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Captain Olivia Benson’s Office

16th Precinct

10:36 AM 

Monday, February 21, 2022

It had been a couple of months after the Wheatley case—Barba had performed a miracle and managed to convince a jury that Richard Wheatley was innocent of killing Katherine Stabler. 

Olivia and Barba had parted ways awkwardly, exchanging a long stare across the courtroom, Olivia joining Amanda, Fin, Carisi, and Elliot’s team in restraining Elliot from attacking Rafael.

As she sat in her office, between doing paperwork, she mulled over the look she and Rafael had exchanged.

A scant four years ago, a win would have stoked a fire in his green eyes, but this time, he seemed almost sad to win.

Perhaps Rafael knew that the man he was defending wasn’t worth the air he breathed in his defense.

But that wasn’t what disturbed her.  

It was the look of resignation that lingered behind the sadness she could see.

Perhaps he was resigning himself to the idea that their friendship was over, but while Olivia definitely felt deeply hurt, and yes, betrayed, the years of their friendship couldn’t be wiped away by one decision, as crazy as it was, so she was still concerned.

She glanced at her cellphone, debating whether to call or text him, just to ask how he was doing, when a knock sounded on the door.

Olivia looked up to see Fin standing in the door of her office, a strange look on his face.

“What is it, Fin?”

“Uh, Liv, I’m.”  Fin stammered, lost for words, which made an icy shiver run down her spine.  

Her Sergeant, in all the years she’d known him, he’d never been lost for words unless something really bad happened.

She took a shaky breath, her voice coming out barely above a whisper.  “Who—who is it?”

Fin seemed to gather himself, approaching her desk.

Her heart was racing, her breath beginning to come hard and fast.

“Queens Homicide called.  They found a body.  Liv, I’m sorry, but it’s—it’s Barba.”

She gasped, tears beginning to form as she lurched out of her chair, snatching her keys on the way, running for the elevator.

Fin followed her, Olivia not paying attention to the concerned looks on Amanda and Velasco’s faces.

As she was madly dashing down the corridor to the elevator, she tripped, her ankle still not 100%.  

Fin caught her in his arms, holding her to him as she began to silently cry.

“Let me go, Fin, I have to see him,” she whispered.

“I know, I know.  I’ll take you, you can’t drive like this, Liv.  Come on.”

She was silent the whole drive to the crime scene, her legs wooden as she stepped out of the squad car, letting Fin handle things so that they could enter the scene.

When a patrol officer finally lifted the tape, the Detective assigned approached, ushering them inside.

Mindlessly, she approached the plastic sheet beneath which she knew, lay Rafael’s body.

The detective halted her steps, making her look up, the young Asian man balking slightly at the fire burning in her eyes.

“Captain, it’s, it’s not pretty.  I don’t think you want to see this, especially if Mr. Barba was your friend.”

“All the more reason I have to see him,” Liv rasped, pushing past him, kneeling down on the cold pavement, her hand shaking as she extended it to the sheet.

She braced herself, determined not to break down in front of everyone, no matter what she saw.  She was strong enough to keep it together until she was in private.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted the sheet, unable to help a gasp.

Rafael was almost unrecognizable, as battered and bruised as he was.  The only consolation she had was that the bullet to the head ended his pain quickly.

She bowed her head, placing back the sheet gently before rising to her feet shakily, turning to face the detective.

“What do you think’s the motive?”  She managed to speak.

“Looks like a robbery for all intents and purposes, Captain; his wallet, watch, cuff links, and car keys were taken, and this is a rough part of town.  We’re still trying to figure out what he was doing here, if he had any family or friends in the area.”

“No, he has no family here, and his friends that I know of are in Manhattan.  Did you notify his mother?”

“Not yet, Captain.  Do you want to be one to deliver the notice?”

She nodded, “I think that would be best.”  Just then, a thought occurred to her, “How did you know to call Manhattan SVU?”

“When we ran his prints through the porta-scanner, it came up in the database that you and a Lucia Barba were his emergency contacts.  I figured it would be best to call the NYPD Captain before his mother.”

She swallowed, the fact that she was one of his emergency contacts striking her deeply.  “Thank you, Detective.”  And Olivia turned away, walking determinedly to the car, Fin trailing behind her.

When Fin fell into step with her, she said, “No way was this a robbery.  This was Wheatley, I know it was.”

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but what makes you think so?  Barba was the one who got him free.  He’d have no reason to kill Barba.”

“I don’t know, but I know he’s the one behind this,” she whispered, running a hand through her hair, leaning against the squad car.

“Let me take you home, Liv, you need to—”

“No, we—I have to tell Lucia.  We have to tell her.”

“I can do it, Liv.”

“No.  No, I owe it to Lucia and I owe it to Rafael to tell her myself.”

“Alright, alright.”

They went back into the squad car, heading to Lucia’s apartment.

She felt tired, so tired, once the two of them arrived at Lucia’s apartment, but she mustered the strength to knock on the door.

“Coming!”  Came from inside the apartment, and soon, the door opened.

“Olivia.  What is it?”

“Lucia.  I—” she found that everything she wanted to say caught in her throat, so the only thing she managed to say was, “I’m so sorry.”

Lucia frowned before her face fell, as she took a step back, shaking her head.  “No, he—it’s not—he can’t be.  I—I just saw him two days ago.  He’s alright, Olivia, he’s alright.”

Tears began to well up again in Olivia’s eyes, as she approached the older woman.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Lucia sobbed as she collapsed into Olivia’s arms, Olivia bracing Lucia’s weight as they sank to the floor, the mother’s anguish washing over the Captain as she screamed, “mi hijo!  Mi hijo, Dios, mi hijo!”

