Skeleton Crew Part 2
(“A Consequence of Choices”)

Author: McRose
Prompt: ‘What if’ Mac has been assigned to defend Harm when he was charged with killing Diane?


Chapter 1


JAG HQ
RADM Chegwidden’s office
Monday, 3 June 1996/0800

“Commander, you can’t try court-martial cases or see clients until you’re cleared. I’ll have the head of the Claims and Tort Litigation Division assign you some cases. You can hone your research and writing skills.”

AJ sighed and spoke more gently. “At ease, Commander …. sit down Harm. How are you doing?”

“I’m all right, Admiral,” Harm mumbled, trying to focus on a spot on the wall behind his CO’s head.

“Harm. What was she to you?” After barely three months in command, AJ still wasn’t sure if Rabb was truly a trouble magnet or if it was just dumb luck. More importantly, what would be the long-term impact on this truly outstanding judge advocate? AJ didn’t doubt for a minute that Rabb had nothing to do with the LT’s unfortunate demise.

“She was my friend.”….“Sir,” Harm added hastily. “We four – she and I, Keeter and Sturgis – we met our first day at the Academy. We were the ‘four mouseketeers.’” Harm stumbled, “like in the book…well, not quite….”

“Sir, I didn’t kill her!”

“Son, I believe you. That’s why you’re not in pre-trial confinement. Harm, I’ve asked the Commandant to loan me his best defense counsel, preferably one who’s ‘death qualified’ …no, don’t look like that – I just want his best. Austin doesn’t have enough experience and every Navy defense counsel on the east coast has recused himself or herself – they all say they want to testify on your behalf.”

“Aye Sir.” Harm kept his eyes fastened on that spot on the wall.

“All right. You’d better get to work. The Marine should be here by tomorrow afternoon. The Convening Authority wants a ‘speedy 32’ so it's been docketed for next Monday, unless your counsel wants a continuance.”

"I want to get it over with, Sir." Harm wondered, not for the first time, if he was still dreaming and his alarm clock would go off soon. Or, would his next dream be a nightmare of life in Leavenworth?

*************

Harm’s Office
Next day, about 1400/2:00pm

There were exactly three stacks of folders on his desk: “In”—which approached being close to four inches high, “Out”—his practiced eye measured the height as being approximately two inches high—at least he was making progress!!—and “in process”—his practice was to work on three or four files at the same time. His thinking: if he got “bored” with one file, he would move on to the next, hoping “inspiration” would strike—as it often did on a “real” case. Then, when he got bored with that second file, depending on his mood and/or restlessness, he would either go to a third file or move back to the original file. Tort claims—he understood that millions of dollars – not just the “government’s” money – but the taxpayers – were potentially at stake. However, torts hadn’t been his strongest subject in law school, and …at this particular point – on this particular day in his life – he craved action, not research and writing.

At the moment, he was leaning back in his chair, pen tapping against his lower lip, and “taking a break” from the medical malpractice case he was reviewing. Settle the claim by paying a “reasonable” amount of money or deny the claim and let her sue – then go to trial – assuming some overworked Assistant U.S. Attorney didn’t settle? Was the patient – a Navy spouse – just not satisfied with the outcome or had the surgeon been negligent, scarring her for life? Review the JAGMAN investigation; review the additional outside expert’s opinion BUMED had obtained; check the databases and Lexis for similar cases….make a recommendation. He really couldn’t blame the Admiral, given the current circumstances, but g_d, this was just not his “thing.” He grimaced. Having served under the Admiral only a short period of time, he didn’t know whether this was the Admiral’s own form of “punishment” detail awarded simply because he had somehow gotten himself mixed up in this awkward situation or whether it was “busy” work, just to keep him out of even more trouble. He knew one of the attorneys in the Claims and Tort Litigation Division would be checking his work. He suspected the Admiral knew he would have much rather been “out there” doing the actual investigation on Diane’s murder—and look where that had gotten him! There was going to be an actual Article 32 investigation, with him as the accused.

He still found it difficult to believe he was facing this hearing. He was caught up in memories of Diane, “tripping down memory lane” remembering all the pranks they had pulled—along with Keeter and a very reluctant Turner. The trio had tugged the strait-laced PK—preacher’s kid—into plenty of mischief! There was a slight smile on his face as his eyes gazed out the window, seeing but not really seeing the crisp sunshine outside his window. The ‘four mouseketeers’ were now three. He and Keeter kept in pretty close touch, talking once a month or so, getting together when they could. With Sturgis having gone into the submarine service, their contact was more limited. Deployed on patrol, he didn’t even know Diane was dead.

