Law & Order: Race Affairs Unit (Worldwar TL)

[Geekhis Khan]

Repost of my Law & Order/Worldwar TL fan-fic crossover at fan request. The original discussion TL can be seen here.

Enjoy!

GK...

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The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to current events is strictly coincidental.

In the criminal justice system, offenses involving members of the Race contain inherent diplomatic concerns. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these special cases are members of an elite squad known as the Race Affairs Unit. These are their stories.

{Dun-Dun}


Law & Order: Race Affairs Unit


Episode 14: Kosher Spice Export Company

Part I: the Body


E. Grand St. near the corner of Essex, Lower East Side

Early morning. Two garbage men are handling the hydraulic lifting of a dumpster. Their garbage truck beeps annoyingly.

Older Garbage Man: ...and so she's hassling me over going to the nudie bar and I says to her: "when I married you I was expecting a life's partner, not the frigging Fleet Lord."

Younger Garbage Man: Man, that's why I ain't never getting colonized like that. Bachelor's life doing good for me, squad mate.

Older Garbage Man: There you go with that damned Lizard Talk. Kids. My daddy fought to keep those scaly bas...

Younger Garbage Man (interrupting): *Hiss* Hold that thought, man. We got bigger problems!

The younger man points to the body of a Race member lying in a dried pool of blood, revealed when the dumpster was lifted.

{cut scene}

Sirens and radio chatter. Yellow crime scene tape. Lieutenants Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak duck under the tape. Fitzsimmons wears a navy blue trench coat against the winter cold and carries a Styrofoam cup of coffee. T'Surlak wears a child's parka that covers his Detective body paint pattern. His badge is on its neck-strap holder. They approach the crime scene investigator at the body.

Det. Fitzsimmons: What's the story on this one, Sal?

Sal: Race male, roughly 26 Tosev years. Body paint matches that of a Chef's Assistant. A single stab wound to the Vvvrrglai artery by a small bladed weapon, possibly a stiletto or a Race gharklil knife. Hip pouch is empty, but contains substantial traces of ginger. No ID.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Single stab the the artery; not just a ginger mugging from the sound of it; professional hit?

Sal: That's the going theory. Could be the Mongooses out 'bagging Snakes'. Possibly ran afoul of El Lagarto for selling ginger on his turf.

Det. T'Surlak: That's not Chef's Assistant body paint.

Det. Fitzsimmons: What?

Sal: Hey, I'm not novice and neither is Maria the BP spec. What do you see that we don't, Detective?

Det. T'Surlak: See the lateral red zig-zag? It should go from the vroian indent to the fourth subvroian scale row but it overlaps at both ends.

Det. Fitzsimmons: So our victim's a shoddy dresser. I assume it's hard to paint when you're hopped up on Chinese food.

Det. T'Surlak: No, Dan, this is too precise. Besides, I've seen this before. I think we're looking at a buried paint job.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Care to fill us Big Uglies in on the Lizard Lingo?

Det. T'Surlak: It's an Old World method of showing your allegiance to a secret society, kind of like Big Ugly gang sign. The differences to the basic body paint are slight: you'll only see them if you're looking.

Sal: So, El Lagarto's gang?

Det. T'Surlak: No. His gang uses their own custom paint schemes.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Fits better than a leather jacket, I'd guess.

Det. T'Surlak (ignoring his partner): This must be a brand new Race gang...or worse.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part II: The Investigation


Back at the precinct. Telephones ringing, cross-talk, yelling, papers shuffling. Perps arguing.

Pimp: man, I want my phone call. I got me rights, you know!

Cop: yea, two rights and a left from the look of your girl's black eye.

Detective Fitzsimmons walks past and on up to the Race Affairs office. He carries two cups. He comes up to Detective T'Surlak's desk. Detective T'Surlak is typing at the computer with one hand and eye turret, and going through a stack of Race mug shots with the other. Fitzsimmons places one of the cups on the desk for T'Surlak.

Det. Fitzsimmons: here you go: one Qwerg with low-fat soy and extra salt. How's the perp search? *interrogative cough*

Det. T'Surlak: no luck so far on finding our Jhraal Doe, but check out the pics in that stack [points].

Det Fitzsimmons puts down his cup and picks up the stack. He starts going through the pics while T'Surlak takes a sip from the Qwerg.

Det. T'Surlak: *Hiss* Great Emperors Past, this Qwerg tastes like crap. Big Uglies always under-roast the pods.

Det. Fitzsimmons: go figure; we like our coffee slightly below charcoal. OK, I give. What's with these Lizards?

Det T'Surlak: every one of them has a slightly wider lateral stripe in the immediate sub-vroian.

Det. Fitzsimmons (flipping through the papercliped reports): 'ginger', 'ginger', 'vagrancy', 'disturbing the peace', 'ginger'...sound like mostly small-time crimes. Not a one of these even had enough ginger for 'intent to distribute'.

Det. T'Surlak: that's the kicker. None of these five or our victim had any ties to one another that might indicate gang connections. Only one of those lived in the Lower East. Two live in Queens, one in the Bronx, one in Jersey. If they're a gang they're good at keeping their connections isolated.

Det. Fitzsimmons: but not good at keeping a small lick of ginger out of sight when vice walks by.

Det. T'Surlak: I know...it makes no sense! *emphatic cough*

Lt. VanBuren walks up with a dossier and drops it on the desk.

Lt. VanBuren: here's your autopsy. You're going to love this! [sits on the edge of the desk]

Det. Fitzsimmons (picking up dossier and flipping through): Ok, 'death by massive bleeding due to sharp trauma.'

Det. T'Surlak: wow, how'd they guess?

Det. Fitzsimmons (ignoring partner): '...ginger in blood,' naturally. 'No major traumas' other than the stab wound...real barn-burners so far...

Lt. VanBuren: it gets better.

Det. Fitzsimmons: '...notable scaring from former traumas consistent with...combat operations?'

Det. T'Surlak: [speaks animatedly in Race] Why in the hell would a Chef's Assistant bear battle scars? *interrogative cough*

Lt. VanBuren: answer that one and you win the new Pontiac.

Det. Fitzsimmons: changed his line of work?

Det. T'Surlak: no. *emphatic cough* The Race doesn't work that way. A job's pretty much for life, for generations. Unless the scars are just a coincidence we're looking at a military person who chose to disguise himself as a lowly Chef's Assistant. Got an ID yet, chief?

Lt. VanBuren: They're working on the microscale identification as we speak.

Up walks an intern with a stack of papers and hands them to Lt. VanBuren. She reads them.

Lt. VanBuren: we have positive ID: Chef's Assistant Vhrahu, last known working address: Lee Ho Fooks, Broad and Pike.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Great. I could go for Dim Sung.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part III: the Suspect

{Dun-Dun}


Lee Ho Fook's Chinese Take-Out, Chinatown

Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak enter the small customer area of the Chinese takeout place. Inside, proprietor Lee is behind a counter arguing in Mandarin with someone in the kitchen. The detectives walk up to the counter, flashing their badges.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Mr. Fook, I presume?

Lee: it's Mr. Lee! Stupid Devils always get it backwards. (notices badges) Sorry, Mr. Policeman. Look, I tell you guys, I have Ginger License, see (points to wall) right there! All paperwork up to date!

Det. T'Surlak: we're not here about your ginger permit, Mr. Lee.

Det. Fitzsimmons: do you have a member of the Race working for you; goes by 'Chef's Assistant Vhrahu'?

Lee (scowling): what did that stupid Scaly Devil do this time?

Det T'Surlak: this time?

Det. Fitzsimmons (holding up a police sketch of Vhrahu): this him?

Lee: yea, that him. Always cause trouble, that one. Show up late, steal ginger. I tell my son never hire Scaly Devils, but he don't listen.

A young man with a chef's hat, presumably Lee's son, pokes his head through the order window.

Lee, jr.: Come on, dad, Vhrahu never stole any damned ginger! He did a little, yea; what Lizard in NYC doesn't? But he never stole. I kept tabs on it just like you told me.

Lee: he stole ginger! You know he stole ginger!

The Lees break into a heated argument in Mandarin.

Det. Fitzsimmons: whoa, whoa, hold on there! We're not here about ginger. We're here about Vhrahu.

Det.T'Surlak (eye turrets wiggling with obvious annoyance): when did you last see him?

Lee: Last Tuesday. He leave early after fight with Mongoose!

Det. T'Surlak: a fight?

Lee, jr.: Yea. *emphatic cough* The Mongooses are always up in his snout. They hang in this part of Chinatown. They'd yell at him to 'go home' and stuff.

Det. Fitzsimmons: so, on Tuesday he had another such altercation?

Lee, jr.: yea, Weasel Johnson was all in his face, pushing him around, waving an ice pick at him.

T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons exchange a glance.

Lee, jr (continuing): Vhrahu was real hissed and all, like, ready to fight, but didn't. Good thing, too. A Chef's Assistant don't got the training to fight. He looked like he wanted to real bad, though.

Det. T'Surlak: and where might we find Mr. 'Weasel'?

Lee, jr.: Seward Park down near the projects, usually. Um, why do you ask?

Det. Fitzsimmons: thank you, gentlemen, that will be all.

The detectives walk out and head down the street.

Det. T'surlak: thank the Emperors Past we're out of there. The smell of ginger was horrible.

Det. Fitzsimmons: you hate that stuff, don't you?

Det. T'Surlak: bad memories. Vowed never to touch that stuff and never have.

Det. Fitzsimmons: well, this 'Weasel' sounds like a 'person of interest' to me.

Det. T'Surlak: *emphatic cough* what gave him away? The 'brandishing a weapon' remarkably similar to the suspected murder weapon a few hours before Forensics placed the time of death? Or are we 'profiling' here?

Det. Fitzsimmons: wise-ass Lizard.

Det. T'Surlak: Big Ugly bastard.

Det. Fitzsimmon (after a pause): you up for hot dogs? My treat.

Det. T'Surlak: extra salt, no toppings; thanks.

{cut scene}

A group of young men are lounging around a bench in a park. Shoddy project towers loom behind. They all wear camouflage jackets with cutoff sleeves and a cartoon mongoose with a dead Race member in its jaws on the back. All have very feathered-out hair and beards as if attempting to separate themselves from the clean-shaven Lizard Boys. In the center is a tall man with a weasel tattoo on the forearm. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak approach.

Weasel: hey, what have we here?

Mongoose 1: looks like Inspector Kloo brought us a Snake!

Mongoose 2: hey Snake! You must got a death wish to walk up to the Mongeese!

Det. T'Surlak (flashing badge): it's Detective, and I believe the plural you're looking for is 'Mongooses'.

Det. Fitzsimmons (to Weasel): Mr. 'Weasel' Johnson I presume? We'd like to have a few words with you about...

Weasel bolts and the other Mongooses scatter.

Det. Fitzsimmons: always the hard way!

Foot chase ensues through the park and the spaces between the project towers. Eventually Det. T'Surlak catches up. Weasel takes a swing. Det. T'Surlak flips him to his back with a body-throw. Det. Fitzsimmons catches up. They start to cuff Weasel.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Mr. Johnson, you are under arrest for obstruction of justice and assaulting an officer.

Det. T'Surlak (digging a bag of off-white powder out of Weasel's coat pocket and taking a sniff): and possession of narcotics in amounts suggesting intent to distribute and... (digs out a rusted icepick) ...possession of a concealed weapon.

Det. Fitzsimmons (lifting Weasel to his feet): 'You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney, you have...'

{dramatic music; slow fade out}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part IV: The Interrogation


At the Interrogation Room, off-white walls and one-way glass observation window. Weasel Johnson is kicked back in his chair attempting with partial success to hide fear under a facade of disinterested boredom and annoyance. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak sit across the table.

Det. Fitzsimmons: 'doin' stuff', eh? Care to be a little more clear where you were Wednesday night?

Weasel: get off my back, pig! I ain't sayin' nothin' 'till my lawyer gets here!

Det. T'Surlak: if you have a witness as to your whereabouts it can only help you, Mr. Johnson.

Weasel: oh, 'only help me?' Is that so, you freakin' Snake? You know what I do to Snakes?

Det. Fitzsimmons: oh, do tell, please.

Det. T'Surlak: hostile behavior will not help you, on the other hand, Mr. J...

Weasel (interrupting): you wanna see hostile? I'll...just go away, you damned Snake! Go back where you came from!

Det. T'Surlak: you mean Brooklyn?

The door opens. A large, bearded man in a suit appearing so much a biker in lawyer's clothing comes in. Lt. VanBuren is with him.

Lawyer: if you're done harassing my client, Detectives...?

Det. Fitzsimmons: oh, we're just getting started. Care to join us? We'll make coffee.

Lawyer (handing him a blue affidavit): no thank you, Detective, we won't be staying long. This is an order for release from your 'fair graces'.

Lt. VanBuren: seems that at the time of the murder Mr. Johnson and his gang were busy tearing up a Race Foods market...CCTV captured the whole thing.

Lawyer: let's go, Bobby.

Weasel: thank god. This damn Snake's smell was setting off my sinuses.

Det. T'Surlak (waggling eye-turrets in annoyance): peace be upon you too, Mr. Johnson.

Lt. VanBuren: but don't get too eager to leave, gentlemen. Your client still had several ounces of heroin on his possession.

Lawyer: planted, I'm sure.

Lt. VanBuren: Officer Cowell here will take you down to Vice.

The Lawyer and Weasel walk off with a uniformed officer. The Lieutenant closes the door as they leave. She and the detectives are alone in the interrogation room. She takes Weasel's old seat and flops a dossier on the table.

Lt. VanBuren: this is for the better anyway. The icepick was clean. The good news, however, is right there before you.

Det. T'Surlak picks up the dossier and starts reading through it, scanning with both eye-turrets.

Lt. VanBuren: you remember those threads CSI found on the body?

Det. Fitzsimmons: vaguely.

Det. T'Surlak (reading): you're kidding me... (hands paper to Fitzsimmons)

Det. Fitzsimmons (reading): 'black wool threads, thread patterns corresponding to a standard pattern in Hasidic rekel coats'...a Hasidim?

Det. T'Surlak: check this one out: 'hairs found on the body correspond to those of facial hair, likely a beard. DNA corresponds to a young male of Russian or Ukrainian Jewish ancestry.' Yep, it's a Black Hat.

Det. Fitzsimmons: you've got to be kidding. A Hasidim?

Lt. VanBuren: it gets better. Check out the report on the ginger.

Det. T'Surlak (reading): '...chemical and spectral analysis show esters and alcaloids found in ratios common to southwest Java...specific licensed ginger distributors known to import ginger from this region limited to...blah, blah...Goldblum Kosher Foods, inc., NYC'.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I guess we've found our next stop.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part V: the New Lead


{Dun-Dun}

Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak are in an unmarked sedan, Fitzsimmons driving.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I can't believe a Black Hat whacked the Lizard. Those guys are all piety and humility.

Det. T'Surlak: Remember those horror stories you told me about Catholic School? 'The Pit' was a term I believed you used. And then the whole fracas around, who was that, Father Mac-Somethingoranother?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Yea? So?

Det. T'Surlak: Aren't priests supposed to be a 'piety and humility' too? Killers don't come with a dress code.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Touche.

Det T'Surlak: Then again, killers in your cowboy movies tend to wear black hats...

Det. Fitzsimmons: just...stop it.

Det. T'Surlak opens his jaws in humor.

Fitzsimmons pulls over the car.

Det. Fitzsimmons: here we are, West 64th.

They walk up to a non-descript brick building with a blue and white sign reading 'Goldblum Kosher Foods, inc.' They enter. An attractive young woman in a Hasidic blouse and skirt is behind a reception desk.

Receptionist: good morning, gentlemen, how may I... (notices the Detectives' badges)

Det. Fitzsimmons: just a few quick questions, ma'am. Can we speak to a manager?

Receptionist: one second. (Hits an intercom button) Mr. Goldblum? There's a mensch and an iaschie from the police to see you. (turns back to the detectives) One minute and Mr. Goldblum will see you.

Det. T'Surlak: Danke, meidele. You do an iashie recht.

A large, white-bearded man in Hasidic clothes, undoubtedly Goldblum, walks up and extends a hand to both detectives.

Goldblum: greetings, detectives. To what do I owe this honor?

Det. Ftizsimmons: Mr. Goldblum, you seem like a man who doesn't like to kibbutz, so I'll cut to the chase. A member of the Race was found dead, murdered, and your ginger was found on him.

Goldblum: what? How do you know it's my ginger?

Det. T'Surlak: can we talk somewhere private, Mr. Goldblum?

{Cut scene}

Mr. Goldblum's office. View of 64th street. Pictures of Israel on the wall next to family photos. Goldblum is flipping through the documents the detectives brought.

Goldblum: that looks bad, no doubt about it. I can't imagine how he got the ginger. We never sell to the Race. And you see the permit's in order.

Det. T'Surlak: what exactly is the nature of your business, Mr. Goldblum?

Goldblum: we import and export kosher foods and spices. What it says on the label, really.

Det. Fitzsimmons: you do a lot of business with the Empire, I'd assume?

Goldblum: well, yes. Kind of unavoidable when they control most of the spice lands, you know. Of course we do a lot of business with Israel, as you might imagine. But no ginger sales to the Race or into Race lands. We only import strictly legal and regulated ginger for human customers.

Det. Fitzsimmons: perhaps one of your employees is not as honest as yourself?

Goldblum (shrugs): who knows? We keep careful tab of the amount of ginger that enters and leaves the building and account for any discrepancy, all within the laws, but if someone skims a gram here and there or sweeps up the stuff left in the grinders, how could we know?

Det. T'Surlak: would you or your employees be willing to submit to DNA testing?

Goldblum: meh, why not? I'll give you a hair now if you...

Det. Fitzsimmons (interrupting): forensics will take care of that. We'll have them set up a time.

{cut scene}

The detectives are leaving the building.

Det. Fitzsimmons: well, that was informative.

Det. T'Surlak: think he's telling the truth?

Det. Fitzsimmons: he looked honest, but so did Mayor Lucini. Hey, you up for a bagel?

Det. T'Surlak: how can you eat that crap? Maybe if they have some lox. Add enough salt it's not too bad.

Det. Fitzsimmons: you know...we could cut through... (motions with his head towards the loading dock of Goldblum's. T'Surlak nods and they walk the perimeter of the building.)

Walking through the alley they see motion. Investigating, they see a young Hasidim violently yanking a disheveled Race member away from the building. He chucks the Race member to the curve. The Race member has badly smeared body paint.

Hasidim: and stay out, you verdampt Ginger-head!

Ginger Head: back off, Big Ugly! I was jus' walkin' through!

Hasidim: you know what happens when you come sniffing around here, Lizard!

Ginger Head: what, you'll stab me like you did the other one?

Det. Fitzsimmon: alright, keep it calm. What's going on here?

Hasidim (looking shocked): nothing, officer. Just evicting a trespasser. (He beats a hasty retreat into the shop).

Det. T'Surlak (quietly): suspicious activity with probable cause for search?

Det. Fitzsimmons: nah, let's chat up the Spice Girl. (walks up to Ginger Head) Hey, pal! A few words?

Det. T'Surlak (in Race): <Greetings, Office Assistant. Hard day with the Big Uglies? [interrogative cough]>

Ginger Head: <Greetings, Detective. I, really...by the Emperor (his eye turrets drop; notably, T'Surlak's do not) I was just walking...>

Det. T'Surlak: <forget about it. Instead we have some questions about the black hat you spoke with.>

Ginger Head: <can we speak in front of the Big Ugly?>

Det. Fitzsimmons (also in Race): <don't mind me, Office Assistant.>

Det. T'Surlak: <you mentioned he'd 'stab you like the other one'. Care to elaborate? [interrogative cough]>

Det. Fitzsimmons: <play nice and I might just forget to take a look in that pouch on your belt.>

Ginger Head: <by the Emperor (eye turrets downcast) they'll kill me!>

Det. Fitzsimmons: <we can always continue this discussion in the precinct...>

Ginger Head: <okay! Okay...you didn't hear this from me, but the word on the street is that that guy stabbed this new Race member no one had ever seen before, like a cook or something. 'Hatchling,' fresh off the water transport, probably.>

Det. T'Surlak: <and is there any word on who saw this?>

Ginger Head hesitates.

Det. Fitzsimmons (picking up cell phone and pretending to make a call): hello, Ginger Squad? I have a Lizard here that...

Ginger Head: Alright! Alright! <Word has it 'Tsiongi' Tessok saw it all!>

Det. T'Surlak: <thank you for your time, Office Assistant. Now, run along.>

Ginger Head: <it shall be done, superior sir! {emphatic cough]> (runs off)

Det. Fitzsimmons (making a call for real): Hello, Sal? Got any word on a Lizard named 'Tsiongi' Tessok? Might be with El Lagarto...uh huh...uh huh...great, thanks! (hangs up). We got our man...err, Race member. Vice has him in Riker's on ginger distribution charges. They're sending Goren over to talk to him about it.

Det. T'Surlak: Goren? Oh hell. That guy's buggy. Let's go before he totally brain-wipes the Lizard.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VI: The Witness



Riker's Island Federal Penitentiary

{Dun-Dun}

Interrogation room. Chain link over windows. White paint. At the plain table in a fold-up chair that must be quite uncomfortable to a Race member sits "Tsiongi" Tessok, his usual black and red lizards and bones motif gang body paint has been replaced by the green bands of a prisoner. Across the table sits Detective Robert Goren.

Det. Goren (scratching the back of his neck): So, Mr. Tessok, you're a freelance truck driver?

Tessok: yea. Freelance truck driver. They hire me, I drive for 'em.

Det. Goren: so you had no idea that the truck you were driving was loaded with several kilos of fine-cut Jamaican Ginger, then?

Tessok: no, not at all.

Det. Goren: that seems possible. Only...you were wearing (opens the battered leather folder) 'black body paint with a red Race Skull on the chest and various stylized lizard silhouettes' and...'a red spike Mohawk wig adhered to the head'...isn't that an interesting look. El Lagarto's gang wears exactly such a dress code.

Tessok: hey, that's just profiling! It's the style for the Lizard on the Street. All the Lizards are wearing it. (jaw drops in humor)

Det. Goren (smirking): oh, of course. (closes the binder) I can't really fault a being for following the crowd. I could have sworn, however, that anyone, Human or Race, who wore the gang's colors without authorization would be assaulted, possibly killed, but maybe I'm misremembering.

Moment of silent tension. Goren reopens the folder, and starts shuffling papers. Tessok squirms slightly.

Det. Goren: One thing that makes me curious, though: your blood analysis at the time of arrest showed the signs of chronic ginger use. Now, every Ginger user I know has a knack for finding the stuff. (flips through papers) I did some research and found that the olfactory senses of a Race member are very acute, far more so than Humans like myself. In fact, in cases of mating pheromones and things that mimic them, such as ginger to the addict, they can smell such scents for miles away. (tilts head to the side) How exactly did you manage to drive that truck all the way up from Florida without ever smelling it? I mean, there wasn't anything else in there that might have masked the scent. After all, DEA agents with ginger-sniffing Beffels were able to pull that particular truck out of the line at the toll bridge.

Tessok (shifting nervously, eye turrets darting in all directions other than towards Goren): um...you see...I lost my sense of smell. Accident as a hatchling. I can't smell anything at all.

Det. Goren: no kidding? My condolences. (looks at the clock) Wow, were does the time go? It's lunchtime already! I'll talk to you later.

Goren grabs his folder and gets up and walks to the door. The door opens and he starts to step out.

Det. Goern (stopping): just one more question. At your prior arrest for ginger distribution you never mentioned this injury. (turning to uniformed officer at the door) Could I get my lunch? This may take longer than expected.

The uniformed officer hands Goren a Chinese take-out box. Immediately Tessok starts trembling noticeably, eye turrets darting erratically.

Det Goren (retaking seat, opening take-out box, and grabbing chopsticks): you don't mind if I eat, do you? Good. There's a local pan-Asian take-out place around here I just love. And this one's my favorite. It's Thai Pork with Ginger. (takes several bites, talks with mouth full) I love it. It's absolutely addicting. Oh, I'm sorry. How rude of me. I'm sure the ginger scent must be driving you addled...but that's right. You can't smell it, so I guess it's ok for me to continue. (Tessok is figgiting badly) Now...about that truck of ginger you drove up from Florida...

There's a knock at the door. Det. Eames enters with Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons.

Det. Eames: Goren, guests for your friend. Race Affairs.

Det. Goren: thanks, Eames. Just enjoying lunch. Have a seat, gents.

Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak take seats at the table. T'Surlak sends an annoyed eye socket towards the pork and ginger box.

Det. Fitzsimmons: sorry to interrupt. Just a few things for Mr. Tessok. I'm Detective Fitzsimmons and this is my partner T'Surlak.

Tessok (noticeably agitated): T'Surlak? What kind of Lizard name is that?

Det. T'Surlak: a very old one. Sssotian name, predates the Empire.

Tessok: Lizard, please! Nothing predates the Empire!

Det. T'Surlak: many things predate the Empire. My name is one of them. Now, Tessok, your name came to us through word of snout that...

Tessok (interrupting): Good lord, you've gone native. I bet you were an off-hatching! Mommy loved the ginger, didn't she?

Det. T'Surlak (looking annoyed but keeping his cool): yes, actually. I hatched a quarter-year after the mating. All thanks to addle-egged ginger-dealing Azwaca dung. I'd be happy to send you all to the gas chamber, but luckily for you that's not my decision. Instead it's your lucky day, Ginger Head. Fitz?

Det. Fitzsimmons: word on the street has it you saw who whacked that Chef's Assistant.

Tessok (turning one angry eye socket from T'Surlak to Fitzsimmons): yea, maybe I did. What of it?

Det. Fitzsimmons: The City of New York might be very grateful to the being that helps her find the killer.

Tessok: if I saw someone, and I'm not saying I did, I want assurances, if you get my drift.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I get. I'm authorized to give you Possession with Intent rather than Felony Smuggling.

Det. Eames (looking angry): what?

Det. Goren smirks and rolls his eyes.

Tessok: yea, my memory's foggy without a piece of paper to remind me, but yea, I vaguely recall seeing a Black Hatter, one of Shorty's boys, doing the hit.

Det. T'Surlak: 'Shorty's Boys'?

Det. Eames: he means Abner 'Shorty' Zwillman, jr., 'Longy's' son. Heads the Jersey-Manhattan-Brooklyn syndicate. Racketeering, smuggling, gambling, prostitution...all the usual fun stuff. We've been looking into links with ginger smuggling too?

Det. Fitzsimmons: well, that'd place them right up against El Lagarto. (turns to Tessok) You boys happen to be using some undercovers of your own?

Tessok: What, the Fat Stripes? We've only just started seeing those Lizards ours...*hiss* I mean what do you mean? [innocent emphatic cough]

Det. Fitzsimmons: think you could identify the Black Hat in question from a lineup? I mean, all us Big Uglies look the same, after all...

Tessok: are you kidding? I could smell that Big Ugly a mile away!

Det. Goren: Wasn't your sense of smell was damaged as a hatchling?

Tessok: no, of cour...I mean...

Det. Goren (lifting take-out box towards Tessok): ginger pork?

Tessok: *hiss* Just bring the Big Ugly in!

[cut scene]

Outside Goldman's Kosher Foods loading dock. The young man from earlier is walking down the stairs with a group of others. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak walk up to him with a pair of uniformed officers. Dramatic music plays.

Det. Fitzsimmons: David ben Zadok?

ben Zadok: yes?

Det. Fitzsimmons (holding badge): you are wanted for questioning in the death of Chef's Assistant Vhrahu. Please come along with me.

ben Zadok (to co-workers): get Goldman, tell him to send over a lawyer!

Dramatic music builds as the detectives and uniformed officers guide ben Zadok to the squad cars.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VII: The Case


{Dun-Dun}

The District Attorney's office. Wood paneling and shelves of law books. DA Jack McCoy sits behind the desk. Across from him are ADAs Essval and Rebekkah Rothschild.

DA McCoy: Well, what's the story with the Vhrahu case suspect?

ADA Rothschild: mixed news: our witness Tessok failed to identify ben Zadok from the line up...

ADA Essval (interrupting): but successfully identified him by scent on three separate tests.

ADA Rothschild: and unfortunately he told the interrogating detective that he'd lost his smell at a young age.

ADA Essval: yes, but he was obviously lying to get out of the original ginger smuggling charge.

DA McCoy: that might not matter. A good defense lawyer will use that fact to sew uncertainty in a jury. Plus there's a question as to Mr. Tessok's reliability in general. Even if the jury accepts the smell loss to be a lie, who's to say they won't figure he's lying now to save his hide?

ADA Rothschild: a lot's going to depend on jury selection. Human juries are notoriously bad about discounting scent identification.

ADA Essval (irritated): yes, so we'll just have to make sure we get a few Lizards on the jury! (sighs and casts eye turrets down) I apologize. The mating time is approaching and I'm a little easily agitated. (sees a look from McCoy) Oh, don't worry! I'm on fertility suppressors. The last thing I need is to become gravid right now. (turns to Rothschild) how do you Big Uglies put up with this all year long?

ADA Rothschild: it takes patience to be sure, Ess. Curse and blessing of the human condition.

DA McCoy (looking impatient and uncomfortable): as to the case, what other evidence do we have on this ben Zadok?

ADA Essval: Van Buren got a search warrant for his apartment. They found scholarly and religious texts and a lot of pretty serious Zionist literature, and not much else. Interestingly, the 'not much else' included a thin stiletto dagger; a possible murder weapon. Forensics has it now. It's thoroughly wiped, but they're running it through the Skelkwank analyzer looking for trace samples.

ADA Rothschild: best of all, forensics identified the hair samples from the body as coming from ben Zadok and the wool fibers as matching ones found on a newly dry cleaned coat in his closet.

DA McCoy: how's Mr. ben Zadok fared under scrutiny?

ADA Rothschild: well, actually. Detective Fitzsimmons called him (reads from a paper) 'a model of restraint and composure'. They had little chance to speak to him as it was. His lawyer, Daniel Rosen, showed up and made the rest of the process difficult to say the least.

DA McCoy: Rosen? Well, that fits the witness' claim that ben Zadok is one of Shorty's boys.

Essval sends a questioning head-tilt towards Rothschild.

ADA Rothschild: Rosen's firm has represented the Zwillman's and other Syndicate members many times in the past.

DA McCoy: yea, when I was in law school we studied how Rosen's dad got Hymie Weiss off of a witness intimidation charge on a procedural technicality.

ADA Rothschild: the problem is that Rosen's firm also represents many high-income clients, connected or otherwise. It's made tracing the extent of the Crime Syndicate very convoluted and difficult. In this case ben Zadok's boss Mr. Goldblum hired the firm, according to pay records.

DA McCoy: if there is a suspicion of Syndicate involvement this complicates things further. As Tessok is very well documented to belong to El Lagarto's gang this makes ben Zadok a rival banger and throws witness objectivity out the window.

ADA Essval: definitely. RICO is screaming to get Tessok back in their custody as they think they can pressure him into ratting out the rest of the gang, perhaps take down Lagarto himself, perhaps establish the suspected ties between El Lagarto and the Taggliatari clan.

DA McCoy: so we have the choice of persecuting ben Zadok on murder charges or turning a "nose witness" of dubious reliability over to RICO hoping they can dig out a ginger smuggling ring. Sounds like a bad deal either way. Historically RICO cases are hard to press and there's little evidence this Lagarto is going to cooperate against his Lizards. However, he's more than eager, perhaps too eager to assist against ben Zadok.

ADA Rothschild: that's the way it looks, Jack.

DA McCoy: think you can make the murder charges stick.

ADAs Essval and Rothschild look to one another. Rothschild nods slightly.

ADA Essval (turning both eye turrets to McCoy): I believe we can. [emphatic cough]

DA McCoy: very well. Have Detectives Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak formally arrest Mr. David ben Zadok on murder charges and hold him for arraignment.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VIII: the Arraignment


{Dun-Dun}

New York Southern District Courthouse

An empty courtroom, wood paneling and neo-renaissance artwork. ADAs Essval and Rothschild approach the bench from the prosecution side, Defense Attourney Daniel Rosen walks up with defendant David ben Zadok, who wears his Hasidic clothes and no visible restraints. Judge Flora Hamburger (played by guest star former NY congresswoman Janet Blackford) sits behind the bench looking stern.

Judge Hamburger: Peolpe of New York vs. David ben Zadok, charge of murder. Ms. Essval, are you recommending remand?

