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John and Fin had been called out in the middle of the night to a dead body. John had the niggling suspicion he had picked up Fin’s phone, but Cragen hadn’t said anything, so probably not.
“Damn,” Fin said. “Bastard really worked this one over. Face is badly bruised and broken. Bruising around the neck, from what I can tell, in all this damn blood.”
John sighed and saw Warner arriving.
She bent down next to the body and grimaced. “Why are the middle of the night calls always the worst?” she asked.
“Nature of the job,” John said tiredly. Middle of the day, he might have made a wisecrack, but he was tired, wanted to be back in bed with Fin holding him, and was honestly weary of this job right now.
Warner raised an eyebrow. “Well, definitely an SVU call,” she said. “Your guy’s penis and testicles are missing.”
“Any sign of sexual assault?” John asked.
“Beyond the missing parts? No fluids, but I’ll know more once I have him on my table.”
Fin got up and asked the cops and CSU around, “Anyone find a penis?”
They just shook their heads, not even surprised any more at the question.
Warner nodded to the techs, and they lifted the body onto the stretcher. “I’d say he bled out here,” she said, nodding to the large pool of blood. “Probably was alive when his face was bashed in.”
***
“Anything from the ME yet?” Cragen asked when he got in the next morning.
“No, and no leads on our John Doe,” John answered tiredly. “Face is a mess, prints not in the system, and no one recognizes him because everyone who looks at him says they can’t tell what he looked like before all the damn bruising.”
Cragen sighed heavily. “DNA?” he asked hopefully.
“Not back yet.”
“You two, go park yourselves at Warner’s office,” he ordered. “See if you can find anything to give you a lead on your John Doe. Elliot, Liv, go canvass the area and see if anyone saw or heard anything.”
They all left in a flurry of activity.
Warner met them with a grim face. “This guy was brutalized,” she said by way of greeting. “DNA’s not in the system, and good luck with the identification if you ever find his family. The forensic anthropologist and I have been trying all morning to figure out what he looked like before the perp got to him.”
“Facial reconstruction?” Fin asked.
Warner nodded. “His face was bashed in badly. And he was alive for it some of it. Cause of death is strangulation.”
“Tell me he was dead for the penectomy,” John said hopefully.
“Not by the clotting. Those were removed pre-mortem. And he was sodomized.”
“What with?”
“I don’t know,” Warner admitted. “Didn’t leave any useful evidence behind, just anal fissures and tears. His teeth were broken up, but we might be able to get dental records. Whoever did this is a nasty son of a bitch, and I hope you catch him soon.”
***
“Anything from the canvas?” Cragen asked.
“Well, the victim may have been gay,” Elliot said. “That area was full of gay bars. We checked with the bartenders, but they don’t recognize him. Hell, I doubt his own mother would recognize him from the photo we got.”
“We thinking it’s a gay bash?” Cragen asked.
“Too soon to tell,” Elliot answered. “We just don’t know anything.”
Huang was looking at the crime scene photos.
“Doctor, what’s your opinion?”
“There’s a lot of rage here,” Huang answered. “It’s either deeply personal or hate. You could be looking at a gay bash, but it could be someone related to your victim. You’d need to find out more about him to know.”
“Which we can’t do because we have no way of identifying him. Warner say she have enough for dental records?”
“She’s working on it.”
***
Two days later found John and Fin in an alley with another dead man, penis and testicles missing, face badly bashed in. It was in the same area as the first one, few blocks down.
Warner sighed as she examined the body. “Going to have a hell of time ID-ing this one, too,” she said. “If anything, the guy was rougher on this one’s face. Teeth are in better shape, should be easier to get dental records. Your canvas won’t be easy, though, no one’s going to recognize him, the shape he’s in.”
“He bleed out here?” Fin asked.
Warner indicated the pool of blood she was next to. “Yep. Time of death was several hours ago, and I’m guessing the unlucky victim was alive for most of this. You gotta catch this guy; I don’t want to see more of his handiwork.”
She stood up and stripped off her gloves. “I’ll know more once he’s on the table, but this guy’s careful. Victim’s unrecognizable, he leaves no trace evidence behind, it’s a blitz attack so there are no defensive wounds so no DNA under the fingernails….” She shook her head.
***
The third victim was found nowhere near the first two a week later. Same MO, and John sighed wearily as he helped search fruitlessly for the missing penis and testicles. They hadn’t found any of them yet.
They got similar information from Warner on this one too. Same difficulty with the face, with even ID-ing the victim: they were up to John Doe 1, 2, and 3 by now.
They were working it as gay bashing now even though the third victim had been found in a completely different area. It was a gut feeling they had by now that that’s what linked their victims.