“I’m so sorry, Lucia,” Olivia murmured as she rocked them back and forth.

Captain Olivia Benson’s Apartment

Manhattan 

9:17 PM 

Wednesday, February 23, 2022

Olivia was still processing everything, having taken Fin’s offer to hold down the proverbial fort, to give her some time to recover, when a knock sounded at her door.

She jumped at the sound, her hand immediately on her gun as she crept to the door, looking through the peephole.

She sighed, putting her gun down on the small table by the door before opening it to reveal a red-eyed Rita Calhoun.

“Rita,’” Olivia cleared her throat, “what brings you here?”

Strangely, Rita glanced down both ends of the corridor before whispering, “Can I come in?”

Olivia moved aside, ushering the lawyer inside.

Rita went to the sofa, waiting for Olivia to return before speaking.

“I have a message for you, from Rafael.”

“What?”  Olivia gasped.

“Two and a half weeks ago, Rafael messaged me, begging me to meet him in New Jersey.

He had me jump through so many hoops to make sure I wasn’t followed, I knew something was up.

We met in this back alley bar in the middle of Trenton, and he gave me this,” she said, pulling out a fancy-looking flash drive from her purse.

Olivia carefully took it, turning it over in her hands.

Rita continued, “He told me, ‘Rita, promise me.  Promise me, that if anything happens to me, you’ll give this to Olivia.’.  

I begged him to tell me what he was into, but he refused to tell me, saying that me having the drive was dangerous enough, and he wouldn’t put anyone else he cared about in more danger.”

“I’m sorry, Rita, but why you?”  Olivia frowned.

She smiled sadly.  “We were best friends in Harvard.  He—we both promised we’d be there for each other if we ever needed anything, even if… if it wasn’t strictly legal.  

And he called that in.

I prayed I wouldn’t have to give this to you, but… anyway,” she sniffled, swiping at her eyes, then said, standing, “I should go, you should see whatever’s on that as soon as possible.”

Olivia stood as well, following the attorney to the door, picking up her gun on the way, putting her hand out as Rita reached for the door.

Rita halted as Olivia cautiously opened the door, looking down both ends of the corridor as she had done, before walking her to her car, telling the other woman to message her once she got home for her own safety, Rita declining the patrol car Olivia had offered to escort her back home.

Once she returned to her apartment, Olivia pulled out her laptop and plugged the flash drive in as she sat down on the couch.

To her surprise, a prompt box launched, stating, “Drive will permanently lock within one minute: please enter answer.

What are you going to be doing when you’re eighty-five?”

Olivia chuckled waterily as she typed in, “Squabbling with you.”

The drive unlocked, revealing dozens upon dozens of files, but her gaze landed on the first one, which was marked, “To Liv”.

Her finger trembled as she clicked on the file, which launched a video, that same finger pressing play.

It showed Rafael, sitting at what was likely his desk, leaning back in his chair, wearing his usual shirt, tie, and suspenders.  

He looked even more drawn and tired than he had in the courtroom, but he looked happy, and almost like the old Rafael she knew, odd as that was.

“Liv,” he said solemnly, “if you’re watching this, I’m dead.”

She put a hand to her mouth, tears already welling up.

“I’m sorry for… everything, for being the… pendejo I had to be in court, for betraying your trust.

There’s a reason for it all, but before I get into that, I want to apologize for everything.  Please forgive me.”

“Of course, of course, Rafa,” she whispered.

“Now, for my reasons.

I’d been watching the Wheatley case ever since it landed in the news, and I always had a bad feeling about it.  Even out in the boonies, I still had friends willing to provide information.  After all, that courthouse still leaks like a sieve.”

Olivia couldn’t help a laugh, recalling a conversation they had years ago.

“Carisi, he’s a good—dare I say it, a great lawyer, I taught him well, but with the way your old partner had been handling things, I knew that even a lousy defense attorney like Buchanan would be able to get Wheatley free.

So I decided I wasn’t about to let that happen.

I put my name out to the right, or wrong people, depending on your perspective, and I got myself hired as his lawyer.

I know you’re wondering how on earth my plan was supposed to work, as I did get him free, but let me explain.

And to do that, I have to go on a tangent.

Three months before the Wheatley trial, I started having terrible migraines almost every day, the kind where you have to lie down or pass out from the pain.

I thought it was stress at first, but I went to the doctor, and I got diagnosed.

I have a stage three inoperable brain tumor.

I am… was terminally ill.”

Olivia gasped.  “Oh, Rafa.”  She had a sickening feeling where this was going.

“I’m lucky that it didn’t affect my memory or my personality, but, God, it’s painful,”  he offhandedly said, as he rubbed his temple, squinting.

She greatly admired that he’d been able to work (despite the results of that work), even through that probably-constant pain.

He laughed bitterly, “When I decided to defend Wheatley, I knew that at the end of this, there was a chance you’d hate me, but I was willing to take that chance, because I knew that when I was done with him, he’d never see the light of day again.

So when I became his lawyer, I asked for complete access to his files, to his contacts, everything, saying that I needed to know everything he did, even the unsavory things, in order to get around Carisi.

I compiled so much evidence against him, Liv, everything Carisi needs to take him down, and it’s no longer fruit of the poisonous tree because I’m the one who got it.  

And it’s all here, the fricking mother lode.

I’ve probably violated every ethics rule out there, probably—likely—violated attorney-client privilege, and I…” he chuckled wryly, continuing, “I should probably be disbarred for all this, but like I said, if you’re watching this, I’m dead, so it doesn’t matter, and I can’t bring myself to care, really, not if it takes Wheatley down.”

She pressed a hand to her heart, feelings coming at her too quickly to register.

