“Uh?” He looked up to see Connie, arms crossed, standing in front of his desk.
“Did you see the Ledger today?” she asked, indicating the tabloid in front of him.
“I try not to read garbage when I can help it,” he said. “Why? Is Jack on Page Six?”
Connie sighed. “No, but the Grayson trial is on the cover.” She picked up the paper and read the boldfaced headline aloud. “Pity the Party Girl: Socialite Mindy Grayson Kills in Self-Defense. Lawyers allege ‘he had it coming.”
The EADA still looked skeptical. “Connie, lots of trials play out in the court of public opinion. The only court I’m concerned about is the legal one. The jurors—”
“The jurors read this stuff, Mike,” Connie interjected. “We’re already having a hard enough time as it is with Jurors Five and Nine. They were nodding along with the defense’s cross-examination yesterday.”
At that, Mike frowned slightly, tapping his thumbs together with a bit of nervous energy. “It’s not over till it’s over,” he said, glancing up at her. “We still have a few more witnesses.” He paused. “…what does the rest of the article say?”
Connie opened the tabloid to the appropriate page. “ ‘Cocksure executive ADA Mike Cutter is not fazed by inaccurate representations by the media,” she pretended to read.
He smirked at her. “That’s not news.”
She grinned back and then started actually reading the article aloud – a largely sympathetic diatribe on celebrity downfalls that gave Mindy Grayson every excuse in the book and put the blame on the victim. Finally, she got to their meager coverage of the prosecution. “Occasionally controversial Executive ADA Michael Cutter—”
“Only occasionally?” Cutter smarted. “I think I’ll have to point that out to Jack next time he tells me I’m going off the reservation.”
Connie grinned and continued. “--has been relentless in his zealous persecution—” “Persecution? I think they meant prosecution.” Cutter rolled his eyes.
“I think they don’t know the difference,” Connie said, then went on. “Cutter, a perennial favorite of D.A. Jack McCoy-”
“Can I put that on my C.V.?” He feigned seriousness.
She was already reading the rest of the sentence to herself and was trying to maintain her composure.
“…what does the rest of it say?” Cutter was almost afraid to ask.
“—is fast—” She stopped to stifle a laugh, then read quickly, “—Cutter, a perennial favorite of D.A. Jack McCoy, is fast becoming thebadboyoftheDA’soffice.”
“The what?”
She didn’t answer, only covered her mouth with a hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“Let me see that,” he reached for the paper, looking a bit indignant.
“Oh, come on,” Connie said, teasing. “You said it was garbage.”
Before he could say or do anything else, there was a knock on the doorframe of his office. Both attorneys looked up. It was Lupo and Bernard.
“Can I help you?” Cutter asked.
“Yeah, we were looking for the bad boy of the DA’s office,” Bernard said with a completely straight face.
“We heard they mistakenly thought it was you,” Lupo coughed.
Mike looked up at Connie a bit helplessly. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
“…not if we can help it,” Bernard muttered.
Connie gave Mike a sympathetic smile. “…at least you weren’t in the Fashion Faux Pas section?”
Word count: 567
“Yes?” she asked.
“Problem?” He stepped into her workspace and was in front of her desk in a couple of strides.
“Not a big one,” Connie said.
“Even so, it looks frustrating,” the EADA finished.
“Just trying to finish my prep work for tomorrow’s cross.” She turned away from her computer to face him fully. “I know what I should be saying…it’s just a matter of getting it out there.”
He nodded, leaning in a little toward her. “You should take a break. Clear your head.”
“I was hoping to get done with it before six,” Connie checked the time on her BlackBerry, “so we could go to dinner without having to worry about work for once.”
“In that case…” Mike got up. “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
Connie raised a brow and watched him as he hurried to his office. A minute later, he returned, holding a smallish rectangular box.
“I was going to wait till we were at dinner,” he said, sitting back down. “But it looks like you could use it now.” Mike pushed the box toward her.
“…okay,” Connie couldn’t help but smile, her curiosity evident, as she opened the box. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a wooden kaleidoscope that had a delicate cherry blossom branch carved into it. She picked it up. “Is this—” She held the kaleidoscope up to her eye and looked into it, turning the bottom as she did so. As the room turned into a myriad of colored shapes, Connie’s grin grew wider.