A knock on his door brought his attention back to the present and he whirled his head around—and just about passed out. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he would have. He could feel all the blood drain from his head and for just a couple of seconds, he literally lost his sight.

It was Diane come back to life, this time wearing a Marine Major’s uniform.

“Commander?” The voice was different, lower and far more serious than Diane’s voice had ever thought of being.

He shook himself out of his reverie and stood up and started coming around his desk. His innate courtesy had resurrected itself and brought her to the forefront of his attention. “Can I help you, Major?”

“I’m Sarah MacKenzie – ‘Mac’ —your defense counsel for your Article 32 hearing.”

He stretched forth his hand for her to shake it—and motioned her into his office at the same time. “Come in, please. I’ve been waiting to meet you.” He made his way back to his chair, shrugging his shoulder in a self-conscious way and waving away the stacks of folders on his desk. “The Admiral’s had me busy on ‘paperwork’ – uh-h-h – tort claims. Mostly med mals. I know a lot of money’s at stake, so it’s not really just ‘pushing papers’ …but…” He leaned down to clear away a spot. He was nervous, and he was well aware of it. All of this was “make busy” to disguise that nervousness.

The Marine officer sat down, carefully putting her briefcase down beside her and waving a hand over her skirt to make sure it remained wrinkle-free. She commented, as she watched him reseat himself. “I know you’re nervous. Article 32 hearings can do that to a person.”

He leaned back in his chair, resuming the position he had when the Major had interrupted him. He just stared at her and she squirmed under his intense scrutiny. His hand had picked up the pen he had dropped and now was beating a rapid “tat-tat-tat” against the desk surface. She spoke once again. “Would you mind not doing that?? Please?”

He startled, glanced down at his hand, and immediately stopped. He flashed her a “fake” grin. “Sorry. Didn’t know I was doing that.” Then he leaned forward. “Did you volunteer for this case or was it assigned?”

She returned his intense stare, matching it in intensity. “If I hadn’t been assigned your defense, I would have volunteered.”

He snorted. “A win-win situation for you, then.” He took his gaze away from her face, so unnervingly alike to Diane’s face. “I know the Admiral’d asked for a Marine, since none of the Navy lawyers wanted it, but. . .”

She shook her head. “I don’t know the details—but I would have jumped at the chance to represent JAG’s most persistent investigator.” She paused, seemingly lost in thought. Then she looked at him. “A man who’s gained the reputation you have wouldn’t have gone out of his way to get into the kind of mess you’re currently in. Marines like tough ‘nuts’ to crack!” She gave him a rare smile and the smile somehow “melted” something in him, something he hadn’t known he was holding in. She tilted her head at him. “You keep staring at me!! Is there something wrong with my uniform or what?”

“Sorry, Major.” He straightened himself up and leaned forward. “Have you seen pictures of the—of Diane?”

She shook her head. “No—is there something significant about that?”

He snorted again. “You need to see her service photo to start, and then I think you’ll understand.” He shuffled the stacks on his desk into one big stack, making sure he put his “working” stack on top of the “new” case files. “Well, let’s get to work, shall we?”

End Chapter One.

Skeleton Crew, Part 2 (Chapter 2) -- ., 19:29:55 05/24/07 Thu [1]


Skeleton Crew Part 2
(“A Consequence of Choices”)

Chapter 2


Harm’s Apartment
Saturday, 8 June 1996/late afternoon

The kitchen was cleaned up and the lights were dimmed. He had done something he very seldom did—and that was to cook a full-course meal for himself. It was therapeutic for him in a way he could not explain—and today, he needed some of that self-prescribed “therapy.” Now he was sitting on the couch, guitar in hand, strumming a few chords, some of which were wildly discordant, and nursing a bourbon when he wasn’t strumming. All of which he had discovered through the years up to this point, helped clear away the emotional “fog” that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. And tonight, all such forms of “therapy” were badly needed.

