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If someone were to have told Sam ten years ago that this would be how he meets his brother again for the first time since his fourth year at Stanford he... probably would have believed it.
After Sam finished school he had moved back to Kansas, Wichita this time, instead of Laurence, and become a public defence lawyer. He wanted to help people who weren't fortunate enough to afford their own lawyer.
He was in his office finishing the paperwork from his last case when his boss knocked on his door with a new case for him.
She was a short woman who always seemed to be completely in command of whatever room she walked into.
"Here's his files,” She said putting down a thick binder, “This one isn't going to be easy, but you're our best,” Sam half smiled at the compliment, "He's got more charges against him than I've seen in my three decades of running this firm, a real piece of work. We have no idea what his real name is but he seems to like the name 'Harold Saxon’,” She emphasized the name with air quotes, “Sounds fake if you ask me. Good luck Winchester,” She called behind her as she left the room, “You'll need it.”
Sam opened the binder to start looking through the charges. There was no picture of the guy, no home address, not even a social security number, only the name Harold Saxon. Sam flipped to the next page where there was a long list of charges.
Necrophilia.
Ok, that's a strong start.
Grave desecration, serial mass murder, arson, credit card fraud, shoplifting, armed robbery, grand theft auto, impersonation of federal agents, identity theft, kidnapping, assault and battery, trespassing, owning weapons without permits, escaping from prison, assaulting a police officer, breaking and entering, grand larceny, tampering with crime scenes, tax evasion, torture, faking his own death.
Looking through the binder there was a lot of evidence against Saxon. Most of it would be more damning than anything Sam had ever seen except for the fact that the man’s entire body was always blurred. Almost like there was a different, slightly inhuman creature layered over him in every image.
A lot of the crime scenes looked far to similar to the aftermath of a hunt for Sam's comfort. But Saxon couldn't be a hunter. Hunters were smarter than that, “always make sure you don't leave any trace that could lead back to you,” his brother always told him.
This was going to be a long and damn near impossible trial.