Disclaimer: Scooby-Doo and most of the characters therein are the brainchild of Joe Ruby and Ken Spears, and currently the property of Warner Brothers Animation.

ICYMI: Though everyone else thinks the case of Bruce Wormsley to be done and dusted, Velma and Daphne both have lingering doubts and share their opinions with the group. Freddy shows Daphne he's not ignorant on all matters.

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14. It's No Fun When They Fight Back

This was the moment towards which they'd been working. The endgame had commenced in Captain Rogers' office, eleven o'clock on Tuesday morning.

"Mister and Mrs. Jones," he acknowledged Freddy's parents who were flanking their son on the other side of the desk. "Firstly, allow me to express my sincerest regrets and apologies for your son's recent ordeal."

"Please!" the parents answered in uniform dismissiveness. Freddy's mother, who resembled his Uncle Eddy sporting a blonde wig, bitterly continued: "Don't waste our time with your so-called sincere apologies, Captain! You had no right to keep our son behind bars that night!"

Then came the sobbing and the tears. "Sharing a cell with all those hardened criminals just waiting to do God knows what to him! What the hell were you thinking? Why wasn't he released into our custody?"

"I assure you, Mrs. Jones," replied the Captain in a stoic voice. "The Desk Sergeant on duty that night has been cited and reprimanded for that oversight."

"Oh sure!" Mister Jones rebutted, voice dripping with contempt. "Too little and too late to prevent our lawsuit against you for Unlawful Arrest and False Imprisonment!"

Freddy's father was significantly taller than the mother, square-jawed and with more granite features. He cut a very intimidating figure, even to a twenty-five-year police veteran like Captain Rogers. To a pasty, out-of-his depth attorney, he might as well have been André the Giant. As was confirmed when he turned to the standing attorney representing Freddy: "Right, Mister Cheatham?"

"Oh yes! Oh yes indeed!" Howie Cheatham muttered a hurried confirmation, lest he upset the father of his client. As it happened, the confirmation was insufficient, for Mister Jones had another reprimand at the ready. "You know, Mister Cheatham, I'm surprised we had to approach you. Our son, he may not be the sharpest tool around, but even he had the presence of mind to realize a lawsuit in the making."

The sniveling attorney stammered back: "I was going to, Sir! I was going to! I just thought you'd want to spend all the quality time with my client…err, your son…before I'd bother you with a matter such as this!"

"Hey Dad! What's your problem?" It was Freddie rebuking his father. "At least we're here now! At least we're making things right."

"But Freddy." his mother wanted to counter.

"No buts, Mom! This man got me out of jail, now you and Dad want to bite his head off? I can't believe how rotten you're treating him! You're really disappointing me, you know?"

His parents both looked at him meekly, which gave Howie Cheatham the all-important go-ahead. "Right! Uh…so as we no doubt all know, my client found himself the victim of a gross injustice, for which he was eventually cleared and—"

"Indeed he was, Counsellor!" interrupted Captain Jones. "And you'll be pleased to know we apprehended the true culprit of the Marathon Jewellers heist last night. We grilled him all of last night, and believe you me, he had a lot of tall tales to tell."

The Captain produced a remote control and clicked at a TV/VCR in the corner of his office. The screen came to life, the tape in the cassette started spooling, and all present were treated to a grainy video of Bruce Wormsley's interrogation.

"Like Velma, I'm getting nervous with all this waiting!" whispered an increasingly fidgety Shaggy.

"Oh, Shaggy!" Daphne responded in chastisement. "What's there to be nervous about?"

"Indeed!" reinforced Velma. "We play our parts on cue and we seal the case!"

"Resides," Scooby this time. "Rit's rot rike re'll be rying!"

"Oh definitely!" Daphne spoke again. "There's no faking this!" she continued as she motioned to her broken arm.

"You'll do fine, Shaggy. Don't worry!" Velma was now directing her attention singularly towards Shaggy.

"Quit your bellyachin', Rogers!" It was Red this time. "At least you don't have to worry about any patrol officers or desk sergeants recognizing you!"

"I take it you've been a guest here before, Red?" Daphne asked in a smirky voice.

