In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad, known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.
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U.S. District Court
225 Cadman Plaza E.
Brooklyn, NY 11201
September 15, 2020
"Order in the court...ORDER!"
"Goddamnit," she thinks. "My stripper cop costume shrunk in the dryer, riding up my crotch causing camel toe. A shiny, black PVC hat presses into my skull."
The room becomes silent.
"Your honor, if I may proceed..." The prosecuting attorney regains the rooms attention. "I would like to call to the stand, the defendant, Scooter Scally-Wag."
A smut peddler and habitual offender, the owner and operator of Hubburb’s Cum-torium—the XXX gateway for dorks—twice acquitted, Scooter was a shameful nerd-fetishist on the brink.
It wasn’t the dusty hordes of obscure ‘90s Hentai VHS tapes or the carefully crafted Bronie fan-fiction ‘zines, which initially triggered the FBI’s finger. It was Mr Scally-Wag’s publicized sexual preference for...homely...cartoon characters. The most gruesome imagery involved The Mystery Gang themselves—Scooby-Fuckin’-Doo.
Ice T predatorily stares at the defendant, while Olivia Benson eye-fucks the camera with a convincing, serious gaze. The former rapper turns to his female partner and says, "I haven’t seen a crime this sick and twisted since way back in the way-back. In the projects, we call this ‘the junkyard slobber.’ It’s when a ‘manager’ falls for his ugly hoe, letting her turn him into a freak daddy."
The police raided the Cum-torium, like raccoons rifling through years of Mr Scally-Wag’s inventory. In beams of grimy window light, they threw odd sex toys and cheesecake porn all over the basement floor, until they uncovered the sinister Scooby Doo filth.
The officers winced at photographs of Velma’s crusty beaver—pools of vomit forming at their feet. Hacking into Scooter’s laptop, they discovered a video featuring microscopic footage—a PTSD-inducing vignette of the aging hipster’s gaping butthole, filled to the brim with scabies. Disgusted, the FBI vowed to take Scooter Scally-Wag down. After mind numbing deliberation, an agreement was reached and the case settled out of court.
The FBI continued to poke and prod. Scooter was forever on their shit list and the FBI eventually busted him with Daph-crimination.
In this deplorable form of bigotry, the guilty party assumes ride-or-die Daphne is an overrated bitch, like Mr. Withers’ Amusement Park on the 4th Of July, thereby leaving socially inept Velma as the show’s crown jewel.
The Daph-crimination charges were met with eye rolls from the skeptical jury. Again, Scooter was set free.
Finally, the government agency whipped up substantial allegations—cartoon porn as intellectual property theft.
Ice T ruminates, "I’ve seen many fools wrecked in the streets, preoccupied with intellectual property theft. These young bucks always forget to cover their iCloud tracks. OG bangers call it ‘noggin’ sprang-a-lick.’ It’s an illicit act, which guarantees a revolving door from the block to the pen."
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"Your honor, investigators have uncovered new evidence of actus reus. The defendant, Scooter Scally-Wag, is in violation of intellectual property laws. This huckster’s abuse of process exploits cartoon characters for economic gain. The court will see with due process, Mr Scally-Wag’s motis operandi proves beyond a reasonable doubt, the sick, twisted nature of his mind."
"Does the prosecution expect me to use admonition for evidence, to take punitive matters? The prior cases were settled out of court. Their evidence is inadmissible in this proceeding."
Horrible taste isn’t a crime—everyone knows this. I gaze at Olivia’s orange pantsuit. She sits smugly, drowning the memories of her third divorce with Sweet-And-Low coffee.
"No, your honor. The defense has built a new case, focused solely on aforesaid allegations. The prejudicial effects of this testimony in no way outweigh its probative value."
"And, what is the defense’s response to this addendum?"
"Thank you, your honor. The prosecution has made no attempt to provide the court with substantial evidence today. Their defense reveals a common scheme of slander—it simply demonstrates my client’s propensity to behave badly and exposes anterior motive. Scooter Scally-Wag was found innocent by a jury of his peers. Nerd Fetishism is not a crime, your honor, and, frankly, I question the FBI’s need to waste time and money on cases they can never win."
