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Tim stared at the lawyer in front of him. He stared at the lawyer, the prosecution, the defendant, the judge and the jury… he started at the entire wood paneled court room and wished he was anywhere but here.
Jason probably felt quite the same sitting next to him.
Tim had told Bruce that he had it under control, that Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne would be able to deal with the accusations held against him without the Wayne fortune or fame standing behind him. In the long run it was more important to keep Bruce Wayne out of the limelight, and Wayne Enterprises as dissociated as possible to anything that happened in this courtroom over the duration of the trial.
If – and that was a big ‘if’ – Tim actually got convicted, he needed to be sure that Bruce wouldn’t be dragged down with him. Or more importantly, that Lucius, Luke and Tam wouldn’t get dragged down with him either.
And half an hour ago, that ‘if’ had been a whole lot bigger, but now, with the prosecutor, a sturdy man called Mr. Baily, bringing in new evidence and a new witness, Tim almost feared for his own freedom. Especially since he hadn’t committed the crime he was being accused of.
“Let me repeat that, Mr. Baily, yes?” The judge, a woman called Andrea Parsley, asked:
“You found evidence that the man Mr. Drake-Wayne was talking to twelve hours before the demise of your client’s son, Mr. Georg Fender, was the mercenary/vigilante known as the Red Hood? And you had him tracked down?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“And you are sure that the pictures that our prime witness, Mallory Meeks, has presented are depicting said Red Hood during the act of killing Mr. Georg Fender?”
“Yes, your honor.”
Baily was grinning. Or, no, he wasn’t grinning, but the evil twisted smile decorating the corner of his lips sure felt worse than even the most mocking grin would.
Tim tried to refrain from glancing in Jason’s direction. It was hard – he had almost choked on the glass of water he was drinking- when the security officers had brought Jason into the courtroom in handcuffs and with his mask on.
Jason wasn’t supposed to be here.
This was solely a trial against Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, on the accusation of hiring a hit on Georg Fender, owner of Fender Industries, a company WE had been interested in buying. The charges were first degree murder and company espionage. If Tim was lucky, he would get cleared of all charges, if he was unlucky, his lawyers would make a deal and he would lose his job and a part of his fortune, but otherwise he would come out of this ordeal unscathed.
It was sickening to know how broken the system was, how easy it was to escape even the most horrendous of accusations if you had the money and the right lawyers – but right now, with unjust murder charges raised against him, it was the only thing he could do.
The problem was Jason’s presence made it so much harder.
For one, Bruce could no longer help – neither as Batman nor as Bruce Wayne. Because Batman was protecting the Red Hood, and no evidence provided by Gotham’s Dark Knight could be fairly judged anymore, with Jason sharing the dock with him.
And… well, the judge might have let Tim walk away with murder and company espionage, but everything always got so much more convoluted when vigilantes were involved. Especially the Red Hood. Especially a vigilante, who got famous by cutting off the heads of eight drug lords and sending them to the GCPD in a duffel bag.
“And how does this Red Hood figure connect with Mr. Drake-Wayne directly?” The judge continued to ask.
Baily was smiling when he turned around:
“Why don’t we ask the man himself. The prosecution requests permission to ask Mr. Drake-Wayne some questions regarding the evening of the 12th of May.”
“Permission granted.”
Tim had only glanced at his own lawyer, Marie Shepperd, for a moment, seeing her hands tighten, her knuckles turning white, but when he returned his gaze to the courtroom, Baily was standing directly in front of him. Tim didn’t even try to hide his flinch.
Red Robin would have stood firm, but – as Tim had to occasionally remind himself – he wasn’t a hero right now. No, he was a scared, young CEO on the brisk of a murder charge that could destroy his career; and he had to act like it.
“Mr. Drake-Wayne, why don’t you tell us what you were doing on the late afternoon of May 12th?”
“As I said before, and as is noted in my official statement, I was leaving Wayne Enterprises main office at 4pm sharp, since I was trying to get rid of some of my extra hours. On the way towards my car, I got approached by an old friend-“
“Is – sorry for the interruption – but is said friend Mr. Red Hood by any chance?”
Tim swallowed; his eyes unable to not glance at Jason. The man in question had a look of alarmed confusion on his face and Tim had the horrid realization that Jason had been arrested before anyone had even a chance to explain to him what was going on.
Arresting and immediately bringing someone to a courtroom went against every procedure known to man and law, but Gotham had never cared, and it wouldn’t start caring now just because it was Gotham’s heroes that sat on the dock.
Just because it was the Red Hood that they were trying to tie down.
