The Devil's Triumph

He rushed out of the courthouse panting, with his face still pale white from the shock. The rain was soaking his suit as reporters chased him to his SUV. Despite the camera lights and microphones in his face, all he could think about were the words uttered to him just a few moments ago.

“Daughter has been shot... critical condition… Detroit Medical Center.”


He’d gotten the news while cross examining the most famous defendant in the most famous trial in Detroit’s history. He was crossing the Mayor, Kwame M. Kilpatrick. He’d tried and convicted mob bosses, gang leaders, and drug lords. There were always threats but never had someone actually touched him or his daughter.

About eight years ago now, a packaged bomb was sent to his office, but the bomber forgot to connect some wires and it failed to detonate. Just last year someone attempted a drive by. Twenty-seven shots fired and not one managed to even graze the man whom the Detroit News dubbed the city’s Arc Angel. Gabriel had taken all the necessary precautions to protect his daughter; from keeping her in the suburbs to working under the last name Rosales. That’s how he knew it was Kilpatrick. He had the power to get access to that kind of information.

“PROSECUTOR’S DAUGHTER SHOT”, the Free Press had the headline up on their website before Gabriel could even get to the hospital.

Some news crews were already set up at the DMC. They were crowding the entrance of the emergency room, security wouldn’t let them inside. With a police escort Gabriel pulled up to the entrance and got out of the truck. The reporters engulfed him like they were pigeons and he was bread. All of them were shouting over each other.

“Mr. Rosales, is it true that your daughter was shot!?”

“Do the police have any suspects!?”

“Do you believe this is anyhow connected to the trial!?”

“Do you think you’ll be able to continue working the case!?”

“What is your daughter’s status!?”

“Mr. Rosales…!”

“Mr. Rosales…!”

“Mr. Ro…!”

By the time he actually made it into the ER, the scene outside had drawn everyone’s attention inside. Nurses, patients, doctors, people sitting in the lobby, everyone was staring at him. Every TV in the waiting room had the news on showing Gabriel rushing out of the courthouse and arriving at the hospital. You could hear the telecasts through the muffled silence, “Just moments ago district attorney Gabriel Rosales arrived at the Detroit Medical Center…” Not knowing who to question he approached the nurses’ station.

“Where’s my daughter?” Gabriel tried to hide the intensity in his voice, but the nurse looked slightly shaken like he had just screamed at her. Before she could stutter out a response a doctor intervened.

“Mr. Rosales, I’m Dr. Herald. If you’d come with me please.”

They walked down a hallway out of the main emergency room lobby. Gabriel, still wet, was waiting impatiently for his information and getting angry at the same time.

With his teeth clinched he asked again, “Where’s my daughter?”

“Mr. Ro…,” Gabriel felt that the doctor was about to give him one of those lines, one of those politically correct lines that doctors practiced to give family members bad news. He grabbed the doctor by his collar and slammed him into a wall, banging his head into one of those knock-off paintings. Gabriel’s eyes were peered on the doctor like hot coals. Their noses were just inches from touching.

“WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER!?” Gabriel demanded.

“Sh-she’s in surgery,” Dr. Herald stuttered, rubbing the back of his head.

Gabriel released his grip and took a few steps back, realizing he had just lost his cool. He was breathing heavy. “Where was she hit?” he asked in an apologetic tone, while staring at the wall, waiting to hear the worst possible news.

“The bullet entered through her stomach…passed through the cardiac valve and is lodged in the back wall of her heart,” Dr. Herald answered, seeing the despair on this father’s face.

Cardiac valve. Breathing deeply Gabriel leaned back into the wall, put his head down and washed his hands over his face. Cardiac valve. That meant that blood would flow back into the heart. Cardiac valve.

“What room doctor?” Gabriel asked and headed to the operating room.

His heart was pounding. Through the glass he could see his daughter’s closed eyes and the oxygen mask covering half her face. IVs were sticking out of her arms and doctors looked as if they were in a panic. Masked faces with soft blue scrubs were running in and out of the OR. One surgeon was barking at everyone else.

Beep. “God damn it, get that sowed up!”



Beep. “Com’on! Make sure she’s getting oxygen!”





Beep. “Nurse, get me more blood!”









Beep. “Defibrillators! DEFIBRILLATORS!











Beep. ---------------------------------------------



Gabriel saw the line go solid and dropped to his knees. For a second his world froze…There was only the gasp of disbelief.

Gabriel ran into the operating room with remnants of nervous sweat on is brow. He stared at his daughter’s lifeless body as nurses tried to revive her. This Arc Angel was powerless to bring his own daughter’s life back. The mayor killed his daughter. Kilpatrick had killed the Angel. The devil had conquered Gabriel.

No judge would let a DA handle a case in which the defendant is suspected to have been involved with the death of the prosecutor’s daughter. Conflict of interest. Gabriel couldn’t try the case anymore. Didn’t matter though. None of it did. He was going to kill the devil himself.