"I really don't want to talk about it, Blake!" Red answered more in embarrassment than in anger, "Let's just go back to waiting!"

"Reah!" concurred Scooby. "Ren re rake rat runnovaritch rown!"

The timestamped video showed Detective McChokem-Childe applying textbook interrogation technique on an uncooperative Bruce Wormsley who sat cuffed to the desk. She was alternating between being aggressive and sympathetic, empathetic and inhumane. Anything to keep him on his toes while trying to establish a rapport.

"Sorry we're lingering on this part," apologized Captain Rogers before fast-forwarding the tape to the appropriate time and pausing it. "He's confessed already by now, but listen to what more he has to say," the captain guided the assembled before hitting play again.

"You know what I don't get, Bruce?" McChokem-Childe asked with a calm demeanor. "I mean, I get that you're a super genius. I mean, damn…being able to jury-rig a…what's it called again?" she paused to consult her notes – "A 'sonic pressure generator' with bits of scrap metal and used AV parts. That's amazing!"

Wormsley responded with just a sullen nod.

"But what I don't get has to do with you and Simon Simonson. We know you exchanged letters with him while you were in juvie. We know you badgered him into telling him where you could get his inventions that you used as part of your ghost persona. And there's my big question, Bruce: how did you know to approach Simonson? For that matter, how did you know of his inventions? As far as we can tell, the letters were your first correspondence ever. Before that, the two of you had never even heard of one another."

At that point, Captain Rogers hit the pause button and surveyed his audience. Their attention was rapt, he noticed. He then fast-forwarded again, citing: "Not much to see here. He gets evasive and vague until about…here!" The captain allowed the playback to continue normally.

"You're wasting your time, Brucie!" warned McChokem-Childe. "It's not like we've looked at your call logs from the detention center. We know, for example, that you've only had phone calls from two numbers. The one we traced to your home address. Your mother, wasn't it? Ain't maternal love grand? Anyhow, the second number we traced to—"

Captain Rogers paused the tape once more before commenting. "The second number traced back to a payphone situated a block away from a law firm called Dewey, Cheatham & Howe."

There was a collective gasp from those gathered, none louder than from Howie Cheatham.

"From which weren't able to gather much. No witnesses to confirm who used that phone at a specific time on a specific day a month or so ago. I reckon the investigating officer would have better luck playing the next state lottery so that lead was a bust."

He watched as the expressions in front of him changed. The Jones family showed disappointment, but was that a look of relief plastered all over Cheatham's mug?

"But then he had this to say," added the captain as he advanced the tape once more. "Right about…here!"

"How many more times must I say it?" yelled Wormsley, his last nerve seemingly frayed away. "I don't know who called me! But he knew what to say! He knew I was pissed off about Velma Dinkley. He figured I'd want another crack at her! He figured correctly! Then he told me how I can reach out to a guy called Simon Simonson who was doing federal time and also had it in for Velma!"

"Was that because Simonson was an inventor like you and had had some cool stuff that could help you out?" prodded McChokem-Childe.

"I guess," Wormsley admitted, perhaps relieved that his answer was finally being believed.

The detective pressed on: "For all the good it did you, right? You thought you'd get the jump on them, didn't you? Put them on the backfoot and overwhelm them. Show them who's boss!"

The viewers watched as the camera zoomed in on Bruce Wormsley, who could only yield another feeble nod of admission.

"And that's that!" proclaimed Captain Rogers to a captive audience. "Or at least it would have been had we not received new evidence yesterday afternoon from a bunch of concerned citizens, namely Bruce Wormsley's intended victims."

He produced the folder, a gift from Daphne indeed delivered to him at the declared time. He scanned his guests and noticed his time that Cheatem had begun perspiring, in contrast to the Joneses who merely seemed impatient.

"So watch now how the interview takes on a new direction," Captain Rogers explained as he unpaused the tape again.

"Well then I got some bad news for you, Brucie," began McChokem-Childe. "You got played! Shammed! Hornswoggled!"

By now, the fight had left Wormsley as he looked on listlessly. The detective didn't mind at all as it meant she could continue unopposed. "Son, you were just meant to be a distraction! A crash test dummy to test out new technology!"

