Date: Thu, 08 Sep 2005 21:23:41 -0700
From: RC in Sacramento <sacwriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: Munchkin chpter 23

This is a work of fiction. It depicts the often sexual relationship between
two young girls. If this offends you or if you're not old enough to be
reading this stuff, then get out NOW. If, however, you're where you want to
be, then enjoy.

			 MUNCHKIN
			 Chapter 23
			by Sacwriter


	Gia had been on the third floor when she heard the personal alarm
echo faintly down through the hall. It was muffled, and if the hallways
hadn't of been empty, chances were that she wouldn't have heard it at all.
As it was the sound was so distorted that she couldn't tell for sure where
it had come from, and by the time she had managed to run to the end of the
corridor, the sound had stopped completely. She quickly descended the stairs
to the second floor, the one where Joe's locker was at, but the halls there
were empty also. Even the police who had guarded his locker were gone, with
only the yellow tape still plastered over the bent metal door to testify
that anything violent had ever happened there.
	Finally Gia descended to the first floor, getting more and more frantic, as
the emptiness and silence of the hallways seemed to be shouting at her.  She
knew how Gary Harper and his jackals had first assaulted Joe on this floor,
and were going to drag him into the nearest lavatory to finish the job.
Remembering that, she had checked every boys restroom in her search, and at
the end of this hallway she did so again. As with the others she didn't
bother to knock, she just burst in, only this time the sight before her made
her freeze in shock.
	 Joe stood there in the middle of the boys' restroom, swaying drunkenly on
his feet, his eyes glazed and unfocused as he stared in her direction. Blood
clotted and dripped from a face that was already beginning to swell,
staining a shirt that was too torn to ever be worn again anyway. His hands,
tiny as a girls, were as gashed and bloody as the rest of him, still
clenched into unthinking fists.
	Gia had fought in practice bouts more times than she could ever count, and
with her fiery temper she had been in her fair share of the real thing. She
had also seen dozens more of hard fought fights were the opponents were so
evenly matched that even the winner had been as thoroughly damaged as the
loser. But she had never seen a winner as badly chewed up as Joe Munson now
was.
	Gia looked down at the broken figures on the floor, her professional's eye
quickly taking in their states. She decided that none of the three boys
before her was in critical condition, so she decided to take her time and
make sure Joe was taken care of first. She was also aware that there could
be more consequences to her friend for his actions today, other than the
obvious injuries she saw now.
	Joe stared at her, but it was clear he wasn't really seeing. Gia bit her
lower lip, thinking. Shock, or something like it. More likely he had just
had the wits knocked out of him. Whatever it was, she needed to get him out
of here, make sure the police and Principal Garrett saw him before they saw
the others.
	She looked around, found the object she knew was there underneath one of
the urinals. She walked past Joe, noting how his eyes followed her
automatically, and knelt to pick up the baton he had. She held it by the
handle and then reversed it, now gripping it like a dagger. With a quick
thrust she jammed it point downwards against the ground, compressing the
spring inside in a practiced move, and collapsing it until the catch gave
with a loud click. She rose to her feet, then slid the baton past the belt
of her jeans and down her leg, making sure that it was hidden. She'd have to
make sure nobody saw it when she slipped it back into Becka's purse.
	"Joe," she said, softly, and was heartened when she saw him blink and
finally begin to focus. "Joe, we have to go now. Okay? I'm going to take you
to the nurse, okay?" It took awhile, but the battered friend before her
finally nodded, and Gia let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been
holding. Then she took him by the arm and gently led him out of that cold
and blood-splattered place. She paused at the door to look back, but Joe
never did.

* * *
	At the Principal's office, there arrival caused quiet a stir. One look at
the battered boy, and Joe was immediately taken from her and hustled into
the Nurse's station. Gia took the opportunity to quietly return the baton to
Becka's purse, then quickly followed Joe and his new entourage into the
back.
