Chapter Text
Four hours. That's how long they'd been waiting for the defendant.
Four.
Freaking.
Hours.
'What the hell is taking them so long?' Sam Winchester wondered to himself. 'These people had dealt with criminals before. What was the hold up?'
Sam was the prosecuting attorney, and he and his witnesses had been early. Every single one. He felt bad for the defense attorney, but not too bad.
Just two short years ago, Sam had graduated from the Stanford University school of Law, top of the class, full ride every year. And now he was on of the best lawyers in the state.
This case wasn't unlike anything he hadn't dealt with before; white male, early thirties, murder, thief, almost 20 years worth of credit card fraud. Should be a shoe-in. However, the defendant, had pleaded innocent, and caused a huge trial, even though all evidence pointed to him. Sam had accepted nevertheless. A case was a case. Even one like this, that had popped up the day before, but they wanted this guy off the streets as soon as possible. Sam hadn't had a chance to talk to his witness, to do any research on the trial. He didn't even know the guy's name.
Finally, f i n a l l y, after almost the fifth consecutive hour of waiting, the court heard the rustling of handcuffs from down the hallway. They heard muffled voices as well. Then there were a couple of yells, like they guy had just broke out, but it was subdued. Then the doors opened.
"-just proving a point. You told me i couldn't hit you with handcuffs on, i said i could. Now i guess we know who was right." The defendant was being held onto by the shoulders and neck, talking to a guard whose face was bright red and had a black eye. "Hey and i can walk on my own quit touching me." He shook off the bailiff's hand from his shoulder.
All of the blood rushed out of Sam's face and he felt sick.
Dean's eyes looked over the courtroom expressionlessly. He always had been harder to surprise then Sam. Then he cracked a smile.
"Hey guys."
"Mr. Winchester please go sit down." The Judge said.
"As you wish." He said, bowing low, then strolling to his seat where his handcuffs were promptly attached to the table.
Dean sighed.
"Dean Winchester, you have been accused of extensive credit card fraud, impersonating authority figures, and theft, but more importantly, multiple cases of first degree murder. How do you plead?" The judge asked.
"What?" Dean asked looking up. "Sorry, wasn't listening. Could you please restate the question?"
Sam put his head in his hands.
"How do you plead?" Judge Sanders asked stiffly.
"Am i allowed to plead for a bacon cheeseburger? Is that a thing?" Dean asked. The judge lowered his eyebrows. "Seriously." Dean protested. "I'm starving. They have to worst burgers in St. Louis."
"Well i can't imagine the food was prestige in jail."
"I wasn't talking about in the jail, but yeah those were pretty bad too." Dean acknowledged.
"Do you plead innocent or guilty, Mr. Winchester?"
"Please." He said. "Call me Dean."
"Very well." The judge sighed. "Innocent or guilty...Dean?"
"Innocent." Dean finally said.
"The defendant pleads innocent." The judge announced loudly.
Dean rolled eyes.
"Yeah that's why we're here." He muttered.
"Anything more from you, Winchester, and i'll charge you with contempt." Judge Sanders threatened.
Dean raised his hands in unconcerned surrender. "And i said it was 'Dean'." Dean reminded him.
"Mr. Thompson. You may begin." The judge ignored him.
Dean's lawyer stood up an walked to the front of the room.
"Innocent." He boomed, standing tall. "My client pleads innocent. My client IS innocent. Ladies and gentlemen, i know you opinions of Mr. Winc- Dean," he corrected himself. "are less than favorable. But he is not a murderer anymore than anyone in this room." Sam was doubtful of that statement. "He was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. And before we leave here, i will have shown you this in so many ways, that you will no have even a shred of doubt that he is innocent." He looked over the courtroom. "Thank you."
Then he sat down. Silence. Even Dean was looking at him with raised eyebrows. He was overconfident, and it was going to backfire since he actually had no solid evidence and a snarky client.
"Mr. Winchester, if you please."