Meeting Major Sarah ‘Mac’MacKenzie earlier this week had shaken him to his very core. The irony of the situation—she defending him who was accused of killing her look-alike—did not escape him and, indeed, helped to increase the surreal feeling of being caught in a “lobster’s trap” not of his choosing. He snorted at the analogy. It was certainly apt. Krennick, especially, was angry enough because of his continued rebuffs of her sexual advances, to literally want him for lunch!! He wondered how strong Major MacKenzie was—would she be able to withstand an angry and powerful Allison Krennick?

For the first time since he’d met her he let his thoughts drift towards the Major in question. She certainly didn’t look that tough. Being on restricted duty had its drawbacks, he thought ruefully, not the least of which was that he couldn’t access any service record for perusal. It would have been nice to see her service record, just for his own reassurance. But then, no accused had that right, and, in this case, he was the accused. So, all he had to go on were his instincts! So, what were his instincts telling him about his new lawyer?

She was a “looker,” that’s for sure. She filled out that Marine uniform like few Marines ever did! Of course, Diane had looked good in her uniform, too—although he was more used to seeing her in civvies. He wondered just briefly what the good major looked like in civilian gear—and then discarded that thought as being “irrelevant.” There was no doubt in his own mind, Major MacKenzie was a beautiful woman. There could be no way around that, since she was Diane’s “twin” and he considered Diane beautiful. The logic was inescapable. He snorted and tried to organize his thinking around the case. His male hormones had no place in his thoughts tonight!

She’d told him she’d volunteered to defend him—or would have, if she hadn’t been assigned. That was a good thing, he decided. Human nature being what it was, although anyone would/could/should have provided an enthusiastic defense, it was much easier, he knew, if the attorney involved believed in his or her client’s innocence. He tried hard not to think about his reputation—that was a side effect of his own driven personality and not something he had gone out of his way to seek. Still, if his reputation had snagged the best military attorney available, then so be it – he certainly wasn’t complaining. His mom and Frank had immediately offered to retain D.C.’s most high powered criminal defense lawyer, but he’d demurred. For the moment, he was satisfied with his detailed defense counsel. If the charges were referred and he actually had to go to trial, he might take them up on it.

He wasn’t sure what his reputation really entailed—except he was known as a “pit dog,” “tenacious,” “hot-shot” investigator. He would have liked to have been known as someone who applied logic and common sense to a problem, whereas most attorneys and investigators would take the “facts” in any given case as they were, at face value, and go on from there. But he had learned early—and often, as it turned out—there was often more to a case than first met the eye—and he refused, absolutely positively refused—to leave it there until every “leaf” had been examined and no stone had been left unturned. Shit, it was hard to keep his emotions out of this one—for more than the obvious reason that he was the accused! Then, there was this little matter that his defense counsel looked just like the woman he was accused of killing. How was he supposed to get around THAT one??

He was mulling that issue over, strumming on his guitar, when the doorbell rang. He glanced at his watch and remembered Major MacKenzie had agreed to come over so they could go over the evidence once more and complete preparations for the Article 32 starting Monday morning. He put his guitar down, picked up his drink, and walked to the door. Sure enough, when he opened it, there was the Major, in civilian clothes.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Yup, in civvies, Major ‘Mac’ looked even more like Diane – if that was possible – in a dark red sleeveless shirt, lightweight capri jeans and simple sandals. Small gold hoops in her ears. Diane had loved earrings, he remembered, taking immense pleasure in wearing “regular” ones on liberty, as opposed to the small gold balls female officers were authorized to wear in uniform. She’d told him once that off duty, she chose her earrings first and then, the clothes she’d wear with them.

Mac too, took stock. As she’d remembered, he was tall – well over six feet. Very good looking, as good or better than he had looked in uniform. Really beautiful eyes. Eyes with a haunted, desperate look now as they stared at her. She would only admit to herself how disconcerting – how almost frightening – it had been to look at LT Diane Schonke’s photograph – and see herself.

****************

Sitting on the floor, the files spread out around them in piles, they’d dissected every line of the thin NCIS report government counsel had turned over in discovery. Mac had “papered” CDR Krennick with discovery demands, a speedy trial demand, witness requests – all the usual preliminaries.

“Well, there’s certainly not much evidence against anyone – and certainly none against you in here. You’re sure this Agent Turkay told you your prints were on the gun? There’s nothing about it in this package.” Mac was used to criminal investigation reports in murder cases overflowing with forensic evidence. This one was sadly lacking. She’d personally sighted Harm’s service revolver and personal weapon, both exactly where he’d said he kept them, and at her request, he’d called his grandmother – her rifle was where she kept it in the farmhouse. She’d questioned him repeatedly, but he’d insisted he hadn’t touched any other weapon since graduating from the Academy 11 years ago.

