by David Archer
The magistrate glanced over at Carson, then poked a holographic button on his display. “It is the decision of this Court that the defendant shall remain in custody, without bail, until such time as he is presented for trial. I will set the trial date for fifteen days from today, at nine AM. This case is adjourned.”
Carson looked at Kate, aghast, as she rose from her seat and approached his booth once more. She stepped inside and took the seat in front of him. “Well, I tried,” she said. “I told you not to get your hopes up about bail.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Carson said. “What was he talking about, something about somebody altering my door logs? I've never fiddled with any of my logs, and wouldn't it be possible to prove whether or not they had been tampered with?”
Kate shook her head. “Unfortunately, not really. Even if we could establish that you wouldn't know how to do it, that doesn't mean you don't know someone who could. You're a professor at the university, after all. I'm sure you know some pretty intelligent students. A good hacker could change those logs and leave no trace whatsoever that they had been altered. If we attack that part of their case, they're simply going to get experts in here who will testify that it's not possible to prove they weren't altered.”
“Okay, then what about the taxi logs? If it says I got home an hour after the door says I did, then that must have been changed. Who would do that?”
His lawyer frowned at him. “Well, it's possible, and I mean just barely possible, that someone is out to set you up and might've done that. It's possible it could even be one of the investigators—such things have happened in the past. Sometimes an investigator decides he knows who the perpetrator is, but can't quite prove it, so he might tamper with the evidence a bit. The trouble is that it would be impossible, and I mean impossible, to prove that an investigator did something like this, so unless you can think of someone else who would want to see you hung on this kind of charge, I don't know what to say.”
Carson sat there silent for a moment, then looked at her again. “Are you trying to tell me there's a chance I may be convicted?”
She shrugged, and made a sympathetic face. “At this point, Professor, I'm afraid it's likely. Unless we can break the victims on their identification, this is not going to go well.”
Carson's face betrayed the shock he was feeling. “I could end up in Justice Net? Dear God, how can this be happening? How bad could it be?”
“With the charges against you? You could be looking at a sentence of up to the maximum, seventy bouts. Now, it's possible the prosecutor will offer a bargain, to get you a lighter sentence in return for pleading guilty. Maybe as low as ten or fifteen bouts: would you consider that?”
“No!” Carson shouted. “I'm not going to plead guilty to something I absolutely did not do!” He suddenly leaned forward and put his face in his hands. “Dear God, I don’t see how I could survive even one bout, let alone ten or fifteen or seventy.” He looked back up at Kate. “We’ve got to go for acquittal. If I’m convicted, it won’t matter how many bouts I’m sentenced to, because I’m as good as dead. What about—what about character witnesses? Have you talked to any of my friends about testifying for me?”
Kate leaned back in her chair and just looked at him for a long moment. “I’ve called everyone you listed on your intake form,” she said, “but no one is willing to get on the witness stand. You’ve got to understand that there is a lot of public opinion that is turned against you right now. Anyone who speaks up on your behalf is going to be marked with a stigma that won’t go away for a long time.”
Carson shook his head, and unbidden tears began to make their slow journey down his cheeks. “This is just unbelievable,” he said. “Our justice system is supposed to be the best ever, but how good can it be when an innocent man can’t even defend himself?” He sat and looked at her silently for a moment, and then closed his eyes.
Kate watched him for another moment and felt her own heart breaking for him. “Okay, then,” she said. “I'm going to do everything I can to make at least two of those victims recant their identification, because that's the only hope we've got. You just need to be prepared for the fact that if I fail, you could be looking at a maximum sentence.”
Carson nodded slowly. “They might as well just sentence me to hang, it's a death sentence either way. I'm not a fighter. I wouldn't have any hope of surviving even one or two fights, let alone seventy, or even ten.” He rubbed his hands over his face, and then looked at her again. “Look, I know this isn't your fault, and you're doing all you can for me, but I'm gonna tell you right now, I'm scared.”
Kate nodded. “You'd better be.”
FIFTEEN
As soon as Carson got back to lockup, he was informed that he could make a call and was taken to a room with an active holoterminal. He called Charlotte immediately, and his heart broke when she burst into tears as soon as she saw him.
“Oh, Carson, what is going on?” Charlotte asked him. “I know you couldn't have done this, I know that, but this is just so—so terrible. They're saying you changed the door logs here to hide the fact that you weren’t home when one of the rapes happened. How could anyone even think that?”
“Honey, I don't know,” he said. “My attorney says it's possible that someone actually rigged the logs to look that way, but there's no way to prove whether that happened or not. She says the only hope I've got is if we can convince the victims to change their minds about whether I was the one who did it. That's what she's going to try to do when I go to trial.”
“Trial? You're actually going to have to go to trial over this?”
“I'm afraid so, honey. The magistrate set the trial for just over two weeks from now, and I've got to be honest with you, it's not looking good. If they convict me—honey, if I'm convicted, she says I could get the maximum sentence, seventy bouts on Justice Net. She even asked me if I'd be willing to take a plea bargain in order to get a lighter sentence, but I just can't bring myself to plead guilty to something I know I didn't do!”
Charlotte's face was a mask of shock. “Seventy bouts? Carson, if they offer you a plea bargain, take it! Baby, you'd never survive seventy fights! I love you, but you're just not a fighter! Maybe if you got a smaller sentence, maybe you could get lucky. I mean, you'd be fighting people in the same class as yourself, right? Maybe they won't be very good fighters, either, and you might have a chance!”
Carson shook his head. “Charlotte, baby, I don't think it would make any difference. Like you said, I'm no fighter. Besides, the only way to survive a sentence is to kill other people, and I just don't know if I could do it. I need to go to trial, and I need you to get everybody we know to pray that I make it through this, that we can prove the victims were bullied into identifying me. That's what my lawyer thinks.”
Charlotte was shaking, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Carson, this can't be happening! We've been talking about the wedding, we were planning to be married! This just can't happen!”
“Charlotte, please, baby, calm down. This is all some kind of a huge mistake, and we've just got to hope that the magistrates on the tribunal will see that. That's all we can do, just pray that we can get the identifications withdrawn and show that this is all a big mix-up.”
Charlotte was still crying. “Maybe—maybe there's something else I can do,” she said. “I know somebody, someone who might be able to help. I'm going to call now and see if there's anything he can do. Can you call me back later? Maybe I'll have some news.”
“I don't know,” he said. “I only get to call when they let me, and they only let me this time because I just came back from my presentment hearing. I'll try to call you as often as I can, but I never know when that will be.”
At that moment, the lockup guard stuck his head in the room. “Pace! Time to get off!”
“My time's up, honey,” Carson said. “I'll call you again as soon as I can. Just keep praying, okay?”
The call ended suddenly, before she could respond,
and Carson sat there and stared at the blank wall for a moment. The guard called him again, and he got up and followed the man down to his cell. The door closed behind him, and Carson sank down onto his bed.
That's when his tears began to flow. Carson had never been one to feel sorry for himself, but this situation was beyond anything he could ever have imagined. He was overwhelmed by the sheer ridiculousness of it, and couldn't imagine how anyone could believe him capable of such acts.
He'd only been back in his cell for about ten minutes when the guard stuck his head in again. “You got a visitor,” the man said. “Step it up, I don't have a lot of time to waste on you.”
Carson got to his feet quickly, stepped to the little sink and quickly splashed water on his face to try to hide the tracks of his tears, then followed the guard out the door and down the hall. He was escorted into a small room that was divided into two sections. The central panel had a glass window, and he was taken through a second doorway and seated in a chair facing the glass. The door was locked, and a moment later Professor Curran stepped into the other side of the room and sat down facing him.
“Ah, Carson,” Curran said. “How have you gotten yourself into this mess?”
Curran's voice came to Carson through a little speaker beside the window. Carson shook his head. “It's crazy, Professor. I can't believe anyone seriously thinks I could do this kind of thing.”
Curran gave him a look that Carson thought of as conspiratorial. “Carson, all three of the victims have positively identified you. Good God, man, couldn't you have contented yourself with all of the coeds who are willing to trade favors for grades? Surely some of them would've enjoyed it rough—you didn't have to resort to rape!”
Carson stared at him. “Professor Curran, I didn't do this! I never touched any of those women, not in any way! Hell, I've turned down sex so many times it's amazing. I'm just not that kind of man. You met Charlotte—she's beautiful, what kind of guy could have a girl like her and want to play stupid, idiotic games like this?”
Curran sat and watched him through his tirade, and a moment later a slow smile broke across his face. “Well, you're not showing any signs that you're lying,” he said. “Frankly, Carson, I didn't believe the charges against you, but I needed to get you riled so that I could read your face. I believe you're telling the truth, but the fact of the matter is that truth does not actually set you free, at least not in the legal sense. The prosecutor has built a case against you that you cannot possibly beat, so I'm afraid you are going to need to shed the man society has made of you, and prepare to become something more primitive.”
Carson opened his mouth three times before any words would come out. “You think I'm going to be convicted?”
Professor Curran pressed his lips together in an expression of sympathy. “Barring some sort of miracle, Carson, there is no doubt of it.”
Carson shook his head. “If they send me into Justice Net, I'm a dead man.”
“Not necessarily,” Curran said. “As long as I have known you, Carson, you have been a very moral man. It's time for you to cast aside your morality, and start thinking about survival. The only hope you have of getting through this situation alive is to focus on the fact that you are an innocent man, but the people you will be fighting are not. No matter what crime they committed that put them into the system, they likely deserve death far more than you do. If you can make yourself understand that, and use the intelligence that I know you have as a weapon, there is a chance that you can survive whatever sentence you get.”
“But it means I'd have to kill someone,” Carson said. “When I was a kid, my dad wanted to take me hunting. I couldn't even bring myself to kill a rabbit, Professor—how could I ever kill a man?”
