Powder Keg
By Ayesha Haqqiqa
All characters are the property of Dick Wolf &
Co. No money is made in using them for
this story—only a lot of fun!
“Katie, we’re late,” Jamie Ross said as she led the way up the steps to their brownstone. “David will be home any minute, and we haven’t got dinner ready.”
“I’ll help, Mommy,” Katie said, reaching into the mailbox. “I can set the—ooh! What’s all this white powder?”
Jamie turned from the door and looked at her daughter. “Put it back in the mailbox—now! And don’t touch anything! I’m calling 911!”
Lennie Briscoe and Ed Green were putting on gloves and masks as they made their way from their car to Jamie’s stoop.
“We’re practicing for Halloween,” he explained to a very frightened Katie.
“Well, someone gave us a very bad trick,” the child answered back.
27th Precinct House
“Has the lab phoned in its report yet?” Ed Green asked when he poked his head in Lt. Anita Van Buren’s office.
Van Buren looked up from her desk in annoyance. “You know that it has only been a few hours,” she said. “The preliminary test indicated it was not anthrax, but we want to be sure.” She threw papers down in frustration. “I’m getting so mad at all these nut cases who have decided that sending talcum powder in the mail is the thing to do!”
“Downright un-American,” Ed said glumly. “It’s really hampering our ability to do our job.”
“Speaking of job, have you interviewed Ms Ross?” Anita asked.
“Lennie is with her right now,” Ed said. “We realized right away that this mailing didn’t fit the profile. All the anthrax letters were addressed to an office, not a private home. We told Ms Ross that, and it seemed to calm her down.”
Anita nodded. “She must have been frantic, with Katie and all.”
Lennie sat next to Jamie in the examining room in the hospital. “Do you have any enemies who might have wanted to play a trick on you?” he asked.
Jamie shivered. “You don’t think it’s real. I’m waiting until we get the full analysis.”
“Hey, I understand,” Lennie said sympathetically. “But the sooner we jump on this, the sooner we nail the guy who did this.”
Jamie looked at him. “I don’t know if you can. The FBI hasn’t been able to.”
“But they’re after the real terrorists,” Lennie said.
“And who says this wasn’t from them?” Jamie cried. “I have been working on a committee, Women Helping Women, who are sending aid to Afghan women refugees. I’m sure the terrorists don’t like that.”
Lennie wrote it down. “Who else is on this committee?” he asked.
“Lillian Fairbanks, Anita Simpson,” Jamie said distractedly.
“Have any of your members been hassled or harassed?” Lennie asked the busy woman seated behind the desk, a phone to her ear.
“Yes, Raymond, that would be lovely,” she said. “We can use that donation now. Great. GREAT!” She cradled the phone and looked at Lennie. “Sorry. Since Sept. 11, we’ve been swamped with people wanting to help, and we have to strike while the iron is hot. So Jamie got a letter? You know it’s anthrax? Maybe we should put out a press release…”
“We don’t think it’s anthrax,” Lennie said patiently. “The preliminary tests—“
“Yes, a press release would be good,” the woman said, half to herself. “It would raise sympathy, show the public that what we’re doing is making the terrorists mad.”
“Lady!” Lennie raised his voice, but tried to stay polite. “Have you gotten any phone calls, any threats, from anyone?”
She looked up from her reverie. “If we had, you would have read about it in the Times,” she said. “I’m Lillian Fairbanks, and I know how to use the press.”
“I’m sure you do,” Lennie said, less than impressed.
27th Precinct
“The Women Helping Women lead was a dead end,” Lennie reported to Anita. “They are very publicity savvy, and any threat would have been splashed across the pages of the papers. I talked with all the people in the office. They’ve only gotten words of support.”
“Are we going to get some negative publicity from them on this?” Anita asked.
“Well, they’re going to milk it for all it’s worth, even though I told them it appears to be a hoax,” Lennie said. “Can’t the lab hurry up with the tests? That might stifle them.”
Anita took a phone call. When she was done, she looked at Lennie with a smile. “Call them, Lennie, and let them know that it was talcum powder. Pure talcum powder.”
Ed came into the office. “I’ve been on the phone with Forensics,” he said. “They say that the powder was benign. They also say that the handwriting, though disguised, was probably done by someone who is naturally left-handed. There were no usable prints, of course.”
Anita sighed. “Go see Jamie Ross and find out who she knows who likes practical jokes,” she said.
“I don’t know!” Jamie Ross paced the floor of her living room. “I know a lot of people, but none of them would do something like this!”
“What about your classes?” Ed asked. “Do you have any students who aren’t doing well, and might have a grudge against you?”
Jamie shrugged. “I teach honors classes, and work with women’s issues,” she said. “I don’t know of anyone—“
“What kind of women’s issues?” Lennie asked. “Just the Afghan women?”
