Coroner 2

Alan's Story (One and a half years earlier)

Alan walked home from his shift, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other. He was glad to be out of his uniform, and even more grateful he was moved up to detective and would not have to wear it for much longer anyway. Today, however, Alan was not thinking about his new assignment (he was expected to report to the major crimes unit on Monday). He was distracted.

Alan was on his way home from court. Several weeks ago, he and Todd McCain, his partner had responded to a late night robbery at a local Seven-Eleven. The guy robbing the place had to be in his late teens/early twenties and he was armed. The clerk tripped the silent alarm and Alan and Todd responded.

The man in question had been armed with a shotgun when they arrived. Naturally, both Smith and McCain drew their weapons, keeping them trained on the offender. Neither of them wanted to shoot the kid, but neither were they going to rule out the possibility.

No one could have predicted that damn truck backfiring, Alan thought.

A delivery truck had stopped at a light then backfired outside the store when it started to move. Todd was younger than Alan and was still a little jumpy. He thought a shot had been fired. He immediately fired a round at the robber. Lucky for the kid, Todd missed.

Unfortunately, Todd was not so lucky.

The kid fired back and caught Alan's Partner right in the stomach. The boy was not prepared for the recoil and was knocked back. Alan seized upon this opportunity and was on top of the shooter before he could respond. Alan quickly subdued the gunman and called for an ambulance for his partner.

Alan rode with Todd to the nearest hospital. Sadly, Todd had lost too much blood and did not survive. Alan attended the funeral and promised his parents that the man who did this would know justice. At that time, the boy, Frederick Wilson, was in custody and awaiting trial.

Alan paused at the entrance to his apartment building and crushed his cigarette in the ash-can. While he was allowed to smoke in his own unit, the management of his building did not allow smoking in any of the public areas. Alan unlocked the front door (it was locked after 9PM) and walked to the elevator.

The trial had been relatively brief. The prosecution noted that Wilson had planned to rob the convenience store and attempted to do so at gunpoint. The lawyer then pointed out that Wilson had shot and subsequently killed a uniformed police officer. It seemed like an easy enough case.

Then the kid's defense attorney got his say. Alan had to think of him as a kid as it turned out he was seventeen. The lawyer pointed out that his client was indeed a minor and while he had fired a shot, he claimed it was 'accidental' and he was startled because Officer McCain had fired first. Wilson's father was a wealthy pharmaceutical executive and was able to hire a top-notch defense for his offspring.

Alan shook his head as he entered the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. Young Wilson was a privileged brat who thought the rules did not apply to him. He thought it would be a thrill to scare the clerk. Little brat didn't even need the money!

The jury took several hours to deliberate. Alan was in the courtroom for every moment of that trial. He felt he owed it to Todd and his family.

The jury found Wilson guilty of robbery, and acquitted him of murder. Because of his age (and no doubt because of his father's affluence) he was sentenced to probation and community service.

A goddamn slap on the wrist! Alan stormed down the hallway to his apartment. You call that justice? I swear if I ever see that kid again I'll bash his teeth in! Alan unlocked his apartment door. It was dark, which Alan thought was odd, as he usually left a light on for himself. Alan also noticed a noise he couldn't quite place; a kind of low whine. Maybe the furnace kicking in or-

That's when Alan noticed the tall figure standing by the open window.

Alan paused for the briefest moment, then reached into his coat for his gun.

"That won't be necessary, Officer Smith."

That rasping voice stopped Alan dead in his tracks. He knew at once who the figure was. It's that guy they're talking about in the squad room, that guy who's killing all those petty crooks. Alan knew he was in the presence of the Coroner.

The open window allowed some moonlight into Alan's otherwise dark apartment. The Coroner was a tall man, clearly, but he seemed to have his right hand resting on something roughly waist high in front of him. He gestured with his left hand:

"Would you care to sit down, Officer? It is your apartment, after all." He made a noise that almost sounded like a chuckle. "I hope you don't mind we let ourselves in while we waited for you to come home."

We? Who else is here? Alan looked around quickly, not seeing anyone else but still hearing that whine. He fumbled for a cigarette and managed to light it. "T-That's OK, thanks." He took a drag. "What can I do for you this evening?"

Alan reached for a light switch, but the Coroner waved him away. "I'd prefer it dark if you don't mind, officer." Alan let his hand rest at his side, never taking his eyes of the wanted individual now standing in his home.

"As for me, there's nothing I need from you. Quite the contrary, I'm here to do something for you." The whine grew louder and Alan thought it might be coming from the dark space directly in front of his uninvited guest. The Coroner shifted slightly and the noise ceased.

Alan took another puff of his cigarette and blew out the smoke slowly. "And what is that, uh, sir?"

"I heard you were in court today, officer." Alan could not see the man's face, but we would swear the Coroner was staring right through him, causing Alan to suppress a chill. "The trial of the man who murdered your partner in cold blood."

Alan visibly winced at this remark. The events of the trial would hurt him for a long time. The Coroner saw this reaction; "Hardly justice, wouldn't you agree?"