“My plan never involved blackmailing Wheatley, you should tell Carisi that, and… if my plan went according to plan, there should be… should be footage here on the drive that you shouldn’t watch alone, which will make that abundantly clear.

I just made it obvious to Wheatley that I knew too many things, things that even if I kept it under attorney-client privilege, would be too risky for someone outside of his organization to know.

I don’t know how Wheatley will do me in, but I’m sure it won’t be pretty, and… just promise me that you won’t watch it alone, okay?”

“I promise,” she cried brokenly, knowing that somewhere, somehow, on this drive, there was footage of Rafael’s murder.

Rafael sighed, smiling tenderly.  “Again, I’m sorry, so sorry for everything, Liv.

I don’t want you to feel bad about my death, okay?

I went out the way I always wanted to—fighting for justice, not wasting away in a hospital bed, and I would always make the choice to do this, but… if I could have done it without hurting you, I would take that opportunity in a heartbeat.

My having to hurt you to do this is a regret I will take to my grave, and if I died without us speaking after that travesty of justice I had a hand in, if we don’t speak up to my death, that is also a regret that I will take to my grave, because I know that was my fault, since I betrayed and hurt you.

I wish we could’ve ended up squabbling at eighty-five, Liv.”

“Me too,” she nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“But I will always treasure each and every moment we did have, and please, please forgive me for saying this, but… you will… you will always be one of the great loves of my life, Olivia Benson,” he smiled, tears beginning to well over.

“Oh, Rafael, I forgive you, I forgive you for everything, if you had just said something years ago…” Olivia sobbed, letting the thought trail off.

“One last thing.  I want you to promise me that you’ll be happy, alright?

Allow yourself to be happy.  I saw the way Detective Stabler looks at you, and while I certainly don’t think he deserves an amazing woman like you, I saw the way you look at him.”

“I promise to try,” she nodded.

“I… I don’t quite know how to end this, but… well.

We’ll always have Forlini’s.

Goodbye, Liv.”

And his hand reached towards the screen before it went black.

Olivia allowed herself to break down, quietly sobbing as she held onto a pillow, riding out the emotions.

Once she pulled herself together, she picked up her phone, telling Fin, Amanda, and Carisi to come immediately to her apartment.

About forty-five minutes later, everyone was gathered in her living room, surrounding the laptop.

“What’s going on, Liv?”  Fin asked her.

After Olivia explained what happened that evening, she launched the drive again, showing the countless amount of files on it, which made Fin’s jaw drop, Amanda gasp, and Carisi mutter under his breath, “Son of a bitch.”

He turned to Liv, saying, “This—this is everything we need to take him down.”

“That’s exactly what he said.  Rafael told me to tell you that he never blackmailed Wheatley, so that it can’t be used to discredit the information.”

He shook his head, guilt-stricken, “We should’ve known something was up—we should’ve—”

Olivia put her hand on his shoulder, “Don’t beat yourself up, Carisi, I—I didn’t see it either, and Rafael was my best friend.

According to Rafael, there’s footage here of his death—I don’t know how, and he made me promise not to watch it alone.”

Amanda put her hand on hers, saying, “We don’t have to do this tonight, Liv.”

Fin nodded, “Yeah, Liv, you’re still—”

Olivia gently cut them off, “Thank you for your concern, I appreciate it very much, but… regardless of when I watch this, it’s still going to be hard.  I’d rather see it already.”

“If that’s what you want, Liv, we’re here for you,” Fin said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, all of you.”

They all sent her encouraging smiles and murmured words of support.

“I found the folder, it… it wasn’t hard to find when it’s labeled “My Murder”.  I haven’t opened it yet.  I waited for you.”

She opened the file and there were dozens of MP4 files in the folder, but the first one was marked “Watch Me First”, so Olivia clicked on that one.

It showed Rafael sitting again at his desk, and it seemed to be the same day as when he recorded his message to her.

“Hey guys.

If you’re watching this, I’m dead.

Hopefully, Olivia kept her promise—I trust she kept her promise, anyway—and you’re all here with her, and I’m sure she’s explained everything.

I want to apologize to all of you, I was a right asshole in court, and I said things that… I can’t take any of it back, the hurt and… everything else, but I’m sorry, I’m sorry for it all.

Fin, I’ve never told you this, but you always reminded me of my favorite uncle, my Tío Pablo, who died when I was ten, and hearing your quips would always make me chuckle, even if I didn’t show it.

Amanda, you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, and I am very glad that you’re happy—don’t deny it, I’ve seen the way you and Carisi look at each other, it’s somehow even more sappy than when I was ADA.  You two are far from subtle.

Carisi.  I told you before that you really have become a lawyer.  I… think I should’ve been more direct in what I said.  I am very proud of you, and while I know that I can hardly take all the credit for who you’ve become, since you got to where you are on your own merit, I couldn’t help but feel mentorly pride when I saw you in the courtroom.

If it’s any consolation, I hated winning against you, and I wish you could have won the Wheatley case.

I’ve compiled everything you need to bury Wheatley, and I hope you don’t have to recuse yourself.

You’re one of only two people I trust to prosecute my murder—Jack McCoy being the other one.”

He sighed before continuing, leaning forward, placing both of his forearms on the desk.

“Now.

This footage might be hard to watch—I don’t know how Wheatley’s going to do me in, but I don’t think it’s going to be pretty.

When I implemented the second part of my plan, I began to wear a micro-camera, hidden in a tie pin which would upload twenty-four hours of footage every day to this cloud-enabled flash drive.

I knew no one would think it weird, my constantly wearing a suit so I could always wear the tie pin, aside from when I’d charge it while I took a shower—my reputation as a workaholic is well known.”

