify. I need this finished…I need him behind bars," he freely shares his vulnerability…the lingering fear.
Michonne nods, "Granted I am biased as the very happy wife but any objective lawyer would have to agree. The integrity of your testimony will be enhanced by your polished physical presentation," she affirms.
Rick speaks to fill the quiet and buffer against the doubt that could easily overtake either of them in this moment, "We focus on winning once we step out of our front door."
"We're the ones that win," she offers her fist across the island along with a confident smile.
Carl stands in front of his mirror fastening the tie around his neck. His phone on the dresser is set to speaker. "Are you sure you do not want me to ask my mom for the morning off? I can totally justify the time away from class as prep for Junior Senator's program," Justice questions him.
"Thanks Angel but everything is going to be fine," he replies. It has to be…Uncle Rick and Michonne deserve some peace.
"Carl…this is me. I know you are worried and you are amazing…showing up to support them; but I can support you. What if you have to testify? Who is going to hold your hand?"
He stops and stares at the phone. How does she do that…know that I am worried? "The chance of the proceedings requiring my testimony is slim to none but I appreciate you having my back," he smiles. Uncle Rick was right. I do have a good woman by my side.
"Okay," she drags out. "Let Michonne know if things get out of hand to text and I will run right over and punch him in his old, shriveled junk," she proclaims.
He doubles over in laughter, "I thought you punched people in their throat?" he teases.
"I am a lot of things but tall is not one of them. A junk punch works better for my arsenal of destruction," she states between laughter.
Michonne climbs the steps and turns left to head toward the courtroom. She arrived early to make time to speak freely with Deanna before the official court rituals were set in motion. She checks her watch and turns towards the right. I better use the bathroom in case the opening statements take longer than expected.
Philip Blake operates like he is a participant in a surreal alternative universe of his life. His mind retains the concept that he could go to jail but his psyche keeps rejecting the pre-determined outcome. He listened to the point by point presentation of the 'spare no expense' defense team. They brokered the best deal money could buy but the hard facts of the case were insurmountable. Yet, he continues to delude himself that a more favorable scenario was available to him. I always win. The defense team flanked by his wife exit the defendant conference room ahead of him when he catches sight of her. ADA Grimes moving down the hallway toward the bathroom. Without thinking he speaks up, "I need to use the restroom. I will meet you inside."
The lead defense attorney sighs in exasperation, "I know the pending loss of freedom is scary and stifling but these minor delays you continue to create are not helping you. Please do not anger the judge by arriving late," he implores.
He nods in agreement and watches them enter the courtroom before heading up the hallway.
Rick enters the courtroom and removes the brown, Stratton deputy hat from his head and places it under his left arm. His purposeful, bowlegged stride leads him down the aisle to the pew just behind the prosecutor's table. Carl stands to greet him with a warm embrace, "We got this," he offers in a hushed tone.
He nods pressing his lips together, "Yeah," he manages to rasp out. He glances around the room. "Where is Michonne?"
Carl looks over his shoulder, "She didn't come with you?" he questions in alarm.
Rick feels the panic pumping through his veins, "No…she left before me this morning…said she wanted to speak with Monroe." They share a look and leap into action.
Carl places his right hand on the banister to leap over the railing, "Security protocol three…I repeat security protocol three," he shouts to the Bailiff and Judge. He turns his head quickly, "Uncle Rick, radio channel 3," he orders.
Bailiff Monroe responds immediately, "Sequester the jury," he gestures to the other security staff members.
The Judge focuses on the defendant's table, "We need to secure your client…where is your client," she demands. The lead defense counsel's eyes widen in terror, "Bathroom..he asked to use the bathroom.
"Bailiff Monroe track the ankle monitor," the Judge commands.
Michonne exits the last bathroom stall headed toward the bank of sinks. She whispers to her belly, "I am glad we went before things got started." She places her brief case on the floor next to her feet before being startled by his unmistakable dark voice.
"Rumor has it that pregnant pussy is extra hot. Lucky for me I get to find out after you suck what is left of my dick and ball." If I am never getting out I might as well take what I want.
Her eyes assess the large bathroom. Philip Blake stands in front of the solitary door that serves as entrance and exit. She tries to breathe normally but her options are limited. She could use her case as a weapon but the pregnancy limits her agility.
Blake unbuckles his belt and drops his pants and boxers. His small mangled penis and mutilated scrotum hang grotesquely between his legs. "Move forward and do not waste time. I have the upper hand. I do not plan on hurting you but I have nothing to lose," he demands.
