[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/hMmnlhb.png[/img][/center] [b]Manhattan Detention Complex “The Tombs”[/b] Angelo Campisi looked through the thick plexiglass partition at Chase. He wore the traditional orange all the DOC inmates wore, his clothing and jewels confiscated when the arrived. Chase noticed that Angelo’s dark hair was shiny and slicked back into place. “At least you’re getting your hair gel in here,” Adrian said into the phone mounted on the wall. Angelo had a matching phone on his side of the glass. “I had to trade away a carton of cigarettes for it,” Angelo grumbled. “But it was worth it. In here appearances are everything.” “Let’s talk about your case,” said Chase. “I have to go to the US Attorney’s office to get discovery. I tried getting in touch with your previous counsel, but--” “Jake Wexler isn’t gonna cooperate,” said Angelo. “I bet me dropping him and picking you has got the rest of the Family spooked. Jake is in their pocket, but you ain’t. They don’t want you whispering sweet little nothings into my ear.” As a Capo in the Regetti Crime Family, Angelo knew more than enough about the Family to take them all down if he decided to start talking to the right police officers. As much as the FBI liked to tout their crime-busting prowess when it came to the Mafia, it had been informants and testifying mob bosses that had really done the most damage to La Cosa Nostra over the last fifty years. Paranoia was rampant among the mobsters. To even suspect someone was going to turn informant was grounds enough to kill them. “And that’s what the feds are hoping for.” Angelo held his stubby finger out until it was pressed against the glass. “They framed me for this, Chase. They want to use this as leverage to get me to flip. I’m not a fucking rat, you hear me? I would rather die a hundred times over than give up my Family. Omerta, Chase. The code of silence, it is a powerful thing.” “Right” said Chase, clearing his throat. “But from what I’ve found out about the case they seem to be doing a full-court press. No bail, deeming you a flight risk, and a potential fifteen to thirty years in a federal prison. But, it may be a moot point, Angelo. Your wife said you have an alibi.” “Yes,” said Angelo. “I… umm…” “What’s her name?” “Rosa. She’s what they call a--” “A goomar,” said Chase. “I’ve seen [i]The Sopranos[/i], Angelo. So you were with Rosa the night of the truck hijacking?” “Damn straight,” said Angelo.”She lives in Crown Heights. “ He gave Chase the address before a small smile crept on to his face. “She does this thing with her pinkie where she gets it up in--” “I’ll get my PI on it,” Chase shouted as he held the phone away from his ear. On the other side of the glass, Angelo was reenacting a very animated scene. “I’ll be in touch!” --- [b]Stavros’ Greek Diner Midtown[/b] “I don’t like it.” Misty Knight looked at the half-eaten turkey club on her plate before looking back up at Chase. “The guy is a scumbag, Chase.” “He certainly is,” Chase said between bites of his cheeseburger. “And he’s gotten away with countless crimes in the past. But if he isn’t guilty of this one, isn’t that all that matters?” “How much is he paying you?” “Enough to keep the rent and power on for the rest of the year,” Chase said without missing a beat. “And that’s all that really matters to you,” Misty said coolly. “You have to start thinking about this differently,” Chase said as he wiped ketchup from his lips with a napkin. “When you were a cop, you were part of the system and that machinery was unstoppable. You know yourself how many people get caught up in the gears, regardless of their innocence. Our jobs as defense is to test the validity of that machine. It’s not so much about if he was innocent or not, it’s if the rules were being followed. If things like prejudice and laziness led to them railroading Angelo then it's not rigt. You know yourself that there are a lot of lazy and corrupt cops out there. And you also know first hand that evidence can be tampered with.” “Yeah,” she said after pushing her turkey sandwich around. “No thanks to you.” “How many times am I going to have to apologize for getting you fired?” “Until you get me not fired,” said Misty. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I get what you’re saying, I do. I’m not some cape-wearing weirdo who sees the world as only black and white. I get being pragmatic, I do, you gotta do what you can to keep business going? But if Angelo is innocent and we get him back on the streets, what happens when he actually does something that gets someone hurt or even killed? Misty was surprised by Chase’s reaction. For the first time since she’d known the lawyer, he was without an answer. He struggled to come up with anything as he looked down at his plate of fries. “I’ll… work on a solution,” he finally said. “It’s the best I can do. I’m going to go downtown to get all the discovery from the US Attorney’s office and actually start looking at the facts of this case. In the meantime, I want you to head up to Crown Heights and talk to Angelo’s mistress and see if she has any concrete proof of where they were the night of the hijacking in question. If you think it’s not kosher, then you can walk away and I can cut a deal with the US attorney to have Angelo turn state’s witness. He gets off the street and we get paid. Sound good?” “It’s not ideal,” said Misty. “But it’ll work for now.” As Chase and Knight wrapped up their business, eyes were watching. While a black sedan with tinted windows watched the diner from one end of the street, a burgundy Lincoln with two men in tracksuits watched the diner from the other end of the street. --- [b]Crown Heights Brooklyn[/b] Misty came to the third floor landing but stopped the second she saw the open door. 3C, Rosa Torres’ apartment, was wide open. She started forward, wishing she hadn’t left her gun in the glove compartment of her car, and gingerly stepped into the apartment. Laying face first on the hardwood floor was a dead body, a pool of blood beneath it. Misty’s cop training told her to back out right away before she could contaminate the crime scene, but she had to know who the body was. Misty bent down to look at the body. It was female, with long dark hair and a complexion that hinted at a Hispanic background. “Rosa,” Misty said softly to herself. “Son of a bitch.”