He frowned, considering.  “It’s kind of depressing now that I think about it, actually.

Anyway…”

He sent a sad smile to the camera before finally saying, “Nail the bastard to the wall, will you?

Thanks, guys.

Hasta la vista, amigos.”

Olivia fought tears again, while Fin had as sad of an expression as she had ever seen on him, Amanda had tears in her eyes as she clutched Carisi’s hand where it lay on her shoulder, and Carisi’s jaw was clenched as tears began to slip from his eyes.

The videos were marked according to date, so it wasn’t that hard to guess which video captured Rafael’s death, and the ME had established estimated time of death as between 8:00-11:00 PM.

Olivia fast forwarded through the video, putting it to the start of the window of his death, and about an hour into the TOD window, Rafael was walking down the street when two men leapt out of a van that pulled up next to the curb where he was walking back to his apartment, placed a black sack over his head, and pushed him into said van.

After a twenty minute drive, he was shoved out, and dragged into an empty warehouse where Wheatley was standing, a sadistic smile on his face.

The bag was removed from Rafael’s face and he was kicked in the back of the knees to kneel before Wheatley.

“Wheatley,” Rafael gasped, “what is this?  If you wanted to talk, you could have just called, you know,” he spoke, the cocky-as-hell smirk audible in his voice.

“Rafael,” Wheatley said, “it’s good to see you.  

We need to talk.”

“I gathered.”

“You got me acquitted from killing Kathy Stabler, and I thank you for that, but I’m sorry to tell you that I can’t allow you to live after tonight—you just know too much.

It’s not personal, it’s just business, Rafael; you’re a decent person, and you never should have taken my case.”

Wheatley nodded, and his goons descended on Rafael, inflicting the numerous bruises Olivia had seen on his body.

The sight and sound of fists and boots striking him was almost too much, but Olivia forced herself to watch—she owed it to him.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Wheatley stepped forward, putting on a pair of gloves as he took out a gun.

He gestured, and the goons moved back, as he planted the tip of his shoe into Rafael’s shoulder, turning him onto his back.

“Well, this is it, Rafael, any last words?”

“Tell me… was it worth it?  Killing everyone you did?  Killing Kathy Stabler?  Killing me?”  Rafael rasped, his voice broken.

Wheatley crouched down, speaking lowly, “I’d kill them and you all over again in a heartbeat.”

He stood, checking the safety of the gun, before pulling the trigger.

Olivia flinched as the gunshot sounded, the sound tinny through her laptop speaker.

“Damn,” Wheatley spoke.  “Got his blood on my shoe.  This is my favorite too.  Take care of this mess, Jenson, remember to take his things, make it look like a mugging gone wrong.”

A rough “Yes, boss,” came from off screen, as two of the goons began to pick up his body.

Olivia stopped the video, running a hand through her hair, trying to keep her breathing even as Fin wrapped an arm around her, while Amanda and Carisi were wrapped around each other, both taking comfort from the other.

“Please tell me that’s enough to get Wheatley, Carisi,” Olivia whispered.

“More than,” he replied, his voice shaking with anger.

Richard Wheatley’s Residence

Upper East Side, Manhattan 

7:53 AM 

Thursday, February 24, 2022

It was with great relish that Olivia pounded on Wheatley’s door, shouting, “RICHARD WHEATLEY, NYPD, OPEN UP!!!!”

Just as Olivia was about to give the permission to use the battering ram, the thick oaken door opened, revealing the man himself.

“Captain Benson, Sergeant Tutuola, this is harassment.  I was acquitted, you know very well the principle of double jeopardy,” he silkily said.

Not bothering to hide her smile, she said, “Not if we’re charging you with a new crime, and we have an arrest warrant for you.”

“Oh?  Who’d I kill this time?  Jimmy Hoffa?”

“No.  Rafael Barba.”

For a split second, she saw the alarm in the man’s eyes before it was quickly swept away with a dismissive, “While Mr. Barba’s death is certainly a tragedy, what on earth makes you think I would kill the man who got me acquitted?  I have no reason to kill him—if anything I would be grateful.”

“Enough talking, Wheatley, turn around,” she said, a dangerous edge beginning to creep into her tone.

Wheatley sighed, before turning around, as he said, “I’ll be out in time to have a delicious lunch at Forlini’s, Captain.”

Olivia’s jaw clenched as he said that—she had a thousand things she would have loved to tell the son of a bitch, especially after that comment, but she held her tongue as she cuffed Wheatley, not wanting to do anything that could even remotely affect the case, especially not after all Rafael did to make sure he went down.

She’d see Richard Wheatley in jail if it was the last thing she did.

Our Lady of Charity Roman Catholic Church

9:00 AM 

Thursday, March 3

“Thank you for being here for me, Olivia,” Lucia whispered as they watched the staff from the funeral home place Rafael’s closed casket before the altar of Lucia’s parish, Noah quietly sitting a couple of pews behind the two of them.

“Of course, Lucia, it’s the least I can do,” she said, placing her hand on the older woman’s.

It was an hour before the funeral, and thirty minutes before the guests were going to arrive, and they just sat there in silence, Lucia’s fingers idly running over her rosary.

When they had been sitting for about fifteen minutes, Lucia shifted to face her.

“I have something for you, Olivia.”

“What?  You didn’t have to do that—” 

“I want to,” Lucia sadly smiled.

She dug through her purse, tossing the ends of her black lace veil out of the way, and pulled out a small red velvet box, handing it to Olivia.

She carefully opened the box, revealing a simple gold cross on a matching chain.

“I gave this to Rafael on his First Holy Communion.”

Olivia’s jaw dropped.  “I can’t take this—” 

“You can and you will, Olivia.  I think he’d want you to have it.  