Huang offered his thoughts: “I’d say your doer is angry at how they use their genitalia, that’s why it’s cut off. They misuse it, so they don’t deserve to even have it. The victims were sodomized with something – probably metal or plastic, since it left no trace evidence – to drive home their sins.”
“And the faces?” Liv asked, not sure she wanted to know.
“He’s angry,” Huang said. “He wants them to suffer and he wants to take away their features. I’d say these were good-looking men originally, men who could probably do very well with women if they were straight. The guy you’re looking for is probably not attractive and resents this, and resents deeply that men who look good would waste it like that.”
“He’s a homophobe,” Elliot said simply.
“Assuming these men are gay,” Huang said. “Which, of course, is the assumption we’ve been making.”
***
“We got a hit on the prints this time,” John declared, walking into the squad room. “Name’s on Henry Miller, one DUI. No wife or kids, living alone, records show he has a mother, Rebecca, out in Queens. Father’s been dead fifteen years.”
“Well, hopefully that means we can get an actual picture of him and do a decent canvas,” Elliot said.
“We’ll take notification,” Fin said, looking over John’s shoulder for the address. “You coming, John?”
John grabbed his coat and headed out the door with Fin.
They arrived at Rebecca Miller’s house and stood grimly in front of it. This was their least favorite part of the job.
A woman in what had to be her seventies opened the door a crack. “Yes?” she said.
John pulled out his badge. “I’m Detective Munch, this is my partner Detective Tutuola. Can we talk to you inside, ma’am?”
She let them in. “What is this about?”
“Ma’am, there’s no easy way to tell you this, unfortunately,” John said. “Your son was murdered last night.”
Rebecca grasped the back of a chair in shock, then lowered herself into it, sobbing. “No, it can’t be,” she cried. “He was just… no. You must have made a mistake!”
“We fingerprinted him,” Fin said softly. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” They sat down on the couch opposite her.
Rebecca wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and said, “I want to see him.”
John and Fin glanced at each other. John took the lead. “Ma’am, unfortunately, he was badly beaten. I really don’t think you want to see him.”
Rebecca’s lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “How did this happen? Who did it?”
“He was beaten and strangled in an alley,” Fin said. “We’re still investigating, but we have some questions about your son. Was he in a relationship?”
Rebecca shook her head. “Not since he broke up with his boyfriend last year,” she said, sniffling.
Fin wrote it down dutifully, noting that it was the first proof of their gay bashing theory.
“Do you know where he was last night?”
“He was going home after seeing me,” Rebecca answered. “I… I had surgery last week and he brought me dinner and he said he was going to the pharmacy then straight home. Oh god, I shouldn’t’ve asked him to come out here, he would’ve been fine,” she wailed.
John leaned forward. “It’s not your fault,” he said gently. “Do you have a recent photograph of him we could use?”
Rebecca nodded, wiping tears away again, and got up. She returned with a photograph of Henry, and John and Fin looked at it. It was hard to imagine that this man – who was good-looking, Huang had been right – was the same man that was lying on the morgue table.
“Bring it back,” she asked.
***
John got in the car next to Fin, who was driving. John was silent, and finally Fin said, “I don’t like it when you’re silent; that’s rarely a good sign.”
“I don’t like this case,” John said finally.
“Hell, none of us like this case. Some sick whacko out there knocking off gay men and torturing them? That’s sick.”
John shook his head. “I’m worried about you,” he admitted. “The last guy, Miller, he was found nowhere near those gay clubs. I know we’re gonna check the mother’s story, but it sounds like he just went to pick up meds and then was heading home. I don’t like it, Fin.”
“I’m not worried,” Fin said. “We’ve got guns.”
John just shook his head again dolefully. Fin held his hand a moment in reassurance.
***
Liv was worried too. She knew about John and Fin, of course, the whole squad knew. This guy seemed to have no pattern by now, just gays, and she worried about her colleagues. What if…? she wondered late at night, lying in bed.
They had guns, they were trained, she reassured herself, but she was still worried about them. She knew they weren’t gay, exactly, but she doubted this nutjob would make that distinction.
She hoped they wouldn’t be walking anywhere while this whacko was on the loose.
***
The mother’s story checked out: Miller had gone straight from her home to the pharmacy, and he had been on his way to his house, no stops, when he was attacked. They needed something now to find their attacker.
John sighed and shut the case file; they were getting nowhere fast. Liv and Elliot were around, too, trying to piece together movements of the first two victims, still unidentified. They had facial reconstruction to work with now, but it was slow going.
“What say we all get a drink?” John declared, putting the file down. “It’s late and we’ve got nothing. It’ll be here tomorrow, and I’m sick of looking at bashed-in faces for the night.”