The ‘good ole boy and girl network’ had swung into gear as word got out that she was defending the well-known aviator-turned-litigator. A Duke classmate, now a junior partner in Atlanta’s most prestigious law firm, had called to offer his firm’s services, pro bono; Naval officers – some Harm’s Academy classmates, some he’d met as an aviator, over a dozen judge advocates … had left messages for her day and night, offering to testify as character witnesses. Most interesting was the cell phone voicemail. She could hear traffic and coins dropping into a pay phone in the background as a muffled voice spoke quickly – “you didn’t hear it from me -- ask the agent about the gun and the Brant case.” Her paralegal back at Quantico was working his considerable network, back-tracking the NCIS investigation.

A short time later.

“Brrriiiiing.” The doorbell startled them both, Mac nearly knocking over a bottle of water and Harm scrambling to his feet, muttering “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“Nick, come in – want some water?” Harm tried to smile pleasantly at the mailman he’d gotten to know when he’d moved into the building just before he started at Georgetown Law. He often got home just as the mail was delivered.

“Hey, man, thanks. Your box is full, so I brought up your ‘care package’ from California and today’s mail.” Nick was a Vietnam veteran who’d finished a career in the Air Force Reserves after ‘Nam, retiring the year Harm graduated from the Academy.

“Did you have a good vacation?” Nick had told Harm he’d be away on his annual fishing trip with his old squadron buddies for two weeks - one of them had a cabin in Wyoming.

“Yeah, it was a great time ….hard to come back to D.C. though. I’m thinking about retiring to Wyoming or Montana – at least in the summers. The humidity and mosquitoes are starting to get old before each day starts.” Reaching for the bottle of water, Nick continued, “You’ve got another letter from ‘LT De-Es.’ Is her ship still out?”

“WHAT? Oh Go-d ….” Mac moved to grab at Harm’s arm as he reached for the blue envelope Nick held out.

“What is it man? She writes you all the time.” Nick clearly knew nothing of the events of the past two weeks.

Mac pushed both men onto the kitchen bar stools. “Nick, I’m Sarah MacKenzie, Harm’s lawyer. Call me ‘Mac’. Did you know Diane?”

“Huh? …No ...just her writing on her letters. She always puts “LT D.S.” instead of her full name for the return address so I call her ‘De-Es.’ The commander’s always happy when they come, he said they were great buds from the Academy.” Nick grinned at his friend, swiping the water bottle across his neck.

Mac sighed heavily…glancing at Harm, who’d turned to stare at the wall, his face stunned in disbelief. “Nick, I need you to initial and put the time and date on the envelope, then open it and do the same on whatever’s inside. I’m sorry, but you may have just become a witness in a murder case.”

End Chapter Two.



Skeleton Crew, Part 2 (Chapter 3) -- ., 19:31:17 05/24/07 Thu [1]

Skeleton Crew Part 2
(“A Consequence of Choices”)

Chapter 3


Main Courtroom
JAG HQ
Monday, 10 June 1996

The courtroom was so totally silent, even the hum of the air conditioning seemed muted. It was also full to capacity. In addition to RADM Chegwidden, the Vice Chief’s SJA, the Commandant’s SJA, the Chief Judge and every JAG HQ staffer who could break away from his or her duties, a remarkable number of judge advocates – based up and down the east coast – a few from farther away -- had wrangled sudden TAD to the nation’s capital or had taken leave and traveled at their own expense. Some were clearly present to show their total support for Harmon Rabb. Some wanted to see the government and defense counsel square off - both had formidable reputations. The row reserved for the media was full, the courtroom sketch artists’ pencils moving rapidly over their pads.

Commander Allison Krennick had been determined to limit her witnesses and evidence to the bare minimum necessary to ensure the case would go to general court-martial. With the typical defense strategy at any Article 32, UCMJ investigation being mainly a fishing expedition to get as much as possible of the prosecution’s case on the table, and knowing she didn’t have the strongest case, CDR Krennick had directed NCIS to keep at it while acquiescing to the Convening Authority’s desire for a quick 32 and the defense’s not particularly surprising “speedy trial” demand.