ADA Essval: we are, your honor, and we are recommending his passport be withheld. The defendant has made several trips to the Imperial Province of Palestine-Israel in the last few years and is considered a flight risk.

Mr. Rosen: Your Honor, my client is a peaceful, law-abiding, and reverent man. The travel was for religious purposes, a pilgrimage to the Temple Wall, for Pete's sake. There's no reason to treat him like a mafia don!

ADA Rothschild: Your Honor, this man is accused of a brutal homicide...

Mr. Rosen (interrupting): based on shaky evidence with a witness more than happy to save his own skin by implicating my client.

ADA Essval: then there's the forensic evidence, the hair and cloth samples...

Mr. Rosen (interrupting): along with who knows how much else after sitting under a dumpster for a day...not to mention the possible mishandling of evidence.

ADA Essval: Your Honor, despite the defense's ascertations to the contrary all evidence was handled in an appropriate manner. Furthermore, we believe the 'pilgrimages' were as a part of a ginger smuggling operation and that the defendant may have links to organized crime.

Mr. Rosen (again interrupting): based on the word of a convicted ginger smuggler attempting to save his own cloaca!

Judge Hamburger: that's enough, Mr. Rosen! Ms. Essval?

ADA Essval: thank you, Your Honor. Based on this evidence the State of New York feels that remand is necessary.

Judge Hamburger: agreed, counselor. Defendant remanded into custody, bail set at two-hundred-thousand dollars.

Mr. Rosen: Your Honor!

Judge Hamburger: I said that was enough, Mr. Rosen. Trial start date was to be set for April 9th; however, there is a motion by the Defense to postpone this due to religious conflicts. Seems this is the start of Pesach and Mr. ben Zadok as a devout Jew is not permitted to work. The motion is to move the trial to the fourth of May.

ADA Essval: um, your honor, I will have to request that the first two weeks of May be closed to trial.

Judge Hamburger: and may I ask why, councilor?

ADA Essval: um...it's...the frenzy.

Judge Hamburger: the what?

ADA Essval: um...mating season.

Mr. Rosen: Your Honor, are we scheduling around orgy times now? Because if that's the case I have this trip to Vegas lined up...

Judge Hamburger (cutting him off): Mr. Rosen, that's out of line! Don't make me consider 'contempt'!

ADA Rothschild: Your Honor, Councilor, as was well established by Razzak vs. the State of California, the Frenzy time is a period set by biological factors and is well beyond the abilities of a Race member to consciously resist. Statute RACE-65.1B clearly considers Frenzy and ginger-casued False Frenzy a period of excusable action and absence.

Judge Hamburger: yes, I recall that one. They tried to debar Councilor Razzak for mating with one of the Jurors during the trial. As I recall they had to declare a mistrial based on possible jury bias.

ADA Essval: with respect, Your Honor, that's Human thinking. The Race does not normally establish social-sexual bonds.

Judge Hamburger: agreed, Councilor, but the appearance of bias was enough. Councilors of the Prosecution, are there any objections to moving the trial date from Pesach?

ADA Rothschild: none, Your Honor.

Judge Hamburger: Mr. Rosen, any objections to cutting out the week of the Frenzy?

Mr. Rosen (hesitating for a moment): ...na...no Your Honor.

Judge Hamburger: alright, then... (flipping through an appointment book) ...this gives the next open slot for trial as the 13th of August. And Mr. ben Zadok, we will respect the observance of shabbat and holy days. Besides, I have family coming over for Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur this September as it is. Defendant remanded with bail set and trial date set. (hits gavel)

[Geekhis Khan]

Part IX: Pre-trial


Conference room in the DA's office. Defense attorney Rosen and ben Zadok sit across from ADAs Essval and Rothschild. Ben Zadok seems almost eerily calm and composed. His eyes burn with an inner fire.

ADA Essval: based on the evidence a conviction is certain, but the DA's office is prepared to offer Murder 2, 15-20, in return for a guilty plea.

Rosen (scoffs): are you kidding me? My client was no where near the scene of the crime, as a friend is willing to testify.

ADA Rothschild: are you kidding us? We have a witness...

Rosen (interrupting): ...who's not credible...

ADA Rothschild (ignoring interruption): ...the hair and coat samples...

Rosen: ...which could have gotten there hours earlier when my client threw the victim out of the factory...

ADA Rothschild: ...which can not be verified since your client's boss failed to turn over the skelkwank disks from the video.

Rosen: hey, things get lost. A third-shift employee, who's since been fired for incompetence, I might add, accidentally overwrote them when he was etching himself music files...which was strictly against company policy!

ADA Essval: on Home they have an expression that goes: (points both eye turrets accusingly towards Rosen) 'how damned convenient'.

Rosen: don't go double-barreling me, hon'! I just bring the news! Go eye-up the idiot that over-etched the disks!

ADA Rothschild: we certainly will...once he gets back from his extended vacation in the Imperial Caribbean.

ADA Essval: again, 'how damned convenient'.

Rosen shrugs. Ben Zadok just stares coldly at them.

ADA Rothschild: And then there's the final nail in the coffin: the murder weapon itself, found in your client's apartment and confirmed through skelkwank analysis to have Race blood on it. There's a 93.4% certainty it is Vhrahu's blood.

Rosen: oh yes, the 'murder weapon'. I'd nearly forgotten. (pulls a blue envelope from his briefcase) Consider that suppressed.

{Dun-Dun}

Judge Hamburger's chamber. Law books and paneling. A spider plant by the window. As an easter egg, a 'Blackford for Congress' sign on the wall. The ADAs sit across from the Judge at a long table.

ADA Essval: your honor, you can't allow this!

Judge Hamburger: madam, please do not tell me what I can or cannot do in my courtroom! The counselor is correct: the weapon was contaminated with the presence of zisuilli blood and the Skelkwank analysis is compromised because of it.

ADA Essval: that's because the defendant specifically stabbed the weapon through a raw zisuilli roast to exploit that very loophole! They call it 'meating' the blade!

Judge Hamburger: the motivation for the 'meating' is irrelevant, the blade is contaminated and the skelkwank analysis dubious because of it! Zazztor vs. the State of Texas clearly established that zisuilli tissue can cause a false positive on skelkwank tests.

ADA Rothschild: but Your Honor, Zazztor v. Texas is twenty years out of date! The modern systems use calibration techniques and multiple confirmations to eliminate any false positives from zisuilli, or aswaca or beef for that matter!

Judge Hamburger (annoyed): again, irrelevant. Irregardless of the technological advances the statute stands, the weapon is legally 'contaminated' and the motion stands! The knife is gone, councilors, I'm sorry!

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part X: The Trial


{Dun-Dun}

Back in the court room. This time, it is full. The jury box seats twelve: seven Humans and five Race members. The Prosecution is up. A middle-aged woman in tweed and glasses is on the stand. She is Dr. Adriene Folgore, Forensic DNA specialist.

ADA Rothschild: so, Dr. Folgore, could you tell me about the hairs found on the victim's body?

Dr. Folgore: yes. We analyzed them through the microscope and ran skelkwank DNA analysis of the hairs, finding them to belong to a male of Eastern European origins, likely of Jewish ancestry based on several key indicators. Furthermore, DNA comparisons based on hair provided by the defendant shows a direct match on all indicators.

ADA Rothschild: so, Doctor, in your opinion did the hairs found on the victim belong to the defendant?

Dr. Folgore: Yes, absolutely.

ADA Rothschild: thank you, Dr. Folgore, that will be all.

Judge Hamburger: your witness, Mr. Rosen.

Defense attorney Rosen approaches the stand.

Mr. Rosen: so, doctor, you're absolutely convinced that the hairs belong to the defendant, Mr. ben Zadok?

Dr. Folgore: absolutely.

Mr. Rosen (scratching his ear): no doubts at all?

Dr. Folgore: none.

Mr. Rosen (after a moment): but isn't there a chance for a mismatch?

Dr. Folgore: yes, but it's infinitesimally small. Roughly one in a hundred billion.

Mr. Rosen (flipping through papers): it says here it's more like one in 15 million, which means there are at least twelve other people out there who will match this profile.

Dr. Folgore: those numbers are out of date and reflect older, less reliable equipment. The new figure has no uncertainty save for genetic matches from identical twins.

Mr. Rosen: and yet the State of New York still only recognizes one in fifteen million. That means that of the twelve possible genetic matches, Mr. ben Zadok is but one. That's only a one in twelve chance that he's the guilty party, is it not?

Dr. Folgore: that's a logical fallacy. Even if we assume your out-of-date figures are true, which they are not, that would only apply if the defendant was chosen at random from the general population.

Mr. Rosen (flipping through more papers): you say the hairs were found on the victim. The prosecution insists that this means Mr. ben Zadok was at the scene of the crime, and yet Mr. ben Zadok had escorted the victim, very much alive out of his place of work, where the victim was trespassing. Could the hairs have not gotten on the victim then?

Dr. Folgore: based on the placement and the fact that they were not adhered to the victim, that's highly unlikely. Most likely they fell on the victim after the victim was already immobile, likely deceased.

Mr. Rosen: but...they could have come from the earlier scuffle?

Dr. Folgore: yes, but that's very unl...

Mr. Rosen (interrupting): no further questions, Your Honor.

{Dun-Dun}

Tessok is now on the stand. He is wearing standard red-white-blue expatriate "USA" body paint.

ADA Essval: Citizen Tessok, tell us again about what you witnessed the night of the murder.

Tessok: yea, I was hangin' out in the alleys, just mindin' my own business, when I see this Lizard walkin' the alley. He was obviously on a Ginger bender. I think nothin' of it. Hey, a Ginger Head in the Lower East Side after dark? Not what you'd call out of place. Now, then somethin' really catches my eye...and my snout. It's this Tosevite in a black hat and facial hair like them old guys that usually jus' go to the church and can't take the bus on Fridays, or whatever. And I think, 'what's one of them doin' in the streets after dark'?

ADA Essval: and can you identify the Tosevite you saw? Is he here in this courtroom?

Tessok: the nose knows. (sniffs loudly) It's that guy over there (points to ben Zadok).

Judge Hamburger: let the record show that the witness has identified the defendant, Mr. ben Zadok.

ADA Essval: so, Citizen Tessok, what happened then?

Tessok: well, I'm curious, so I follows, real quiet like. And I see the defendant sneaking up on the Lizard, and he pulls out this knife and he piths the Lizard pretty as you please.

ADA Essval: could you state clearly what you mean?

Tessok: he stabbed the Male. In the back of the neck.

ADA Essval: and what did you do?

Tessok: I jus' kept quiet, you know? The Big Ugly might pith me next, right? Anyway, the defendant stole from the Male's pouch and ran back down the alley. Me, I went about my day.

ADA Essval: and why didn't you report the body?

Tessok: what, and get pithed by the black hat? No thank you!

ADA Essval: that will be all.

Judge Hamburger: your witness, Mr. Rosen.

Mr. Rosen: so, Citizen Tessok, or should I call you 'Tsiongi'? That's what the rest of the gang calls you, right? Am I right in understanding you run with a tough crowd? El Lagarto, I believe it's called?

ADA Essval: Your Honor, objection!

Mr. Rosen: goes to credibility, Your Honor.

Judge Hamburger: overruled; get on with it, Mr. Rosen.

Mr. Rosen: Mr. Tessok, were you not brought in to custody the week after the victim's death on charges of felony ginger smuggling?

Tessok hisses lowly.

Mr.Rosen: Your Honor, could you instruct the witness to answer the question?

Judge Hamburger: Citizen Tessok, please answer the question.

Tessok: *hiss* yes, it seemed someone hid a bunch of ginger in the bed of the truck on me.

Mr. Rosen: and what happened to those charges? Don't answer; I have it here. (flips through papers) It seems the charges were reduced to 'possession with intent to distribute' in return for your testimony here today, isn't that right?

Tessok: hey, I saw what I saw and smelled what I smelled!

Mr. Rosen (pauses; reads): about that smell. It says here that you told a detective Goren under interrogation that your sense of smell was damaged as a hatchling and that you couldn't smell the huge amount of ginger in the truck you drove. Yet your 'sniffer' works perfectly the night of the alleged murder. Which is it, Citizen Tessok? Were you lying to cover your tail then or lying to us to cover your tail now?

ADA Essval and Rothschild (together): objection!

Mr. Rosen: withdrawn! That's all for this witness, Your Honor.

{cut scene}

Back in the DA's office. DA McCoy is looking across the desk at Essval and Rothschild, looking very stressed.

DA McCoy: things looking bad, I take it?

ADA Rothschild: they're killing us out there! That slippery shyster and his razzle-dazzle games have shot our witness' credibility to hell and gone, and even sewed doubt over the DNA evidence! Hell, even the threads of the coat he's spinning as unreliable.

ADA Essval: without that knife we're sunk. Damn that outdated precedent! *hiss*

DA McCoy: easy, councilor. Look, we need a break and we need it now or we're sunk. I'd gladly settle for Man 2 right now if I thought Rosen would go for it. As it stands it looks like ben Zadok is walking. Call up your detectives; one of them has to have some lead that hasn't been fully explored. I'll stall for time with the judge. For the love of God, please find us something...anything!

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XI: New Evidence


{Dun-Dun}

Fleischman's Deli, 9th & W. 44th

After dark. An old style kosher Deli. Det. Fitzsimmons is at the counter. There's an old white-bearded Hasidim (Fleischman) behind the counter ringing up Fitzsimmons' order.

Fleischmann: there you go, detective, two pounds of corned beef. Anything else I can do for you this evening?

Det. Fitzsimmons: not today, Avil.

Fleischmann: how's the family?

Det. Fitzsimmons: well, the kid's doing well in school. I get to see him this weekend unless Mary flakes out again.

Fleischman: such a shame. No man should be separated from his son!

Fitzsimmons: yea, tell me about it! Hey, how's your son? Ever make it into medical school?

Fleischmann: you kidding? He's got a full ride lined up at Rutgers! Now, God willing, he'll take it and not go running off to Israel to live like a bum on some kibbutz! Kids. Say, how's the Lizard?

Fitzsimmons: T'Surlak? Seriously, I bring him in here once and you never forget it.

Fleischman (laughing): he asked for ham!

Fitzsimmons: yea, still doesn't quite get the whole 'kosher' thing. Anyway, he's bummed over the whole case. Hell, I'm surprised you still talk to me after arresting a Hasidim.

Fleischman: who, ben Zadok? Please! He's no more Hasidic than I'm the Knick's star forward!

Fitzsimmons: what? Do tell!

Fleischman: really, what kind of Hasidim smokes on Shabat? He just wears the hat. Happens more and more, these days. Kids go off to the Holy Land, pray at the wall a couple times, and suddenly they think they're Orthodox! Most, eh, they do fine. Need some straightening out here and there, you know? But some, they just play dress-up, and the worst, they make a mockery of it all!

Fitzsimmons: do tell!

Fleischman: take that no good kid you locked up: runs with the gangs is the word on the grapevine. Weiss, possibly Zwillman, who knows? They dress up to avoid scrutiny at the airports or whatever. Seems the Lizards don't bother the black hats over there, 'cause they know it gets the Jews living there all riled up. So, dress up in the hat, take a ship full of ginger with them back to the Holy Land, make a mint.

Fitzsimmons: Avil, you're a life-saver! (picks up phone) T'Surlak? Yea, Fitz. Hey, I just got some info that'll blow your mind concerning ben Zadok.

{cut scene}

T'Surlak is at a convenience store watching a black & white closed circuit TV loop through the various cameras.

T'Surlak: well, you couldn't have called at a better time. I'm at a convenience store in SoHo and I just noticed their security camera TV.

{cut scene}

Fitzsimmons: so?

{cut scene}

T'Surlak: so, it's flipping through camera views, and one of them is the back alleyway. I'm wondering if any of the places along the alleys where Vhrahu got killed has anything like this.

{cut scene}

Fitzsimmons: you may be on to something. Meet me at the precinct.

{cut scene; dramatic music}

Back to the court room. The jury is watching a monitor. On it a black and white image of an alley from a high vantage. It clearly shows a Race member in Chef's Assistant body paint including the extra-large "hidden" stripe stumble by. Soon after ben Zadok, his face clearly visible walks by, cold determination on his face. There's a skip-forward and a Hasidim, apparently ben Zadok, comes running back past the camera. The jury and audience look shocked. There is alarmed murmuring. Ben Zadok, looking very worried, is quietly arguing with Mr. Rosen.

Mr. Rosen (standing up): Your Honor, the Defense requests a meeting in your chambers.

ADAs Rothschild and Essval exchange semi-congratulatory glances.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XII: The Secret


Judge's Chamber. Both ADAs, Accused and Defense are at the conference table with Judge Hamburger. She looks very annoyed.

Mr. Rosen: Your Honor, in light of this sudden new evidence just sprung on us we need this recess to reformulate the Defense plan.

Judge Hamburger: 'sprung on you'? Councilor, you had the appropriate two week's notice of this new evidence. The only 'surprise' for you was the jury's reaction! Now, you've had more than enough time to restructure your case and respond to the new evidence. Motion for recess is dismissed.

ADA Essval: in light of the circumstances the City of New York is willing to concede Murder Two, 15-25.

Mr. Rosen and ben Zadok whisper animatedly to each other. Ben Zadok looks very angry.

Mr. Rosen: Your Honor, I'm left with little other choice. (hands the judge a document) This is a document from the U.S. State Department ordering an immediate end to the trial in the interests of national security.

ADA Rothschild: objection, Your Honor! This is ridiculous! We have received no notice of this at all!

Judge Hamburger (looking over document): Mr. Rosen, it's a little late to be bringing up documents of this importance, don't you think?

Mr. Rosen: my client is a part of a program considered intensely important to national security by the Gramby Administration. While the details of the program are considered classified - and even I don't know the details - this document is very clear that any incarceration will be irrevocably damaging to the interests of the United States. I apologize for reserving it until now, but I was under orders to save this unless absolutely necessary...again in the name of national security.

Judge Hamburger: Mr. ben Zadok, please give me a real reason to beleive that whatever you do is worth dismissing a murder trial.

Ben Zadok: Your Honor, I am not at liberty to discuss my work, even with you.

ADA Essval: this is absolutely ludicrous! [emphatic cough] Your Honor, this has to be some sort of sick ploy by the defense since they know their case is shot!

Mr. Rosen (holding up hands): madam District Attorney, I'm sorry, but I don't make up the nation's rules. Be advised also that my client's position with the U.S. Government is highly sensitive and not to be revealed in voice or in writing to anyone outside this room or necessary supervisory personnel as dictated in Appendix A.

ADA Essval: ludicrous...

Judge Hamburger: Mr. Rosen, this is highly irregular and I am highly annoyed at this. I am ordering a long recess of an indeterminate duration until the nature of this is sorted out to my satisfaction. So help me if any of this turns out to be other than what you claim.

Mr. Rosen: Your Honor, I'm a man of integrity and a man of my word! (Essval's mouth opens in humor) Hey! That's slanderous, councilor! I object to my colleague's slander of my good name in her...

Judge Hamburger: Mr. Rosen, you got your recess. Don't push it!

{Dun-Dun}

DA's office. DA McCoy and the ADAs are present, as is Mayor Carlotta.

DA McCoy: it seems Mr. ben Zadok has friends in very high places!

Mayor Carlotta: if that isn't an understatement! I got a call from the Undersecretary of State telling me to 'call off the dogs'! Jack, what the hell kind of ant's nest did you kick over here?

ADA Essval: it's got to be a trick. Some sort of ploy...

DA McCoy: I' wish it were! I've called the State Department, I've had the documents verified...whoever ben Zadok is and whatever he does for the government he's apparently too important to send to jail when guilty of murder!

ADA Rothschild: what about a Man 1 deal?

Mayor Carlotta: no deal. The State Department clearly says 'no jail time'. Like it or not - and I surely don't - he walks!

ADA Essval: no! No, sir! You can't allow this! It's not just and not right!

Mayor Carlotta: You're absolutely right about that, councilor, but that's beyond our control at this point.

ADA Essval: sir, no! This is an Azwaca pile! I refuse to let this...murderer walk!

Mayor Carlotta: that's enough, Madam ADA. I don't like it either, but we have no choice. Consider it an executive order.

ADA Essval (in Race): <it shall be done, superior sir!> [emphatic cough]

DA McCoy: that's enough, councilor! (sighs) Look...we drop the murder. But I want him out of my city! We'll get him on a lesser charge. I don't know, assault, ginger charges...health code violation! He handled a dead body before returning to work, right? We can prove that much! (stands up, paces, brainstorming) We have the hair and video footage. We can show that he's in violation of health code statutes concerning the preparation of food products and bring it before the board of health.

ADA Essval (very angry): 'health code violation'?! Why don't we just get him for littering?! 'Mr. ben Zadok, pardon me, but you left your dead Lizard outside the dumpster...'

DA McCoy: I said that's enough, councilor!

Mayor Carlotta: frankly that's enough from all of you! Damnation...we're whipped. It's over, councilors. The bastard walks. I wish it were different, I really do. But it isn't.

DA McCoy: it's 'Whitey' Bulger all over again, isn't it?

Mayor Carlotta: I'm afraid it might be.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Conclusion


ADA Rothschild's apartment in Red Hook. A small and somewhat cluttered place full of bric-a-brac and porcelain dolls. ADA Essval is with her. They have ice cream.

ADA Essval (looking warily at a spoon of ice cream with one eye turret): this is what Tosevite females eat to de-stress? Cold, sugary insipid paste?

ADA Rothschild: well, this or chocolate.

ADA Essval: I'll pass on either, thank you. Why can't you just drink heavily like your males?

ADA Rothschild: we do that too. Here, I'll dig up that bottle of vodka. (walks off camera)

ADA Essval (setting down bowl): it's just not right. To lose a case on legal grounds is one thing. To have it ripped out from under you by government interference is quite another.

ADA Rothschild (rummaging around in the kitchen): that's the glamorous life of the Prosecuting Attorney, hon.

ADA Essval (after a pause): I'm thinking about quitting.

ADA Rothschild: what?

ADA Essval: maybe I'll move out of this not-Empire all together. What's the point?

ADA Rothschild (returning with vodka and two glasses): Essie, don't do anything rash. Besides, where would you go? Most of Europe is irradiated thanks to the Nazis. Japan imprisons all of the Race as spies. The rest is owned by the Empire, pretty much, and you told me you're never going back there. (pours two shots of vodka, hands one to Essval) And if you think New York's winters are bad, try Russia or Canada!

ADA Essval (downs vodka without thinking about it): there has to be an explanation for all this. Why? Why protect that scumbag, of all scumbags?

ADA Rothschild: you know, I've put some though into that. He must be part of an investigation. Maybe he's an FBI informant?

ADA Essval: maybe he's part of some government plot to kill Lizards.

ADA Rothschild: you can't believe that, Essie!

ADA Essval (Angry; turns both eye turrets towards ADA Rothschild): why not? It was this not-Empire that fusion-bombed the Colonial fleet, after all! (ADA Rothschild looks very uncomfortable; ADA Essval turns her eye turrets to the floor) Sorry. I know you lost family in the reprisal bombing. I'm...just...

ADA Rothschild: it's ok, I understand.

ADA Essval: I need to understand this. Really, I can't go on otherwise.

ADA Rothschild: give up, hon. It's not for us to know and you'd be arrested as a spy if you tired to find out.

ADA Essval (after a long pause): I know who might know...or at least have a good guess. Where's that bar the detectives go to?

ADA Rothschild: I'll take you there. Why, who do you...oh no. Not him! He's a nut!

ADA Essval: who else?

ADA Rothschild: he thinks Sam Yeager is a hero!

ADA Essval: isn't he?

{Dun-Dun}

Sammy's Pub, Thompsen & Prince. Dark dive of a bar popular with the precinct. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are at a booth with Det. Munch from SVU.

Det. Munch: I'm telling you, Alderson may have the arm, but Rodriguez has finesse.

Det. Fitzsimmons: oh, please!

Det. Munch: I'm serious! His curve is responsible for more K's than Alderson's much-vaunted fast ball by...

ADAs Essval and Rothschild walk up.

Det. Munch: hey, ladies. Have a seat.

Det. T'Surlak: <greetings, Councilor>

ADA Essval: <greetings, Detective. How's the abandoned eggs case going ?>

Det. T'Surlak: <We think we found a lead.>

ADA Essval: <superb! [emphatic cough]> (turns to Munch) Detective, I actually came to talk to you.

Det. Munch: no problem; what have you got?

ADA Essval: it's about the ben Zadok case. What are your thoughts on why the State Department wanted him to walk?

Det. Fitzsimmons: oh, lord. Here we go!

Det. T'Surlak drops his jaw in humor.

Det. Munch gets an excited, conspiratorial look on his face, shifts in his seat, and begins to talk animatedly.

Det. Munch: you came to the right person. I've put a lot of thought into it and followed up on some leads...

Det. Fitzsimmons (interjecting): by which he means wild-assed conspiracies...

Det. Munch (igroning him): ...and it seems obvious: the government's backing up the Syndicate's ginger smuggling operations in order to destabilize the Empire's government.

Det. Fitzsimmons: oh, that's rich, even for you!

ADA Rothschild laughs out loud. Det. T'Surlak's "laugh" suddenly stops, his mouth closes and his eye turrets turn in a serious manner towards Munch.

Det. Munch: it's true!

Det. Fitzsimmons: this from a guy that thinks the [I]Admiral Perry is flying to Home with a cargo bay full of ginger!

Det. Munch: you just wait on that one. But back to ben Zadok: think about it! We know the destabilizing effects ginger's had on the Race. We also know that the Syndicate is dabbling in arch-Zionism: 'kick out the Lizards and free the Holy Land for the chosen people', right? (turns to Rothschild) you're with me, right, sister?

ADA Rothschild: you're on your own there, John.

ADA Essval: please go on [emphatic cough].

Det. Munch: well, we all remember Senator 'Junior' Kennedy and his ties to the mob...

Det. Fitzsimmons: ...alleged ties...

Det. Munch: well, it's like that: the State Department, hoping to destabilize the Empire in their shadow war, supports 'Shorty' Zwillman's ginger smuggling efforts, using fake Hasidim as drug mules. Now, the Race gets wind of this, only they don't know one black hat from another and searching them all of them will piss off the locals in Palestine, so you send over a few agents of your own to keep tabs...

Det. T'Surlak: ...hence the buried stripes...

Det. Munch: ...exactly, and one gets a little too close to the truth. Shorty's boys send ben Zadok the ice man after him, and presto, dead Lizard in the Lower East!

ADA Essval: wow, that's diabolic!

Det. Fitzsimmons (sarcastically): it's the only logical explanation.

Det. Munch: well, Fitzy, what's your theory?

Det. Fitzsimmons: easy: ben Zadok's an FBI informant, simple as that. They're trying to track down Shorty's ginger ring. They tag him. Unfortunately, he tags Vhrahu and they need to bail him out to save the case. I don't like it, but that doesn't mean I don't understand their motives. Certainly doesn't require a massive multi-party conspiracy.

ADA Essval: and what's Vhrahu's role in all this?

Det. Fitzsimmons: rival gang. New kids on the block, possibly in league with El Lagarto, which explains why Tessok was so eager to 'help'.

Det. Munch: just wait. We'll be seeing more fat-stripers and they'll all be Lizards without Papers. Pretty soon we'll see revenge killings as the shadow war comes to the Five Borroughs.

Det. T'Surlak: reprisal killings? That's a Tosevite concept. The Race doesn't work that way. We kill in war or when logically expedient, not for petty revenge.

Det. Munch: we'll see...we'll see...

Det. Fitzsimmons: care to wager a beer on that?

Det. Munch: oh, you're on!

{cut scene}

Three months later. Madison Street near Grand.

{dramatic music}

Police cars and crime scene tape. Uniformed officers holding back onlookers and press. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak duck under the tape and approach crime scene personnel. There's a human body, only black pant legs and black shoes visible at this point.

Det. Fitzsimmons: what do we got, Frank?

Frank (CSI guy): human male, white, Hasidic clothes. Shot twice in the back.

Det. T'Surlak: ben Zadok.

Frank: you know him?

Det. Fitzsimmons: we're acquainted.

Camera pans around to show David ben Zadok's lifeless body lying in a pool of his own blood. Another CSI agent is photographing; a third is circling bullet casings.

Frank: .38 slugs. Three casings; we're tracking down the third. The two other bullets entered low through the back, one at a low angle exiting through the lower left ribcage, the other at a higher angle that, based on the apparent trajectory, probably ruptured the heart, though an autopsy will be necessary to know for certain.

Det. Fitzsimmons: a real heartbreaker.

Det. T'Surlak: 'low angle'...Race member?

Frank: that or a dwarf...or kid or someone kneeling. No witnesses have turned up so far and all the locals managed to see and hear nothing, of course.

Det. T'Surlak: of course.

Frank: there's more. Check out this marking: it's hard to see over the black coat, but it amounts to a red stripe along the chest about nipple-height.

Det. T'Surlak: by the Emperor, a fat stripe!

Det. Fitzsimmons: exactly like the one on Vhrahu. Did anyone outside the department know about the buried paint job?

Det. T'Surlak: it was never even brought up at trial to the best of my knowledge.

Det. Fitzsimmons (after a pause): I thought the Race didn't do reprisals.

Det. T'Surlak: looks like they do now. We've learned oh so much from you Big Uglies over the years.

Det. Fitzsimmons: the worst part about this is that it looks like I owe Munch a beer.

{Dun-Dun}

Fade to black.

A Geek Wolf Production.

[Geekhis Khan]

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to current events or real beings, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

In the criminal justice system, offenses involving members of the Race contain inherent diplomatic concerns. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these special cases are members of an elite squad known as the Race Affairs Unit. These are their stories.

{Dun-Dun}


Law & Order: Race Affairs Unit


Episode 23: Deadly Medicine

Part I: the Body



The Brigadier Condominium Complex, Central Park W. and W 73rd, Upper West Side

2 am. A man dressed in stylish black clothes and designer sunglasses walks along an ornately decorated hallway with a telecom earpiece and a to-go cup from Wolf Espresso Co. He's acting very hurried and stressed.

Stressed Guy: Yea...yea I know! He'll make the date, how many times do...yea...yea! Look, I know he's got a reputation, but trust me, with his financials after that case he'll do the tour. He has to.

Stressed Guy unlocks a door and walks in, entering a large, plush, and modern-decorated home. It has a large window with a night view of Central Park. In the center of the room is a glowing hologram of a wildly-painted Race member with a leather jacket and a bright neon-green wig screaming into a microphone and striking a pose.

Stressed Guy: Look, I'm at his place. I'll talk to him and he can talk to you. (yells out) Yo! 'Modie! Where you at?

Stressed Guy walks into a spacious bedroom. There, face down in the center of the floor, is a Race member with the same wild paint and wig as in the hologram.

Stressed Guy: Oh Lord...Jimmy, I'll call you back. (hits a button on the earpiece) Hello, 911?

{cut scene}

Dets. T'Surak and Fitzsimmons are walking down the same ornate hallway.

Det. T'Surlak: So much for sleeping in.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Easy for you to say. I was up 'till midnight watching the Yanks.

Det. T'Surlak: Lose again?

Det. Fitzsimmons: What do you think?

The two walk past a uniformed officer and a pair of CSI agents. They duck under the tape over the door and enter. The hologram is turned off and an army of CSI people pick at things around the condo. One points to the bedroom and the Detectives head that direction. There's a uniformed officer at the body and a crime photographer.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Is that who I think it is?

Officer: In the Scales. Pop legend Komodo. His agent found him early this morning.

Det. T'Surlak: (sarcastically) What a shame.

Det. Fitzsimmons: What, you don't like Komodo?

Det. T'Surlak: Does a Black Panther like Al Jolson? He's...was an embarrassment to the race.

Officer: Hey, not exactly my cup either, but you have to admit he did some great stuff back in the day. Draconia was a killer song.

Det. T'Surlak: (hisses quietly). Don't remind me. I could go homicidal myself every time I hear it. Try growing up the only Lizard on your block and always being expected to do the Claw Crawl on command.

Det. Fitzsimmons (changing subject): So, what's the story with the Hisser?

Officer: appears to be cardiac arrest, possibly Ginger OD but we won't know until toxicology is done. Hey, if you walk to the other side you can get a sneak peek on the latest "construction project".

The detectives walk around the body. The camera pans with them to reveal that the victim's eye turrets have been surgically reduced to resemble more human-like eyes. The view also shows the victim has a pair of collagen-implant lips. A badly-added fake nose shows signs of recent swelling as if new.

Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak (together): Whoa! (T'Surlak diverts both eye turrets)

Officer: And that's what he did to himself.

Det. Fitzsimmons: So, any signs of foul play?

Officer: Not certain yet. Could just be a standard OD or collapse after the years of hard living, but considering the...profile of the victim the Mayor requested a full investigation just to stave off the press jackals.

Det. T'Surlak: Talk about a media circus.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I hope you stretched this morning, Tis, 'cause we'll be the ones jumping through the flaming hoops.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part II: The Case


Precinct Offices. Lt. Van Buren sits on Det. T'Surlak's desk. Det. Fitzsimmons stands by.



Lt. Van Buren: Any breaks on the Plastic Dragon?

Det. T'Surlak: Forensics found large-enough-to-be-fatal amounts of a compound called Helenalin, a (reads paper) ses-quit-er-pine lactone that can be toxic to people in large amounts, but triply so in the Race. They call it Shazzkhat, and it's a common poison on Home.

Lt. Van Buren: So, someone slipped Komodo a Micky. Any word on when?

Det. Fitzsimmons: It appears to be a gradual buildup over the course of weeks.

Det. T'Surlak: I'm guessing a slow poisoning. We may be seeing a kill by someone who knows the victim very well.

Lt. Van Buren: Anyone with motive?

Det. T'Surlak: Anyone without motive? Seriously, the Lizard managed to offend half the Race and then offended about all the Big Uglies after that zoo of a trial.

Det. Fitzsimmons: We've planned a little visit to the Agent, Mr. Sam Clayborne.

Lt. Van Buren: The one who found the body? Thinking he might have made a 'convenient discovery'?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Are you kidding? The Lizard cost him millions thanks to missed concerts courtesy of his wild and wacky ways.

{Dun-Dun}


Office of Sam Clayborne, A Star Borne Talent Agency, Beaver & Broad, Lower Manhattan


Dets. T'Surlak & Fitzsimmons walk up to the desk of an attractive receptionist. There are sympathy flowers everywhere.

Receptionist (talking into headset): A Star Borne, please hold...(turns to Detectives) yes, Gentlemen? Let me guess, comedy act? Frankly the Human-Race duo's been played out.

Det. Fitzsimmons (presenting badge): Call it more a Buddy-Cop Drama. I'm the By-The-Book and he's the Wacky Sidekick (gets irritated eye turret from T'Surlak).

Det. T'Surlak: I thought you were the Sidekick and I was the Sexy Bad Boy with the Troubled Past.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Can we have a word with Mr. Clayborne? I'm sure you can hold his calls.

Receptionist: Just a minute, please.

{Cut Scene}

Clayborne's Office. The window overlooks downtown Manhattan. There are dozens of glamor-shots of various stars on the wall, apparently his clients.

Clayborne: So I enter the bedroom and there he is, like you saw him. I called 911 and checked his pulse and got nothing, so I left him there. I don't know Race CPR and he was cold as an ice cube anyway, so not much else I could do. (shrugs)

Det. T'Surlak: You seem real broken up over your loss.

Clayborne: I am. Look, if I don't show it, it's 'cause I've seen it happen so many times. You just kinda' get numb, you know?

Det. Fitzsimmons: More than you realize.

Clayborne: You know, detectives, I was there for Komodo for years, back when he was openin' for Lounge acts and doin' Bar-mitzvahs. Hell, I was the one that got him the gig on Donald, his big break! I was even there when that ridiculous trial was going on. 'Ginger Rape of a Minor', puh-lease! Immature Females can't go into heat even with ginger, none the less Males! (snorts) The criminal trial gets thrown out, but some parents gig him for millions in a civil trial based on the criminal charges that were dropped! So much for double-jeopardy!

Det. Fitzsimmons: Would you know anybody that might wish harm on Mr. Komodo?

Clayborne: You mean besides half the population that thinks he's a sicko? I can forward you this week's hate mail. We'd burn them on delivery normally, but after the death I figured we'd keep the new ones on hand for your sake.

Det. T'Surlak: That's a big help, Mr. Clayborne. What about anyone who stood to gain financially from his death?

Clayborne: Not that I can think. He was near bankrupt. This comeback tour was going to save his bacon...and mine! Now he's dead and I've inherited the debt from the show bookings he'll never make now. I'll be lucky to break even on merchandising, assuming Greeperet--Komodo's sister and the kids' new guardian--doesn't cut me out of the loop (T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons exchange glances).

Det. T'Surlak: One more thing, Mr. Clayborne, before we go: is there anyone but yourself that Komodo would see on a regular basis?

Clayborne: Not really. His adopted Hatchlings, the Nanny, Doc. Haney, the service staff...other than that, just Donald. The old Lizard had a soft spot for the kid.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part III: the Sister


Residential Home of Quissrath, Sister of Komodo, Clarke & Belmont, Yonkers


Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons elbow their way through a crowd of cheering fans, onlookers, and press.

Det. Fitzsimmons: NYPD, pardon us!

Det. T'Surlak: ...damned circus!

Det. Fitzsimmons: That's fame for you.

They come up to a nondescript house. The yard is well maintained, but roped off with of all things velvet rope. A large man in black sunglasses and a tight black shirt that shows off muscles stands at the entry.

Det. T'Surlak: This gets stranger every minute.

Det. Fitzsimmons: And we thought Komodo made things strange in life.

The detectives approach the rope and guard.

Guard: Back off! Private residence, no admissions!

Det. Fitzsimmons (flashing badge): I think there's room in the club for two more VIPs.

The guard shrugs and unhooks the rope. They walk up to the house.

{Cut Scene}

In the living room. The cheers of the crowd are still audible. A Female in the paint of an Administrator (Quissrath) sits across the coffee table from the detectives. A nanny is struggling to control two hissing, running Hatchlings.

Quissrath: Gila! Goana! Calm down and listen to the nanny! (hisses) I'm sorry, Superior Sirs, the last few weeks have been a nightmare. Khormat...Komodo, excuse me; by the Emperor I hate that stage name...he adopted these two, but he never really had the time or interest to raise them. Now they might as well be ferals. The court gave them to me because I'm the only legal family they have and I refuse to send them into foster care. That's where the state sent us after the accident, and look where it got us. Goana! Put that down! (hisses)

Det. T'Surlak: This won't take long, Administrator. Just a few questions. When was the last time you saw your brother alive?

Quissrath: I'll really have to think about that...years. At least five, and then only at our adopted father's funeral. I'm still not sure whether to laugh or cry over that one.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I take it there was no love lost there.

Quissrath: Are you kidding? You saw the freak show exhibit he made out of Khormat.

Det. T'Surlak: Administrator, could I ask what you're doing with your brother's estate?

Quissrath: What estate? The Dragon's Castle in Malibu was foreclosed on, his bank accounts were drained, possibly to feed that damned Ginger habit, and that penthouse where they found him is a rental.

Det. Fitzsimmons: What about album sales, image rights...

Quissrath: Admittedly, those have turned out to be very lucrative, particularly after my brothers...well, you know. I still can't believe it, even if it doesn't surprise me. All that...

Det. Fitzsimmons (interrupting): I apologize, ma'am, but we have to ask the hard questions too. What do you estimate the income of these rights to be?

Quissrath: I haven't actually calculated, but thousands have come in already.

Det. Fitzsimmons: And what are your plans for the money?

Quissrath: I'm setting aside a trust fund for Goana and Gila, only expenses relating to them can draw from it and, eventually, education. And medical, if necessary. They will receive a hundred thousand each upon maturity, enough to get them started, but not so much. I saw what money did to Kormat. The rest, well over 95%, goes into a private foundation led by a board of trustees and will go to help abandoned, exploited, and missing children of all sentient species. Detective, I don't want any of that filthy money. I'm doing fine on my own, and I don't need the corruption that goes with it. I'd pay it all to have my brother alive...and healthy...again.

{Cut Scene}

Dets. T'Surlak & Fitzsimmons are leaving the house, pushing their way through a crowd of reporters, who swarm them, pushing microphones in their faces.

Reporter 1: Detectives, what were you visiting Quissrath for?

Reporter 2: Is she a suspect in Komodo's death?

Det. Fitzsimmons: No comment.

Reporter 3: Is foul play suspected?

Det. Fitzsimmons: No comment.

Det. T'Surlak: The department will issue a statement later.

Reporter 1: What about reports that Komodo was poisoned?

Reporter 4: What about the Agent, Mr. Clayborne?

Det. Fitzsimmons: No comment and no comment.

Reporter 3: Has the mayor's office pressured you to make a conviction?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Did I mention 'no comment'?

They force their way to the car, the reporters still hounding them. They drive away, Fitzsimmons at the wheel.

Det. T'Surlak (hissing): Damned jackals!

Det. Fitzsimmons: Welcome to the joy of a celebrity case.

Det. T'Surlak: I'd rather go up against the Five Families. So, what's your take on Quissrath?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Hard to say. On the surface she has motive. Sure, she's pushing it all into trust funds and the foundation, but we might want to dig deeper to see if she or anyone else with access to Komodo has any under-the-surface controls.

Det. T'Surlak: What about the 'slow poisoning'; if her story on not seeing him in years checks out...

Det. Fitzsimmons: ...we check on any links to any of the regular staff. There's an old game we Big Uglies play that we like to call conspiracy.

Det. T'Surlak: Sounds like a call to Munch?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Oh, hell no! Not this time. He'll try to pin it on the President, or something! We need to approach this one very carefully. 'NYPD Investigators Harass Grieving Sister, Philanthropist.' Those jackals out there would hump our legs over that scoop!

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part IV: Midnight Oil


Back at the precinct. It's late at night with dark windows and empty offices. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak sit at their desks with a pile of documents and books.

Det. T'Surlak (document stack in one hand, burrito in the other, talking with mouth half-full): You know, I'm no lawyer but from what I can tell the Komodo Hope Foundation's legit. I can't find a single financial throw-back to Quissrath, Clayborne, or anyone else in any way linked to the victim. All the board of trustees are to be hired by Gurney Services, an airtight philanthropy broker with a spotless record. Not only that, my snout says Quissrath's on the level.

Det. Fitzsimmons (half-eaten burger in front of him): I think your snout is right. There are no open links. Maybe there's an under-the-table deal, but we won't be able to establish anything there without a full investigation...once the Foundation begins running next year. Since you mentioned snouts I think it's worth mentioning that the Great Snout Count's coming up this November.

Det. T'Surlak: well, that explains the mayor's hurry to find a perp. Gotta look tough on crime for the Snouties.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Well, for the moment Quissy's moving down the list. Who else do we got?

Det. T'Surlak: Well, going down the list of those with regular contact with the victim, there's the maids, and the doctor, and the personal trainer, and the yoga instructor, and the voice coach, and the ginger dealer that we know must be there, whoever that is. Of course there's also Donald.

Det. Fitzsimmons: The ginger dealer: any chance the G was laced with the stuff? Big Uglies cut smack and blow with all manner of toxic crap, why not cut the Spice with helenalin?

Det. T'Surlak: It's a thought. Still, we need to find the dealer, or dealers. The autopsy showed enough Spice in his system to double the Lizard population of Australia overnight.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Talk about a bender. The doc. What about him? Anyone talked to him yet?

Det. T'Surlak: Not yet. They put out an APB to bring him in for questioning. So far he hasn't surfaced. The Department talked to the maids. One of them hasn't been there long enough and the other has no real motive we can tell.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Disgruntled employee?

Det. T'Surlak: Not a chance. Komodo may have been more addled than an egg in a dryer, but he was apparently a fair, friendly, and above all well paying boss.

Det. Fitzsimmons: The Goonybird that lays the golden eggs. What about the trainer and yoga teacher?

Det. T'Surlak: The former's in LA and the latter's been interviewed: with her, another case of no reason to kill him and every reason to keep him alive and paying. As for the trainer, he's a former TV actor himself, and here's the interesting part: since Komodo kicked the bucket his name's been all over the press again...and talent scouts are calling.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Sounds like motive to me!

Det. T'Surlak: It gets juicier: among his training methods was a daily health drink of his own concoction: malt, whey...raw eggs for God's sake (eye turret roll), and here's the kicker: herbal and vitamin supplements.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Motive and Opportunity...sounds like Mr. Universe just stepped up the list. (picks up a document) Sounds like we ought to have a word with Mr...oh hell.

Det. T'Surlak: What is it?

Det. Fitzsimmons: the trainer is Donny Carlino?

Det. T'Surlak: Yea, so?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Yea so...Donny 'The Titan' Carlino?

Det. T'Surlak: Mobster?

Det. Fitzsimmons (exasperated): You're kidding me, right? Didn't you ever watch TV? The Titan was this old show about this giant, well-muscled superhero named, well, The Titan. Drifted from town to town righting wrongs...the usual. Donny Carlino was the actor who played him. I loved that damned show.

Det. T'Surlak: You have any problems arresting a childhood idol?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Not if he's a murderer. Look, I know the difference between an actor and a role. If Donny's guilty I won't think twice about it.

Det. T'Surlak: That's what I figured, but I have to ask. Lord knows any defense attorneys will.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Well, looks like it's time to book a flight to LA.

Det. T'Surlak: Great, I can work on my tan.

Det. Fitzsimmons: While we're there we should talk to Donald. He knew the kid for years. No real motive I can tell, unless there's a link to the foundation, but he may have some leads...like who the ginger dealer is. My snout tells me that that tux-painted boobie-ogler hits the Spice himself.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part V: City of Angels


Los Angeles. Venice Beach. Sand, sun, and palm trees. Swimsuit-clad people and wild, unorthodoxly painted Race members walk by or roll by on rollerblades. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are looking utterly out of place, the former in his Investigator's body paint, the latter in a shirt and tie.

Det. T'Surlak: Now this is a climate! Maybe I'll reconsider moving here with the rest of the Lizards.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Easy for you to say. You can walk around in the scales.

Det. T'Surlak (noticing a woman roll by in a string bikini): I don't know; it looks like even Big Uglies can wander around nude in this town.

At a sidewalk cafe table sits Donny Carlino. He's signing an autograph and smiling. The Detectives approach.

Det. Fitzsimmons (flashing badge): Mr. Carlino? Can we have a word with you?

Carlino: Sure, have a seat. What can I help you with?

Det. T'Surlak: It's about Komodo. You were one of the last people to see him alive. What can you tell us about it?

Carlino: (sighs) That's such a sad story. The little guy had such a troubled life. As you must know I was his personal trainer. I tried to get him off of the ginger and into shape, and he seemed to be doing so well. I'm assuming it was the ginger that killed him, since there's been no announcement of the exact cause of death.

Det. Fitzsimmons (visibly squirming in his seat): Could you tell us about your workout program?

Carlino: Sure. It's pretty straight forward: two hours of calisthenics, two hours of resistance training, some stretching and pilates, nutrition counseling...

Det. T'Surlak: Tell us about the nutrition counseling.

Carino: Sure thing. It's rather straight forward: proper diet, plenty of fluids; well, in Race proportions, of course. I've studied up on Race health, nutrition and fitness so I can give my Race clients a good workout as well.

Det. Fitzsimmons: (cough) I'm assuming you also know what's toxic to the Race?

Carlino: Sure. Plenty of things to avoid. Take nougat: totally toxic. Nothing fatal, but causes scale bursitis and temporary blindness. Wheat grass, a common human supplement, has a compound that can be very damaging to the Yergsaalis...that's a filter organ like the liver.

Det. T'Surlak: Did you give anything to Komodo, supplement-wise?

Carlino: Yes, every visit, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. It's my patented Race Fuel supplement, part of my line of fitness and wellness products. I also have Man Fuel and Woman Fuel, plus Mom Fuel for expectant mothers, Bab...

Det. T'Surlak (interrupting): Can we get a list of the ingredients for this 'Race Fuel'?

Carlino: Well, that's a proprietary formula so I...um, wait, what's this...you don't think...?

Det. Fitzsimmons: I'm really sorry, but we just have to check out every angle.

Carlino (now looking visibly shaken): I, um...look, I'll talk to my business manager and see about getting you the ingredient list. Will you be willing to sign a non-disclosure? Also, what about my privacy? If this gets out that my formula is under investigation...

Det. T'Surlak: Your privacy and propriety will be respected, Mr. Carlino.

Det. Fitzsimmons: We'll have our people talk to your people.

Carlino: Um, thank you.

Det. T'Surlak: Just one more thing. We noticed that you have a new role in an upcoming movie.

Carlino (suddenly smiling and looking childishly contented): Oh, yea! I'm playing a lovable giant in a new kid's movie: The Wizard of Wonder Falls. I loved the book as a kid myself.

Det. Fitzsimmons: It's a classic.

Det. T'Surlak (snarky): I guess some good has come of this tragedy.

Carlino (serious and sad in a puppy-dog way): No...no good came from this. Komodo was my friend and I'd rather be training him than doing this movie.

{Cut Scene}

The detectives are at a beach-side stand getting food.

Det. T'Surlak: Wow, real fresh Azwaca regglems! So much better when it's not hard-frozen for transit.

Det. Fitzsimmons: So, what's the snout say?

Det. T'Surlak (taking a huge bite): Mmmm....smells great too!

Det. Fitzsimmons: On Carlino.

Det. T'Surlak: Oh...hmmm...hard to say. He acted like he was surprised by the questions, but he is an actor.

Det. Fitzsimmons: You've obviously never seen Return of Titan. They didn't hire him for his emotional range. My snout says he's honestly shocked by Komodo's death. Still, better keep him on the list.

Det. T'Surlak: A lot's going to depend on those lab results, but I'm certain they'll turn up negative. That said, if he was mixing up the supplement he could easily have slipped in the helenalin. He admitted to an in-depth knowledge of Race toxins. Motive, Opportunity, and probable Knowledge about the use of the murder weapon. He's still our number one in my book.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Yea, seems like I'm kicking my inner child to even think so, though. Maybe talking to Donald will help us get things in order.

At that moment a strange Race member in glittery body paint and feathers rolls by on a self-propelled white grand piano. He's flamboyantly playing a jazzed-up version of Rachmaninoff.

Det. T'Surlak (following the piano player with a wary turret): Somehow I doubt anything in this town is in order.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VI: The Mentor


Donald's Beverly Hills mansion. The Detectives are with Donald by a spacious, landscaped pool with a waterfall. The pool is surrounded by bikini-clad human women, all with exceedingly large breasts. Donald wears body paint reminiscent of a smoking jacket.

Donald: Komodo...dear lord, Komodo. I've known that Lizard since he was a hatchling. Back then his adopted father was his manager. Kid had talent, natural talent. Few Lizards can sing in a way pleasing to Big Uglies, but that kid had it, and daddy dearest was happy to milk it for all the cash he could. (hiss) I must say, I identified with the little guy. I, too, was raised by Big Uglies as you know.

Det. Fitzsimmons: DO you think that accounted for his...eccentricities?

They're interrupted by a buxom blonde in a push-up top serving drinks. Donald is receiving a martini, the detectives lemonade (Fitzsimmons) and iced consumme (T'Surlak). Donald locks an eye turret on the woman's cleavage while Fitzsimmons makes an effort not to stare. T'Surlak sends an exasperated turret to both Donald and to his partner.

Donald: Are you kidding? It's impossible not to be seriously screwed up being a Lizard in a humans' world. Look at me: a freaking Lizard with a breast fetish. I can't help myself. Growing up in a house full of human males. I find them...comforting. They remind me of childhood, or so my shrinks tell me. (hiss)

Det. T'Surlak: Believe me, I can sympathize too. I was raised by Lizards in Brooklyn and that was hard enough.

Donald sends two sympathetic turrets to T'Surlak.

Donald: I feel ya', rook-mate. (hiss) (gulps half the martini) Look, as weird as I am, Komodo had it worse. The fame...he found it too young, too naive. I was an adult and had support from my brothers, particularly Mickey. Of course dad went flying off into the depths of space, Jupiter or Uranus, or Home for all I know...(hiss) sorry.

Det. Fitzsimmons: It's fine, sir, take your time.

Donald (composing self): Well, Komodo, he couldn't take it, the pressure from his dad and the producers, the slavish devotion of the fans, not as a hatchling. That's why he hung out with the hatchlings, 'cause he had no childhood of his own. All those trash tabloid accusations...ginger doesn't work that way!

Det. T'Surlak: Um...sir.

Donald: Oh, yea, sorry. Anyway, it was the ginger that put him over the top. I have to admit my own fault there. When he reached maturity I let him come to one of my parties. The kid tried the spice there the first time. Now me...I float. I float and I float, but the kid, he dived in head first. Loved the stuff, and it did something to him. Burned him out. That was when he went all "Lizzo" on us. Do you think for a second he wasn't curried up to the Plane of the Emperors when he came up with the Claw Crawl?

Det. T'Surlak: It's been supposed.

Donald: Yea...a lot of supposing going on on all fronts. Anywho, I tried to be there for the kid. Hell, I tried to be the Lizard daddy neither of us ever had. I kept inviting him to the show. I even invested in him. That's how I paid for the pool and half the racks around it. I kept bringing him in, even when he started the surgeries. I guess if he couldn't be a real Lizard he thought he could be human, poor addled bastard.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Did you have any other financial dealing with him?

Donald: You kidding? Not after he dropped off the map after those show trials, skipping out on concerts I paid for. I cut my losses with the kid financially at that point, but I still visited with him on occasion. I just had to try to be there for the kid.

Det. Fitzsimmons: And how often did you meet him?

Donald: Maybe two, three times a year these last few. Frankly, the kid was too weird even for me any more.

Det. T'Surlak: What about Carlino, the trainer?

Donald: What, the Titan? Hells, I got him the job! He may be a washed-up actor, but he's got the skills on the fitness end, even for us Lizards. Helped get Komodo off the spice for a while, even, or so he told me.

Det. T'Surlak: Did you ever hear of any fallings-out between them?

Donald: What? (hiss) Give me a break. Titan loved the little Lizard like a nephew. Still does. The guy's like a little kid himself still playing Superman.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Anyone else? Anyone you know with a problem for Komodo? Anyone who saw him on a regular basis?

Donald: Ah...no one with a problem with him. Hell, even that quack he hired against my advice, even that snake oil peddler genuinely seemed to like the kid.

Det. Fitzsimmons: You mean Dr. Falk? The personal physician?

Donald: Yea, that quack. He's a minor legend around here, sells his services to any rich idiot that buys his heap. Big into 'new age' crap, herbals, acupuncture, humors and shakras. Injected the kid every day with a concoction of 'vitamins', he called it.

The detectives exchange a glance.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Do you know where to find Dr. Falk? Do you have his number?

Donald: I can hook you up, but don't bother. The quack's been missing for weeks. Pammy's been crying about it for days. Worthless girl, Pammy, but lord what a set of talents!

{Cut Scene}

LAX Airport. Intercom calling for a passenger. Background noise. People and Race members darting or lounging about.

Det. Fitzsimmons: This damned airport is as much a labyrinth as this damned case!

Det. T'Surlak: tell me about it. That's what happens when you design your buildings to fit the aesthetic of the moment. I may not be big on the Empire, but at least they understand functional design.

They pass a lounge. The speakers blast Komodo's "Claw Crawl".

Det. T'Surlak: (hiss) Is there no end to the Komodo songs?

Det. Fitzsimmons: You think that's bad... (walks up to gift shop, holds up a T-shirt "in memoriam" to Komodo)

Det. T'Surlak: (hiss) his body's not even [I]cold. Did they have these shirts in a warehouse somewhere, just waiting for the right moment?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Maybe we ought to look into the T-shirt companies. Maybe they had him offed.

Det. T'Surlak: You only think you're joking. Frankly, we... (he's interrupted by the hissing of his phone) ...just a second. (picks up phone) It's the precinct, returning our inquiry into the 'vitamin' shots. (to phone) Yea? and what's the result? (to Fitzsimmons) the crime scene boys found some of the discarded needles in the dumpster earlier but hadn't gotten to them. Once we reported the vitamin shots they ran the test: positive ID for all on traces of helenalin.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Great, we have the murder weapon. Now we just need to find the good doctor.

Det. T'Surlak: Well, we've got three hours' flight to figure out where he might be. I'm having the precinct send the files right to my phone.

Det. Fitzsimmons: So much for the in-flight movie.

Det. T'Surlak: It's probably a Komodo tribute anyway.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VII: Doctor Where?


District Attorney's office. ADAs Essval and Rothschild are at a conference table looking through papers.

ADA Rothschild: Looks like we have a pretty tight case on Dr. Death here. Half of the syringes are loaded with helenalin, not to mention something called thymol that gives the egg heads the idea we're looking at a wolfsbane herb extract.

ADA Essval: Please stop using the term 'egg heads'. I don't call morons 'fetus brains', do I?

ADA Rothschild: Hey, that's kind of funny, actually. But seriously, I'll just use 'block heads' or 'morons' if it bothers you, hon.

ADA Essval: Thanks, El. So, wolfsbane?

ADA Rothschild: yea, a plant common in Europe. The Polish Underground's been using it to poison Lizards since the 50s. As a trained Herbalist Dr. Death would know that.

ADA Essval: Says here he's not even a real doctor; no M.D., just a correspondence PhD. from "Healing Glory University".

ADA Rothschild: Yea, as the detectives say Donald put it, 'a quack'.

ADA Essval: Hmmm...Donald...quack.

ADA Rothschild: Yea, things are going just ducky, aren't they.

ADA Essval: Hon, I swear I've clawed eyes out over less. Now, we've got a good case, we have Weapon and Opportunity, we just need Motive.

ADA Rothschild: And Perp. The good doctor's nowhere to be found. The NYPD and even FBI have an APB out.

ADA Essval: Even the tightest case does little good if we don't have anyone to convict.


{Dun-Dun}

Dr. Falk's New York office. Alternative medicine complex on W. 52nd west of 9th Ave. Clinton, Midtown. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak are going through the doctor's files.

Det. T'Surlak: (hiss) what a mess. This guy's files are worse than your living room.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Hey, I resemble that. Ok, I have a leaflet on a 'health spa retreat' in Canada. Maybe he's hiding out there?

Det. T'Surlak: Possible. We can ask the DA to call the Mounties and have them check it out. Wait, here's a receipt for European 'herbal extract' purchases. Among the purchases is 'Extract, Arnica root' and 'Extract, Arnica flower'. That word sounds familiar.

Det. Fitzsimmons (flipping through a pocket notebook): Ah...bingo. Arnica montana is the scientific name for wolfsbane. Good turreting.

Det. T'Surlak: Thanks. And for the love of Pete why don't you get a Clawpad like the rest of us this millennium?

Det. Fitzsimmons: I like my old fashioned notebook. Besides, Lt. Van Buren can't send me hisses through this.

Det. T'Surlak (bagging the receipt and getting out his own Clawpad): That reminds me, I should send her a hiss about the retreat and the receipt.

Det. Fitzsimmons: No kidding. She'd skin us alive if we didn't. You, at least, would make a good handbag and matching pumps. I'd be lucky to qualify as a lampshade.

Det. T'Surlak (clawing at the screen of the Clawpad in his hand): There...hissed. Now, any other bright ideas on where to find this guy?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Hard to say. If he's smart he's hiding in the woods of Canada...assuming knowing herbs means you also know edible plants.

Det. T'Surlak: Well, according to the latest hiss from the Lieutenant LAPD has been talking to the doc's other patients, including that chick with the big milk sacks you and Donald go addled over. The one from that beach show.

Det. Fitzsimmons: No kidding. What's she have to say?

Det. T'Surlak: 'Shocked'...wow, quite a scoop there. Says here that a B-tier actor named Keenu, or something, met with the doc just before his last visit to Komodo, says the doc mentioned going to NYC to see a client, but nothing more. Huh...

Det. Fitzsimmons: What?

Det. T'Surlak: Would you believe that Cruise is an Emperor Worshiper?

Det. Fitzsimmons: You didn't know that? A lot of those Hollyweird types got into it. That or Sufi Mysticism. Anything else? Of importance?

Det. T'Surlak: (hiss) Pardon me for sharing. (claws at screne for a moment) Here we go...Daemon told the LAPD that Dr. Falk regularly visits Brazil for 'herb shopping'. I'll hiss Agent Anderson at the FBI to run the passport scan again.

Det. Fitzsimmons: (snorts) Good luck getting anything from the FBI.

Det. T'Surlak: Ha! Got him! His passport was scanned a few days ago leaving LAX for Brazzaville. They missed it earlier because the passport's under "Eugene Symington", his real name.

Det. Fitzsimmons (dumbfounded): You got that already?

Det. T'Surlak: My friend, you really need to upgrade your technology.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VIII: The Gambit


DA Jack McCoy's conference room. In addition to McCoy, ADAs Essval and Rothschild are there, as are three Race members in official body paint, one that of an Ambassador's Liason and two Legal Councilors. They're sitting around the conference table.

Liaison Dessrep: I'm afraid that releasing Healer Symington into your not-empire's custody is not authorized. He has applied for asylum under the Tosevite Ethnic Refugees act which your not-empire signed.

DA McCoy: Now wait a...what? 'Ethnic Refugee'? He's white Anglo-Saxon protestant! That act covers minorities, which he most definitely is not in this nation! He's taking advantage of the fact that the Race has trouble differentiating ethnicity!

Liaison Dessrep: Healer Symington asserts that he's 1/32nd Mohawk Indian.

DA McCoy: Oh for the love of...look. We didn't know about this supposed ancestry before, and we don't care now. What we care about is that the man murdered another citizen of our nation. A citizen who was a member of your own Race! I'd think you'd want to bring him to justice as much as anyone!

ADA Essval: He killed with a poison deadly only the the Race once...what makes you think he won't start killing in Brazil?

Liaison Dessrep: Healer Symington declares his innocence to the charge. He maintains he's being scapegoated as part of a cover-up. He claims your government was more than happy to kill a Race member that was embarrassing it.

DA McCoy: That it so ludicrous I can't see straight anymore. That's what we call a 'conspiracy theory', and it's the product of addled and paranoid brains.

Liaison Dessrep: (locks eye turrets on McCoy) That matters little. The Application for asylum is being supported. I'm sorry, Judicator McCoy, but the decision is made.

{Dun-Dun}


McCoy's office. ADAs Rothschild and Essval are there. McCoy is pacing, looking irate.

DA McCoy: Of all the ridiculous things...one-thirty-second Mohawk?

ADA Rothschild: It has little to do with ethnicity, Jack. The Empire is making a stand. All the Race members our nation has taken in over the years are an embarrassment to the Empire, and now that they have an asylum-seeker in a high-profile case they're taking the opportunity to strike back.

ADA Essval: She's right. The Race still feels like they're the proper rulers of this planet and the natural rulers of all members of the Race. Every Race member living in America is a slap to the snout.

McCoy paces some more, sighs.

DA McCoy: Look, I want that so-called doctor and I want him now. The Mayor is on my case to end this media circus because the Governor is on his case! We need to find a way.

ADA Essval: Do we have any prisoners to exchange?

ADA Rothschild: We made need to call the State Department.

DA McCoy: The speed in which federal wheels turn is far too slow for me. We need to gain leverage directly. (thinks) The Fat-Stripers!

ADA Rothschild: What?

DA McCoy: the Fat-Stripers! Those mystery-Lizards with the hidden body paint signs. One theory is that they're Imperial anti-ginger agents. I bet if we start bringing them in and disrupt the Empire's operations we can really get the ball rolling.

ADA Essval: And on what pretext do we start arresting these Race members?

DA McCoy: Put out an APB. The Fat-Stripers are to be considered a dangerous gang. Enhanced RICO investigation methods are authorized.

ADA Essval (horrified): You're authorizing the flagrant targeting of any Race member with hidden body paint?!

DA McCoy: Yes. Officers are authorized to approach all Fat-Stripers under suspicion of ginger possession.

ADA Rothschild: So you're basically giving the Precinct carte blanche to profile Fat-Stripers. The press might not like that.

DA McCoy: They will when it's know that they're 'dangerous members of a new organized crime syndicate.'

ADA Essval: Press, hell...wait until the FBI hears this. I'm sure you'll be trampling on their investigation.

{Cut Scene}

A street corner. Three Race members are talking animatedly. Two are El Lagarto gang, one is in Janitorial body paint with a wide lateral blue stripe. It appears to be a ginger deal in progress. Two uniformed officers approach.

Officer 1: Excuse me, but could we have a word with you guys?