When he was a boy, he’d never take it off, but when he got older… well, you know about my husband.  I knew when he took it off, that he didn’t believe as much as he used to, at the least.

I wondered if he ever put it back on, sometimes.  If he ever believed like before.

When the Coroner’s Office released his body, and they gave me his personal effects, this was among them.

They told me he died wearing it.

It might not make sense to you since you’re not Catholic, but I believe he died with God, and it brings me comfort knowing he died wearing this.

You do not have to wear it, I know it may seem morbid—”

“I’d be honored to wear it, Lucia, if you’re sure you want to give it to me,” Olivia cut her off.

“I am sure,” she smiled sadly, clasping her hands around Olivia’s.  “May I… may I put it on you?”

Olivia nodded, handing the box back.

Lucia reverently took the cross out of the box, unclasping the ends.

Olivia turned, glad her hair was already put up in a chignon, the weight of the cross settling on her sternum.

Turning back, she spoke, “I’ll always wear it, Lucia, and though I certainly don’t need it to remember Rafael, whenever I touch it, I will always remember my best friend, a good man, who died in the pursuit of justice.”

Lucia smiled tearfully, pulling the police Captain into a tight embrace.

As they again faced the altar and the casket, after a beat, Lucia spoke once more.

“As painful as this is, I am happy he didn’t die a lingering death.”

Olivia looked at her, surprised; she hadn’t known his mother knew Rafael was dying.

“Yes, he told me he was dying, told me his plan.  I hated it at first, but now I realize that it was better this way.  I only wish we had more time together.”

Lucia pulled a tissue from her purse, dabbing her eyes.

“But Olivia, please promise me that my son’s murderer will face justice,” she said lowly, a familiar fire in her eyes that she had seen in Rafael’s own many times over the years.

Olivia twisted in her seat, taking both of Lucia’s hands in her own.

“Lucia, I promise you, your son’s murderer will not go unpunished, Rafael made sure of that, and Richard Wheatley will rot in prison if it’s the last thing I do,” she promised.

The other woman nodded, her tears falling, “I know, I trust you, and I trust the Lord.”

Several minutes later, people began to file in, many of them approaching Lucia to offer their condolences, friends from Harvard, Rita among them, interspersed with people from the DA’s office, people who knew him from El Barrio, some victims whose cases he’d prosecuted, all of whom Olivia still remembered, and the team, Fin with Phoebe, Amanda and Carisi entering arm in arm.

Lucia’s eyes lit up when Carisi introduced himself to her, saying, “Finally, I meet you, Mr. Carisi, my son always spoke very highly of you.”

“I wish we met under different circumstances, Mrs. Barba,” he nodded respectfully.  “Your son was my mentor, and I learned a great deal from him—I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She reached out, taking his hand, “Please call me Lucia, Mr. Carisi.”

“Only if you call me Dominick, or Sonny.”

“Alright then, Dominick.”

After he and Amanda made their way to a pew on the other aisle, a shadow again fell over Olivia and Lucia.

Olivia looked up, and to her surprise, saw Elliot.

“Mrs. Barba, I’m Detective Elliot Stabler, I—” 

“I know about you, Detective,” Lucia breathed, “If you’ve come here to disrespect my—” 

“No, I’ve come here to pay my respects, Mrs. Barba.

I’m very sorry for your loss.

Your son… was a brave man.  His actions are going to ensure Richard Wheatley never sees the light of day without bars in the way again.”

Lucia considered him for a while before she continued, “Thank you, Detective.”

He nodded at Lucia, then again at Olivia before sitting in the pew behind where Fin, Phoebe, Amanda, and Carisi were.

The Funeral Mass was beautiful, Olivia doing the First Reading, Carisi the Second Reading, Lucia asking him shortly before the Mass, so she’d only have to do the General Intercessions, though Olivia had had to walk back up to the ambo to wrap an arm around her so that she could get through it once she reached the one praying for the repose of Rafael’s soul.

Rafael was buried in a small cemetery, in a nice plot with a view of the river.

It was getting harder for Olivia to keep her composure, because while she had seen his body, knew that he was gone, seeing the coffin lower into the ground drove home how final it all was.

She’d never see or talk to him again.

Lucia was shaking beside her, her hand tight on Olivia’s arm, so she fought all the harder to keep it together.

Finally, she and Lucia were the only people left at Rafael’s gravesite, Amanda and Carisi taking Noah with them to the funeral lunch at Rafael’s favorite Cuban restaurant, and she allowed the thought that had been haunting her for almost two weeks to escape her lips.

“I wanted to call him the day they found his body,” she spoke quietly.

She felt Lucia’s attention shift to her, so she continued, “Literally before Fin came into my office to tell me they found his body, I was thinking about calling or texting him.” 

She began crying in earnest, as she said, “If—if I had just had that thought two days before then, or even the day before, we could have talked, and he wouldn’t have died thinking I hated him.”

She turned to Lucia, beginning to gasp for breath.  “Why—why didn’t I call him, Lucia, I should have called him, he was my friend—”

And she broke, her face crumpling as she sobbed, Lucia pulling her into a maternal embrace, which only made her break even more.

“Shh, Olivia, shh, it’s alright,” Lucia murmured, comforting Olivia in a reversal of when she had told the other woman her son was dead.

When she was more composed, Lucia put gentle, work-worn hands on either side of her face, saying, “Listen to me, Olivia Benson, do not feel guilty about that, it isn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known that Rafael was going to die, and I know he wouldn’t want you to tear yourself apart over this.”

Olivia sniffled, a broken laugh escaping her.  “That’s almost what Rafael said in his video.”

