ArchivedLogs:Politics and Legal Logic

Politics and Legal Logic
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Steve	2017-01-02 '
Location <NYC> S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters - Interview Room
The room is small, but nicely appointed. The walls are painted a neutral buff color, the furniture light-colored maplewood and upholstered in earth tones. Here and there, little splashes of brighter green trim and edging pop in unexpected places. There is the expected table and straight-backed chairs near the door, though there is a chess board built into the tabletop and neat drawers with chess and checkers pieces along the side. A brown L-shaped couch occupies one corner, bracketing an oval glass-topped coffee table with a matching armchair. Nearby, a sideboard supports an arcane computerized coffee machine as well as a simple pitcher of water on a tray with cups. A wide window admits ample natural light during the day and affords a view of the midtown skyline. All of this notwithstanding, the door locks from the outside and is always guarded. The day after the New Year isn't a particularly kind time to be visiting a government office; many staff are still out on vacation, and the ones who are there aren't likely to be particularly happy about it. That doesn't seem to stop Iolaus, however, striding into the lobby of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters just a few minutes after one in the afternoon and asking, politely but firmly, to speak to Captain Rogers. The conversation with the receptionist goes about as can be expected: no, he doesn't have an appointment; no, he won't leave a message; yes, he'll be happy to wait. The dress shirt, HHS ID, and (expired) WHO laissez-passer are perhaps enough to keep Iolaus from getting physically thrown out of the building, but not quite enough to keep him from getting put into a conference room. A locked conference room. From the outside. Without his wallet, cell phone, briefcase, or any of the IDs he presented. Still, if he's bothered by this, it doesn't show on his face; Iolaus sits with his eyes closed, fingers laced together on his lap, waiting patiently. Iolaus has a while to wait yet, but at long last, the doors open again and Steve walks in. Among the sharp suits of the agents and no-nonsense tactical gear of the security personnel, he is wearing a green, purple, and blue plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans, and combat boots. The shield slung across his back is done up in Christmas colors with a Star of Bethlehem in place of the five-pointed star. "{Good day,} Doctor Saavedro," he greets the man in Spanish, sounding less angry than just confused, and perhaps a touch awkward. "What can I do for you?" He does not sit. Iolaus opens his eyes with the sound of the door, glancing at Steve; the doctor quickly stands to his feet as the other man steps in. "Steve, good afternoon," Iolaus says, in perfectly fluent Spanish. "Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to meet with me so unexpectedly, Captain. I will try not to take up too much of your time." Iolaus glances at Steve's chair, hesitates for a moment, and then sits back down in his own. "I'm afraid that I'm imposing on your time in regards to a personal matter. It seems you have an... old friend of mine in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody that has recently attempted suicide." Iolaus says, carefully. "Jax Holland. Someone you have spoken out quite forcefully in defense of." Steve listens to Iolaus speak, silent. He still does not sit, though he rests his hands on the back of the chair in front of him. At long last, he replies, simply, "Jax is here, yes. As is Ryan Black." "Yes." Iolaus laces his fingers on the table in front of him, pausing for several seconds, watching Steve's face. Ten seconds. Thirty seconds. Finally, Iolaus speaks up again. "I have a few friends left, despite the rather ignominious circumstances of my departure from the mutant advocacy community. I believe one of them may have found an argument that has not yet been used in the courts, and a way that he -- that they -- could be let free." Iolaus adjusts himself in his seat. "It will need your help, however. I don't have the necessary pull any more to be able to get an attorney to assist Jax. At least, not on the record. However, in my briefcase---" Iolaus glances to the floor beside him. "Ah --- which I believe is in the hands of your security staff, there's a set of pleadings to be filed on Jax's behalf. The same should work for Ryan Black as well." The doctor leans forward, voice iron. "I've visited Jax in one too many prisons for my lifetime to see him locked away forever for doing what's /right/. I need your help." Steve remains precisely where he is, though he does rest more of his weight on the chair in front of him. "I know their lawyers," he says quietly. "I can get the documents to them, or put you in contact with them -- whichever would be more practical." "I suspect it will go rather better if my involvement isn't known." Iolaus says, voice tight, back straight enough to do his former security chief proud. "I don't understand all the technicalities myself, but... it seems that pre-trial detention isn't legal if it's punitive, only if it's protective. Since Jax could let himself out of jail any time he wanted, it's illegal to hold him without trial." The doctor pauses, pursing his lips. "Apparently the argument was quite convincing, though I admit, it doesn't make much sense to me. I'll call in a favor or two as best as I can." Iolaus' eyes flick over Steve's face, carefully examining him as if Steve was a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. Steve frowns slightly. "I cannot say that the criminal justice system makes much sense to me in general, especially not now." He allows a small sigh. "Honestly, I think their case is more /political/ than anything else, and I do not know to what extent any level of legal logic will affect their continued detention. But if you have reason to think this will help, I will deliver it to his attorneys and let them sort it out." He straightens up again, squares his shoulder. His expression is blank, but their is pain in his pale blue eyes. "{Thank you,}" soft, quiet, in French. "I believe you are quite correct. Politics are written all over this. Still, if my brief career in the political sphere taught me anything, it's that politics, like bacteria, has a way of breaking down when put under a bright enough spotlight." Iolaus stands up, reaching out his hand towards the other man. "Captain. It's my pleasure," Iolaus responds, eyes gentled with sympathy. "Doctor." Steve hesitates only a beat before taking the proffered hand and shaking it. "I wish I could say the same."