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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2448 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
- 28
I would like to reiterate that I know nothing about the US justice system. Therefore, I ask your forgiveness for any inaccuracies.
Pacing anxiously around his cell, Tom waited for Trent Matheson to arrive and escort him to general population. He had requested to see Booker so he could speak to him before their preliminary hearing. It had surprised him that Dennis had agreed and it gave him a glimmer of hope that perhaps they could begin to repair their shattered relationship. However, he felt nervous about entering general population after spending so much time on his own and he was terrified that he would suffer a panic attack. The last thing he wanted was Booker witnessing him falling apart.
Walking over to the mirror, he wiped at the sweat that had formed above his upper lip and stared at his reflection. Tortured eyes stared back at him and his pale, drawn face reminded him yet again, of how much his physical appearance had changed in such a short space of time. The black smudges under his sunken eyes were testament to his lack of sleep and no longer did he have the boyish, carefree look that had allowed him to join the elite Jump Street program. He was a shadow of his former self and he wondered if he would ever again be the Tom Hanson of old.
Hearing the sound of footsteps, he quickly wiped away the tears that were glistening in his eyes. Matheson walked into the cell and gave him the once over. “You look like shit Hanson,” the hack sneered at him. “I doubt Booker will find you attractive now.”
Tom lowered his head in embarrassment. “Can we go?” he muttered. “We’ve only got a few minutes before we leave for the courthouse.”
Moving forward, Matheson leaned in close until his face was just inches from Tom’s. “Are you giving me orders Hanson?” he asked in a threatening tone. “Because chances are, you’re going to be back here tonight and I can always arrange for Carlos Martínez to come and tuck you in.”
Clenching his fists, Tom tried to calm his breathing. He could feel the beginnings of a panic attack coursing through his body and perspiration prickled his forehead as tears filled his eyes. “Please,” he gasped as he struggled to control his trembling body. “I just want to see my friend.”
Matheson gave him a disgusted look. “Geez Hanson, how the mighty have fallen. You were once some hotshot cop and now look at you; you’re nothing more than a sniveling crybaby. You make me sick.”
When Tom silently wiped the tears from his eyes, Matheson gave him a withering look. “Come on, I’ll take you to see your boyfriend.”
Although anxious to see Booker, Tom could feel his stress levels rising. Blood pounded in his ears as he followed Matheson through the corridors towards general population. When the security gate slid open and he saw dozens of men moving around the compound, his breathing became rapid and his vision started to blur. He used all of his inner strength to pull himself together and prevent himself from passing out. He ignored the wolf whistles and crude comments as he trailed Matheson up the metal staircase. He was surprised when they turned left instead of right in the direction his old cell. As they approached the last cell, Tom’s blood ran cold; he was standing outside Martínez’s room.
Matheson smirked with amusement. “Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you. Booker bunks with Martínez now. It looks like they’ve become real close.”
Tom’s stomach churned and he struggled to keep down the vomit that rose into his throat. Martínez and Booker were together? Even though Hanson knew that Dennis was out of control, he would never have believed that he would willingly have capitulated to Martínez’s sexual advances. Carlos Martínez was a brutal man who took pleasure from dominating others until he had broken them down to submissive, mindless automatons that he could control and use for his own needs. It frightened Tom to think that Booker had given up the fight, that he had willingly become Martínez’s prag. Dennis Booker had always stood up and fought for what he believed in and now he was nothing more than a sex slave.
Having managed to get his emotions under control, Tom entered the cell. Martínez lay on the top bunk, smiling smugly whilst Booker stood naked at the basin brushing his teeth.
When Dennis showed no sign that he was aware that anyone else was in the room, Matheson spoke up. “Booker, you’ve got a visitor and for God’s sake, put some clothes on.”
Spitting out the toothpaste into the sink, Dennis wiped at his mouth and turned slowly around. His dead eyes showed no emotion when he saw Hanson standing in the open doorway. Walking over to his bed, he pulled on a pair of boxers and jeans before standing obediently at the top of the bunk so Martínez could reach down and stroke his hair. “What are you doing here?” he asked flatly.
“I—” Tom began softly, but his demeanor quickly changed when he saw Booker close his eyes and smile sleepily as Martínez gently played with his hair. “JESUS CHRIST BOOKER, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he yelled in frustration. “Why are you letting this man control you like this?”
