Part VIII: The Gambit
DA Jack McCoy's conference room. In addition to McCoy, ADAs Essval and Rothschild are there, as are three Race members in official body paint, one that of an Ambassador's Liason and two Legal Councilors. They're sitting around the conference table.
Liaison Dessrep: I'm afraid that releasing Healer Symington into your not-empire's custody is not authorized. He has applied for asylum under the Tosevite Ethnic Refugees act which your not-empire signed.
DA McCoy: Now wait a...what? 'Ethnic Refugee'? He's white Anglo-Saxon protestant! That act covers minorities, which he most definitely is not in this nation! He's taking advantage of the fact that the Race has trouble differentiating ethnicity!
Liaison Dessrep: Healer Symington asserts that he's 1/32nd Mohawk Indian.
DA McCoy: Oh for the love of...look. We didn't know about this supposed ancestry before, and we don't care now. What we care about is that the man murdered another citizen of our nation. A citizen who was a member of your own Race! I'd think you'd want to bring him to justice as much as anyone!
ADA Essval: He killed with a poison deadly only the the Race once...what makes you think he won't start killing in Brazil?
Liaison Dessrep: Healer Symington declares his innocence to the charge. He maintains he's being scapegoated as part of a cover-up. He claims your government was more than happy to kill a Race member that was embarrassing it.
DA McCoy: That it so ludicrous I can't see straight anymore. That's what we call a 'conspiracy theory', and it's the product of addled and paranoid brains.
Liaison Dessrep: (locks eye turrets on McCoy) That matters little. The Application for asylum is being supported. I'm sorry, Judicator McCoy, but the decision is made.
{Dun-Dun}
McCoy's office. ADAs Rothschild and Essval are there. McCoy is pacing, looking irate.
DA McCoy: Of all the ridiculous things...one-thirty-second Mohawk?
ADA Rothschild: It has little to do with ethnicity, Jack. The Empire is making a stand. All the Race members our nation has taken in over the years are an embarrassment to the Empire, and now that they have an asylum-seeker in a high-profile case they're taking the opportunity to strike back.
ADA Essval: She's right. The Race still feels like they're the proper rulers of this planet and the natural rulers of all members of the Race. Every Race member living in America is a slap to the snout.
McCoy paces some more, sighs.
DA McCoy: Look, I want that so-called doctor and I want him now. The Mayor is on my case to end this media circus because the Governor is on his case! We need to find a way.
ADA Essval: Do we have any prisoners to exchange?
ADA Rothschild: We made need to call the State Department.
DA McCoy: The speed in which federal wheels turn is far too slow for me. We need to gain leverage directly. (thinks) The Fat-Stripers!
ADA Rothschild: What?
DA McCoy: the Fat-Stripers! Those mystery-Lizards with the hidden body paint signs. One theory is that they're Imperial anti-ginger agents. I bet if we start bringing them in and disrupt the Empire's operations we can really get the ball rolling.
ADA Essval: And on what pretext do we start arresting these Race members?
DA McCoy: Put out an APB. The Fat-Stripers are to be considered a dangerous gang. Enhanced RICO investigation methods are authorized.
ADA Essval (horrified): You're authorizing the flagrant targeting of any Race member with hidden body paint?!
DA McCoy: Yes. Officers are authorized to approach all Fat-Stripers under suspicion of ginger possession.
ADA Rothschild: So you're basically giving the Precinct carte blanche to profile Fat-Stripers. The press might not like that.
DA McCoy: They will when it's know that they're 'dangerous members of a new organized crime syndicate.'
ADA Essval: Press, hell...wait until the FBI hears this. I'm sure you'll be trampling on their investigation.
{Cut Scene}
A street corner. Three Race members are talking animatedly. Two are El Lagarto gang, one is in Janitorial body paint with a wide lateral blue stripe. It appears to be a ginger deal in progress. Two uniformed officers approach.
Officer 1: Excuse me, but could we have a word with you guys?
The El Lagato members bolt. The second uniformed officer runs and is quickly able to grab the Fat-Striper before he too bolts.
Officer 2 (pulling out a baggie of ginger): Well, well...doing a little Cantonese cooking?
{Cut Scene}
Two other uniformed officers are in a patrol car driving down Pitt.
Officer 2 (passenger seat): Hey, look. (points to a Race member in Vehicle Operator's body paint walking down the street)
Officer 1: Looks like another bad paint job. (throws on siren, pulls over)
Officer 2 (getting out of the car; 'cameraman' in the back seat follows): Excuse me, may we have a word?
{Cut Scene}
9th Precinct. Detectives T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons are walking past a loud room full of hissing, yelling Race members, all Fat-Stripers.
Det. Fitzsimmons: Looks like 'Operation Fatty' has been a success.
Det. T'Surlak: If only we did this with real gangs maybe we could finally get those thugs off the streets. Why are we after these guys anyway? Assuming Munch is right isn't international espionage a little over our pay grades?
Det Fitzsimmons: Knowing Jack he's got some crazy plan...like getting Doctor Death extradited.
Det. T'Surlak: As if our job wasn't addled enough.
{Cut Scene}
McCoy's office. DA McCoy is on the phone. ADAs Essval and Rothschild are there.
DA McCoy: Yes...yes...oh, really? Hot damn, that's the best news I;ve had in a month! (hangs up) We got him!
ADA Rothschild: Symington?
DA McCoy: Doctor Death in on a transport to La Guardia as we speak!
{Cut Scene}
La Guardia Airport. Dr. Symington is walking down the terminal. An armada of press has converged. He attempts to cover his face. Dets. T'Surlak and Fitzsimmons approach.
{Dramatic Music}
Det. T'Surlak: Eugene Symington, aka 'Eugenitas Falk', you are under arrest for the murder of Komodo. (starts to handcuff him and starts to read him his rights) 'You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney...'
Dr. Symington: This is ridiculous! Komodo was my friend and patient!
Det. Fitzsimmons (guiding him along with a hand on the back): Yea, nothing says friendship like a fatal Hot Shot for breakfast.