The Sharpest Lives

“Brent Russell, It’s been a long time since I had the pleasure of having a case with the likes of you.” A stern, sarcastic voice answered the phone.
“That’s kind of an overstatement, Richard, don’t you think?” Brent replied, already annoyed.
“What, didn’t you miss me? Our cases are always exciting, you must admit. Calling to invite me out for drinks?” Richard retorted.
“Cut the bullshit, Richard, you know why I’m calling. Mind telling me why your client, who has a no contact order by the way, is harassing my clients with threatening letters?” He spat.
“Oh cry me a river.” Richard laughed. “My client sent his boyfriend a letter, big deal. It was hardly threatening.”
“Boyfriend? Are we talking about the same case here? He threatened my client, shot his actual boyfriend and nearly beat his brother to death and you think love letters snuck out of prison are acceptable!?” Brent was furious, nearly yelling into the phone.
Richard laughed boisterously “Brent, really, it was harmless. I saw a copy of it after you turned it in to the judge. Seemed pretty innocent to me. Sounds like Frank came after him and he had no choice but to shoot him based on my conversations with him.”
“The bullet entered from the back, you pompous shit-stain! You’re not seriously trying to play the self-defense card here?” Brent put his hand on his forehead, squeezing the skin on the bridge of his nose. He knew Richard was just trying to irritate him, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to actually use that as a defense, but he was not in the mood for mind games.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. We’ll see at the briefing on Monday won’t we?” Richard responded coolly.
“We will. In the meantime, keep your client in check. I don’t want any more threatening mail going to my client’s, or we will take this to federal.” Brent shouted and slammed down the phone.
“Motherfucker.” He mumbled to himself, putting his head in his hands.
“Everything OK in here?” A mousy voice questioned.
“Yeah, fine. Thanks.” Brent mumbled, and his assistant was on his way back out the door.

Gerard was sitting at the kitchen table, Saturday morning, with a cup of coffee in front of him. Frank was in the shower getting ready – the two were moving the last few things out of Gerard’s apartment today. Gerard was playing with his ring, twirling it in his fingers, reading the inscription over and over again and feeling his heart flutter each time. He was so lucky to have someone like Frank, especially now, when his life had particularly gone to shit. The briefing was on Monday morning, and although Gerard and Frank didn’t have to attend, they were still anxious. Brent was attending on their behalf, as was Bert’s lawyer on his. This is where they would get the details of the case out in the open, and ask any pressing questions before they began the jury selection. Frank and Gerard agreed not to talk about the case until after the briefing, because until that point they would only dwell on the what-if’s – they would have no answers until after that point and there was no use in trying to get blood from a stone, so to speak. But, both men had the same thoughts in their heads, and that was the overwhelming feeling of impending doom. They smiled at each other normally, trying to fake it, but they both could tell that the other was discomforted.
But really, none of it mattered, because now Gerard was moving in with Frank and nothing could hurt him. Bert could go to jail for 50 years or 50 days and Gerard would like to be none the wiser. He just wanted to focus on Frank and work and all their terrible choices in movies and 80’s punk music. He wanted to cut out the world and live in a realm that only consisted of Frank. He would follow Frank to the ends of the earth, on his heels like a dog on a leash and couldn’t imagine being happier to do it.
Frank emerged from the bathroom, in a pair of old jeans that were tattered and torn. He was shirtless, rubbing a towel in his hair. His torso was still wet, making his tattoo’s look fresh and dark black like they were all brand new. He was fucking stunning, in every sense of the word. From the way his hip bones shifted when he moved, to the way he stuck his hands in his pockets with the thumb sticking out. He was beautiful when he was sleeping, his mouth agape slightly, and beautiful when he was lost in the music he played. There was nothing Frank had ever done that Gerard didn’t think was more beautiful than the last.
Frank giggled when he noticed Gerard staring, chewing on his thumbnail like he did when he was thinking. “Like what you see?” Frank turned around, and around again, showing off.
“Very much.” Gerard laughed.
“Good cause these tattoos would be a bitch to get lasered off.” Frank laughed, now sitting in Gerard’s lap.
“Don’t even joke about that, I fucking love your tattoos.” Gerard commented, running his fingers over the swallows on Frank’s hips. Frank shivered at the touch, chuckling.
“I’m starting to think you only like me for my ink.” Frank teased.
“Oh yeah, it’s definitely not because of that hot body or your incredible personality.” Gerard said sarcastically.
“Jerk.” Frank laughed, standing up and going to pour his own cup of coffee in a travel mug. “You ready for this?” He asked, pulling his shirt on in the living room.
“Absolutely.” Gerard smiled and stood up from his chair, putting his coffee cup in the sink.

