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priscaTitle: Justice isn't always fair.
Character: Jack McCoy
Word Count: 318
Prompt: justice
Rating: PG13
:::
Jack dropped down on his desk chair and poured in a glass of Whiskey. It was needed today. Yes, he had known; the case had not been as proven as he had wished for. Though everyone had done an excellent job, the concurrent evidence couldn't be found.
His instincts told him that the man was guilty and killed his wife and his little daughter by causing the gas explosion in the family's summer cottage. He had acted like a broken man when Jack met him first, but something in his eyes had told him the truth.
It had been a lengthy court hearing, and Jack had done his best to convince the jury that the man behind the mask he put on was a ruthless monster. He had seen the horror reflected on some faces when he talked about the dreadful fear the mother must have felt when she realized that there was no escape and her desperate try to save at least her child.
All in vain. In the end, the jury had decided that, yes, the crime was a horrible one, but the man who had followed the court with a face full of pain and grief also was a victim; a father and husband who had lost the two people he had loved most in the world. No one had been ready to face the horrible truth. No one but him.
Jack took a sip of his Whiskey before pouring the rest into the pot of the houseplant that Abbie had put up there because she thought he could need some green in his dark office. Alcohol was not the answer. Justice wasn't always fair; he had learned this over the course of years he was already working for the district attorney; all he could do was to move on to the next case. And to the next. And the next. It would never end.
Character: Jack McCoy
Word Count: 318
Prompt: justice
Rating: PG13
:::
Jack dropped down on his desk chair and poured in a glass of Whiskey. It was needed today. Yes, he had known; the case had not been as proven as he had wished for. Though everyone had done an excellent job, the concurrent evidence couldn't be found.
His instincts told him that the man was guilty and killed his wife and his little daughter by causing the gas explosion in the family's summer cottage. He had acted like a broken man when Jack met him first, but something in his eyes had told him the truth.
It had been a lengthy court hearing, and Jack had done his best to convince the jury that the man behind the mask he put on was a ruthless monster. He had seen the horror reflected on some faces when he talked about the dreadful fear the mother must have felt when she realized that there was no escape and her desperate try to save at least her child.
All in vain. In the end, the jury had decided that, yes, the crime was a horrible one, but the man who had followed the court with a face full of pain and grief also was a victim; a father and husband who had lost the two people he had loved most in the world. No one had been ready to face the horrible truth. No one but him.
Jack took a sip of his Whiskey before pouring the rest into the pot of the houseplant that Abbie had put up there because she thought he could need some green in his dark office. Alcohol was not the answer. Justice wasn't always fair; he had learned this over the course of years he was already working for the district attorney; all he could do was to move on to the next case. And to the next. And the next. It would never end.