by Aiden Bates
"No." She swallowed and scratched at her arm. "I'm good. It's been a long time. I should talk about it, I think. I'm not ashamed of what I did. It was him or me."
Ozzy didn't doubt it. He nodded, but he still felt like he needed to say something about the situation. "You were sixteen."
"Still him or me." She shrugged. "He'd picked me up a few times, legally. He knew what I was, and he knew who I was. He knew where I lived. Turned out he was working for Joe. When Joe decided that he wanted to bring me in house, he sent Sierzant to bring me in.
"He used to do that with a lot of folks. If you said no, a cop would pretend to arrest you. Either you accepted that you had a pimp now or no one ever saw you again. I said no, and we went for a long drive. He dragged me out of my car by my hair, and he threw me up against the trunk. He started grabbing at my skirt, saying that at least someone might as well get some use out of me before he put a bullet in me."
"So you shot him." Ozzy looked down.
"I wrestled to get him off of me. When I got the gun out of his hand, I saw the opportunity. I pretended I was throwing it away and he fell for it. When he turned around I shot him in the back of the head. I'm not sorry. I'd do it again. It might not have been much of a life, and it still might not be much of a life, but that doesn't mean it was okay for him to just take it, you know?" She wiped at her eyes. "It wasn't right for him to shoot me, or to force me."
"No." Ozzy shook his head. "It wasn't. And I don't know…" He trailed off, at a loss for words. If she'd come forward at the time of the attack, no one would have believed a teenaged hooker over a decorated cop. As it was now, she would best be described as a "non-credible witness." Her only saving grace was the huge network of dirty cops being unearthed, and the emerging notoriety of her ultimate tormentor. "I don't know if things could have gone any other way. I'm going to bring your confession to the prosecutor. I don't know what he's going to decide. I'm hoping that he'll go for a lesser charge, if anything."
She wrinkled her nose, taking years off of her appearance. "Why? I killed someone."
"You did. I've killed people too, in war. It's not a fun decision to make, and it's not always something you have a lot of time to think about. But Dawn, I think that Sierzant has made you suffer enough. I'm not making you any promises, okay? I'm just one guy. But I'm going to do what I can."
She stared at him for a long moment, and then she nodded. "Thank you."
Ozzy went back to the prosecutor with Dawn's confession. He brought the crime scene photos, the autopsy report, and the testimony from Balsalmo and other people caught in Sierzant's web. Together, he and the prosecutor called up Dawn's defense attorney. She was surprised to hear from them, but got together with them over dinner. Together, all three of them approached the presiding judge in the case.
The case didn't get a lot of publicity. Most of the press was, quite reasonably in Ozzy's mind, much more interested in following the dirty cop story. There weren't many people in the courtroom when Dawn's hearing was held. Ozzy was there, though, sitting right behind Dawn at the prosecutor's table. Mary sat beside him, and Pete on his other side.
They all rose for the judge's entrance. The judge sat down and cleared his throat as the docket was read. "All right. This is a highly unusual case. I received a visit not only from the prosecutor, and not only from the defense attorney, but from both of them at the same time, in conjunction with the lead detective on the case. This doesn't happen, my friends.
"But it did happen. They took the time to explain to me the facts of the case in full, right down to minor forensic details that put me to sleep faster than three glasses of Cognac. It was all very useful information, but the fact of the matter is that Ms. Moriarty has confessed to killing Officer Harbaugh. She has pled guilty, and I therefore must find her guilty of first degree manslaughter no matter what the extenuating circumstances." He held up his hand to forestall the outrage he no doubt saw on everyone's face.
"However," he continued, "the crime was committed when the defendant was a juvenile. While Ms. Moriarty's record hasn't been exemplary since the incident, her issues haven't been violent, and her record for the past five years has been pristine. I do declare that the crime will be entered into her sealed juvenile record. No custodial sentence is ordered. I might recommend an extension of her probation, since reports seem to suggest that this is a helpful and supportive relationship for Ms. Moriarty to have. Is this agreeable to all parties?"
The prosecutor rose, looking stunned. "The Commonwealth is satisfied with this judgment, your Honor."
The defense attorney rose. "The defense agrees to these terms, and we thank your Honor."
It was the fairest possible outcome. Dawn was released, and she shook Ozzy’s hand afterward. "Thank you," she said, with tears in her eyes. "I mean it. Thank you. No one's ever done anything for me before, but this… this takes the cake."
"We're supposed to be about justice," Ozzy told her, blushing. "All of us." He gestured to the courtroom. "Good luck, Dawn. If you need anything, you've got my number."
Dawn let Pete do a photographic essay about her afterward. They made some money off of the project, but that wasn't the purpose. The project had two goals: to boost employability of previously convicted people, thus reducing the stigma and helping people get back onto their feet, and to help boost the image of the state police in the wake of the scandal.
Sierzant wasn't saved by the DNA. He hadn't killed Harbaugh, but he'd ordered the killing of countless others. He was convicted on racketeering charges within two months of being taken. The time to trial seemed almost absurdly fast to Ozzy, but he guessed that the judicial system wanted to wrap up the case and throw it into the landfill too. He was sentenced to life. When he appealed, he was sentenced to consecutive life sentences, and he gave up appeals after that.