“Special Agent Turkay, has the murder weapon been located?” Major Sarah ‘Mac’ Mackenzie’s voice was calm, almost too calm. Her Quantico colleagues nudged each other – they were well aware of her style.

“Objection!” Krennick was on her feet. She’d been soooo careful with her direct. “Outside the scope of the direct examination.”

“Government counsel asked the witness about the cause of death, and he answered, ‘a gunshot wound to the chest’,” Mac had anticipated the objection and was ready. “I’m entitled to inquire about the weapon used, Your Honor.”

“Overuled.” Assigned by the Chief Judge as Investigating Officer – IO - CAPT Sebring had been given strict orders by RADM Morris to keep control of the proceeding, not let either counsel grandstand, and for g_d’s sake, to make sure Rabb got a fair hearing. If the government didn’t have sufficient evidence at the 32, the last thing the Navy needed was a three-ring-circus of a trial.

“Special Agent?” Mac deliberately moved one step closer to the witness. Her trademark single 4x6 index card in hand – all she ever allowed herself per witness for direct or cross; as well as one card for opening and another for closing – those typically left sitting on the edge of the counsel table – pointed at the NCIS agent.

Turkay muttered something, causing the court reporter to indicate that she couldn’t hear him. “Speak up clearly,” the IO ordered, leaning forward slightly himself.

“No.” Turkay repeated reluctantly, glaring at CDR Krennick. They hadn’t rehearsed this.

Mac feigned surprise. “Special Agent Turkay, Government Exhibit A, your Report of Investigation, indicates that a 9 mm pistol was recovered from the water next to the pier where the Seahawk is docked. Was that pistol the weapon used to shoot Lieutenant Diane Schonke?”

“No.” the agent was beginning to squirm and there was a discernable murmur through the courtroom.

“Isn’t it a fact, Special Agent, that the pistol was covered with barnacles and silt when it was brought up?”

“Uh-h-h, yeah.”

“Is that fact in your report?” Mac was hitting her stride. Coming out of law school, she’d been on the winning team in Moot Court competition all three years, and was eagerly looking forward to honing her litigation skills during a Marine Corps Law Center tour, the typical first assignment for a Marine judge advocate. To her consternation, she’d received sealed orders hand delivered by the OIC of the I&I unit to which she was assigned for admin purposes, to report to USMC HQ the day after she took the Bar exam. Worse, upon arrival she’d been told she was going overseas to utilize her language skills and combat training in black ops. At least she’d been able to negotiate her follow-on: the best trial advocacy training course available, and assignment to one of the Corps’ major law centers as either trial or defense counsel. That year – eventually stretching to nearly 20 months from start to finish – was now buried deep in a closed compartment in her mind, the door slammed firmly shut, hopefully never to spring open. The nightmares came less often now, and sometimes she even managed four hours sleep before she woke. The unexpected reward – besides the medal with its classified commendation presented in private, that she wasn’t allowed to wear, had been her below zone selection for 0-4.

“No.”

“Did you deliberately leave it out because you’d told LCDR Rabb it was the murder weapon and his fingerprints were on it?” Mac didn’t care whether he answered yes or no – the implication was there. Best of all, this was part of the government’s case.

As she’d expected, Turkay looked appealingly at government counsel, who just stared at him, then muttered “no.” He didn’t sound very convincing.

Again, Mac moved in for the kill. “Were you told to leave it out?”

“No.” Krennick had instructed Turkay, and rehearsed him, to give up as little as possible and not volunteer anything.

“Why isn’t it in your report?” Mac’s voice could have cut ice.

“I forgot.” Turkay looked wildly at Krennick as the courtroom tittered.

“You forgot?” Mac repeated skeptically. “Has NCIS’ lab estimated how long the gun had been in the water?”

“Uh-h-h…3 years.” Turkay was sullen; he knew his case was disintegrating. How had MacKenzie found out?

“And whose weapon was it?” Mac was deceptively calm and CDR Krennick tried again.

“Objection…she’s far outside the scope.”

CAPT Sebring hadn’t spent 3 years on the bench after years as a litigator for nothing. This case was starting to smell like the fish he’d privately hoped it was. “Sit.” He tersely motioned Krennick down.

“A Sailor’s.” Agent Turkay was clearly hostile, not volunteering anything.