She had told Lucia about the video, Lucia glad that Rafael had managed to have a final conversation with Olivia even if it was only like that.

“He understands, Olivia, believe me, he does, and he knows now that you didn’t hate him, he knows now.”

Olivia nodded, wiping her eyes with her hand.  “I’m sorry—Rafael was your son, I should be the one comforting you.”

Shifting her hands to clasp both of Olivia’s, Lucia smiled, tears running down her own cheeks, “Grief is grief, no matter who feels it.  

After all, grief is just love with no place to go.  And I would never deny anyone their love for my son. 

Now, what do you say, let’s go to Carmelita’s and have some delicious Ropa Vieja, hmm?”

Olivia nodded, both sending a final look to Rafael’s grave before walking to their cars.

After shutting the door of Lucia’s car, she turned to go to hers, eyes widening when she saw Elliot leaning against her car.

She took a deep breath, moving forward, nonchalantly asking, “What are you still doing here?  I thought you’d leave when the other guests did.”

“I saw you and Mrs. Barba still standing at the gravesite, so I figured I’d wait for you guys.

And I need a ride, I took a cab to the church, and Fin and Phoebe gave me a ride here,” he replied.

Olivia couldn’t help a laugh.  “I guess I’m that ride.”

Elliot looked around, before saying, “I’m sorry about Rafael, Liv.  I know he was your friend.  He was… a better man than I gave him credit for.”

“He was a good man,” she said, a slightly warning edge creeping into her tone, not in the particular mood today for Elliot’s habitual dislike of defense attorneys.

Elliot nodded, amending his statement, “He was a good man.”

Olivia exhaled, her breath sending a cloud of mist into the air around them.  “I still can’t really believe it, to be honest.  He was my friend for years, and now he’s gone.”

She looked down, straightening her gloves, fidgeting to occupy herself so she wouldn’t break down again.

Elliot pushed off of her car, taking the step that put him right in front of her.  “It’s okay to miss him, Liv.  Let yourself miss him.”

“I know,” she sighed—she felt like she had been doing that so much lately.  “Thank you for coming, I’m—I’m glad you came.”

“Of course, Liv.  And… if you need to talk, you can call me.”  An almost shy, apologetic smile spread over his face as he took her hand.  “Like I said, I’m not going anywhere this time around.”

“Thank you,” she replied, squeezing his hand in hers.

“Anytime.  Now, how about that ride?”

“I’m going to the lunch,” she warned as they went to the driver’s and passenger’s side respectively.

“Well, then it sounds like I’m eating Cuban for lunch,” he replied easily.

The most honest smile she had smiled in what seemed like an eternity, but was only two weeks, came over her face as they slid into their seats.

New York Supreme Court

Manhattan

Part 23

4:00 PM

Monday, March 14, 2022

Today the verdict on whether Richard Wheatley was guilty of murdering Rafael would come down.

Olivia was seated just behind the bar in the gallery, Lucia next to her, Rita across the aisle from them.

The defense attorney had come to practically every day of the trial, and had even remarked to Carisi on the first day, just before he went to his table, “I’m rooting for your side today.”

The trial had had a rocky start—at the arraignment, Buchanan (of course it was Buchanan), Wheatley’s lawyer, objected to Carisi prosecuting Rafael’s murder, demanding that he recuse himself under the grounds that “Mr. Carisi has a prejudice against my client,” and that “Mr. Carisi has an emotional tie to this case, as it is well known that Mr. Barba was his mentor.”

Judge Serani couldn’t help but agree with Buchanan, ruling that Carisi had to recuse himself, though with the caveat, “However, if Mr. McCoy chooses to make you second chair to whomever he assigns, I do not find that an issue.”

Buchanan, of course, protested, but it was done.

The same day, Jack McCoy assigned himself to the case, making Carisi his second chair.

And while the trial was hardly smooth sailing from then on, with Rafael’s evidence and the video of his death along with Wheatley’s confession on the video, there wasn’t really much Buchanan could do—Wheatley was dead to rights, and his organization was also falling apart, Elliot’s team slowly tearing it down.  

Buchanan tried to get a plea deal, but McCoy refused, saying that the video was such damming evidence that it would be foolish to offer a deal.

And according to Carisi, McCoy had muttered once they left the conference room, “Buchanan must be crazy—a plea deal?  

Rafael may have left the DA’s office, but he was one of us, and we take care of our own.”

Now, they would know if Rafael’s sacrifice paid off.

It had to.

After a short wait, the bailiff called out, “All rise!”

Judge Lewis entered, seating herself before saying “Please be seated.”

Shortly after following the various courtroom protocol, she called the jury in.

The jury filed in, and sat down before Judge Lewis asked, “Will the defendant rise?”

Wheatley and Buchanan stood as Judge Lewis turned to the jury.  “Has the jury come to an agreement?”

The forewoman stood.  “We have, Your Honor.”

“Very well, In the case of The People vs. Richard Wheatley, how do you find the defendant?”

The forewoman opened a sheet of paper, reading out, “In the case of The People vs. Richard Wheatley, we the jury, in the charge of first-degree murder, find the defendant…”

Olivia swore her heart stopped during that pause, helpless to resist leaning forward in her seat, one hand twisting the gold cross around her neck between two fingers, Lucia in her peripheral vision muttering a prayer, rosary pressed to her lips.

“Guilty.”

Lucia’s sob rang through the courtroom, the older woman pulling Olivia into an embrace, the police Captain releasing a sigh of relief, as Rita shouted, “Yes!”

Judge Lewis banged her gavel, calling, “Order in the court!  Bailiff, take Mr. Wheatley into custody to await sentencing.”