The El Lagato members bolt. The second uniformed officer runs and is quickly able to grab the Fat-Striper before he too bolts.

Officer 2 (pulling out a baggie of ginger): Well, well...doing a little Cantonese cooking?

{Cut Scene}

Two other uniformed officers are in a patrol car driving down Pitt.

Officer 2 (passenger seat): Hey, look. (points to a Race member in Vehicle Operator's body paint walking down the street)

Officer 1: Looks like another bad paint job. (throws on siren, pulls over)

Officer 2 (getting out of the car; 'cameraman' in the back seat follows): Excuse me, may we have a word?

{Cut Scene}

9th Precinct. Detectives T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are walking past a loud room full of hissing, yelling Race members, all Fat-Stripers.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Looks like 'Operation Fatty' has been a success.

Det. T'Surlak: If only we did this with real gangs maybe we could finally get those thugs off the streets. Why are we after these guys anyway? Assuming Munch is right isn't international espionage a little over our pay grades?

Det Fitzsimmons: Knowing Jack he's got some crazy plan...like getting Doctor Death extradited.

Det. T'Surlak: As if our job wasn't addled enough.

{Cut Scene}

McCoy's office. DA McCoy is on the phone. ADAs Essval and Rothschild are there.

DA McCoy: Yes...yes...oh, really? Hot damn, that's the best news I;ve had in a month! (hangs up) We got him!

ADA Rothschild: Symington?

DA McCoy: Doctor Death in on a transport to La Guardia as we speak!

{Cut Scene}

La Guardia Airport. Dr. Symington is walking down the terminal. An armada of press has converged. He attempts to cover his face. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons approach.

{Dramatic Music}

Det. T'Surlak: Eugene Symington, aka 'Eugenitas Falk', you are under arrest for the murder of Komodo. (starts to handcuff him and starts to read him his rights) 'You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney...'

Dr. Symington: This is ridiculous! Komodo was my friend and patient!

Det. Fitzsimmons (guiding him along with a hand on the back): Yea, nothing says friendship like a fatal Hot Shot for breakfast.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part IX: Pre-Trial


Bond Hearing, People of New York vs. Eugene Symington

Empty Courtroom. "Dr." Symington and his lawyer, a very colorfully- and somewhat revealingly-dressed woman from LA (Barbara Amelie) are standing before Judge Gonzales, as is ADA Rothschild.

Judge Gonzales: The court will begin bond deliberation, Docket number 5-5-3-7-2, City of New York vs. Eugene Symington, Murder one. Councilor Rothschild?

ADA Rothschild: Yes, Your Honor, the People consider Mr. Symington a flight risk based on his recent attempt at asylum in Empire territory and request remand and forfeiture of his passport.

Judge Gonzales: Yes, you made quite a show of luring him back, I recall. (turns to Amelie) Councilor, your client?

Ms. Amelie: Yes, Your Honor, Mr. Symington feels he is the victim of scapegoating by the City rather than in any way culpable. That said, he is here and he will willingly stand trial. We see no reason for remand.

Judge Gonzales: Really? He feels he's a target of a massive government plot such that he felt the need to play the race card to the Race over his smattering of Native American blood, but he's willing to be a good boy and play by the rules now?

Ms. Amelie (looking irked): Yes, Your Honor.

Judge Gonzales: Right. Ms. Rothschild?

ADA Rothschild: Your Honor, his immediate attempt to leave the country after the death speaks both of a guilty conscience and an attempt to flee justice.

Ms. Amelie: Your Honor, the tickets were purchased well in advance of Mr. Komodo's unfortunate accident...

ADA Rothschild (interrupting): ...which merely supports premeditation...

Ms. Amelie (interrupting): ...a year in advance on the same trip he makes every year? That's a patient killer.

Judge Gonzales: That's enough, both of you. Save it for the actual trial. The Court orders remand, bail set at five million dollars, and orders forfeiture of passport. (hits gavel) And Ms. Amelie, just a word of advice: I'm not sure how you do things in LA, but here in NYC we have decorum standards in the courtroom, ergo you might consider a change of wardrobe. The only thing you're flirting with in that outfit here is Contempt.

{Dun-Dun}


Three Months later.

DA's office. A Conference room ADAs Essval and Rothschild sit across the table from Attorney Amelie (now dressed in a less revealing but still very pink skirt-suit) and Mr. Symington.

ADA Essval: The People are willing to grant Man 1, but that's as far as we're willing to go.

Mr. Symington: But I didn't kill him...or didn't mean to, certainly!

Ms. Amelie (shushing her client): What my client means to say is that we are willing to accept Man 2, nothing more.

ADA Rothschild: Your client shot up the victim regularly with a known Race toxin then fled to Brazil and we're to believe it was an accident?

Ms. Amelie: Yes, my client honestly believed and in good conscience that he was administering a proper medical regimen to his close friend Mr. Komodo.

ADA Rothschild: By injecting him with poison?

Ms. Amelie: Aconitum is a known and well-regarded holistic remedy for swelling, which Mr. Komodo was suffering after his surgery.

ADA Essval: It's also a known and well-regarded Race poison. Murder 2 or trial.

Ms. Amelie: I guess if the People of New York are so hell-bent on being unreasonable, then trial it shall be.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part X: The Trial


{Dun-Dun}

Trial Day One. A gauntlet of press awaits outside the courthouse. ADAs Essval and Rothschild must force their way through with police escort. A Cacophony of crosstalk rapid-fire questions assault them.

Reporter 1: Bram Stockman, ANN; any work for our viewers on the coming case?

ADA Rothschild: Yes: "No Comment", and you can feel free to quote me on that.

They force their way through.

{Cut Scene}

In the courtroom. The gallery is packed with family, friends, press, and big name Hollywood people, including Donald in Business Suit and Power Tie body paint flanked by busty women. It is loud and carnival-like. Things quiet to a sussuruss as the jury enters. The jury is 9 Humans, 3 Race.

ADA Essval: Wow, even circuses have some sense of decorum.

Bailiff: All Rise! The Honorable Judge Eduardo Gonzales presiding!

Judge Gonzales takes the bench and hits his gavel until all quiet down.

Judge Gonzales: Court Docket number 5-5-3-7-2, City of New York vs. Eugene Symington, Murder in the First Degree. Ms. Amelie, how does your client plead?

Ms. Amelie (in a bright pastel blue designer skirt-suit): Not Guilty, Your Honor.

Judge Gonzales: Very well. Ms. Rothschild? You may begin.

ADA Rothschild: Thank you, Your Honor, the People call Dr. Hipolito Rodriguez to the stand.

The bailiff swears Dr. Rodriguez in and he takes a seat.

ADA Rothschild: Dr. Rodriguez, could you please state for the court your occupation and credentials?

Dr. Rodriguez: I'm a doctor of biochemistry at John Hopkins Medical Center specializing in Race Physiology and Pharmacology.

ADA Rothschild: The Prosecution would like to recognize Dr. Rodriguez as an expert on Race toxins, Your Honor.

Judge Gonzales: Noted.

ADA Rothschild: Dr. Rodriguez, could you tell us a bit about the plant Aconitum?

Dr. Rodriguez: Yes, plants of the genus Aconitum, wolfsbane being the most well-known, contain large amounts of a compound called Helenalin, a lactone which is highly toxic to the Race. It builds up in the Numaric membranes causing necrosis of the Numaric sacs. The victim dies slowly of circulatory failure as the blood becomes deoxygenated.

ADA Rothschild: so, a poison.

Dr. Rodriguez: A highly effective one. It's seen use in underground movements in Poland and the Mediterranean for decades and according to Imperial records Helenalin, or Shazzkhat from plant genii native to Home has been used for millennia as an assassin's weapon.

ADA Rothschild: And the defendant, as a self-declared expert on holistic medicines, should have known this already.

Ms. Amelie: Objection! Speculation and biasing!

Judge Gonzales: Sustained. The jury is instructed to ignore that remark. Stick to the facts, councilor.

ADA Rothschild: Sorry, Your Honor. Dr. Rodriguez, can you tell us what the autopsy report on Komodo concluded as a cause of death?

Dr. Rodriguez: Yes: "Helenalin Poisoning over the course of several weeks". It went further to state that a lack of significant presence of the toxin in the victim's digestive tract or anywhere on the skin indicates that the Helenalin was administered through other methods, most likely injection or IV.

ADA Rothschild: Thank you, Doctor, that will be all. Your witness.

Ms. Amelie (approaching slowly and in an almost but not blatantly flirtatious manner): Dr. Rodriguez, can I call you Hipolito? Oh, anyway... You're an expert on Race Physiology...you know much about the Human body?

Dr. Rodriguez (a little unsettled, clearing throat): Um, yes. I have a good knowledge of Human Physiology and Biochemistry.

Ms. Amelie: So, this Aconitum stuff...does it have any effect on us Tosevites?

Dr. Rodriguez: Um, yes. The species napellus has acontine alkaloids that are highly poisonous to Humans and has been used as a poison since Roman times.

Ms. Amelie: What about that Helenalin stuff, anything there?

Dr. Rodriguez (now getting more relaxed as he gets to talk shop): Oh, yes! It's toxic to Humans too, in large amounts, and has some pharmacological value as an anti-inflammatory and anti-tumor remedy.

Ms. Amelie: You mean it's a medicine? And anti-inflammatory medicine?

Dr. Rodriguez: Um, if administered properly it can have certain medicinal effects. It's seen use as an anti-inflammatory for centuries...

Ms. Amelie (interrupting): Centuries? You mean as a holistic medicine?

Dr. Rodriguez: Well, yes.

Ms. Amelie: Thank you, doctor. Now, in your professional opinion might it see use as an anti-swelling agent for, say, post-cosmetic surgery?

Dr. Rodriguez: I don't see why not...in Humans, at least.

Ms. Amelie: Now, if someone who, say, was used to treating Humans but didn't know this stuff was toxic to the race, is there a chance for accidental poisoning?

Dr. Rodriguez: Certainly. In fact many people falsely assume that holistic or "natural" medicines are inherently safe. That couldn't be farther from the truth! Like any pharmacological agent they have effects and side effects and have the possibility for bad interactions with other drugs or even foods. Hell, if half the people who take St. John's Wort supplements over the counter knew the danger such MAOIs have for negative interactions with common foods like pistachios they'd think twice before self-administering it! In one case...

Ms. Amelie (interrupting): That is all, thank you so much, Dr. Rodriguez!

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XI: Desperation and Discovery


Courtroom. The precinct Forensic doctor, Dr. Amanda D'Onofrio, is on the stand.

ADA Essval: So, Dr. D'Onofrio, you're positive that the cause of death was Helenalin poisoning?

Dr. D'Onofrio: Absolutely. All the physiological indicators are there: Numaric necrosis, enlarged Vurgarathma, dehydration, optic paralysis...

ADA Essval: And in your opinion how was the poison administered?

Dr. D'Onofrio: Injection. There is no significant presence of the toxin in the digestive tract, indicating consumption was unlikely, no scale discoloration suggesting under-scale application, and no nasal hemorrhaging that would suggest inhalation. However, significant presence of the toxin at the sites of the victim's numerous injection tracks are consistent with low-dose injection poisoning over the course of weeks.

ADA Essval: Thank you, doctor, that is all.

Judge Gonzales: Defense? Care to cross-examine?

Ms. Amelie: Why yes, Your Honor. (to Dr. D'Donofrio) Dr. D'Onofrio, in your opinion when did the injections begin?

Dr. D'Onofrio: I'd estimate daily injections began 13 days before the victim's death.

Ms. Amelie: 13 days...that'd be just about the time Mr. Komodo had finished his latest cosmetic surgery. Were there any other chemicals in the injection sites?

Dr. D'Onofrio: Yes, actually. There was Bromelain plant enzyme, spectrographical analysis suggests extracted from pineapple, Glucosamine Sulfide and Calcium from seashell powders, and Turmeric. And likely a saline base.

Ms. Amelie: Hmmm...those are strange. Any of them have any pharmacological effects on the Race?

Dr. D'Onofrio: Bromelain has a very mild irritant effect, but was not present in chemically significant amounts high enough to cause any effect. Glucosamine is simply not recognized by the Race body and is flushed with body waste. Calcium has the same role in bones as Humans, but may be there as an unintentional co-chemical from the shells likely intended for the Glucosamine. Turmeric is inert and has no pharmacological effects of note.

Ms. Amelie: Wow, how seemingly random. (pauses, puts on stylish pink horn-rim glasses looks through notes on legal pad, removes glasses and bites frame ear brace as if thinking) Are there any pharmacological effects of these substances in humans? Any common effects they all share.

Dr. D'Onofrio: Hmmm...actually, yes. Bromelain, Glucosamine Sulfide, and Turmeric all have anti-inflammatory effects and have seen use holistically.

Ms. Amelie: As has Helenalin, yes?

Dr. D'Onofrio: Yes.

Ms. Amelie: All of the substances Mr. Symington admittedly injected into his friend and patient, the late Mr. Komodo, have holistic application as anti-inflammatory agents, at least in Humans, yes?

Dr. D'Onofrio: Yes.

Ms. Amelie: And these small, periodic injections of these anti-Inflammatory holistic drugs began at about 13 days ago, about the time Mr. Komodo completed his latest cosmetic surgery, a process that causes swelling and is typically treated with anti-inflammatory drugs. A slow, daily application rather than an all-at-once poisoning. Sounds to me like someone was attempting to treat the swelling, not kill the patient.

ADA Essval: Objection! Leading towards a conclusion!

Judge Gonzales: Sustained. Strike that from the record.

Ms. Amelie: Dr. D'Onofrio, in your professional opinion was the intention of these injections for treatment or murder?

ADA Essval: Objection! Speculation!

Judge Gonzales: Sustained. Councilor?

Ms. Amelie: I'm so sorry, Your Honor, I'll rephrase. Doctor, have you ever, in your experience as a forensic pathologist, seen a case of accidental poisoning caused by attempted medical treatment.

ADA Essval: Objection! Relevance?

Ms. Amelie: I'm establishing that accidental poisoning is not only possible, but a common occurrence. It's a foundation of my client's defense.

Judge Gonzales: Objection is overruled, but make it quick, councilor. Doctor, you may answer the question.

Dr. D'Onofrio: Yes, accidental poisonings by untrained or under-trained or otherwise negligent would-be doctors has occurred many times in my experience. Just the other week I testified in a case where a man self-administered foxglove tea for his hyperythmic heart and died of heart dysrythmia.

Ms. Amelie: Thank you, Doctor, that is all.

ADA Essval: Your Honor, redirect?

Judge Gonzales: Go ahead, councilor.

ADA Essval: Dr. D'Onofrio, have you ever testified on a case where slow daily poisoning was used for murder rather than an immediate fatal dose?

Dr. D'Onofrio: Certainly; it's a common poisoning method. Last year, for example, a housekeeper that was having an affair with the husband added a little bit of arsenic to the wife's coffee every day in an effort to end the marriage and claim the husband.

ADA Essval: Thank you, doctor, that is all.

{Cut Scene}


DA's office. DA McCoy and ADAs Essval and Rothschild are talking. They look stressed and downtrodden.

DA McCoy: My God, they're killing us slowly out there! Every witness we put up she turns into her own witness. Hell, I'm almost convinced he killed the Little Dragon by accident myself!

ADA Rothschild: We can still accept the plea for Man 2.

DA McCoy: I said 'almost'. No, he's guilty, I'm sure. Besides, the mayor is screaming at me for a conviction. He's getting flooded with calls by irate Komodo fans demanding blood.

ADA Essval: Not to mention the great Snout Count is coming up in November. Kerns' ad hatchet men are tearing up the mayor's record on crime and have specifically singled out the Komodo murder.

DA McCoy (standing up and looking out the window): We need something more, a greater motive. Something concrete. Have the detectives snoop around and see what they can dig up.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XII: Past Indiscretions


The Precinct, after dark. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are flipping through papers. There are Styrofoam takeout containers.

Det. Fitzsimmons (taking a bite): Gah, this ham is pure salt! What did you lizards do to perfectly good ham?

Det. T'Surlak: Don't blame us, it's a Human recipe. Country Ham, common in the south. Us Lizards merely created a market for it up here. Try the Red Eye Gravy, it's made with coffee, you'll like it.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I'll pass. (flips through some papers) Okay, Dr. Death had speeding ticket in 1984; we got him, alright. Class A criminal here.

Det. T'Surlak: Where and what speed?

Det. Fitzsimmons: 78 on I-95 through the Bronx.

Det. T'Surlak: So he was driving dangerously slow? (hisses) This is a waste of time. This guy's a friggin' Boy Scout except for the possible murder 1.

Det. Fitzsimmons: We're running out of time, too. The Prosecution had to rest already and the defense is going through their witnesses. I caught the list on ANN. There's more stars than in the galaxy. Hoping to star-blind the jury, I guess, or make it so convoluted they don't know what to think.

Det. T'Surlak: If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullcrap.

{Time Skip}

A couple of hours have passed. The two look more worn and exhausted. Fitzsimmons' tie is undone. T'Surlak's body paint is streaked.

Det. Fitzsimmons (visibly tired, voice strained): Holy crap, I think I found something.

Det. T'Surlak (similarly strained and exhausted): What?

Det. Fitzsimmons: A college newspaper article from the late 80s. It seems an anti-Race activist named, you guessed it, Eugene Symington decried the abuses of the Race. "These damned Lizards invaded our planet and subjugated most of the population. Were it not for the brave sacrifices of our fathers, men like my uncle who died on the Chicago front, they'd have made servile slaves of us all! Mere death is too good for the scaly imperialist bastards."

Det. T'Surlak: Okay, angry youth who changed his ways, or closet Race Hater who finally got his chance to strike the great blow for Humanity?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Who cares? Let the Legal Eagles figure that one out. Let's see if anything else pops up on Mr. Symington's sordid past.

{Dun-Dun}


Judge's Chambers. ADAs Rothschild and Essval and Councilor Amelie sit across from Judge Gonzales.

Ms. Amelie (holding up the newspaper clipping): Your Honor, this supposed evidence is flagrantly biasing! My client appears to have said some unfortunate things...is that any different than any angry youth? The 80's were a hot time in Human-Race relations, what with the growing cases of Leukemia after the nuclear exchanges of the 60's. Since that time my client has shown absolutely no signs of Race Hate!

ADA Essval: Your Honor, it goes to motive. It establishes a long history of Race Hatred and proves that the accused is capable of holding violent enmity towards the Race...enmity that in this case manifested in the premeditated murder of Mr. Komodo, a high-profile Race member, controversial in his blurring the lines between Human and Race.

Judge Gonzales: Ms. Essval, I must mention that halfway through the Defense's arguments is an odd time to be introducing new evidence.

ADA Rothschild: Your Honor, Colletton vs. Scipio sets precedent for late evidence entry in cases where new evidence appears in felony cases when such evidence clearly establishes guilt or culpability.

Judge Gonzales: I'm aware of Colletton v. Scipio. The question is whether this evidence very clearly establishes anything.

Ms. Amelie: Your Honor, it's a desperation move by the prosecution. DA McCoy wants a high level conviction and is willing to do anything to get it. Witness the heavy-handed tactics to force the extradition of my client.

Judge Gonzales: Ms. Rothschild? Ms. Essval? You care to respond?

ADA Rothschild: Yes, Your Honor. I wish to state for the record that this is a murder trial and the accused is accused of murder. Our goal is to get a man the evidence supports is a murderer off the streets, high-profile or not. DA McCoy's actions in gaining extradition have no bearing here. The evidence clearly points out a long-standing hatred of the Race, which brings motive, which is clearly an establishment of guilt when weighed against the physical evidence. Anything else is irrelevant.

Ms. Amelie: Your Honor, this evidence is circumstantial at best, and frankly any cursory look at Mr. Symington's actions since make the whole "evidence" fall apart!

Judge Gonzales: In that case, Councilor, it shouldn't be too unreasonable to defend against in court. I'll admit the evidence to be allowable in cross-examinations only. (turns to ADAs Essval and Rothschild) Councilors, you have your evidence. Let the jury decide whether the evidence warrants attention or not.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Conclusion: the Verdict


Back at the courtroom. Defense has the stand.

Judge Gonzales: Madam councilor, you may call your next witness.

Ms. Amelie: Thank you, Your Honor. The defense calls Eugene Symington to the stand. (murmurs from the audience)

Bailiff: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

Mr. Symington: I do.

Judge Gonzales: You may take the stand. (he does)

Ms. Amelie: Doctor Symington, could you please describe to the court your relationship with Mr. Komodo?

Mr. Symington: Yes, he was my client as a holistic healer and my friend. I was introduced to him by other clients in LA and I began him on a regimen of vitality supplements and immune boosters.

Ms. Amelie: And had you any Race clients before Mr. Komodo?

Mr. Symington: No, he was the first. I'd known plenty of Race members living in LA but he was the first client.

Ms. Amelie: And do you know anything about Race physiology?

Mr. Symington (looking embarrassed and depressed) No, I did not. I'd assumed we were both creations of this great cosmos, both possessed of eternal souls, so I (chokes up for a second and composes self) wrongfully assumed we'd be physiologically similar and amenable to the same universal healing forces.

Ms. Amelie: And did you have any problems with the Race?

Mr. Symington: No...at least not any more. Like a lot of young men in the 80's I let my anger at the war translate wrongfully into anger at the Race. I saw the error of my ways as I matured. Now I count many of the Race among my friends. I (chokes) considered Komodo my friend.

Ms. Amelie (handing him a tissue): There there, Eugene, please take your time. (pause while he composes himself) Now, please tell us about the anti-inflammatory treatments.

Mr. Symington: Ok...well, as everyone knew Komodo was into cosmetic surgery. In his role as a uniter, as one brave enough to blur the false separations between Man and Race, he began a series of transformative surgeries. The latest was a rhinoplasty...a "nose job". After the subdermal implant he suffered from swelling and bruising. He asked me to assist and... (choke up)

Ms. Amelie: Take your time.

Mr. Symington: I began him on a regimen of wolfsbane, pineapple stem extract, seashell powder, and turmeric...all common holistic anti-inflammatory treatments... (choke) It was the wolfsbane that had the helenalin that...killed my friend.

Ms. Amelie: And why didn't you notice he was getting ill?

Mr. Symington: The ginger...the damned ginger. It's effects masked the normal poisoning symptoms. I tried so hard to get him off of it...if only I'd taken the clue from the ginger that the Race responds differently to... (chokes up, tears stream down his face)

Ms. Amelie: Mr. Symington, here's the big question: did you intend to harm or kill your friend, Mr. Komodo.

Mr. Symington (still crying): No...absolutely not.

Ms. Amelie: Thank you, Eugene. That will be all.

Judge Gonzales (giving Symington a moment to compose himself): Councilors, your witness.

ADA Rothschild: Mr. Symington, you are not an actual doctor, correct?

Mr. Symington: I have a doctorate in Holistic Arts from New Age university, so yes, I am a doctor.

ADA Rothschild: But not a licensed doctor with a degree from an accredited university?

Mr. Symington: No, not in the so-called traditional ways.

ADA Rothschild: Mr. Symington, you claim to be a doctor. You also claim Komodo was your friend and that you have no ill will towards the Race, is that correct?

Mr. Symington: (looking hurt) Yes, he was my friend and no, I do not have any problems with the Race.

ADA Rothschild (presenting the newspaper): Prosecution Exhibit G, Your Honor.

Judge Gonzales: Noted and admitted.

ADA Rothschild: Mr. Symington, I have here a newspaper from October 14th, 1988, the UCLA Daily Bruin to be precise. In it you were interviewed as a member of the Student's Earth Liberation Organization, a radical anti-Empire group dedicated to "freeing the imprisoned Humans of earth from the Alien Oppressors", is this not true?

Mr. Symington (looking embarrassed): Yes, I was with that group for a short time, but I left...

ADA Rothschild (interrupting): Did you not serve as Recording Secretary for this group from Fall 1988 to Spring 1989?

Mr. Symington (looking irked): Yes, yes I did, and I'm asha...

ADA Rothschild (again interrupting): And did you not say in the interview with the Bruin, and I quote: "These damned Lizards invaded our planet and subjugated most of the population. Were it not for the brave sacrifices of our fathers, men like my uncle who died on the Chicago front, they'd have made servile slaves of us all! Mere death is too good for the scaly imperialist bastards"?

Mr. Symington: (sigh) Yes, I regret that I said that, but I...

ADA Rothschild (interrupting yet again): So you fully admit being a member, an elected officer, even, of this radical, Race-hating organization, one that in 1993 was caught smuggling arms to Polish rebels? Polish rebels who regularly use wolfsbane as a poison against the Race, I might add.

Mr. Symington (very annoyed): Look, yes I was a... (turns to judge) Your Honor, may I get a chance to fully respond to the accusations without being cut off?

Judge Gonzales: Yes, Mr. Symington, you may speak. Councilor, please allow the witness to complete his response.

Mr. Symington: Thank you, Your Honor. Look, I already admitted under oath I one harbored ill-directed anger towards the Race, unfairly blaming a people for the actions of a handful of imperialists within their diverse community. I took actions that in hindsight are regrettable, embarrassing and shameful. I'm disgusted that I belonged to such a group and I left it in '89 when I saw that it was becoming an instrument of violence and not passive resistance. I had no idea about any arms shipments to Poland. That was well after my time. I had no contacts with Polish rebels and I had no idea that they used wolfsbane as poison. Thank you, that is all.

ADA Rothschild: So, you suddenly and completely stopped this unilateral anger at those "Damned Lizards" who "invaded" and "subjugated" humanity? At those "Lizards" who killed your uncle at Chicago? Suddenly the angry young revolutionary becomes a passive, happy, Race-loving herb doctor and all's good and well?

Mr. Symington: Yes! Yes, God, a man can change! I saw the error of my ways! I saw that my anger was misplaced!

ADA Rothschild: Yet here you went and killed a high-notoriety Race member, one who had the audacity to think of himself as Human?

Mr. Symington: It was an accident! For the love of God it was an accident! I was careless...and my friend...my friend is dead! I'll have to carry the guilt with me for the rest of my life!

ADA Rothschild: Or let's take a moment to look at this another way: you hated the Race and still hate the race! You knew that wolfsbane was poisonous to "damned Lizards" and saw your chance to kill one of the hated "imperialist bastards"! You saw a chance to not only kill a Race member, but perhaps the Race member in the United States of America: a pop music legend, a high-visibility Race member who mocked your humanity!

Mr. Symington: No! No, for God's sake! (starts sobbing, body convulsing, tears streaming) Oh God, God fogive me! I killed him! I killed my friend! I...I wanted to help him! I wanted to help...he was supposed to be my way to redeem myself! He was the one to wash away my sins! They beat that Race member, they beat her near to death! My "comrades" in the SELO...they beat her, and I watched! I did nothing! I let it happen! Oh, God, why did I ever hate so? Why did I allow such anger to fester? I wanted...wanted to redeem myself! I wanted to save him, save Komodo, not hurt him! If I could help him learn to love himself maybe I could learn to love my self again! (breaks down)

The courtroom is silent as he sobs, face in his hands.

Judge Gonzales (after a moment): Councilor? Anything else?

ADA Rothschild (shocked): Um...no. No your Honor.

{Time Skip; dramatic music}


Judge Gonzales: Ladies and Gentlemen, Males and Females of the Jury, have you come to a consensus?

Fore-male: Yes, Your Honor. A 10-2 majority decision.

Judge Gonzales: And do you have a verdict?

Fore-Male: Yes, Your Honor, we do. (hands paper to bailiff, bailiff hands paper to judge)

Judge Gonzales: Mr. Symington, please rise (he does). (opening paper) On the primary count, Murder in the First Degree the Court finds the Defendant, Mr. Eugene Symington...Not Guilty. (Symington bows head). On the secondary count, Manslaughter in the Second Degree, the Court finds the defendant Guilty and he shall be remanded for sentencing. Mr. Symington, do you have anything you wish to tell the court?

Mr. Symington: Only that I wish to apologize. I was ignorant...ignorant and arrogant. I thought I could treat my friend, but I poisoned him. He is dead because of me and I will willingly take whatever sentence the State deems fit.

{Cut Scene; dramatic music continues}


DA's Office. DA McCoy looks peeved.

DA McCoy: Damn it. He got away.

ADA Rothschild: Did he?

DA McCoy: He killed Komodo in cold blood, I know it. Instead he's getting three and a half years, eligible for parole in two.

ADA Essval: Maybe, I don't know. I used to think he was a cold blooded murderer, particularly after that newspaper article surfaced, but after hearing his testimony...

ADA Rothschild: The Female that he mentioned must have been Passalit, a Computer Science major at UCLA that was beaten and hospitalized in 1989. They never caught the culprits.

DA McCoy: well, it's past the Statute of Limitations anyway.

ADA Essval: I just hope Komodo can rest in peace now.

{Fade to Black}


A Geek Wolf Production

[Geekhis Khan]

Warning: the following episode of Law & Order: Race Affairs Unit contains controversial subject matter that some viewers may find objectionable. Viewer discretion is advised.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to current events or real beings, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

In the criminal justice system, offenses involving members of the Race contain inherent diplomatic concerns. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these special cases are members of an elite squad known as the Race Affairs Unit. These are their stories.

{Dun-Dun}


Law & Order: Race Affairs Unit


Episode 31: Wild Child

Part I: the Body



Central Park South

6 am. Summer. People are out jogging, power-walking, or walking dogs. Two people are walking their dogs, talking. One is an older woman walking a shitzu, the other a middle-aged man walking a boxer.

Woman: Me, I always take Yihe Tuan here to Ci Xi's before a show. Frankly any place else will make a mess of him.

Man: Well, I take Sir Edward to Waldersee myself. They specialize in large breeds like... (Sir Edward starts to bark and jerk at the leash) ...whoa! Down, boy! Down!

Sir Edward pulls the man towards some bushes and chases after a small filthy stray mutt. The mutt has something in its mouth. The mutt drops what it's carrying and runs off.

Woman: Oh, dear, that stray killed someone's Beffel.

Man (looking shocked): That's not a Beffel.

Zoom in to show the limp legs and tail stump of a Race hatchling.

{Cut Scene}


Sirens and police radio chatter. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak duck under the police tape past a uniformed officer. They approach a CSI agent crouching over the dead hatchling.

Det. T'Surlak: Hatchling. Damnation. What happened?

CSI: Hatchling female, based on the still-present egg tooth and residual dried egg fluid on the body she's only a few days old. Two dog-walkers came across her. A stray mutt had her in its jaws. Initial analysis show the bite marks to be perimortem, which makes it appear that the stray either killed her or picked her up almost immediately after death by causes unknown.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Do we have the dog? The last thing we need is a mutt with a taste for Race.

CSI: Animal Control is searching the park.

Det. T'Surlak: How about the egg?

CSI: Still looking, but since Race hatchlings generally don't stray too far from their place of hatching I'd bet it'll be found in the park somewhere.

Det. T'Surlak: Check the sand boxes at the nearest playground. Females prefer to lay in sand.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I'd check in the bushes. Knowing New York kids anything you layed in a sandbox would end up splattered on someone's front door.

Det. T'Surlak (looks half horrified, half irritated at the suggestion): Barbarians. Still, might have been better for the little Female not to hatch at all.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Any word on the mother?

CSI: This young she might not have a parent. The Race tends to lay and semi-abandon. Whomever finds the child tends to adopt it.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Unfortunately for this little girl it looks like the neighborhood mutt found her first.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part II: Jurisdiction


The 19th Precinct. Forensics autopsy lab. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are talking with Forensic doctor Ashia Machugo. The hatchling is splayed out on a table. There is a pile of shell fragments next to it.

Dr. Machugo: And so you see here, detectives, the original bite marks. They correspond to the teeth patterns of the dog Animal Control captured in the park not far from there.

Det. Fitzsimmons: The same one the witnesses identified, yes?

Dr. Machugo: Yes, of course. And also it is obvious by the blood's liquidity about the wound and the local tissue reactions that the dog definitely killed the hatchling. The physical trauma of the bite severed the Vvvrrglai artery, causing almost instant fatal loss of blood.

Det. T'Surlak: And the shards? *interrogative cough*

Dr. Machugo: Definitely the egg this girl hatched from; confirmed by TNA match. Oxidization of the dried egg fluid places hatching at three days ago. It was found in sandy soil in the underbrush.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I guess we were both right. Any word on who the mutt belonged to?

Det. T'Surlak: Or who laid the egg? *interrogative cough*

Dr. Machugo: I'm a doctor or forensics, not the research cop. I tell you what killed them and how, you figure out the who and the why.