The last few things that were left in Gerard’s apartment were packed in boxes and were likely things that would stay in boxes. They were the odds and ends, things that he didn’t use every day, or that he didn’t need. The patch job Frank did in the kitchen held fairly well, and when the landlord did the walk through he only stared at it funny for a second before moving on. He left his key on the mantle as they pulled the last box through the door, and looked back at it now empty. It was the first and only apartment he had lived in here in New York. He lived here alone for the first time in his life, away from his family, scared and still healing from Bert’s abuse. Mikey came to live with him a year later, and they spent infinite nights playing Xbox in the living room, laughing and reminiscing about their childhood. Gerard cut himself thousands of times in the bathroom, and cried himself to sleep in the bedroom far too often. It was bittersweet, leaving this place, but he was going somewhere with Frank, and that was better than any shitty New York apartment could ever be. He shut the door with a smile on his face, knowing he would never have to go back to being alone in that apartment.
“I love you, Frankie.” Gerard said, taking Frank’s hand in his as they descended the stairs to the building one last time.
“I love you too, Gee.” He smiled back up at him.

Frank and Gerard both went to work Monday morning hesitantly, but knowing if they stayed home waiting for a call from Brent they would only make themselves more nervous. They needed something to take their minds off of it, and work would be the perfect distraction. Leaving for work from what was now Gerard’s home, too, felt weirdly different, even though he had been staying there for weeks. Something about knowing it was permanent now, made it feel so much sweeter, and maybe that would be enough to get them through the day.

“Gentlemen, please take a seat.” An older grey haired man motioned them into a cold office. There was a large wooden table, the long kind that’s used in board meetings that Brent has seen a hundred times before at these things. He cleared his throat, sitting across from Richard who was pulling papers from a briefcase. He had this permanent grimace on his face, like he was trying not to shit his pants, and Brent just wanted to smack it right off.
Brent had cases with Richard Bosslet before – he was a good attorney, his clients were always pleased with his services. He regularly acted as a defense lawyer for the plainly guilty, and Brent briefly wondered how he slept at night knowing he defended murderers and rapists, and occasionally helped them walk away free men.
“Let’s make this quick, got it? No arguing, no shouting. There will be plenty of that at the trial” The older gentleman asked, receiving nods from both sides.
“Brent, if you could please state your case on behalf of your clients, Gerard Way, Michael Way and Frank Iero. I will then hear the defense from Richard on behalf of Bert McCracken.” He spoke.
“Thank you, your honor.” Brent pulled his own papers forward, shuffling through them and placing one in front of the judge. “On February 18th of 2016, my clients were in Belleville New Jersey visiting family. Mr. Michael Way decided to catch up with friends at a bar on 8th street. The defendant cornered Mr. Michael Way outside the bar he was visiting with friends, without provocation, and proceeded to beat my client mercilessly.”
“Objection! Your honor, he did not beat him mercilessly, the two were involved in a bar fight – certainly not irregular, especially considering the seedy establishment that Mr. Way was frequenting.” Richard interrupted, rolling his eyes.
“Denied, I don’t see how that is relevant. Mr. Bosslet, please let Mr. Russell continue.” The judge waved his hand towards Brent to carry on.
“I’d like to remind you that your client was at this so called “seedy establishment” as well, but I’ll continue…” Brent scowled at Richard. “After beating Mr. Way and turning a gun on him, threatening to kill him, he drove to the residence of Donna way, where Gerard Way and Frank Iero were residing. He encountered both of my clients in the driveway of the home, and began to harass Mr. Way. Your client then punched Mr. Iero in the mouth as he continued to pursue Mr. Way, who continually told him that he was not interested in seeing Mr. McCracken. When my clients turned to leave, not wanting to argue or provoke Mr. McCracken any farther, the defendant pulled out the aforementioned weapon and shot at Mr. Iero. He was struck in the back of the left bicep at a range of about 20 feet. Mr. McCracken then proceeded to leave the scene without calling for help.” Brent shuffled with the papers in his hands. “Your honor, here are the medical records for both Mr. Way who entered the hospital emergency room at 12:18AM on February 19th driven by his friend Jack Barakat, and for Mr. Iero who was taken by ambulance at 1:03AM.”
“Thank you, Mr. Russell. I will add these to the case file. Mr. Bosslet, please state your defense.”
“Thank you. On February 19th my client entered the bar on 8th street around midnight, not intending to start trouble. He encountered Mr. Michael Way, who is the brother of his ex-boyfriend, Gerard Way. Mr. Way and my client began to argue outside of the establishment, where my client defended himself against Mr. Way’s initial attack. From there, he went to Donna Way’s home to confront his ex-boyfriend. Mr. McCracken had been emotionally damaged by the way Mr. Way ended their relationship, and I think it is fair to say that he was not in his right mind when he showed up at the Way residence.”
“Objection, your honor, my client ended the relationship four years earlier; Mr. McCracken obviously knew what his intentions were.” Brent interrupted.
“Sustained, continue.”
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted – my client was emotionally unstable, despite the year the relationship ended. He is undergoing medical evaluation to determine his sanity at this time. I can confidently say that when he turned the weapon on Mr. Iero, his judgment was clearly clouded while in the presence of Mr. Way, someone of whom had caused him great distress.”
“This is ridiculous; he beat my client during the entirety of the relationship and he caused him distress?!” Bert shouted.
“Mr. Russell! I will remind you that you are speaking out of turn.” The judge ordered.
“Yes, your honor. Apologies.” He replied, scrunching his forehead.
“Is there any evidence of the said abuse during the relationship of Mr. McCracken and Mr. Way?” The judge inquired.
“There is just one medical record, from Belleville county memorial hospital on November 28th, 2011 where Mr. Way came in with a broken nose. He told the doctor that he had fallen, but has since revealed to me that Mr. McCracken told him if he was truthful he would kill him. My client felt physically threatened into lying while receiving medical treatment for the broken nose Mr. McCracken caused. My client will be revealing this in his testimony, as well.” Brent replied.
“I find it hard to believe that Mr. Way felt he needed to lie to medical staff, he was nearly as tall as my client and similar build. Surely he could have fought off my client in that situation.” Richard said with a smirk.
“What you do and do not believe is irrelevant, Mr. Bosslet.” The judge interjected. “I believe I have heard quite enough. We will be selecting jury for this case in the coming days. Let’s set a preliminary trial date of Wednesday May 2nd, 2016 at 10AM. This will give us sufficient time to choose a competent jury and allow you to prepare your testimonies. Mr. Bosslet, can you confirm your client’s mental evaluation will be completed by this time?”
“Yes, your honor.” Richard answered, shaking his head.
“Good. Adjourned.” The judge said, taking his papers and leading them out of the room.
Brent rushed out of the office, eager to get away from Richard as quickly as possible. This was going to be one hell of a trial with him on the defense. Brent was optimistic they would win, but under what circumstances he was not sure. He felt he owed it to Gerard and Frank, and even Lindsey, to put Bert away for as long as possible and playing the mentally ill card would make that difficult.