Pete visited him in prison. Ozzy thought that was weird. Ozzy tried to forbid it, which led to a loud fight and more couch time, but they made up. Apparently Pete liked the guy, in spite of the whole kidnapping and near death thing. Furthermore, he didn't think that leaving Sierzant to twist would bring the good guys any more information, or bring Sierzant any kind of epiphany.
So he visited, and Ozzy fretted. Sierzant soon started up a little empire behind bars, which didn't surprise anyone. He was charismatic. He could sucker anyone into doing anything that he wanted. It wasn't long, though, before the warden was calling Ozzy. "I think your omega's missed his calling, Pulitzer prizes be damned. You want to know what Sierzant has his little band of miscreants doing?"
"Let me guess. They've all found God." Ozzy had a dim view of jailhouse conversions.
"No. No, as a matter of fact. They're trying to intervene in inmate disputes. Some of them are getting hurt doing it, but they keep trying. Some of these guys are probably doing it for brownie points with the parole board, but some of these guys aren't going anywhere, you know? They're here until Gabriel blows his horn and all that. But they keep trying. And it's working, some of the time."
"Okay." Ozzy pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a long moment. "What does any of this have to do with my Pete?"
"None of it was happening before he started showing up for visits with Sierzant."
Huh. Ozzy wasn't sure what to make of that. He didn't trust Sierzant, and he was sure that he had an ulterior motive. But the idea that Pete could be having a positive effect on these guys warmed his heart.
Massachusetts had 2,300 state troopers. Ten percent of that force wound up getting spatter on them from the scandal, although not all of it related to Sierzant. The highest concentration was in Troop C, the troop in the middle part of the state, with a healthy dose in Troop B, which covered the western part. Worcester didn't emerge unscathed, either. They had 417 officers. Thirty-five turned out to be working for Sierzant, all patrolmen. None of that took into account retirees.
The union barked about the first couple of cops who got prosecuted. When they saw the evidence as it mounted,
aided by those officers who changed sides when Pete got kidnapped, they changed their tune. They demanded to see actual hard evidence for any union members implicated, which only made sense, but they admitted in the press that those cops who had gone bad only made the job more dangerous for the good cops.
As fall rolled around and families started to prepare for Thanksgiving, Ozzy let himself into his car one evening only to find it occupied. He recognized the spotted hands on the back of the passenger seat. "Well, well, if it isn't Russ Meyrick."
Meyrick chuckled. "I'm impressed."
"I've been wanting to talk to you," Ozzy said. "Been wanting to talk with you for a few months now, actually."
"I'll bet." Meyrick sighed. "Look. I'm sorry that I ever said yes, okay? My folks were going to lose their house, and I got greedy."
"Thank you."
Meyrick fell silent for a long moment. "Excuse me?"
"The doctor, when we got Pete to the hospital. She couldn't say what caused the infection, although she did say that your surgery skills needed work. What she did say was that you saved his life, when you stitched him up. Yeah, he got an infection, but he'd have bled out if you hadn't. And you made sure that he got to help in time. So, thank you."
"You're welcome." Meyrick went quiet for a moment. "Look. I know you're supposed to bring me in."
"Never saw you."
"I'm glad he's okay," Meyrick said. "I liked him. He has spirit. He's got a lot of strength, that one."
Ozzy knew he must be glowing. "Yeah. Yeah he does." He smiled into the rear view mirror. "You take care, Meyrick. You know how to find me."
"I do."
Ozzy closed his eyes and listened as the last part of that chapter of his life faded away. Then he started up his car and drove home to his omega.
<<<<>>>>
Bonus Chapter 16
Pete held Marissa's tiny hand and balanced Adrian on his hip. They'd just finished a picnic out on the back patio and were now ready to come in and wash off the remains of said picnic. Adrian the one most in need of washing. He was new to solids and preferred to explore texture by smearing it onto his face rather than ingest it. Marissa was no innocent. Mustard made a kind of grotesque mask spread across her pretty little face.
Sometimes Pete wondered about her biological father, but not often. He wouldn't have appreciated the wonder that was Marissa. He'd have been horrified by the way she'd come into the world, and he'd have been appalled by her spirit. Her real father adored her.
They headed into the house. Ozzy had just gotten home from the Police Unity Tour. Ozzy was a fit guy. No one could take that away from him. The muscles used to cycle from Framingham to Washington, DC, were different from the ones he used to heli-ski, or to rock climb, or to charge at suspects while carrying a hundred pounds of equipment or whatever it was. He was tired, and he was sore, and he was not feeling up to sitting on a blanket on cold fieldstone.
All of that was fine. Pete could do it alone. He didn't resent it, not when he knew that he had backup. His mom was down the road, and Angus was with her. They'd both learned how to handle the kids over the years and had proved adept caregivers in a pinch. "Gamma," in particular, was a favorite. Ruth was around, even though it was her day off. She wouldn't mind pitching in if things really hit the fan.