{Dun-Dun}


Back at the office. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak are going through the paperwork.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Nothing here...if anyone ever owned the dog they're a mystery and likely to remain so.

Det. T'Surlak: Animal Control thinks it's a feral considering its fear of them.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Well, I'd run from a bunch of guys with neck loops trying to cage me too.

Det. T'Surlak: That's not what work around the office says.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I told you not to listen to O'Mally. Ok, still no word on mommy dearest. We're still building up a list of gravid females in the area. So far we have 27.

Det. T'Surlak: And we think she's a local? *interrogative cough*

Det. Fitzsimmons: That's the running assumption. Any Lizard too lazy to catch the mid-town to the Hatching Center probably isn't going to head across town to find a shady spot in CP South.

Det. T'Surlak: Could be a tourist.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Sure, but why travel to the Big Azwaca when you're that gravid? Surely a post-lay trip would be better.

Det. T'Surlak: Unrefundable tickets? *interrogative cough*

They are interrupted by a heated argument. Captain Van Buren is walking next to Captain Cragen from SVU. They are the ones arguing. Dets. Stabler and Benson are behind them.

Cap. Van Buren: I don't care what the age of the victim is, this is not an SVU matter!

Cap. Cragen: Like hell, Anita. A minor is a minor. We have jurisdiction. Besides, the DA has something else he needs your boys to work on.

Cap. Van Buren: What, fishing through old high school yearbooks looking for "See you next summer, keep hating Lizards, your friend Eugene?" Bullshi...

Det. Fitzsimmons (interrupting): Might I ask exactly what in the hell it going on?

Cap. Cragen (handing him a memo from DA McCoy): You're off the Wild Child case. Jack needs you to dig up a little more on Dr. Death.

Det. T'Surlak: What? Bugger the Emperor! *emphatic cough* Murder weapon, motive, and opportunity aren't enough any more? *emphatic cough*

Det. Stabler: Apparently not, Detective. I'll need your files on the case.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Like hell! We've been pouring over these for days now!

Det. Benson (looking empathetic): Sorry, Gerry, but DA McCoy was very clear about this.

Cap. Van Buren: I guess I'll just have to have a word with Mr. McCoy then.

Cap. Cragen: Yea, I guess so. (face softens) Look, Anita, I know you're angry and with reason. No one wants a case poached out from under them, but that's Jack's decision and until I hear otherwise we're handing this over to Stabler and Benson.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part III: Big Brother Bites Back, on Beffel


East 52nd. Apartment of Executive Assistant Zazztal. Dets. Benson and Stabler are sitting (well, near squatting) on a Race-sized couch across from Zazztal.

Det. Benson: So, you last became gravid when?

Zazztal: Um...

Det. Benson: Don't worry about the circumstances. We're not Ginger Squad. We're just trying to track down something for a case.

Zazztal: Well...it was last winter, well outside of the normal Rage period. I...I indulged in a little Ginger at a party. Things...happened.

Det. Benson: We understand.

Det. Stabler: And the egg? What happened to it?

Zazztal: I laid at the uptown Hatching Center. I can get you the drop-off number if you want.

Det. Benson: That would be very much appreciated, Executive Assistant.

Det. Stabler: Any word on the hatchling?

Zazztal: Oh, I'm sure it hatched by now, but I'm a busy female and don't have time for a hatchling. I decided at the time to leave it at the center to be turned over for adoption.

Det. Stabler (getting a little sharp of tone): And don't you worry what happens to the child? I mean, don't you worry about who might adopt it?

Zazztal: Why? It's an egg. Someone will pick it up.

{Cut Scene}


Stabler and Benson are walking to the car. Stabler looks very angered.

Det. Benson: Elliot, really. You need to calm down. The Race isn't like Humans when it comes to offspring.

Det. Stabler: Yea. Apparently child abandonment is perfectly acceptable. "Someone will pick it up," Mother Mary.

Det. Benson: That's how they work. There's no such thing as a family unit like we have.

Det. Stabler: Maybe if there was then the little Wild Child wouldn't have become dog chow.

An awkward, angry silence ensues as they get back in the car. They drive for a moment.

Det. Benson (changing the subject): Ok, Zazztal was number 27 on the list. That's all the known gravids in Midtown and the Upper East. Should we try the Upper West names now or look for undocumented Females?

Det. Stabler: Damn it, they almost all abandoned them! All but two! Only two kept their hatchling! The rest left them in the Hatchling House.

Det. Benson: Elliot...

Det. Stabler: Do they have any idea how many Hatchlings they raise there every year that never find parents...or how many of them that reach adulthood end up in gangs?

Det. Benson: Elliot, we've been over this. This was an off-season hatching, which means the mother...well, I should say layer, the Race doesn't have mothers...but it means that ginger was involved. A lot of Females are embarrassed to have a hatchling that was born out of season. For that very reason.

Det. Stabler: Well, they should consider the consequences of their actions! Damned thoughtless L...lazy mothers!

Det. Benson gives Stabler a quizzical look.

Det. Stabler: What? *Emphatic Cough*

{Cut Scene}


W. 63rd near West End ave. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are walking along with to-go cups. An early fall chill has T'Surlak wearing a coat. Fitzsimmons is noticeably in shirt-sleeves and showing no signs of a chill.

Det. T'Surlak: Emperor's Cloaca, the cold weather comes earlier every year! *Emphatic Cough*

Det. Fitzsimmons: Drink your coffee. It's hot. You'll feel better.

Det. T'Surlak: I hate coffee. Even properly salted. Besides, caffeine makes me far too hopped up. Give me a good Qwerg any day.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Frankly, Qwerg does nothing for me or any Big Ugly I can think of. And you're right; one small cup of Joe seems like it hits you the way four larges would hit me...but then again I've been mainlining the stuff since I was a beat cop.

Det. T'Surlak: Not to mention the addiction. Nothing worse than a Lizard all hissed off 'cause he hasn't had his morning cup! It's like you Big Uglies and your cigarettes. By the way, what are we out here for again?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Vice raided a ginger shop here and want us to look it over. Clean-up work, Christ.

Det. T'Surlak: Better than working the Komodo case. Whether Dr. Death did his deed premeditated or not I'm just happy to see it off the headlines. Give me a simple crime scene sweep any day.

Suddenly they hear screaming and cursing. There's a sense of anger and panic.

Det. T'Surlak: Great, now what? *Interrogative Cough*

They run up to a tenement flat. There's an older woman with a broom poking at a bush. There's high-pitched, angry hissing and panicky beeping coming from the bush. The neighbors are gathering.

Det. Fitzsimmons (flashing badge): Alright, folks, make a hole!

Woman: Get off of her, get off of her, you beast!

Det. T'Surlak: What's going on, ma'am?

Woman (panicky): That little monster has Meeps! My Beffel!

Det. Fitzsimmons (grabbing phone): Dispatch? Send an animal control unit to 63rd and Wes...hell, it's making a break for it!

Det. T'Surlak: It's a hatchling! Feral!

The small hatcling, maybe a few months old, has a beeping, kicking Beffel in its mouth. Det. T'Surlak, hissing, darts at the hatchling. It drops the Beffel and runs. T'Surlak runs after it, leaping, and knocks over some garbage cans chasing it.

Det. T'Surlak: Come here, you addled little bastard!

He leaps, grabbing the back leg of the Hatchling. It turns and bites his arm.

Det. T'Surlak (hissing angrily): You little crap!

He grabs the hatchling by the back of the neck and gently bites its nose to get it to release its own bite. There's a little bit of blood on T'Surlak's arm. T'Surlak holds the kicking, hissing, filthy hatchling aloft.

Det. T'Surlak: Here's the little bastard. How's the Beffel?

Woman: Oh my God, Meeps! She's dying!

Det. Fitzsimmons: She's fine, ma'am. More scared than hurt. Surry, great catch. Angry little gal, ain't she?

Det. T'Surlak: It's a Male, actually. And you know what? The brow ridge scales have a very familiar look. Bet ya' Qwerg to a coffee that he's the Wild Child's big bro.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part IV: Teamwork


The precinct. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak are next to a Race member wearing Psychologist body paint. Her name is Purriq. The captured male hatchling can be seen in a child's quarantine room through a two-way mirror. He's frantically exploring, tearing up the pillows, chewing the toys, and looking for escape routes.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Precocious little scamp, ain't he?

Det. T'Surlak (lifting up bandaged arm): Yea, tell me about it. *Emphatic Cough*

Dr. Purriq: He's definitely a feral. One half-year hatched. The TNA profile is a definite match with the mother of the Central Park Female. Different fathers. No surprise there.

Det. T'Surlak: So, little sister must've been conceived pretty much right after the last egg was laid.

Dr. Purriq: Certainly.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Mommy certainly gets around, doesn't she?

Both T'Surlak and Purriq send irritated eye turrets towards him.

Dr. Purriq: It's a textbook case of a ginger-addicted female.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Except most manage to find their way to the hatching center. Mommy Dearest here just couldn't be bothered.

Dets. Stabler and Benson walk up. Stabler looks annoyed.

Det. Stabler: Alright, gentle-Males, we'll take it from here.

Det. Fitzsimmons (showing fake shock): Why detective, what could you mean?

Det. Stabler: The Wild Child is our case.

Det. T'Surlak: No, the Central Park Wild Child is your case. The West End Wild Boy is ours.

Det. Stabler (now angry and sending a very suspicious gaze at T'Surlak): Look, McCoy was very clear...the case...don't you guys need to be digging up dirt on the Komodo case?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Been there, done that. The Good Doctor's past life as a Lizard-Hater should give Jack some leverage. If he needs more he'll find us. Until then...well, we'll be with the West Side Story here.

Det. Stabler: We'll see, gentlemen.

{Dun-Dun}


Waiting area by Jack McCoy's office. All four detectives are sitting at benches.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I feel like I'm waiting outside Mother Superior's office.

Det. Stabler: No kidding. I can feel the angry looming weight of the ruler over my knuckles.

Det. Benson: Well, whatever happens I hope they can do something with Westie. When they've been feral that long they're hard to assimilate into Race society, none the less finding a place in New York.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Westie? You named him?

Det. Benson: Just a mnemonic...Westie and Parkie, easier than West End Wild Boy, or whatever.

Det. T'Surlak: Oy vey ist mir *Emphatic Cough*

The door opens. It's Capt. Van Buren.

Capt. Van Buren: Ma'am, gentle-males. We're ready to see you.

They walk in. Capt. Cragen has a wry smirk on his face. DA McCoy has an "I'm too old for this crap" look on his face.

DA McCoy: Well, detectives...don't bother sitting down, this will only take a second. The short: you're all on the case. Consider it an interdepartmental cooperation. Officially Stabler and Benson are on the Central Park hatchling and T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are on the West End hatchling, but you're under direction to share any and all pertinent information on each other's cases, especially on matters relating to both such as any suspects or evidence. Since the Female is the same, it's likely both departments will share in any case that arises from the investigation.

Capt. Cragen: Congrats, boys and girl, it's a double-date.

{Slight Time Skip}


All four detectives are walking out of the office. Stabler closes the door behind him. They walk down the hall.

Det. T'Surlak (patting Stabler on the back; Stabler jerks an almost imperceptible little bit away from him): Well, partners, looks like we have a case.

Det. Stabler: Great. *Emphatic Cough*

Det. Fitzsimmons: Well, I guess it's a good time to mention we have a TNA match on Parkie's daddy.

Det. Benson: That's great! We have news of our own. An El Lagarto member named Leatherback is in custody for, of all things, pimping for Human Females. He told us about a ginger-prostitution ring on West 74th.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Leatherback? Who comes up with a crazy street name like Leatherback?

Det. T'Surlak: Maybe he's taunting the Mongooses.

Det. Stabler (scowling and stomping ahead): Either way, it's time to have a word with that painted pimp.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part V: Pimpin' Ain't Easy


Paradise Towers Housing Project. W. 74th. A nervous looking Race member in "American" red-white-blue body paint, eye turrets darting left and right, walks up to a Race member in body paint like Abraham Lincoln. He wears a top hat and a fake chin-beard to complete the effect.

John (in Race): <Um...you> Honest Abe?

Honest Abe: Speak American, Lizard! *Emphatic Cough* And who wants to know? *Interrogative Cough*

John: Um...a friend told me you could hook me up with...

Honest Abe: Lizard, I don't sell ginger! *Emphatic Cough*

John: Umm...actually, I...

Honest Abe: Spit it out, Lizard! *Emphatic Cough*

John: It's all the ginger-heat Females...I, um, can't wait for the season. It's gettin' under my scales, drivin' me addled. My friend says Honest Abe can hook a Lizard up.

Honest Abe (looking around): Head up to the fourth floor, room 469. Knock three times, dig? *Interrogative Cough*

John: Um, really? *Interrogative Cough*

Honest Abe: I can not tell a lie.

{Cut Scene}


"John" knocks three times at room 469. The door is answered by a Race member in blue 70s suit and tie body paint.

Tricky Dick: Aroo! Welcome, friend! What's your American Dream? *Interrogative Cough*

John: Um...Honest Abe sent me up here...

Tricky Dick: Fillmore! Silent Cal! We got a friend! Take our friend to see the girls.

John steps inside. Immediately his head-crest scales are starting to twitch from the Female pheromones. There're two big Race members standing bodyguard, one in an 1800s suit body paint, the other in a 1920s suit body paint. At the far end is a smaller one with 1960s suit body paint and a bigger one with 1990s suit body paint.

John: So, um, how does this work? *Interrogative Cough*

Boston Jack: It's, ahh, quite simple. You give us one hundred bucks, and you get to go back to a room.

John (looking confused): And...then what? *Interrogative Cough*

Tricky Dick: What do you think, pal? It's you and a Female on ginger.

Slick Willie (with large unlit cigar): Ya' need me to draw ya' a map, son?

John: So, like, what do the Big Uglies call them, whores? *Interrogative Cough*

Tricky Dick: Aroo, we got a genius here! *Emphatic Cough*

Slick Willie: Only the best whores, brother! *Emphatic Cough*

John: All I needed to here. (ducks to the floor by the side)

The door is busted inwards. In rushes a team of NYPD in SWAT gear.

SWAT 1: Police! Freeze! You're under arrest!

Tricky Dick (being thrown to the floor and cuffed): I am not a crook! *Emphatic Cough*

{Cut Scene}


Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are walking past the tape and police cordon. One uniformed officer is leading Honest Abe to a cruiser.

Officer: For the record, Genius, "I can not tell a lie" was Washington.

Det. Fitzsimmons: They're called the "Sex Presidents" if you can believe it.

Det. T'Surlak: Well, they need to get their facts straight. President Nixon?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Perish the thought. I'm sure Senator Clinton will be amused as well. Shall we head up?

Det. T'Surlak: Are the Females out of there? Last thing I need is to start mounting the victims.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Might complicate the paperwork some, yea. But yes, the Females have been escorted out. There were six. Ginger-addicted. Forced to turn tricks for ginger.

Det. T'Aurlak: Sick.

Det. Fitzsimmons: No kidding. The sad part is we've been doing this to our own females for centuries.

{Cut Scene}


In room 469. T'Surlak is twitchy, his head scales visibly coming up.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Detective, you're getting a scalie.

Det. T'Surlak: Its all the pheromones. (yells) Emperor's Cloaca, could someone open a damned window?

CSI Agent: As soon as we've finished picking up scales for evidence.

Det. T'Surlak curses.

Uniformed Officer: Detectives! In here!

{Dramatic Music}

They walk into a back room to a closet. The closet is full of old mouldering trash. In the far corner is a pile of shattered Race eggs.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VI: Broken Eggs


The Precinct, SVU office. Stabler and Benson are sitting at a desk going through paperwork.

Det. Stabler: Okay, looks like five counts of running a brothel and human slavery, ginger possession and various health code violations. I'm also pushing for manslaughter charges on those broken eggs, the scaly bastards. Either way, our "presidents" are looking at serious time at Riker's.

Det. Benson: Pushing the manslaughter charges will be difficult without proof of the eggs' viability and fertility at time of their disposal. They're all over a year old as it is and TNA is badly cross-contaminated. I'll bet the DA's office will just dangle the possibility as leverage for a plea.

Det. Stabler: That's just not right. They should pay for what they did to those defenseless eggs.

Det. Benson: It's again going to be difficult to go there. We can't really prove the "presidents" were in any way involved. You'd have to prove they forced it upon the ginger-slaves or else you'd have to charge the Females as well. As of the moment there's no way the DA is going after them, poor things. They're getting ginger rehabilitation and counseling...hopefully they'll get their lives together.

Det. Stabler: Well, whichever of them laid those eggs in the streets and shrubs of Manhattan will get what's coming to her. Jesus, a whole species and society built on child abandonment.

Det. Benson (looking uncomfortable): Elliot...

Det. Stabler: What? Sorry. Just...forget it.

{Dun-Dun}


Cut to inside pediatric quarantine. Det. T'Surlak is talking in Race with Dr. Purriq. Westie is dodging and snapping at two large human orderlies.

Dr. Purriq: <He's doing slightly better. He's eating, which is good, but he's as you can see still very aggressive.>

Det. T'Surlak: <Can't say I blame him.>

Dr. Purriq: <We'll get another blood sample here to check his condition. Quarantine will last another few days and then we're handing him to> Child Services Race Division <to try and acclimate him to society.>

Det. T'Surlak: <I wish him the best. Then what? *Interrogative Cough*>

Dr. Purriq: <Hatchery Foster Center.>

Det. T'Surlak (English): *hiss* Poor bastard.

Dr. Purriq: <You don't think they know how to do their job? *Interrogative Cough*>

Det. T'Surlak: <Hell no. My, um,> brother <and I went through that place after my mother's third> O.D. It's a crap-hole *Emphatic Cough* <Better they'd broken his egg with the rest.>

Dr. Purriq (looking shocked): <Don't tell me you advocate egg-breaking! *Emphatic Cough*>

Det. T'Surlak (English): Better than having to go through that kind of hell.

Dr. Purriq: <Egg-Breaking is illegal in the Empire for a reason!>

Det. T'Surlak: <Yes, because they have enough> Lizards <to go around. Hatchlings don't go unclaimed or abandoned all the time like here.>

Dr. Purriq: <But certainly you can't honestly believe...>

Det. T'Surlak (English): Hey, if you can't catch 'em, don't hatch 'em!

Dr. Purriq looks to be on the verge of an angry rebuttal when the sound of a table being knocked over interrupts them. The orderlies are trying to chase Westie out from under the badly-torn bed.

Orderly 1: Come on you little...ouch! The bastard bit me!

Orderly 2: I'm getting the tranq. ready...

Det. T'Surlak: Oh, for the love of god. *Emphatic Cough* Here...

Det. T'Surlak walks up and pushes past the orderlies. He makes a hiss-bark like noise and stares double-turret at Westie under the cot. Then, in a flash, darts in a hand and grabs Westie by the neck-scruff. Westie is kicking and snapping and hissing. T'Surlak holds Westie up to his face, hiss-barks again and rests his chin on Westie''s snout in a dominant manner, both eye-turrets locked. Westie's hiss draws down slowly as he's transfixed. Calmed, T'Surlak carries Westie over to the counter and holds him transfixed while Dr. Purriq takes the blood. He then releases Westie, who runs to a cot-leg and then looks back at T'Surlak with curiosity.

Dr. Purriq: <Impressive, Detective. You have a manner with hatchlings>

Det. T'Surlak: <When both your parents are> ginger-heads <you have to become the parent sometimes. I practically raised my> brother.

Dr. Purriq: <Goodbye, Detective.>

Det. T'Surlak: <Goodbye, Healer.>

Det. T'Surlak leaves the room, turning a turret back briefly when Westie meeps at him. He closes the door and walks out.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VII: Crisis of Faith


The Precinct. Conference room. Dets. Stabler and Benson, T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are sitting around a conference table with Capts. Van Buren and Cragen and ADAs Essval and Rothschild.

ADA Essval: After we presented the mountain of evidence against them the defendants pretty much folded. Their lawyer convinced them to accept the plea and they're each facing up to 10 years in State.

Det. Stabler: And what of the eggs?

ADA Essval: We never had to bring them up, which is ok because we really have nothing on them. The TNA is polluted and the latest is two years old.

Det. Fitzsimmons: It seems they wised up and put their Spice Girls on fertility suppressants. No muss, no fuss, no cleanup.

Det. Stabler (sending Fitzsimmons an angry look): So, we just do nothing? How many hatchlings did they kill? How many did they throw in the trash just to keep profits going?

ADA Rothschild: It's not that simple...the proof of fertility is impossible to determine in such a polluted sample...

Det. Stabler (abruptly standing up): 'Sample'? What, are these kids just a damned lab experiment to you people?

Capt. Cragen: Detective! Sit down and calm the hell down!

Det. Stabler: Wh...what? You too, Captain? Am I the only one who cares that twenty-some hatchlings were killed?

Capt. Cragen: No! No for the love of god, but there's certain legal principles we have to...

Det. Stabler (interrupting): 'Legal principles'? For the love of God indeed! These damned Lizards just throw their babies in the trash...

Det. T'Surlak (cross-interrupting): What, so we hatch these poor kids and file them off to the damned home? Let them run the streets like wild beffels? Where's the responsibility in that? Besides, an egg's not a hatchling. I should know, I'm the Lizard. And might I ask which 'damned Lizards' you meant? The pimps? All if us? Your truly? *Ironic Interrogative Cough*

Capt. Cragen (irate): Alright, all of you, shut up! What, is this a goddamned honky tonk? Stabler, you're out of line!

Capt. Van Buren: You too, T'Surlak.

Capt. Cragen: Look, you think this whole polluted mess doesn't tick me off too? But like T'Surlak said, by law an egg is an egg.

Det. Benson: Wait, don't we prosecute thieves who break a Race egg during a robbery with manslaughter?

ADA Essval: Well, a lot depends on the crime and the circumstances...

Det. Stabler: So we treat it as alive when it suits us, how damned convenient.

Capt. Cragen: Detective, I'm warning you! In fact, if there's no objections from the District Attorney's office or Captain Van Buren I say we end this meeting now.

Capt. Van Buren: I agree on all counts. Detective T'Surlak, I'll be seeing you in my office.

Capt. Cragen: And I you, Stabler!

ADA Rothschild: Um, meeting adjourned then?

{Dun-Dun}


Briscoll's Tavern. W. 44th. Night. Det. Fitzsimmons is sitting at the bar with a whiskey. Det. Stabler walks in and joins him.

Det. Stabler: Hey...

Det. Fitzsimmons: Hey Elliot, what's up?

Det. Stabler: The case, what else?

Det. Fitzsimmons: (snorts) What else? It's a doozy. (takes a sip of whiskey). So, I'm surprised to see you sitting down. Don't tell me the Captain left you ass to sit on? T'Surlak's tail got eaten like corn-on-the-cob.

Det. Stabler: Yea, I nearly got suspended. Mother Mary...it's this case. It's the eggs. How do you...as a Catholic, I mean...how do you just...walk away?

Det. Fitzsimmons: You mean besides drink myself addled in filthy dives?

Det. Stabler: I'm serious.

Det. Fitzsimmons: So am I. Look, I gotta admit I don't share your faith. I went to Latin school, took my share of rulers, I go to Mass on Christmas and Easter...pretty much to keep mom off my back. But this job doesn't exactly build up a man's faith in a just and loving universal order.

{Silent Pause}

Det. Stabler: I tried talking to my priest. He commended my faith, repeated the Pope's admonition against egg-breaking, and told me to pray the rosary and seek my own conscience.

Det. Fitzsimmons: (snort) Sounds like a priest.

{Silent Pause}

Det. Fitzsimmons: So, the stuff about Lizards. Look, T'Surlak and I drop the "L" bomb between us, but it sounded like you meant it, I mean really meant 'Lizards'...the way my dad used to.

Det. Stabler: (sighs) I...I'm sorry. It's not like me, it really isn't. I'm not a bigot. I...

Det. Fitzsimmons: Elliot, don't piss up my leg and tell me it's raining. You don't like Lizards. Admit that, to yourself more than anyone.

Det. Stabler (choking up): I can't describe it. It's the way they act, the way they look. It's like they're living embodiments of the Serpent. It's like they were sent by the adversary as part of the final trump. Damn it, Fitz, the way they mindlessly screw and run off. The way they abandon their children to whoever decides to pick them up. It's just...

Det. Fitzsimmons: Inhuman?

Det. Stabler: Ouch, Fitz. Look, I know it's bullshit, but I just can't reconcile the faith with the Race. The Church has been no help either. With 85% of the world's Catholics living under the Race even the current Pope won't dare condemn their idolatry or their enslavement of Christendom...or come out on the other side to describe the Race's place in the Cosmic Order. No Pope has...ever! Just some brief propagandistic stuff during the invasion sixty damned years ago. I...I'd just like some word, some place where they fit. Then there's the egg thing, the one area the Church spoke out against. It just...opened up bad old wounds at the wrong time. How...how do I just let it go? Adapt or even learn to live with the gap?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Look, Elliot, I ain't no altar boy myself. I used to hate blacks and anyone from an Orange Ulster background. Dear Ol' Dad made sure all of us knew the 'darkies' were just minutes from rebellion to betray us to the Lizards 'just like in Florida'. Hell...took me damned near all my life to purge that acid, and even now I find I have to sit back for a second and re-evaluate my motivations with certain suspects. (pauses to finish drink, raises finger to bartender for another) Working for Anita has helped. She's sharp as a tack and the hardest, most honest person I've met...all by herself she's sunk most of the crap my dad had the young me convinced applied to all of her race.

Det. Stabler (pause, taking it all in): That helps. Strangely enough it helps. Apologize to your partner for me.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Apologize to him yourself. He's a damned good detective, and if you work with him for a while maybe that'll help more. Hell if I know.

Det. Stabler: Hell if I know. I'll try. But damn it, I wanted those damned pimps...I wanted them to face up to their killings.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Ten years is ten years. Even if you could prove any manslaughter charges, which you won't, the sentence wouldn't be appreciably longer.

Det. Stabler: Damn it, it's the principle of the matter!

Det. Fitzsimmons: Yea. (finishes next drink in a gulp, drops a $20 bill on the bar)

Det. Stabler: Well, with luck we can at least find out which of the ginger slaves was Westie's mom. If she gets her act together at least he could have a mother...or what passes for a mother among the Race.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Well, I've got more wonderfully great news for you: none of them are the mother. They're the only whores in the stable according to all the pimps and girls when interviewed separately. They've been on fertility suppressors for two years. And none of the TNA soup recovered from the eggs is a match. Mommy Dearest is still out there.

They get up, Fitzsimmons puts on his hat, and they walk out the door.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VIII: Gray Area


The Precinct. ADAs Essval and Rothschild watch through a one-way glass as Det. T'Surlak interviews another Race member; a sketch artist in on hand.

ADA Essval: So that's Parkie's "Daddy"? *interrogative cough*

ADA Rothschild: In the scales. T'Surlak's trying to get sketches of the potential mothers so they can track her down. Then the fun part: how do we prosecute this one?

ADA Essval: Can we prosecute this? *interrogative cough* On Home if a Female lays and egg and it hatches feral there's really nothing much thought of it.

ADA Rothschild: Yea, but on Home your "lay and forget" eggs are more likely to hatch with the warm sands. The only reason Parkie hatched was the warm summer. Westie we have no idea. Heat grate is the going hypothesis. They've since found two other eggs, both lifeless; one in the park apparently froze over winter, the other in an alley was rat-eaten.

ADA Essval (looks horrified for a second): Jack wants to push for Child Abandonment, but I don't see how that applies. The only rulings of this sort in the Empire's database are ones covering post-adoption and cases involving ovicide.

ADA Rothschild: And on the US side we have only one known case of abandoned eggs in New Mexico. The Female was never found and a "Wild Boy of the Desert" became more of a legend turned tourist attraction once he was tamed and adopted. I hear he later ended up in jail for assault.

ADA Essval: What about ovicide? Any US cases there? *interrogative cough*

ADA Rothschild: Nothing of this sort at all. There was Texas v. Edvars and Hernandez. Two Race haters that broke into a Race member's house, smashed her near-term egg, tore up the house and assaulted her. The State executed both for capital murder, but that was considered an egregious act of deadly violence committed in the act of a felony and was governed under existing statutes for the killing of a fetus during assault on a pregnant woman.

ADA Essval (shocked): So there's not a single case or statute on ovicide in this not-empire? *interrogative cough*

ADA Rothschild: None. Like our presidential pimps there's always been another more straight-forward crime. Then there's questions on Rowe v. Wade and whether a Female is legally protected when breaking her own eggs or having them broken at her behest.

ADA Essval: Is there at least a time limit?!

ADA Rothschild: Well, that one's never come up...well, save from Texas v. Edvars/Hernadez but that was a special case. Any voluntary egg breaking incidents that have turned up were all done in the immediate post-lay period. Honestly, I wouldn't know if a near-term egg would be protected or not!

ADA Essval (after a period of silence): I can't believe your species.

ADA Rothschild (looking grim): You know, there are plenty of us who support a right to choose.

ADA Essval (looking with both eye turrets): What? You?

ADA Rothschild: Well, yes. I don't see as how it's the State's business what I do with my eggs, so why should it say what you do with yours?

ADA Essval: I can't believe you. It's...against nature to kill your own offspring! *emphatic cough*

ADA Rothschild (crossing arms): Hon, don't tell me ginger-induced babies are a natural part of the Race life cycle.

ADA Essval: Well, they happen, and we have to deal with the consequences! *emphatic cough*

ADA Rothschild: So you'd tell some ginger-raped Female that she'd have to carry an unwanted egg to term and hatch it? *interrogative cough*

ADA Essval: Yes! *emphatic cough*

{Uncomfortable silence}

ADA Rothschild: (sighs) Look, whatever the detectives find, we both need to keep in mind we're on uncharted waters here. Anything we decide may set precedent. That means we both need to keep ourselves calm and objective and within the framework of law.

ADA Essval (after a moment): Yes, of course. Still, how do you just shut off the part of you that rages at the injustice of things and coldly do your job? *interrogative cough*

ADA Rothschild: I don't know, hon. I'll have to let you know if I ever find out.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part IX: The Mother


The Precinct Breakroom. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are talking while getting qwerg & coffee. The TV is on ANN. Though the sound is off the animated banners read "NY Wild Child".

Det. T'Surlak (noticing TV): Great.

Det. Fitzsimmons: And so it begins...only a matter of time, really.

Det. T'Surlak: I just hope it isn't Komodo all over again.

Det. Fitzsimmons: No, this one's political...it'll be far worse,

Det. T'Surlak curses in Race.

{Beat}

Det. T'Surlak: Well, since we're on the subject, what do you think? About the eggs? Just to clear out the Azwaca in the room.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Well, personally I'd just as soon not see any broken, but I figure it's not really for me to say. As long as it's done early. No late-breaks.

Det. T'Surlak: What about if the hatchling-to-be is incapable of surviving outside the egg? That's something you only rarely discover early in the hatching period.

Det. Fitzsimmons: You see, there you go, muddying up a perfectly good preconceived notion with gray areas...let's just say I'll take things on a case-by-case basis. *emphatic cough*

Det. T'Surlak: Fair enough. *emphatic cough*

Det. Stabler walks into the break room and goes for the coffee. He notices T'Surlak and his eyes skip back and forth for a second. Finally, coffee in hand, he approaches T'Surlak.

Det. Stabler: Hey, Detective. I...I guess I owe you an apology.

Det. T'Surlak: Why? What did you do? *interrogative cough*

Det. Stabler: My attitude these last few weeks, you know, about...

Det. T'Surlak (interrupting): ...the Cruisers-Killercraft game? Yea. I can't believe you're a Killers fan. It's all about the Land Cruisers, see. *emphatic cough*

Det. Stabler (smiling and chuckling to self, relieved at the pass from T'Surlak): Yea. What can I say, I grew up in a staunch Namath household. And despite the name, your Land Cruisers really lack an offensive line. *emphatic cough*

Det. T'Surlak (mouth open in humor): Says you!

Det. Fitzsimmons: Hey, don't look at me, I'm a baseball guy.

Stabler is about to make a comment when Capt. Van Buren walks in.

Capt. Van Buren: Heads up, gentlemen. We found the mother. She was found spiced to the nictaters on ginger in an alley. They're bringing her in.

Det. T'Surlak: Not in heat, I hope.

Capt. Van Buren: The pheromone counters read "no".

