Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss. I got nada but my imagination. Characters: Crew, omc, ofc. Warning: PG for graphic violence, profanity and other grownup things. Setting: In the town of Silverton, on Santo, immediately prior to “The Train Job”. Words: 2,278

A/N: As a kid, my two favorite TV genres were westerns and detective shows. I finally decided to tackle both in a mix I’ve thought of as “Firefly CSI”. Click my name to access the previous chapters. If you’re following this tale, I’d really appreciate hearing what you think, and if you’re enjoying it, please pimp it to your friends. Thanks!

X - posted from my LiveJournal.

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Presumption of Guilt Chapter Twelve

There was already a crowd of local citizens jockeying for good seats when Mal and Zoe arrived at the Silverton District Courthouse. Not unexpectedly, both were asked to surrender their weapons. “That’s somethin’ I never feel comfortable doin’,” Mal murmured to his Second as they were passed into the large gallery to take seats just behind the table allocated for the Defense.

The designated hour for the hearing drew near and the courtroom was nearly full. Book made his way down the aisle and sat down at the left-hand table, laying out his notes. Across the aisle, Sheriff Garvey was dressed in a black suit and high collared white shirt, his badge freshly polished and gleaming in the morning light that flooded the hall through tall windows.

Behind him sat a glowering Ambrose Murchison along with other family members. He glanced down at his shirt cuff and the plain silver links which fastened it, wondering where he’d misplaced his gold and diamond one. It was probably on the floor of his flier, he decided, and he determined to look there when the court recessed.

When Nellie’s brother had still not appeared by the time for the arraignment, the family murmured among themselves. “Where is Dwight? He’s not even present for the trial of her killer! This is scandalous.”

Mal and Garvey nodded briefly at one another and then the bailiff directed the court to stand. “Hear ye, hear ye! All rise for the Honorable Marcus Albert Howery, Federal Territorial Justice.” As those in the courtroom rose to their feet, a lean, gray-haired man of distinguished appearance dressed in the blue and gray robe of a Federal Judge entered the chamber and took his place behind the bench.

“Be seated,” he directed, waiting briefly for the crowd to settle itself before rapping sharply with his gavel to call the session to order. “By the power invested in me by the Federated Union of Allied Planets, I declare this court to be in session. Bailiff, bring in the accused.”

All eyes swiveled to the doorway at the left of the bench, which opened to admit Deputy Kenny Thorn escorting a clean-shaven Jayne Cobb, neatly dressed in his Saturday night best, his hands shackled before him and a defiant glint in his eye. Jayne was guided into place at the table beside Book and then Thorn stepped back against the wall.

Book leaned close and whispered to the merc, “Just remember what I told you. Answer honestly and be as respectful as you can.” Even having known Jayne for just a few short weeks, the Shepherd figured this last part would be lost on his client.

“Will the accused please rise and state his full name for the court?” Justice Howery’s hawk-like eyes bored into Jayne’s steely blue ones as the big man rose to his full height.

“Jayne Russart Cobb.” The merc’s voice was low and steady.

“Mr. Cobb, you stand accused of the rape and murder of one Nellie Powers Murchison on the evening of May 17. How say you?”

Without hesitation, Jayne’s voice boomed out, “I ain't guilty.”

A wave of complaint rippled out from the crowd, to be silenced by Justice Howery’s gavel. Murchison glared at Jayne’s back, his dark eyes filled with malice.

“As the accused has entered a plea of ‘Not Guilty’ with the court, we shall proceed to trial. Be seated, Mr. Cobb.” Howery ordered and looked at Sheriff Garvey. “Is the Prosecution ready to present their evidence at this time?”

Garvey stood and faced the bench. “I am, Your Honor.”

“Very well. Continue, if you will, sir.”

Watching Garvey gather up several items from the table in front of him, Book was thankful that he’d had the opportunity to reassure the mercenary that the charges against him would ultimately be dropped. Still, he could tell from the tension in Jayne’s frame that the man was deeply anxious.