Some dark and twisted part of Tim almost suspected that they were going to be especially harsh because it was the Red Hood.
The real problem, however, was that Tim couldn’t lie. Everyone in the room had seen his glance in Jason’s direction, and even if he could deny it now, Tim was sure that Baily would suddenly produce a witness that could tie the Red Hood to Tim directly.
All he could do was claim Jason to be someone he was not:
“The friend I was meeting was indeed this man, but I am not aware of anything regarding the Red Hood. This is simply an old friend… Todd Petersen.”
Tim really, really hoped that Jason would forgive him for this. And he really, really hoped that he had remembered correctly, and Todd Petersen was one of Jason’s aliases.
The fact that Red Hood’s secret identity was just a semi-secret was the reason why Jason had never been able to rejoin the family officially. Too many pictures of the Red Hood’s early days with Jason pulling the hood off, or him in a leather jacket and a Bat on his chest getting a coffee were fluctuating through the internet – for a long time Jason hadn’t cared who he was behind the mask and now it came back to bite them in the ass.
“Interesting. And how did you come to know this man, Mr. Drake-Wayne?”
But Baily’s last question had pushed Tim’s own lawyer too far. Mrs. Shepperd raised her hand, her voice clear-cut and sharp as she spoke:
“Objection. The prosecution is trying to disregard the fact that the defendant informed us that he is in no way aware of the identity of his acquaintance.”
Maria Shepperd, second generation Irish immigrant, was a cut-throat lawyer, best in her class ten years ago, and best in Gotham right now, if you needed someone honest but good. Her curly hair was always braided to perfection, and Tim hadn’t yet managed to see her without her make-up done perfectly .
Her wife was a friend of Kate, and when the accusations first came in, Bruce had done his best to secure her – they needed someone on their side, and Maria Shepperd was the best you could do.
Sadly, Gotham was often worse than even the best could handle:
“Objection denied. Please continue your questioning, Mr. Baily.”
The judge waved her hand to dismiss Mrs. Shepperd, and motioned for Baily to continue to speak. And Baily did:
“Thank you, your honor. As I was saying – or asking, really – how did you come to know this man, Mr. Drake-Wayne?”
For a moment Tim toyed with saying the truth. What would happen if he claimed that he knew Todd Petersen because Todd was in fact Jason, the dead son of Bruce Wayne. What would happen if he just laid everything out in the open, revealed not only his own vigilante persona, but told the world what had happened many years ago when Bruce Wayne returned from a charity trip to Ethiopia with a dead kid.
Of course, Tim said none of that out loud. Instead he smiled, the action feeling wrong and fake on his face:
“I met Mr. Petersen during an auction about five years ago. We were both trying to acquire the same piece, an antique coin set. Mr. Petersen won, but we talked afterwards – our love for collector items allowing us to form a fast friendship.”
That auction had been the first time Jason had worked with the Batman after his return out of his own free will. It was also the only time Tim could recall spending time with Jason together in a public setting as civilians since the older man had returned from the dead.
The times before that Tim had still been a Drake and Jason had called himself Robin.
His answer made Baily too happy, Tim could see that from the very moment onward he had started to speak. But there was nothing else Tim could have done, his own story forcing him to continue to talk:
“We have met every now and then ever since, often on auctions but also in private. It is not uncommon that we see each other on the street. In many ways Gotham is really just barely more than a town.”
“You see, Mr. Drake-Wayne… when I got the statement from Mr. Red Hood over here, he claimed to have never met you before. So, what is the truth: Are you old friends or did you hire the Red Hood to kill Mr. Fender?”
Baily was a shark swimming in fishing waters. There was so much food around him, and he was sneering, but Tim might just be able to see the net that would finally catch this beast of prey.
Mrs. Shepperd’s voice was sharp as it cut through the courtroom:
“Objection. We have no proof that the Red Hood and Mr. Todd Petersen are the same person. Or that my client was aware of any occurring secret identity Mr. Petersen might have hidden.”
“Objection granted. Mr. Baily, cease your line of questioning.”
Silence fell over the room after Judge Parsley granted Tim and Mrs. Shepperd their retrieve. It would only be a short breather, but Tim would take what he could get.
He had counted on someone breaking the quiet, but he had hoped it would be Baily, or Mrs. Shepperd herself. No, it was Jason, chiming in from his seat behind Tim:
“What the hell? When you asked me if I knew Tim Drake, you were clearly asking the Red Hood if he knew Tim Drake – man, stop twisting your facts! Tim Drake has nothing to do with the Hood!”
“Silence! Mr. … Red Hood! This is a courtroom and you are only going to speak when you are asked to.”
The judge’s voice was harsh, and when Tim glanced at her, he could see that her face was stern as well. Judge Parsley was not a woman of joy or fun or money – she was also one of the least corrupt judges Gotham had to offer, ever since Harvey Dent put a damper on the public image of judges and lawyers.
Baily had stopped smiling, and before he could recover, Mrs. Sheppard raised her hand:
“The defendant requests to put Mr. Red Hood in the witness stand.”
“Request granted.”
Tim watched as Jason was guided towards the front of the room, into a box at the judge’s side. Jason looked put out, and if Jason’s day had progressed like Tim assumed it had, he could definitely understand Jason’s bad mood. Tim himself was also not in the best state of mind – his career and the Wayne name stood one the line here – but at least he hadn’t woken up to someone knocking on his door, arresting him, forcing a statement from him, and then carting him into a courtroom.
Tim had been allowed his own bed, his own suit, his own defense attorney.
Next to him Maria stood up as well, her heels sounding precise as she made her way to the front. She was standing right in front of Jason, something hard in her gaze as she addressed him:
“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I don’t believe in any God there is”
Of course, Jason had to be an asshole, he had to grin and taunt and make everything worse. Mrs. Shepperd didn’t seem to think it was funny either, her tone dropping multiple degrees in warmth:
“What do you believe in then?”
“Pain and Justice.”
There was a tense silence in the courtroom, nobody daring to speak as Jason and Shepperd held eye contact through one mask and a thousand secrets. Mrs. Shepperd repeated herself:
“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?”
“I swear.”
“Good. Are you, Mr. Red Hood, by any chance the man my client knows as Todd Petersen?”
“Yes.”
Jason wasn’t smiling now, and Tim knew why: This was going to be hard. One misstep and their entire future would be gone. It wasn’t just Tim’s life on the line anymore, but Jason’s as well – and the secret identities of their entire family, and possibly the entire superhero community.
“Was my client at any point in your relationship aware that you were also partaking in the life of a vigilante?”
“No.”
“Are you aware that being a vigilante is a punishable offence under the Gotham City law since the year 1998, filed under the section Protection and Law Enforcement, 17b?”
“Yes.”
There was something dangerous in Jason’s gaze, and Tim could only tell because he knew the man. Jason was being pushed farther and farther than he was being comfortable with, and Tim feared that Jason would explode at one point. It would be ugly – and it could destroy them both.
Shepperd continued:
“Are you admitting to being the vigilante the Red Hood, who is wanted for violations of the Protection and Law Enforcement Act 17b, and at least eight counts of murder?”
Jason would be forced to say yes. He would be forced to say yes and nothing Tim could do would stop that. Because Jason was all these things, and while an oath might not bind him, the fact that he had basically admitted being the Red Hood earlier would force his hand.
No matter what happened next, the Red Hood would be convicted.
“Yes.”
Jason’s voice was small, but cold – oh, so, cold.
They were fucked. They were royally fucked, and it was his own lawyer that had pushed Tim into this hole, in an effort to clear his charges.
And, yes, Shepperd had just signed Jason’s death warrant – until the man got a trial of his own it would be unclear if figuratively or literally – but she wasn’t done yet:
“Thank you. Now, what is your version of the events taking place on May 12th during the late afternoon?”
Jason sent a look in Tim’s direction that spoke of the anger cursing through Jason’s veins. Tim could understand his rage and his confusion, but he himself only had room for dread. Dread about what this would mean for Wayne Enterprises, dread about what this would mean for Lucius, Luke and Tam. Dread about what this would mean for him.
“Um, okay. I was… I was getting a cup of coffee in the coffee shop opposite of WE, when I saw Tim leave. And… I know how overworked he usually is, so I thought to myself ‘Hood, the world must be ending, because you just saw little Timmy Drake leave early’. I went and checked it out. He was standing by his car, toying with the keys, when I greeted him. He jumped half a foot in the air, I swear, and then we talked.”
“You talked about what?”
“What do I know? This was months ago! Probably the weather, and how old man Wayne is doing, or whether or not the stock market is going to do well this year!”
Jason’s fists were clenched, and yet his voice hadn’t risen. Jason’s composure was hanging on the barest threads and Tim feared what would happen should they break – and they would break soon.
Especially since Tim knew Jason was lying. Of course, he was – they had talked about a case involving Poison Ivy and Killer Croc, their voices tight, their discussion tense. But it was bad enough that the world now knew that Todd Petersen was the Red Hood, nobody needed to know that Red Robin was the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.
