Blue Justice - Thomas Anthony - Страница 1
- 1/26
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Twist of Justice
Chapter One
Chief Dexter Pate loosened his tie, brown with pink and green psychedelic swirls, and leaned back in his chair. Captain Davis scribbled on his notepad as Pate asked me questions. I was thinking about that tie. Pate must have bought it in the 1970s and still thought it was hip.
“Detective Jackson, did you punch the Assistant District Attorney Dave Robinson in the face in court today?”
I didn’t answer right away. Captain Davis never looked up at me. He just kept writing. The chief was waiting for my answer. I held him out a little bit longer. The captain looked at me.
“Jared, I want to remind you that you can answer these questions. And please be truthful. This is not a criminal procedure but an administrative procedure. You have already been read the Garrity Rights and you waived them. Now I am only going to ask one more time. Did you…”
“Yes, sir! I punched him in his face and it felt good doing it. I mean, C’mon! He just let a pedophile go free because he didn’t use the evidence I presented.” Both of them stared at me.
“Okay! Chief, I apologize--but I worked by butt off trying to nail that guy and put him in prison where he belongs. But now, instead of him making car tags, he is coloring books and planting tulips at Bryce Mental Hospital.”
Chief Pate sat up in straight in his chair. “Detective Jackson, you do understand that you can be terminated for this type of behavior, correct?”
I looked him in the eye and nodded. I never liked him anyway. Since he threw his hat in the ring to run for Sheriff, he had been unbearable. He micromanaged everybody. He was bad enough before, but now it was backfiring on him. Everybody felt it. Arrogant wasn’t the word. Self-satisfied was more like it.
“Yes sir,” I replied.
“OK! I’m going to review all of this—including your personnel folder—and make my decision tomorrow. In the meantime, you can try and influence my decision by impressing your chain of command tonight by going over to Judge Middlebrooks’. He wanted to talk with you as well. He is expecting you to show up at 9:00 PM sharp. And remember, anything else tonight and you will be looking for another job.”
I got up and walked out. I was glad to get out of that office. I still had my badge and gun but tomorrow might be different. I really didn’t care anymore. I decided I would go home and run on the treadmill and throw the free weights around to burn off steam before going to see the judge.
I’d wanted to go private investigator for about a year now. My last partner had quit the force and started a little agency. He asked me to join him many times when we talked over my frustrations, but I always said, “Not right now, but soon.”
This night, I believed soon was finally here. I’m 43, 6’3 and weigh 255. Maybe it is time to get out of politics. Yes, I said politics. After all, that is what policing has come to. Hasn’t it?
I checked out a mirror. Some people say I look like Terry Crews, the actor and former defensive end. After all, I had played football too. Maybe I could bust into the Hollywood scene. Nah--I loved being a cop. It was just that lately it was starting to disgust me on many levels. Well, the Chief would solve that problem for me tomorrow if he decided to fire me.
* * *
On my drive to Judge Middlebrooks’ house, I called my girlfriend Charlotte and left a message that I would call her later tonight when I was done meeting with the judge.
I let my window down at nose level to allow fresh air to circulate and restore my energy. The air was moist but cool with drizzles of rain pelting the windshield. It was dark. There was nothing around me but this shiny wet two-lane highway and a yellow right curve road sign.
POW!!
That was a gunshot! I jumped in my seat. I stopped my car in the middle of the road. I didn’t know where that shot came from but I wasn’t about to just drive up on whoever was shooting. Was someone hunting--at this time of night? I saw a clearing up ahead just before the curve and pulled off the road unto it. But, it sounded almost like a firecracker. I hoped that it was, but my better instinct said no. I had an uneasy feeling in my gut. I knew it was a gunshot. I served 10 years in the Army with the 5th Special Forces Group and had been a police officer now for close to 8 years and it was no doubt in my mind. That was definitely a gunshot.
I grabbed my Glock .45 from the console and racked a round in the chamber. Wherever that shot came from, I wanted to be ready.
I let my driver window down further to listen and stay watchful of anything that didn’t look friendly. I eased my car back on the road. Just as I negotiated the curve, I saw a car pulled off to the side of the road with the lights off. I stopped. I didn’t want to get any closer until I knew for sure that someone knew my location in case I needed backup. I called 911 and gave the dispatcher my name and badge number, and a brief description of the car from what I could see in the dark from about 500 feet and I told the person on the line about the gunshot and that I was on Alabama route 298, west of Highway 11.
“10-4 Detective Jackson, units have been dispatched to your location, be safe,” she replied. I hung up, and pulled onto the side of the road and shut my car off and took the keys out of the ignition. I clenched my .45 and grabbed my badge from the sun visor. I got out of the car slowly and left the door ajar. Fortunately had I turned the headlamps off before getting out. I didn’t want to be seen as an easy target in case the person who fired the shot was still around.
I eased my way up to the black Mercedes Benz, looking through the windows as I made my way up to the driver side door. To my surprise, nobody was there. I heard rustling somewhere, an animal escaping into the darkness. Then I realized someone was getting away! I quickly moved around to the other side of the car and just as I stepped off into the grass, I tripped over a body on the ground. I now knew why I heard a gunshot. I quickly got up but it was quiet. No more rustling, no bugs making noise, and no scared animals running. All was quiet and I knew better than to go off in a blind search in the dark.
I stayed low near the car so that I wouldn’t be in silhouette. I took a close look at the person lying on the ground. She was probably in her 40’s, blonde, and from the gold bracelet and diamond rings she was wearing, she appeared to be one of those rich white ladies who spend their waking hours shopping and reading fashion magazines.
I pulled out my cell phone to call 911 again. I paused when I saw amber lights in the distance. As they got closer, I examined the scene again, mentally taking in every detail I could before it became swamped with crime scene units and the news media I’m sure had their sources as well.
I walked to the other side of the car and realized I didn’t have a flashlight on me. I quickly holstered my gun and held my hands out with my badge facing the headlights of the patrol car. Ferguson, Missouri, and Baltimore were still fresh on a lot of people’s minds. Everybody was mad about cops shooting black people and I hoped that had nothing to do with this. Some white nut might want to turn the tide by taking out a black cop just for good measure. The patrol car stopped and two young white officers got out with their guns drawn. I tensed up.
“I’m a police officer, here is my badge.”
The first officer looked at my badge and ID and recognized me. “Detective Jackson,” he sighed and holstered his weapon. He turned and faced the other officer, “He’s one of us!”
The other officer holstered his weapon and walked up closer to his partner and me. I was glad to see it was Chad Caddis, an officer I trained when he was a rookie. Chad introduced me to the other officer, a serious-looking kid with straight brown hair and brown eyes. We shook hands and quickly got back to business.
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