Olivia and Lucia were deaf to Judge Lewis thanking the jury for their service and concluding the proceedings, as they held onto each other, Lucia sobbing while Olivia sent McCoy and Carisi grateful looks, mouthing a “Thank you.”

Both men nodded at her, smiles on their faces.

Forlini’s Restaurant and Bar

7:00 PM 

Monday, March 14, 2022

Forlini’s was hopping, the dinner rush beginning to climax, not helped by Olivia and Elliot, their respective squads, Lucia, Rita, Jack McCoy, and Carisi cramming themselves into the restaurant’s bar area.

When everyone had arrived, it was a mess of tearful, thankful, and congratulatory hugs, Lucia nearly bowling the venerable District Attorney over with the force of hers, Carisi not faring much better when it was his turn.

Olivia had made the reservation for 7:00 o’clock, but with the dinner rush pressing in, there was still going to be a twenty to thirty minute wait, so everyone took the opportunity to order some drinks from the bar.

Olivia ordered her favorite wine, which, when they would meet at this same restaurant, Rafael would already have sitting in a glass next to him, and a tumbler of Rafael’s favorite top-shelf scotch, placing it on the counter before what had been “his” seat at the bar.

Everyone looked at the full glass, the empty chair, knowing what it meant, solemn as they remembered the man who should’ve been sitting there.

“I want to—”  Olivia cleared her throat, continuing, “I want to propose a toast.  Rafael Barba was a man of… contradictions.  

He grew up in Spanish Harlem, and yet he could schmooze with the highest echelons of New York society.  

He was a man of the world, and yet he never forgot his roots.  

He could be a dumbass, and yet he was a brilliant lawyer.  

He could be…”  Here, she chuckled, “He could be an utter, complete ass, and yet, he was one of the kindest, gentlest, most considerate men I have ever met.  

Rafael Pedro Barba was all this, and he was my best friend.  

I’m never going to forget the day I met him.

He’d just finished an arraignment, and he walked over to Captain Harris, Amanda, and me, with this cocky smile, and you could see the charm oozing—no, dripping off of him.

The first words he said were, ‘Captain.  Take-Your-Daughters-to-Work Day?’

I said to myself as I shook his hand, ‘Oof.  This guy’s not gonna last.  One month or less, and he’ll run screaming.’

I was never so happy to be wrong.

I never thought that Rafael would become someone who supported me, who was there for me though some of the worst times of my life, that he’d become my best friend, but he did.

I am so, so glad I got to know him, and I miss him so much.

Before we toast, I—I’d like those who want to, to come up and say something.”

Jack McCoy stepped forward, a thoughtful expression on his lined face.  “When I first met Rafael, I will not hesitate to admit, I thought him a man too big for his britches.  He had a big attitude, and a big mouth.”

Everyone laughed at that, no one able to deny it.

“But still, something told me to give him a chance.  And I am forever glad that I did.  

He was one of the best ADA’s I have ever had the privilege of having, and his drive and passion for justice was a credit not only to the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office, but also to our profession itself.”

McCoy nodded before stepping back, Rita taking his place.

“I hated Rafael’s guts when we first met at Harvard.  

Here was this swaggering Cuban-American scholarship kid from New York sauntering in to every class like he owned the place.  

But it quickly became clear that there was a brain, not just affirmative action to back up that swagger.

He… wiped the floor with me and our other classmates, I’d never seen anyone more compelled to succeed, and we were in Harvard, which was saying something.  And for some reason, this guy was still able to make friends despite that.  

Except me.  I was still determined to hate him.

Then our ethics professor, Dr. Steengarten, paired the whole class off for an assignment, and who do I end up with other than the guy who’s been handing my ass to me since day one?

We were going to end up failing the damn thing because we couldn’t stand each other, but then, Rafael flipped his textbook shut on the table in the library, and said, ‘Okay, listen, if we don’t get our shit together, we’re going to fail, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want that.  How about a truce for this assignment, and after that, we can go back to hating each other.’

We finished the assignment, but… we never did go back to hating each other.

We became best friends, and even though we were frequently on opposite sides of a courtroom, we knew that was just work, that we had each other’s backs at the end of the day.

Rafael Barba was my best friend, the man who made me a better lawyer, and I am always going to miss that Cuban idiot.

Damn him for making me miss him.”

Carisi was next.

“When I met Rafael Barba, I was still a Detective, going to night school at Fordham Law. 

I would watch him, the way he would handle a case, and while there were and are some things I would do differently from him, I knew he was one of most brilliant legal minds I’d ever met, and I told myself, ‘I want to be like Rafael Barba one day.’

I went to every closing argument he ever did, even went so far as to write them down.

And I remember asking to shadow him, not expecting him to agree.  I was so surprised when he said yes.  

I know I, on occasion, irritated him when I began shadowing him—I was certainly an eager beaver, and sometimes I’d arrive to talk to him before he’d had enough coffee, and as I’m sure most people here know, Rafael Barba was not a human being until he’d had an unholy amount of caffeine.”  

Many people laughed at that.

“Anyway, there were many times that I suspected he was just managing to keep himself from strangling me.  

Despite that, he never made me feel inferior to him, never demeaned me for asking a question, as irritated as he sometimes was. 

And we all know that if he put his mind to it, he could be… very blunt, to say the least.  The man wasn’t called “El Tiburón” for nothing.  

But one of the many things I will never forget about Rafael Barba is this: we were celebrating another win in The Beekman, and I’d had a beer or two, he’d had a scotch or two as well, but neither of us were drunk, and I said, ‘God, I wish I can be like you once I become a lawyer.’

And I tell you, the look on his face—it was so withering.

He said, ‘Are you stupid?  That’s a horrible thing to say.’

My face fell so far, I just know it.