For that matter, Ozzy would rouse himself and push through the pain if things truly went pear shaped. Pete just didn't want him to have to.
He got the kids upstairs and into the bath. They were both sweet natured kids, and cooperated with the washing-up pretty easily. This was a good thing, considering that both of them seemed to delight in situations that got them grimier than he'd have thought possible before becoming a father.
Once he got them dressed again, and found dry clothes for himself, he brought them both downstairs. Ozzy found it comforting to be with his kids, even when he couldn't necessarily chase after them as much as he liked to do. Pete settled Adrian in his father's arms and let Marissa climb into Ozzy's lap with a book. She opened the book and proceeded to read it to him, which still delighted Ozzy to no end even though she'd read it to him every day for a week before he left for the Police Unity Tour.
Adrian, though. Adrian looked at his big sister like she'd hung the moon. For him, she had.
Pete headed toward the kitchen. It wasn't too early to start dinner, and this early in the season it still got cool enough that he could still serve the stews and casseroles that he loved. He got out the ingredients that he needed, and he wasn't surprised to see Marissa push her Learning Tower closer to his workspace so that she could climb up and watch. She loved her parents equally, but she was fascinated by the alchemy of the kitchen and loved to watch meals take shape under Pete's capable hands.
Pete wouldn't lie. He found the whole thing pretty flattering.
He chopped up some onion and measured out milk, butter, and flour for the béchamel. He thought hat a vegetarian lasagna would be nice for dinner tonight, something good for spring but still hearty for the chill in the air that came with May. He let his daughter crush up the garlic; he hated the thought of her getting hurt, but there wasn't much she could do to hurt herself with a garlic press.
The buzzer at the gate rang through the whole house, just as it had been designed to. Pete frowned and went over to his tablet, first wiping his hands on his apron. "Hello?" he said, after pressing on the app.
"Hi." The face on the screen was distorted from looking into the camera, which gave a weird sort of fish-eyed image back to the viewer. "I'd like to see my son, please." The speaker was an older male, probably in his sixties, and wore a clerical uniform.
"Well, you're not my father, so I'll have to check with my Alpha." He beckoned Marissa down silently from the tower and carried the tablet into the TV room, where Ozzy was watching the Sox on TV.
Ozzy frowned when Pete muted the TV. "I've got a guy here looking for his son?" Pete said, and passed the tablet over to his alpha.
Ozzy took the tablet, his eyebrows drawn together. When he saw the face on the screen he froze. "Dad?"
"Would it be all right to drive up?" the stranger asked. "I think four years is long enough don't you?"
"Can you be civil?" Ozzy pressed his lips together.
The man on the screen paused. "I can only do my best, son."
"I will not hesitate to throw you out." Ozzy swiped right on the app, opening the gate long enough to admit the one car.
After a few moments, the stranger appeared at the front door. Pete wasn't sure what to expect, and he knew that his anxiety transmitted itself to his children. Marissa was uncharacteristically silent, and Adrian was chewing on his pacifier like there was no tomorrow. Ozzy had passed both children off to him while he got up to attend to his father.
Gary Morris turned out to be a moderately tall man. He was attractive, if one were into older men, with loose gray curls down to his earlobe and a little goatee. He was thin, and his eyes were only for his son. "Ozzy," he said. "I've been thinking about you."
"Glad to hear it, Dad." Ozzy's jaw clenched. "Let me introduce my omega, Pete. These are your grandchildren, Marissa and Adrian."
Gary's pupils constricted, just a little, but he kept his mouth shut and shook Marissa's hand. "I am very pleased to meet you, young miss. How old are you now? Nine? Ten?"
Marissa giggled. "I'm three and a half. I'll be four in August!"
"Well that's a good age." Gary straightened up. "Ozzy. It's been four years. Don't you think it's time to come home?"
"I am home." Ozzy clenched his jaw. "You can be a part of my family, or you can chose to not do that, but I am home." He gestured to the sofa. "Sorry for the disarray. I just got back from the Police Unity Ride yesterday. I'm a little frazzled."
"Was it down a cliffside?" Gary asked.
Pete snickered.
Ozzy pretended to glare, but wrapped an arm around him. "No. It's to commemorate the officers who've fallen in the line of duty, and raise money for the memorial. Don't trivia
lize it. So. How's Mom? And Zack?"
"They're well. You know, living their lives." The pair fell into silence again, and Pete wondered if he shouldn't get the children out of the way. Then Gary spoke again. "Son, I'm sorry."
Ozzy's eyes bulged. "Sorry?"
"I should have accepted your choices from the beginning. You're an adult. You have the right to be treated like an adult. Not like a child. I might not always like the choices that you make, but then again, you had a lot of good points to make. I was acting badly. I was acting without compassion, without understanding, and without knowledge. Please forgive me."
Ozzy was on his feet in a heartbeat. He all but tackled his father, wrapping him up in his strong arms tightly enough that Pete almost felt jealous. He understood the arrears, though, and tried to keep his angst to a minimum.