“No,” Jamie said. “I also work with women who are in abusive relationships. I’ve done some pro bono work for women without resources. But the men involved—they wouldn’t do something like this! Most of them aren’t smart enough.”
“Are they just physical abusers?” Lennie asked.
“No, some have engaged in psychological abuse,” Jamie admitted.
“And you think one of them wouldn’t be smart enough to watch TV and figure out how to get to their wife’s lawyer? Come on, Jamie, give us some names!” Lennie cried.
“Well, it seems a bit much…but I’m helping Elsa Thompson with her divorce. You know her husband. He’s captain at the 1-6.”
“Paul Thompson?” Ed asked in disbelief. “He’s a tough cop, but I didn’t think he went in for spousal abuse.”
“He’s subtle,” Jamie said. “He’s trying to gain custody of the kids, and Elsa is countering with allegations of psychological abuse. I think we have a pretty good case.”
16th Precinct House
“Sorry, Capt. Thompson is out,” the desk sergeant said.
“Hey, man, we have a hot lead on one of his cases,” Ed said urgently. “We were told to report directly to him.”
The desk sergeant scrutinized them. “He’s down at Forensics,” he said.
Lennie and Ed burst into the Forensics lab, just in time to see a lab technician hand the Ross letter to Capt. Thompson.
“We’ll take that, it’s our case,” Lennie said crisply, grabbing the plastic bag from Thompson’s hand.
“I was—taking it to Van Buren—“ Thompson blustered.
“Yeah, and now we’re taking you,” Ed said as he put the cuffs on the captain.
“This is terrible, terrible,” Jack said as he looked at the arrest records as Serena Southerlyn looked on. “I was at Jamie’s house last night. This has really affected Katie. She might have to go into counseling.”
“Do you think you should be the one to prosecute?” Serena asked. “Or will the defense say that you are prejudiced?”
“The only thing I’m prejudiced against are people who break the law,” Jack said. “We have to stop this sort of thing, right now. Hoaxes are draining our resources, keeping us from finding out the real perpetrators of the anthrax terror. We’re going all the way with this.”
“And I agree,” Nora Lewin said as she entered the room. “We can’t let this one off with a slap on the wrist. I hear that other hoaxers are facing life in prison.”
“But they’ll probably get a year or so probation,” Serena said.
“In the one case where a letter wasn’t actually mailed, and there was no intent to do harm,” Jack said. “This case is far different. We have a man who is manipulative and has a record of psychological abuse. The worst thing about it is that he’s a cop.”
“And that’s why we can show no mercy,” Nora said crisply. “Nail him, Jack.”
“Come on, Jack,” Arthur Gold said. “This was just a practical joke. You can’t be serious, going for life.”
“Public endangerment is a serious matter,” Jack said. “And when this sort of behavior is engaged in by a policeman, a police captain, it is inexcusable.”
“Look, it was a dumb thing to do,” Capt. Thompson said, leaning over the table. “I’ll admit to that. But I had to let off some steam. This divorce—“ He shook his head.
“You, of all people, know how much time the police have to spend on hoaxes like this,” Jack said darkly. “You, of all people, know that you aren’t supposed to tamper with evidence. We’re lucky that Detectives Briscoe and Green got to Forensics in time.”
“I was going to take the letter to Van Buren and tell all,” Capt. Thompson said. “I had a fit of conscience, and wanted to do the right thing.”
“Just like you wanted to do the right thing by your wife by petitioning the court for full custody of your children?” Jack asked.
“Look, my wife is an unfit mother—“ Thompson began.
“And that doesn’t have a thing to do with this matter,” Arthur Gold said.
“The hell it doesn’t!” Jack exclaimed. “It goes to the heart of the case!”
“We’ll see,” Gold said, pulling out a blue-backed paper. “Motion to suppress.”
“The divorce case is in progress,” Arthur Gold argued. “The allegations that my client is manipulative and practicing psychological abuse by petitioning the court for his children are just that—allegations. They cannot be presented in court.”
“However, how the defendant viewed the probable outcome of his custody case is admissible,” Jack said. “We will prove that he had reason to believe that Jamie Ross had convinced the judge that his wife Elsa should have custody. That was his motive for mailing Ms Ross the envelope containing talcum powder.”
Judge Rivera frowned. “I can’t allow you to go into specifics of the divorce case,” he said. “But you do have a point, Mr. McCoy. If Capt. Thompson thought he would lose custody of his children, and Ms Ross was the cause, you have every right to present evidence, as it goes to motive.”
“Great,” Serena said as they left the judge’s chambers. “We can put Jamie Ross on the stand, but we can’t go into particulars. It will rest on whether the jury believes Ms Ross or Capt. Thompson.”