Is this why he came here, to bait me? I'm not buying into it. "The court did it's duty, that's all any of us can ask."

The Coroner audibly snorted. "Don't hand me the official department line, Smith!" he snapped. "That little shit got off on a technicality! That is not justice."

Alan began to feel fear creeping into his heart. This is a man who allegedly went around shooting people without any apparent regret or remorse. He did not want to find out what happens when the Coroner was angry. He quickly put out his cigarette. "That is your opinion and you're of course entitled to it. What can I do to help you?"

The Coroner raised his head slightly and, had Alan been able to see the other man's face, he would have seen an icy smile. "You can help right a wrong."

The Coroner leaned to his right and forward. Alan jumped back and nearly again reached for his gun. The loud thump and increased whine stopped him from doing so. Alan looked down at the source of both noises and saw a figure face down, sobbing. Alan knelt down to help him up and found Fred Wilson looking up at him.

At this point, Wilson's face was bruised (the Coroner had clearly taken a few liberties with him before Alan arrived), covered in tears, dirt, snot and a few traces of drying blood from the mouth and nose (more of the Coroner's handiwork). Alan never forgot the eyes, though. Wilson's eyes were wide and filled with unmistaken terror. In the courtroom, the boy showed maybe some mild apprehension, but nothing like this. Wilson clearly feared for his life.

"Hel-Help me..." Wilson stammered. "He-He's crazy!" The Coroner clamped a large, gloved hand on the boy's shoulder. It likely did not hurt, but Fred let out a yelp. Clearly he had had a rough night.

"Now Freddy," the Coroner rasped in a patronizing tone. "The policeman and I still have business to discuss, so be still." He gave Wilson's shoulder a squeeze. Wilson trembled but went silent except for a small whimper. "That's a good boy."

Alan was stunned. Never would he have believed he would be coming home to something like this. He mustered as much of his professional demeanor as he could manage. "And what do you plan to do with this young man?"

"I found him harassing some girl for sex" the Coroner snorted. "The little punk got away with murder and didn't waste any time with regret, all he was thinking about was scoring. In any case, as I said I came here to right a wrong." The Coroner reached into his coat with the hand not holding his hostage and for a third time in several minutes Alan reached for his gun. The Coroner saw it and again chuckled.

"I told you that wasn't necessary." He placed something on the kitchen table and slid it across to Alan. "It's time justice was served." Alan looked down and saw a gun with a silencer attached to it.

"This kid needs to get what's coming to him. He took your partner, you take his. Right between the eyes, if you like," Fred began to sob.

Alan picked up the gun and looked at it with some disbelief. He could not believe what he was seeing. This vigilante wanted him to put a bullet in the head of a kid who shot his partner. At that moment, and Alan would never admit this to another person, he was tempted.

"Go ahead. I'll take him and the gun with me. He'll be found far from here, nothing to connect you.

Alan looked grimly at the gun in his hand. This punk got off after killing a cop! My partner! He was a good man. Why shouldn't I put this bullet right in his head! Alan put the gun against the head of the kid, who was not crying uncontrollably. Alan's finger rested on the trigger, but he hesitated. No, I can't do this. He pulled the gun back, placed it back on the table, and slid it back to the Coroner. For a moment, Alan was surprised to see him there. Lost in his thoughts, he actually forgot he was here with a known criminal.

The Coroner looked down at the gun then regarded Alan. "Is there a problem, officer?"

Alan met the Coroner's gaze solemnly. "I'm sorry, I can't. I understand what you're trying to do and I can even appreciate it on some level, but I can't. This isn't justice, it's just petty revenge."

The Coroner picked up his gun and put it back in his coat. With a sudden movement, he picked up Fred and forced him to stand. Fred complied, still whimpering as his captor maneuvered him to the open window and fire escape. When Fred was standing outside, the Coroner, still with one hand on his hostage, regarded Alan. In the moonlight, Alan could almost make out his features, though his hat and goggles made in difficult.

"As you wish officer Smith, I'll deal with the trash myself, but remember, revenge and justice don't have to be mutually exclusive." The Coroner stepped out of the window. Alan took a moment to compose himself and looked out the window down the fire escape. There was no trace of the man or his captive. He must be fast, or jumped down the fire escape. They say this guy's strong, so who knows...

At that point, between the trial and his encounter with a vigilante in his own home, Alan was exhausted. He quickly went into his bedroom and passed out, clothes still on.

Several days later, at his new desk in MCU, Alan read a report of how Frederick Wilson had been found gunned down 6 blocks from his apartment with a known petty drug dealer. As two different kinds of bullets were found in Wilson and the pusher, it was assumed the kid was trying to score, cheaped out on what he owed and the dealer shot him, then the Coroner got to the dealer shortly thereafter. A gun was found at the crime scene, prints matched the dealer and the bullets in Wilson's body matched the found gun. No further investigation was made into Wilson's death and the file concerning the drug dealer's death was turned over to the detectives investigating the Coroner. Shortly thereafter, Smith was assigned to that case.