"It's not pretty, but it's our legal system. And it works. It's like sausage: no one wants to see it made, and it will eventually destroy your heart, not to mention the sudden weight gain. Put some pants on, America. The Truth is knocking at the door."
Brad clicked the remote for his office flat screen, deleting the bear-hating journalist. It was midnight. Crane and Schmidt had long since gone home. Poole, he could only guess, was somewhere blissfully happy and pantsless.
A decision had to be made. Colbert'd nailed it. Truth and taking the path of right was the love of Brad's life. Was. The leak in the levee started with a small compromise to deceive Willis Berger three months ago. Now it eroded a blatant path to a priests $9,000 door. While truth had been jeopardized, doing what's right kept him sleeping at night. Except. Moot court. Frank Ginsberg. Brad set a course.
The District Attorney's office needed someone who loved the law above all else. But zeal had a way of getting you dirty. Aspirations tended to blind you to the well-defined corners. Enterprise brought the shortcuts into focus. Shore was the devil on his shoulder.
Brad stared through his frosted glass office wall, not seeing the fuzzy shape of the custodian vacuuming. Instead, he saw his past, the sacrifices he'd made for his devotion to the straight and narrow.
He lost the girl. He could count on one hand the number of people at this firm who saw him as a person first. Because he wasn't like Alan, he suffered indignities and dismissive silence.
It didn't matter.
... but it did.
[Cross posted to Theatrical Muse: "What is the greatest sacrifice you've made for love?"]