Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 49. Law vs. Justice

Morgan stepped closer. “You really don’t remember any of that? Anything about how you ended up hurt and lost?” Hotch shook his head, looking as though he blamed himself for a faulty memory in addition to everything else.

“That’s enough.”

All three heads turned toward the new voice. The elderly doctor stood in the doorway. A covered plate in one hand; a tiny paper cup holding pills in the other. He smiled as he moved to the bed, motioning Reid to stand.

“Sorry, boys. Time’s up.” The doctor wasn’t sure if his patient’s fears had been allayed or merely replaced with new ones. The look on the man’s face was more of shock than anything else. “Visiting hours are over. Out you go.” His quiet authority had power; Reid and Morgan told Hotch they’d be back, but left without argument.

The doctor made an executive decision. Pills first, then a few bites of food before the medication took effect. He was determined to make sure this man slept undisturbed for at least eight hours before he’d let him speak to or see anyone else.

No matter what.

xxxxxxx

“Damn it!” Morgan slammed his hand against the wall. He’d waited until they were several yards down the hall before giving vent to his frustration.

“I know. It probably hurts him worse than anything physical to think he was in dereliction of duty.”

“That’s not it, kid!” Morgan made an effort to keep his voice low when a passing nurse glared at him. “If Hotch can’t remember what she did to him, Bescardi will probably get off scot-free.”

“She can’t! My God, Morgan, she drugged a federal agent! She kidnapped him and she left him to die! Even if she didn’t mean to, she’s still guilty of a couple felonies. Unlawful restraint at the very least! What do you mean she’d get off?”

“If there’s no testimony against her from her victim, all the evidence we could possibly gather is circumstantial. Unless that bitch took pictures or left a journal or some other record confessing her intention to harm Hotch, no jury or judge will ever convict her on the strength of…what?...car keys?...fingerprints in a place she can say she was supposed to be?...or, even better, the testimony of a couple of psychics about their paranormal take on what happened? And how about that? If this goes forward and everything about you and Ana comes out, that’ll be your worst nightmare, right?” Morgan slammed his fist into another unfortunate wall as they entered the hospital’s lobby area.

Reid’s brain was accessing everything he’d ever read about legal procedures at lightning speed. Manufacture of an hallucinogen by a non-dependent person could carry a five year sentence. But if she used her status as a research scientist, she’d likely avoid any repercussions. Reid suspected she’d altered some form of lorazepam. It was an anti-anxiety drug that counted amnesia as a regrettable side effect.

Reid also considered Bescardi guilty of kidnapping. But a competent attorney could argue it was the slightly lesser crime of restraint. Restraint was defined as restricting a person’s movements intentionally and unlawfully in such a manner as to interfere substantially with his liberty and to do so without his consent. The crime carried a sentence of five to twenty-five years. The only problem was, if Hotch couldn’t remember being victimized, the case would prove as flimsy as a house of cards. Any lawyer worth his briefs would blow it apart with minimal effort.

And Reid couldn’t see Hotch lying to put Bescardi away. He’d lie at the drop of a hat to save one of us if it were a life-or-death situation, but he’d never lie to win a court case. He’s not built that way.

By the time they reached the main door and Morgan strong-armed it open, slamming it back hard enough to impact the adjacent outside wall, Reid had to admit his teammate was right. And he felt like pounding on a wall himself. But he resisted. Morgan had set the bar pretty high when it came to abusing walls and doors. Reid knew anything he did would just suffer in comparison.

“That’s just not fair.” His voice dripped with disgust for the legal system that circumscribed their lives as well as their careers. Morgan cast him a sidelong glance.

“The law has nothing to do with justice, kid. Welcome to the real world.”

xxxxxxx

Rossi drove as quickly as the rough terrain allowed.

He was anxious to know how Aaron was doing. Needed to see for himself; to reassure himself with a touch or a few minutes of quiet conversation. He kept trying his cell phone, but the connection still wasn’t getting through.

He turned his mind to the details he’d have to take care of once he was back in civilization. First, check on Aaron. Second, get the authorities involved and have Carol arrested. He anticipated a short, sweet trial. All Aaron had to do was tell his story. With the supplemental evidence of the samples he’d taken from the kitchen, and with supporting testimony from Ana, Reid, Morgan and himself, her conviction should be a foregone conclusion.

The only delay should be the few days it would probably take Hotch to recover enough to give a statement.

Cut and dried. In the can. Piece of cake.

Rossi smiled. He liked it when messy situations could be resolved cleanly and swiftly through the system. It didn’t happen often, but, in this case, he was sure justice would prevail. It would be a thing of beauty.

He decided to try phoning Morgan again. When the call connected, he was surprised and delighted. The feeling didn’t last long.

“Rossi, we’ve got a problem…”