Sam took a deep breath, and got up, straightening his suit. They were going to figure out that they were brothers eventually. There are only so many people with the last name of Winchester.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury." He started shakily. Dean's face was mostly impassive, with a slight smirk showing up on the corners of his mouth. Sam decided not to look at him. "Before us sits a very unfortunate man. No, not Mr... Dean. Mr. Thompson. I feel for him, i really do. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Thompson is playing the maybe game. MAYBE Dean, was actually at a bar one night. MAYBE he's been framed. MAYBE he's not a murderer. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Just a bunch of circumstantial evidence that he's going to play off as genuine. Not that i blame him, of course. He has no genuine evidence." He turned to Mr. Thompson, ignoring Dean. "It's a dangerous game, Mr. Thompson. I wish you luck." He turned back to the jury. "Dean Winchester is guilty." He let his voice ring through the courtroom's silence. "Years of credit card fraud, proven. You get into places you shouldn't by impersonating anyone from a fraternity brother or pastor to an FBI agent or homeland security agent. Taking part in an all night bank robbery, taking 12 hostages, murdering one of them. Anthony Giles. Dead. Karen Giles. Dead. Diana Ballard. Dead. Three girls tortured in St. Louis. One dead. All of them murdered. All when you were there, all only when you were there, all by you." He said trying to look at Dean, but not look at him at the same time. "Thank you." He said stiffly.
Dean smiled at his little brother's success. He nodded appraisingly. There was scattered applause. Sam glanced at Dean apologetically.
"Order. Order!" Judge Sanders yelled, pounding his gavel on the podium. Soon the court was back to it's usual silence. "Now commences a 15 minute recess." He stood up and walked out.
People got up and started talking, walking in small groups out of the room. Soon only the two lawyers and Dean were left, Dean probably because he was handcuffed to the table.
"Mr. Winchester," Thompson said. "We need to discuss-"
"Say, could i get that burger now?" Dean asked.
Thompson threw up his hands in defeat and exited, leaving Sam and Dean alone.
"It's Dean!" He called to Thompson as the door slammed shut. "Hiya, Sammy." He grinned at Sam.
"Dean, what the hell man?"
"Oh, come on. Is that any way to treat your older brother? Hows long's it been? Eight, nine years? How's Jessica?"
"She's fine. She's at home with the kids."
"Aw i'm an uncle. Why didn't you tell me? Then again i had to find out you got married on my own. Guess my invitation got lost in the mail."
"Dean you don't have a mailing address."
"Well i do have a working phone."
"Yeah, and i haven't heard from you since that week before my interview. You said you'd call me when you found dad."
"Guess i forgot. I was busy saving people's lives." Dean spat.
"So you did find him?" Sam said eagerly.
"Yes." Dean said shortly.
"Well? How is he?"
"He's dead."
Neither of them said anything for a bit.
"Oh."
"Yeah, so i've been on my own for about six, seven years. Almost died a couple times. No big deal. Killed the thing that killed mom. Now i guess i'm on trial. Sounds like i might go to jail with you going against me." He grinned.
"Dean that's not funny."
"No i agree." Dean said. "You're a damn good lawyer. Glad you got to go live your dream."
"Dean-" Sam stopped. There was no good way to finish that sentence. "Wait... Did i hear you right?" Sam asked suddenly. "You got mom's killer?"
Dean looked proud. "I sure did. A demon. Shot him in the head."
"With what?"
"Colt's gun."
"Samuel Colt's gun?"
Dean nodded. "That's the one."
"You have THE colt?!"
"In the trunk. Unless your law buddies find my arsenal."
"Dean, i'm sorry." Sam said quietly. "I didn't know-"
"It doesn't matter." Dean cut him off.
A loud beep signaled the end of the break. People startle flooding back in.
"Knock 'em dead, Sammy." Dean said softly.
Sam nodded curtly and turned away.
Mr. Thompson returned, to Dean's despair, without any food.
"Dude." Dean spread his hands as wide as he could. "What the hell?"
"I'm getting damn tired of you, Winchester." Thompson murmured.
"You've known me for half an hour."
"Order!" The judge barked. The room quieted down. "Prosecution, if you would please call your first witness?"
"Yes, your honor." Sam said reluctantly. "Prosecution would like to call Victor Hendrickson to the stand."
Dean swore loudly.
Thompson smacked him.
Victor, a tall, well dressed man got up and walked confidently to the stand. He was smirking at Dean.
"Hello Victor." Sam said.
"Hello Sam."
"How's your day been?"
"It's about to get a lot better."
"And why's that?" Sam asked.
"Because all my dreams are about to come true." Victor shifted his gaze. "Hiya Dean."
"You son of a bitch." Dean tried to get up, but the cuffs held him back. People gasped as Victor smirked
at Dean as he struggled against the handcuffs.
