Transplanted Life
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Well, Carter and I went to the courthouse yesterday to see Dmitri enter a "Guilty" plea. Guilty of manslaughter, attempted murder, kidnapping, possession of one or more controlled substances... They threw the book at him, and the strange thing is, he didn't do anything to get out of the book's way. I can't help but wonder about that. What could his motivations be? Carter and I spent the last couple of days puzzling it out, and we came up with a few, but none sound right:

1. Fear; I don't think Dmitri has the expertise on his own to create a mechanism to do what happened to us, which means whoever did probably still has the means to use it. Maybe he figures prison's the safest place for him.

2. The opposite; he's got some plan to switch with someone else and he figures that prison would be a safer place to stow his body than, say, a self-storage unit. Sure, whoever got swapped into his body might complain, especially since it's likely to be a woman (every switch-up I know of happened across gender lines), but the guards might dismiss it as Dmitri faking being nuts, and maybe stick him in solitary.

3. Protecting Andrei? Maybe by pleading guilty he figures he removes any leverage the government has in terms of finding his father in my body. Not just because he won't be tempted to rat him out, but it makes it harder for daddy to contact him, since the FBI would have him under surveilence even if he weren't in custody.

4. Cover-up. Everyone sees the government lock Dmitri up and throw away the key, and then he's stuck in witness protection or something, given a new name (at least!), and put to work. The feds get their hands on the technology to do the whole mix-and-match bodies thing, or the love potion - don't forget the goddamned love potion - but can tell Carter, me, Mr. Kraft, Maggie, anyone who knows that the investigation has reached a dead end.

Maybe I'm just being paranoid. It's easy to be paranoid; even if I figure I'm getting the short end of the stick, it's at least somewhat reassuring to think there's some kind of order to it. That someone's in control of the situation, and if I can just figure out who, I can somehow steer this thing.

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