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perpetual_motionTitle: Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: One Night in the Mock Trial Room [3/?]
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law & Order
Pairing: [Ed/Lupo; Jack/Mike Cutter; Mike/Connie]
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mike, Jack, and a semi-late night in the mock trial room.
Dis: Bullshit, lies, and obsfuscation.
Author's Notes: As per the usual, some credit for this goes to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amazonqueenkate, who was chatting with me when I laid down the basics. Mike Cutter, in high school, was probably an awkward kid, and the only person who really got him was his mock trial coach, Mr. McCoy. If you're not connecting the dots yet, you may want to get off the trolley. In short: High School AU, because it can be done.
Part One: Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Mike Cutter Meets his Roommates
Part Two: Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Mike's First Day of Classes
Ed and Lupo are doing…things that Mike doesn’t think require detailed investigation. He considers throwing his shoe at the wall, but the last time he’d tried the tactic, Ed had gleefully announced he was busy, and then Lupo had made some mildly obscene noises. Mike decides packing up his books, grabbing Ed’s spare bat and getting out of the room is a much better option.
“Back later!” He yells before he closes the outer door. He cuts across the lawns to the library and heads to the basement to the mock trial room. It’s empty, as he’d expected it to be, and Mike lays out his books and notebook and considers where he was. He needs an argument for plain sight exception, and everything he’s written so far just sounds lame.
Mike paces the room a few times to try and get his thoughts going, and the fifth trip to the far wall starts to make him sweat. He strips off his button-down and hangs it over the chair. It’s stuffy this late at night, and he pulls off his shoes and socks to cool off a bit further. Nothing’s coming to him, and he picks up Ed’s bat to give himself something to do. He swings it a few times and pauses to read over his books.
“Mr. Cutter?”
Mike nearly jumps out of his skin as he spins around to see Mr. McCoy in the doorway. “I…um…I…”
“It’s a bit late to be in the building, isn’t it?”
“Curfew’s not for two hours.”
“That wasn’t my question.” Jack walks into the room proper and gives Mike a once over. “Glad to see you’ve discovered a use for your undershirt, Mr. Cutter.”
Mike glances down at himself, slightly embarrassed. “I have my other shirt, but it’s stuffy in here.”
“Which would explain your lack of shoes as well.”
Mike flushes a bit. “Yeah.”
Jack smiles. “They turn off the air conditioning after seven.”
“Oh.”
“You may be more comfortable in your room.”
“My roommates are…distracting.”
“You could work in one of the library study rooms.”
Mike shakes his head. “Too many people walk by. It gets weird. I feel like a monkey with all the windows.”
Jack leans against one of the tables and crosses his arms. “Then you’re stuck here.”
“Looks like.” Mike swings the bat a little, feeling suddenly ridiculous with Jack watching. “My roommate, Ed, said it helps him think.”
“Does it help you think?”
“I dunno, but it’s…nice.” Mike thinks it’s the lamest thing he’s ever said. “I mean-“
“What are you working on?” Jack interrupts before Mike can derail.
“Plain sight exception argument.” Mike holds out his notebook to Jack. “I don’t think it’s very good.”
“Then don’t use it.” Jack takes the notebook but places it facedown next to him. “Wing it.”
Mike’s eyes go wide. “What?”
“Wing it, Mr. Cutter. It’s good practice. You need to think on your feet.”
“I don’t-“
“Go,” Jack commands and feels successful when Mike takes a few steps and starts talking.
“The issue isn’t…It’s about intent…” Mike shakes his head and starts again. “In the digital age, considerations need to be – no, that’s no good. It’s too easy to argue that the same evidence could be found by looking through records.”
Jack nods. “Good. Cut it out and try again.”
“Okay.” Mike gives the bat an experimental swing. It feels good, less awkward, even with Mr. McCoy watching. “The problem is that a police officer is alleged to have overstepped the bounds of the plain sight exception. The solution is to prove he didn’t.” Mike looks at Mr. McCoy, who gives him a nod. “The problem is that it wasn’t a list on a piece of paper, but a list in someone’s palm pilot.”
“Did the officers violate plain view exception?” Jack watches Mike turn over the question in his head and can’t help but admire the time he gives to really consider his options. Even with the mock trial team he’s got, he still spends a great deal of time reminding the students to stop and consider all of their options.
“Rules of plain view,” Mike says quietly, “the first is that the officer have a legal right to be present. The second says that ordinary senses can’t be enhanced by technology, and the third says any discovery must be by chance.”
“Are the rules followed?”