"He said he'd help me," Bruce almost whimpered. "We had a deal! I get revenge on Velma, I humiliate her and her gang, then he cleans ups after me! I was to meet him after I was done. We'd set up an alibi, he'd see to it that I don't go to jail for this!"

"Except her didn't, did he?" mocked the Detective. "Excuse me while I break out the violins! No Brucie, you were a sap this time! Juvie didn't teach you anything! All he wanted was your armor to—"

The captain paused the tape to fill continue the story. "You know," he addressed the gathering as if issuing an apology, "it turns out that fabric worn by Wormsley was much more important than we thought. See, we looked at it as far as it could be used to determine Freddy's guilt or innocence. But a group of young detectives saw more to it. Plus, they have a whole network of people in Coolsville who owe them a slew of favors. One of those persons was kind enough to provide them with this."

He opened his desk drawer and retrieved from it a document comprising many pages and annexures, which he displayed to his guests.

"We already knew that Simon Simonson invented the anti-gravity boots and the armor. But he was arrested and convicted before he could patent either one of them. And now the Son of Sam law applies, meaning he can't benefit financially off the items he intended for criminal use."

Another glance to the audience, where the Jones clam was munching on popcorn while Cheatham was fidgeting uncomfortably.

"So the patent for these things was up in the air, just waiting to be picked up by a very savvy and attentive patent-cum-criminal attorney – a great mix of skills, by the way!"

Another furtive glance showed just how comically exaggerated Cheatham's discomfort had become. Good…

"As was the case here. This is an application to the Patent Office for patents to those two inventions. Applied for and signed by…" – he turned to the attorney in the room – "you, Mister Howie Cheatham!"

The now extremely antsy Howie Cheatham was suddenly glad he was inside a police station, for it – theoretically anyway – meant he was protected from the Jones clan who was eying him intently, sizing him up with first-degree intent.

"And what's wrong with filing for a patent?" Cheatem began with no big amount of confidence. "Besides, that's an unrelated matter entirely!"

"Maybe," conceded the captain. "but it was good enough for some search warrants and for us to subpoena your phone records. Where we found several calls to several less-than-savory characters. Including, but not limited to – as he listed the names he produced a photograph to correspond with each one – "Ivanna Katzebolsov, doyenne of the local Russian mob. Kim Yoo-Suk, high-level general in the Korean mob. There's more, but you get the point. All contacted the day after this application was filed."

"Wow!" blurted Freddy. "I get it now! So you had access to the formula and the blueprint which you would sell to the highest bidder in the criminal underworld! Then you used Bruce to go after my friends as a test of the new technology. You also had him use Red to frame me so that you can swoop in and clear me of the charges and throw us off his trail!"

And instantly the room went silent. It went silent because Freddy was known to all assembled for his crackpot conjecturing, but this time his conjecturing was more or less spot-on. Reactions varied. His parents were amazed and relieved that his logical faculties were working properly. Cheatham was perspiring furiously, looking desperately for a straw at which to clutch. But Captain Rogers was frustrated at having his momentum disturbed: he wanted to make the whole reveal himself without thee interruption.

"OK, very well," the captain sighed. He then gave the summarized version of how Cheatham as a lawyer had access to all the case files involving 'those meddling kids and their puppy' and was privy to their methods. How Cheatham stumbled across the cases involving Wormsley and Simonson. How Cheatham aggressively pursued Daphne's father into keeping him on retainer for his daughter's detective work. All in preparation for this grand scheme.

And when he was done…

"Well…nice theory, Captain," wavered Cheatham uncertainly behind however much bravado he could muster. "Too bad…uh…too bad you've only got circumstantial evidence and testimony from a known criminal. And what's illegal about applying for a patent that's up for grabs anyway? "

The more be rebuttals he offered, the more confidence Howie Cheatham regained. The more he seemed to be reverting back to his slimy defence lawyer mode. However, Captain Rogers would not be caught by surprise. He had, in fact, anticipated this move. "Very well, Mister Cheatham. Fair point. Now let's talk about the assault charges."

Before his suspect could even look at him quizzically, he called to the door: "Officer Ruegger! Please see our other guests in!"