"Order. Order!" Judge Sanders yelled, pounding his gavel loudly. Eventually people calmed down. "Winchester, sit down." He barked.
"So, you know Dean?" Sam guessed, turning to Hendrickson.
"Yeah. Dean. Dean Winchester. I've been trying to catch this guy for how many years is it now?" He asked Dean. Dean sulked at him. "Since before you locked down that bank, at least. I don't believe we've talked since the Green River County Detention Center."
"Could you elaborate on the bank you mentioned?" Sam asked, trying not to be startled at Victor's dedication to locking up his brother.
"It would be my pleasure. It was Milwaukee. About a year after the whole st. Louis incident. Dean was there. He held a bunch of workers hostage, even killed one, with the help of another armed madman."
"You say it was after st. Louis?"
"St. Louis. That's right. Dean Winchester sliced up 3 women, killing one of them. Though we found him dead. Still working out how he faked his death so convincingly."
'St. Louis.' Sam thought. Suddenly, an imaged flashed through his mind. A text he'd forwarded to Dean. An email from his friend. He put his head in his hands. Oh god. This was his fault.
"Sam?" Dean got to his feet, and tried to rush to his brother's side, but the handcuffs stopped him. "Sammy, what's wrong?"
"Dean. Sit down." Thompson hissed.
"Mr. Winchester, what's the matter?" Judge Sanders asked.
Sam took a deep breath. He can't afford to loose it like that.
"Sorry." He said, turning around. "Migraine. Better now. Could that be off the record please?"
The judge nodded.
"So, Mr. Hendrickson," Sam continued hastily. "You mentioned Green River County Detention Center?"
"Uh, yeah." Victor said, slightly put off by Sam's little episode. "The detention center. Dean got arrested for breaking into a museum."
"What happened?" Sam prodded.
"He escaped. He knocked out the warden and left through the vent. I didn't see him again until Oakland."
"Could what you saw in Oakland?"
"At first we thought it was a couple of suicides. You know, the company was facing some hard times. Wasn't uncommon. Then this guy shows up," he gestured at Dean. "announcing himself as Agent John Bonham, FBI. Now, i knew who he was, and he didn't know i was there, so i followed him. After asking some weird questions around the firm for about half an hour, he went back to his motel room."
"When you say weird questions, what exactly do you mean?" Sam asked.
"Asking about strange noises. Scratching behind walls. Cold spots. Weird questions."
Sam pursed his lips. "Alright. And what happened when he got back to his motel?"
"He pulled out a beer and a laptop and stared at the screen for about an hour. Then he suddenly got up, threw some 'supplies' in a duffle and drove off in that dumb old car of his."
"Hey!" Dean protested.
"Supplies?" Sam continued.
"Strange stuff." Hendrickson said. "Huge thing of salt. A bottle of kerosene. A shovel. He had a knife and a gun."
"And where did he drive to?" Sam asked, though he already basically knew the answer.
"A graveyard. About a mile north." "And just what was he doing at a graveyard?"
"Digging up graves."
A woman in the audience gasped. Dean rolled his eyes.
"And mutilating corpses." He continued.
Sam sighed. "Already illegal." He commented. "And what happened after that?"
"Then he went back to his motel room and went to sleep. So i did the same. The next morning, another member of the firm was dead. 'Cept this time we knew it wasn't suicide. Signs of struggle. Shown some light on the others. We found that they weren't suicides either. That's when we found Dean at the victim's house." He paused for dramatic affect.
Dean sighed.
"The girl's blood was on his hands, there was a crowbar, of all things lying across the room. As well as a bloody knife. The rest is history."
"Was there anyone else in the house?"
"Not a soul."
Dean snorted.
"There hadn't been in weeks. Michaela lived alone." Victor said, staring irritably at Dean.
Sam turned to the judge. "No further questions, your honor."
Sam took his seat.
'Not bad' Dean nodded appreciatively.
Sam frowned apologetically.
"Mr. Thompson. You're up for cross." Judge Sanders announced.
Michael got to his feet and walked over to Victor.
"Mr. Hendrickson, i only really have one question for you." He said.
"Better make it a good one then."
"Have you ever actually seen Dean murder anyone?"
Victor hesitated.
Dean smirked.
"N...no."
"Did anyone you talked to actually see Dean murder anyone?"
"No, but-"
"No." Michael repeated, smiling, as he turned to the audience. "Follow up then. Are you playing the 'maybe game' Mr. Hendrickson?" He asked, staring pointedly at Sam.