	Becka had come to her feet and was hovering anxiously over their friend
along with two teachers and a nurse, but her head snapped up the instant her
sister came into the room. Her first thought was that Joe looked like he'd
been put through a meat grinder, and she noticed that he was favoring the
arm he had dislocated a couple of days ago. She shot Gia a question with her
eyes, but the younger girl shook her head in their silent communication, and
mouthed the words `He won'. Becka's eyebrows shot up and her mouth dropped
in surprise. She glanced over at Joe's battered face, and then back to Gia,
who only shrugged in reply. A grin slowly spread across Becka's face,
growing to huge proportions.
	Two figures suddenly filled the doorway, and Gia looked up to see Principal
Garrett and Sgt. Breen enter the small room. Both men immediately turned
their attention to the nurse and her new patient, and Gia watched with
interest the different expressions that crossed their faces. Her Principal's
countenance reflected shock at the sight of Joe's torn clothing and battered
body, along with healthy doses of concern, compassion, and even a portion of
guilt. She heard him murmur, "Oh, my sweet Lord", and decided that this was
exactly what she would want to see in a teacher who really cared for his
students. Her respect for the man who had given her and her sister so many
detention slips rose by several notches.
	But the county cop's face showed none of this. Instead his countenance had
turned blank and unreadable, all the while watching the other adults as they
fussed over their new patient. She sensed it wasn't that he was cold or
unfeeling of Joe's plight, but rather that he was a professional, who had
seen this and worse many times before. This was a man who wouldn't let his
emotions sway his judgment. She knew instinctively that Sgt. Breen was the
one who held the most danger for her friend, and she handled that danger in
typical Gia fashion. She attacked.
	"So now you fucking show up! First they try to blow him up, and now they
try to beat him to death, and yet where the hell were you? What, were they
serving doughnuts in the cafeteria today?"
	Sgt. Breen's face took on a sudden and more stone-like cast, while Garrett
was left to splutter. "Gia!... Miss Cameron, that will be enough of---"
	"LOOK AT HIM!!" she shrieked, pointing a sweeping arm dramatically behind
her, but not taking her eyes from the two authority figures she was
attempting to browbeat. "They've tried to kill him twice today, and where
were you? What did either of you do to try and prevent this? We told you who
put that bomb in Joe's locker, but you didn't arrest them, you didn't even
try to talk to them! You had an army of police here today, picking up the
pieces and bagging all your stupid little bits of evidence, and you never
even thought to have someone keep an eye on their intended victim. So what,
are you going to wait until he's dead before you finally get around to doing
your jobs?"
	The small Latina was glaring so fiercely at the two men that even the
hardened cop began to look uncomfortable. Behind her Joe began to stir,
finally brought out of his lethargy by Gia's tirade. As she continued her
reaming, he started to feel guilty. Okay, so he had been whipped on pretty
badly, but he had given back a lot more than what he'd got, hadn't he? That
sure was nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, it wasn't Garrett or that police
guy's fault that he had gotten into another fight, this time he had actually
gone out and looked for it. He started to say as much. "Gia..."
	Becka, who had quietly taken a seat on the cot next to him, suddenly
reached an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. Joe
gasped at the sudden pressure on uncounted bruises and contusions, but he
managed to keep it quiet as the blonde girl hissed in his ear.
	"Shut up, dumbass! Play along. Gia knows what she's doing."
	Joe swallowed, but gave a slight nod and held his tongue. He and Becka
turned back to watch the show, where Sgt. Breen had finally managed to
insert a few words into Gia's diatribe.
	"Alright, Miss Cameron, that will be enough!" the sergeant snapped, his own
anger finally coming out to play. Gia stopped her ranting, but she still
glared accusingly up at him. She had faced far too many cops on the training
mats of their family dojo to be so easily intimidated. Sgt Breen glared
back, but eventually he took a deep breath and glanced away. When he looked
at her again, he spoke with a much calmer voice that still showed the strain
it took to control himself.