OK, showtime!

Daphne, her friends – and Red – were chaperoned into the captain's office by the patrolman. One of Velma's instructions was to sell their injuries for maximum impact. So in they limped and groaned, the better to put on a convincing display. And it worked. They watched as Freddy's parents went pale at the sight. And if they were pale, then Cheatem was absolutely pallid, as if all the melanin had fled his skin.

"As you can see, Mister Cheatham," spoke Captain Rogers as he motioned to the kids, "these are the victims of Bruce Wormsley's rampage." Then, motioning to the new guests: "Children, would you care to detail the injuries you sustained recently by Bruce Wormsley?"

Daphne went first: "Daphne Blake. Dislocated right shoulder. Right arm broken in two places, requiring titanium pins to be inserted."

She set the tone and the rest followed in due order.

"Red Herring. Facial injuries and femoral nerve damage defending myself from his attack." It sounded rehearsed – and in fairness, it was – but through coaching from Velma, Red's delivery was effective. It swayed opinion in the right direction.

"Norville Rogers. Bruising, a mild concussion, and some superficial cuts." In fact, Velma had done well in coaching all the participants.

"Scooby-Doo. Ruised ribs. Rextensive ear rauma, rinse recovered."

And lastly: "Velma Dinkley. Bruised intercostal muscle. Torn intercostal muscle. Bruised ribs."

Velma's plan dictated they show no emotion as they listed their injuries, but the sight of an already pale Howie Cheatham becoming paler with each performance was a sight to be relished. And relish it Captain Rogers did as well as he resumed.

"So that's four counts of felony assault, on minors no less. Plus one of animal cruelty. Oh how the charges keep piling on!"

"Hey wait a minute!" Cheatem was grasping at his final straw. "Wormsley did all of that! All that is on him!"

"Only because you set him loose! His intent and actions transfer back to you!"

And Howard Benedict Arnold Cheatham would doom himself with his next utterance: "He was only supposed to scare them off. He wasn't supposed to hurt them!"

"Quick! Did you hear what he just said?" the captain pointed to the Joneses, who answered in the affirmative. So too did Daphne's group when similarly prompted. So too Officer Ruegger.

"There you go, Mister Cheatham. A room full of witnesses who heard you admit to conspiracy to commit assault on minors, child endangerment, and also cruelty to animals. Add that to your criminal conspiracy to deal in arms charges and you're looking at twenty-five minimum. Maximum security! And you know how much those convicts just love it when they find out their cellmates are child beaters and killers. You think our evidence is circumstantial? We've got plenty of it and guess what? It all adds up to a watertight case."

Daphne and her friends watched in inner glee as the man who had engineered their torment was rendered paralytic. They drank in the sight of his legs buckling out from under him, causing him to slump to the floor and curled into a fetal position. He remained unresponsive in that position, ignoring and resisting Officer Ruegger's attempts to bring him back to a standing position.

"Or there's another way," offered Captain Rogers. "I've got an ADA outside who'll take your confession…your full confession. In exchange, you serve your time in an out-of-state, medium-security facility. Nobody who knows you. No looking over your shoulder, worrying which inmate will try to shiv you. With good behavior, you could get out in ten, fifteen tops. Your choice."

Silence prevailed as Cheatham mulled over his fate and drew the only possible conclusion. Defeated, he rose unsteadily back to his feet. He surveyed the kids and the puppy intense, who all eyeing him with no emotion. The regret in his expression spoke of knowledge and insight acquired too late about their resilience and abilities. He then looked sullenly back at the captain.

"Send him in. I'll take the deal," was all he could say.

Just like Velma planned it, mused a triumphant Daphne.

Only once they were out of the office and sure that they were truly out of earshot…only then did the gang break down into whoops and howls of delight. Hugs were given freely, high fives just as freely exchanged. Laughter erupted spontaneously, the overall tone betraying each participant's joy and relief at having overcome their most devious enemy yet, one who could hide himself out in the open without any disguise.

"I'll be damned!" exulted Red. "I'll be damned! Your plan worked, Dinkley! You stopped the mastermind behind all of this!"

"No Red," countered Velma in her usual modest way. "We all did Just by sticking to the plan."