“At 4:00 AM on May 17, I was awakened by a call from Mr. Ambrose Murchison. According to the gentleman,” he turned to look at the banker, “his wife had gone out for the evening following their dinner and had not returned home. He stated that he’d had enough of her ‘whorin’ around’ and wanted me to find her and the man and ‘put an end to it’. After reassuring Mr. Murchison that we would begin a search, I found Deputy Thorn over there,” he nodded at Thorn, “and we began to make inquiries.”

Garvey slowly paced back and forth before the bench, occasionally turning to focus on an individual behind him. “We soon learned that the lady in question had been observed leaving Rosella’s Bar in the company of a spacer, and that the two of them had taken a room at the Golden Palace hotel.”

A tide of whispers rolled over the courtroom and Murchison squirmed in his seat, his face a florid red.

“Along with a couple of Mr. Murchison’s own employees, Deputy Thorn and I went to the hotel. We knocked on the door and then called out to the occupants. When no one came to answer, Deputy Thorn kicked the door in and we found Mrs. Murchison lying dead with a large knife in her chest and Mr. Cobb covered in her blood.”

This statement was greeted by a great deal of hissing and many angry remarks impugning Jayne’s parentage. Justice Howery pounded his gavel repeatedly. “I will have order in this court or I will clear the chamber!”

Garvey passed Jayne’s bloodstained Bowie knife, still in the protective plastic sleeve, up to Howery. “This, Your Honor, is the murder weapon, a blade which Mr. Cobb has admitted to owning. I would like it placed into evidence.”

“So be it.”

Jayne glanced sidelong at Book, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, and the Shepherd responded with the faintest shake of his head in the negative. Behind Jayne, Mal softly whispered, “Steady…” The last thing they needed right now was for the volatile merc to go off.

“At this time, Your Honor, I would like to bring Doctor Samuel J. Bailey, Designated Coroner for Silverton Township, to the stand.” Garvey faced the judge.

At Howery’s prompt, the bailiff called Bailey and administering the Federal Oath to the witness before stepping aside. The doctor held himself with quiet assurance as Garvey asked, “Will you state your full name and titles, for the record.”

“Samuel Jacob Bailey, medical doctor and Township Coroner.”

“Is it true that you performed the autopsy on Mrs. Murchison?”

“Yes, I did.”

Garvey passed a folder to the coroner, who quickly examined the contents. “And does this folder contain the results of that autopsy and your conclusions?”

“Yes, it does.”

Sheriff Garvey passed the folder to Justice Howery. “Would you be so kind, Doctor Bailey, as to describe the nature of your findings to this court?”

Bailey took a deep breath and met Ambrose Murchison’s eyes with his own. “Mrs. Murchison’s body showed signs of repeated battery and physical abuse, much of it old and long healed. This suggests the injuries were systematic and had been taking place for a substantial period of time.”

“And you were also the lady’s physician?”

“I was.”

“Had she sought care from you for these injuries?” Garvey asked.

“She had, and I had repeatedly urged her to leave her husband.”

Murchison’s ruddy face went white with fury, and he struggled to contain himself when Max Garvey stared straight at him.

Book could feel Jayne trembling with rage beside him and slowly moved his hand to grasp the younger man’s wrist.

“And sir, did the results of the autopsy present evidence that Mrs. Murchison had been raped?”

“They did not. There was no evidence to indicate that congress was anything other than consensual.”

The furious banker drew out his handkerchief and blotted the sweat from his face, at the same time masking the mortification he felt that he should be the subject of such public humiliation.

“Dr. Bailey, would you please describe for this court the specific nature of the mortal wound responsible for Nellie Murchison’s death.”

“The knife in question had been thrust with no hesitation and with considerable force into the medial aspect of the woman’s left breast, severing her aorta. She bled to death almost immediately. The slant of the entry wound was such that the killer was unequivocally left handed.”

Garvey picked up another clear plastic envelope, this one enclosing the section of wallpaper. He held it up before him, displaying it to the court with the brownish handprint facing outward, before passing it to Doc Bailey. “This print, left behind by the killer in his haste to flee, was taken from the room in which Mrs. Murchison died. I wish it placed into evidence, Your Honor.”

“So be it.” “Dr. Bailey, would you describe this print for the court?”