Criss-crossing my legs, the cheap, polyester blend of my costume shows me who’s boss. I am definitely getting a yeast in-FUCK-tion.
I look over my shoulder, the stand is empty.
"Where did Scooter go?"
A high-pitched, baby stripper voice calls out from the crowd, "He’s smoking weed."
F.M.L.
"Court adjourned."
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Brooklyn Bridge Park
334 Furman St.
Brooklyn, NY 11201
August 16, 2020
"Thanks for meeting us here on such short notice." The detectives huddle together for warmth, not sure what to expect from the flighty defendant.
Ice continues, "That was some stunt you pulled today in court."
Dark synths play in the background, Scooter begins, "Yeah, well..."
Ice steals the spotlight, per usual. "Look man, Velma is just another tweaker who can’t put her pipe down long enough to get Lasik. She was picked up again last night, hustling in the Bowery. The police offered her a plea bargain to testify against you. Velma is a loose cannon."
Scooter looks bored. "That hall monitor bolts the second the scene becomes erratic, like Karen in a ghost pepper Muckbang. I’m not worried about Velma."
The former pimp retorts. "You gotta understand the Old Testament. A bird is a cat and a cat is a bird. It’s the yin and yang that makes the world turn. In the Bronx, a genuine mack never forgets—keeping their sharp claws in a canary won’t last. Known as the ‘trick-a-dee shank,’ this peacock in the me-cock can blind a tiger for life. Leaving him feral at the FBI’s doorstep."
Olivia lays it on thick. "So whats this perversion d’jour all about? Dollars and cents? Control?"
Scooter ponders Olivia’s question for a moment, "No. It’s all about the love of the game."
Sick son-of-a...
Olivia dares to yank an unlit cigarette from Scooter’s mouth.
His face changes form, while his cubic zirconia earring catches the key light. Unaware of the armpit puddles dampening his purple shirt, Scooter walks away—pride intact.
"If you want a lovable loser, get on Shaggy’s dick."
Olivia and Ice turn towards each another in dismay.
The answer was hiding in plain sight...behind closed doors, that is.
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U.S. District Court
225 Cadman Plaza E.
Brooklyn, NY 11201
August 17, 2020
Leaking Monistat onto a Maxi-pad, I slam my gavel.
The courtroom fills with people and the air is electric. Nerd fetishism is the spotlight of every news channel, as if COVID never happened.
Ice T and Olivia strike courageous poses in the back of the room, while a sickly pale defense attorney huddles over Scooter, like a mother bird.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I would like to begin today’s proceedings. Does the prosecution have an opening argument?"
"Thank you, your honor. Scooter Scally-Wag is a real-life ‘chicken-or-egg’ scenario. Was he born a classless monger or was he broken by years of sexploitation? Regardless, there is a dark, sinister underbelly at play here. This case is about the exploitation of copywritten material for financial gain. Thank you, your honor."
Scooter Scally-Wag’s attorney stands to face the jury.
"Does society have to agree 100% the time? I can remember when it used to be okay for people to have different opinions—to jerk off to different material. One man’s nerd fetish is another man’s pup play."
"Consider this, ladies and gentleman of the jury...is the prosecution taking things a wee bit personal? These are fictional characters. This case is a no-brainer. It is filled with questionable evidence and has no ethical backbone."
"Today, I will present the jury with new evidence, that will set Mr Scally-Wag free. If I may draw the Jury’s attention to Exhibit A."
Court interns wheel a large dry-erase board into the room, covered with pinup posters. At the top, "Playboy Magazine 1970-2010" is written in sloppy marker. The jury’s eyes widen, bamboozled with T&A.
"What do these images have in common?"
The jury’s faces look exceptionally blank, as they drool over the photographs.
"Do you see the models’ skirts?" The defense attorney points to the minuscule fringe above one girl’s extraordinary fanny. "Plaid."
Absorbing the tiny stretch of fabric clinging to another babes’ monster tits, he asks, "What about this sweater? Do you see this emblem or this stack of books in the corner? Schoolgirls."