Dean bit his lip, obviously holding back laughter. Clearly there was a lot of bad blood between the two of them. Victor didn't seem to know what to say.
"No further questions." Thompson said.
Sam sighed as Hendrickson took his seat.
"Next witness?"
"Prosecution would like to call Peter Sheridan to the stand." Sam announced.
"Aw, come on!" Dean complained.
"Dean. Silence." Sanders barked.
"Hello Peter." Sam said. "How was your flight?"
"Awful, but worth it."
"What makes you say it was worth it?"
"Because that man, Dean Winchester, murdered my friend." He said. "He murdered my friend, and his wife, and my partner. And then he had the nerve to blame me." He glanced snidely at Dean. "Or was it that vengeful spirit you mentioned?"
This received a few titters from the crowd.
"He mentioned a vengeful spirit?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, during his 'confession'. He also added that st. Louis wasn't him either."
"Who does he say did it?"
"Not who. What. He said it was a, what was it? 'A shapeshifter creature who only looked like me'."
Sam took a deep, slow breath. "What happened next?"
"Well then he escaped. He ran off. Not sure how he did it, he's a slippery son of a bitch."
"Indeed." Sam coughed. "Now, could you describe the fashion in which you discovered Dean was murdering these people?"
"Of course. We got a 911 call from Karen Giles, saying that someone was in her house. By the time we reached her, Dean was already there, her throat slit to the bone, her blood literally on his hands."
"And what do you know of Dean's escape?" Sam asked.
"What do you mean?" Pete asked quickly.
"Where were you when he was found missing?"
"It wasn't like that exactly." Pete said.
Dean laughed.
"Mr. Winchester, if i hear one more sound from you..." Judge Sanders threatened.
"Then what was it like?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's interruption.
"Dean was in the back of my squad car." Pete told the court. "He was being deported to st. Louis. Then he broke out somehow. Rolled right out of the back of the truck. I tried to get him, by the time i got out to the back, he had disappeared."
"That's not true!" Dean shook his head, grinning. "You pulled me out of that car and tried to shoot me at point-blank. For no reason, i might add."
The courtroom exploded in a chorus of nervous chatter.
"Order. Order!" Sanders yelled, banging his gavel on the podium. The courtroom quieted down. "Dean, first of all, you are not allowed to talk, especially out of turn, especially while a witness is giving a testimony. More importantly, this is the fifth time i've had to ask you to be quiet this morning. So unless you want to be thrown out of this courtroom and held in a state penitentiary until this is over, i suggest you shut your mouth and keep it that way."
Dean leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips together. His hands gestured 'continue'.
"Keep going Mr. Winchester." Sanders said to Sam.
"Um. No further questions, your honor."
"Very well." Judge Sanders sighed. "Mr. Thompson?"
"Mr. Sheridan." Michael said, getting up. "Once again. I'm going to ask you: did you see Dean murder these people?"
"He was found at the crime scene wit-"
"Did you see Dean slice their throats with a knife?"
Pete pursed his lips. "No."
"Were there any witnesses to any of their murders?"
"No."
"No." Michael repeated, nodding. "This is a lot of circumstantial evidence on your side of the case, Mr. Winchester." He said to Sam.
Sam pursed his lips.
"On the topic of the knife," Thompson said, turning back to Pete. "Where was it? Where was the knife? Where was the murder weapon?"
"We never found one." Peter muttered.
"Oh. And did you ever come up with Dean's motive for these murders?"
"Well, no, but-" Pete started getting more and more frustrated.
"Do you have any evidence that my client had any connection to Karen or Anthony Giles?" Thompson asked him.
"Anthony was friends with his father."
"What reason would he have for killing his father's friend?"
"I don't know-"
"No further questions, your honor." Thompson turned and sat down.
"How can you defend a man like that?!" Pete started yelling at Thompson. "He is liar and a murderer, the very plague of human existence! You would see him out on the streets among us, you're no better than he is..."
Dean stared at Peter with wide eyes while the judge tried in vain to get him off the stand.
"Dude." Dean called over the pandemonium. "Chill."
"Don't you dare tell me to chill! You murdered my friends!"
That's when Dean leapt to his feet. "You know damn well that that's a lie! You killed them just like you killed Claire!"
Pete's face paled. The courtroom fell silent.