	"For your information, Miss Cameron, after talking to you and your sister
before, one of the first things my officers and I did was to look for your
friend. But we couldn't find him. He wasn't in any of his classes, nor was
he in the library, the cafeteria, or any of the break areas. Until a few
minutes ago, both of my men were outside searching the school grounds for
any trace of him, and I had a unit on its way to Joe's house to look for him
there. Now, was that effort good enough for you, or should we have called
out the National Guard, too?"
	Gia looked away and sniffed, obviously mollified but not yet willing to
show it. "Yeah, well. Maybe. But what were you doing while all this was
going on?"
	On the cot, Becka turned her head towards Joe and hugged him tighter, while
he buried his bandaged face into her hair. Both were trying very hard not to
be seen smiling. That, they decided, would have been very bad. Sgt. Breen's
face was beginning to take on a definite reddish hue, when Principal Garrett
stepped into the conversation.
	"The sergeant and I have been out trying to find Gary Harper, Matt Ingles,
and Ron Hooker. The same three young men who you informed us of. Neither of
them were in their last classes, either. So as you can see, we do know our
jobs, and have been out doing them. And right now the very last thing I need
today, Miss Cameron, is a seventeen year old student telling me that I
don't!"
	"Uhhh..." Gia found herself swallowing and looking down, deflating under the
older man's intense gaze, as he so unsubtly reminded her just who it was she
was ranting at. Garrett's entire speech had been said in the tone of
authority that only a teacher with nearly twenty years of experience could
muster.  Behind her Becka and Joe both found something else to look at.
Suddenly baiting authority wasn't as much fun as it had started out to be.
	Both adults were now looking squarely at the three of them, waiting for
either an apology or another exchange of fire, when the tension was
unexpectedly terminated by the arrival of the Vice Principal. She held a
brief, whispered conversation with her superior and the uniformed police
officer, which caused the two men to glance sharply at the teens. Without
another word all three adults quickly filed out of the room, leaving at
least one person to wonder what was going on.
	"What?" Becka asked, puzzled. "Where'd they go now?"
	Gia sighed. "I'm not sure, love, but I'd be willing to bet that they just
found Gary Harper and his two misfits. We left them kind of lying around on
the floor of the boy's room down the hall."
	Becka blinked. "What, you mean the same one...?"
	Gia laughed. "Yeah, the same one. Poetic, isn't it?"
	Becka grinned in delight, giving the boy next to her another bone mashing
hug. "Fucking A, it's poetic! And you think they've been just laying there
all this time? What the hell did you guys do to them?"
	"Not me, they were already down for the count when I got there. Joe did it
all. It was great, but there's a problem with this. He used that spring
baton he lifted out of your purse on them."
	Becka shrugged. "Yeah, so? There were three of them and they'd already done
this to me. They would have killed Joe if he hadn't had that stick. What
else was he going to do, roll over and play dead?"
	But Gia was shaking her head. "You don't get it yet, little girl. You
haven't thought it through. He swiped that baton, and then he went out into
the halls looking for those guys. Joe, did those three chase you, or did you
lead them into that room?"
	Joe blinked, unable to quite understand where this was going. "Uh, well,
yeah. I mean, yes, I went looking for them. I knew what class Harper had
that period, so I went there and I waited. And then I let them see me, and,
um, you know. I let them chase me. Into the bathroom. And I waited there for
them."
	Becka threw back her head and moaned, finally getting it. "Ah, hell, Joe.
Gia's right, you're screwed. Legally that's called `lying in wait', which
means that you had prior intent to hurt those guys. And if they can prove
that, the cops may end up pressing charges against you."
	"But... but how do you know that?"
	Becka shrugged. "Our Dad. One of the things he teaches at the dojo are the
legal aspects of using violence. Sometimes he even has a cop or a lawyer
friend come down and give lectures on the subject."
	Joe felt like Gary Harper was ramming his head against the sink again,
causing a pounding that seemed to resonate throughout his entire body. After
a moment he realized that he had stopped breathing and forced his lungs to
take in a deep, ragged inhalation. Thinking then that after all they had
done to him, all that they had done to Becka, and now he was the one who
would go to jail for it?! His stomach churned and knotted, the injustice of
it all making him feel sick...