As he watched her, Mike smiled too, glad to see her relax.
“You got me a kaleidoscope,” Connie said when she finally put the toy down, still smiling.
“I did.” He kept his eyes on her.
She looked back at him, gaze softening. “Thanks.” Her voice was quieter.
“I should thank you, too,” he said.
Connie gave him another quizzical look.
Mike looked at the kaleidoscope and then back at her. “Sometimes…it helps to see the world from a different perspective…”
Word count: 417
Unfortunately for them, while it’s great that they’ve found personal redemption, that has little to do with the law. A murderer is still a murderer – and must pay for what he’s done – regardless of how sorry he is. There’s still a dead person, a grieving family, a void in society. You only get points for good behavior once you’re already in prison – once a sentence has been meted according to the law. Even then, good behavior doesn’t always mean someone is suddenly ‘good’ or even repentant or that they won’t be a repeat offender. It’s why prosecutors make a point of going to parole hearings for serious offenders, making sure we voice our opinions that to put certain people back on the streets would be a mistake.
Word Count: 182
“…I really can’t be part of your law firm?” Mike Cutter asked as he sat across from Connie Rubirosa at the diner they tended to frequent near the courthouse.
Connie looked up from the menu with a grin. “Hypothetical law firm and no.”
“Why not?” Mike asked, looking slightly anxious.
“You heard Jack,” Connie laughed, amused that it was bothering him this much. “Someone’s gotta make sure the DA’s office won’t go to hell.”
“But why me?” Mike wanted to know.
Before Connie could answer, the lawyers were joined by Cyrus Lupo and Kevin Bernard, who strolled up to the table uninvited.
“Who’s leaving the D.A.’s office?” Lupo wanted to know.
“No one,” Connie and Mike said at the same time.
Both detectives glanced at them questioningly.
“Connie says she’s leaving the D.A.’s office and starting her own private practice if Jack’s not elected,” Mike informed them.
“And…Jack jokingly said that he’d go with me if I did,” Connie finished, with a smirk. “Rubirosa & McCoy: Attorneys at Law.”
“How’d you get top billing?” Lupo asked with a laugh.
Connie shrugged, smiling. “I called it.”
“Lupes could be one of your paralegals,” Bernard said as he sat down next to Cutter. “You mind?” he asked, before sitting down anyway.
Cutter made a ‘what choice do I have?’ face and scooted over.
“I’d hire Lupo,” Connie said, enjoying the hypothetical talk and the faces Mike was making.
“Wait—you’d hire him and not me??” Mike’s eyes widened a bit.
“You’re a liability,” Connie managed a straight face as she said it.
“But—I pay off!” Mike exclaimed.
Lupo raised a brow, looking down at Bernard from where he stood.
Bernard only shrugged and snagged Cutter’s menu.
“Can I--?” Lupo motioned to where Connie was sitting.
“Oh, sure,” she said, and moved over as well.
“You have to gamble a bit to win, you know,” Cutter was saying to no one in particular. His BlackBerry buzzed a moment later and he leaned as close as he could to the window in order to talk with some amount of ‘privacy.’
“…so, why won’t you let him in your pretend law firm?” Lupo asked Connie as that was going on.
Connie didn’t hide the mirth in her eyes. “…because it’s fun to watch him get in a snit about it?”
Word Count: 387
The Hartwig trial was over and for once, the case itself had been secondary to the problems going on at Hogan Place.. The presiding judge, Reynolds, had been the cause of the District Attorney’s headaches for the last couple of weeks. Well, he and his law clerk, a take-charge woman named Carly, who Mike Cutter knew from work they’d both done in Brooklyn. It turned out that Reynolds suffered from senile dementia and his law clerk took it upon herself to help him cover it up. It was discovered that she made all rulings for him through notes she sent him via computer messages during court. The fact that Cutter knew the woman before this only magnified the mess.
( Read more... )
Word count: 775
He’d been standing there at the urinal literally minding his own business when Marty Winston burst into the men’s room brandishing a gun. In those split seconds, Mike Cutter could honestly say he’d never been more scared in his life. He remained calm, at least outwardly. He listened to Winston’s words, tried to calculate how best to handle the situation. Before he had time to think any further, the cops ran into the room, tackling Winston, tearing the gun from his hand just in time.