“Objection. Red Hood knows what they were talking about, your honor.”
Baily had found his footing again, the smarmy guy smiling, as he asked for the right to speak.
Judge Parsley had nothing of it:
“Can you prove that Mr. Baily?”
“Not yet, your honor, but a concrete line of questioning could easily lead to a more objective answer.”
“You can question him as soon as the defendant is done, Mr. Baily. We have procedures here.”
With a frown Baily took his seat next to his clients again. The Fender Family had hired Mr. Baily since he was one of the best prosecutors Gotham had to offer – but that didn’t change the fact that the man was oily as heck and had a gambling problem half the mafia knew how to use.
If Tim had been allowed to investigate they would have probably found the real murderer by now, and Tim wouldn’t even have to sit here and listen as people declared him a criminal… but Tim had been under surveillance from the first day onwards the allegations had been made, and Batman had found nothing of substance regarding the man they all knew had killed Georg Fender.
Because Tim had recognized the person in the pictures from Mallory Meeks, hell, their entire family had recognized that mask: The Red X. A mercenary slash vigilante/villain that had terrorized the Titans once upon a time.
A villain that looked suspiciously like the Red Hood if the quality of the picture was bad enough.
“Could you elaborate on what happened next, Mr. Red Hood?”
Shepperd continued, her line of questioning never wavering, her resolve stronger than even the Batman.
“We talked for some time, I guess, and then this man came running towards us. He was tall, could be described as handsome, but he was yelling, so… yeah, not the best first impression.”
“Was that man, the victim Georg Fander?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know his name? He started screaming as soon as he reached us – he sure as hell didn’t stop for introductions.”
“Objection!”
Tim forced himself to not roll his eyes. It wouldn’t help his case if he appeared bratty or annoyed. No, he had to remain calm and collected, even as Baily did his best to destroy Jason’s and Tim’s lives.
“What now, Mr. Baily?”
“I demand that my client’s son is represented respectfully.”
A moment of silence before the judge turned around to address Jason:
“Please call the victim by his proper name from now on, Mr. Red Hood.”
Jason nodded, but Tim could see the tensions rising. Jason was an intelligent and genuine person – when he wasn’t caught in depths of green rage and pain – but he never really warmed up to the stiff proceedings of the law and its servants.
“Please continue.”
“Yeah, so, the man came towards us screaming. Sorry, Mr. Fander came and yelled at us. I don’t remember what exactly he was saying anymore, but I think it was about the deal Wayne Enterprises had offered Fender Industries. He was angry, said that these conditions were unusable and-“
Now Jason was grinning, and Tim wasn’t the only one that noticed. Mrs. Shepperd was quick when she asked:
“What do you find so humorous, Mr. Red Hood?”
“Well, I still remember Tim’s clapback. He told Mr. Fander in no uncertain terms, that Wayne Enterprises would think about better terms as soon as Fander Industries managed to pay its workers a proper living wage. Little Timmy was downright savage.”
You could hear a needle drop in the silence that had followed Jason’s statement. Tim had tried to keep the details as vague as possible without appearing suspicious in all of his statements and reports, but even he couldn’t deny the gratification that overcame him when Jason shared that tidbit.
Everyone always acted as if Tim was the only enemy Fander might have had. But, no, the man had employed his workers with contracts full of restriction clauses, and the environmental problems caused by his company were noticeable at least – Tim had planned on buying Fander Industries in a last attempt to pay these people a fair wage and to save what was salvageable.
He couldn’t be the only one Georg Fander had pissed off.
“Mr. Red Hood, one last question from the defendant: Did you kill Georg Fander for my client’s sake? And remember you are under an oath.”
“No. I didn’t kill him at all. But I sure as hell wouldn’t have done it for Tim. I have standards.”
Jason’s grin was full of teeth, and chaos broke out in the courtroom. The twenty people the judge had allowed into the room as witnesses were chattering loudly, the jury was conversing with each other, Baily was trying to explain something to his clients…. It was a mess.
The judge’s hammer broke the noise in two, creating silence in its echo:
“Silence! This is a courtroom not a disco hall!”
Judge Parsley took a long look at the room before she spoke next:
“Since it is almost lunch, I would say we can all use a break of an hour. This trial will continue 2pm sharp, and I want order in the courtroom when we all come back.”
Their holding cells were facing each other. Tim wasn’t above using that for his convenience:
“What the hell, Petersen?”
Laws forbade surveillance equipment in holding cells and waiting areas during a court trial or hearing, but Tim didn’t trust the Gotham law enforcement further than he could throw it. It was always better to be cautious than to give the prosecution even more ammunition against them.