	The sudden urge to give in at the unfairness of it all was almost
overwhelming. Joe fought it desperately. At that moment he would have rather
died than have his two friends see him shed the hot tears that now burned at
the back of his eyes.
	Gia bent down and grabbed his hand, holding the cut and swollen flesh
between her own soft fingers. She squatted down on her heels so that she
could look him in the eye as she talked.
	"Look, none of that is going to happen, okay? Considering the
circumstances, I really doubt that any prosecutor in his right mind would
ever come after you. But the fact is, if they want to they can. That's why I
took that baton and put it back into Becka's purse. Hopefully, they won't
even ask about it. Just stick to the facts; those three goons put a bomb in
your locker, and when it didn't work they followed you into the bathroom and
jumped you. You defended yourself, end of story."
	"What... I mean, you want me to lie about it?"
	Becka snorted, shaking her head. "No, uhn uhh. Rule of thumb, Joe. Never
lie to the police. If they catch you in a direct lie, there are a thousand
ways they can mess you up. But if they don't ask, you don't have to tell,
alright? Tell `em the truth, just not all of it."
	Joe looked at Gia, who nodded in silent agreement with her sister's words.
He licked at his lips nervously, and for the first time really began to
logically consider the ramifications of his situation. Bizarre as it seemed,
he realized that he could actually go to jail for what he had done. He tried
to find something to say to this, to reply, but his tired brain was having
trouble forming the words. In the end he was saved from having to by an
angry voice coming from outside the door.
	The three teens shared a solemn look, as they all recognized the raised
voice of Becka and Gia's father.

* * *
	Sgt. Mike Breen looked on impassively as the school nurse treated the three
teenage boys gathered in the empty classroom, knowing that the woman's
skills wouldn't be nearly enough. Their injuries included cracked ribs,
broken teeth, two possible concussions, and unless he missed his guess a
broken jaw. One of the very first things the nurse had done was to call for
an ambulance, knowing when she was out of her league. Breen could only shake
his head in self disgust. Those damned kids had really made a fool out of
him.
	The school's principal came over, looking more than a little lost himself.
Breen could sympathize, the poor guy was a big fish but only in such a
little pond. A high school out in the suburbs, mostly upper middle class
families and their offspring. Christ, they didn't even have gang problems
out here! And then all in one afternoon he gets a bomb, an invasion of cops,
and now this. At least nobody was dead, maimed or crippled, which was the
kind of collateral damage Mike had to deal with every day, but still you had
to feel for the guy.
	"My God, I don't believe this. I've never... five of my students, all
hospitalized in the same day. In all the time I've been at Roosevelt, this
is the worse case of violence I've ever seen." Garrett sighed, shaking his
head. "This is so bad. But then, I suppose you must've seen a lot worse."
	Breen nodded, then shrugged. "Violence is a comparative thing, Mr. Garrett.
Yes, compared to gang areas like Compton in L.A. this is pretty tame, but
like you said this is new for here. Have you known these boys for long?"
	"Oh, yes, almost four years."
	"Then that makes it even worse. You never really expect something like this
to happen to someone you know."
	Instead of agreeing Garrett surprised him with a contemptuous snort. "Oh, I
wouldn't say I never expected something like this. As I said, I know these
three, they're the biggest trouble makers in the entire school. They're
thugs and bullies of the worse sort, and they've run roughshod over the
other students for years. I would have gladly expelled them a long time ago,
if I could have ever gotten enough proof to do so."
	The educator shook his head. "No, I'm not surprised that these three ended
up hurt like this. I think I always expected them to try their brand of crap
on the wrong person someday. I just never in a million years expected it to
be someone like little Joe Munson."
	Breen snorted, leading the other man through the doorway and out into the
hall. "I wouldn't worry too much about that. Someone else was involved.
There's no way in hell that kid did that much damage to those punks in
there."
	Garrett looked at him, surprised. "But you saw the condition Joe was in.