“It is a left-hand print, likely made in the victim’s blood, and is marred by a large scar crossing the palm.”

“One might assume that such a scar would be rather uncommon and distinctive,” the sheriff surmised. Bailey nodded. “Are you aware of anyone among the local residents who is possessed of such a scar?”

Bailey nodded. “I am, sir. I treated Mr. Dwight Powers for exactly such a wound to his left palm about two years ago. According to him, he acquired the injury in the course of making a financial agreement with Ambrose Murchison. The latter gentleman bears its twin.”

At this news, the courtroom erupted in an uproar and it took Justice Howery several minutes to regain control of the proceedings as Murchison squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, wishing at that moment to be anywhere else in the universe. Once the hall was reasonably quiet again, Sheriff Garvey handed the print to the judge and then said, “Thank you, Doctor. You may step down.”

Justice Howery scanned the court with his fierce eyes before asking, “Do you wish to set forth any further evidence, Sheriff?”

“Not at this time, Your Honor.”

Justice Howery looked steadily at Jayne and announced, “As the results of the autopsy fail to support the charge of rape, the Court declares that this charge be set aside. Does the attorney for the Defense wish to call any witnesses in regard to the remaining charge?”

Book rose, shuffling his notes into a neat pile on the dark table before him. “Yes, Your Honor. At this time, I wish to call the defendant, Jayne Russart Cobb.”

“Very well,” the judge remarked. “Will the bailiff please call Mr. Cobb to the witness stand?”

Jayne rose and made his way to the stand where he was sworn and seated. It had been bad enough while he was sitting with his back to all those folk, knowing they considered him a murderer and had twice sought to lynch him. Looking out into the restless crowd was far worse. To his left, behind the sheriff, sat Murchison, jaw set in bulldog fashion, his dark eyes glaring with hatred.

Shepherd Book smiled at the mercenary and then began to speak. “In your own words, will you please describe to the court the events of the evening of May 17?”

Jayne took a deep breath, gathering his confidence before proceeding. “My captain had just paid me and give me shore leave, and I figured I’d stop in at Rosella’s and have a few drinks.” Book nodded. “‘Twas a tic before eight when I seen this woman I’d met last time we was on Santo come into the bar.”

“And what was the woman’s name?” Book asked.

“All she ever told me was ‘Nellie’. We got on real good the first time and figured we’d enjoy one another’s company again, so I ordered us a bottle and we had a few drinks together.”

“Were you aware that the woman in question was married?”

“No sir. She weren’t wearing no wedding ring and if she hadda been, well, I don’t make a habit of goin’ with married women.” Jayne stared hard at Murchison as he said this.

“Please continue, Mr. Cobb,” Book prompted.

“The lady suggested we take a room somewhere and I knew the Golden Palace was a nice place, so we went there. I ordered us some more whiskey and we drank and enjoyed one another’s company for several hours until we both fell asleep.”

“Mrs. Murchison was alive at that point?” The Shepherd wanted to be very clear about this point.

“Oh yeah,” Jayne replied. “Very much so.”

Book asked, “What happened next?”

Jayne looked at Sheriff Garvey and the sheriff responded with the slightest of nods. “I was waked up by someone poundin’ on the door. First thing I saw was Nellie lying dead beside me, and my knife stuck clear into her chest.” Jayne’s face tightened in disgust as he struggled with the memory. “Her blood was everywhere, all over her and me, both.” He shook his head. “About then, the sheriff and several other men busted down the door and come in an’ arrested me.”

Book faced Jayne and met him eye to eye. “Did you kill Nellie Murchison?”

In a low, firm voice, Jayne replied, “No, I did not.”

“One final request, Mr. Cobb. Please be kind enough to hold up your left hand so that the court and Justice Howery can see your palm.” As Jayne did so, Book noted, “As the court can plainly see, Mr. Cobb does not have a scar across his left palm.”

“Let this be so noted,” pronounced Howery in his crisp, well-educated voice.

Shepherd Book smiled reassuringly at Jayne. The merc had done well and they were headed into the home stretch…

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To be continued… 12 of 13