Chapter 1: The Arrest

Disclaimer: Not mine, Dick Wolf's. No permission, no profit, no money, yadda yadda.

From the episode "Burden", set in 1998

Briscoe:  They had no reason to want to see him dead.  You did.  Look what's happening in your beautiful family.  Your wife's sleeping with some dance teacher, your daughter's one step away from living on the street, and you have no money.  And all because of that kid!

Suspect: You don't know me, if you knew me you would see-

Briscoe:  I know you!  If you had the stones -

Curtis:    You don't know this man, Lennie.  Look, this isn't about money, or adultery, or anything like that, is it, Joe?
My wife's got MS.  I picture her life ten years from now.  And it kills me, because it might not be a pretty picture.  You see your boy, he used to be strong, played soccer, yeah?

Suspect: Yes.

Curtis:    My wife used to run three miles every morning.  Did you imagine Michael at twenty years old, forty years old, still in that same room, same bed, same tortured pain?

Suspect: Yeah.

Curtis:    Me too.  And you wanna know the worst thing?  I know why it's happening.  It's my fault.  God is punishing her because of something I did.

Suspect: No no, see, you cannot think like that.

Curtis:    I tell myself that, but every time I look at her I feel the guilt.  Every time I think of her, every time I think of my daughters, and what they're going to lose.
Someone you love is suffering, they have no hope.  What can you do to help this person?  I mean, how often have you asked yourself this question?  When you bathe him?

Suspect: Every time I kissed him good night.

Curtis:    And you knew there was only one answer.  You had to do it.  You had to do it because you loved him. (Suspect starts crying).  Let it go.  It was an act of love, Joe.

Suspect: I loved Michael.  And maybe I ... But I didn't do this.  I didn't kill him.

===

Saturday, September 27, 2003
1:17 am

Lennie Briscoe yawned as he and Ed Green drove to the scene of a possible homicide.  Green filled Briscoe in on the information they had so far.  "Elderly Hispanic woman, looks like a drug overdose, found by her daughter.  Don't know why they called us."

"Where is this place again?"

"229 Millview Avenue, Apt 14."

"I swear I know that address from somewhere."

They arrived.  There was an ambulance and a police car in front of the building, and a couple of people standing outside talking.

"Oh, yeah, I know now - this is where Rey Curtis and his family moved last year.  Haven't had a chance to visit them yet."  As Briscoe and Green entered the building, Briscoe took in the seedy surroundings, the garbage on the street, the broken windows.  This didn't look like the tidy little neighbourhood Curtis and his family used to live in.

Briscoe wondered where in the building the Curtis family lived, and if they'd been woken up by the commotion.  Maybe if this did warrant an investigation, he could stop by Rey's place a few times during the course of his work.  They had slowly drifted apart in the last couple of years, and Briscoe hadn't seen Curtis or his family in over a year.  He wondered how the girls were doing, and how Deborah, Curtis' wife, was coping with her MS.

When they arrived at Apt 14, they flashed their badges and entered the apartment.  There weren't very many people around, but the apartment was tiny and seemed very crowded.  The photographer had finished her initial work and was just waiting for additional instructions from the detectives, and the uniformed cops were talking to the family in the bedroom.  Briscoe's eyebrows went up.  There was Curtis' family - his wife Deborah, in a wheelchair, holding their nine-year old Isabel's hand.  Deborah looked a lot thinner than the last time Briscoe had seen her, and older.  A woman Briscoe didn't know was holding a small child, maybe two years old.  Curtis' older daughters, Olivia and Serena, stood close to their mother.

"Lennie?" Deborah looked up at him with reddened eyes.

"Deborah, what are you doing here?  Hi girls," Briscoe gave Deborah a hug and bent down to ruffle the girls' hair.

"Do you know these people, Detective?" a uniform came up behind him.

"Yeah, they're Rey Curtis' family - he used to be my partner.  What's going on?"

"The victim is Estela Curtis.  These people called it in - this lady came in to check on her mother and found her dead," he pointed to the woman Briscoe didn't recognize.

"You're a friend of Rey's?  I'm Lisa, his sister.  That's our mother," she pointed to the bed, her eyes tear-filled.

Briscoe put his hand on Deborah's shoulder. "Deborah.  I'm so sorry.  Where's Rey?"

Green noticed that Deborah and Lisa glanced at each other quickly.  Deborah nodded to Lisa, who spoke first, "He's - he's out-" at that moment there was a small commotion at the front door.

"What's going on in here?"

"Sir, you can't go in there-"

"This is my mother's apartment, let me in," Briscoe heard Curtis' voice.

"It's OK, let him in," he called out.  He entered the small living room just as Curtis was allowed in.