You know he's been in a fight. And Gary Harper and the Ingles boy both say
that it was Joe who did that to them."
	"Yeah, and they also said that he followed them into the restroom and
attacked without provocation. Look, the Munson boy isn't even five foot
tall, and although Harper isn't all that big, Ingles and Hooker are both
pushing six feet. Like you said, they're all a bunch of thugs. Alright, so
maybe they did cause all those injuries to Joe, but there is no way that a
kid they've been picking on for four years suddenly jumps those three
bruisers and inflicts that kind of harm. No, I think it's much more likely
that they jumped him and that somebody else, and probably more than one
somebody, jumped in and evened things out. And for some reason, those three
are lying about it."
	"But... wait, you don't think that Gia Cameron did this then, do you"
	Breen couldn't help it, he laughed. "What, that little girl with the big
mouth? She'd stand less of a chance against those three than the kid would."
	For a moment Garrett stared back at him, perplexed, and then the light of
understanding shown through his eyes. "Oh, that's right. You don't know who
the Camerons are, do you?"
	"Know them? Why, is the family important or something?"
	"Something like that," Garrett said, cryptically. He looked past Breen at
something down the hall, and then suddenly drew himself up. "Ermm, it looks
like you're about to meet some of them, anyway."
	Breen turned around and followed the other man's gaze. Coming down the
hallway were three Hispanic men, two of them of middle years and one in his
early twenties. All three of them were on the plus size, but one of the
older men was positively huge. Six foot six, he guessed, and between three
fifty and four hundred pounds, almost none of it fat. He looked like an
Abrams tank in a checked shirt, and like the other two men with him his
mouth was set in a grim line that promised a bad time for somebody in the
near future.
	But as they got closer Sgt. Breen found himself reassessing the trio, and
felt his eyes narrow as he took in the leading figure. Although he was
smaller than the other two men there was something about the way he moved
that sent up all sorts of warning flags to the experienced cop. Something in
his body language that said, `wherever I go, I am the toughest son of a
bitch in the room'.
	Mike Breen found himself standing straighter as the three men approached.
They stopped a few feet in front of him, and their leader exchanged nods
with the school principal before turning his face to Mike. The hard looking
man offered him his hand and said, "Hello, I'm Phil Cameron. Becka and Gia
are my daughters, and I'd really appreciate hearing what the hell's been
going on here."
	"Mike Breen," he said, taking the man's hand, not surprised to find he had
a strong, firm grip. When he let go he found his hand was now being engulfed
in a five fingered industrial vice, as the larger man from behind reached
out to introduce himself. "I'm Manuel Cameron, Phil's brother, and this is
my son Tom. I know we don't have as much right to be down here as he does,
but Phil was over at our place working on one of my trucks when he got the
call to come down. We're not here to get in anybody's way, we were just
concerned about the girls."
	Mike felt surprised, and more than a little embarrassed. He realized that
after Gia Cameron's earlier display he had been anticipating belligerence
from the girl's father. But despite the obvious sense of danger surrounding
him the man seemed totally rational, making no demands and asking only the
questions he would have expected from any concerned father. Mike could only
wish that all parents he ran into were this reasonable.
	"Phil, the girls are alright. They're back in the Nurse's station, I was
just waiting for you to get here before sending Becka to the hospital,"
Garrett said.
	"Yeah, Jack, I've already seen them. Although I'm not sure that I'd call
having a broken nose as `alright'. And Joe Munson looked like he'd been
through a war zone."
	"You should see the other guys," Mike said, nodding his head at the
classroom. "They can barely walk. They claim that Joe followed them into the
bathroom over there and attacked them. But I'm having a little trouble with
that story."
	Phil nodded, looking over at the bathroom across the hall speculatively.
"Yeah, I guess you would. Mind if I take a look at the crime scene?"
	"Sure, go ahead. We're not calling out the forensics team on this one."