“A Sailor named….?” Mac was starting to enjoy herself immensely; she just loved it when she could make her case on cross-examination.

“Brant. Petty Officer Brant.” Turkay was as surly as he thought he could get away with.

Mac pounced. “As in Petty officer 3rd Class Joseph Brant, the rover on the pier who surprised two sailors snorting coke behind a piling on March 14th, 1993 and whose weapon, in the ensuing struggle, went overboard, not recovered?”

Turkay was silent. “Answer the question,” Mac demanded.

“How d’ya know?? Who leaked it?? She --“ pointing to CDR Krennick – “told me this wasn’t part of the case at the 32 – that it wouldn’t come out!” At this point, Turkay was practically screaming.

The courtroom was in pandemonium as the implications of what Turkay had said sunk in.

“Order! Be silent!!” CAPT Sebring ferociously banged the gavel – his farewell gift from his former colleagues at NLSO Norfolk as he’d left for Military Judge’s School three years before. As the din subsided, he threatened, “be quiet or I’ll clear the courtroom.” The presence of two Flags and a General officer in the room didn’t bother him – this wasn’t his first high-profile case and it wouldn’t be his last.

“Approach!” Krennick and the assembled multitude who knew him had never seen Judge Sebring so furious; Mac had never been before him but figured she wasn’t the object of his wrath. She was just defending her client, fulfilling her assigned duty – and having the time of her life.

“Not you – you’re the accused today – sit down!” she hissed at Harm as he started to come around the table to go with her to the bench for the sidebar.

Dropping back into his seat, Harm rubbed his neck. If he wasn’t the accused, he’d be loving this exhibition of lawyering – even better – the ‘outlawyering’ of Allison Krennick by this Marine judge advocate, even if she was Diane’s ghost!

Before the bench, Mac and Krennick stood at attention, as the spectators strained to hear the Investigating Officer.

“Are you a law school graduate?” Sebring was truly outraged.

“Yes sir.” Allison tried to speak confidently.

“Admitted to the bar in what State?” Now a hiss of a whisper.

“New York, Your Honor.”

“A graduate of Naval Justice School?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Does the word “discovery” mean something to you besides a TV channel? …The Jencks Act? The rules pertaining to discovery of exculpatory evidence? The Rules of Professional Conduct?…Never mind.” Sebring stared hard at the blond haired commander. “After this 32 is over, I will decide whether to request an investigation to determine whether you should be charged, forward a report to the JAG Ethics Counsel, report the matter to the New York Bar, or some combination of all of that. Do you understand?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Allison Krennick made a split second decision to try to brazen it out.

“I’d think before speaking, Commander. We will recess for 1 hour. You will ensure you have turned over every NCIS report, every witness statement, every ballistics report, every fingerprint report, every everything the defense is entitled to, to Major MacKenzie. Do you understand?”

Krennick’s voice was sulky. “She seems to have it already.”

“Be careful; you are courting contempt, Commander.” Motioning them back to their seats, the IO took a moment to calm himself by making a few unnecessary notes.

“Further cross-examination at this time, Major?” Judge Sebring couldn’t see why she’d bother, he was already mentally writing his report and recommendation to the Convening Authority.

“Just a few more questions at this time, Your Honor, but I reserve the right to further cross-examine after I review the government’s additional documents.” Mac smiled sweetly; she could afford to now.

“Special Agent Turkay, was the weapon recovered from the bay test-fired?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Again, Mac feigned surprise.

“It wouldn’t fire – everything was too corroded.” The NCIS agent knew his case was totally kaput – he just wanted to be off the stand and out of the courtroom.

The assembled multitude tittered as Mac asked, “Were the accused’s fingerprints on the gun?”

“No.”

“Isn’t it true that you told him his prints were on the gun?” Mac was playing to the media and spectators now.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing further at this time.” Mac carefully affected a cool tone as she turned to CAPT Sebring.

The IO glared at the witness. “Special Agent Turkay, you are ordered not to leave the building. You will return to this courtroom in one hour, at 1300 – one o’clock. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Turkay muttered, ready to bolt.

“What did you say??” Judge Sebring had about had it with this insolent “turkey” of an NCIS Agent.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well; this investigation is in recess for one hour. I will see counsel in chambers in 50 minutes.” The gavel banged sharply in the now silent room.