Briscoe took a look at his former partner and was shocked.  Curtis looked like he had aged about ten years since the last time Briscoe had seen him.  He had always had proud posture, a bright expression and impeccable grooming, in contrast with Briscoe's own 'slouch and grouch' demeanor.  This man... was almost unrecognizable.  He was simply dressed, in a white t-shirt and jeans, and his face looked gaunt and lined, his eyes shadowed.  His ribs showed under the t-shirt, and his jeans hung loosely on his hips.  His shoulders slumped and his hair, much longer than before and falling down into his eyes, sported grey that hadn't been there the last time Briscoe had seen him.  But most striking were his eyes, which weren't the same intelligent, alert eyes that Briscoe had met every day for four years.  Curtis's eyes were tired, bloodshot, dull.

"Lennie? What's going on?  Is Deborah-"

"She's fine, Rey."  Curtis relaxed slightly.  "Rey, your mother..."

"She's dead, Daddy," said Isabel, who had followed Briscoe into the living room.  "Nona's dead.  Aunt Lisa found her and we called the police."  She started to cry.  Curtis stared at her in shock for a minute, then bent down to pick her up.

"Where were you?"  asked Green, entering the living room.

"It's, it's the last Friday of the month... I was out, it's my night off..." Curtis muttered distractedly, holding his daughter close and stroking her hair.

"Where did you go?"

"My sister takes the kids and Deborah, and I get to go out."

"Where?"

Curtis shook his head and looked at Green for the first time.  "Oh, sorry, I went to a bar on 59th... Rosario's, Rosita's, or something."  Green wrote it down.  Curtis focused on him. "You're taking our statements?" he realized.

"Yes, we are."

"What, is there evidence of foul play?  How did she die?"

"We don't know yet.  But it does seem a little suspicious."

"Suspicious how?"

"Well, right now it looks like a suicide or drug overdose, but-"

"Suicide?!" Curtis shook his head vehemently.  "Not my mother.  She's Catholic," he explained.  "Very old-fashioned Catholic, it's a sin."

"Well, what else could have killed her?"

"I - I don't know.  She's sixty-eight years old but she's in pretty good health, except for the Alzheimer's-"

"Alzheimer's?  And she lives alone?"

"Ed..." Briscoe began.  Curtis didn't seem to notice Green's accusative manner.

"We live two floors up.  She's - she was gonna move in with us eventually.  She was just in the early stages of Alzheimer's.  I check in on her every day.  She had my beeper number in case anything went wrong."  The little girl in Curtis's arms kept crying, and he started to rock her gently from side to side as he held her.  "Shhhh...." He patted her hair.  "Sweetie, you should go to bed.  Lisa," he called out. Lisa appeared. "Can you take the kids back to the apartment, put them to bed?  How come they're up anyway?"

"I'm sorry, I was so upset when I came back and got Deborah, I woke them up."  She took the little girl from him and left, murmuring softly to her.

"Rey," Briscoe said.  Curtis turned to him, eyes a little dazed.

"I'm sorry about your mother."

"Yeah.  Me too, I guess." Curtis was silent for a minute, then shook his head to clear it. "Can - can I see her?"

Briscoe and Green led Curtis to the back bedroom, where an old woman lay on the bed.  Curtis seemed confused, and said nothing as he stared at his mother's body on the bed.  He knelt down beside her slowly.  Then he touched her shoulder gently, crossed himself, and stayed next to her for a moment silently with his eyes closed and his head bowed.  At last he opened his eyes, crossed himself again and stood up, then returned to the living room.

"What's suspicious about her death?"

"The EMT said that all they've found in the house so far that could be deadly was Tylenol, which isn't fatal that quickly even in large doses," Green said.

"When did this happen?  When were you called?"

"Just now.  We got here just a few minutes before you."

Curtis nodded, then sat down on the couch, putting his head in his hands.  Briscoe sat down next to him and noticed that Curtis had a faint smell of alcohol, cigarette smoke, sweat - and marijuana.  Briscoe privately wondered just how popular pot was at this bar Curtis had been to, and what straight-laced Curtis thought about it.  He remembered his young partner telling him once, 'I'm not one of those parents who has a problem taking a strong stand against drugs. I never took drugs and I don't feel like a hypocrite telling my kids not to.'  And now he had apparently spent the night at a bar where it was common enough to get the smell onto his clothes.

Deborah was wheeled back into the living room. "Rey," she said.  Curtis looked up, smiled at her wanly, and took her hand.

"You all done with the police, hon?" he asked her.

"Yeah.  I think so.  There wasn't much to say.  Lennie," she turned to him, "are you going to be looking into this?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."  She touched Curtis' cheek. "Are you all done talking to them?"

"I think so.  Am I?" Curtis asked Briscoe and Green.

"For now, yeah.  Go get some rest, put your kids to bed," Briscoe said.

===

"Let's go check out Rosario's," Green said as they exited the building.

Briscoe shrugged.  "You go check it out, Ed."  At Green's questioning look, he explained, "Come on, the guy used to be my partner, I'm not gonna go checking out his alibi."

"I'm sure it'll be fine.  This looks enough like a suicide to me, even if your friend doesn't think so.  Maybe she had other medication we haven't found yet, got really confused and took too much.  I'll let you know if I turn up anything strange."