Mike led the way across the hall and through the heavy metal door, followed
by Phil and Garrett, the other two Cameron men declining. Once inside the
three men clustered at the center of the room, turning slowly to see the
patches of red that streaked the walls and porcelain fixtures, and bore mute
testimony to the violence that happened there less than an hour ago. After a
long while the girls' father finally nodded his head, obviously satisfied
with what he had had seen. When he spoke it was in a tone of unwavering
confidence.
	"Yeah, I can see it. Joe could have taken those three punks, especially if
they were stupid enough to corner him in a place like this. Big enough for
him to maneuver in, yet tight enough that they'd be tripping over each
other. He could have done it, and I'll testify as much if I have to."
	"Oh, you will, will you?" Mike commented, one eyebrow quirking up
sarcastically. "And you think your testimony is relevant in this
investigation because...?"
	For an answer Phil reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet,
from the depths of which he produced a business card. He handed the card to
Mike, who frowned as he recognized the words on it.
	"Cameron Martial Arts. I own the place, and all of my kids teach classes
there. Joe's been staying with us ever since those goons started hassling
him a week ago, and we've all been teaching him how to defend himself. And
in my professional opinion, it's more than possible that he could've caused
this much damage while defending himself against three assailants."
	Mike was nodding thoughtfully, considering all the new ramifications the
little card in his hands now brought to the investigation. "Yeah, I've heard
of you, Mr. Cameron. A lot of my guys go to you for training. Hell, I'm on
the waiting list for one of your classes in take down procedures. This does
change things, but I'm afraid it's not for the better."
	"How so?" Garrett asked, his voice showing his surprise. "Doesn't this
prove that Joe was only defending himself?"
	"No, it only proves that he could have beaten those other boys all by
himself. Look, before this I was leaning towards the theory that Harper,
Ingles and Hooker cornered Joe in here and assaulted him, and that some of
Joe's friends came to his rescue. But now that I know he could have done
this by himself, I have to consider that the other three boys were telling
the truth, and that Joe attacked them first and they  were the ones
defending themselves. And there's some damned hard evidence that supports
their story."
	"Oh yeah? And what evidence is that?" Phil asked.
	"The weapon. All three boys state that Joe attacked them with a club or a
piece of pipe. And all of them are currently bearing long, bar shaped
bruises that are consistent with such a weapon. And yet there's no such
weapon here, on the site of the assault, nor anything else that could have
been used to cause those marks.
	"Think about it. Even if Joe is telling the truth and those three followed
him in here, he must have already been carrying a weapon, one that he then
carried out of the room with him. That makes for a strong case that Joe led
them in here, which means---"
	"Lying in wait, yeah, I know," the other man answered, rubbing his chin and
looking around the room with an increased focus. Mike got the distinct
impression that the large man was taking the room apart piece by piece with
his eyes. Abruptly he stopped, and in two strides he reached a far corner
and bent down. When he turned he was holding the triangular shape of the
trash can lid.
	"There's blood on this," the big man said, pointing to a large red smear on
the edge of the swinging lid door. "Someone used this as a club. And from
the shape of it, this would have left bruises just like you said, long and
bar like."
	But the county cop was shaking his head. "I know, I saw that too. But it
just doesn't fly, it's too big and unwieldy. You couldn't put enough force
behind it to leave that many bruises."
	"You think so?" Phil asked, mildly. Before Mike had a chance to wonder at
the meaning behind his words Phil Cameron suddenly spun. The heavy metal lid
in his hands crashed out, a white blur, to hit the side of the nearest stall
with a sound of metal crashing. The lid rebounded, leaving a long and deep
dent in the side of the stall.
	"I beg to differ," he said, in a very self satisfied tone that rubbed Mike
the wrong way. Apparently the school principal wasn't too happy with the
other man's performance, either.
	"And you will, of course, be paying for that stall, won't you, Phil?" he
asked, sardonically.
	The big man ducked his head sheepishly. "Umm, yeah, Jack. Sorry. But I hope
I've proved my point here? That it's entirely possible for Joe to have
caused those injuries, using an object he found here and not a weapon he had
to bring with him."
	"Oh, yeah, it's possible alright," Mike answered, his mouth twisting wryly.
"He could have done that. If he were a third or fourth degree blackbelt." He
sighed, then looked around, considering. "Okay, I don't want to charge the
kid, either. As far as I can tell, these guys brought it on themselves. So
maybe I can sell that to the D.A."
	"Try selling this, too." Phil kicked at a piece of yellow broken plastic,
sending it skittering across the floor. "That's the remains of a personal
alarm that my girls gave to Joe for protection. Gia said that she found Joe
when she heard the alarm going off. If you're intent on ambushing somebody,
you don't advertise the fact with a screamer. Did Jack fill you in on what's
been happening this past week between Joe and these losers?"
	Breen nodded. "He said they been bullying him for years, and that two of
them tried some heavy handed stuff in the cafeteria yesterday, but that the
kid fought back along with some of his friends. Why, is there more to the
story than that?"
	"Hell, yes. My girls got involved when Becka saw Hooker and those other two
beating Joe up in front of his locker. In a crowded hallway in the middle of
the day, and no one else was stepping forward. Then the next day they
dragged him into this very bathroom, and tried to rape him. When Becka
barged in they had his pants down and Harper had his dick out."
	Breen's eyes narrowed at this new information, and from the shocked look on
Garrett's face he figured this was also news to the school's top official.
"Mr. Cameron, that's a pretty serious charge. You mind telling me why you
waited to report this until now?"
	"Because Joe wouldn't talk to me about it. He wasn't able to, not until a
few minutes ago when I saw him in the Nurse's station. I knew there was some
sort of assault that happened, but the girls wouldn't betray his privacy.
They know enough about rape victims not to do anything to betray trust."
	Sgt. Breen peered thoughtfully at the other man, wondering about the
hardness that had crept into his voice. He had moved out of the restroom by
now, the other two men had followed, and the three of them were drifting
down the hallway in the general direction of the front office areas. There
was a story here, he knew it instinctively, but he also figured that it had
nothing to do with the current case. So he put those questions to the side
and concentrated on the here and now.
	"Okay, so your daughter is a witness to the assault, and Joe now appears
willing to talk about it. That's still two people against three, with no
physical evidence to back it up. Do you have anything else to prove that the
assault was sexual?"
	"Yeah, do you know Margie Dowd? Works over at Social Services in Child
Protection?"
	Mike nodded. "Yeah, everyone knows Margie. She practically runs that place.
So what's her involvement in this?"
	"Margie and I are, umm, I guess you'd say we're involved. She was over at
our house for a barbecue Saturday, the day the girls brought Joe to stay
with us. Joe had a panic attack right in front of her, and she spent a
couple of hours talking to him and getting the story. Is her testimony on
the subject any good?"
	"Ha!" Mike barked, smiling for the first time. "Are you serious? Margie
Dowd's word is golden in any courtroom in this county. If she says that in
her opinion this kid was molested, or almost molested, there's not a judge I
know of who'll even bother to question it. Okay, so now I don't think Joe
has anything to fear from the D.A., not with all this on his side.
Unfortunately, I don't think it'll help us put his assailants away, at least
not for very long. Six months, maybe, tops."
	Phil began to scowl, like a dark cloud that suddenly forms in a crystal
blue sky.
	"Are you saying that these little bastards are going to get away with
assault, rape, and almost killing my daughter, and the most you can get them
for is six months?!"
	"Attempted  rape, and an unwitnessed assault,where the attackers ended up
looking twice as bad as the victim. And to top it off, they're all three
still juveniles. No, the only thing that could get them tried as adults
would be the assault with an incendiary device charge. That's considered a
terrorist act, and in this political climate they'll get the book thrown at
them.
	"But that still leaves the problem of proving they put that blasting cap in
his locker. We haven't got a thing, not one piece of hard evidence that ties
them to that crime. So I'm asking, do you have any ideas? Well? Yeah, I
thought not."


(continued)