“And you can be sure Thompson will have a parade of character witnesses,” Jack sighed. “No, we need to find someone besides Ms Ross who can verify that Thompson viewed her as a threat.”
16th Precinct
“Look, all I want to know is who Capt. Thompson hangs out with,” Lennie asked the desk sergeant.
“The last time I helped you guys, you arrested my captain,” the sergeant said glumly. “Why are you picking on him?”
“Maybe because he wasted our time with this talcum powder bull,” Ed said roughly. “Or maybe because he scared a little girl so bad she’s in counseling. But maybe you don’t have kids.”
“A little girl?” The sergeant looked stricken. “I didn’t know about that. Go see Terry Morgan at the 33rd. They were best buddies. Captain was staying with Terry since the divorce thing happened.”
Ed and Lennie caught Lt. Morgan coming out of the 33rd Precinct House.
“Yeah, I know what happened to Paul. His marriage was falling apart. And then all this happened downtown. We were all stretched to the limit. I think sending the letter was just his way of letting off steam.”
“Come on, man,” Ed objected. “He knew that pulling a stunt like that would make it harder on everyone.”
“I don’t think he was thinking,” Lt. Morgan said.
Part 47
“So, Ms Ross, you were Elsa Thompson’s attorney?” Jack McCoy asked as Jamie sat, poised and cool, on the stand.
“Yes, for the custody trial,” Jamie said. “I was working pro bono.”
“You are a professor, are you not?” Jack asked. “Why were you doing pro bono work in this case?”
“Because I am an advocate for abused—“
“Objection!” Arthur Gold said.
“Sustained,” Judge Rivera said.
“Do you feel you had made your case for having Elsa Thompson retain custody of her children?”
“Yes, I did,” Jamie replied. “And I think Capt. Thompson knew it.”
“Objection! Witness cannot tell what my client was thinking!” Arthur Gold said.
“Sustained.” Judge Rivera turned to Jamie. “Please, just answer the questions.”
“No more questions,” Jack said.
“Ms Ross,” Arthur Gold said, “isn’t it true that you’ve known Capt. Thompson for a long time?”
“Yes,” Jamie said guardedly.
“And you actually worked with him on cases when you were associated with the DA’s office.”
“Yes,” Jamie replied.
“And you know that he was a man who had a certain wry sense of humor? Didn’t he send you a cake with a cartoon of a man behind bars after you convicted Ted Fuller for murder?”
“Yes, but sending someone a cake is far different from sending someone an envelope with anthrax!” Jamie exclaimed.
“But it wasn’t anthrax,” Arthur Gold said gently.
Jack was writing his summation when Jamie Ross came in. He went over to her and put an arm on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry about the cross,” he said. “But don’t worry, we’ll get him.”
“I don’t know, Jack,” Jamie said, sitting down. “I can read juries as well as you. As soon as he puts on his character witnesses, we’ll be lucky if he gets probation.”
“I have faith in the people,” Jack said. “They are tired of terrorism, and hoaxes make them mad. He won’t get off with a slap on the wrist.” He smiled. “You know me, Jamie. I’ll take this to the end.”
Part 47
“I’ve known Paul for twenty years,” Terry Morgan said. “He’s always had a sense of humor, you know? He’d play jokes to ease tension. That was his way.”
“And you think this is what he did in this case?” Arthur Gold asked.
“Sure,” Morgan said.
Jack McCoy stood up. “Wasn’t the defendant staying with you at the time the letter was sent?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Why was he staying with you?”
“He was getting a divorce from his wife.”
“And how was he feeling about getting a divorce?”
“What do you think?” Morgan asked roughly. “He was really down about it. He loved his kids.”
“And that was why he was trying to get custody of them?”
“Sure.”
“What did he think his chances were for getting his kids?”
“Objection! Hearsay!”
“Sustained.”
“Did he ever talk with you about his chances for getting his kids?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” Morgan said reluctantly.
“And what did he say?”
Morgan was silent.
“What did he say? You are under oath, Lieutenant,” Jack persisted.
“He said that that Ross bitch had screwed things up. That he wouldn’t be getting his kids.” He looked stricken.
“The question here, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is not just the act, but the intent. When Paul Thompson put talcum powder into that envelope and mailed it to Jamie Ross, he knew it would strike terror in her heart. He knew it would tie up the resources of the police force, resources needed to fight real crime. The defense attorney will say it was a practical joke. I say this country is in no mood for practical jokes. Punish him to the fullest extent of the law.”
“I think we sent a message,” Jack said when he and Serena walked into the office. Nora looked up from her papers.
“The verdict?” she asked.
“Ten to twenty years for public endangerment and terror,” Serena said. “They were only out an hour.”
“I hope this sends a message to would-be hoaxers,” Jack said.
“Now, if only we can find the people responsible for the real anthrax letters,” Nora said.