Chapter Text
Citadel Rules of Professional Conduct
Rule 3.8 - Special Responsibilities of a Prosecutor
"The prosecutor in a criminal case shall:
(a) refrain from prosecuting a charge that the prosecutor knows is not supported by probable cause;
(b) make reasonable efforts to assure that the accused has been advised of the right to, and the procedure for obtaining, counsel and has been given reasonable opportunity to obtain counsel;
(c) not seek to obtain from an unrepresented accused a waiver of important pretrial rights, such as the right to a preliminary hearing; […]"
Garrus slammed the data pad onto the desk in front of him. The detective sitting there jumped.
"So do they not teach detectives what probable cause is these days, or are you just especially stupid?"
"I, uh-"
"Because I'm looking through this trafficking case, really looking, and I just can't seem to find the connection between this defendant and those fifty pounds of sand." He bent down to make sure the detective, a smaller human, could see his disapproval. "And I would love to be sure that you didn't just arrest the first Quarian that you saw in the area."
"He was the only person in the area, sir-"
"Do criminals usually stay at the scene of the crime, detective?"
"Process of elim-"
"So now I've got to get on a call with his lawyer and explain that, 'sorry, we'll drop this charge because our officers racially profiled your client.' Do you think I'll enjoy that conversation?"
"I-"
"Because I won't." He snapped the datapad back up from the desk. The detective flinched as though he expected to be hit with it. "That quarian had better be out of holding by the time I get back to my office, and you had better learn how to answer questions before you bring me a prosecutable case."
With that he stormed out of the bullpen and toward the CA's office. Footsteps rang out behind him, as the detective sprinted to holding.
The quality of C-Sec officers had never been outstanding, but Garrus was particularly unimpressed with this current batch of detectives. In the past year or so, there had been an influx of human officers. They were supposed to be the best of the best from Earth. If that was true, Garrus couldn't imagine earth's worst. He'd had to send back four cases this month because someone had broken the chain of custody, or forgotten to read the suspect their rights, or broken a suspect's bone five minutes before they conveniently confessed. That last one happened twice, with two different officers in two different departments.
Each time he had to dismiss charges, he had to call up their defense attorney to let them know the resolution. And unfortunately, today that meant speaking to Jane Shepard.
As he sat down in his ugly ergonomic chair, his data pad pinged.
Notice of discharge: CID#ZWD857719, Nar Qwib-Qwib, Tez'ik, age 22…..
Garrus let his crest fall onto the data pad. Then he sighed, smoothed the collar of his shirt, and started the holo-call.
"Mr. Vakarian, what a nice surprise." As the holo flickered up, he could see her standing arms crossed, just like she did in every spirits-foresaken interview she did. Behind her he could just barely hear the human detective mumbling apologies. She turned and snapped, "we don't need all this conversation, officer, thank you, bye." Then her attention was back on Garrus. "I see you at least had the decency to spare me a dismissal motion."
"Ms. Shepard, you know I would never bring a case without probable cause."
"Save it, Vakarian. I don't feel like running laps around you today." She said it so breezily, as though she was talking to a child. "Does Mr. Nar Qwib-Qwib have the honor of expecting a subpoena down the line?"
"I don't know for sure yet."
"Great, I'll just stay retained on the matter for now then. You can send that to my office once you have a plan for your case." She waved the tips of her fingers at him. "Busy day now, you understand. Please tell your officers to stop violating civil rights. Bye!" With that she ended the call.
Garrus sunk into his chair. Top ten in his class. Third in his family to work in the Citadel Attorney's office, seventh in his family to become a prosecutor. The first Vakarian to be absolutely obliterated by Jane Shepard. Not one of the firsts he'd wanted.
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By lunch, Garrus was feeling like he was back on his game. He'd reviewed and approved an indictment that one of his clerks had drafted, he filed a Motion re: Probation Violation, and he'd convinced an older volus that they should testify about the financial abuse they'd suffered. Now he was eating the chopped steak salad he'd packed for himself the night before. A good day.
His terminal pinged with a new message.
My office. STAT.
Nevermind.
Garrus snapped the lid back over the top of his lunch and grabbed his datapad of notes. He checked his reflection in the glass door of his office. By his account, he looked spotless; a shining example of the rule of Council law. He was certain that he'd leave the meeting with a pile of paperwork and at least one thing to fix about his appearance. As he passed through the hall, he could feel eyes on him. It was as if everyone knew what message he'd received.
The hall was long, and he was headed straight to the end of it. He took a deep breath, then pushed open the door. "You asked to see me, sir?"
The turian at the desk didn't even bother to raise his eyes from his datapad. Everything in the room, from the desk to the terminal to the man's suit and plates was in some shade of silver or black. Garrus suspected that the man had never worn a color in his life.
"Vakarian, what can you tell me about the Nar Qwib-Qwib case?"
He stood straight as they'd taught him in basic, all those years ago. "We chose to not pursue charges, sir. There wasn't any evidence to suggest he was attached to the sand shipment. Frankly, there wasn't enough evidence for the officers to arrest him."
Saren Arterius finally looked up and met his eyes. "Your tie is crooked." He waited for Garrus to adjust it. "Do you know the race-based crime statistics on the Citadel, Vakarian?"
An insulting question, to the quarian and to Garrus' intelligence. "Those are unreliable, sir. They reflect arrest rates, which can be influenced by officer bias."
"Quarians are disproportionately responsible for bringing sand and other illegal substances onto the Citadel." Arterius hadn't interrupted Garrus, but this continuation was as though he hadn't spoken at all. "Was he interrogated?"
"No, sir."
"Why not?"
"He asserted his right to counsel."
Saren narrowed his eyes, although he didn't blink. Garrus didn't think he could. "So there is a trafficker loose on the Citadel?"
"There already was, it couldn't have been him-"
Saren rose from his chair. The man was massive, nearly a head taller than Garrus. Garrus felt his mandible twitch. "You understand my concern, of course." He did. It was an election year, and drugs were the biggest issue for the average voter. Arterius had a reputation to uphold if he wanted to stay Citadel Attorney. What were silly things like the Rules of Professional Conduct when your title was on the line? "I presume that this won't happen again."
Growing up, Garrus had always wanted to make the galaxy a safer place. Not just for turians, for everyone. He'd pressed his nose into textbooks for years, drank more coffee than water, and lost more than one relationship because this was important.
Garrus stared at his boss. Arterius stared back.
Garrus looked down.
Arterius smiled.
"I'll try my best, sir." He couldn't lift his eyes back up. He stared at the floor.
"Trying isn't doing, Vakarian." Arterius slid back into his chair and sighed with satisfaction. "Now get back out there and remember: we're the wall between chaos and order."
Garrus bolted from the room, his hide crawling under his plates and his talons still adjusting his tie.