Turn the Page
By Jamie Ross
Damn you, Jack McCoy. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here, testifying before the Disciplinary Committee. What do I say? That you were insane with grief over the death of your lover, and that you tried to take it out on the poor schnook who plowed down that old man and that family?
I know you what you’d like to do to the man who killed her, Jack. A few years in minimum security seems to be a small price to pay for taking a life. But he didn’t deserve Murder One, any more than this guy did. And it wasn’t your fault. Not your fault she died, Jack. I’d like to think that her memory brought you back from the brink. Made you change your cross-examination and expose the truth, despite Judge Thayer.
Thayer’s really the reason you’re here in the first place, you know. He hates Adam Schiff and wants the DA’s position for himself. Too bad he won’t get it. And he won’t have your career, either, not if I can help it.
Remember, Jack, I was a defense attorney before I came to Hogan Place. I know how to say things to help my client. I know what is in the bounds of the law, what isn’t. And you did stay within the bounds of the law. Sure, you were tempted, but you came through in the end. Champion of truth. And the bad guy got what he deserved, and no more.
No more of this, now. I go in, take the oath, and face them with the facts. I hope they’ll be pragmatic. There really is nothing else to do-the trial came out all right, and what you did with that witness is open to more than one interpretation. I’m glad you’re not here now. I don’t know if I could face you, because I know no words of comfort. I only know the truth and the law, and that should be enough to protect you.
Protect you. You needed protection from yourself, you know. Grief can bring a man down, and liquor doesn’t help. Glad to see you turn down the wine when you came to dinner with David and me. Glad you came, even if it was for dessert. It means you’re coming out of your self-imposed prison of grief. I tried to help you-fixed you up with dates, and then you found that history professor all on your own. It showed me you were finally moving on with your life.
And I need to move on with mine. Hope you realize that I need to turn a page, as do you. Yours, to go on without being haunted by ghosts of sadness, me to go on to new challenges and new love. But I’ll never forget the two years I worked with you, Jack. You’re not a forgettable character.
Time to go in now.