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| Scene Title | A Right to Hate |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Following her arrest at a book store, Anna is confronted by both her parents, and members of the New York Police Department who may have an ulterior motive. |
| Date | November 15, 2010 |
In handcuffs at the age of fifteen, that is the way Anna Mary James is spending her evening.
The interrogation room at the Crown Heights Police Station in Brooklyn is intentionally Spartan in appearance, a stark gray-painted concrete block room with a mirror covering the length of one wall, closed-circuit security camera perched in one corner observing the metal table bolted to the floor and the teenage girl seated at it, her cuffed hands resting in her lap.
It's been an hour since the incident at the Borders bookstore, an hour since Anna was arrested by police for possession of an improvised incindeary device and reckless endangerment. Apparently the city of New York frowns upon home-made explosive devices, the likes of which what Anna was carrying around was classified as.
She hasn't spoken with anyone from the police yet, outside of statements of her name and bring run thorugh processing of electronic fingerprint scanning and identification card screening. Unmanifested Tier-0 Evolved are admittedly treated differently by the police than ordinary criminals, alleged or not.
There is no official precinct policy on the handling of Evolved than Non-Evolved in situations like Anna's, but personal prejudice goes a long way. In a world where idology can be used as a weapon, where fear is the most powerful tool, not even the police are immune to the perceived stigma that the Evolved carry.
Not even the officer overseeing Anna's arrest: Aude Castilades.
Anna doesn't speak. She's not in a good mood, and as such, she just stares at the wall, waiting for someone to show up. She's not moving, not doing anything except breathing, waiting, and going over what'll happen in her head a thousand times over. That last part is why she's probably in such a poor mood, because she can't think of any way this'll turn out well.
The female officer who's done her limited processing so far, doesn't even deign to knock when she's coming back. The issue is that Anna's a minor, at least for one more year. So parents pretty much need to be present for anything beyond the initial processing to be done. The African American cop, petite in stature, hair slicked back into a severe bun, she's unhappy. Very unhappy and has made no bones about letting Anna know this through the not gentle handling of the young girl.
Sure, it's been by the book, very much by the book and she hasn't been rough with her. She's been just a cop. The door closes behind her, the NYPD officer dragging a chair over opposite Anna, flopping the file down. "Anything you wanna say before your foster parents come in? Because I gotta tell you, that little stunt at the bookstore and then add on what you said to the whole nation the advocate" Aude shakes her head side to side, clucking her tongue, adjusting the file. "It dont' look good at al Miss James. Nu uh, not in the least"
"Whatever." The girl responds to Aude, not dignifying her with more of a response. Not at all. Anna knows that she's being branded as an Evo by them, and that she's gone on some big-time record as an Evo hater. She knows this looks… unusual at best. But she doesn't wish to comment on it. Not yet anyway. She knows she has every right to remain silent.
"Whatever?" Aude's brows go sky high. "Whatever indeed. Clearly, you don't care about what you would have done, if you'd succeeded in doing what you planned. That these would be murder charges in multiple counts" The petite officer points out, flipping open the file to glance over the first page, Anna's sunny face peering back from the paper. "Your Foster Parents are right outside, are you sure that you don't have anything to say other than whatever before they come in?"
Anna has only one response to that, "Bring them in." It's cold, distant. As though Anna just doesn't care about what the fosters think about her and her recent action. Which is because she doesn't, mind. Yeah, she gets along well enough with them, but… to say that it's more than a distant friendship would be to say a falsehood.
Fifteen year olds, what can you say? They've generation after generation of perfecting the I don't care. And with that Aude's rising from her seat so that she can reach for the door, open it and poke her head out. "You can come in now" A touch more warmth - as if Aude could actually exhibit much of any - for the Foster parents, opening the portal wide enough for the both of them.
It's like having your parents called in for a conference with the Principal at school, magnified under a lens of being in handcuffs. Timothy and Margaret Broderick have tried to be supportive parents to their adopted daughter, despite being saddled with the double-whammy of having an unmanifested and registered Evolved daughter, despite her vocal anti-evolved sentiments weighing down on the family. Neighbors talk, rumors start, and their parenting gets embarrassingly brought into question.
