by Lisa Worrall
"He deserves the death sentence." The voice behind them was quiet but firm, and they all turned to face Erik. "I want him to pay for what he's done." He leaned into the comforting arm that Cal put around his shoulder and grasped the hand that Todd reached out to him as he was pulled into their communal embrace.
"Gentlemen," the attorney for the prosecution said gently, putting his hand on Will's arm. "It's time. The judge is ready."
The men filed into the courtroom and sat down on the side of the prosecution. Will reached across Scott and squeezed Todd's fingers when the side door opened and two guards brought Jay into the room, and his gaze followed the man as he walked to the table where his lawyer waited for him.
Jay wore an expensive navy suit, a pale blue dress shirt and a navy tie, his loafers polished to a high shine. Will thought he looked like he was heading to a meeting, not to hear the decision on where and how he should spend the rest of his life. As Jay sat down in the chair his lawyer held out for him, Will tensed as the man turned, focused cold blue eyes on Todd's face—and smiled.
"All rise. This court is now in session. Honorable Judge Slade presiding."
Once the judge was seated, he banged his gavel and the bailiff called, "Be seated." Putting his glasses on, he looked down at the brief in front of him and leaned back in his chair. "Would the defendant please rise," he said firmly, waiting until Jay was on his feet. "Jared Randall, you are here today for sentencing. You were found guilty by a jury of your peers for the murder in the first degree of Cory Philips and Jon Webber, for the vicious, continual assault and rape of Todd Campbell, and for the attempted murder of Detectives Scott Turner and Will Harrison of the White Plains PD." He paused, pouring himself some water into the glass beside him and taking a sip. "You may sit. Okay, the court notes that counsel for the defendant is Maurice Wheeler and the counsel for the city of New York is Andrew Bennett. Mr Wheeler, you may address the jury."
Will glanced at Scott and his lips lifted in a brief smile as his partner closed the infinitesimal gap between them on the bench and he felt the heat of Scott's thigh warming his. Jay's lawyer began his summation and Will settled back in his seat. Sentencing could sometimes be harder than the original hearing itself, with both sets of lawyers going over every little piece of evidence, re-hashing everything and then trying to convince the jury that the defendant deserved either the most lenient, or most aggressive sentence within the constraints of the law. And all the while the victim had to sit back and listen to every last detail of the crime being picked over like vultures tearing the last vestiges of meat from a rotting carcass.
He found himself wanting to wipe the smirk from Jay's face as his lawyer droned on about his difficult childhood, his inability to rationalize his feelings for Todd, and even asked them to remember that although Mr Campbell was undoubtedly a victim of abuse, who was to say that every incident was non-consensual? Will's mouth dropped open on its hinge at that last statement. How on earth did the man have the nerve to say that? Will couldn't believe what he was hearing. His glance flitted to the jury and he was glad to see that some of the jurors obviously felt the same. A young woman was glaring at the lawyer, her cold stare almost demanding that he take it back, and a couple of men were shaking their heads in stunned amazement. But he knew they were not here to try Jay. He had already been convicted, today was merely to see how long he would have to pay for his crime. Of course, if it were up to Will, Jay Randall would sit in a cell on death row until they shot him full of that special little cocktail and sent him to the big psycho ward in the sky.
Will felt a surge of pride at the impassive mask Todd wore. Both he and Scott had warned him that the defense would try every trick in the book to get Jay a more lenient sentence, including tearing Todd's character to shreds. That Todd should hang on to that fact during the summations and remember that Jay was guilty, no matter what trash his lawyers dragged out. That Jay would be looking for the slightest reaction from him, however small. He glanced at Todd now and saw the only reaction was the whitening of his knuckles where his hand was clasped in Marcus's.
Then it was the turn of Andrew Bennett, from the District Attorney's office, who reminded the jury of the psychiatric reports by both the defense's and prosecution's expert witnesses. That Jay's own expert agreed he is a sociopath. Will gazed at Jay's profile as the lawyer continued. He could tell by the tightening of his jaw and the tendons in stark relief against his skin that Jay was holding onto his control by the skin of his teeth.
Will turned his attention back to the jury and studied their faces as Bennett spoke, realizing that Jay could see the same revulsion on their faces that he could. His gut warmed with satisfaction as he realized Jay knew there was a real possibility he would get the death penalty for what he'd done. That he couldn't charm his way out of this one. That twelve women and men, strong and true, held his life in their hands.
When Bennett had finished his closing statement, the Judge turned to the jury and bestowed upon them a beatific smile. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have listened to the arguments of both the defense and the prosecution. If you would kindly retire to deliberate and return to this court when you have reached your decision on the sentencing of Mr Randall. Court adjourned." He banged his gavel and stood, followed by the loud instruction of the bailiff for everyone to rise as the Judge left the courtroom.