Mike paces back and forth in front of the white board, stopping occasionally to mull a point. He finally looks at Jack, and there’s almost a smile on his face. “Yes.”
Jack raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“You’re not,” Mike states, not stopping to think how it sounds to blandly say such a thing to a teacher. “You think I missed something.”
“Rule number two,” Jack says as a lead. When Mike just stares at him, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. “Advanced technology.”
Mike shakes his head. “Maybe not.” He leans his bat against the wall and walks over to his books and papers. He flips halfway through a stack of loose notes before pulling out the original case paperwork and skimming it. “It doesn’t say how old the phones are.”
“Your point?”
“The first palm pilot came out in 1996. The basic technology has been around for twelve years. That’s not advanced technology.” Mike grins a little. “Even if the other side argues for the possibility of the phone being newer, it doesn’t change the fact that the basic technology is, by its own industry standards, non-advanced.”
Jack nods slowly and tries not to smile. “Good. Now, what’s your argument for the detective e-mailing himself the doctor’s patient list? An e-mail enabled phone isn’t as old as a palm pilot.”
“But it’s not completely new either. It’s at least two years old. That’s the cycle for a person to trade in one phone for a newer model, right?” Mike doesn’t wait for Mr. McCoy to answer, plowing ahead as his thoughts line up. “The police were there to perform a lawful round of questioning in regards to a possible patient of that doctor. That doctor pulled up his patient list on his palm pilot, and then left the palm pilot face-up on his desk. The detective who grabbed the phone didn’t do anything more than push a few buttons and have it sent to his own phone.”
Jack raises his eyebrows, more impressed than he lets on as he says, “And that covers rule number three?”
“The doctor could have looked up his patients on his computer or with paper files which he could have kept out of view of the officers. He placed his palm pilot in a position which made it accessible to the officers and made it clear to them that he was checking his patient list. The detectives believed a person involved in the crime was a patient of that doctor, and so they had the right to use plain sight to retrieve the list of patients.” Mike stops for breath and looks at Mr. McCoy. “Yes?”
It takes a moment for Jack to respond. He’s gotten caught up in Mike’s flow, in the way he paced seven steps back and forth as he walked himself through the brambles and found the clear path to a solid, useful argument. Mike’s eyes are bright, and he’s obviously pleased with himself, and Jack suddenly feels claustrophobic and unseemly sitting in a room with this seventeen-year-old boy who can put together legal rhetoric in such a quick-fire manner. Jack is impressed and pleased and proud and, he realizes as he makes an attempt to stand up straight, turned on.
“Mr. McCoy?” Mike wonders why Mr. McCoy hasn’t said anything. He usually goes after an argument as soon as someone can hash it out for him. “Sir?”
“It’s an excellent argument, Mr. Cutter. It needs some fine-tuning, but overall, I think you’ve got it.” Jack looks away as Mike’s eyes light up. They’re very blue and wide, and Jack feels like a dirty old man. “Finish up here and head back to your room for the night. I’m going to walk by in half an hour, and I expect to see you gone.”
“Yes, sir,” and Mike can’t stop the smile that breaks across his face. “Thanks for the help.”
“You barely needed it.” It should not be a turn on, Jack reminds himself, but he can’t help but look over his shoulder as he leaves the room. He pauses for a second to watch the way Mike leans over his books, eyes slightly squinty and fingers tapping the tabletop. The curve of his back in his thin, white undershirt is alluring, and Jack nearly runs into the doorframe because of the distraction.
Seventeen, Jack repeats in his head as he walks down the hall. And a student. But that part seems completely pointless, and Jack’s not certain he’s comfortable with that. He’s found students attractive before, no doubt, but they were his students, and he could distance himself. His job was to teach them and help them shape their way in the world. He has a responsibility, and he takes it seriously, and no matter how pretty or handsome some student might be, he’s never broken his resolve.
And now Mike Cutter has just made an argument that Jack has heard seasoned attorneys stumble through, and Jack has to fall back on his age to make the idea of chatting up Mike Cutter seem unpalatable.
“Seventeen,” he says to the walls and clenches his hands in his pockets.
Part Four
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law & Order
Pairing: [Ed/Lupo; Jack/Mike Cutter; Mike/Connie]
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mike, Jack, and a semi-late night in the mock trial room.
Dis: Bullshit, lies, and obsfuscation.