Curran looked at him for a long moment, then smiled grimly. “Carson, do you know what the foundation of morality is? Morality came into existence during man's early history, as a way to allow the most violent creature ever to exist on the face of the earth to develop communities, tribes. Certain rules, usually handed down by whatever Shaman or priest the people revered, were put into place as a way to lubricate the frictions between individuals. Without them, mankind would probably have driven himself to extinction over the pettiest of jealousies.” He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought. “If this goes badly, you will be going into a situation where morality has no place. You will have to cast off your own morality and become the primitive, violent creature that still exists within your genetic makeup. That is the only chance you have, and I hope most sincerely that you are able to do so.”
Carson looked at his old mentor for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know if I can do that, Professor,” he said.
* * * * *
“Carson? Carson?” Charlotte called his name, but he was gone. She cleared the screen on her holo-tab and punched the icon for Martin. He answered almost immediately.
“Martin, you've got to help me! Carson just called, they're taking him to trial and his lawyer said he's looking at a maximum sentence.”
Martin looked stunned. “You're kidding,” he said. “I did a background check on your guy, and he just doesn't have anything in his record that makes me believe he could be guilty of this. And please, don't be mad at me, I'm just trying to find anything I can to help. A max sentence? That’s seventy fights!”
Charlotte was nodding vigorously. “I know, I know, and there's just no way he would ever live through it. Carson is one of the most gentle people you'd ever meet, I don't think he's ever even been in a fight in his life. He says he doesn't think he could ever bring himself to kill someone, not even to save his own life. If they send him to Justice Net, they might as well just kill him and get it over with.”
“Okay, slow down,” Martin said. “What else did he tell you?”
“He said that his lawyer told him the only chance he's got is if they can get a couple of the witnesses to change their story, say they don't think it was him, after all. He said that's what his lawyer says she's going to try to do.”
Martin nodded. “Yeah, that would make sense,” he said. “If they can even get a couple of them to say they're not sure it was him anymore, that might be enough to get him off on reasonable doubt. At the very least, it might get the magistrate to lower the charge, so he gets a whole lot lighter sentence.”
“If he gets convicted at all, I don't think it will matter. Martin, I think he's giving up. He knows he didn't do this, and so do I, but if he's convicted and sent to the Net, he's a dead man.” A sob slipped out of her. “Oh, Martin, is there anything you can do?”
Martin chewed on his bottom lip, as if he was trying to think of an idea. “The only thing I can think of is to go and talk to the investigator. Maybe I can convince him he's got the wrong guy, and get him to ask for dismissal. Don't get your hopes up, though—it's unlikely he's going to listen to me.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked directly into Charlotte's. “Listen, I'm going to have to swear up and down that I know Carson personally, so if anybody asks you, I'm an old friend of both of you. Got that?”
Charlotte smiled, and nodded rapidly. “Yes! Yes, no problem! We've known each other for two years, let's say that. Would anybody ask Carson? He won't know who you are, I'd hate for him to blow it.”
Martin shook his head. “I don't think there's any risk of that,” he said. “But, Charlotte? Like I said, sweetheart, don't get your hopes up. There's not a real good chance this will work, but I've gotta try, for your sake.”
Her face softened just a bit. “Thank you,” she said. “Martin, I swear, I don't know what I would do without you right now.” Her face turned pink. “Even—even last night, you made me feel so good. I mean, I'd hate for Carson to ever find out about us, but I—I just couldn't be alone.”
Martin grinned flirtatiously. “Well, believe me, the feeling was mutual. I mean, I know I'm not the guy you really love, but I think you can tell that I put everything into it that I possibly can.�
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Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Oh, you did just fine,” she said. “Just between you and me, Carson is the only man I'd ever been with before you, and if I was going to be completely honest, you were a whole lot—better.” She couldn't help herself, and started giggling.
“Well, you just remember that any time you need me, I'll come running. I'm sure it's getting pretty lonely over there, and with all the stress—well, if there's anything I can do…”
Charlotte chewed her bottom lip for a moment, then smiled at him again. “You might come over again tonight,” she whispered softly. “If you want to, I mean. I just—I just hate the thought of being alone, right now.”
Martin smiled. “I'll be over as soon as I get off work,” he said.
They said goodbye, and Martin sat there at his desk for a moment. He had her, he had her hooked and he knew it. She was still living in a fantasy that Carson might come home to her, but Martin knew that was never going to happen. He allowed himself to think about the night before, amazed at all of the things they had done that she found completely new and exciting. Carson must be one of the dullest lovers of all time.
He waved his hand over his desk in the pattern that called up his HD, and put in a call to Inspector Lewis Hansen, giving the desk sergeant a false name. He wanted to be able to tell Charlotte honestly that he had spoken to the investigator, even though he had no intention of trying to help Carson get out of the charges against him. The sooner that geeky professor went into the Net and got himself killed, the sooner Charlotte would give herself completely to Martin, and he had already decided that he would ask her to marry him as soon as she was starting to recover from the loss. Meanwhile, he'd be happy to keep her bed warm.
“Inspector Hansen? This is Detective Inspector John Harrison. I'm calling about one of your current cases, the rape case. Your suspect is Carson Pace?”
Hansen narrowed his eyes. “Yes? What can I do for you, Inspector?”