So, code names it was.
“Why am I the one being ‘What-The-Hell-ed’ at? Like, fuck, Tim… when I heard you were being put on trial, I thought it was a standard case of tax fraud. I didn’t know it was murder!”
The horrible thing was, Tim felt almost inclined to believe Jason. Because Red Hood might work with Batman now, and Jason even graced the Manor with his presence during the occasional Sunday lunch, he was still keeping his distance. Jason’s main contacts with the family were the surveillance Batman ran on him, and the outings Dick forced him on.
Jason had no interest in the woes of Tim’s life.
And now he was here, being put on trial for murder and more, completely out of the blue.
“It… okay, Petersen, look. I… I got framed for this.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“Shut up. I got framed for this, and before you appeared the accusations were mostly built on circumstantial evidence. They had pictures of a man, who vaguely looked like the Red Hood, killing Georg Fander, and they had a motive for me: Company espionage and the fact that Fander didn’t like my offer regarding Fander Industries.”
“I didn’t do it!”
Jason sounded angry, and Tim couldn’t even blame him. Jason’s murder spree back in the early days of the Red Hood was still something their entire family struggled with, especially Jason himself, who tried to put the entire thing behind him. The Red Hood hadn’t killed anyone in years – and now they wanted to convict him for a murder he hadn’t committed.
“I know. But we can’t prove that. Or at least… I don’t know how we can prove that.”
“What happens if you lose? If the jury decides that you hired me to kill that dude, just because he said no?"
"I’ll lose my job. Wayne Enterprises is gonna be put under a whole more scrutiny, they might lose stock and have to let people go… I would go to prison, most likely. A good prison with relative amounts of freedom, but prison, nonetheless. And you… you would get your very own court case, and jail until then.”
Jason fell silent opposite him. Both of them were pondering their chances and their losses. What could they do? Tim had told Shepperd everything he could share with her, and for the most part, the evidence was circumstantial and not enough to really convict anyone; but Jason was the Red Hood, and the jury – almost exclusively consisting of the Gotham middle class – did not look favorable on the existence of that particular vigilante.
“It was the victim’s family.”
“What?”
Jason’s face was set in stone, when he repeated his statement:
“It was the victim’s family. Fander’s parents had their son killed by that Red Hood double.”
“And how on earth do you come to that conclusion?”
“The way they looked at me when I entered the room. They knew I wasn’t the person they had hired to kill. They were frightened – but not because the Red Hood had just entered the room, but because they knew they had miscalculated.”
Jason could read people with a precision that was almost scary, and yet…
“And why would they have done that? People don’t usually kill their kids.”
“Why are you asking me? I didn’t even know they existed before a fucking SWAT commando crashed through my door this morning.”
With a sigh Tim let his back rest against the cold concrete wall of the cell. If Jason was right – and why would Jason be lying in a situation like this? – maybe they had a chance. But first, Tim needed to figure out the motive. After a moment of concentration, it wasn’t even all that hard:
“Georg Fander had his parents removed from the board of directors two years ago, claiming them to be unfit to be in charge of a company and the important decisions that come with it. It is most certainly a motive… but a weak one. Parents really rarely kill their children – I am not sure if a jury would believe us.”
Jason mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “most parents might not – unless they sell you to the fucking Joker” but Tim chose to ignore that. There was no time to unpack Jason’s trauma bucket right now.
Tim continued:
“But if you are right, that would explain the weird coincidence of Mallory Meeks being exactly where she needed to be, to catch a vigilante in the act of killing with her camera… they planted her there. Oh my God… They planted her there! Ja- Mr. Petersen! This might be it!”
Tim was elated. They had cracked the case! They had done it! They had fucking done it!
“And how do we prove that to the judge? What do we have: My claim to not have done it after I admitted to multiple counts of murder, my gut feeling that the family of the victim is being a bitch, the fact that the key witness was in a very convenient spot… that is nothing Tim. Nothing at all.”
Some of the exuberant energy Tim had experienced ebbed away, when Jason’s words registered. But Tim was not ready to give up yet. No, he was anything but ready to be beaten:
“Let that be my problem.”
“Oh, it totally is.”
They were entering the courtroom, Mrs. Shepperd firm by his side, when Tim turned around to address her:
“Please request Mrs. Meeks in the witness stand and ask her under oath if she has ever met Mr. Roderick Fander before. Or his wife.°
She looked at him and smiled:
“I can do that, Mr. Drake-Wayne, I can do that.”