Now this.
Timothy's expression is one of tempered anger, clear in the way that Margaret's hand rests on his shoulder, much in the way a kennel master might try to keep an exceptionally snippy dog on his leash. "Anna," Margaret's tone is decidedly more diplomatic as she comes in, sliding away from her husband's side to Anna's, then immediately looking up to Aude.
"Does— does she really need to be in handcuffs? She's just a child," defensiveness flares in the brunette, her gray eyes narrowing as she moves to Anna's side, laying a hand on her shoulder that is both supportive and judgmental all in one paradoxical way.
"What were you thinking, Anna?" Timothy is struggling not to snap, his voice holding all the tension of a taut rope about to snap. "No, I mean— it's obvious that you weren't thinking. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you're in? Where did you even get that gasoline? Is it that Jeremy kid you've been hanging around? Did he ask you to do this?"
"Timothy," Margaret grates the words out through clenched teeth, "for the love of God can't you see she's scared?" Her eyes flick back to the girl at her side. "Anna, it's okay. You tell officer Castilades everything, whoever made you do this you tell her and we'll get this all cleared up." Her eyes are glassy, watery, jaw tense.
Anna sighs, looking down as her foster parents come in and start to talk. Timothy isn't such a problem, Margaret is more of one… because she just doesn't seem angry. Anger Anna can deal with, but this? This is just not fair. "Jeremy told me to, Margaret." Anna half-lies, half-tells the truth. While Jeremy might not have told her to, he certainly encouraged the idea.
"Mr. Broderick, Mrs. Broderick" Aude gestures for the seat. ORdinarily there'd be a detective doing this but with the city the way it is, and Walsh coming, she's buying time. "The handcuffs are necessary because of the nature of the charges that will be brought against her and standard procedure. Fifteen or not" Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, the handcuffs aren't coming off. There's a reason for them. Anna speaks up about someone named Jeremy having told her to do it. INward glee to a degree
"We didn't go into details on the phone, but I'll go into them now. Detective Walsh is on his way, he was at another precinct and will be handling your daughters case. I want to say right off the bat that she's very lucky to be alive at this point. With the declaration of Martial law, Habeus Corpus suspended and what she had on her person up to and including the improved incendiary device that she had on her person, she could very well have been considered a lethal threat and killed."
"They are taking actions like these very seriously in the wake of the activity that has rocked this city, especially after the 8th. In light as well, of her appearance on the advocate and her stance on evolved, things are not good for her. Not in the least. She's very lucky. I cannot stress it enough."
Immediately, a hand goes up to Margaret's mouth, her brows raising and shock registering on her face when Officer Castilades explains the severity of the offense. But it's Anna's father that speaks up. "Jesus Christ," his expression sags into one of frustration, then anger. "What were you thinking?! Do you have any idea how lucky you are you weren't shot?" Now he's raising his voice. "How lucky you are someone else didn't shoot you? God forbid you actually lit that thing, do you have any idea how much damage you could have caused? How much we would have to pay for? Do you hate us that much!?"
"Timothy!" Margaret hisses, her hand clamping down on Anna's shoulder despite her defense of the girl. "She was— she was tricked into it. Filling her head with these— with all this— " Margaret's hand over her mouth wavers and her voice hitches in the back of her throat.
"What's going to happen to her now? What— what are we looking at for charges? Is she— " Timothy glances back at his adopted daughter, then officer Castilades. "What's going to happen to her?"
Anna grows silent again. She looks down, face struck with guilt. Not at her crime, but at the trouble she caused for her foster parents. "I don't hate you…" Comes out as a soft, scared, weak whisper. "Sorry…" And a few tears flow down the girl's face. No matter how much she might pretend not to care about the foster parents, they are the closest she has to parental figures, and have been for a few years now.
"She is very lucky. Anna needs to really realize how close she came to loosing her life, pulling a stunt like this and in this environment and atmosphere" Aude is looking at Anna as she says this. "As it stands, when Detective Walsh gets here, he will explain some things further, discuss with you some other avenues that you might want to explore, that Anna needs to consider. First off, this is going on her record. This will impact her life." A few papers are flipped, looking for the one that lists the charges.