*****************

Tuesday, 11 June 1996/1300 (1 pm)

The courtroom was standing room only.

“All rise.” The bailiff, a young legalman with aspirations of an eventual commission in the JAG Corps, was grinning broadly. The rumor that the IO would announce his recommendation from the bench had spread rapidly through the building.

Owen Sebring had just gotten off the phone with the Convening Authority’s Staff Judge Advocate. He’d had a few choice words for the lieutenant commander about “rushing to judgment” and “half-assed investigations.” CDR Krennick, he’d handle separately.

“LCDR Rabb.” Harm and the Major scrambled to stand at attention. “I have advised the Convening Authority of my findings and recommendation. There is not one scintilla of evidence that you shot and killed LT Diane Schonke. To the contrary, LT Schonke may well have spoken to us from her grave, pointing a finger at her killer in the letter you received Saturday, that was received in evidence this morning. I have recommended that the charges be dismissed.”

“I have also recommended that the Convening Authority request that the Army’s CID or the Air Force’s OSI reopen the investigation and complete it properly.”

************

As well-wishers crowded around Harm, Mac slipped by him, murmuring, “best of luck, Commander.”

“Major – Mac – wait….” She was gone. He couldn’t blame her. It’d be a long time before he’d forget the two identical faces staring at him – the one in the photo – the other holding it.

“Harm!” Jack Keeter pushed through the crowd of judge advocates and reporters clamoring at Harm. “I was OUTUS - saw a blurb in the International Herald Tribune – got leave and caught a hop. I’m sorry man…so sorry…” As men do, the two hugged awkwardly.

“Does Sturg know?”

“I called Chaplain Turner – he’s on patrol. His last. He finally got an alternate’s slot for the funded Law Education Program – he starts law school in September.” Harm was glad for his friend, who’d been applying for one of the coveted slots for several years.

“We’re supposed to die in combat … or when we’re old….not be murdered,” Keeter choked. “Now we’re the three mouseketeers.” From his wallet, Keeter held out his favorite picture of the four of them taken at Disneyland while visiting Harm’s folks. The four of them – all wearing mouse ears – were laughing and clowning for the camera, hugging Mickey and Minnie.

Epilogue to follow.



Skeleton Crew, Part 2 (Epilogue) -- ., 19:32:59 05/24/07 Thu [1]


Skeleton Crew part 2
(“A Consequence of Choices”)

EPILOGUE

WARNING: There is a single phrase that may cause upset in the 4th paragraph from the end.


Friday, 3 January 1997
White House Rose Garden

“Rabb!” RADM Chegwidden’s bellow was reminiscent of a Seal instructor…or a Marine D.I. ….or an angry SECNAV. “C’mom, time to leave your admiring fandom and get going. We have a new case …. Roberts! With us!”

“Yes, Sir.” Two voices responded crisply and the tall LCDR and shorter LTJG turned to accompany their CO back to the car.

“I wonder what kind of new case,” Bud’s voice was eager. The assignment as law clerk to the legendary LCDR Harmon Rabb while going to law school four nights a week was a dream come true. “Do you think he’s sending us TAD somewhere? The new semester doesn’t start for nearly a month.”

“Dunno, but I’ll be glad to get out of the dress blues and get back to work,” Harm shrugged, “and if it’s TAD I hope it’s to somewhere warm.”

“Someone’s waiting at the car,” Bud observed, as the government vehicle and duty driver came into view.

“H-m-m-m …” .Harm wasn’t really listening, but his eyes naturally focused on the vehicle as they approached it …..and on the Marine in dress uniform standing next to it. Once again, he was unprepared. He stumbled and nearly fell against Bud, sending both men staggering.

Frantically gathering his wits, he barely heard his commanding officer. “Major, thank you for meeting us here. You remember LCDR Rabb I’m sure – the two of you will work as partners. And this is Ensign Bud Roberts, a JAG Corps wanna-be who’ll be your law clerk for the foreseeable future. He’s in GW’s night program.”

Mac stood still. It had been six months since she’d left JAG Headquarters and the enigma that was Harmon Rabb and the memory of the lieutenant he hadn’t killed – the friend she’d proven he hadn’t killed. Now what?

Flashback.