"Yeah. Remember Claire? That girl who hid that heroin for you? Thought i didn't know about that?" Dean continued snidely. "You killed her before she let the secret out. Anthony knew. So Karen must have known too." He added sarcastically. "But Diana, she didn't know anything. And you were sweet on her. What did you kill her for?"
Sam knew he should be objecting. The defendant wasn't allowed to question his witness. But he really didn't feel like it. He liked Dean and he didn't really like Peter. As much as it could jeopardize his case, he knew he didn't want Dean arrested. And he kinda enjoyed watching Peter squirm.
"I...i didn't..." Pete struggled to deny Dean's claims, but by then no one really believed him.
"That's what i thought." Dean smirked. "Now, get off the podium, man. You're holding us up."
Peter Sheridan got up angrily and stomped angrily, not only off of the podium, but out of the courtroom.
Thompson glanced at Dean with an appraising look on his face.
"Fifteen minute recess starts now." Sanders said tiredly.
Many spectators seemed more uncertain than they had before. Many of them tried to get a better look at Dean. Finally, Sam got up angrily and marched over to Thompson.
"Could i have a word with you client?" He barked.
"If this is about that outburst you didn't object to, then no." Thompson smirked. "What's done is done."
"Yo, it's cool Metlock." Dean said. "There's nothing he can do. If you could detach me from this table so i could go talk to the guy..."
After a tense minute, Sam and Dean were walking down the hall toward the room that had been appointed to Sam.
"That was intense." Dean commented. "Pete probably wasn't the best witness you could have picked, Sammy."
"Did he really kill those people?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. People are crazy."
"And you told him it was a vengeful spirit?"
"Mostly to annoy him. Initially i thought it was." Dean shrugged. "Turned out to be a death omen."
"Dean." Sam turned to face him.
"What?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what? Being the prosecuting attorney in my court case? That's not your fault."
"No, for st. Louis."
Dean thought for a moment. Then he closed his eyes. "Sammy, if you think that was your fault-"
"Dean if i hadn't sent you that text from Becky, you never would have gone. This whole thing would have never started. It's my fault you could be sentenced to death for something you didn't do!"
"Sam, listen to me. This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. I'm glad i went to st. Louis. If i hadn't, that shapeshifter would still be out there killing innocent girls and framing their boyfriends." Dean insisted. "Plus we both knew i'd get into trouble eventually." He cracked a smile.
"Dean-"
"I mean, i commit credit card fraud for a living. Always have."
"Shh. Dean, look, you're facing a death penalty. I don't want you to die!" Sam said seriously.
Dean pursed his lips. "Yeah, me neither."
They were quiet.
"Dean, i should have gone with you. That Halloween way back. I should have stayed with you. You had to do everything on your own. Hunt, find dad, deal with... with his death." Sam said softly. "I'm sorry i should have been there for you, man."
"Sam. You would have had to give up law school. Give up Jessica. I don't want that. You're happy. That's all i care about."
"Alright, yeah, but Dean-"
"Sam i mean it." He insisted.
"No, i should have-"
"Sam, listen to me-"
"Dean i left you al-
"Sam." Dean pinned Sam against the wall. "Listen. My life? This life? It's crap. You know that. You gave it up. I almost dragged you back in. Look at you. You have a successful honest job, a loving wife, kids. I will never have that. Do you think i'd be able to live with myself if-"
"Are you guys okay? I heard raised voices and- oh my god call a guard!" A clerk rounded the corner and saw Dean with his forearm at Sam's neck.
"Dammit." Dean sighed.
Guards rushed down the hallway and grabbed Dean, pulling him away from Sam and forcing his arms behind his back.
"Dude, ow!" Dean protested. "Lay off, i'm not-"
"Shut up." One of the guards hit him over the head with a baton.
"Ow!"
"Boys, i assure you, this is not-" Sam tried to tell them.
"No offense, Mr. Winchester, but this man is a criminal and he was just attacking you." One of the guards explained, as if Sam could somehow have missed that.
"C'mon." The other guard grunted at Dean, as he started dragging him down the hallway. They were dragging him because he refused to move his legs. He sighed, staring down the hall at Sam and shrugged. He looked very bored.
"Hey could you guys go any faster?" Dean asked as the rounded a corner.
Sam chuckled and shook his head slightly. They had bitten off more then they could chew with Dean. Then he stopped. Dean could, probably would get the death penalty for this. How could he try to convict him to that? He was his brother!