"Yeah," confirmed Shaggy. "Like, for once a plan went off without a hitch!"

"No thanks to Jones over here!" added Red as he pointed to his wannabe nemesis. "You jumped the gun with your explanation! You almost cost the captain his case!"

And for the first time in a long time, it was Daphne standing up for Freddy. "Oh, Red! Couldn't you hear how he forced the captain to get a move on? You forget how bored we were getting outside while waiting for our turn. I imagine the Joneses must have been feeling the same way."

"Reah, Reddy!" Scooby piped in. "Rat russ rwick rinking!"

"A-hem!" Mister Jones's throat-clearing cut right through the banter. "Kids, you've had your fun, you've put away the bad guy. Now let's get you back to school!"

"Yes Sir!" they replied collectively while moaning inwardly at being brought back to reality from their high.

Except for Red. "Nah, I'm good. Sir. I've got my own ride."

"If you say so," replied the elder Jones, who then offered upon parting. "Red, my wife and I never got the chance to say this to you…but thank you. Thank you for your role in clearing our son and saving his friends' lives."

Mrs. Jones took the opportunity to approach the delinquent and hug him tightly, much to his public embarrassment. And as if to compound his embarrassment, she added: "We can never thank you enough, you wonderful thing you! You saved our boy!"

"Yeah, Red," added Freddy. "Who knew you had it in you to do the right thing?"

"Freddy!" his mother admonished. "Don't you dare speak badly of this nice young man who risked his life for you."

And despite the scolding being aimed at Freddy, Red was the one left flushed by the woman's kind words and heartfelt praise. He was still red-faced as he stood in place after the gang had left.

"They must mean a lot to you if you were willing to stick your neck out for them like that," the voice came from behind him. Red turned around and immediately recognized the owner: the third patrolman who accompanied him at the crash scene.

Red took a brief moment to reflect before answering: "You know, they might just be the best friends I ever had."

And we are done with this, the penultimate chapter of this tale. The true big bad has been outed and put away, but there's still the matter of the gang coming to terms with their relationships. Maybe even charting new courses for their futures, who knows? Anyway, that will be the topic of the final chapter, which will also be the epilogue. Hang in there, dear readers! The ride is almost over!

So yeah, let's go to the previous chapter's reviewers:

Mario bros fan4ever: Well how about that? A plan that goes off without a hitch?

Martial Arts Master: Interesting and plausible theory. There'd be hell to pay from the parents otherwise.

And so to my notes:

Two main points pertaining to the Scooby-Doo titles were important here. The first one is how TV episodes and movies usually end with the criminal turned over to police custody. However, from the police's point of view, the arrested party would not yet be a criminal, but a suspect. The police would still need to corroborate the gang's allegations, then they'd either need to secure a confession from the suspect or build a case to present to the District Attorney. I felt it would be cool to delve into this aspect and have Scooby and friends involved in the process. Then there's the confession itself. I went that route for the sake of convenience. The process itself was very much simplified with maybe a shortcut taken here and there, in keeping with the simplified processes from the show. Still, I'm quite sure that the confession is adequate. Although there's no evidence that Cheatham was Mirandized, Captain Rogers did not ask him any questions that would have him incriminate himself. The captain was merely having a conversation in which Cheatham had volunteered whatever information he felt appropriate.

Secondly, I wanted to portray the Coolsville Police Department as a competent law enforcement agency. After all, the kids might bring in the suspects, but they must still close the cases. And it's them, the police, who have the skillset to make such things happen. With that in mind, I wanted to give them a chance to show off said skills.

I'm aware that the Son of Sam law aims to prevent convicted criminals from benefiting from the publicity generated by their crimes. But this fictional story is set in a fictional world in which Son of Sam was expanded to include other intangible assets such as patents. I'm also aware that Son of Sam was struck off the Californian Legislature in 2002 - my best guess is that Coolsville is situated in northern California - so it's just as well that the story is set in 1994 when the law was still in effect.

Finally, here's this chapter's Spotify list:

Dirty Laundry – Don Henley

Mediate – INXS

Why Can't We Be Friends – War

So that's it for now. See you in the final chapter!