( Read more... )
Word Count: 773
“You sure you’re all right?” It was a silly question, but she felt she had to ask it anyway. Connie Rubirosa bit her lip as she looked over to the man staring out the apartment window.
“I am,” Michael Cutter said. He paused, his brow furrowing very slightly. “I will be.”
“The most we can do is our job,” Connie said softly. “We can toe the line all we want but at the end of the day, we’re stuck in the confines of the law. It’s no one’s fault.” She moved to where he was standing and placed a hand on his arm carefully. “If we didn’t have confines…there’d be no law to uphold.”
( Read more... )
But Mike Cutter wasn’t most lawyers. He didn’t just finish up a case and then forget about it. He retained information – not just on his BlackBerry, either. He was quick and learned from his mistakes, an advantage that helped get him to where he was now as EADA. It’s why he kept mementos around his office – reminders of what he’d learned. Connie called them his ‘eclectic décor’ and Jack said his office resembled an evidence locker, but to him, the items were significant.
There was the rock from the Fisher trial – a reminder that even slam-dunk cases could take you by surprise. He wasn’t one to rest on proverbial laurels, and having the rock there reminded him constantly that even when you think your work is done, even when you think a case is in the bag, there’s always the unexpected.
Evidence canisters, scale stair models – each of the items had a purpose. It was like the way he swung his lucky Louisville Slugger or tossed around a baseball, Rawlings mitt in hand – those things helped him think, helped him focus. Even if his colleagues didn’t always understand the meaning behind the objects, he did and that’s what was important.
Word Count: 234
Despite his bad luck so far, Cutter decided to give it one last try. Taking a breath, he dialed Rubirosa’s number once again.
“Rubirosa,” Connie answered, mirth in her voice. “Warrants issued, motions filed, bosses stressed out.”
“Very funny.” Even though his tone was dry, he couldn’t help the smallest of smirks.
“You all right up in Otsego County?” Connie asked, her voice still light. “It sounded like you were being driven insane.”
“The madness had nothing to do with being upstate,” Mike retorted. “It had to do with our pals the NYPD.”
Now Connie outright laughed. “Poor you. Being forced to share a hotel room with Lupo, a car with Bernard.” The image of him at the mercy of Bernard’s driving was still one that brought forth a giggle.
“I could’ve been killed,” he protested.
“By what – Bernard’s driving or Lupo’s…chili?” she wanted to know.
“—both!”
That reply set Connie off even more. “You know, I’m glad you called. I needed a laugh.” She paused. “Why were you calling again?”
The EADA cleared his throat. “Actually, I was calling to make sure you were all right.”
“Me?” On the other end, Connie raised her brows.
“Yes, you,” Mike nodded, though she couldn’t see. “After being jostled by the Keystone Cops and all.”
“Oh, that,” she said.
“Yes, that.” He paused. “I mean—are you—all right?”
“I’m fine,” Connie said. “I was pretty pissed right after the fact.” She let out an annoyed grunt. “Still am, actually.” She snorted. “What, did you think I was going damsel-in-distress about it?”
He was silent.
“I thought you knew me better than that,” she told him.
“…it’s not that I don’t think you can take care of yourself…” he said.
“…it’s that you wanted to do the rescuing?”
Again, there was a moment of silence on his end. And then – “…well, yeah.”
Connie gave a soft chuckle. “Next time there’s a dragon trying to kill me, you’ll be the first one I call.”
“Mike Cutter, knight in shining armor,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “At your service.”
Word count: 346
“It wasn’t supposed to end like that,” Kevin Bernard didn’t bother looking up from the linoleum floor that he’d been focusing on since he and his partner had made their way out of the court room.
Before Cyrus Lupo could reply, Michael Cutter and Connie Rubirosa approached them. “No, no it wasn’t,” Cutter said, his voice equally disappointed.
( Read more... )
Word Count: 397
After all the work talk, Cyrus Lupo settled back onto his hotel bed, still in his work clothes, to watch SportsCenter, which his impromptu roommate had been intermittently switching back and forth with the news. As he rested against the pillow, he felt a sudden queasiness in his stomach. …maybe Bernard had been right about the chili. A second later, he dashed for the bathroom with a small groan.