"Yeah, well, if you do I'll take myself off the case."

===

Sunday, September 28
5:45pm

Two days later, Briscoe and Green knocked on the door of Curtis's apartment.  As they waited, they heard a child screaming, then a man's voice raised sharply.  Crash of glass, quick footsteps, then a man's voice yelling briefly and the sound of a slap.  The child screamed some more.  Briscoe frowned and knocked again, louder this time.

"Yeah?" Curtis' voice called from inside the apartment.

"Rey?  It's Lennie.  Can we come in?"

"Yeah, yeah," Curtis' voice called out. "Serena, abra la puerta por favor."  A child's voice answered, unintelligible. "Abrela!" Curtis' voice snapped.

Serena Curtis opened the door.  Briscoe smiled down at her, "Hi, sweetheart."  She looked up at him, serious and obviously upset.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," she opened the door wider and scurried down the hall.  Briscoe and Green entered the apartment.  Curtis appeared from the kitchen, carrying the baby in a sling on his hip and holding a broom and dustpan.  Once more, Briscoe was struck by the change in his old friend.  Curtis looked worn and tired.

"Hey, Lennie.  Ed, is it?" he hardly looked at them as he moved to the living room, to a spot where something made of glass had clearly shattered.  "Sorry, I'll be with you in a minute - Serena just broke a glass. I told that kid not to bring it in here-" he broke off as the baby in the sling started to squirm, almost causing him to drop her.  "No, Tania, stop it, I have to get the glass off the floor - dejate - mierda!" he exclaimed, exasperated, as he tried to handle the broom and dustpan and the struggling child.

"Rey, give her to me," Briscoe held out his arms for the child.  "Tania, you want to come see Uncle Lennie?"  The child peered at him suspiciously, then clung tighter to Curtis.

"Sorry, she doesn't know you," Curtis said shortly. "She'll kick like a mule if you take her."

"I don't mind.  Give you a chance to sweep that up before anybody steps on it."

"Thanks," Curtis transferred the squirming child over to Briscoe, then quickly swept up the mess.  He took the child, now screaming, back from Briscoe as soon as he was done and placed her back in the sling.  She quieted down instantly.

"Rey, we need to talk to you about your mother's death," Briscoe began.

"Yeah.  Hey, I'm in the middle of making dinner, you mind coming into the kitchen while we talk?"

"Sure." They followed him into a tiny kitchen where a pot was bubbling. "How are you doing?" Briscoe asked him.

"What?  Oh, fine.  The funeral's on Tuesday at 1. St. Ignacio's Church on 58th."

Curtis stared at the kitchen countertop for a minute as if he couldn't remember what he was supposed to be doing, then moved to a bunch of vegetables lying half-chopped and finished chopping them, automatically moving the knife away from the grasping hands of the child in the sling as he worked.

"What did you want to know?  Did the ME finish the autopsy report?"

Green answered him. "No, it's not quite done yet.  It does look like an overdose, though.  Not a heart attack or stroke.  Now, you said you were at a bar?"

"Yeah," Curtis nodded, concentrating on his cooking and not looking at Briscoe or Green.

"You left home at about 7:30, and you came home at 1:30am?"

Another quick nod.

"OK.  The problem is, Rey, that I went to the bar you were at, and you weren't there that long.  The bartender said you came in at 8pm, but left before 9.  And you didn't get home until 1:30.  Can you clear that up for us?"

Curtis sighed and closed his eyes, then opened them, dumped the vegetables into a pot, and turned to face Briscoe and Green.  He looked at the floor, opened his mouth, then closed it again, trying to find the words.  "No, I, I wasn't at the bar the whole time, I-" he suddenly noticed his eldest daughter Olivia, standing at the kitchen door.

"Honey, please go watch your sisters.  I have to talk to Lennie and Detective Green for a while, OK?"

"Why?"

Curtis sighed wearily.  "Vayase por favor.  Serena necesita ayuda con sus tareas."

"No, I wanna stay." Curtis brushed his bangs out of his eyes and rubbed his forehead tiredly.  "Daddy, I know what you did on Friday.  It's OK.  I can stay."

Curtis smiled bitterly and shook his head as he stared at the floor.  "Sweetheart, go back inside, please."

"You went to a bar and picked up another woman and slept with her, right?"

Curtis' head snapped up and he stared at Olivia. "What?!  How-"

"It's OK, I know," she said gently.  "Mom knows too.  It's OK, Daddy.  I was pretty mad at you when I figured it out but Mom said she understood and that's what men do and since she can't-"

Curtis made a small sound in his throat, reached out and hugged his daughter hard, stopping her words.  His face looked ashen in the split second before he knelt down and buried his face into her hair.  His shoulders heaved for a moment, as he tried desperately to bring himself under control.  Olivia hugged him back, then pulled away to look at him, but he couldn't meet her eyes.  The baby whimpered and tried to touch his face.  Briscoe and Green glanced at each other, uncomfortable being present at such a painful and private moment.