Liv nodded and shut the file she was working on. “I’m in,” she said wearily. “Fin, Elliot?”
“You know I don’t say no to John,” Fin said, grabbing his coat.
Elliot sighed. “I don’t know; I think I might have something from this bartender. Something doesn’t match, but I can’t tell what.”
“It’ll be there tomorrow,” Liv said. “Join us.”
Elliot nodded and shut the file. “Yeah, you’re right.” He rubbed an eye; they’d all been working long hours trying to catch this serial killer.
The mood in the bar was grim. They were drinking mainly to forget the images for a scant few hours, not to celebrate. Fin had an arm around John casually, more open in the bar than he usually was elsewhere. He knocked back his shot – not in the mood for his usual beer tonight – and unwound the arm. “I think John and I are gonna head home,” he said, standing up with a bit of a wobble.
John stood up too, about as steady on his feet as Fin was.
Liv frowned. “You two walking?” she asked worriedly.
“Well, we ain’t driving after drinking like this,” Fin said. “Apartment’s only a few blocks from here.”
Liv played with the rim of her glass.
“Something wrong?” Fin asked.
Liv shrugged. “I don’t know, with this lunatic out there, attacking gay men, maybe take a cab?”
John turned to Fin and said, “That’s not a bad idea, Fin. You know I’m worried.”
Fin sighed. “I told you, I ain’t. We’ve got guns.”
“And we’ve been drinking, so do you really trust our aim right now?” John asked seriously. “Besides, this guy blitzes his victims from behind, no time to react. C’mon, let’s get a cab.”
Fin rolled his eyes but agreed. “Fine, but I still think you two are worrying about nothing.”
***
John and Fin were called to another dead body, making it the fourth in a month. Still the same MO, and John fervently hoped the next case they caught didn’t involve dismemberment in any way.
“I thought I told you two to catch this guy,” Warner said crossly as she examined the body at the scene.
“It would help if you could give us something to go on,” John said equally crossly. “We’re a total blank. No one saw anyone following Miller. No one heard anything. No one saw anything. Same with the other two, whom we haven’t even identified yet.”
“Well,” Warner said, with a trace of smugness. “We might have something this time.” She indicated the victim’s hands and arms. “Defensive wounds. The blitz attack didn’t work. I’m hoping he got a piece of him somehow.”
***
“Your victim definitely got a piece of him,” Warner said happily. “We’re running the DNA now.”
“What do you want to bet he’s not in the system?” Fin said grumpily. “We’ll have nothing to go on.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” John said as the computer spit out the match.
“Son of a bitch,” Fin answered, looking at the screen. “Javier Ramirez. I collared this bastard when I was in Narcotics for possession. Huang’s right; the guy is an ugly bastard.”
“Violent?” John asked, looking at the screen.
“Dropped complaints from his girlfriend for DV,” Fin said, looking at his file on the computer. “Nothing stuck; she always recanted. I remember her, she kept going back to him ‘cause he had coke.”
“Let’s go pick up our friend,” John said. “Thanks, Melinda.”
Warner nodded, crossing her arms. “Hopefully that’s the last dead body like this you guys bring to me.”
***
Ramirez was in the interrogation room alone, sitting in the chair staring at the one-way mirror. John, Fin, and Cragen were watching him, waiting.
“You two be careful,” Cragen said.
John nodded and Fin scoffed. “I ain’t scared of him, Captain,” Fin said, opening the door.
“You’re going down, punk,” Fin said by way of opening.
“For what?” the guy said, looking at the two detectives. “I didn’t do nothing. You got nothing.”
“You remember them?” John asked, laying pictures of the beaten victims out in front of Ramirez. “’Course, that’s not what they looked like before you got to them, is it?”
“Man, that’s sick, why you gotta show me shit like this?” The guy pushed the pictures away.
“Don’t like seeing your handiwork?” Fin asked, pushing them back. “Look at them!”
“By the way, where are their penises?” John asked conversationally, sitting down across from Ramirez. “See, we never found those.”
“Their what? Yo, man, that’s sick, I didn’t have anything to do with that!”
“You cut off their penises! You bashed in their faces, and you raped them!” Fin snapped.
“You get angry ‘cause they’re gay?” John asked. “Good-looking gay men, that get to you, Javier? You need to teach them a lesson?”
“Yeah, I don’t like gay people, so what? That ain’t a crime. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“See, that’s not true. The last victim has your DNA under his fingernails,” John said. “Are you gonna tell me you two had consensual sex and he scratched you in pleasure?”
“That’s sick,” the guy screamed, standing up and pushing the table away. “That’s vile, I’d never touch another man. You two are gross!”