"She is going to be charged with one count of posession of an improved explosive. One count of reckless engagerment with the intent to cause harm" There's a handful of other charges as well that the policewoman lists off, making sure to make eye contact between them all, her voice like steel. Not little charges either. "There is rumblings from the District Attorney, especially in light of her clearly racist filled appearance on The Advocate, that they will be looking at pursuing this in adult court, which makes the consequences of her actions even more severe."
Officer Aude Castilades does ot knock, but the soft rap of knuckles on the door to the interrogation room precede the arrival of a tall, red-haired man in a buttoned down wool peacoat, not a uniformed officer. He affords a faint smile to officer Castilades before stepping in further to the room and leaving the door partly ajar. "Sorry m'late," has a distinct accent behind it, "m'Detective Daniel Walsh, I've been appointed t'handle yer daughter's case."
Leaving the door open as he walks in, Walsh offers a milder smile to the parents, then a concerned look to Anna. "Officer Castilades, if you wanna' take off an' finish up the paperwork, I can 'andle th' rest'a this." Slowly striding across the room, Detective Walsh furrows his brows and looks down to Anna, then up to her parents.
"M'sorry about all'f this, a'know how hard it can be t'be in yer daughter's shoes. Might no' be quite th' same as growin' up Irish in Chinatown, but s'the closest my generation 'as t'her problems." Sympathetic, Detective Walsh settles himself down on the corner of the long tabel Anna is seated at, looking askance to Aude, then back to the parents, then Anna.
"'Ow'r you doin', lass?" His head ducks, brows raise, smile faint still.
"Could be better." Anna responds to Walsh's question without looking up. She's… surprised, to say the least, by the kindness the detective is offering. "But I bet you could imagine that being the case…" She shrugs, and reaches her head into her shoulder to try to dry her tears a little.
Dismissed, a nod, the woman looks between Anna, parents, Walsh, and heads for the door leaving the file there for walsh to familiarize himself with and go off to do what he indicated. Finish off the paperwork for Anna James.
"So I had m'self a talk with the DA just a little bit ago," Walsh explains as he offers a look up to Anna's parents. "Yer girl's got 'erself in quite a bit of hot water. With what she'd said on the Advocate in public, an' the 'splosives that she'd rigged together… the intent t'cause harm an' the current political climate— the district attourney wants t'make an example of 'er." Walsh's brows furrow, and his attention flicks past the parents to Anna.
"If she's tried as an adult, given th' current state of Martial Law, they're well within their rights t'take her in under th' classification'f an enemy combatant." Those words have Margaret's breath hitching in the back of her throat and Timothy bresthlessly parroting Walsh's words. "She could be sent off t'God knows where 'cause'f this…"
Looking to Anna, however, Walsh's expression belies a certain confidence. "'Owever, I happen t'have th' ear of the mayor an' a few strings I can pull. I had me a son, right 'bout her age, lost him in the explosion back in 06." There's a tight swallow as Detective Walsh looks up to Anna's parents. "A'know what s'like t'lose someone, permanent or no'. So… there's an option, a plea."
"Whatever it is," Margaret jump to the conclusion, "whatever it is Anna will do it. We're— we're not going to— I— " When Margaret finally starts to lose her composure and cry, Timothy moves to her side and slides an arm around her, guiding her head to his shoulder as he offers a worried look up to the detective.
"I can get her charges lowered down t'criminal mischief, there's a five hundred dollar fine associated with it. Provided tha' Borders does'nae press further charges a'course. If I can talk them outta' that, all Anna'd have t'do is undergo seven months of counseling an' be willing to spend 40 hours a'community service."
While this, ultimately, is the parents' decision, Walsh doesn't look to them. He looks to Anna.
"'Ow's that sound?"
"That sounds… pretty reasonable…" Anna seems, well… quite surprised. She hadn't expected anything like this. She had expected jail time by the way Castillades spoke to her. "What kind of community service are we talking about..?" She doesn't care a lot, but she does want to know… "Not that it matters, of course.."