"Did she look like Mom?" Olivia asked.  Curtis made a sound like a sob and swallowed hard.

"Honey, I really can't talk about this to you, OK?" his voice shook.  "It's - it's not something you should even... even know about at your age.  God, I'm so sorry..." his eyes filled with tears.  He stroked his daughter's hair, obviously fighting for calm.

"It's OK, Daddy.  Nobody's mad at you.  Nobody blames you."

"Please, sweetie, we'll talk about this later, go inside, please." He wiped his eyes quickly and cleared his throat, standing and pushing her gently away.

"Daddy-"

"Olivia, vayase por favor."

"Uncle Lennie, Daddy didn't do anything wrong, not against the law anyway.  Don't treat him like he's a criminal, I mean, you know him-"

"Olivia!  Adentro, ahora!"  The baby in Curtis's arms started at his sharp tone and started to whimper.  He automatically cradled and soothed her, looking at Olivia pleadingly. "Vayase, hablamos mas tarde, ya?"

"Should I take the baby?"

"Yeah." He passed her off, along with the sling. "Thanks."  He was silent as his daughters left the small kitchen.  He sagged against the kitchen counter for a moment, then wiped his eyes and cleared his throat again. "Yeah.  I, I wasn't alone at the bar," he said quietly, gathering up the vegetable peels and throwing them into the trash.

Briscoe winced at the pain and shame in Curtis' voice and face. "Rey, why didn't you tell us?"

Curtis grimaced in self-disgust.  "Why do you think?" He picked up a wooden spoon and started stirring the food in the pot. "I was ashamed, OK?  I get back from cheating on my wife - again - and my mother's dead and my friend's asking me questions in front of my wife and sister and kids about where I was.  What do you want me to say, 'Oh, I was out getting lucky'?"

"This happens a lot?" Green asked neutrally.

Curtis sighed. "Just about every last Friday of the month," he said bitterly, and gave his eyes another quick swipe with the back of his hand.  He took a long, shuddering breath and swallowed.

"Can you tell us the name of the lady you were with?"

"No, actually, I can't.  Rita, I think.  Anita?  I can tell you where she lived and what she looked like, though." Curtis' jaw was set as he stirred the vegetables.  He still hadn't met Briscoe's or Green's eyes.

"That would be helpful."

"Hispanic, maybe 5'6", athletic build, long black hair, kinda curly, no bangs.  Wide cheekbones, wore lots of jewelry.  Red dress, I think - it was pretty dark at the bar.  Apartment near Rosario's, I can point it out to you.  She's probably a regular there.  Am I... are you doing an investigation?"

"No, not me," Briscoe volunteered.  "Right now we're just asking questions.  If it comes to an investigation I won't be doing it."

Curtis briefly met his eyes, then looked back down.  "Thanks, I guess."

"Was this lady at the bar a pro?"  Green asked in the same neutral tone as before.

"A pro?"  Curtis frowned briefly in puzzlement, then understood and blushed. "Oh. Oh, no.  Just a patron."

"Do you mind if I talk to your family, Rey?" Green asked.

"Fine, go ahead."  Green excused himself.

Curtis finished cooking, then started to clear off the tiny table in the kitchen.  Silence stretched out, until he said, "What, Lennie, no comment?  I woulda thought you'd have something to say."

Briscoe shook his head.  "I don't know what to say."  He suddenly felt awkward before this bitter stranger who looked so much like his ex-partner.  "Look, can I help you with anything - set the table, anything?"

Curtis looked up, startled at the offer.  "Uh, sure - three settings on the table.  Cutlery's in here, dishes, glasses over there." The two men worked in silence for a few minutes.

"How's Deborah doing?"

"You saw her. How's it look like she's doing?" Curtis half-snapped, but his voice was too tired to give the words any sting.  He opened the oven door and took out a meatloaf.

"And the kids?"

"Fine.  Well, Serena's going through some trouble, and Tania... you know she's disabled, right?  Two and a half years old, pretty much at the physical development of a one-year old, mentally it's hard to tell but she's way behind."

"What happened?"

"I don't know.  At the time Deborah was taking Cyclophosphamide - we didn't know she was pregnant.  That may have done it.  Or it may just have been one of those things.  Shit happens."  He sliced the meatloaf, then moved to pour milk into the glasses.  His voice was flat, unemotional as he worked quickly, then looked up at Briscoe's pitying gaze.

"Rey..." Briscoe trailed off.  "How - how's your family doing?"  Curtis was silent.  "I mean, seven years ago... you had one fling and it nearly tore you apart.  Now... every month?"

"Shit happens," Curtis said shortly.  He took a tray out of a cupboard and started setting a place on it, then put food on the tray.  "If you don't mind, I have to feed my family now," he closed the conversation off.

Briscoe looked at the table, and asked, "Where are you and Deborah eating?"

