Chapter Text
“We the jury hereby find the defendant Richard John Meyers guilty — ”
Liam closed his eyes and released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He felt like a great weight had been lifted off of his chest. Rick Meyers had been found guilty. The evil man who had killed Liam’s parents would be finishing his days in a federal penitentiary cell.
Meyers hadn’t literally killed Liam’s parents, of course, but from Liam’s point of view, he might as well have been the one who pulled the trigger. And in all honesty, in some ways it would’ve been easier if he had. Dad’s years of humiliating decline after he’d become too sick to work anymore; Mom’s fear and frustration over the family’s lack of money, her despair and chronic pain, the value-sized bottle of Tylenol she had used to take her own life; Liam’s own decision, the choice that was no choice at all, really, to quit his job in the city and move back home so that he could take care of Dad full time …
If only Dad had managed to hold on just a little bit longer. Three more weeks was all he would’ve needed. How Dad would’ve loved to have seen the boss get the comeuppance he deserved!
And now the judge was adjourning the court and saying something about the sentencing being held in one week’s time. Liam realized that he’d been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t been listening to the remainder of the proceedings. Ah well, it didn’t matter. Springfield’s own Trial of the Century was over, and justice had been duly served. The rest of it would just be epilogue.
People were gathering their things and making for the exits. The courthouse had been full, full, full; Liam had been incredibly lucky to get a seat. There was a cacophony of happy chatter and gridlock in the aisles. It was a Friday afternoon, and everybody, it seemed, was in a hurry to start their weekends or maybe to grab a drink at the bar to celebrate.
Liam settled back into his chair. Hmph, why not wait a while? He wasn’t in any particular hurry, and what with the gridlock, he wasn’t going anywhere fast even if he wanted to be. What would be the point of trying to fight and elbow his way through the crowd?
At least one other person had exactly the same idea. From the back of the courtroom, where Liam was sitting, he could see a small, dark head in the row near the front that had been reserved for the press. The TV reporters were already outside in front of the cameras, so this one had to be a writer. And sure enough, the presumed journalist was hunched over and scribbling notes into a yellow legal pad balanced on his knees. Idly, Liam wonder which newspaper he worked for.
Eventually, the aisles were more or less clear, and Liam decided that now was the time to make his break for freedom. The presumed journalist had obviously decided the same thing at the same moment, and he and Liam kind of bumped into each other as they both pushed towards the door.
“Oops, sorry,” the presumed journalist muttered distractedly. He was short but very handsome, Liam noted, and probably about Liam’s own age. He was exactly Liam’s type, actually, and he wasn’t even looking at Liam. A shame. But maybe …
“No problem,” Liam replied, trying to sound casual. “Hey, you a journalist? Which paper? The Times? Name’s Liam O’Malley, and you know, I’ve been meaning to thank — ”
The presumed journalist looked up at Liam. His eyes took in Liam’s face and narrowed with an impatience that was more than halfway to hostility already. Jesus, what was with this guy?! Liam wasn’t even trying to hit on him properly. Was he that much of a homophobe? “I’d love to chat, but I have a 6 PM filing deadline,” the presumed journalist said, his voice polite but ice cold. “So … if you’ll excuse me … ”
“Um, sure.” Oh well. Win some, lose some. Liam shrugged, took a half-step back, and allowed the no longer presumed- but definitively-a-journalist to pass ahead of him.
The Workers’ Association had booked a room at Giordano’s, a pizza parlor and popular Friday night hangout situated just down the road from the courthouse. Liam, as O’Malley Sr.’s son, had been invited, and since the mood was likely to be celebratory, given the guilty verdict, as opposed to funereal, as would have been the case had the jury gone in the other direction, Liam decided he might as well show his face there.
Besides, there’d be free pizza and beer on offer, and unfortunately, Liam couldn’t exactly afford to pass up free food.
“Welcome! Are you with the Association party?” the hostess asked Liam as he entered Giordano’s. In response to Liam’s nod, she gestured toward the back of the restaurant and handed him a ticket. “This is good for two drinks at the bar. Pies are over there, so help yourself, ok?”
“Great, thanks.” The familiar smell of garlic, tomato sauce, and cheese filled the air, and Liam’s mouth began to water. He made a beeline for the pizza. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.
The Association VP Jeff Drake was handing out paper plates and napkins. He and Liam exchanged the usual pleasantries as Liam loaded three slices of pepperoni onto his plate. Jeff was the talkative sort, though, and didn’t stop at the usual pleasantries. “Don’t be in a hurry to leave. You should stick around. It’s kind of a last minute thing,” he said, “but we have Felipe Ibarra coming in in a bit to address the membership. You know, Ibarra? From the paper? The one who broke the story about Meyers …?”
“Sure I do.” Liam knew exactly who Jeff was talking about. Ibarra was that Times investigative reporter who’d looked into the string of suspicious cancer cases in Springfield and traced it back to unsafe conditions and toxic chemical exposure in Meyers’s factory — the one Liam’s dad had worked at his entire career. Dad had been one of those “suspicious” cancer cases. In any case, Ibarra was the entire reason Meyers was going to prison. Of course Liam would stick around. He’d been wanting to thank Ibarra personally for ages.
So Liam took his three slices of pizza and two bottles of beer from the bar and found a comfortable, out of the way spot to eat and wait. He wasn’t much for socializing, and most of the crowd gave him a wide berth. To be honest, they weren’t much for being his friends, period, not after he’d moved to the city and come out of the closet …
He didn’t actually see Ibarra arrive, but he wasn’t sure whether or not he was surprised to discover, when Jeff yelled for silence and introduced the man to the room, that Felipe Ibarra was the same handsome, definitively-a-journalist who had pushed past Liam on the way out of the door of the courthouse less than an hour earlier.