Black Monday, "Meet the Taylors," pt. 2
Aug. 8th, 2005 05:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardEverything goes to hell in a handbasket. A handbasket with Mach 7.
Evelyn gave Stella a narrow, tight-lipped smile. "Now," she said, "that's hardly an appropriate subject for conversation, is it? Especially from a - woman - such as yourself. I hardly doubt you've had the kind of upraising Maclarin had, but in polite company such topics of conversation are discouraged. Of course," she gave Stella a disdaining once over, "you wouldn't know that."
Stella bit her lip to keep from saying something very rude Mac probably wouldn't have appreciated at all. For a moment, the tension in the room was so thick she could have cut it with a butterknife, and could have given the fury clouding Stella's brain a run for its money.
Everett Taylor coughed and broke the spell. "That's very interesting, Miss Bonasera, but I suppose something like that doesn't happen very often. You must have a great deal of time between each case. After all, it's not like the forensics unit actually does anything but siphon away money."
That got Mac's attention. He raised his head, looking personally insulted. Stella would have been more grateful for this if she'd been able to think beyond her incoherent rage. Fucking civilian bastards, don't know a goddamned thing, fucking rich bastard -
"Actually," Mac said, his accent dropping away into his familiar no one from nowhere tone, "the forensics unit in a large city, no matter if it's Chicago, New York, or Los Angeles, often works harder than all of the other divisions put together. On any given day - especially holidays like Christmas or Easter - we're swamped with cases. My team often handles two or even three at once, and we almost always close them."
Stella found her tongue. "Of course, it takes a lot of painstaking work," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I pull all-nighters a couple times a month - we all do. It's not even just lab work; we spend a lot of time in the field, processing crime scenes, talking to witnesses and suspects, chasing down perps - it's hard, but it's satisfying. There are a lotta cases - cold and new - that would still be open if it weren't for the Crime Lab and that many more criminals free on the street."
Evelyn looked surprised Mac knew how to speak. Hamilton, on the other hand, spoke for the second time that evening. "During my time in court," he said, "I've often found that the average person doesn't understand scientific evidence. What this means is that the average juror doesn't understand it. Most criminalists don't bother explaining their so-called evidence, and do you know what that means? It means innocent people go to prison because of scientific babble about epithelials and ligature marks and ear prints, because the average person has been taught to trust in science. And they do so, without bothering to think about what they're being told. People are ignorant, and they are falsely led on by the sugared psycho babble of so-called criminalists and their false evidence. Frankly, if I had my way about it all the forensics labs in America would be scrapped. They don't do anyone a bit of good except the criminals they let go free."
Up until that moment Stella hadn't actually been aware it was possible to shake with rage. She couldn't talk, couldn't move, couldn't think beyond you fucking elitist bastard, what the hell do you know?
Next to her, Mac's face clenched in anger and insult, and she saw him grip the fork so hard she expected it to bend in his hand. But he kpet looking down and despite his visible outrage, didn't seem about to speak.
Evelyn said, "Of course you're right, Hamilton. Why, forensics divisions are horrible wastes of moeny I'm sure could be diverted to much better use. Classrooms, perhaps. Or more protection for our schools, it's really quite awful how these horrible gangs are corrupting good Catholic boys and girls. Are there many problems with gangs in New York, Miss Bonasera?"
Punching out Mac's parents is not a good idea, Stella told herself sternly. "Four months ago members of a Yonkers and Bronx based gang kidnapped and tortured the homicide detective attached to the Crime Lab," she said. "Two other crime scene detectives besides me and Mac were involved in the shootout a day later. Three men went to jail - one of them's definitely getting the death penalty - those three detectives were injured, and two of them badly, and another gangbanger was killed. So I guess the answer to your question would be 'yes.'"
Evelyn shuddered delicately. "How absolutely horrid. It's not as though you and Maclarin were in any actual physical danger, though, was it? AFter all, you're in - you said you were in the Crime Scene Unit? That's - that's forensics, isn't it? They don't arrive until after any danger's already past, do they?"
Stella stared at her. Flatly, she said, "I don't know. Why don't you try asking my colleague Aiden Burn who got a gun held to her head and almost raped while processing a crime scene over twenty-four hours after the victim had been discovered. Or how 'bout Danny Messer, who was shot at, almost killed, and almost lost his job because a perp jumped out at him from a closet. Oh, sure, it's perfectly safe. Probably the safest division in the NYPD outside of the Bomb Squad, the Anti-Gang Unit, and ESU."
"Really, Miss Bonasera, I don't appreciate your tone," Evelyn sniffed, barely moving as a waiter reached over her shoulder to replace her salad plate with the pasta she'd ordered. "It's hardly appropriate. Not is it appropraite for you to be speaking of such things so glibly. You are a woman; your employment in a profession such as law enforcement does the female gender no credit. Everyone knows that women in a man's profession are all women of low repute or deviants. I hardly dare guess which one you are."