Stall for time. She feels beads of sweat on her upper lip and her heart is racing from the rush of adrenaline. She summons every amount of strength she has to make the first small step to control his threat of violence.
Rick listens to the voice crackle over the radio, "Restroom…women's restroom." He unsnaps his leather holster and removes his Colt Python pulling back the hammer sprinting down the hallway. This is Philip Blake's last day on earth. His booted feet slide to a stop in front of the door before yanking it open with his left hand. His eyes narrow as he picks up every detail in the room: Blake's bare ass with his pants and underwear around his ankles and Michonne taking small steps in his direction while she cradles her belly. "Get on your knees," he growls. Philip's head snaps to the right and Rick moves forward pressing the cold metal tip of his weapon against the man's temple, "On your knees or I pull the trigger," he tilts his head and commands through a clenched jaw.
Blake lowers clumsily to his knees hampered by his undress from the waist down. "Do it…I dare you. I have the means to get probation and fuck her raw while you rot in jail," he threatens and taunts.
Rick's left hand trembles and the veins of his right forearm holding the weapon pulse with rage. His sanity is slipping and a dark satisfaction of seeing Blake's brain matter splattered against the tiled walls begins to take root in his mind. "Rick, the two of us need to get the babies out of here. We need to go home together," she pleads.
His eyes never leave Blake but he focuses on her voice. "Michonne, leave now and have them call me on the radio once you are safe."
She moves quickly but pauses once she is at his side. She squeezes his meaty bicep, "We love you," she declares.
He nods still staring at Blake, "I love y'all too. He listens to her heels clicking and clacking against the stone flooring before the door closes completely. Rick takes a deep breath gathering rational thought. They are counting on me. He takes another breath and remembers his vows. Love protects, trust, hopes and perseveres. He takes a step back but never lowers his weapon. "Place your hands on the floor. Your bare bitch ass is going to crawl back to the courtroom and go directly to jail. You will not pass go…there will be no probation or any doubt of your intent. Start crawling," Rick pulls the door open with his left hand using his back to hold it in place.
Deputies Espinosa and Ford stand sentry outside the courtroom with their arms raised, weapons drawn and head on a swivel. Rosita sees her first, "Michonne," she shouts moving toward her friend while she fumbles to secure her weapon in the holster on her hip.
Michonne picks up the pace her eyes fill with tears, "Deputy Ford, please…Rick," she shakes her head, "I need him to come home to us," she looks over her shoulder and back to the barrel-chested redhead.
"Don't you worry…I got his back even if I have to hog tie him or wrestle his stubborn ass to the ground like a pig covered in slop." His heavy sprint moves down the hall.
"Let's get you inside," Rosita moves her arms around Michonne's slumped shoulders. She places her in the closest chair at the back of the chamber before retrieving bottled water, "Drink this. How are you feeling?"
"I can't feel anything until I see him. We are counting on him…he has to come back to us," the pace of her voice is frantic.
Carl appears at her side. She didn't see him approach. He kneels beside her, "Michonne, he will be here any minute but he is counting on you. The babies need you right now. Take a deep breath," he summons strength and maturity he does not really have but he knows she needs.
She nods, "Right…calm," she takes a deep breath, "Come on Team Grimes…let's make Daddy proud." She closes her eyes and practices her breathing.
Abe meets Rick and the bare ass perpetrator half way down the hall. He re-holsters his Glock-10 and waves off the court house security. Rick is in beast mode and only his real brothers in arms can keep him from making a deadly mistake. The low life is crawling at a snail's pace. "Well, look at you all unwrapped and waiting to be cracked open…I know the boys in the cell block are going to love your pasty, flabby ass. How many of them did you put away?"
Blake does not respond. "Where is Michonne?" Rick asks but his eyes never leave the man on the ground.
"Rosita has her Brother and I promised her I would make sure you came home so don't make me out no liar." Ford joins the slow march down the hall with the suspect between them.
They finally make their way inside and turn Philip over to Bailiff Monroe. His clothes are secured before he is shackled and marched away for processing. The Judge gavels a recess until further notice.
Rick rushes to her side opposite Carl, "Michonne…Gorgeous." Her eyes pop open and the tears fall. He reaches up and cups her face brushing away her tears with his thumbs. "You ready to go home?" he asks with love in his eyes and a toothless smile.
She shakes her head, "We can't…something is wrong…the babies…we have to get to the hospital," she trembles in terror. Rick freezes and his world stops turning.