"Deborah eats in her room when she's not feeling too good.  I already ate." Briscoe looked at his friend's gaunt frame.  "Do you mind?  I have to get the kids in here, and it's too crowded with five people."

Briscoe nodded and backed up out of the kitchen.

"We'll let you know when the ME's report is done."

"Thanks." Curtis called out into the small hallway, "Niñas!  Vengan!"

Olivia, Serena and Isabel trooped down the hallway, making their way to the kitchen.  Olivia gave her father's arm a squeeze as she went past him.  He smiled at her sadly, then picked up the tray and took it to the back of the apartment.  Olivia looked up at Lennie.

"He didn't do anything wrong, Uncle Lennie.  Don't go around making him feel bad, asking him all sortsa questions.  He's doing his best."

"Shut up," Serena shot her sister a dirty look.  Olivia ignored her.

"He don't get help from anybody.  I try, but he says I'm too little and he doesn't want me doing too much around the house.  He says I should do my homework instead.  And Mom tries too but she's too sick."

Curtis came out of the hallway with a basket of dirty laundry.

"Do you have anything else to ask about?" he asked.  Briscoe shook his head.  Curtis opened the front door for him and Green, then followed them out. "Laundry's downstairs," he explained at Green's questioning look.  "See you."

Green and Briscoe went back to the car.

"What do you think?" asked Green.  Briscoe looked at him.

"I already told you what I think.  I don't think anything happened - his mom just died, that's all."

"You don't think it's suspicious that he didn't tell us he left the bar with another woman?  What with him being a cop and all?"

"You heard him.  He's embarrassed.  Besides, he didn't lie - just didn't tell us the whole truth."

"He should know better."

"What, he should know better than to lie or he should know better than to sleep around?"

"Both."

Briscoe looked out the window, remembering another cocky young detective who also made snap judgments on the people they met during their work, who had been convinced that nothing excused cheating, lying, or any of the other human failings they encountered every day.  He wondered where that man had gone.

===

Monday, September 29
10:20am

"Thanks," Briscoe accepted a cup of coffee from Curtis' lieutenant.  "So... what's Rey like at work these days?"

"You used to be his partner, didn't you?" Briscoe nodded. "He had a lot of stories about you in the first while after he got here.  He did pretty good at first."

"What changed?"

"That last kid, that's what changed.  He was pretty upset when they found out Deborah was pregnant again.  She was four months along, and she was taking some heavy meds.  The doctor told them she shouldn't have the baby, but... well, you know they're Catholic." Briscoe nodded.

"So then the baby was born.  It was pretty hard on him for the first couple of months, especially since Deborah was also getting worse - that's around when she finally went into the wheelchair for good.  We all figured it would get better when the baby got older.  But the baby's got some kind of problem, birth defect or something.  It's been tough for him."

"How's he doing at work?"

The lieutenant looked uncomfortable.  "I know he used to be a good detective, Briscoe... we all understand why he's not always able to give it 100%.  We don't have any complaints."

"About what?"

"Look, I don't want this being part of an investigation."

"Off the record.  I'm not doing an investigation, I'm just worried about him."

"He's... he's not doing too good.  He comes in late, works alone, doesn't talk to anybody, often leaves early.  Takes a lot of personal days - Tania gets sick a lot.  Usually looks exhausted, kinda scruffy.  He... he misplaces files, gets behind on his work - he always fixes whatever he screws up, but... the screw-ups are getting more and more frequent these days. We all cover for him, but there's only so far we can cover, you know?"

"How's he doing with the other people here... does he have friends, people to talk to, people who could help out?"

"To be honest, he doesn't spend much time socializing.  Most of the time he works through coffee breaks and sleeps at lunch time.  I get the feeling he doesn't get a lot of sleep at home.  As for going out for drinks after work - forget it.  He doesn't have the time.  He's pretty much a loner, really."

Briscoe remembered when Curtis had a serious demeanor but an easy smile, and lots of friends at the 27th.  Nobody could have said that Curtis was the biggest party animal in the precinct, but he wasn't a loner either.  This man seemed so different.

"How long has this been going on?"

"It's been gradual, over the last few years.  The last year has been really bad.  I've actually had to bring him in to talk to him a couple of times about his work, getting behind on stuff.  He's gotten a few black marks that I just couldn't keep off his record."

===

Green looked up as Briscoe entered the squad room.  "Lennie, I think it's time to ask the Lieutenant to take you off the case."

"Why?" Briscoe's heart sank.

"The ME says that the old lady took a whole bunch of pills, all right, but they weren't the pills that were supposed to be in that pillbox.  She was supposed to be taking tacrine, but what they found in her stomach was Methotrexate instead.  That's used as an MS drug, and Deborah's got a prescription for it.  The ME also found alcohol, a lot of it.  She OD'd on alcohol and the MS drug.  Plus," Briscoe closed his eyes as Green continued, "I checked her will. She just changed it to give everything to Rey and his family, not that there's much of an estate or anything, but none of it's going to Rey's brother and sister.  Plus, her life insurance names Rey as the beneficiary.  I thought she might be a suicide but there's no note, and her life insurance doesn't cover suicide.  And even he says she wouldn't have killed herself."