Author's Notes: As per the usual, some credit for this goes to
amazonqueenkate, who was chatting with me when I laid down the basics. Mike Cutter, in high school, was probably an awkward kid, and the only person who really got him was his mock trial coach, Mr. McCoy. If you're not connecting the dots yet, you may want to get off the trolley. In short: High School AU, because it can be done.Part One: Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Mike Cutter Meets his Roommates
Part Two: Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Mike's First Day of Classes
Ed and Lupo are doing…things that Mike doesn’t think require detailed investigation. He considers throwing his shoe at the wall, but the last time he’d tried the tactic, Ed had gleefully announced he was busy, and then Lupo had made some mildly obscene noises. Mike decides packing up his books, grabbing Ed’s spare bat and getting out of the room is a much better option.
“Back later!” He yells before he closes the outer door. He cuts across the lawns to the library and heads to the basement to the mock trial room. It’s empty, as he’d expected it to be, and Mike lays out his books and notebook and considers where he was. He needs an argument for plain sight exception, and everything he’s written so far just sounds lame.
Mike paces the room a few times to try and get his thoughts going, and the fifth trip to the far wall starts to make him sweat. He strips off his button-down and hangs it over the chair. It’s stuffy this late at night, and he pulls off his shoes and socks to cool off a bit further. Nothing’s coming to him, and he picks up Ed’s bat to give himself something to do. He swings it a few times and pauses to read over his books.
“Mr. Cutter?”
Mike nearly jumps out of his skin as he spins around to see Mr. McCoy in the doorway. “I…um…I…”
“It’s a bit late to be in the building, isn’t it?”
“Curfew’s not for two hours.”
“That wasn’t my question.” Jack walks into the room proper and gives Mike a once over. “Glad to see you’ve discovered a use for your undershirt, Mr. Cutter.”
Mike glances down at himself, slightly embarrassed. “I have my other shirt, but it’s stuffy in here.”
“Which would explain your lack of shoes as well.”
Mike flushes a bit. “Yeah.”
Jack smiles. “They turn off the air conditioning after seven.”
“Oh.”
“You may be more comfortable in your room.”
“My roommates are…distracting.”
“You could work in one of the library study rooms.”
Mike shakes his head. “Too many people walk by. It gets weird. I feel like a monkey with all the windows.”
Jack leans against one of the tables and crosses his arms. “Then you’re stuck here.”
“Looks like.” Mike swings the bat a little, feeling suddenly ridiculous with Jack watching. “My roommate, Ed, said it helps him think.”
“Does it help you think?”
“I dunno, but it’s…nice.” Mike thinks it’s the lamest thing he’s ever said. “I mean-“
“What are you working on?” Jack interrupts before Mike can derail.
“Plain sight exception argument.” Mike holds out his notebook to Jack. “I don’t think it’s very good.”
“Then don’t use it.” Jack takes the notebook but places it facedown next to him. “Wing it.”
Mike’s eyes go wide. “What?”
“Wing it, Mr. Cutter. It’s good practice. You need to think on your feet.”
“I don’t-“
“Go,” Jack commands and feels successful when Mike takes a few steps and starts talking.
“The issue isn’t…It’s about intent…” Mike shakes his head and starts again. “In the digital age, considerations need to be – no, that’s no good. It’s too easy to argue that the same evidence could be found by looking through records.”
Jack nods. “Good. Cut it out and try again.”
“Okay.” Mike gives the bat an experimental swing. It feels good, less awkward, even with Mr. McCoy watching. “The problem is that a police officer is alleged to have overstepped the bounds of the plain sight exception. The solution is to prove he didn’t.” Mike looks at Mr. McCoy, who gives him a nod. “The problem is that it wasn’t a list on a piece of paper, but a list in someone’s palm pilot.”
“Did the officers violate plain view exception?” Jack watches Mike turn over the question in his head and can’t help but admire the time he gives to really consider his options. Even with the mock trial team he’s got, he still spends a great deal of time reminding the students to stop and consider all of their options.
“Rules of plain view,” Mike says quietly, “the first is that the officer have a legal right to be present. The second says that ordinary senses can’t be enhanced by technology, and the third says any discovery must be by chance.”
“Are the rules followed?”
Mike paces back and forth in front of the white board, stopping occasionally to mull a point. He finally looks at Jack, and there’s almost a smile on his face. “Yes.”
Jack raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“You’re not,” Mike states, not stopping to think how it sounds to blandly say such a thing to a teacher. “You think I missed something.”
“Rule number two,” Jack says as a lead. When Mike just stares at him, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. “Advanced technology.”
Mike shakes his head. “Maybe not.” He leans his bat against the wall and walks over to his books and papers. He flips halfway through a stack of loose notes before pulling out the original case paperwork and skimming it. “It doesn’t say how old the phones are.”
“Your point?”