A pin drop echos. The jury is trapped in an inter-dimensional waiting room. Frustrated with the empty silence, Scooter’s lawyer flips the dry erase board onto its other side.
With the flip of a switch, a film projector brings to life music video clips from MTV’s better days. Aerosmith’s "Crazy" turns into Billy Idol’s "Cradle of Love," while Alice Cooper’s "Hot For Teacher" belts through large, overhead speakers.
The jury’s heads start to nod, as they regain lucidity.
"As you can see, the schoolgirl theme reached its peak in yesteryear. Venus was born nude. A classic muse...to pump your cum into. Finally, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I give you Exhibit B."
An enormous screen slowly descends from the ceiling.
Pulsating through an overhead projector, Scooter’s lawyer flips through a collection of Scooby Doo imagery. Cherry-picked from Hubburb’s Cum-torium, the photographs tease the viewer—leaving much to the imagination.
"Here is a photograph of Velma wearing a pair of knee socks and the same tiny skirt worn by the school girls in Exhibit A. Here is another image of Velma’s white cotton panties. innocently greeting bystanders. Clearly, the modern day nerd-fetish is simply an adaptation of the classic schoolgirl fetish. Velma in Exhibit B features nothing more than the Jungian archetype. For this reason, charging Scooter Scally-Wag with intellectual property theft is preposterous. No one OWNS a muse. I demand the court to drop the charges, immediately!"
Suddenly, a police officer bursts through the courtroom door, rushing towards the prosecution, handing a messy folder to Scooter’s lawyer. There is a low murmur in the room.
"Order!!! What is this interruption all about?"
"Your honor, the prosecution would like to call Velma to the stand."
The alleged schoolgirl waddles down the aisle, grinding her jaw.
With a one-way ticket to Tijuana in hand, Velma is ready to push Scooter under a bus. She plops down into the witness stand, clicking her dentures in place with her tongue. The glowing prosecuting attorney continues, "Velma please introduce yourself to the court."
With a high-pitched nasally gust, the child star whines, "Hi. I’m Velma. I was an actress on the television show, Scooby Doo."
The woman who appears before the court today is not a librarian or a champion chess player, but a DTF Tinder date—living in a parking lot RV. Velma is a character on a fictional TV show—she is not a reform school prep.
"How did you first meet Scooter Scally-Wag?"
"I responded to an ad on Craigslist. Scooter was hosting live sex shows at the Cum-torium."
"Oh, Mr. Scally-Wag paid you to put on an adult performance?"
"Is that a joke? No! Scooter never pays the talent. He takes 30% of our tips, on top of what he charges customers at the door."
"Could this be justified as an agency fee? Did the defendant spend time and money promoting your event?"
"No. I promoted myself through social media. My fans show up for shit."
"What about all of the photographs of you in Exhibit B...were you paid for those?" "Um...No, those were considered TFP (time for print). WE signed an agreement saying WE could use the photographs however WE wanted."
"Who is the ‘WE’ you are referring to?"
"The photographs were taken by another cartoon actress. The two of us set up the entire shoot. Scooter sat in the corner, drinking scotch and checking his email."
"What does Mr Scally-Wag do besides profit off your existing popularity?"
Scooter screams, veins popping from his forehead. "OH YEAH, RIGHT!!! These Loserville cartoon broads wouldn’t survive without me. They are fugly bitches who don’t know what sexy is. I let them know when they have gained five pounds or that they need to shave. Like anyone wants to see you in real life, Velma, wandering around in a bathrobe, buying Velveeta Cheese with her EBT card."
"Well, I think that about does it. I rest my case."
The jury glares at Scooter, finding him guilty of all intellectual property theft charges, while Velma laughs out loud.
Ice T shakes his head, "A player was warned."
These low-rent SVU hustlers never listen to his prophetic words of wisdom.
The schoolgirl is a siren in the fountain of youth, but Velma is a pregnant girl who takes third place in a Salton Sea bikini contest.
That trailer trash will break your dick—your mind and soul.
Motherfuckers need to start listening to Ice T.