“So why is your DNA under his fingernails?” Fin asked, storming closer.
“I don’t know! You probably planted it, like you people planted drugs last time!”
“We planted it?” Fin asked disbelievingly. “Next you’re gonna tell me that we went and cut off his penis while he was still alive! You did that, you sick bastard, and you raped them, and we got DNA to prove it, and we’re gonna get evidence from your home!” He was screaming in Javier’s face.
John watched worriedly; he hadn’t noticed this case getting to Fin – Fin had always just laughed it off that it was just another case, but he was snapping now.
“Fin!” he said, pulling his partner back.
“Oh, I get it,” Javier laughed. “You two are gay! No wonder you’re so desperate to close it, you fags. Bet you’re fucking each other too.”
He lunged for Fin, a punch connecting with Fin’s face, and Cragen opened the door hurriedly. He pulled Javier back and cuffed him. “Javier Ramirez, you’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you.”
He turned to John and Fin. “You two, out.”
John didn’t need to be told twice, he left, pulling Fin with him. Fin was still muttering about getting the son of a bitch, and John examined Fin’s face under the light outside the interrogation room. Cragen exited. “You okay?” he asked worriedly.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Let me back in there; I think we rattled the bastard,” Fin snarled.
“You’re not going anywhere near him,” Cragen said firmly. “Neither of you. I don’t trust him not to attack you guys again, and he’s not going to open up to someone he thinks is gay. I’ll do the interview.”
Fin frowned. “Captain…”
John put his arm around Fin’s shoulders and led him away, murmuring softly to him. “He’s going to jail, Fin,” John reassured. “If for nothing else, attacking you like that.”
Fin scoffed. “I’d rather see a needle in his arm for the murders.”
***
Cragen entered the room. “So, Ramirez, you don’t think you’re in enough trouble yet, you’ve got to deck one of my cops?”
“Please, fag was asking for it,” Ramirez scoffed. “Don’t like fags,” he added sourly.
“Yes, we can tell,” Cragen said, pulling the pictures towards him. “I’ve seen your work.”
“Like I told those pillow-biters, I didn’t do that,” Ramirez said. “But I’m glad someone did.”
“So then how did your DNA get under one of our victim’s fingernails?” Cragen asked. “We got enough evidence to put a needle in your arm.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Ramirez said. “Needle?”
“Hate crimes statute,” Cragen said, picking up the pictures.
“If I talk, will that mean you take the death penalty off the table?” he asked worriedly. “I did it, okay? I killed those men – I told you, I don’t like homos – but take the death penalty off the table!”
Novak opened the door. “Not a chance, we got enough to bury you. Book him,” she added to Cragen, “and make sure you add assaulting a police officer to his charges. Fin and Munch know they’re going to have to testify to that?”
“I’ll make sure they know,” Cragen said, standing up. He leaned over to Ramirez. “I don’t usually attend executions, but yours is one I’ll make an exception for.”
***
They were at the bar, celebrating the guilty verdict. Between the search – which had turned up all four penises and eight testicles and an aluminum bat caked in the blood of the victims – the DNA under the fingernails, and the confession, the jury had taken all of an hour to convict Ramirez on all charges (including assaulting Fin).
“They gonna execute the sick son of bitch?” Fin asked, drinking beer this time.
Novak shrugged. “Sentencing’s next week. I’ll recommend the death penalty.” She was sipping a cocktail.
“Good,” Fin said, taking a long drink. “Hopefully the next case will be better.”
John had his arm on the back of Fin’s chair. “I agree. I’m glad this one’s over.” He finally felt like he could relax, stop looking over his shoulder, stop surveying with worry everyone who gave them a second glance. His hand had been near his gun almost constantly for the past few weeks.
The subject changed to lighter topics, the five of them laughing over their drinks, the worry from the past weeks falling by the wayside.
Fin finally got up and turned to John. “You wanna call it a night, John?” he asked, unsteady on his feet again, but dammit, they had earned this celebration. He had been surprised how much the case had gotten to him in the end, and he shot an affectionate (if somewhat drunken) look at John.
“Yeah,” John said, standing up, no less wobbly than Fin.
“You two walking?” Liv asked.
“’Course we are. Perfectly safe now,” Fin added. “I bet even John will agree.”
John shrugged. “It’s never perfectly safe, but yeah, we’re walking.”
They left the bar and Fin glanced down the alleyway. He raised an eyebrow at John.
“We can wait ‘til we get home,” John said, remembering alleyway sex – which had been hot, but he didn’t want to get caught.
Fin laughed and hooked his arm in John’s, walking happily towards their apartment. He leaned in to whisper in John’s ear just exactly what he was going to do to John once they had the door shut.