A bell signaled the three minute warning. Sam straightened his tie and walked back to the courtroom.
The courtroom was buzzing. Word travels fast through two rooms. People swarmed Sam asking him if he was alright. Sam tried to assure them that he was fine, but they didn't seem to want to believe him.
Thompson seemed conflicted on what to do with his client. He should be yelling at him for jeopardizing their case, but he also held a grudge against Sam, so he wasn't that mad.
Judge Sanders, on the other hand, was positively livid. He already was up to here with Dean, and he had worked with Sam before. It was probably just a matter of time before he threw Dean out. There was no way he was going to let him go.
Sam sighed.
"Order!" Sanders snapped.
People shut up.
"Mr. Winchester do you have anymore witnesses?" He asked Sam.
"No, your honor."
"Good." He said. "Then we will resume tomorrow. This has been a long day and we are all tired. Court dismissed." He banged his gavel on the podium.
People filled out a few at a time. When there wasn't a huge group, the judge came over to Sam.
"Are you alright?" He asked seriously.
"Yes, i'm fine." Sam insisted. "Why does everyone keep asking me?"
"Because you were just attacked by a man suspected of murder."
"He didn't-" Sam tried.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Sam." He ignored him. Sanders nodded respectfully at Michael as the passed then threw Dean a look of absolute loathing.
"Something tells me the judge is not completely unbiased." Dean said loudly enough for Sanders to here.
He slowed for a second before pushing open the door.
"I wonder why that is." Sam mumbled.
"Don't patronize my client." Thompson glared.
"Cool it, Atticus." Dean sighed. "I attacked him. Now we're even."
"Dean you didn't-"
Dean silenced him with a look.
Then 4 policemen walked into the room.
"Who are you guys?" Sam asked.
"We're here to escort Mr. Winchester to his holding cell." The head guy explained.
"Holding cell?" Sam repeated.
"Yeah. You didn't think they'd just let him stay in a friggin motel room, did ya?" The younger one asked.
Sam raised an eyebrow.
"You want me to sleep in a jail?" Dean asked indignantly. "That's going to make me pleasant in the morning."
"Yeah from what i've heard you're a real ray of sunshine." The deputy rolled his eyes.
Two of them grabbed his arms and hauled him out of his seat, the other two standing guard next to them. For some reason, Dean's legs had stopped working again. They were forced to drag him out of the courtroom.
"See ya tomorrow, Sam!" He called jovially as he was pulled out the door.
"Shut up." One of them groaned.
The doors slammed closed. Sam was left in the courtroom with Michael.
"He seems to know you." He observed. "I mean as more then the guy trying to get him on death row and the lawyer he attacked in the hallway."
"Yeah he does." Sam said neutrally. "I'll see you tomorrow, Thompson."
They nodded at each other and Sam gathered his things and left.
It was a couple of minutes before he made it home. Jessica waiting for him at the door.
"Hey, sweetie." She smiled, giving him a kiss he didn't return. "Hey, what's wrong?"
"I don't know what to do, Jess." He told her.
"Well come on inside and let's talk about it. The kids are already im bed. Theres some pizza left over."
"Thanks, babe." He kissed her forehead. He walked past her and set his files on the counter. Then he went and sat on the couch without getting any food.
"Bad day, huh?" She asked.
"You have no idea."
"Is it this case? The one you knew nothing about?" She persisted.
"Jess, do you remember my brother, Dean?"
"The one who randomly broke into our apartment right before your interview and took you away for a couple of days, and you haven't seen or heard from since?" She remembered. "Yeah, of course. Why..." She trailed off. "He's not-"
"Yeah. He is."
"Murder?!" Jess was scandalized.
"He's innocent!" Sam protested. "I know he is. But there's just so much evidence otherwise. And he's such a smartass, Sanders hates him. But he's my brother! And i'm supposed to put him on death row?!" Sam put his head in his hands.
Jessica started messaging his shoulders. "Sam." She said softly. "Of course, i don't want you to break the law but, if you weren't the opposing lawyer on your brother's case, what would you do?"
"I could lose the case." Sam put out.
"If you do what i think you're going to do, you could get arrested yourself." Jess warned. "They'll only be able to do so much digging without finding out that he's your brother."
Sam stared at the wall and didn't say anything for the rest of the night.
If he was going to get Dean out, he was going to need a plan.