He continued, ‘There’s already one Rafael Barba in the legal universe.  Don’t try to be me, I’m already me.  The only lawyer you need to work on being, is Dominick Carisi Jr.  Do that, and you’ll be fine.’

And he went back to drinking his scotch like he hadn’t just completely upended my thought process.

I kept that mind, grateful I still remembered that the next day.

And after that, while I did still practice his summations, I stopped thinking, ‘What would Barba do,’ and I began thinking, ‘What would I do?  What do I do?’

Looking back, I should have seen this comment he told me during one of the last times we really talked before his death for what it was.   

He said, ‘You really have become a lawyer,’.  

He was telling me he was proud of me, that I had become Dominick Carisi Jr., but I was out of practice interpreting his statements to understand, and he was on the other side of the courtroom, so my guard was up, ready to deflect whatever, even if he was there talking to me as Rafael, my mentor, not Barba the defense attorney.”

He exhaled heavily, going on, “I learned so much from him, and because of what he said, he taught me to be me.  I’ll forever be grateful, and I’ll never forget that.”

Practically everyone gathered came up and said something, including Amanda, who thanked him for handling her case with Patton with care, and Fin, who called him a great ADA, and an “OG”.

Finally, Lucia stepped forward.

“I’m not a great speaker like all of you, so I don’t think that what I say will be very long.

Ever since my son was a child, I knew he was destined for great things.

I was so proud when he got into Harvard, when he graduated Magna cum Laude, and then when he became an ADA.

But I was always worried that he was alone, even if he’d tell me he had friends.

Now, after hearing from all of you, I’m so happy to hear that he was never alone, that he had people who cared about and respected him, that he had friends who were like family.

And I think that maybe, just maybe, that is the greatest achievement of my son, that he became who he was to all of you, someone so loved and respected.

Because what are all the achievements in the world if one is not loved?

Thank you all for caring about, respecting, and loving my son.”

After that, Olivia stood, raising her glass.

“To Rafael Barba!”

Everyone chorused, “To Rafael!”

Olivia wistfully clinked her glass against the scotch tumbler on the bar counter before taking a drink, and soon everyone came up to clink their drink against the tumbler as she had done.

The rest of the evening was spent with everyone recounting stories of Rafael, fond remembrances passing between the people seated at the dining table.

Holy Mother of Peace Roman Catholic Cemetery

1:00 PM 

Saturday, April 16, 2022

Olivia parked on the road a short walk from Rafael’s grave, the sun shining and the wind blowing, carrying within it the breath of spring.

She had just come from the Catholic church near her apartment to light a candle for Rafael before visiting him as she’d begun to do once every two weeks.

She wasn’t really raised with religion, and didn’t really know if she herself could believe in a higher power after all she had seen and experienced, but she couldn’t deny that the ritual was a little comforting, and if Rafael Barba, a man who one would assume to be a devout atheist, could believe, then she could have a little faith in God for his sake.

Olivia approached the black marble gravestone, small bouquet of gerbera daisies in hand, kneeling to brush off a couple of loose blades of grass which had landed on the base.

“There you go, God forbid you’re caught looking less than perfect,” she smiled, laying the bouquet down before standing.

“So uh, they finally got it ironed out at the bank and transferred the money you set aside into the college fund you had set up in your will for Noah.  I can’t thank you enough for that—he’ll be able to go to school wherever he wants with that.

Carisi’s already taken care of the scholarship you wanted set up at Harvard—he and Lucia are already looking at possible recipients for the next academic year.”

It had surprised her so much when she was invited to Rafael’s will reading, and even more surprised when it was read that he’d set aside two-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars for a college fund, with a little extra, for Noah.

Carisi had also been surprised when, along with Lucia, he was named a trustee of the Rafael Barba Scholarship, which Rafael wanted set up with the money he hadn’t left to Lucia, to go towards providing disenfranchised Hispanic youth the same chance he had.

“I’m still debating whether it’s normal for me to still be watching the video of Wheatley’s sentencing.

It’s almost getting to the point where I have Judge Lewis’ remarks memorized,” she chuckled.

Wheatley had been sentenced to life without parole just for Rafael’s murder, courtesy of Jack McCoy pushing for the maximum sentence, and that was without the RICO charges, or the other murder charges heaped on top of those thanks to Rafael’s evidence, closing many cold cases, ensuring Richard Wheatley would die in prison several times over.

Rafael was still getting justice for so many even beyond the grave.

Olivia sighed before saying, “I got a good spot for your candle at St. Francis’ today—right in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary.

Lucia told me that you had a devotion to her as a kid, so I figured I’d light the candle there, and I was lucky, usually the candle holders in front of her statue are full.”

She turned her face to the sky before continuing, “We all miss you.  You’re such an ass for making us miss you this much.  For making me miss you this much.

And if you think that I’m not going to be visiting you until my dying day—you’ve got another thing coming, buddy.  

It’s cute you think death can get you out of this friendship; you’re still stuck with me, and you should expect to squabble with me if I get to wherever you are.”

She stood there in silence for a couple of minutes, before nodding, “Well, Rafa, I have to go pick up Noah from dance class, but I’ll see you again in two weeks.

Don’t finish all the scotch up there, and… save me a seat and a good wine up there if you can.

I’ll see you, Raf.”

And pressing her fingers to her lips, she brushed them against the cold, onyx-dark marble before walking back to her car.

*Cut to Olivia walking back to her car, Rafael’s gravestone in the foreground, reading: Rafael Pedro Barba

1970–2022

Beloved Son and Beloved Friend

A bright bouquet of gerbera daisies lies in front of it, the wrapping surrounding the flowers fluttering in the wind.*

*Fade to black*

The End