They were back inside the air-conditioned courtroom before they'd even had the chance to finish the awful coffee from the vending machine one floor down. Will glanced at Scott and raised his eyebrows in surprise, acknowledging the shake of Scott's head. A quick decision by the jury was not always a good thing. After they had all taken their seats and the jury had filed in, Jay was brought in from a side room and followed the guards to his counsel's table. Will reached across David beside him and put a steadying hand on Marcus's knee as Jay's lips lifted in a cruel sardonic smile as he took his seat. "Don't give him what he wants," Will said softly, giving Marcus's knee a reassuring squeeze, smiling at the way Todd's hand slipped into his lover's to ground him once more. He felt the warmth of Scott's thigh beside him and a sharp wave of longing washed through him, wishing he could as casually touch his own lover the way Todd touched Marcus.
"All rise," the bailiff called out in a loud booming voice as the door to the judge's chambers opened. "This court is now in session. Honorable Judge Slade presiding. Be seated."
Judge Walker turned to the jury and pushed his glasses further onto his nose. "Mrs Foreman, members of the jury, have you reached a decision?"
Will watched as a businesswoman in the front row got to her feet, "Yes, Your Honor."
"And you reached this decision unanimously?"
"We did, Your Honor." The woman handed a piece of paper to the bailiff who passed it to the Judge, who read the same and then nodded to the jury.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you are now dismissed."
Will's stomach churned as the Judge took his time in reviewing the paper in his hand and after what seemed like an hour, but was in reality a minute, if that, he looked over his glasses at Jay and said, "Will the defendant please rise. Mr Randall, do you have anything to say before the sentence is entered into the record?"
"Yes, your honor," Jay said quietly, his voice shaking on the words. Will's gaze narrowed, wondering what the man was going to say. "I'm sorry, so sorry for the decisions I made. For the hurt I caused, to those I loved and who loved me. I know there is nothing I could do to make right what I've done. I took the lives of two of my friends, ruined the life of another and broke the heart of the man who stood beside me. For that I am truly sorry."
"Thank you, Mr Randall, please remain standing," Judge Walker said, leaning back in his chair and keeping his gaze trained on Jay. "Before I read the sentence, which I wholeheartedly agree with, I have a few things I want to say myself. I too have read both of the extensive psychiatric reports by Dr Logan and Dr Brown and, as far as your plea of diminished responsibility due to t
emporary insanity is concerned, I have come to the conclusion that, Mr Randall, if there is anyone more in charge of their faculties than you, I have yet to meet him. You knew exactly what you were doing every step of the way and have shown no remorse for your actions at any point. Your little speech was nothing but the grandstanding of a master manipulator. You used Mr Campbell for your own amusement and gratification and, when Mr. Philips and Mr Webber tried to remove him from the situation, you killed them in cold blood, without hesitation, taking the lives of two young men who had everything to live for, and you almost took Mr. Campbell's spirit in the process."
The judge's gaze shifted from Jay to the men surrounding Todd on all sides and smiled encouragingly. "I am glad to say, you appear to have been unsuccessful in that endeavor and, surrounded by the love and support of the community you so viciously betrayed, I think he's going to be just fine.
"The shootings of Detectives Turner and Harrison were, in my opinion, Mr Randall, the stupidest move you could have made. This Court doesn't take kindly to the attempted murder of our city's officers." He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and began to read. "Jared Andrew Randall, you will serve two life sentences for the murders of Cory Philips and Jon Webber. You will serve no less than 25 years for the rape and torture of Todd Campbell. And you will serve a further 25 years for the attempted murders of Detectives Will Harrison and Scott Turner, all of which are to run consecutively. You will now be taken from here to Rikers Island, where you will be held without the possibility of parole." He closed the papers in front of him and banged his gavel. "Bailiffs remove the prisoner."
Will could tell by the set of Jay's shoulders and the way his fists clenched at his sides that he was not going quietly. He nudged Scott with his shoulder and hissed, "Something's going down." Grateful when Scott stood up with him. He was right.
As the Bailiffs tried to lead Jay from the room, the man wrenched free of their grasp and launched himself toward Todd. Will threw himself in front of Todd and out of the corner of his eye he saw Scott grab Marcus's arms and hold him fast. "You bitch! You think you're free of me? You'll never be free of me!" Jay struggled as the guards grabbed his shoulders, pulling him from the room as he strained to get to Todd. "You're mine! I'll make you scream you whore, do you hear me? I'll make you bleed. It'll never be over! Never!"
"You bastard!" Marcus yelled, held back by Scott and Cal as they dragged Jay through the door to the side rooms and it slammed behind them. "You'll never touch him again! I'll kill you first! I'll kill you first!"
The gavel banged again, sharp repetitive raps, until the furor in the court had subsided. "Mr. Campbell," the Judge said compassionately, his kind gaze level and unwavering on Todd. "I am sorry you were subjected to that, but I can assure you, here and now; you will never see that man again. I wish you all the best, young man. Court dismissed."
Outside the courtroom they huddled together, each man comforting the other. Erik standing tall and strong with his arms around Todd, the other men's arms around the two of them. Scott and Will stood to the side and watched the circle, gentle smiles on their faces, their shoulders pressed together. When Damon and Cal held out their arms, they stepped inside the circle and they all stood quietly together in their relief.
After about ten minutes, Will smiled ruefully and indicated that they had to get back to the station. With more hugs and promises they would stay in touch and, if any of the guys ever needed anything, they knew where to find them; they ignored Brent's mumblings about unpaid parking fines, and took the elevator down to the parking lot beneath the courthouse.