"No, it does not matter," is Timothy's sharp response, "because you're going to do it and you are going to be thankful that Detective Walsh put himself out there for you!" Livid, now, and almost more disappointed than angry, Anna's father struggles to rein in his frustrations, a struggle that he will likely lose once they get out of the police precinct and into the car for the long, loud ride home.
Walsh tries to take the anger in stride, offering a look up to her adoptive father, then back down to Anna. "40 hours'a work at the Suresh Center on Roosevelt Island, workin' with th' Evolved public. Attendin' meetings an' helping out at the center's Evolved Anonymous meetings. S'where you'll be receivin' your counselin' too on account'f yer registered status." Because clearly an Evo can't go to the same therapist as a normal person, his tone indicates politely.
"You might be asked t'do some public servicemessages for th' Department of Evolved Affairs too, 'bout tolerance'a people like yerself. I'll find out th' details an' they'll be passed along t'your family." Walsh folds his hands in his lap, shoulders slouching. "That's th' best I can do for you."
Now that's just cruel, detective Walsh. But Anna just lowers her head and nods, muttering a soft, "Understood, detective Walsh.. I'll do it." The PSA part is especially, especially cruel. "A.. public service announcement, though..?" She sighs, "Is that really necessary?" She knows it's not likely to change, but… "If it is, I'll do it… but I think I've been in the media enough…"
Were they not in police presence, Timothy may just have struck Anna out of anger, for all that his posture says he was about to wind up. "You don't get to question him!" His voice rings off of the walls, "After what you did and after what you have put us through you are lucky you are not going to jail for the rest of your life!"
"Mister Broderick," Walsh offers in an attempt at mediation. "D'you think you an' your wife could go an' see Officer Castilades? There's some paperwork y'need t'both fill out, an I'd like t'take a little time t'talk t'your daughter'ere before you all leave." Brows raising, Walsh looks back and forth between Anna's adoptive parents, watching their slow reactions.
"Fine," is jabbed out from Timothy, and a silent nod of compliance is all Margaret can manage. "You do not back-talk him, do you understand me?" It's Anna's father's warning with a finger jabbed in her direction before both he and Margaret start headed for the door.
As her foster parents depart, Anna looks in their direction until they're entirely out of sight. Then she looks back to Walsh, "What is it?" She asks bluntly, her shoulders sagging even further down. "Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way…"
Walsh casts a crooked look to the door until it closes, then flicks a look back to Anna. "It takes some stones t'say the things you did in public, let alone on television. You ain't th' only person who feels th' way you do, y'know." The sudden change of tone comes with a quieting of Walsh's voice, despite the camera recording this conversation. "M'doing this fer you because I believe tha' you 'ad every right t'be angry at th' people what ruined this fair city'a ours."
Lifting up one hand to scratch at the side of his neck, Walsh's brows furrow. "Yer a good kid, y'just don' know how t'properly express all'a that anger y'got, not w'out people tryin' t'tell ya tha' it ain't right t'feel th' way you do." Brows creased together, Detective Walsh considers Anna thoughtfully, his hand coming away from his neck as he does.
"A'jus' wanted t'say tha' I appreciate yer honesty, but tha' th' next time y'get the bright idea t'light a bookstore on fire, maybe try'n think it through jus' a little bit further 'fore y'do." Sliding off of the table, Walsh affords Anna a long, quiet look, then walks over to her and slides out a key ring from his pocket, unlocking her handcuffs and taking them away.
"C'mon," he insists with a jerk of his head towards the door, "let's go get you outta' here."
That… was not what Anna expected. Not At All. "Thanks, detective Walsh." She says as she gets up, looking at her sore, but free, wrists. The last comment definitely causes some raised eyebrows, two of them in fact, "So, what now, detective…? Just go home with them, and do my community service plus councelling?"
"Sound's about right," Walsh comments off-handedly as he tucks the handcuffs into his jacket pocket. "An't ha' ain't too bad fer now, but y'never know wha'kinda surprises th' future'll bring, darlin'." Walking over to the door, Walsh slowly pulls it open for Anna, a tacit implication of wait and see in the smile spreading across his face.
"T'day is one day," he comments on motioning towards the hall.
"An' y'never know what tomorrow brings."