Briscoe sat down heavily. "That doesn't look too good."

"No, it doesn't."

"Eddie, I know Rey.  He just wouldn't do anything like this."

"What about his wife?"

"His wife's in a wheelchair.  And she wouldn't either."

"How well do you know them now?" Green asked pointedly.  Briscoe shrugged and looked away. "It didn't look like they have a lot of money.  I saw lots of patches on the kid's clothes, broken stuff in the apartment.  It looks like they're hurting pretty bad for cash.  Plus you saw him, Lennie.  He looks pretty tired already from taking care of all the kids and his wife, and his mother had Alzheimer's.  Who do you think was going to take care of her?  That alone would give him motive."

"Not Rey," Briscoe maintained stubbornly.

"If you didn't know him, he'd be your prime suspect now, wouldn't he?"

Briscoe hesitated, hating himself for what he had to say.  "Yeah.  Yeah, he would."

"Then go get the Lieutenant to assign somebody else to this."

Briscoe nodded sadly and got up. "Ed... just make sure you look at other possibilities too, OK?"

"OK."

===

Briscoe attended the funeral for Curtis' mother and spent some time with him and his family, getting to know them again.  He was struck by how joyless they all were.  Not that this was abnormal - the death of a parent or grandparent was bound to bring up sadness and loss and introspection - but it seemed to him that the family was different from how he remembered them.  He remembered a young couple, very much in love, with three little girls full of energy and joy.  He remembered Curtis' face lighting up when they came to see him at the precinct, picking up his children and talking to them with visible pleasure, playing with them and seeming happy in their presence.

None of that seemed evident now.  As he visited with them, he was struck again and again by how little Curtis and his wife talked, as well as Curtis' constant motion.  There was no time when he wasn't doing dishes, tending bumps and bruises, feeding and changing the baby, cooking, cleaning, folding clothing.  His elder daughter often helped, but overall it seemed that Curtis had an insurmountable load of drudgework to do, and that he spent most of his waking hours doing it.

The change in Serena, his second oldest child, was also disturbing.  He hadn't seen her much in the last few years, and knew that a few years could change a child into a whole new person.  But the child he remembered had had big gap-toothed smile and perpetual excited chatter.  This child was sullen, almost always angry and hostile.  While he was there, she got into several fights with her sisters, which Curtis either ignored or broke up wearily, impatiently.  This usually resulted in shouting matches between Serena and Curtis.  Briscoe couldn't remember ever having heard Curtis fight with his children before, or go beyond a stern reprimand in his presence.  Now he didn't seem to talk to them much, especially to Serena, without weariness or anger tingeing his voice.

He wondered what Green was finding in his investigation.

===

Wednesday, October 1
11:35am

"So... how's the Curtis case going?"

Green regarded him for a minute.  "Lennie."

Briscoe gave him a look.  "I'm not trying to interfere.  I'm just interested."

"I think we're pretty close to making an arrest," Green said.

"Who?"

"Rey."

"Are you serious?"

"Lennie, he's got the motive.  Two motives, actually.  For one, he and his family stand to get a hell of a lot of money, relatively speaking, from his mother's insurance.  And his family's not doing good at all.  They could use the cash, just to get them back on their feet money-wise and take off some of the pressure.  He's also under too much stress to take on the care of one more sick relative, that's the second motive.  We've been interviewing neighbours, teachers... even the precinct where he works.  And it's not a pretty picture."

"What do you mean?"

Green took out his notebook.

"Did you know his daughter Serena was arrested for dealing cocaine at her school?"

"Serena?  The ten-year old?!"

"Well, her school's right next to a high school, and some little entrepreneur decided to try to use the elementary kids to move his stuff.  Serena was one of them.  Apparently she's become quite the little problem child, but in this case it seems she wanted to help out the family financially and figured this was a good way to do it."  Briscoe shook his head in dismay.  "Rey had to keep her at home for months after that, as part of her conditions for release, otherwise she would have been in a juvenile detention centre.  She's also been suspended three times for fighting with the other kids."  Green paused for a moment, flipping through his notebook.

"The neighbours say they've heard a lot of fights between Rey and his wife, just yelling and stuff, but pretty frequent.  And they've seen him slap or spank his daughters when they misbehave.  Nothing to warrant charges of child abuse, but in this day and age a parent who's slapping in public is probably doing a lot more in private."

"Not Rey," Briscoe broke in.  "He couldn't hurt his kids, Ed.  He loves them."

"Yeah, well, then there's Rey himself.  I talked to his lieutenant, who told us he was just fine.  Pressed a little, and found out he's been withdrawn, derelict in his duties, screwed up a few times.  Pressed a little harder, and found out he also tested positive for marijuana on the day that the precinct had a surprise random drug test."

"Rey?!"