“The first palm pilot came out in 1996. The basic technology has been around for twelve years. That’s not advanced technology.” Mike grins a little. “Even if the other side argues for the possibility of the phone being newer, it doesn’t change the fact that the basic technology is, by its own industry standards, non-advanced.”
Jack nods slowly and tries not to smile. “Good. Now, what’s your argument for the detective e-mailing himself the doctor’s patient list? An e-mail enabled phone isn’t as old as a palm pilot.”
“But it’s not completely new either. It’s at least two years old. That’s the cycle for a person to trade in one phone for a newer model, right?” Mike doesn’t wait for Mr. McCoy to answer, plowing ahead as his thoughts line up. “The police were there to perform a lawful round of questioning in regards to a possible patient of that doctor. That doctor pulled up his patient list on his palm pilot, and then left the palm pilot face-up on his desk. The detective who grabbed the phone didn’t do anything more than push a few buttons and have it sent to his own phone.”
Jack raises his eyebrows, more impressed than he lets on as he says, “And that covers rule number three?”
“The doctor could have looked up his patients on his computer or with paper files which he could have kept out of view of the officers. He placed his palm pilot in a position which made it accessible to the officers and made it clear to them that he was checking his patient list. The detectives believed a person involved in the crime was a patient of that doctor, and so they had the right to use plain sight to retrieve the list of patients.” Mike stops for breath and looks at Mr. McCoy. “Yes?”
It takes a moment for Jack to respond. He’s gotten caught up in Mike’s flow, in the way he paced seven steps back and forth as he walked himself through the brambles and found the clear path to a solid, useful argument. Mike’s eyes are bright, and he’s obviously pleased with himself, and Jack suddenly feels claustrophobic and unseemly sitting in a room with this seventeen-year-old boy who can put together legal rhetoric in such a quick-fire manner. Jack is impressed and pleased and proud and, he realizes as he makes an attempt to stand up straight, turned on.
“Mr. McCoy?” Mike wonders why Mr. McCoy hasn’t said anything. He usually goes after an argument as soon as someone can hash it out for him. “Sir?”
“It’s an excellent argument, Mr. Cutter. It needs some fine-tuning, but overall, I think you’ve got it.” Jack looks away as Mike’s eyes light up. They’re very blue and wide, and Jack feels like a dirty old man. “Finish up here and head back to your room for the night. I’m going to walk by in half an hour, and I expect to see you gone.”
“Yes, sir,” and Mike can’t stop the smile that breaks across his face. “Thanks for the help.”
“You barely needed it.” It should not be a turn on, Jack reminds himself, but he can’t help but look over his shoulder as he leaves the room. He pauses for a second to watch the way Mike leans over his books, eyes slightly squinty and fingers tapping the tabletop. The curve of his back in his thin, white undershirt is alluring, and Jack nearly runs into the doorframe because of the distraction.
Seventeen, Jack repeats in his head as he walks down the hall. And a student. But that part seems completely pointless, and Jack’s not certain he’s comfortable with that. He’s found students attractive before, no doubt, but they were his students, and he could distance himself. His job was to teach them and help them shape their way in the world. He has a responsibility, and he takes it seriously, and no matter how pretty or handsome some student might be, he’s never broken his resolve.
And now Mike Cutter has just made an argument that Jack has heard seasoned attorneys stumble through, and Jack has to fall back on his age to make the idea of chatting up Mike Cutter seem unpalatable.
“Seventeen,” he says to the walls and clenches his hands in his pockets.
Part Four
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no subject
on 2008-03-23 07:59 pm (UTC)When Jack says "Go", one bloody well goes, eh?
Brilliant minds can overturn logic when it comes to age (or, in my case, marital status), unfortunately. See also "why is Dr. S married?!"
no subject
on 2008-03-23 09:22 pm (UTC)Ed and Lupo will be doing a lot of...things. Because horny teenage boys are, well, HORNY.
no subject
on 2008-03-24 02:01 am (UTC)...but you will post the snapshot that leads to Ed and Lupo doing "things" soon, right? *puppy dog eyes*
no subject
on 2008-03-24 02:36 am (UTC)I do have some of the Ed/Lupo written. It may come up soon.
no subject
on 2008-03-24 03:19 am (UTC)One more year, Jack, and he'll be legal. :D
no subject
on 2008-03-24 03:20 am (UTC)::evil laugh::
no subject
on 2008-03-24 04:39 am (UTC)I'm really enjoying the building tension between Jack and Mike, and can't wait to see where it goes. : )
no subject
on 2008-03-24 04:50 am (UTC)