As Will unlocked the SUV, he gasped at Scott's searching hands on his waist, turning him and pressing his back to the side of the car. "What—?" His startled eyes fluttered shut as Scott's lips sealed themselves over his, hungry, desperate almost, his tongue delving deep as he stole his breath. When Scott finally drew back, Will panted harshly, his chest heaving. "Wow, what was that for?"
"Just felt like it," Scott replied, straightening his tie and walking around to the passenger side.
Will climbed behind the wheel and gazed over at Scott, completely stunned. He wasn't used to public displays of affection outside of Laurel Heights, and it had thrown him. Licking his lips, he inserted the key in the ignition and started the car. It must have been the emotion of the sentencing. Yeah, that's what it was. Putting the car into drive, he maneuvered out of the space and drove toward the exit, turning left and heading back to the station.
The ride was silent—too silent. Will kept glancing over at Scott, noting the set of his jaw and the obvious tension in his shoulders. He had his thinking face on, which wasn't always good, and Will couldn't help but wonder what had caused the frown creasing his lover's brow. "We couldn't have asked for a better result. I knew Walker wouldn't be fooled by the temporary insanity crap."
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?" Will asked, pulling into his parking space at the station and setting the handbrake. He turned off the engine and put his hand on Scott's thigh. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm fine," Scott replied, unbuckling his belt and clambering out.
Will watched in amazement as Scott slammed the door and didn't even wait for him to get out before he headed for the elevator and stairwell. "Scott!" Will cursed under his breath and grabbed the files off the backseat before climbing out and locking the car behind him. "Fuck it," he hissed when he skidded to a halt at the elevators. Scott was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't have been waiting long enough for an elevator to arrive, so Will surmised he'd taken the stairs. But why? Something was going on in that illogical head of his, and Will needed to find out before whatever was bothering him festered and got blown completely out of proportion. Stepping into the elevator, he leaned back against the faux granite wall and rode up to the fourth floor, his foot tapping in agitation.
When the doors opened, Will was greeted by balloons, and colleagues dressed in party hats, blowing whistles. Julie and Grace smiled widely and clapped as he walked out of the elevator, catching Scott out of the corner of his eye walking toward them down the corridor from the stairwell. He turned and waited for the other man to join him. He knew his gaze clearly said, "What the fuck?" but Scott only glanced at him briefly and then turned his attention to their captain.
Captain Hall poured some orange juice into two glasses and handed them to the two men. "Congratulations on a job well done, boys. You caught the bad guy and saved the day. I think there may be some commendations coming your way. You guys make quite a team."
"Thanks, Cap," Scott smiled, lifting his glass of orange to his lips, and downing it in one. "Right, back to work," he said briskly and batted a balloon out of his way to sit down at his desk.
Will caught the look that Grace threw him, but all he could do was shrug as he sat down at his own desk, leaning down to switch the computer on and then picking through the pile of files in front of him. He couldn't give her any insight into Scott's mood, because he had no idea what had caused it. Was he annoyed that he'd given in to the urge to kiss Will in the parking lot? Was he now worrying that someone had seen them? Running his hands through his hair, he tried to concentrate on his paperwork.
An hour later, the balloons had been popped, the streamers and glasses cleared, and the phones were ringing off the hook as usual. And Scott had still not looked at Will. Not once. In sixty whole minutes not one glance—not even an accidental meeting of a passing gaze. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Will didn't know how much more of the silent treatment he could take. Stupid Scott 'You have to guess what's wrong with me' Turner. Picking up his cell phone, Will ran off a text, not even raising his head when he heard Scott's cell beep across the way.
Are you going to tell me what's wrong?
His cell vibrated in his hand moments later.
Nothing's wrong.
Liar.
I just need to figure some stuff out for myself.
What stuff?
Can we talk about this later?
&nbs
p; No—what stuff?
Later.
You're freaking me out.
I know. I'm sorry.
Will bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. His stomach was tied in knots and he was, as he'd just said, freaking out. What the hell was going on? They were fine a few hours ago and now suddenly Scott had to 'figure stuff out', what the fuck was that? He was just about to rattle off another reply when Hall came slamming out of his office.
"Harrison! Turner!" he yelled across the room. "There's someone here from the local press. Wants to take a picture of our two top detectives now that they're both back at work. Chief's orders, so come on." He clapped his hands together and nodded to the photographer next to him. "How do you want them?"
The small, dark haired woman smiled appreciatively at both Will and Scott. "Over by the door would be good, then I can get the department logo in the background." She ushered an incredibly quiet Scott and a mildly pissed off Will to where she needed them, and then smiled encouragingly. "Could you turn to each other and shake hands or something? You know, smile, and look like you're happy to be back."
Will turned to Scott and held out his right hand, forcing a smile to his lips. He waited while Scott stared down at his hand, then continued to stare, and then stared a little bit more. "Scott?" Will hissed through his teeth, noting how everyone around them had stopped working to witness the little scene playing out in front of them. "What's wrong with you?" His stomached tightened as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Are you sick?"