It was about 5:30 when Gerard’s phone rang, he and Frank both knew it would be Brent calling to update them on how the briefing went that morning, but neither of them wanted to answer the phone. They both sat down on the couch and, hesitantly, Gerard pressed “accept”.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Gerard. It’s Brent. Have a few minutes?” He asked.
“Sure.” He nodded.
“Is Frank there with you?”
He is, right here.” Gerard replied.
“Hey Brent.” Frank said.
“Hey guys. Ok, so the briefing went well. Pretty standard stuff and it went as I anticipated. They aren’t claiming self-defense for the shooting, but they do know that Mikey swung first. In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think it will be an issue. We’re going to trial for a shooting, not a bar fight.”
Gerard and Frank let out a collective sigh, relieved that Frank would not have to be defending himself now, too.
“They set a date for May 2nd, at 10AM with a jury. Defense is going to try and convince them that Bert is mentally ill. Who knows how true it is, but the theme here seems to be that Bert was so distressed by you ending the relationship that he went bat shit.” Brent sighed.
“Seriously?” Gerard asked.
“Yeah, basically. They’re going to really question you on the abuse when you take the stand. Are you prepared for that?”
“Guess I’ll have to be.” He mumbled.
“I know it’s hard, but we’ll be prepared. You just need to be honest with them. Can we meet on Wednesday to start outlining our testimonies? Say, 6PM?” Brent glanced at his calendar.
“Yeah that works for us. Thanks again, Brent.” Frank said.
“Of course. See you then.” Brent hung up the phone. Gerard and Frank followed, sitting in silence for a few moments before looking at each other.
“Christ, this is gonna suck, isn’t it?” Gerard asked, smirking at Frank.
“Yep.” Frank replied, taking Gerard into his arms and falling back into a laying position on the couch with his boyfriend on top of him. All he could do right now was stroke his hair and comfort him, and that’s all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. All they needed to do was get through this.

Notes