"I put my neck on the line for you two people. I would like it back."
The case had been messy to start. Rafael Zapata had a girlfriend with a big mouth. She mocked his sexual prowess in front of his lieutenants, so he beat her to death. All-too-common domestic abuse case. Except that Zapata was a Colombian drug lord, and the girlfriend, an undercover DEA agent. That little fact kept the alphabet soup of acronym agencies hopping, especially as it seemed Zapata hadn't made her cover. DEA couldn't reveal it, or other agents in that same operation would be in danger.
A DEA agent was able to pinpoint the location of the homicide -- Zapata's yacht. The search warrant named him as a confidential informant. But the defense insisted that the information be made public, so they could evaluate the informant's credibility. Translation: they wanted an undercover agent to name himself and draw an enormous bull's-eye on his back. Judge Petrovsky argued she could meet the informant privately in her chambers. The agent had declined.
The DA had pressured her to make a deal. Zapata and his lawyer dismissed the idea, easily. If the search warrant was thrown out, the charges would have to be dropped. So she had played strong, pretended her case was far more solid than it was.
"I'll tell you what," Lionel Granger said. "You get your informant lined up, I promise we'll take the deal."
"Take it now, or it's gone," she replied. "And for future reference, if your client intimidates the informant in any way, I will have his bail revoked and his ass thrown in Riker's for the duration of the trial."
"You can't threaten me, bitch," Zapata growled.
Alex held his gaze. "I just did."
"We're going," Granger announced, grabbing his briefcase and standing up from their cozy little conference table.
"You allow this?" Zapata, it seemed, needed to rage. "A woman says these things and you do nothing."
"Yes, Mr. Zapata." Alex wondered darkly if Zapata had expected Granger to slap her around right there in her own office. If Granger wasn't such a sleazeball, she might have shared the joke with him later. "You will also find that a woman can say whatever she wants to about your performance in the bedroom, and you aren't actually allowed to kill her."
Zapata jumped from his seat. He lunged for her, face twisted with rage. Alex leaped back, blind with panic. And Granger shoved the conference table against the wall, neatly trapping his client.
Alex couldn't breathe. She had known, known in that instant that if he had been alone with her, he wouldn't have stopped until she was dead.
"Let's not do anything stupid," Granger said carefully. "Everything's fine. Everything's fine."
Zapata stopped struggling, but his eyes never left Alex's face. Even as Granger called a end to the meeting, and both men left the room, Zapata had stayed behind, lingering in the doorway, staring her down.
Her detectives were less sympathetic.
"You're out of your mind," Detective Stabler said.
"I was hoping he would think about that information coming out in open court," Alex countered.
"And he pissed you off," Benson said.
Alex sighed. "Yeah, that, too."
So much for the deal. Now they'd have to compel the DEA to produce their informant. A two-year undercover operation, blown, or else the state would have to drop the rape and murder charges. The Feds weren't willing to lose their drug case. So the Department of Justice stepped in. That was putting it lightly; they'd issued a protection order from moving forward with the case. Which meant Alex would have to take this to appellate court. This case just kept getting better.
And that was when the DEA agent had contacted her.
"Miss Cabot," he said, in a low, urgent voice. "We've received a credible threat."
"It didn't come from us," she insisted. "We have kept your identity confidential."
"The threat was made against you."
(Establishy. Part one of two. Most of this was swiped from episode 504, Loss, of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. NFI, NFB, but OOC is welcome. Alex will be arriving shortly.)
A DEA agent was able to pinpoint the location of the homicide -- Zapata's yacht. The search warrant named him as a confidential informant. But the defense insisted that the information be made public, so they could evaluate the informant's credibility. Translation: they wanted an undercover agent to name himself and draw an enormous bull's-eye on his back. Judge Petrovsky argued she could meet the informant privately in her chambers. The agent had declined.
The DA had pressured her to make a deal. Zapata and his lawyer dismissed the idea, easily. If the search warrant was thrown out, the charges would have to be dropped. So she had played strong, pretended her case was far more solid than it was.
"I'll tell you what," Lionel Granger said. "You get your informant lined up, I promise we'll take the deal."
"Take it now, or it's gone," she replied. "And for future reference, if your client intimidates the informant in any way, I will have his bail revoked and his ass thrown in Riker's for the duration of the trial."
"You can't threaten me, bitch," Zapata growled.
Alex held his gaze. "I just did."
"We're going," Granger announced, grabbing his briefcase and standing up from their cozy little conference table.
"You allow this?" Zapata, it seemed, needed to rage. "A woman says these things and you do nothing."
"Yes, Mr. Zapata." Alex wondered darkly if Zapata had expected Granger to slap her around right there in her own office. If Granger wasn't such a sleazeball, she might have shared the joke with him later. "You will also find that a woman can say whatever she wants to about your performance in the bedroom, and you aren't actually allowed to kill her."
Zapata jumped from his seat. He lunged for her, face twisted with rage. Alex leaped back, blind with panic. And Granger shoved the conference table against the wall, neatly trapping his client.
Alex couldn't breathe. She had known, known in that instant that if he had been alone with her, he wouldn't have stopped until she was dead.
"Let's not do anything stupid," Granger said carefully. "Everything's fine. Everything's fine."
Zapata stopped struggling, but his eyes never left Alex's face. Even as Granger called a end to the meeting, and both men left the room, Zapata had stayed behind, lingering in the doorway, staring her down.
Her detectives were less sympathetic.
"You're out of your mind," Detective Stabler said.
"I was hoping he would think about that information coming out in open court," Alex countered.
"And he pissed you off," Benson said.
Alex sighed. "Yeah, that, too."
So much for the deal. Now they'd have to compel the DEA to produce their informant. A two-year undercover operation, blown, or else the state would have to drop the rape and murder charges. The Feds weren't willing to lose their drug case. So the Department of Justice stepped in. That was putting it lightly; they'd issued a protection order from moving forward with the case. Which meant Alex would have to take this to appellate court. This case just kept getting better.
And that was when the DEA agent had contacted her.
"Miss Cabot," he said, in a low, urgent voice. "We've received a credible threat."
"It didn't come from us," she insisted. "We have kept your identity confidential."
"The threat was made against you."
(Establishy. Part one of two. Most of this was swiped from episode 504, Loss, of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. NFI, NFB, but OOC is welcome. Alex will be arriving shortly.)