"Mother!" Mac snapped, shocked into speech. "Stella's -"
"Stella can speak for herself, thanks," Stella interrupted, her voice cold and dead. "I've been called a lot of things, Mrs. Taylor, but I've never been called a whore by a hoity-toity rich bitch from fucking Virginia who's never known anything but the silver spoon in her mouth and is still living in the eighteenth century."
Evelyn gaped at her. Hamilton said, "How dare you speak to my wi-"
Stella tossed down the napkin on her lap and stood up, knocing her chair over. "I don't have a fucking clue how the hell Mac came out of your gene pool, but I'm damn glad he did, for the sake of the people of New York City. Furthermore, if you're what parents are like, I'm damn glad I never had any." She pulled Mac out of his chair. "C'mon, partner, let's go. We can get room service."
"Miss Bonasera!" The reporter jerked up from his seat at the end of the table. "I -"
"That's Detective Bonasera to you," she shot at him. "And you can redirect any questions you got to the NYPD press office, becuase I ain't answering them and neither is Lieutenant Taylor. And you oughta count yourself lucky if they laugh in your face before hanging up on you, Chicago."
A waiter appeared at her side. "Ma'am, I must request you -"
"Don't bother," she snapped. "We're leaving."
In other news, my laptop arrived. I am happy.
Evelyn gave Stella a narrow, tight-lipped smile. "Now," she said, "that's hardly an appropriate subject for conversation, is it? Especially from a - woman - such as yourself. I hardly doubt you've had the kind of upraising Maclarin had, but in polite company such topics of conversation are discouraged. Of course," she gave Stella a disdaining once over, "you wouldn't know that."
Stella bit her lip to keep from saying something very rude Mac probably wouldn't have appreciated at all. For a moment, the tension in the room was so thick she could have cut it with a butterknife, and could have given the fury clouding Stella's brain a run for its money.
Everett Taylor coughed and broke the spell. "That's very interesting, Miss Bonasera, but I suppose something like that doesn't happen very often. You must have a great deal of time between each case. After all, it's not like the forensics unit actually does anything but siphon away money."
That got Mac's attention. He raised his head, looking personally insulted. Stella would have been more grateful for this if she'd been able to think beyond her incoherent rage. Fucking civilian bastards, don't know a goddamned thing, fucking rich bastard -
"Actually," Mac said, his accent dropping away into his familiar no one from nowhere tone, "the forensics unit in a large city, no matter if it's Chicago, New York, or Los Angeles, often works harder than all of the other divisions put together. On any given day - especially holidays like Christmas or Easter - we're swamped with cases. My team often handles two or even three at once, and we almost always close them."
Stella found her tongue. "Of course, it takes a lot of painstaking work," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I pull all-nighters a couple times a month - we all do. It's not even just lab work; we spend a lot of time in the field, processing crime scenes, talking to witnesses and suspects, chasing down perps - it's hard, but it's satisfying. There are a lotta cases - cold and new - that would still be open if it weren't for the Crime Lab and that many more criminals free on the street."
Evelyn looked surprised Mac knew how to speak. Hamilton, on the other hand, spoke for the second time that evening. "During my time in court," he said, "I've often found that the average person doesn't understand scientific evidence. What this means is that the average juror doesn't understand it. Most criminalists don't bother explaining their so-called evidence, and do you know what that means? It means innocent people go to prison because of scientific babble about epithelials and ligature marks and ear prints, because the average person has been taught to trust in science. And they do so, without bothering to think about what they're being told. People are ignorant, and they are falsely led on by the sugared psycho babble of so-called criminalists and their false evidence. Frankly, if I had my way about it all the forensics labs in America would be scrapped. They don't do anyone a bit of good except the criminals they let go free."
Up until that moment Stella hadn't actually been aware it was possible to shake with rage. She couldn't talk, couldn't move, couldn't think beyond you fucking elitist bastard, what the hell do you know?
Next to her, Mac's face clenched in anger and insult, and she saw him grip the fork so hard she expected it to bend in his hand. But he kpet looking down and despite his visible outrage, didn't seem about to speak.
Evelyn said, "Of course you're right, Hamilton. Why, forensics divisions are horrible wastes of moeny I'm sure could be diverted to much better use. Classrooms, perhaps. Or more protection for our schools, it's really quite awful how these horrible gangs are corrupting good Catholic boys and girls. Are there many problems with gangs in New York, Miss Bonasera?"