Det. Stabler (looking at TV, angry): Oh, come on! You're kidding me!

They turn to the TV. The screen now says "Wild Child Update: Mother Found?" Footage (from an aircraft) shows police cruiser heading down Park Ave. Fitzsimmons turns up the volume.

TV Anchor: ...young female was picked up off of 47th street and is currently in the squad car shown, according to the anonymous footage...

The scene changes to shaky phone-video footage of uniformed officers taking a haggard-looking Race member to a squad car.

Officer: Come along, mommy dearest.

TV Anchor: The "Wild Child" case and the ginger prostitution ring it inadvertently turned up has resparked the national debate over egg treatment...

Capt. Van Buren (turning volume back down): We'd better get to the loading dock to help out. The vultures will be swarming, I'm sure.

{Cut Scene}

Precinct loading bay. A line of hastily, assembled officers holds back a crowd of press and protesters as the squad car attempts to get through. There are chants and thrown bottles at the car.

Protester 1 (holding "Save the Eggs" sign): Murderer!

Trio of Protesters (chanting in Unison): Egg rights now! Egg rights now!

Protester 2: Free the political prisoner! End the enslavement of Females!

The police fight to keep the two opposing sides apart while press cameras swarm. Dets. Stabler and T'Surlak rush up to the squad car as it slides past the cordon. Stabler holds up his trenchcoat to shelter the officer and Female.

Protester 1: Killer! (throws a small rock that hits T'Surlak, apparently by accident)

Det. T'Surlak: *hiss* Hey! *emphatic cough*

The protester flees through the crowd, the rest move in to impede the uniform officer that attempts to catch him.

Det. Stabler: Everyone! Settle down this instant!

Det. T'Surlak: Yes! *emphatic cough* Can't you tell this Female is gravid?

Dets. Benson and Fitzsimmons join in assisting their passage. They escort her into the doors. The noise quiets as they shut, but is still audible.

Det. T'Surlak: *hiss* Another day at the office.

Mother (somewhat bewildered): H...how did you know I was gravid?

Det. T'Surlak: Ma'am, you're obviously spiced to Sunday. If you weren't gravid you'd be in heat and I'd be unable to perform my duties as an officer.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Talk about mounting evidence.

All three other detectives, the uniformed officers, and Captain Van Buren stare daggers at Det. Fitzsimmons.

Det. Fitzsimmons: What? *emphatic cough*

[Geekhis Khan]

Part X: Mother Troubles


{Dun-Dun}

The Precinct, interrogation room. Dets. Benson and Stabler are in with Rassgur , the "mother" of the Wild Children. She wears badly applied USA body paint and is twitching with early ginger withdrawl. Benson is sitting on the table across from Rassgur. Stabler is pacing impatiently, and angrily.

Rassgur (with a very thick Race accent): What was I supposed do? *Interrogative Cough* I gravid was, I need egg lay, I was no in...shape?...to raise hatchlings, so I lay the eggs where I think hatch and go with my life. I figured someone find them.

Det. Stabler (angry, stopping and turning towards Rassgur): "Someone"? You figured "Someone" would take care of your hatchlings? In New York City? Do you have any idea the danger you put them in?

Rassgur: I...I not at the time, I...

Det. Benson: It's ok. Rassgur, we understand your predicament and we understand your stress, but why didn't you take advantage of the Hatching Centers? They exist for a reason and are free of charge...

Rassgur: But...but Grample say you have sign papers...reg-register...I no, I can't *Emphatic Cough*

Det. Stabler: What, does that take too long?! Better to let your hatchlings be devoured by feral dogs than fill out a few forms?!

Det. Benson (looking at partner): Elliot...please. (he sighs and trudges to the back; she turns back to Rassgur) Rassgur, why was the registration such a problem?

Rassgur (eye turrets darting nervously, scratching skin): I...I can't...you send...send me...

Det. Benson: Send you where? Where would we send you?

Det. Stabler: How about to jail for child abandonment?

Det. Benson: Elliot. Rassgur, where would we send you?

Rassgur: Back to Empire! I...never want go back to Empire! Too many law, too many clockwork. I stay not-empire USA! *Emphatic Cough*

Det. Benson: Why would we send you back to the Empire?

Rassgur starts looking away.

Det. Benson: Rassgur! *Emphatic Cough* Why would we send you back to the Empire?

{Dramatic Pause}

Rassgur (eye turrets drop to table): I...I not come USA right. I...hide in water cruiser, pay to Male, he bring me to USA.

Det. Benson: You're here undocumented.

Rassgur: Yes...yes I come un-undocmentid. I want freedom not-empire. I want life mine not Emperor's (eye turrets drop involuntarily). I register in hatchery they find out I get sent back Empire.

Det. Benson: They can't do that, Rassgur. The hatchery can't legally share that information unless specifically subpoenaed by the police. There's no reason why you'd go back to the Empire because of that.

Det. Stabler: Yes, you left your hatchlings to die out of selfish wants, and for nothing. Think about that from your cell! *Emphatic Cough*

Rassgur breaks down, whine-hissing, clawing at snout. Benson sends Stabler a dirty look. He refuses to rise to it. Benson moves a chair next to Rassgur and tries to comfort her.

Det. Benson: Rassgur, it's ok. It's ok. We'll get you the help you need.

Rassgur: No matter now! *Emphatic Cough* You know I here not dokminted, you send me back! I have go back to Empire! *Emphatic Cough* (continues breakdown)

{Dun-Dun}


Cragen's office. Stabler and Benson are there in the chairs at the desk. DA McCoy is standing by the door. Sergeant Munch is there as well and sits in the window sill.

Capt. Cragen: She's right, she's going back. Jack's contacting INS to have her deported.

Sgt. Munch: No muss, no fuss, no problem. Let the Empire worry about her.

Det. Stabler: So once again we're letting someone get away with manslaughter to make our lives easier?

DA McCoy: It's more complicated than that, Detective. We have to prove negligent abandonment; she just has to plead ignorance of the dangers while acting "on instinct". Proving abandonment in a way that doesn't interfere with existing statutes concerning Race reproduction will be more trouble than you think. In all, based on her reactions I'd say deportation's about the hardest thing we can give her. I almost feel bad about it.

Sgt. Munch: Another victory for The Man.

Capt. Cragen: Munch, can it. Alright, Jack, I'll get the paperwork rolling...

He's interrupted by a knock at the door. It's ADA Essval.

ADA Essval: Jack, two lawyers claiming to represent Rassgur are here and demand...

A Race Female in Legal body paint and a tanned woman with extremely long aburn hair and a pant suit unceremoniously walk past Essval.

Woman: The imprisonment of our client ends now!

Capt. Cragen: Now wait a damned minute, you don't just barge into...

Female (interrupting, handing Jack a card): I'm Aldriss and this is Seneca, and we're attorneys with the Free Females Defense League. And we demand to see our client.

Woman (Seneca): We will not sit idly by while the political imprisonment of this Female continues! She's fully within her rights to lay her eggs where she deems best and not face suppression by those who don't understand her physiological needs! *Emphatic Cough*

Det. Stabler (standing up, facing Seneca): Excuse me, councilor, but don't we have hatching centers for just that reason?

Seneca: What, those bureaucratic detainment facilities? Those places that the government uses to track Females and control the education of the Race? *Emphatic Cough*

Sgt. Munch (sliding glasses down his nose, looking at Seneca): Wow...I think I'm love.

Female (Aldiss, handing Jack a pink slip of paper): In short, detectives, Mr. District Attorney, we have a petition demanding our client's release.

DA McCoy: Well, ladies, you're in luck! We were just about to release your client from our custody entirely.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XI: Complications


Pediatrics, Race care facility. Det. T'Surlak is with Dr. Purriq and Rassgur. They are looking in on the Hatchlings. Westie is off by himself away from the other hatchlings tearing up a toy. It's clear the others are avoiding him.

Rassgur (in Race): <That horrible little monster is mine? *Emphatic Cough*>

Dr. Purriq: <The genetic ties are conclusive.> (English) Congrats, mom, it's a boy. *Emphatic Cough*

Rassgur (scratching self nervously): <By the Emperor (Rassgur's and Purriq's eye turrets drop, T'Surlak's do not) I can't believe I could produce such a...beast! *Emphatic Cough*>

Det. T'Surlak (eye turrets both towards Rassgur, with irritation): <That "monster" is the way he is because he grew up on the> goddamned street! *Emphatic Cough* <What, did you think he'd be adopted by a kindly old matriarch and live on a farm in Woodstock? *Interrogative Cough*>

Dr. Purriq (in English): Please, Detective, lay off of the girl. She's had a hard time.

Det. T'surlak (English): Yea, a hard time fighting ginger withdrawal.

Rassgur's eye turrets turn to T'Surlak when he says "ginger"

Dr. Purriq (to Rassgur): <As the lay-mother you get the first option for taking your son home, assuming you successfully complete> ginger rehab <and pass the psychological profiles.>

Rassgur: <Ugh! Please, no! *Emphatic Cough* Can't you send him to an adoptive center? *Interrogative Cough*>

Dr. Purriq: <If that is the lay-mother's request it shall be done.>

T'Surlak hisses quietly. Camera pans to Westie as he shakes a stuffed beffel in his teeth.

{Cut Scene}


DA's office. DA McCoy and ADA Essval are sitting at the conference table filling out paperwork.

DA McCoy: Ok, the form for transit is filled out and signed, we have a flight lined up from La Guardia to Mexico City. Did you finish the form for customs?

ADA Essval: Done, Superior Sir.

DA McCoy: What have I told you about this "superior sir" stuff? Anyway, Rassgur will be handed over to Race customs agents for debrief and whatever processing they require...

ADA Essval: I have the Race customs form right here.

DA McCoy: ...excellent. Only five more forms. At this rate we'll be done by dinner.

They are interrupted by ADA Rothschild as she flings open the door.

ADA Rothschild: Jack, we have a problem.

DA McCoy: Great, what now?

ADA Rothschild opens up a small laptop on the table. She types for a second and a video feed starts of an episode of the popular daytime talk show "Mona". On the screen, host Mona is talking with a Race member...Rassgur.

(On screen) Mona: And tell me what happened next...

(On screen) Rassgur: I...I had lay egg. I...can't not...it the ginger...no control over body pr...processes.

(On screen) Mona: and what did you do with the egg?

(On screen) Rassgur: I not know what do...I...I on ginger...I not know better...I... (dabs eye turrets with handkerchief)

ADA Essval: Why is she dabbing her eye? The Race doesn't cry.

ADA Rothschild: Shh! Watch! *Emphatic Cough*

(On screen) Rassgur: ...I lost and alone and I not know what do, so I...*hiss* I dump down waste chute! (shocked exclamations from audience)

DA McCoy: Oh damn it all! I'll kill her!

(On screen) Mona: That must have been very hard for you.

(On screen) Rassgur: Yes! So...so hard! I not want lose egg, but I...not know! I think... (ADA Rothschild turns off laptop)

ADA Rothschild: That aired today at 11. Every housewife in America probably saw it. The major news outlets around the world have picked up the story and are running with it.

ADA Essval: They'll kill her! *Emphatic Cough* When she gets to Empire territory they'll hold her for Ovicide and execute her!

DA McCoy: I'll kill her, I swear!

ADA Rothschild: What, and beat the Race to the punch?

DA McCoy: No, not that stupid ginger-head, I'm talking about Aldiss...or Ms. Seneca. Whichever of those two damned activist lawyers had her pull this stupid stunt! I'll have one or both of them disbarred for endangering their client!

ADA Essval: What I don't get is why...why admit to a capital crime just before being deported to the Empire? *Interrogative Cough*

ADA Rothschild: Why? Because now we can't just deport her. We send her back now, we send her to her death.

ADA Essval: Of course...she told the detectives that she never wanted to go back to the Empire.

DA McCoy: So she gambles it all on us not just saying "screw it" and shipping her off anyway!

{Beat}

DA McCoy: The sad thing is...she's right. The mayor will never allow us to deport her now. *sigh* That's it, ladies. Grab your books and order take-out. Looks like we have an all-nighter ahead of us. *Ironic Emphatic Cough*

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XII: Building a Case



{Dun-Dun}

DA's conference room. DA McCoy and ADAs Essval and Rothschild sit across from Rassgur and Attorneys Aldiss and Seneca.

Councilor Seneca: Honestly, Mr. District Attorney, we had nothing to do with Ms. Rassgur's decision to visit the talk show, that was entirely her decision as a free and independent Female.

DA McCoy: For your sake, Ms. Seneca...and yours too, Councilor Aldiss...I hope that nothing to refute that surfaces or so help me it will go to the BAR.

Councilor Aldiss: Could we please leave threats aside? *Interrogative Cough* We are still here to represent our client and her wishes.

DA McCoy: Very well, Councilor. Business. We're charging your client on two charges under section 260.00, Abandonment of a Child; that's a Class E Felony, 16 to 48 months and $1,000-$5,000 each, and we're of a strong mind to charge your client with negligent manslaughter in the case of the second hatchling!

Rassgur Hisses in worried shock, sends both eye turrets to Aldiss.

Councilor Seneca: First off, what our client does with her eggs is her business. That's protected under federal abortion statutes. Second, even if you could argue that the egg represents an actual living being, which you can not, the fact that it was laid in a suitable hatching location is defensible intent for the child's safety as defined under 260.03.

ADA Rothschild: Please, Councilor, 260.03 requires not just "safe" for the immediate moment, but in position to be properly cared for with others properly notified...like the "basket on the doorstep" cliche. Somehow I doubt a bush in Central Park or an alley in the West Side is going to qualify.

ADA Essval: We're willing to accept a plea to two charges of Abandonment at this point, sentences to run concurrently, minimum fines.

Councilor Seneca: Wow, so only a few years in political prison for following your natural instincts? God bless our democracy!

Rassgur: What? J...jail? *Interrogative Cough* No, no jail! *Emphatic Cough*

DA McCoy: Councilor, do you mind if we stick to the facts?

Councilor Aldiss: I believe what my associate is saying is that our client committed no actual crimes since an egg is not legally a hatchling, so the Abandonment charge is moot.

Councilor Seneca: Or in other words, 'no deal'. When you're willing to drop the charges and apologize to our client, we're ready to talk further. (Puts papers back in briefcase and starts to get up)

DA McCoy: Then frankly your client is going to trial! And I can't guarantee that the charges will end at section 260!

Councilor Aldiss: Mr. District Attorney, sir, such threats are beneath a Male of your stature.

{Cut Scene}


Still in the DA's office. The three prosecuting attorneys are sitting around the table. It is now noticeably evening.

ADA Essval: Frankly I think we have a solid case for Abandonment, and quite frankly a good case for Man 2. She obviously had no intention of seeing the eggs hatched, even if we consider the admissions of egg-trashing as a made up ploy, which frankly I do. Even now she shows nothing but aversion to her own offspring when he's alive and healthy, if more than a little wild.

DA McCoy: Then go for Man 2 as well. If nothing else it gives the jury something to reject, let them feel like they're expressing leniency while we still get her on Abandonment...and I want full sentencing. We were more than fair in our earlier offer.

ADA Rothschild (looking increasingly upset): Yes, sir, more than fair.

DA McCoy: What is it, Councilor? You've been moping all afternoon!

ADA Rothschild: Don't worry, sir, I'll do my job and follow your lead.

DA McCoy: Councilor...Rebekkah, You know I run an open office. If something's bothering you please speak up.

ADA Rothschild (sighs, takes off glasses): It's this whole case. As much of a rude and unprofessional bitch as that Ms. Seneca is, she's right: how is this different from a woman getting an abortion? Doesn't Rowe v. Wade cover this? More to the point, what kind of precedent does this set, prosecuting this confused drug addict for manslaughter? What activist judge is going to use this as a stepping stone to charge some girl for aborting her fetus?

ADA Essval: It's not the same. For one, there's easy-to-reach hatching centers...

ADA Rothschild (angry, interrupting): There's also adoption centers! *Emphatic Cough* Admittedly much harder to arrange than the open, few-to-no-questions hatching centers, but that's what they're going to say! We threaten to open a political Pandora's box here! And for what, one idiot misguided Ginger-head?

ADA Essval: And what if we don't prosecute? We give a free pass to any abandonment of eggs. "Lay your eggs in the street, who cares?" *Emphatic Cough*

DA McCoy (irate and red-faced): Councilors, please! (calming down, turning to ADA Rothschild) Look, Rebekkah, your objections are noted...and justified. But the mayor wants a case here, and we're giving him one. Frankly, I personally feel that Rowe Vs. Wade doesn't apply here...the second it leaves your body, be it a child or an egg, it's no longer your choice.

ADA Essval (looking confused): So, if you were to...abort an egg, that's alright? *Interrogative Cough*

ADA Rothschild: Oh boy, that's another can of worms entirely! What are we getting ourselves into?

DA McCoy: Well, that's how we're proceeding with this, come hell or high water, and that's final.

{Dramatic Pause}

All return to their papers, but an uncomfortable tension persists.

ADA Rothschild: (sighs) Okay, I have to ask: are you Pro-Choice or Pro-Life, Jack?

DA McCoy (looks at ADA Rothschild): I'm Pro-Law, Councilor.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XIII: the Trial


{Dun-Dun}

District Court

Day 14, NY vs. Rassgur. Judge William Holbert presiding. Jury consists of a surprising 9 Humans, 3 Race due to defense concerns over Race cultural bias against an "egg breaker". On the stand is a Race Female in Medical Doctor's body paint (Dr. Pernal).

ADA Essval: ...so the egg is fully encapsulated against the elements and fully capable of growth without substantial care as long as temperatures are sufficient and it remains undisturbed.

Dr. Pernal: Yes, Councilor. An egg of the Race is very self-sufficient for the most part, though dangers to the egg and any newly hatched Race members remain high without adult supervision and protection.

ADA Essval: So laying an egg in an area without supervision and without any forms of controlled temperature or protection will increase danger to the egg and emergent hatchling?

Dr. Pernal: Yes, that is true.

ADA Essval: That is all.

Judge Holbert: Defense, your witness.

Councilor Aldiss: Dr. Pernal, what is the physiological difference between an egg still carried by a gravid female and one laid?

Dr. Pernal: Well, they're in constant growth and development throughout the process...

Councilor Aldiss: What about in the days pre-lay versus the days immediately post-lay?

Dr. Pernal: Negligible. The biggest change is the shell hardening in the minutes immediately post-lay.

Councilor Aldiss: So the actual laying of the egg itself makes little physiological difference, it's all part of a larger growth process?

Dr. Pernal: Yes.

Councilor Aldiss (pauses, going through notes with one eye turret): In a newly-laid egg is the hatchling inside developed or capable of survival outside the egg?

Dr. Pernal: Not hardly! *Emphatic Cough* It's basically a few cells and a nutritional yoke in supportive fluid.

Councilor Aldiss: According to the writings of Dr. Louis Bernhart, OB/GYN with John Hopkins Medical Center - Defense A, Your Honor...

Judge Holbert: Noted.

Councilor Aldiss: ...the newly-laid egg is comparable to a Human fetus in the first trimester and in no way physiologically a hatchling capable of self-support. Do you concur, doctor? *Interrogative Cough*

Dr. Pernal: Yes, I have read her study...it was informative and I find no fault with it.

Councilor Aldiss: Thank you, doctor, that is all.

ADA Essval: Redirect, Your Honor?

Judge Holbert: Proceed.

ADA Essval: Dr. Pernal, if a pregnant Human female is killed with the fetus in the first trimester, is there any hope for the fetus' survival? *Interrogative Cough*

Dr. Pernal: Well, I'm not an expert in Human physiology, but the answer is definitely "no". *Emphatic Cough*

ADA Essval: What if a Race Female dies after laying an egg? *Interrogative Cough*

Dr. Pernal: The egg is fully capable of continued development, but still vulnerable to elemental changes and dangers as I mentioned before.

ADA Essval: Nothing more, Your Honor.

Judge Holbert: Very well, the witness is dismissed. Prosecution, you may call your next witness.

ADA Rothschild: Thank you, Your Honor. The City of New York calls Dr. Favvur.

Dr. Favvur, a Male in Cultural Studies body paint, takes the stand and swears in in the name of the Emperors Past.

ADA Rothschild: Dr. Favvur, could you please tell the jury of your qualifications.

Dr. Favvur: Yes, Councilor. I am a doctor of Race Cultural Studies, Superior Degree from the Imperial Academy at Mexico City, PhD from Stanford. I have many published and peer-reviewed works on Race cultural and historical patterns and Race cultural law.

ADA Rothschild: The City would like to enter Dr. Favvur as an expert.

Judge Holbert: Noted.

ADA Rothschild: Dr. Favvur, in traditional Race culture and law, what is the status of an egg?

Dr. Favvur: Well, an egg is identified as a developmental and legal entity distinct from a hatched Race member or a gravid female, though there's some dispute over when an unlaid egg is considered viable on its own.

ADA Rothschild: So, is an egg considered alive by Race law and tradition?

Dr. Favvur: by Race law and tradition, yes, and this is almost universally accepted in the Empire and by known records has been the case since at least the reign of the 4th Emperor Barraal thirteen thousand years ago.

ADA Rothschild: So, an egg isn't specifically a 'hatchling', but it is a distinct living entity in its own right, and certainly not a part of the laying female the way an unlaid egg might be.

Dr. Favvur: That's correct by Race tradition at least.

ADA Rothschild: So Human abortion law, such as Rowe vs. Wade really doesn't apply to a laid egg.

Councilor Aldiss: Objection; relies on legal speculation where no precedent exists.

Judge Holbert: Sustained. The jury is instructed to ignore that remark.

ADA Rothschild: Let me rephrase: to the Race, would Rowe Vs. Wade apply...

Councilor Aldiss: Objection; speculation.

Judge Holbert: Again, sustained. Stick to the facts, Councilor Rothschild.

ADA Rothschild: Sorry, Your Honor. Alright, Dr. Favvur, as an expert on Race Culture and Law, in your professional opinion should Rowe vs. Wade apply to an already laid egg?

Dr. Favvur: In my professional opinion, no. In my opinion it would apply to an unlaid egg within a gravid female, however.

ADA Rothschild: Thank you, doctor, that will be all.

Judge Holbert (turning to the Defense): Your witness, Councilors.

Councilor Seneca: Thank you, Your Honor. (turns to Dr. Favvur). Doctor Favvur, what are the Empire's laws on purposfully or negligently causing an unlaid egg in a gravid Female to be lost?

Dr. Favvur: It is still treated as Ovicide.

Councilor Seneca: So, no legal difference between an unlaid and laid egg in the Empire?

Dr. Favvur: No.

Councilor Seneca: Doctor Favvur, before Emperor... (checks notes) ...Barraal, was there any opposing view on the status of Eggs or Gravid Females?

Dr. Favvur: Well, that's hard to say distinctly as before the Fourth Emperor Barraal there were no official laws on the subject. There's little mention of the loss of pre-lay eggs in gravid females either, save in passing mention. During the reign of the Second Emperor Guurktass there was some mention of both seperately in, well, call it and Epic: The Culling of Vurnarith. If I may attempt a quote: "...and by darkest hand they did kill the Males and smash the eggs and cut the bellies of the gravid such that never more would the Vurnarith oppose the divine rule..." or something to that effect. That's about the First Emperor Ruugal cementing his rule in a rebellious province and speaks to an older and barbaric practice of what Humans might call genocide, though such practice has been absent since the reign of the Thirty-Fourth Emp...

Councilor Seneca (interrupting): So the Epic places equal measure to egg breaking and belly-cutting?

Dr. Favvur: Well, we can't really weigh the perceived severity of one over the other, or even over the killing of the Males, so no, no such conclusion can be made either way. Besides, it's a printing of a much older spoken Epic, so who knows how things changed over...

Councilor Seneca (interrupting again): What about other cultures, before the Empire?

Dr. Favuur: (opens mouth in humor) Well, that's entirely more difficult! Exasperatingly few details survive, most writings, where they existed, being destroyed by the early Emperors as heresy or treason. There's some anecdotal evidence that some practiced egg smashing as birth control, at least in terms of writers or Emperors condemning such "barbaric and heathenish" actions in enemies, but no hard facts on such.

ADA Essval: Objection, Your Honor; is this line of banter going anywhere, or is the Defense just filibustering?

Judge Holbert: Councilor?

Councilor Seneca: Just attempting to establish that cultural beliefs exist as alternatives to Imperial custom, Your Honor.

Judge Holbert: Well, get on with it, then. We won't sit here all night listening to every historical account.

Councilor Seneca: Okay, Dr. Favvur, are you versed in any new post-colonization Race cultural beliefs?

Dr. Favvur: Yes, I've studied the subject quite extensively. An overwhelming majority, and as best as I can tell effectively all of those born off Tosev, still believe in traditional views on eggs.

Councilor Seneca: And what of the minority, in particular those born on Tosev and those born outside of Imperial lands?

Dr. Favvur: Well, a small but growing minority are starting to reanalyze traditional egg beliefs, particularly the use of contraception now that ginger has upset the standard reproduction cycles.

Councilor Seneca: And egg breaking?

Dr. Favvur: There have been a few small movements, notably in California, to promote such as population control and contraception.

Councilor Seneca: And how are these movements tied in with Female Rights?

Dr. Favvur: Um, Females and Males have traditionally carried equal footing in Race culture. It's Humans that place such importance on gender. But to answer your question yes, there's a faction that's gaining ground which beleives egg breaking to be a Female's choice, particularly in California where exposure to Human Feminist culture has been high.

Councilor Seneca: And these Females, do they mention Rowe vs. Wade?

Dr. Favvur: In many cases yes, Females of the Race have even quoted the case in speeches favoring "Reproductive Rights", as they've been calling them.

Councilor Seneca: So this group of Females equates Female Rights, Rowe v. Wade, and Egg rights?

Dr, Favvur: In the case of that small group, yes.

Councilor Seneca: Thank you, doctor, that is all.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XIV: Contempt


Trial Day 28. On the stand is Dr. Machugo (forensics).

ADA Essval: And the second hatchling is confirmed to have hatched in the park from an egg laid by the defendant?

Dr. Machugo: Forensic and TNA matches confirm the egg was laid by the defendant, in the park, and shows no evidence that the egg was given any special care or attention after the fact.

ADA Essval: And yet the egg hatched?

Dr. Machugo: Yes. The spot was sheltered enough to retain heat over the summer nights without overheating in the daytime.

ADA Essval: And was this spot, in your professional opinion, chosen for that purpose? To incubate the egg and allow hatching?

Dr. Machugo: In my opinion, no. The egg was merely laid in the dirt without an attempt to cover the egg. There is no evidence based on the site to give any appearance that it is a good site to lay.

ADA Essval: But in this case it was.

Dr. Machugo: Yes. By chance, in my professional opinion.

ADA Essval: What of the other eggs TNA matched to the defendant?

Dr. Machugo: Fragments of the one leading to the hatching of the older hatchling on the west end were found in a pile of rubbish, by chance near a heat grate.

ADA Essval: And were any others found?

Dr. Machugo: Yes. We have since uncovered four other eggs TNA-matched to the defendant in other sites around the park and alleyways. None of the others showed any more or less attempt at care than the two which hatched. None of these four survived. Rats got two, heat got a third, and the fourth was crushed when the dumpster it was laid behind was dropped onto it, presumably after a garbage truck lifted and replaced the dumpster.

Pan to jury. All look uncomfortable, many angry. One Race Female is clenching her claws reflexively, one turret on the defendant.

ADA Essval: Six eggs, none in your opinion given any attempt at formal protection, none visited after the fact save by predators and rodents, four destroyed by the ordeal, two, by luck in your professional forensic opinion, hatched by happenstance. One of these hatchlings was then quickly killed. Dr. Machugo, could you describe what killed the Central Park hatchling?

Dr. Machugo: It was a clear case of injury sustained by dog attack. The offending dog, a stray since captured by Animal Control, tested, and put down, attacked and killed the hatchling mere days after hatching.

ADA Essval: Your Honor, the City of New York would like to submit Exhibit D, the forensic photos of the egg sites and the second hatchling's post-mortem.

Councilor Aldiss: Your honor, may we approach the bench?

Judge Holbert: Yes, you may.

All councilors, prosecution and defense, approach the bench, as does the court recorder.

Councilor Aldiss: Your Honor, the images the prosecution wishes to show are unnecessarily gory and biasing to the jury, as we maintained pre-trial.

ADA Essval: Yes, and that objection was overruled then. This is a manslaughter case...forensic photos are perfectly justified evidence of the nature and severity of the crime.

Judge Holbert: She's right, councilor.

Councilor Aldiss: But Your Honor, it's obvious that the prosecution merely added the manslaughter charges to improve their bargaining position, and I suspect to allow the photos in as evidence! *Emphatic Cough*

Judge Holbert: Well, Ms. Aldiss, that's the way the system works. Your client is always permitted the right to cross-examine...or to plea. In fact, it was your client that insisted on trial.

Councilor Seneca: Your Honor, our client, and ourselves, continue to feel that our client's actions are neither technically illegal nor ethically questionable when awarded the same rights as a Human Female, and that this trial is a witch hunt.

Judge Holbert: And so you have maintained, councilor. But the city has begun the prosecution under existing statutes, I have seen nothing to refute their legal correctness, and therefore I maintain that the trial is legitimate. Otherwise, I would have thrown the case out - I have no more desire to spend any more time in this courtroom than anyone else. Whether your client's actions are or are not legally improper is for the jury to decide. The photos are still in.

Councilor Seneca: But Your Honor!

Judge Holbert: No "buts", councilor. (aloud to the court) The court accepts City's Exhibit D.

Pan to jury as the photos are passed through. Looks of shock and revulsion. The claw-curling Female now hisses lowly at the images, her head-scales raising aggressively.

Pan to the defendant Rassgur, who is scratching her skin nervously, turrets twitching. Zoom in to where she reaches nonchalantly into a hip pouch and withdraws a closed fist. Eye turrets scanning about nervously, she brings the fist to her mouth. Her tongue darts to the fist, into the palm. She slides back and hisses with relief.

Moments later, the Males of the room, to jurors included, hiss. Their crest scales lift. Rassgur walks out into the court, blissfully empty in her actions, and begins to assume a mating position. A gasp of shock goes through the courtroom.

Judge Holbert (standing up, pounding the gavel): Order! Order! For the love of God, Order!

Chaos breaks out in the courtroom as the Bailiffs rush to hold back the Males, who are beginning to hiss and take aggressive stances towards one another. Councilor Aldiss hisses. Councilor Seneca rushes to pull back her client. ADA Rothschild puts her head into her hands.

{Cut Scene}


Judge's chambers. Defendent and all councilors present. Rassgur is in constraints, a Bailiff standing over her shoulder.

Judge Holbert (red faced with rage): This is an outrage! Drug use...in my courtroom?! A damned mating frenzy?! What were you thinking?

Rassgur: I...I needed...had to have...

Judge Holbert: What, drugs? A distraction? Or did you hope that by mating with a juror you'd gain a mistrial? In addition to the contempt charges you're now facing, I'm adding assault charges for injuries sustained by the Bailiffs, who now require stitches, while breaking up the fight! Thank the Lord they prevented the mating! Thank Him even more I'd refused any cameras! In addition to the $15,000 fine, I'm remanding the defendant to custody for the remainder of the trial. I'm ordering ginger-sniffing beffels to check everyone who enters the courtroom.

Councilor Seneca: Your Honor! Our client has already paid bail and...

Judge Holbert: You can stop right there, councilor. Your client waved any such rights the second she turned my courtroom into a circus! More to the point, I'm citing both of you for allowing this to happen! Your client was by my orders clean when she left custody, which means she's getting her drugs from somewhere. Either you failed in your duties to your client by allowing her access, or you had a more direct hand. (silences an attempt by Councilor Seneca to talk with a hand gesture) Either way, you're both on notice. And believe me, there will be an investigation. Get the hell out of my chambers!

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XV: Crucible


{Dun-Dun}

Trial Day 32: Defense roughly midway through arguments. A long-haired man in a suit (Dr. Resnik, Developmental Medicine) is on the stand.

Councilor Seneca: So once again, this time with regards to hormonal levels, the traits of the newly-laid egg are in keeping with a first trimester fetus?

Dr. Resnik: That is correct. When coupled with the cell growth we see more correlation that in terms of... (fades to background)

Pan to ADAs Essval and Rothschild at prosecution table.

ADA Rothschild: Lord, how many expert witnesses can they bring up to all say the same damned thing?