Opening his eyes, Booker grinned lazily. “What’s the matter Hanson, are you jealous?” he slurred in a drug-induced voice.
Charging across the room, Tom pulled Booker from Martínez’s touch and slammed him against the opposite wall. “You need to fucking wake up!” he screamed into Dennis’ face. “Don’t let him do this to you! Don’t let him destroy your life!”
“That’s enough Hanson,” Matheson warned and stepping forward, he pulled Tom forcefully away. “Your visit’s over, you can resume your tête-à-tête at the courthouse. Now move it.”
Turning towards Martínez, Tom gave the inmate a scathing look. “At least make sure he’s not high for his court appearance,” he spat. “He needs to be lucid so he knows what’s going on.”
Martínez smiled complacently. “And why would I do that Tommy?” he chuckled. “He’s much more compliant when he’s stoned and that’s the way I like him.”
Tom turned away and stormed out the cell, followed closely by Matheson. However, as he descended the metal stairway, a small smile played over his lips. Martínez may not realize it, but he was not the only one who could manipulate to get what he wanted. Reverse psychology was a wonderful thing and Martínez had taken the bait hook, line and sinker. Tom wanted Booker high on drugs at the hearing because if he were stoned, he would be less likely to object when Tom pleaded guilty. If Booker did not contradict his claim that he had killed Bentley, then his attorney could move to have him released on the grounds that there was no evidence against him.
Tom had only one objective, to get Booker released. He wanted him out of the clutches of the deranged Martínez and if that meant that he had to take Booker’s place, then he was prepared to do it. All he cared about was saving his friend.
**
Judge Benedict James focused his attention on Tom. “If I accept your guilty plea you will be convicted of the crime to which you are pleading guilty today and you will not have a trial. Do you understand?”
Tom cast his eye at Booker, who had remained silent throughout the hearing. “Yes Your Honor, I understand,” he replied quietly.
Judge James sighed heavily. He was surprised that Officer Hanson had entered into a plea bargain when he stood a very good chance of a jury acquitting him during at trial. He studied the young man in front of him and considered his options. He could accept the guilty plea and sentence him for the crime of voluntary manslaughter, which carried a maximum sentence of eleven years. Alternatively, he could reject the plea and suggest that Hanson plead without a negotiated agreement, giving him the option to issue a lighter sentence.
Making his decision, he once again addressed Tom. “Officer Hanson, I hereby reject your plea of guilty of the crime of voluntary manslaughter and hereby suggest that you enter a plea without a negotiated agreement. Do you understand?”
Derek Cameron leaned towards Tom and whispered in his ear. Lifting his head, Tom nodded. “Yes Your Honor and I will agree to enter a plea without a negotiated agreement.”
The judge suppressed a smile. “So noted,” he replied. “Sentencing is a week from today at 11 a.m.” Turning his attention to Booker, he delivered his verdict. “Officer Booker, given the evidence before me, I believe that you played no part in the killing of Rory Arthur Bentley and I hereby dismiss all charges against you. You are free to go.” Tapping his gavel, he stood up. “Court is adjourned.”
Jumping from his seat in the back of the courtroom, Penhall began to yell abuse at Booker. Captain Fuller quickly ushered him from the room before the court bailiff could reprimand him. Pulling himself free from Adam’s hold, Doug could not keep his rage contained. “That SON-OF-A-BITCH!” he yelled. “He raped Tom and he stood there and let him take the fall. I’ll kill him! I’ll fucking kill him!”
Escorting Penhall from the courthouse, Fuller found a bench and motioned for Doug to sit down. Penhall resisted for a moment until he saw the warning look on his superior’s face. Breathing heavily, he took a seat and waited for Fuller to speak.
“Booker didn’t rape Tom and as much as you don’t want to accept the fact Penhall, Hanson’s guilty of manslaughter,” he explained calmly and when Penhall attempted to interrupt him, he waved a warning finger at his young officer. “Let me finish,” he commanded before continuing. “Hanson killed Bentley; I know it and deep down you know it. Tom was lucky, the judge is on his side and he’ll receive a very light sentence. Booker went to jail in an attempt to protect Tom, not to try to frame him. His life has change irrevocably because of his selfless act. You should be thanking him, not threatening him. He should be commended for what he did for Tom.”