Punching out Mac's parents is not a good idea, Stella told herself sternly. "Four months ago members of a Yonkers and Bronx based gang kidnapped and tortured the homicide detective attached to the Crime Lab," she said. "Two other crime scene detectives besides me and Mac were involved in the shootout a day later. Three men went to jail - one of them's definitely getting the death penalty - those three detectives were injured, and two of them badly, and another gangbanger was killed. So I guess the answer to your question would be 'yes.'"
Evelyn shuddered delicately. "How absolutely horrid. It's not as though you and Maclarin were in any actual physical danger, though, was it? AFter all, you're in - you said you were in the Crime Scene Unit? That's - that's forensics, isn't it? They don't arrive until after any danger's already past, do they?"
Stella stared at her. Flatly, she said, "I don't know. Why don't you try asking my colleague Aiden Burn who got a gun held to her head and almost raped while processing a crime scene over twenty-four hours after the victim had been discovered. Or how 'bout Danny Messer, who was shot at, almost killed, and almost lost his job because a perp jumped out at him from a closet. Oh, sure, it's perfectly safe. Probably the safest division in the NYPD outside of the Bomb Squad, the Anti-Gang Unit, and ESU."
"Really, Miss Bonasera, I don't appreciate your tone," Evelyn sniffed, barely moving as a waiter reached over her shoulder to replace her salad plate with the pasta she'd ordered. "It's hardly appropriate. Not is it appropraite for you to be speaking of such things so glibly. You are a woman; your employment in a profession such as law enforcement does the female gender no credit. Everyone knows that women in a man's profession are all women of low repute or deviants. I hardly dare guess which one you are."
"Mother!" Mac snapped, shocked into speech. "Stella's -"
"Stella can speak for herself, thanks," Stella interrupted, her voice cold and dead. "I've been called a lot of things, Mrs. Taylor, but I've never been called a whore by a hoity-toity rich bitch from fucking Virginia who's never known anything but the silver spoon in her mouth and is still living in the eighteenth century."
Evelyn gaped at her. Hamilton said, "How dare you speak to my wi-"
Stella tossed down the napkin on her lap and stood up, knocing her chair over. "I don't have a fucking clue how the hell Mac came out of your gene pool, but I'm damn glad he did, for the sake of the people of New York City. Furthermore, if you're what parents are like, I'm damn glad I never had any." She pulled Mac out of his chair. "C'mon, partner, let's go. We can get room service."
"Miss Bonasera!" The reporter jerked up from his seat at the end of the table. "I -"
"That's Detective Bonasera to you," she shot at him. "And you can redirect any questions you got to the NYPD press office, becuase I ain't answering them and neither is Lieutenant Taylor. And you oughta count yourself lucky if they laugh in your face before hanging up on you, Chicago."
A waiter appeared at her side. "Ma'am, I must request you -"
"Don't bother," she snapped. "We're leaving."
In other news, my laptop arrived. I am happy.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-09 02:26 am (UTC)Like that she says "partner" to Mac.
not coherent, alas. :(
Yay laptop. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-09 09:12 am (UTC)I'm so glad Mac has Stella to rescue him.
Glad you had him standing up for Stella. He couldn't or wouldn't stand up to them for himself but the minute they attacked Stella that was a different matter. Mind you Stella was that mad she didn't let him finish, you can practicaly see the steam coming out of her ears and you get this overwhelming feeling that she so wants to hit something or someone.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-10 01:49 am (UTC)Oh, Stella so wants to hit someone.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-10 01:45 am (UTC)I'm really, really curious about what that news article is going to say. Nothing good, I'm sure. And now Stella wants to hit something or shoot something or both, but alas, not New York.
Poor Mac, he's probably half having a panic attack (not for any real reason, just out of the ohchristI'msodead factor).
Only half of one? *grin* He's probably almost into full-fledged "I hate my life, let me out of here right now I don't know you" panic attack.
Yay laptop.
Very yay. I'm on it right now, because my desktop's being a bitch and keeps switching around and shutting down the pages I have up on my Internet. I should probably run the antivirus software that came with my laptop on it.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-09 07:13 pm (UTC)Man, they're going to *deserve* the booze and pr0n after all of this.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-10 02:01 am (UTC)Yay! I mean...the Taylors are awful. Seriously. I have no idea what their problem is, but they don't like what Mac does, they don't like that he's there with a woman not his wife, and if he'd shown up with Claire they probably still would have insulted her. And there's also the fact they're still, apparently, living in the eighteenth century. "Women of ill repute," indeed. It's such a good thing he hasn't mentioned he was in the Marines yet, although I think they may already know that. But I'm really glad all that came through, because I htought I might have been overdoing it.
Good thing Stella's there to get his back. And, oh, *Stella*. As awesome as ever.
Stella is not happy with The Parents and The Parents aren't happy with Stella, so all is even, if not fair. And she seriously can't understand why they'd do something like this to their only son.
Man, they're going to *deserve* the booze and pr0n after all of this.
Damn right they do.