ADA Essval: They're attempting to bamboozle the jury with sheer data overload. Doesn't appear to be working, though. At least not for Juror #6.

Camera jump to the juror, a Race Female, who's clenching her claws and irritably working her mouth. One turret jumps between the councilor and the witness, one glued to the defendant.

ADA Rothschild: She looks hissed, that's for sure. The rest don't seem too convinced either. I think that ginger...event really destroyed their sympathies. Can they even hope for an acquittal at this point?

ADA Essval: It's not looking good for them, that's for sure.

Dr. Resnik: ...when looked at in isolation, the manner of the growth rate...

ADA Essval: Objection, Your Honor. Is this going anywhere? *Interrogative Cough* This testimony is almost identical to the last four witnesses. Is there some overall pattern I'm missing here or is the Defense merely trying to bury the case in redundancy? *Interrogative Cough*

Judge Holbert: Approach the bench.

At the bench.

Judge Holbert: The Councilor makes a fair point, madam. Where exactly is this going?

Councilor Seneca: It reiterates our main point that there is no real physiological difference between the egg and the early Human fetus. It's a cornerstone of our ascertation that Rowe v. Wade applies.

ADA Essval: Shall we also reiterate for the fifth time in cross-examination that the egg is self-supportive? *Interrogative Cough*

Judge Holbert: That's enough. Councilor Seneca, how many more of these embryonic witnesses do you have?

Councilor Seneca: Five more.

ADA Essval hisses in irritation.

Councilor Seneca: And it is my right as an attorney to call the witnesses I feel are necessary in the best interest of my client. *Emphatic Cough*

Judge Holbert: Yes, that is your right. (looks towards the bored-looking or hostile-looking jury) Might I advise that you closely examine what's truly in your client's best interests and what may in reality be only in your own?

Councilor Seneca: And what is that supposed to mean? Excuse me, Your Honor?

The judge stares at her for a moment, then sighs slightly.

Judge Hoblert (out loud): Objection is overruled. You may continue, Councilors.

Back at prosecution table.

ADA Rothschild: How many more?

ADA Essval: Five.

ADA Rothschild: *Emphatic Cough*

{Cut Scene}


Precinct break room. Stabler and T'Surlak are drinking qwerg or coffee. The TV is on (news; sports highlights).

Det. Stabler: What about Soccer? That's big in most of the Empire lands among the Big Uglies, any following among the Race?

Det. T'Surlak: Not hardly. Some of the young Lizards may be trying it, but I'd assume toe-claws and leather balls don't mix well. There's an old game on Home where you knee and elbow a ball...

TV Commentator: In courtroom news today the case of the Central Park Wild Child continues into its fourth month and protesters continue to mob the courthouse steps (Scene of opposed mobs of protesters; Suddenly boos compete with cheers as Rasgur is lead by police along the cordon). So far things have remained calm. As you may recall, earlier the trial was broken up in a chaotic melee as the defendant apparently took some ginger and went into heat in the courtroom. (Artists rendition comes up on the screen showing the mess) Needless to say the Judge was not pleased with... (Fades into background)

Det. T'Surlak: *hiss* Emperor's Cloaca, what a mess.

Det. Stabler: I must say I'm glad to have handed that one off. I think we can both agree on that one.

Det. T'Surlak: No kidding. (sips qwerg)

Capt. Van Buren walks in.

Capt. Van Buren: T'Surlak, it's time.

Det. T'surlak hisses again.

Det. Stabler: What is it?

Det. T'Surlak: Time to take Westie to the Orphanage.

{Uncomfortable Silence}

Det. Stabler: I'm sorry.

Det. T'Surlak: Yea, me too. *Emphatic Cough*

Capt. Van Buren: I'm sure he'll be fine.

{Scene Jump}

T'Surlak's car pulls up in front of the Race Adoption Center. T'Surlak gets out and opens the back door. Westie is busy chewing at the straps of his child seat restraints.

Det. T'Surlak: Come on, you.

{Scene Jump}

At the front desk. A bored looking Female in Administrative Worker's body paint mans the computer.

Administrator: Name.

Det. T'Surlak: Er..."Westie", I guess.

Administrator (turns a turret to Westie; he's trying to chew at the plastic plant by the desk): Right. The Wild Child. Got the transfer papers?

Det. T'Surlak: Here. (hands over a stack of papers)

Administrator (looks through papers, stamps, signs, and returns a single sheet): There. Transfer complete. (Hits a button) You can hand off the kid to the orderlies.

The two big doors open up and a couple big men in white uniforms walk out. One walks up to Westie. Westie hisses and hides behind T'Surlak.

Det. T'Surlak: It's ok, Westie, these guys are taking you to your new home.

Westie hissed louder as the one grabs his arm and pulls him towards the doors.

Orderly 1: Come on, guy.

Westie hisses and bites his arm.

Orderly 1: Ow! You little bastard!

The other orderly grabs Westie. Westie is kicking and hissing.

Det. T'Surlak: Hey! *Emphatic Cough* Easy on the kid!

Orderly 2: We don't tell you your job. (to back) Hey! We need a shot of trurgline here!

Westie yelps towards T'Surlak as they carry him back.

Eye turrets twitching nervously T'Surlak starts to turn to leave, stops, looks back with a turret, curses in race and storms off towards the front door. His hand hesitates at the handle and balls into a fist, the claws leaving indents in his palm scales.

[Geekhis Khan]

Conclusion: Only Just Begun


Capt. Anita Van Buren's Office. T'Surlak sits across from Van Buren.

Capt. Van Buren: Adoption?

Det. T'Surlak: Well, foster care to begin with. Adoption takes years and a long background check, but it seems like any Lizard off the street can become a foster parent.

Capt. Van Buren: Well, that bodes well. Look, parenting is a difficult job with a well-behaved kid. And while you claim to have a good rapport with him, Westie is a handful.

Det. T'Surlak: Enkidu.

Capt. Van Buren: What?

Det. T'Surlak: I'm naming him Enkidu, after your you'd call it old legend of Gilgamesh; Enkidu was the wild man. It was that or Mowgli.

Capt. Van Buren (smiles warmly): Enkidu. In all seriousness, your job takes a lot of time already. Can you do both?

Det. T'Surlak: I've already set up with the day care here. Dr. Purriq has volunteered to help monitor and teach him to adapt. I practically raised my brother myself since mom was a ginger fiend so I know the tricks. Plus there's my cousin who has kids of her own and can help out.

Capt. Van Buren: Then I don't need to tell you how much work it is. But I'm letting you know now that if Enkidu starts to suffer for your work then I'm transferring you to a nine-to-five and off of the detective squad.

Det. T'Surlak: Understood. Thank you, Captain.

Capt. Van Buren (sympathetically): Just be careful, T'Surlak.

{Cut Scene}


Outside the Courthouse. The police are escorting in the defendant Rassgur. Protesters and counter-protesters are screaming and chanting. A Race male in Truck Driver's body paint pushes up to the sawhorses. He pulls a pistol out of a hip pack.

Male (in Race): <Killer! Egg-smasher!>

The Male fires two shots before the cops wrestle him down. Chaos and screaming break out among the crowd.

{Dramatic Music}

Shaky-cam pan to Rassgur who's on the ground covered by the cops and seemingly unhurt. Now the camera pans to two protesters, one screaming over the limp body of a woman.

{Cut Scene}

Inside the Courtroom. The Defense has another witness on the stand. Councilor Aldiss interviews the witness (indistinct in the background). Pan back to ADAs Essval and Rothschild.

ADA Rothschild: I see they have no plans to call Rassgur to the stand.

ADA Essval: Would you? *Interrogative Cough*

ADA Rothschild: Good point. (sighs) Why won't they talk to us on a plea? Their client is going down and going down hard. At the rate things are going Jack's ploy with the Manslaughter might just actually stick!

ADA Essval: Well, there's that precedent you were fearing. Not that it matters why she's in jail. If that nut this morning is any indication she'll need to be in protective custody in prison.

ADA Rothschild: Wow, no kidding. How's that woman?

ADA Essval: Critical condition, but they think she'll pull through. I hope you're up to an attempted murder and manslaughter trial.

Judge Holbert (breaking in): Prosecution? Your witness.

ADA Essval: On my way, Your Honor. (quietly, to Rothschild) I'll just be glad to end this one.

{Cut Scene}

Females' Room. ADA Rothschild walks in. Councilor Seneca is at the mirror straightening her hair.

ADA Rothschild (walking up): Councilor.

Councilor Seneca: Councilor.

ADA Rothschild (after a pause): Look, I know I shouldn't be saying this...

Councilor Seneca (interrupting): Then why are you?

ADA Rothschild: Because you're killing your client! Look at this morning. Look at the jury! Your client is going to jail and by all rights she's going to get shanked.

Councilor Seneca: Then drop the charges.

ADA Rothschild (curses under breath): You know that's not possible. Look, just take a plea. How about if I talk to the DA about protective custody in a medical center. She needs treatment and care. She's one of the worst ginger cases I've seen.

Councilor Seneca: Why Councilor, are we dealing on the side? Because I do believe there are ethical ramifications there.

ADA Rothschild (stunned for a second; moment of sudden clarity on her face): I get it now. You want your client to be convicted. You want this to go to appeal! You're using this courtroom as a damned soap box!

Councilor Seneca: To the Supreme Court, if we have to. There's a greater cause here.

ADA Rothschild stands stunned.

Councilor Seneca (turns to leave): It's how the system works, Councilor. Don't look so shocked.

{Cut Scene}


Night. Sammy's Pub. Rothschild walks in, shoulders slumped. She sighs and crashes at the bar, raising a finger. The bartender begins to mix up a drink. Sgt. Munch walks up.

Sgt. Munch: So, how's the woman of my dreams doing?

ADA Rothschild: I'm assuming you mean Ms. Seneca. She's being a stupid, stubborn bitch is what she's doing.

Sgt. Munch: That's my girl! And how's the case?

ADA Rothschild: Horrible. We're winning. The stupid ginger head is going to prison, most likely. And the prosecution couldn't be happier. I'm beginning to wonder who Rassgur should fear the most: the madmen out there on the streets, or the mad men on her own defense team. As best as I can tell they want nothing more than to take this up to the Supreme Court, client's needs be damned. They want a Race Rowe v. Wade.

Sgt. Munch: Well, they're going to get it one way or another. Our beloved boys and girls in the Congress are already talking about a new Egg bill sponsored by Owens of Vermont. Needless to say the issue's contentious and the lines with the Scarlet A are getting more than blurred.

ADA Rothschild: Well, if nothing else this case is bringing the issue up.

Sgt. Munch (takes a drink): Are you kidding? The decision was planned months ago in a back room in DC somewhere. The rest is just a show for the voters.

ADA Rothschild (laughs): That's my boy!


{Dun-Dun}

New York v. Rassgur. Day 4 of jury deliberations.

The Courtroom. The jury box is still empty. ADAs Rothschild and Essval are talking quietly.

ADA Essval: This is taking forever! *Emphatic Cough* is the jury deadlocked?

ADA Rothschild: I'm starting to wonder if this case is as open-shut as I thought.

They're interrupted when the jury room door opens. The jury quietly returns to their seats. The Bailiff carries a slip of paper to the judge, who reads it.

{Dramatic Music}

Judge Holbert: Males and Females of the jury, have you reached a decision?

Foreman: We have, Your Honor.

Judge Holbert: Would the defendant please rise? (Rassgur stands; she looks shaky and distracted, scratching herself)

Foreman:On the two charges of Child Abandonment we find the defendant guilty by unanimous decision.

A quiet murmur travels through the courtroom.

Foreman: On the charge of Manslaughter in the Second Degree, in a seven to five decision, we find the defendant not guilty.

Rassgur continues to stare absently into space as the murmurs grow louder.

{Cut Scene}


DA McCoy's office. McCoy sits at the couch with ADAs Essval and Rothschild.

DA McCoy: Needless to say they've filed an appeal.

ADA Rothschild: If I could prove they're using the client for political gain I'd have them disbarred.

DA McCoy: You think I haven't tried? The problem with activist lawyers is that they're often activists first and lawyers second.

ADA Essval: Well, we did our part. It's up to higher powers now. I'll let them take the heat from now on.

ADA Rothschild: Oh...hell.

DA McCoy: What now?

ADA Rothschild: Heat. Rassgur's egg.

ADD Essval: What? Which one? *Interrogative Cough*

ADA Rothschild: The new one. She was gravid when she entered custody, but she wasn't a few weeks later during the trial when ginger put her into season.

DA McCoy: Oh hell! I'll check with the hatching center. (picks up phone)

ADA Essval (quickly going through files): Don't bother, Jack. She was three weeks along at the time of arrest, which makes her due...about two months after she was in heat.

{Uncomfortable silence}

DA McCoy: Early lay?

ADA Essval: Possible, but doubtful.

ADA Rothschild: You don't think her attorneys...

DA McCoy: Oh damn it all!

{Cut Scene}


Night. T'Surlak's apartment. The lock turns and the door opens. In charges Enkidu (nee Westie) who, hissing and growling, starts jumping on the couch and biting pillows.

T'Surlak walks in looking exhausted, bark-coughs a couple times and Enkidu settles down momentarily.

T'Surlak grabs a bottle from the fridge, sits on the couch, and turns on the TV.

Enkidu curls up next to him, head on his lap, and growl-purrs as T'Surlak starts to scratch him on the back of the head.

Camera pans back and fades to black as Enkidu nods off, T'Surlak flipping channels.

A Geek Wolf Production

[Geekhis Khan]

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to current events or real beings, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

In the criminal justice system, offenses involving members of the Race contain inherent diplomatic concerns. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these special cases are members of an elite squad known as the Race Affairs Unit. These are their stories.

{Dun-Dun}


Law & Order: Race Affairs Unit


Episode 42: Menage Abattoir

Part I: the Rendering



552 E. 5th St.

10 am. A meat-packing plant. Azwaca carcasses hang from hooks on a conveyor. A mix of Human and Race workers in white outfits, masks, and hairnets for Humans cut off various parts systematically.

Pan to a section where heads are being removed and placed on a conveyor. The conveyor takes the heads through a gap in the wall.

A man and a Race member, the former in a sport coat, the latter in Project Management body paint, walk across the floor.

Man: So far sales are up for steaks and we just may manage the Beffel Chow contract with the remainders.

Race member: Good, should offset the money from the Render Products and help balance the books.

They walk through a door near where the azwaca heads are passing through the wall. They enter a back room where workers are removing brains and placing them on another conveyor through the next wall.

Man: Render Product sales are very profitable, as we expected, but keeping appearances up is turning out to be a real issue.

Race member: Not that it should be a problem, at least not for a while.

Man: Still, considering how similar things have gone in the past...

They pass through another door, this one needing to be unlocked. Here the brains are being cut up and a small gland is being removed and set aside into trays. The trays are carried off-screen and the rest of the brains pass by on another conveyor.

Race member (walking up to a table): Yes, things will be more...complicated certainly once... *hiss*

Man: What is it.

Race member (looking over past a table with a disturbed look): I think we have a problem *Emphatic Cough*

The man walks up and looks over, his face showing disgust. Pan over to the spot, revealing a half-dozen cockroaches.

Man: Damn it, roaches. It'll take forever to get rid of them if they've established themselves.

Race member: Great more expenses.

Suddenly the back door is violently busted in. In rush a line of Humans and a couple Race members all in SWAT gear.

SWAT 1: NYPD! Get on the floor now!

The SWAT team expertly fans out and puts all the workers onto the floor, zip-tying their hands.

SWAT 2 (into radio): Room 3 Secure, over.

Man (on ground, hands being zip-tied): Damn it, this is uncalled for!

Race member (also being zip-tied): I'll call our lawyer.

Camera pans over to left, revealing where the gland lugs have gone. The glands were being put in a boiler. A series of glass pipes leads eventually to a drip station. Earlier vials from the drip-station are drying over a burner. A further left-pan reveals the dried drippings, now green-brown crystals, laying out on a sheet.

{Dun-Dun}


Later. Police radios squawk. Uniformed officers and CSI teams wander about the meat plant. Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak walk up to the drying station.

Det. T'Surlak: "Render Products"...what a nice euphemism.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I guess putting "new street drugs" on the tax records might garner unnecessary attention.

Det. T'Surlak: Well, they can consider this an audit.

Det. Fitzsimmons picks up one of the drip vials. A CSI agent turns to him.

CSI: Hey, don't mess up my crime scene!

Det. Fitzsimmons puts down the vial and holds up his hands.

Det. T'Surlak: What do you got, Umbane? *Interogative Cough*

CSI (Umbane): They call it on the street "azwaca juice" or "wacin' it". It's an extract from a brain gland in azwacas similar to the hypothalamus. The stuff has compounds chemically similar to anabolic steroids, adrenaline, and dopamine. To the Race it would cause severe nervous shock in these concentrations, but in Humans it acts as a serious neuro-stimulant and euphoric.

Det. Fitzsimmons: So, like a PCP-Cocaine cocktail with a twist of steroids.

Umbane: Um...why not. I have read from emergency rooms. The people who use it are dangerously violent, manic. Some die from shock. Their hearts explode. We do not yet know all the short- or long-term effects, but it is not pretty.

Det. T'Surlak (completely serious): I heard from Vice that it also makes you go blind and can make hair grow on the inside of your hands.

Fitzsimmons and Umbane exchange glances.

Det. Fitzsimmons (quietly chuckling): They're just messing with you. I'll explain later.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part II: Curbside Stakeout



Madison and Clinton. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are in an unmarked cruiser observing an El Lagarto member on the corner. A tired looking man walks up. They exchange quick words, then exchange cash for a baggie. The man walks off, the El Lagarto member pockets the cash.

Det. T'Surlak: Sold American. That's number 27 in the last hour.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Every cop part of me wants to bust this guy. Just what we need, another damned street drug in this town.

Det. T'Surlak: We're here to count customers. Besides, the Wac isn't illegal yet. Technically that red-wigged bastard can sell that crap all day.

Det. Fitzsimmons: I know, I know. Still doesn't make it right. (yawns)

Det. T'Surlak: Stayed up for the game again?

Det. Fitzsimmons: Yea...worth it, though. Three extra innings. Vasslak broke the tie in the bottom of the 12th with a sacrifice single from Rodriguez.

Det. T'Surlak: I'll never get the point in that game. Staying up all night waiting for a Man or Lizard to hit a ball with a stick. Not that I get any sleep anymore either. Enkidu got into the blutwurst and you know what that does to him. Up all night chasing him. Yet another pillow purchase in the future, too.

Det. Fitzsimmons: At this rate Sofa King's going to name their next franchise after you.

Det. T'Surlak: No kidding *Emphatic Cough* Hey, here's lucky customer number 28.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Does he win the shopping spree?

A bedraggled, agitated man walks up to the El Lagarto. They start to talk. The El Lagarto looks dismissive; the man becomes more agitated. Soon an argument breaks out. The El Lagarto walks away. The man charges him and grabs him. A fight starts breaking out.

Det. T'Surlak: *hiss* here we go. (grabs CB) T'Surlak, dispatch; we have a 240 in progress at Madison and Clinton. Intervening; send us a squad car.

Det. Fitzsimmons gets out of the car and walks up, flashing badge.

Det. Fitzsimmons: NYPD, cease and desist! (the fight continues) T'Surlak?

Det. T'Surlak: On the way.

The detectives approach. The El Lagarto is hopelessly scratching the man in the face. The man doesn't seem to notice even as the blood rolls down.

El Lagarto (in race): <*hiss* Get him off of me! Get him off of me!>

Fitzsimmons grabs the man's shoulders to pull him away. The man yells, his eyes bloodshot and dilated. The man pushes Fitzsimmons, who flies violently to the ground. T'Surlak pulls out pepper spray and and sprays the man in the eyes. He bellows and charges half-blinded. T'Sulrak steps out of the way, drops the spray and grabs the man's right hand, flipping the arm over and pile-driving the man face-first into the ground with the arm. Fitzsimmons, back on his feet, jumps on the man's back and struggles to keep him down long enough to cuff him.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Christ, it's like wrestling a bear!

Sirens. A squad car pulls up and the uniformed officers pile on. They manage to cuff and restrain the man, who keeps bellowing and frothing at the mouth.

Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak, the former with a trickle of blood on the elbow, sit panting on the curb as the uniformed officers contain the situation.

Det. Fitzsimmons (panting): Good...god...what a...mess.

Det. T'Surlak (panting): No...crap.

Det. Fitzsimmons (partly catching breath): Where'd you...learn that trick? That's...not standard NY...PD training.

Det. T'Surlak: Been...studying Aikido. Need all...the help I...can with crazy...Big Uglies. Seemed...to work.

Det. Fitzsimmons: First round's...on me. Damned azwaca brains. May be the next crack.

Det. T'Surlak: Serves you...Big Uglies right...after Ginger.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Payback's...a bitch.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part III: Technically Legal


{Dun-Dun}

DA Jack McCoy's office. ADAs Essval and Rothschild sit at the conference table with DA McCoy. They have a dossier open with the mug shots of the man and Race member from the butcher's.

ADA Rothschild: The man is Stanley Leonard Goetz, a former small-time money launderer, supposedly gone legit. The Race member is Yassal, a Brooklyn native who used to run with Grissel's gang before they got absorbed into El Lagarto. He's got a few priors on ginger dealing, a few months served, no arrests within the last seven years.

DA McCoy: I remember Goetz. I put him away for seven; he got out on parole after three. Is there enough from the bust to put these two away for real time?

ADA Essval: Well, to be honest no. Technically nothing they did was illegal. Their company, Empire Meats, is licensed to handle and sell Azwaca products, and Azwaca Gland distillate is officially still a meat biproduct.

DA McCoy: You're kidding me...the prisons are clogged with Wac addicts who committed petty larceny and assault, and street violence is on the rise because of this stuff...and you're telling me it's not illegal?

ADA Essval: Not yet. There's a bill in the State legislature and another in the House to add Azwaca Gland distillate as a Class A narcotic, but both bills are dragging, the Fed one due to riders. Until those bills are through, it's legal to produce, distribute, and sell Wac.

DA McCoy: Unbelievable.

ADA Rothschild: Needless to say their attorneys are demanding their release.

DA McCoy (curses under breath): Ok, we have to have something on them. Why again did we go in in the first place?

ADA Rothschild: Mayor's orders. He wanted the place shut down, even if only long enough to allow the laws through.

DA McCoy: Which of course opens the city up to a lawsuit. Damn it, mayor!

{Silence}

ADA Essval (flipping through the papers): Here we go: health violations. Cockroaches, unsanitary meat handling.

ADA Rothschild: Here's another: labor law. The justification to raid the plant to begin with was under INS. They netted fourteen undocumented immigrants, all Race. They also found seven workers wanted for various crimes, two for felonies.

DA McCoy: Alright, that gives us health code violations, hiring of illegals, and we might be able to swing aiding and abetting if we can prove they knowingly hired fugitives.

ADA Essval: Many are El Lagarto; we can find as link there, possibly even pursue RICO if we can trace any of the gang's profits through the company. Goetz was a convicted money launderer, after all.

DA McCoy: Good, good.

ADA Rothschild: Still, unless we can find a RICO link it feels like we're grasping at straws here trying to do anything we can to pull the mayor's butt out of the fire.

ADA Essval: That's because we are.

DA McCoy: Forget he mayor, I want these guys shut down myself. Legal or not, that Azwaca distillate is a serious drug menace and I don't want it in my city!

[Geekhis Khan]

Part IV: Immigrations and Interrogations


Precinct interrogation room. A scared Race member in USA body paint is sitting at the table. T'Surlak sits across from him. Fitzsimmons paces behind.

Det. T'Surlak (in Race): <Visitor Fraass, you have to work with us here. You're facing more charges than just residence without a visa.>

Det. Fitzsimmons (stopping, staring at Fraas; also in Race): <Yea, like aiding and abetting! *Emphatic Cough* (leans on table, aggressively) Listen, "visitor", I can send you home to the Empire as an errant tourist, or as a known accomplice of ginger smugglers. How about that? *Interrogative Cough*>

Fraass: <Please, Superior Sirs! *Emphatic Cough* I just wanted to have a job! I work as an azwaca butcher! I never worked with ginger! I don't even use ginger! I'm sorry I didn't know your visitation rules! I just want to go back to my apartment! *Emphatic Cough*>

Det. T'Surlak: <We can't do that.> INS <is going to send you back to the Empire. That's beyond our control. What we can offer you, in return for your cooperation, is a good word to> INS <for when you apply legally for a visa.>

Fraass: <What can I do? *Interrogative Cough*>

Det. T'Surlak: <The> Empire Meats <company records list you as... (one eye turret to a paper) ..."Butcher's Assistant Gryyr" with a valid worker's number...>

Det. Fitzsimmons (interrupting): <Yea, one we traced to a Race member killed in a ginger deal gone wrong. *Emphatic Cough*>

Det. T'Surlak: <Would you care to explain how you got this identity? *Interrogative Cough*>

Fraass (eye turrets drop in defeat): <The...the company gave it to me. They had me pretend to be Gryyr. In return I got the job...and no questions on my immigration status. Please, please Superior Sirs, I didn't mean any harm! I just wanted to see the Tosevite Not-Empires before I disappeared into a dull job in Accounting for the Empire! *Emphatic Cough*>

Det. T'Surlak: <Are you prepared to testify to the court about this? *Interrogative Cough*>

Fraass (thinks for a second): <It shall be done, Superior Sir! *Emphatic Cough*>

Det. T'Surlak: <Thank you for your time, Visitor Fraass.>

{Cut Scene}

Police break room. Fitzsimmons is swirling creamer into coffee. T'Surlak is salting his Qwerg.

Det. Fitzsimmons: God, I hate harassing poor shlubs like Fraass there. Stupid addled kid doesn't know what he got himself into.

Det. T'Surlak: And for two bucks an hour, no less. Still, though, that's a third undoc willing to testify to being issued a false identity. Along with the five willing to sign affidavits we've got more than enough for Jack to prove the company knowingly hired illegals and concealed their identity.

Det. Fitzsimmons (sipping coffee, making a bitter face): Ugh, who brewed this?

Det. T'Surlak: You should try the Qwerg. I have to salt it like the Dead Sea to make it palatable.

Det. Fitzsimmons: At least we can move on to a real perp. now. Next on deck is a Lagarto named *Emphatic Cough* Yaars. And yes, that's his street name: "*Emphatic Cough*".

Det. T'Surlak: Now you Big Uglies have taught us how to mangle our own grammar. <Thank you, Tosevite friends *Emphatic Cough*>

Det. Fitzsimmons: Don't mention it. Anyway, this guy's touched more ginger than a Sushi chef. We find a link to El Lagarto and we've got the last nail in Empire Meats' coffin.

Det. T'Surlak: Nothing shy of a confession is cracking that one. The books are clean as best as we can tell and there's no evidence that Goetz and Grissel are in any way more conspicuously wealthy than their positions as legitimate plant managers would allow.

{Cut Scene}

Back in the interrogation room. A Race member in El Lagarto gear (neon green wig) is kicked back, feet on the table.

Yaars: Eat it, Lizard. I gots a right to work same as any Lizard off the street.

Det. T'Surlak: Some manners right now might help your case, Mr. *Emphatic Cough*.

Det. Fitzsimmons: Listen, *Emphatic Cough*, we found a nickel of ginger on you, and with your priors you're looking at hard time at Riker's. I bet a little doll like you'd stand in well once the ginger's made the rounds.

Yaars (without conviction in his voice): Lizards don't work that way, Big Ugly, even in the Green Stripe Salon.

Det. Fitzsimmons: You sure there, precious? *Interrogative Cough*

Det. T'Surlak (sends irritated eye turret to Fitzsimmons): Citizen Yaars, We're amicable fellows here, and we have bigger fish to fry. With your cooperation on a few questions about Empire Meats, it's funding, and its management we could find some leeway on the ginger.

Yaars (opens mouth in humor): Bite me, Lizard. The Green Stripe ain't nothin' next to what happens to snitches on the street. Ever heard of a Squishie? It's what happens when boot meets eye turret meets curb, capisce? Besides, What do I know about what goes on upstairs? Far as I know it's a legit place of business. I just applied to the place. Trying to raise money to put myself through rehab, yea? (opens mouth in humor)

Det. Fitzsimmons (leaning in): How about I wipe that grin off your snout for you? *Emphatic Cough*

Yaars: Try it, Big Ugly. Leave lots of bruises. My lawyer'll be here soon. Buy me a mansion! *Emphatic Cough*

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part V: No Deal...


DA's conference room. DA McCoy and ADAs Essval and Rothschild sit across from Goetz, Grissel, and a Race member in Attorney's body paint.

DA McCoy: In addition to a willingness to shut down the operation, we're ready to limit the charges to misdemeanor health code violations and hiring of undocumented workers, average fines, no time served.

The Attorney whispers in his clients' ears. Goetz shakes his head. Grissel hisses. There's a quiet argument among the three. The phrase "take the deal" is barely audible out of the Attorney's mouth.

After a moment:

Attorney: My clients are unwilling to accept a deal and demand a trial.

DA McCoy: What? We have several witnesses and sworn testimonials as to your clients' hiring and protection of undocumented workers, identity fraud, which the City had been willing to drop, and a host of FDA-documented health violations from rat droppings to rat parts in the machinery! Numerous OSHA violations as well. Your clients are facing a total of four months' prison time for the sum total of all the violations, revocation of all operational permits in perpetuity, and over $100,000 in total fines. I strongly advise your clients reconsider.

Attorney (hisses): Their decision is final. We'll see you in court.

{Dun-Dun}


NY City Superior Court. Day 14 of NY v. Empire Meats, Judge Ressur presiding. Dr. McGowan of the NY Health Department is on the stands.

ADA Rothschild: So in conclusion, doctor, the defendants are in violation of how many health statutes?

Dr. McGowan: Twenty-seven, including failure to properly clean up the butchery floor after cutting, pest problems, contaminated meat, failure of proper employee sanitary measures, failure to use proper approved containers for storage and transport, and out of date inspection criteria. In all Empire Meats is a living example of how not to run a clean and sanitary operation.

ADA Rothschild: No further questions.

Judge Ressur: Attorney Hrassr, your witness.

Attorney Hrassr (the attorney from earlier, seeming oddly more confident than earlier): Thank you, Superior Female. Dr. McGowan, how does Empire Meats stack up against other butchers in the city? In terms of health grade.

Dr. McGowan: It ranks towards the bottom. Out of 36 meat processing stations Empire ranked 30th.

Attorney Hrassr: So, six others ranked lower. (eye turret to a paper) Of them I notice all six were reported before the raid on Empire..."Defense D", Your Honor (holds up paper). How many of the six have been put on trial?

Dr. McGowan: None, actually. Three have paid fines and the other three have yet to be processed...

ADA Rothschild (interrupting): Objection...relevance?

Attorney Hrassr: Goes to establishing that our client was singled out among several offenders, calling into question the fairness of this trial.

Judge Ressur: The other six plants are not on trial here, Attorney Hrassr, only your clients'. Sustained, and Defense D inadmissible on the same grounds. Do you have any questions regarding the specific evidence here?

Attorney Hrassr (looking smug despite the small defeat): No, Your Honor, I'm done.

Pan to the Prosecution's table. ADA Essval leans over to ADA Rothschild.

ADA Essval: What the hell is he up to?

ADA Rothschild: Beats me. That "we're being singled out" tactic almost never works, particularly with this jury (pan to jury, most sitting back looking annoyed).

{Time Skip}

On the stand is a man in an INS uniform, his badge reads "Rodriguez".

ADA Essval: Sgt. Rodriguez, we've heard from several witnesses now which all testified that the defendants knowingly falsified employee records to conceal their immigration status. What are your observations in this matter?

Sgt. Rodriguez: Exactly what the prior witnesses stated, ma'am. The defendants reported worker ID numbers and social security numbers which did not belong to the workers in question in order to conceal their undocumented status or in five cases conceal criminal backgrounds or known fugitives.

ADA Essval: So the defendants and Empire Meats knowingly hired undocumented workers and ineligible felons and fugitives and concealed their natures.

Sgt. Rodriguez: Yes.

ADA Essval: And there is no evidence as to the defense ascertaition that the workers falsified their identity themselves without company knowledge?

Sgt. Rodriguez: None. The witnesses all individually and without any ability to coordinate testimony all described an identical process used by the company.

ADA Essval: That's all, thank you, sergeant.

Judge Ressur: Your witness.

Attorney Hrassr: Sergeant, I have here a list of INS studies of companies in New York City which concealed workers' immigrations status. Why are none of them on trial?

ADA Rothschild and Essval, in unison: Objection!

Judge Ressur: Sustained! Again with the other companies? Those companies are not on trial here and I will not warn you again! *Emphatic Cough* The next time you try that tired tactic I'll hold you in contempt! Stick to the facts of this trial, Attorney Hrassr!

Attorney Hrassr (still smug): Sorry, Your Honor. Nothing more.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VI: Verdict


City of New York v. Empire Meats, day 25. Defense is up. A middle-aged woman is on the stand.

Attorney Hrassr: So, Ms. Whitman, please tell the court your occupation and place of work.

Ms. Whitman: I'm a file clerk with the city Records Office, handling mostly old arrest and sentencing records.

Attorney Hrassr: Any files on my clients?

Ms. Whitman: Yes, a couple old priors for misdemeanor ginger possession for Mr. Grissel and several arrests for Mr. Goetz and one conviction.

ADA Essval: Objection, Your Honor, where is this leading?

Attorney Hrassr: Just bear with me, Your Honor.

Judge Ressur: Make it quick, Attorney.

Attorney Hrassr: Thank You, Your Honor. Ms. Whitman, tell me about Mr. Grissel's arrests.

Ms. Whitman: he was arrested for possession of Stolen Goods in 1996, acquitted, Money Laundering and Aiding and Abetting in 1998, acquitted, Money Laundering in 2001, plea bargained to a lower sentence, time served, Possession with Intent in 2007, case dropped for lack of evidence...

Attorney Hrassr: And who was the prosecuting attorney in all these cases?

Ms. Whitman: Current District Attorney Jack McCoy.

Attorney Hrassr: Jack McCoy.

ADA Essval: Objection! Your Honor it's the same tired song-and-dance that his client was singled out!

Judge Ressur: Sustained! Strike all testimony of this witness so far. Attorney Hrassr, I warned you about this. I'm holding you in Contempt. $5,000 fine. I'll double that if you bring up this inadmissible tangent any more! Do you hear me? *Emphatic Cough*

Attorney Hrassr (unfazed): Loud and clear, Superior Female. No more questions, Your Honor.

{Time Skip; Dramatic Music}

Courtroom. The Jury re-enters from deliberation. The Bailiff passes a note over to the Judge, who reads it.

Judge Ressur: Foremale, has the jury reached a verdict? *Interrogative Cough*

Foremale: We have, Your Honor.

Judge Ressur: Will the defendants please rise? *Interrogative Cough* (they do)

Foremale: On the charges of Failure to meet City Health Ordinances we find the Defendants guilty on all counts. On the charges of Willful Hiring of Unauthorized Workers we also find the Defendants guilty. On the charges of Falsifying Identity of Employees we find the Defendants guilty.

{Dun-Dun}

DA McCoy's office. McCoy sits on his desk. ADAs Essval and Rothschild sit at chairs.

ADA Essval (sipping coffee): You know, with enough salt coffee's not so bad.

ADA Rothschild: Careful with that stuff, hon., you'll become an addict like me.

DA McCoy: Again, good job on the Empire case. Goetz and Grissel got five months a pop plus enough fines to kill Empire Meats for good.

ADA Rothschild: Plus they'll never get a license to sell foodstuffs again.

ADA Essval: Best yet, the Fed finally outlawed Azwaca Gland Distillate as a Class A narcotic.

DA McCoy: Finally. Our system moves at the speed of a glacier some times. Luckily, it usually runs with the persistence of one, too.

ADA Rothschild: Yea, now we just have to deal with the continued illegal manufacture and sales.

ADA Essval: You know, Jack, I hardly feel like celebrating. This wasn't a case, it was a steamroll. It's like their attorney was hardly trying!

ADA Rothschild: Well, Hrassr is mostly an ambulance chaser and petty crimes guy...maybe he was out of his league.

ADA Essval: I almost have to admire his ill-founded persistence on that dead line of defense. He hardly seemed bothered by the continual rejection of his strategy, even when Judge Ressur handed him a $5,000 fine. It's almost like he wanted to lose this case!

DA McCoy: I know. That's what keeps nagging me about this whole thing. I keep wondering what he's up to.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VII: the Summoner Summoned


Six months later.

{Dun-Dun}

DA McCoy's office. He's at the conference table with ADA Essval and Capt. Van Buren looking over some papers.

Capt. Van Buren: And as you can see, arrests for Wac have doubled, but there's only a marginal drop in use. Now that the gangs have found it and added it to their list of cash makers it's entrenched in the business and culture.

DA McCoy: And it looks like El Lagarto is at the forefront.

Capt. Van Buren: It's impossible to know for certain, but there's circumstantial evidence that they're getting the product from outside the country, possibly from Race territory.

ADA Essval: There might be a bit of tit-for-tat here, repayment in kind for Ginger.

DA McCoy: Or "unkind". I'll talk to the State Department. The Empire might be taking a cue from their play book.

There's a knock at the door. Attorney Hrassr walks in, looking smug.

Attorney Hrassr: Good morning, Males and Females.

DA McCoy: Good morning, Attorney. To what do I own this visit?

Attorney Hrassr (handing DA McCoy a blue slip of paper): Why I come bearing gifts!

DA McCoy (opening the paper): A court summons!

ADA Essval (looking over at paper with an eye turret): Civil court...you're suing? *Interrogative Cough*

Attorney Hrassr: Yes, Honorable Female, my clients Citizens Grissel and Goetz are suing the City for descrimination and vindictive prosecution. Of all the meat industry companies in the five boroughs theirs alone was singled out for harassment and prosecution despite so many other companies who have gone unprosecuted for similar and greater offenses. My clients spent the last months in prison and saw their company and hard-earned reputations shattered while their competition continues to commit the offenses the same sort that warranted my client's sentencing.

DA McCoy: Ten million dollars?! That's ludicrous!

Attorney Hrassr: I'd say that's Just Compensation.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part VIII: Jack in The Box


New York State Supreme Court, Centre St.

{Dun-Dun}

NY Supreme Court room, dark paneling and paintings. A full jury, 7 Humans, 5 Race. The Bailiff announces the Judge.

Bailiff: All rise, Docket number 55703, Grissel and Goetz versus the City of New York, the honorable Judge Nelsen Craig presiding.

Judge Craig: Thank you, Bailiff, males and females of the Jury, Attorney Hrassr, you may begin.

Attorney Hrassr: Males and females of the jury, I have a confession: my clients are not innocent lambs. They have made mistakes in their life, lapses of judgment and acts of desperation they regret and had moved beyond. They had built a new life, a legal life. They made a couple hard decisions to keep this life they built, ones also made by a majority of their peers in the meat industry. But in the end, they were turning their lives around. But this did not satisfy everyone. Oh no *Emphatic Cough*! Some people can't forget the past. Some people can't look past earlier mistakes. Some would single out a citizen for a past transgression and obsessively, maliciously...vindictively pursue a person on anything they could get them on. The word here is "Vindictive"...as a legal term it means being singled out, discriminated against due to the personal bias or enmity of the legal authority, in this case District Attorney Jack McCoy himself. Females and males of the jury, we will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mr. McCoy harbored a lingering dislike for my clients, considered them "criminals" and "lowlifes", thought them "amoral" and "irredeemable". And we will show how Mr. McCoy used his office to persecute my clients, singling them out for minor offenses and sending them to prison on the very cusp of redemption, offenses we will show are common in the industry, offenses none of my clients' peers faced arrest for, because, females and males, he harbors an old, discriminatory, vindictive grudge against my clients. And in the end you will see why my clients deserve vindication from this vindictive vendetta. Why they deserve compensation for their trauma. Why they deserve a fresh start, free of vindictive prosecutors and their preconceived bias. And in the end, I know you will make the right decision and make a stand for those who seek nothing more than a chance to start anew. Thank you.

Judge Craig: Your witness, Ms. Rothschild.

ADA Rothschild: Females and Males of the jury. {Dramatic Pause} Wow. That was quite the heart-wrenching story the Plaintiffs' lawyer made. Two poor misguided lambs trying to redeem themselves only to face the cruel tyranny of a vengeful government official. Wow. The stuff of a movie there! But males and females of the jury, does this Hollywood-like story of little guys facing the government machine stand up in reality? You will find it does not. These are not innocent males attempting redemption, but two lawfully convicted offenders with continued ties to organized crime and a rap sheet for which they harbor no regret. These are not victims of the system, singled out, but two convicts hoping to milk the system and your sympathy to siphon your tax dollars into their own pockets. These are males who were attempting to reestablish their careers in the drug trade, taking advantage of a loophole in the drug laws to build their empire. These are males who committed several offenses against health and safety, who exploited hapless workers, who forced employees to assume false identities so that they could continue to exploit their immigration status in order to pay them less, and in order to make sure they couldn't complain about their dangerous, unsanitary working conditions. These are males whose unsanitary practices produced a product that endangered its consumers, endangered innocent citizens who expect the food they buy to be healthy and free of disease. That they were the first - the first undoubtedly of many - who were legally held responsible for such victimizing crimes should not be mistaken for bias. That they cultivated an appearance of legality should not be confused with actual legality. Do not let their attorney's razzle-dazzle and fast-talk bamboozle you into believing anything beyond the simple, undeniable fact that these males were lawfully, legally, and indiscriminately convicted for their crimes. And when you see this you will realize how frivolous this lawsuit is, how your tax dollars are being wasted in a bald-faced money-grab. If the plaintiffs really wish to start anew, well, they were granted that chance when the City of New York saw fit to release them from their lawful incarceration. Instead, they took the opportunity to try and bilk your tax dollars from the city...a get rich quick scheme where all the city is their unwitting victim. Including you, females and males of the jury.

[Geekhis Khan]

Part IX: The Trial


Superior Court, day 5. Ms. Whitman from the Records Department, the earlier disallowed defense witness from the criminal trial, is on the stand.

Attorney Hrassr: So, Ms. Whitman, please tell the court about the official city files on my clients.

Ms. Whitman: Well, Mr. Grissel has a couple old priors for misdemeanor ginger possession and Mr. Goetz has several arrests and one conviction. He was arrested for possession of Stolen Goods in 1996 and acquitted, for Money Laundering and Aiding and Abetting in 1998, acquitted, Money Laundering again in 2001, plea bargained to a lower sentence, time served, Possession with Intent in 2007, case dropped for lack of evidence...

Attorney Hrassr: And please do tell the court who the prosecuting attorney was in all these cases.

Ms. Whitman: Current District Attorney Jack McCoy.

Attorney Hrassr: Jack McCoy. Then Assistant DA McCoy, again and again attempting to send my client to prison, again and again falling flat. Only once a plea. Isn't that an interesting pattern? A pattern of obsession, perhaps? *Interrogative Cough*

ADA Essval: Objection, leading the witness.

Judge Craig: Sustained. The jury is instructed to ignore the last two statements.

Attorney Hrassr: Ms. Whitman, did the records record any interactions between Jack McCoy and Mr. Goetz? *Interrogative Cough*

Ms. Whitman: No, but there's an email from Mr. McCoy to then DA Aurthur Branch saying Mr. Goetz "is a criminal, a criminal who continues to flaunt the law. I'll make sure he ends up behind bars, sir, I swear it."

Attorney Hrassr: Your Honor, Defense A, the email transcript. (Turns to Ms. Whitman) That is all, thank you, Ms. Whitman.

Judge Craig: Your witness, defense.

ADA Essval: Ms. Whitman, who was the arresting officer for Mr. Grissel's prior arrests? *Interrogative Cough*

Ms. Whitman: Well, it varied. Typically a uniformed officer on the scene.

ADA Essval: Were any of the officers under direction from Mr. McCoy to arrest, track, or otherwise "get" Mr. Goetz?

Ms. Whitman: There's nothing in the records to indicate he did or didn't have the officers arrest or approach Mr. Goetz.

ADA Essval: And as Executive District Attorney what was Mr. McCoy's job at the time? *Interrogative Cough*

Ms. Whitman: Well, I'm not an expert but isn't it to prosecute accused offenders for the city?

ADA Essval: As a female in that job right now I can assure you yes, we prosecute those that the NYPD have arrested with evidence they provide from the associated investigation. In other words Jack McCoy prosecuted the cases he was handed, and as Executive DA he was automatically assigned his cases and had no control over who he was assigned.

{Dramatic pause}

ADA Essval: What about the email, did Mr. McCoy single out Mr. Goetz alone in that email? *Interrogative Cough*

Ms. Whitman: No, actually. He's one of three resent dropped cases mentioned in the email.

ADA Essval: And did any similar emails appear in your records? *Interrogative Cough*

Ms. Whitman: I didn't really check...

ADA Essval: Don't worry, I already did. Your Honor, Defense A: a stack of twenty emails of the sort Attorney Hrassr submitted, quarterly reports on lost cases as standard procedure. I'll read a few lines: "Mr. Roger showed an utter contempt for the courtroom and for myself. I'm sure he's guilty. I want him behind bars." "David ben Zadok is a ruthless killer. I will see him imprisoned for his crimes." "Gruurl is a menace and a murderer who should pay for his crimes." In this last case Gruurl has lived in Queens with no other arrests, and the murder he was accused for was prosecuted with a new accused following new evidence. The new accused was convicted and is in prison. Mr. McCoy personally wrote Gruurl a letter of apology. Males and females of the jury, Mr. McCoy hardly singled out Mr. Goetz for some obsessive prosecution, and never treated him any different than any other Defendant. Just because he has a way with words shouldn't lead you to believe there's malice aforethought. *Emphatic Cough*

[Geekhis Khan]

Part X: the Color of the Law


DA's office. Late night. ADA Rothschild is staring at a computer screen. Her eyes drift closed only to shoot open again after a second. They drift closed again, stay closed for a couple seconds, then jerk open again.

ADA Rothschild (shaking her head and stretching): Time for the Cup of Life. (Gets up, grabs a mug, and walks out the door)

{Scene Jump}

ADA Rothschild walks into a conference room to the coffee pot. It's still brewing. ADA Essval is at the table, papers splayed out across it. Her eye turrets dart around wildly between various papers and her legal pad. Her hand jots notes at a manic pace.

ADA Rothschild (cursing at the coffee pot): We're up to the third pot already, hon?

ADA Essval (speech clipped and rushed): Fourth. Had to have a second cup. Caffeine good, but not Qwerg.

ADA Rothschild (laughing): Whoa, slow down, sis. That pad is going to combust from the friction. Find anything?

ADA Essval: Still searching emails. No records of contact between Jack and any arresting officers regarding Goetz ahead of time. There were a couple emails, but none showing Jack ordered any Goetz arrests. Still may try to suggest there was contact, but no one can prove he did or didn't do so. Down to jury's beliefs. Impossible to predict. Another cup when you can, sis? What have you found?

ADA Rothschild: I'd say you've had enough and I've found some circumstantial and inadmissible links between Goetz and Lagarto. Coffee will be a while, hon. I'll go check on Jack.

Camera follows her down hall to DA McCoy's office. Inside he's staring out the window, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

ADA Rothschild: Um...Jack?

{Beat}

DA McCoy: They're investigating me. The bastards are investigating me.

ADA Rothschild: Investigating? Who? Internal Affairs?

DA McCoy (turning around, tie undone, bags under eyes): The Feds. FBI. I got a call from an old friend who's in the Bureau. They're taking the Goetz case seriously, looking at me for a Color of Law violation against Goetz. (Takes a long sip from the whiskey) Damn it all! The damn mayor and his stupid raid! Now I need to either take the fall for him or throw him under the bus! If I do the former I may go to jail. If I do the latter my political career in this city is over.

There's a moment of silence. ADA Rothschild fights for something to say, then appears to give up. DA McCoy turns back around, staring back out the window to the NYC night skyline.

ADA Rothschild hesitates a moment and briskly walks out.

{Scene Jump}

Back in the conference room ADA Essval is pouring coffee. The new pot is half gone already. ADA Essval sips her coffee while her other eye turret looks down at Rothschild's cup and pours some for her.

ADA Rothschild (momentarily confused at the scene): Um...Essval. It's Jack. He's being investigated by the FBI for Color of Law.

ADA Essval (nearly choking on the coffee): What? *Emphatic Cough*

ADA Rothschild: He got a tip. The mayor's going to let him take the rap too, unless I miss my guess. Hon, we'd best get another pot going. We need to break this lawsuit or Jack's up the creek.

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XI: Law and Politics


Courtroom. Attorney Hrassr has INS Agent Najmy on the stand.

Attorney Hrassr: So, Randal Meats, Hymann's Butchery, and Northern Beef co. all use large numbers of undocumented workers?

Agent Najmy: Yes. I can't go into specifics about how we gathered this data because of our ongoing investigation, but these investigations have shown that all three firms have used undocumented laborers, Human and Race, and have falsified employee records using stolen identities and numbers. It's actually very common in the meat industry across the country.

Attorney Hrassr: And how long have you known of these violations? The ones in New York City, that is?

Agent Najmy: Since December of 2008 in the case of Northern Beef.

Attorney Hrassr: And how many of these have been prosecuted or even investigated by the NYPD?

Agent Najmy: None. None at all. Empire Meats is the only New York meat company to face labor charges in the last two years.

Attorney Hrassr: Thank you, Agent Najmy.

Judge Craig: Your Witness, Defense.

ADA Rothschild (whispering to Essval): I still can't get used to the "D" world. (to the witness) Agent Najmy, you noted that your agency has been stockpiling data on these meat companies for a while. How much of this has your agency passed along to the NYPD?

Agent Najmy: None that I know of.

ADA Rothschild: And how many times has your agency contacted District Attorney Jack McCoy about labor practices at these companies?

Agen Najmy: Nothing official that I'm aware of.

ADA Rothschild: That's all, thank you, Agent Najmy.

Attorney Hrassr: Redirect, Your Honor.

Judge Craig: Go ahead.

Attorney Hrassr: Agent Najmy, how many times has your director met with Jack McCoy in the last two years?

Agent Najmy: I'm not sure.

Attorney Hrassr: I'll save you the time of looking it up: four...four times. Might they have discussed these labor issues at such a meeting...?

ADA Rothschild (interrupting): Objection...speculation..."

Judge Craig: Sustained. Do not answer that question, Mr. Najmy.

Attorney Hrassr: Withdrawn. Nothing more, Your Honor.

Judge Craig: You are dismissed, Agent Najmy. We'll take a short fifteen minute recess... {Fades into background}

ADA Essval (quietly to Rothschild, an eye turret looking at jury): Admissible or not, that one got the attention of more than one of the jurors.

ADA Rothschild (quietly to Essval): And with such a narrow burden of proof in a civil case the little things like that can make all the difference. We need to find a way to break the jury's sympathies with Goetz or... (face furrows with frustration).


{Cut Scene}

Living room of Mayor Carlotta's Hampton's beach house, bay windows overlook the ocean. DA McCoy enters. Mayor Carlotta is at the window with a drink.

Mayor Carlotta: Ah, hello Jack. Care for a drink? It's Laugavulin 25-year.

DA McCoy: No thank you, Frank. I'm sure you know why I'm here.

Mayor Carlotta: The lawsuit.

DA McCoy: Frank, you're killing me here! We only raided that meat store at your personal request, and believe me, I think it was the right thing to do and the DEA has finally agreed...but right now that shyster of a lawyer has got the jury convinced I singled out Empire based on Goetz!

Mayor Carlotta: We did single them out...for drug production.

DA McCoy: What, for performing a technically legal rendering of a byproduct? That'll never stand up. Look, they have me over a barrel here. They have testimonies that several other meat plants have the same labor and health deficiencies as Empire. Apparently it's endemic to the industry! And they're spinning it to look like I singled out Goetz and Empire on a personal grudge! I don't even remember ever talking about Goetz before this!

Mayor Carlotta: Then just raid a few other meat plants.

DA McCoy: After the fact? They'll be dismissed for what they are: a fire drill! We lost any hope of that tactic when the lawsuit got filed!

Mayor Carlotta: Did You do any preliminary work towards such a raid before the lawsuit? Prove your intention to do such a raid without the provocation?

DA McCoy: No! We had actual crimes to prosecute, like the damned Wac outbreak!

{Long, uncomfortable silence}

Mayor Carlotta: I take it there's not written or recorded copy of our conversation about the Empire raid, or I have the feeling it'd be Defense A at this point.

DA McCoy: Frank, et tu? Look: I've played straight with you. Why won't you do the same with me? You're throwing me under the bus here to save your own ass! With your reelection coming up I have to wonder...

Mayor Carlotta (putting down drink): Jack...stop. {pause} Jack, look. You know I can't just walk in and say "I ordered the raid". I never asked you to take the heat for me...

DA McCoy (interrupting): No, you just left me out there to take the rap! Can't you at least see about stopping the damned federal investigation?

Mayor Carlotta (angry): What, use my power and influence to stop an FBI investigation on a political ally? Now who's asking whom to jump under a bus? {pause} Jack, I'm sorry, but you're on your own. I can see if any of my contacts can find dirt on Goetz, but that's all I can do. I have to distance myself from this one, and you know it. You'd do the same in my shoes, and don't you forget it.

DA McCoy: No. No, sir, I would not. I've put my ass on the line for my subordinates in the past and I will continue to do so! *Emphatic Cough*

Mayor Carlotta pauses to reclaim his glass and take a sip.

Mayor Carlotta (looking him directly in the eye): Are you sure about that, Jack? Shall we ask some of your former ADAs?

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XII: Informant


Clinton & Henry. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are on stakeout watching a Race member in El Lagarto colors standing on a street corner. Fitzsimmons has a telephoto camera and is snapping some money-baggie exchanges between the Lagarto and a procession of Humans. A bedraggled-looking man walks up, looking around.

Fitzsimmons: Here's our man.

T'Surlak: Excellent. Make sure you get the image.

Fitzsimmons (clicking camera): Good...good...excellent. That and the tape's all we need.

T'Surlak (grabbing CB): All units move out.

A swarm of armed, uniformed officers rush out from off screen towards the Lagarto and the man.

Officer: Get on the ground, now! Move!

The Lagarto and Human hit the pavement and are handcuffed.

Fitzsimmons: Game, set, match. Let's bring him in.

They open the doors. Camera follows Fitzsimmons to where the Human is being led off by a uniformed officer.

Fitzsimmons: Alright, Officer Gray, I'll take over. (grabs the man's arm and leads him off; camera follows) Mornin', Murphy, how's the family?

Murphy: Growing all the time. Got twins on the way now.

Fitzsimmons: Christ. {beat} Strange seeing an undercover of your experience doing a street deal gig. What's up? Jefferson finally get fed up with your antics?

Murphy: Look who's talking. No, I'm phasing out of undercover. Too dangerous what with the growing family. You think a cop's pension will feed all those mouths? No, I'm taking an El-Tee slot and surfin' a desk.

Fitzsimmons: Murph behind a desk. What's this world coming to?

{Cut Scene}

Station. Interrogation room.

T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons escort the Lagarto (Tissel) into a plastic chair across the table.

T'Surlak: There you go, Tissel, a nice comfy chair.

Fitzsimmons (tossinf an evidence bag on the table): And enough Wac to choke a tsiongi on your person. That makes strike three for you, don't it, Tis?

T'Surlak: Yep. Going away to Rikers for a while on this one. Be glad you're not a Human. You'll be shocked at what Big Uglies do to each other in the joint. You'll likely just end up someone's task boy.

Tissel (visibly upset): Um, look. I'm the little beffel in the pack, right? How about a trade of info?

T'Surlak: You wish to make a deal, then?

Tissel: Yea! You reduce this one and maybe I got something to share, yea? *Interrogative Cough*

Fitzsimmons: How about if you tell us what you got and we'll see if it's worth our time.

T'Surlak: Like maybe who's wholesaling the Wac.

Tissel (both eye turrets nervously jump to T'Surlak): What? *Emphatic Cough* Do I look suicidal? No, I got something else you might like. Something that might pull your boss McCoy out of the mess he's in. But I want to speak to a lawyer first...

{Dun-Dun}

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XIII: Let's Make a Deal


Conference room. ADA Essval joins Dets. Fitzsimmons and T'Surlak across the table from Tissel and a Race member in Attorney's body paint.

T'Surlak: Citizen Tessel, please tell ADA Essval what you told us earlier.

Tissel: Yes, Superior Sir. Superior Female, I was hanging out at the Gecko Lounge, a Lizard joint in Little Home last Thursday night. I was hanging out with a lot of Lizards from the old neighborhood including old Grissel. You know, the Lizard that got busted with that Big Ugly that's suing your boss? *Interrogative Cough*

ADA Essval: Yes, Citizen, please continue.

Tissel: Well, old Grissel has a few too many Vodka and Consumes and he starts hissing about the trial and how he thinks the Big Ugly's going to cheat him out of his share.

ADA Essval: His "share"? *Interrogative Cough* Elaborate, please.

Tissel: Yea, it seems he and the Big Ugly...

ADA Essval: You are referring to Mr. Goetz, I assume? *Interrogative Cough*

Tissel: Yea, Goetz. Anyway, they had a deal. Since only Goetz has a past with McCoy, their attorney...Hrassr is his name, if I remember...they take the fall on the raid and then Goetz sues McCoy and Grissel gets his half of the spoils. Great, yea? *Interrogative Cough* Only Grissel's starting to think Hrassr and Goetz are going to hold out on him. It's all in how they're acting, he says. Then, and get this, he asks if I want to go back into the toilets for a taste. Of Ginger, yea? *Interrogative Cough* I think "sure". I never turn down a free...

Tissel's attorney interrupts him and whispers in his ear.

Tissel: Um, I was saying I kept him company while he had a taste.

ADA Essval: I'm far less concerned about your confessions of ginger use and far more with Grissel. Are you saying he's "off the wagon", as the Tosevites say? *Interrogative Cough*

Tissel: Yea, I'm saying that. Grissel's back on the Spice. Now, you got yours, we got a deal? *Interrogative Cough*

ADA Essval: Yes we do. Third Strike is gone. You're facing simple Possession with Intent, and that's as far as we're going. *Emphatic Cough*

Tissel and his attorney whisper.

Tissel: Fine, deal. *Emphatic Cough*

{Cut Scene}

Later. ADA Essval is alone with Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons.

ADA Essval: Well, we can't use it in the trial. Straight hearsay.

Det. Fitzsimmons: But what we do have is probable cause to arrest Grissel on ginger charges and squeeze him for all he's worth.

Det. T'Surlak: Knowing Grissel he'll be more than happy to wear a wire while talking to his old pals.

ADA Essval: Yes. *Emphatic Cough* But don't single him out or we're back in color of law turf. Track him, find where he hangs out, get an undercover in there if you can, and bring him in with the rest of the Lizards. *Emphatic Cough*

Det. Fitzsimmons: It shall be done, Superior Female. *Emphatic Cough*

[Geekhis Khan]

Part XIV: Turncoat


Gecko Lounge. Neon lights and a eclectic decor, Home mixed with Casablanca with a hint of Jamaica. Dance-hall remix of traditional Home music blasts from loudspeakers.

Camera pans back through the crowd (mostly Race), following a Female in a red leather mini-dress and bright red Tina Turner style wig as she's let through a plain back door by a large human guard. Inside a whole group of Males is sitting around on couches while licks of ginger are being distributed. Among them is Grissel.

Grissel (in Race): <Alright, Males, here she is! *Emphatic Cough* And she'll do anything for...and after...a Taste.>

Delighted, excited hisses erupt from the crowd. Grissel takes a Taste of Ginger and then walks up to the Female, a palm full of Ginger held out to her. As he walks up she suddenly grabs his wrist and pulls him to the ground in a wrist-throw.

Female: Freeze! NYPD! *Emphatic Cough*

The door busts open and in storm several uniformed officers. The Female pulls handcuffs from the leather dress and cuffs Grissel.

Female: You're under arrest for possession and use of a narcotic and soliciting ginger prostitution. You have the right to remain silent... {Fade Out}


Precinct interrogation room. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons sit across from Grissel.

Fitzsimmons: You know, Grissel, as much as we love your patronage of out establishment I imagine you'd just as soon find different accommodations.

T'Surlak: Yea, we have a lovely 8-by-9 with a courtyard view. And between the possession and pimping that's plenty of bonus points to your prefered customer card. Call it a few hundred bonus nights.

Grissel (showing obvious signs of early-stage ginger withdrawal): Look, just get me a court lawyer and lets get this over with, okay? *Emphatic Cough*

T'Surlak: Not a problem. We're here to assist.

{Cut Scene}

Grissel and a human lawyer sit across the table from ADAs Essval and Rothschild.

Grissel: What, I don't even warrant Jack anymore? *Interrogative Cough* How the mighty have fallen.

Essval: We're more than happy not to bother Jack at the moment as he's busy enough already.

Grissel: Shame. *Emphatic Cough* 'Cause I got something he might like to hear.

[Geekhis Khan]

Conclusion: End of an Era


Supreme Courtroom. Goetz v. McCoy.

ADA Essval is up, Grissel is on the stand.

Grissel: So we'd just walked on bond. I'm shaking 'cause I'd never really faced serious jail time, but Stan...Mr. Goetz...he's calm as a ginger head after a taste.

Essval: Go on.

Grissel: And that's when he says to me, 'bud, I think we got a real opportunity in this.' I ask what he means and he says 'I got busted by that DA McCoy a few times in the past before he was the DA. Now we know they raided us 'cause of the Wac, but since they're gettin' us on health and INS crap and no one else when you know them other meat places ain't no better, well, we can take the fall on the criminal charge, serve a few months, then spin this into a harassment case and walk away millionaires!

Goetz (standing up): Liar! You goddamned lying Lizard!

Judge (banging gavel): Order! Attorney Hrassr, control your client! Order!

{Cut Scene}

Outside the court room. McCoy and the ADAs are walking through a gauntlet of press.

Reporter 1: DA McCoy! Congratulations on your victory in the civil case! Do you think Grissel's testimony sealed it for you?

McCoy: I think the inherent frivolity and greed of the lawsuit is what 'sealed it'. The jury simply saw through their razzle-dazzle.

Reporter 2: Is it true that the mayor ordered the raid? Were you covering up for Mayor Carlotta?

McCoy: Mayor Carlotta was not involved with this case.

Reporter 3: How do you think this will affect your upcoming reelection campaign?

McCoy: Less than you think.

{Cut Scene}


DA McCoy's office. McCoy is with Essval and Rothschild. The Scotch is out.

McCoy: Case dismissed. Son of a bitch.

Rothschild: Yea, even when Hrassr tried to spin Grissel's testimony as quid pro quo over the ginger charge...

McCoy: Which is was, not that I think he was lying.

Rothschild: ...well, the jury must have suspected anyway.

Essval: Plus the fact that the order for the raid came from the mayor's office made it hard to pin on you.

McCoy: Yea. (Pauses for a long drink) My contact in the FBI called. It seems the Color of Law investigation is shifting towards Mayor Carlotta now. He'll take the fall for this one.

Essval: I still think you'll need to be careful to distance yourself from this come election time...

McCoy: There won't be an election time. I'm not running again next year. I'm retiring from public life.

Essval: What? *Interrogative Cough*

Rothschild: Whoa, hold on. Is the party pushing you out? Because I'm not going to let those jackals make an examp...

McCoy (cutting her off): No, no the decision was mine. The party wants me to run. In fact, they want me to run for mayor! Carlotta's the one they're cutting off. No. I'm done. For close to three decades I've served this city. I've never cared for anything but justice. And honestly, I've bent, stretched, and flat-out ignored so many laws and ethical rules to see justice done that when I look back at it all I wonder if I was really serving justice, or just my own ego. (takes a drink) And now I see you, my own assistants, doing the same things. Don't think for a second I don't know you guys set up that raid with the full intention of snagging Grissel. Hell, I'm in some ways proud. Following right in my footsteps all the way! (drinks; empties glass) No...it's over. The tricks, the games, the reshaping of the truth...I can't go on. And I can't compromise my remaining ethical standards to play the games the party wants just to see my name on a goddamn plaque at city hall. I'm an old man, ladies. And it's time to step aside for the next generation like my mentors did for me.

Pauses to refill the scotch, stares contemplatively out the window over the city he's served so many years.

McCoy (turning back to the ADAs): And I sincerely hope that my successors learn to love justice as I have...enough to treat her with more respect than I ever did.

{Fade to Black}

A Geek Wolf Production.

[Geekhis Khan]

Comments:

Okay, all, that's caught up to the original discussion sheet. More to come there!

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