"Rey.  A civil rights group challenged the whole drug test issue almost right away and everybody's test results were thrown out.  None of it made it into anybody's official record, but still.  I noticed the day his mother died that his eyes were bloodshot when he came in, and he smelled like weed.  I thought at the time that he was just around it at the bar, but we know now he wasn't at the bar that long.  His lady friend, Rita Johannes, says he got it from her.  This is not good.  He's a cop, he should know better."

Briscoe leaned back in his chair, not knowing how to reconcile any of this with the man he thought he knew.  "This is all circumstantial though."

"Yeah, I know.  But the fact is, the old lady died from a drug overdose, from a drug she had no reason to have in her apartment, plus the reaction of that drug with alcohol.  And the fact is, she didn't drink and the drug was something Rey and his family would have had.  There's only three ways she could have had that overdose.  She could have killed herself, which doesn't seem likely since she wasn't depressed, hadn't talked to anybody about killing herself, and she was very devout.  She could have made a mistake, which again isn't likely because she would've had to make several mistakes and she just wasn't that confused.  Or somebody killed her.  And Rey had the motive, the means and the opportunity."

"What about the woman he slept with?  What did she say?"

"She said they met at about 8pm, went back to her place at about 8:30, had sex, smoked up, then he left around 10.  He says he doesn't remember when he left, just says he wandered around for a few hours.  Nobody saw him.  He could've gone to his mother's home in that time."

"And done what?  Force-fed his mother booze and MS drugs until she passed out?  Come on.  That doesn't make sense either."

"No, but there was quite a bit of food in her stomach.  He could have made her dinner, put the medication in it, gotten her to drink somehow, and there you go.  She was alive until about midnight.  That's plenty of time."

"Jesus."

"We're talking to their priest next.  Father Morelli."

===

Thursday, October 2
6:02pm

Briscoe found himself back at Curtis's apartment building.  Curtis was in the laundry room and they talked as they worked, Briscoe sorting the clothes and Curtis quickly folding piles and piles of shirts, socks, pants, dresses and underwear.  Briscoe knew that he wasn't supposed to discuss an ongoing investigation with a potential suspect, but needed to know what was going on for his own peace of mind.

They made small talk for a while, which was a little difficult since Curtis hadn't kept up with sports or movies in the last few years and didn't have much to say about his job or family.  Briscoe wound up telling him about some of the more interesting cases he'd worked in the last few years and Curtis listened politely enough but didn't seem terribly into the conversation.  Finally, Briscoe brought up what was on his mind.

"Rey... there's something I wanted to ask you about."

"Yeah."

"You know I'm not working your mother's case, but I've been keeping in touch.  I uh... I know you tested positive for marijuana."

Curtis sighed.  "Yeah, I figured you would."

"Had you... had you been smoking up the day your mother died?  Off the record."

"Off the record?" he snorted. "Lennie, I know it's already on the record.  I'm sure Rita already told your partner."  He set aside a couple of torn pants, then continued folding.  "Yeah.  She had some at her place, and we did some after we, uh... I was pretty wasted when I got home.  I don't really remember much about you guys being there.  Except the kids were awake and that's just about my worst nightmare, being stoned in front of my kids.  Well, second worst nightmare, after my wife finding out about me sleeping around."  He shrugged listlessly. "Guess it's a good time for nightmares to come true or something."

Briscoe was silent, wondering how to phrase his next question.  He finally decided to cut to the chase.

"What's happened to you?  You're not the same guy I partnered with."

"You wanna know what my life is like, now, Lennie?" Curtis put down the dress he was folding and looked at Briscoe directly for the first time.  He chuckled mirthlessly.

"Things have changed a bit.  I work during the day at a job that doesn't mean anything to me and I do a piss-poor job because I just don't have the energy to care.  The only reason I haven't been fired yet is my Lieutenant has pity on me.  Then I get the girls from their babysitter, and I go home.  And then I'm it.  I'm the one to make the dinner, the laundry, the shopping, the cleaning, help with the kid's homework, go to parent-teacher interviews, all of it.  And take care of Deborah's medicines and Tania's therapy and all of that.  And I don't get to sit back with a beer and watch sports on TV because we can't afford beer and we can't afford cable - all our money goes to the babysitters and the nurse and the medication for Tania and Deborah.  Then at about 9 I put the girls to bed, spend half an hour with Deborah, we pray together, I put her to bed, and then I keep doing housework or some extra work that I take home to make ends meet.  I go to bed around 1 or 2, wake up with the baby a few times, then I get up and do it all again.  And that's it.  I don't have anything else, and it's not gonna get any better.  Secondary-progressive MS doesn't get any better, it just keeps getting worse, and Deborah's already pretty bad.  And Tania's not going to improve much either.  Some days I wish it was all over or that there was something else to look forward to.  But there isn't."  He stopped and took a breath.  It looked like he wasn't used to talking much any more and seemed surprised to still be speaking.  He picked up another small pair of pants, getting back into the rhythm of folding the clothing.