Office of the Commandant
USMC HQ
Earlier that morning


“Major, at ease. The Commandant wanted to speak to you himself but the SECNAV called.” The Commandant’s SJA indicated a seat and took the chair next to it, smiling affably. He’d proposed other candidates for this duty, not wanting to give up the Corps’ rising star judge advocate to the Navy, but the Commandant hadn’t even discussed it, simply indicated that Major Mackenzie was going. Whatever. She’d do the Corps proud.

“The Commandant and the Judge Advocate General have agreed to an exchange program, so to speak. Navy judge advocates’ll be assigned to our law centers at Lejeune, Pendleton and Okinawa, and one to JAM, here at HQ. Marines’ll go to NLSOs Norfolk, San Diego and Bremerton, and one to JAG HQ. That’s you.”

End Flashback.

Those incredible, unusual blue-green eyes met her dark ones. There was a wariness, but there was something else, something she couldn’t identify and didn’t know if she wanted to try.

RADM Chegwidden’s impatient voice intruded. “Well? Commander, Major, meet your new partner. But don’t get too close. You two have to work together.”

“Major, optimally, I’d of liked for you to have a week or two to settle in before sending you TAD. But, SECNAV called me at 0600,” the three officers looked up alertly at the flag officer’s “odd” tone of voice, “even before I had your name from the Commandant’s office, wanting me to send you TAD with Rabb and Roberts here to Arizona.”

“An investigation or a case Sir?” Bud’s excited young voice interrupted.

“Clearly an investigation, Lieutenant – SECNAV said that SECDEF was sending someone from the State Department to brief us ….drat …. where the devil is he, if this is such an ‘op immediate.’” If there was one thing A.J. Chegwidden hated, it was to be behind the 8-ball, not knowing what was going on.

Conscious that the major’s ramrod “attention” had suddenly stiffened even more rigidly, if that was possible, Harm queried “State, sir?” Grimacing slightly, he racalled his unfortunate trip to Cuba with the State Department’s Blair and CDR Krennick.

“Admiral ….sorry to be late …..” Sounding anything but, the group turned as a non-descript man of medium height approached, his wingtips peeking out from beneath his long trenchcoat.

“Clayton Webb, Deputy Under Secretary of State,” he held out his hand to the admiral, momentarily ignoring the three junior officers.

Indicating each in turn, AJ hastened to introduce the waiting officers, his voice trailing off as he focused on Major MacKenzie, seeing her face darkened with fury as she stared at the government official.

“No.” Her voice was cold and flat as she uttered the monosyllable.

“The Commandant assured me – he gave me his word – no more loaning me to ‘other government agencies.’ Admiral, you should be aware that Mister Webb’s operations do not run smoothly or well.” Harm and Bud glanced uneasily at each other, sensing something dark and unsaid in the sneering tone that dripped disdain.

“Sarah, you’re” Webb’s protest was rudely cut off.

“Don’t call me that. My friends call me ‘Mac’ and the rest call me ‘Major Mackenzie.’ You, Webb,” she spat the name viciously, “you can call me neither.”

“Major,” AJ attempted to re-gain control, “I don’t know what this is about yet, but the SECNAV told me the Commandant was providing a uniquely qualified officer – apparently you.”

“And did he tell you that the last time I was ‘loaned’ to the ‘State Department,’” the Marine’s tone was scathing as she glared at Webb, “I was shot, raped and tortured, thanks to this excuse-for-an-agent’s poor planning and lack of back-up?” Ignoring Bud’s strangled gasp, she continued,

“I’m a Marine and I understand and obey orders, but my obligated service’s up. I’ve paid back double for law school with what I’ve done. I swear, I’ll resign my commission before I’ll be used again by this diplomat who isn’t a ‘diplomat’ and always has his own agenda.”

Mac was breathing hard, trying to control herself in front of the admiral and the two junior Naval officers. “I’m going back to Marine Headquarters to see the Commandant.”

Executing an ‘about face’ to walk away, Mac stopped abruptly at Webb’s harsh whisper. “Sar…Major, I’m sorry …your uncle’s stolen the Declaration of Independence.”

The End.

Authors’ Note:
The impetus for this particular ending – (1) A long-held belief that Mac and Webb’s paths had crossed before “We the People,” and not happily (2) The Don never provided a clear “Mac timeline.” One of the two most likely has 3 missing years – this fills in most of them (3) A feeling that there was a “dark” untold backstory – Mac’s childhood/young adulthood was too long ago to be the entire reason she acted as she did.