A lot of flushing later, Cyrus came out of the bathroom, holding his stomach.
On his own bed, stripped down to his undershirt and dress slacks, Michael Cutter didn’t even glance up from his BlackBerry. He flipped through the address book, settling on Connie Rubirosa’s cell phone number. He hadn’t really gotten to talk to her since she’d called to tell him that Lupo was being arrested and that the Otsego cops pushed her around. His jaw tensed at being reminded of the situation. As he was about to hit “call”, he remembered Lupo’s presence and paused. There was no balcony in the cheap place they were staying at. He thought a moment and realized he may as well just take the phone into the bathroom and talk quietly.
That in mind, Mike got up from his bed and went for the bathroom.
“You might not wanna…” Lupo mumbled. ( Read more... )
Word Count: 800
Michael Cutter didn’t think he’d ever been in a car traveling this fast in his life. He was pretty sure, actually, that you were only supposed to go this fast on a NASCAR racecourse.
“Detective, do you really think this amount of speed is necessary?” he asked Kevin Bernard, while tightening his seatbelt.
“Only one person is entitled to arrest my partner,” Bernard shot back. “And that’s me.”
“…right,” Cutter said, looking out the window. The scenery was a blur. That, and the other man’s words, did not inspire much confidence.
“Who the hell do they think they are up in Otsego County, anyway?” Bernard asked as he pushed down on the gas pedal.
“Law enforcement who are above the law, apparently,” Mike muttered. At the moment, he was more concerned with the fact that a sharp turn was coming up ahead.
Kevin, on the other hand, wasn’t fazed. “Uh-uh,” he shook his head as he took the turn, a little harder than intended, sending Cutter grabbing for the handle above the window on the passenger’s side.
“Hey!” Cutter exclaimed. “Slow down, will you?”
“The faster we get there, the faster we get all the crap cleared up,” Bernard said. “And Lupo out of jail.”
“If we make it there alive,” Mike retorted.
Just then, the sound of sirens made Bernard slow down. “That ain’t good.”
As the detective pulled the sedan over, the EADA couldn’t help but comment, “You ever hear the story of the tortoise and the hare?”
Word Count: 250
“You’re not the only one who’s disgusted, you know.”
Connie Rubirosa stood at the door to Michael Cutter’s office, leaning against it, arms crossed.
Cutter finished swinging the Louisville Slugger, then held it in a hand, looking at it a moment before glancing over at the ADA. “Oh?” It was a non-committal, even-toned response.
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Word Count: 770
Scaring someone is easy. It’s not a matter of shouting “boo” from around a corner as someone walks by. If you really want to scare someone, you take their deep-rooted fears and bring them to light. Politicians do it all the time – if they can get you afraid of the other candidate or the other result, you’ll vote against that and for them.
Word count: 373
I’m not big on politics. It’s the side of my job as EADA that I’d rather not deal with. I do, when I have to, but unlike the District Attorney, I’m not inclined to make decisions based on what an electorate thinks. It pisses McCoy off royally sometimes, but I do have the luxury of not taking into consideration an election bid when I make choices as a prosecutor. I answer to victims and their families, to the law, not to the guys up in
word count: 156
The Executive Assistant District Attorney was having one of those days – a slam dunk case just became complicated, he was going to miss the Yankees game that night and when he got ready to sit down in the bathroom stall of the men’s restroom, his BlackBerry fell out of his pants pocket and into the toilet.
Word count, excluding lyrics: 1448
As a prosecutor, happy endings are rare, unless you count a simple “win” as such. In theory, a happy ending should mean that someone is doing time for the crime they committed. More importantly, it means that there is justice for the victim, whether dead or alive. Sure, we could put a guy away but it’s hardly justice if it’s five-to-ten for a murder.
[word count: 204]
“Here’s the Rosen file,” Connie Rubirosa held out a folder to her boss, who was deeply occupied with his Blackberry.
“Hold on,” Michael Cutter didn’t look up. “I’m checking the Olympics.”
Connie rolled her eyes. “Right.”
Connie laughed. “High jump? Oh come on. ‘Put me in, Coach. I’m ready to play’. Centerfield is so you.”
[word count: 255]