"You know, the crazy thing is I'm still in love with Deborah.  Her mind's still there, just her body's breaking down.  You know she can't even really feed herself any more, or... or go to the washroom by herself, or anything.  We haven't been... we haven't been intimate in years.  We're more like room-mates.  We fight a lot.  But... she's my best friend.  And I, I still dream about her at night, about - about being with her-" he stumbled to a stop again and swallowed hard.  Then he shook his head and started again.

"Once a month, my sister takes the house for one night so I can go out and be a regular person.  I get to go out to a bar, be by myself without five people depending on me for everything, maybe even forget what's going on in my life.  And... and... I get the chance to... to feel like a man again," his voice became rough and he cleared his throat. "Deborah... she's still... I wish she could, but she can't and, and I wish I was stronger, but..." he finally fell silent, then started putting the folded clothing into the baskets.

"Hey.  Partner, why didn't you tell me about any of this?"

Curtis withdrew as quickly as he had opened up.  He shot Briscoe a quick, hard look and answered, "What was I supposed to say?  Hey, Lennie, haven't seen you in a while, oh by the way my life's falling apart, wanna go shoot some pool?" Curtis stood up with the baskets and said "I have to go put this stuff away."

Briscoe followed Curtis up the stairs to his apartment and waited in the living room.  Curtis came back and sat down with the clothing he'd set aside, picking up a needle and thread.  Briscoe watched in silence as he quickly and efficiently mended the ripped pants.  He finally said, "It's not looking too good.  I know I'm not breaking protocol by telling you that.  You were a detective, you know what's going on."

Curtis sighed again.  "Look, I'm guilty of lots of stuff.  Adultery, doing drugs, going to the bar and drinking away money that should've gone to my kids... yelling at them and slapping them when they weren't doing anything that bad, just 'cause I was too tired and upset to think straight and be patient.  But I didn't kill my mother."

Briscoe nodded.  "I believe you.  I'm here, OK?  You and Deborah took care of me when my daughter was killed.  I don't think I woulda gotten through that without you.  Let me help."

The doorbell rang.  Olivia ran out to get it, and the baby wailed as she was woken up from her nap.  Ed Green and his partner on the case, John Colton, stood at the door.  Olivia stared up at them and Curtis stood up slowly.  Green and Colton entered the apartment, and Green glanced at Briscoe.  He shook his head sadly.

"Mom!" Olivia screamed, and ran down the hallway.  Green approached Curtis.

"Reynaldo Curtis, you are under arrest for the murder of Estela Curtis.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you do say can and will be held against you in a court of law.  You have the right to an attorney.  If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the State.  Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

Olivia had pushed Deborah's wheelchair to the entrance to the living room.  Serena had also appeared, holding the baby, with Isabel peeking out from behind her.  Deborah covered her mouth with her hands as she looked at her husband.  Curtis stared down at the floor expressionlessly and held out his hands as Green moved to cuff him.

"Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?" Green repeated.

Curtis looked up at his wife and daughters and when he spoke his voice was husky and subdued.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I understand."

He was led away in cuffs.

===

Author's Note: This story was inspired by the episode 'Burden', where a brain-damaged quadriplegic boy dies and the family is suspected of killing him because he had become a burden to them.  There's a scene  (quoted at the beginning of the story) where Curtis is interrogating the victim's father, playing 'Good Cop'.  Although he's saying and doing whatever he can to get the suspect to confess, after the suspect is arrested and led away there is a close-up of his face that's heartbreaking.  It made me wonder what Rey's own family situation would be like as his wife's illness progressed.

By the way, while the Spanish in the story is grammatically correct, it's probably not the actual dialect that Rey and his family would use.  I'm Chilean, and I'm not sure what Rey is but I am pretty sure he's not Chilean.  So some of the vocabulary and syntax might be a little different.

For those obsessive enough to need to know, when Curtis talked to his daughters in Spanish this is what he said:

"Serena, abra la puerta por favor."  A child's voice answered, unintelligible. "Abrela!" Rey's voice snapped.
"Serena, open the door please."... "Open it!"

"No, Tania, stop it, I have to get the glass off the floor - dejate - mierda!" he exclaimed, exasperated, as he tried to handle the broom and dustpan and the struggling child.
"... Stop it - shit!"  (I'm sure that last is probably one of the few Spanish words most non-Hispanics would know :)

Curtis sighed wearily.  "Vayase por favor.  Serena necesita ayuda con sus tareas."
"Go, please.  Serena needs help with her homework."

"Olivia, vayase por favor."
"Olivia, go, please."

"Olivia!  Adentro, ahora!" the baby in Rey's arms started at his sharp tone and started to whimper.  He automatically cradled and soothed her, looking at Olivia pleadingly. "Vayase, hablamos mas tarde, ya?"
"Olivia, go inside, now!" ...  "Go, we'll talk later, OK?"

Curtis called out into the small hallway, "Niñas!  Vengan!"
"Girls!  Come!"