Doug lifted his head and gave Fuller a tortured look. “Tom’s going to prison,” he whispered and tears filled his eyes.
Fuller swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat. “I know,” he replied softly. “And it’s our job to stand by him every step of the way.”
**
Arriving back at the jail, Hanson walked silently behind Trent Matheson. As soon as he had entered the building, he felt a tightness around his chest and he struggled to keep his breathing under control as he began to panic. It took all his will to succumb to the strip search and he bit down on his lower lip and closed his eyes as a finger probed deep inside his body. When it was over, he redressed and followed the CO out of the room and down the long corridor. When they passed the entrance leading to the segregation unit, he stopped in confusion. “Hey,” he called out in a shaky voice. “My cell’s down here.”
Matheson turned around and grinned. “Not anymore pretty boy,” he sneered. “You’re back in gen pop and do you want to guess who your new cellmate is?”
All the color drained from Tom’s face and his body began to tremble. “Y-you can’t b-be serious?” he stammered, as his eyes grew wide with fear. “If you put me with Martínez he’ll rape me. Don’t you understand? He’ll fucking rape me!”
“Yeah well, them’s the breaks,” Matheson muttered dispassionately. “If it’s not you it’ll be someone else. Now move your ass, my shift’s about to end.”
Stumbling down the corridor, Hanson could barely breathe. For the next week his nights would be spent locked in a cell with a brutal rapist. Once sentenced, he would enter a state prison and who knew what horrors awaited him there.
**
One week later
Tom awoke to the feeling of light fingers playing with his cock. “Move over,” Martínez breathed against his ear. “I’m horny.”
Hanson had given up fighting days before and he obediently moved across the thin mattress. “That’s my beautiful boy,” Martínez moaned against Tom’s neck as he fondled him through his boxers. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna beg me to let you come. Do you like the sound of that prag?”
Tom’s eyes stared vacantly in front of him. “Yes sir,” he muttered in a barely audible voice.
Martínez laughed. “Good boy,” he wheezed and sitting up, he pulled off Tom’s boxers. “You really are such a pretty little thing,” he moaned as he tugged at Tom’s scrotum and sucked on his nipple. “I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone.”
Hanson remained silent as he felt Martínez bend up his knees and spread open his legs. He flinched slightly when a rough finger entered him and dry lips kissed his mouth. As Martínez’s tongue forced its way between his lips, he tried not to gag; he had done that once and received a severe beating for it. Instead, he used his imagination and pretended that it was Booker kissing him. He had become so proficient at losing himself in the lie that he was often genuinely surprised when the act was over and he opened his eyes to the horror that it was Martínez lying on top of him and not Dennis.
The rough finger withdrew from his body and he felt the tip of Martínez’s erection pressing against him. He knew what Martínez expected of him and taking a deep breath, he uttered the detested phrase, “Please sir, I want you to fuck me.”
Carlos Martínez groaned loudly and rammed his cock deep inside Hanson’s body. As he rocked his hips forward and backwards, he bit viciously into the flesh of Tom’s chest. Hanson remained motionless, not uttering a sound as his cellmate violated his body and mind. Lifting his head, Martínez stared down at him with crazy eyes. “I want you to come prag, do you hear me? I want to hear you scream.”
Closing his eyes, Tom allowed his Booker fantasy to take hold. When Martínez shifted position he let out a moan as the large cock buried deep in his body stimulated his prostate. His cock started to swell and precum leaked from the tip. As Martínez increased his pace, he felt his orgasm rising. He pictured Booker’s face with his long dark hair hanging in his dark eyes and it was that image that pushed him over the edge. With a yell, he ejaculated forcefully over his stomach. He yelled again when Martínez bit down hard on the flesh between his neck and shoulder and semen shot deep inside his body. Turning his head away, he choked back a sob as his fantasy bubble burst and his mind came back to the reality that it was Martínez buried deep inside him and not Booker.
When the Latino’s body finally stopped shuddering, he rolled off Tom and onto the mattress beside him. “I’m gonna miss your tight little ass chico,” he panted. “But I’m sure you’ll find someone to take care of you when you reach the big house.”
Turning to face the wall, Tom allowed silent tears to leak from his eyes. Today was the day he found out his fate. Today was the beginning of the end of his life.
- 26
- 27
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies