Darkness the Color of Snow (27 page)

“All right. All opposed, say nay.”

Another chorus of nays.

“Motion carries.”

“For Christ's sake.”

“Don't take the Lord's name in vain, Stanley. I warned that gentleman about language, and I'm warning you.”

“What? You're threatening to throw me out?”

“I hope not. But I will.”

Gordy hangs his head and shakes it. He sees where this is going. The motion to fire Ronny will come up again, and Martin will ram it through. Stan will object that it's not a legal vote, but it would be up to Ronny to take action against the town for lack of due process. He will have neither the money nor the will to do it, unless the union steps up for him. But with a town as small as Lydell, that's unlikely. Gordy catches Pete's eye and motions with his head to leave out the back door. With Ronny.

Gordy looks over at Stan, who's looking grim but determined. He doesn't know how Stan feels about Ronny, though Ronny has been dating his daughter for nearly a year now, and they're generally seen as a ­couple. He guesses that Stan is being the good possible future father-­in-­law, standing up for the boyfriend. But Stan is also one of the good guys, one who believes that things should run according to the rules of reason and compassion. He's the sort Martin Glendenning would like to see run out of government altogether.

Gordy feels an energy growing in the room, and it's not a good energy. There's an agenda that's not on the xeroxed agenda that's been handed out. And that agenda is coming to a point where it will simply gather steam until it's unstoppable. Probably it's already at that point, though he will have to fight as if it has not gotten there yet.

Kyle Withers raises his hand and, without waiting for recognition says, “I would like to make a motion if I may.”

“The council recognizes Kyle Withers.”

“From what I'm hearing, we're dealing here with a bad cop. Maybe not an evil cop, but one who can't control his temper, and maybe can't follow police procedures. Seeing that we're facing a lawsuit, it would seem wise for the town to distance itself as far as it can from this officer. Therefore, I would like to make a motion that we dismiss officer Ronald Forbert from the force.”

“Second.”

“This is preposterous,” Stan says. “This is asinine and malevolent. You just passed a motion to put a member of the council on the investigation, which is, I believe, illegal, and now you're dictating the outcome of the investigation. You can't fire that young man before the investigation is complete. There is such a thing as due process.”

“I believe we can,” Kyle says. “With what we heard on television last night, it's obvious that something went very wrong on Route 417 that night. The longer Officer Forbert is allowed to remain on the force, the more vulnerable the town is to a very expensive legal action.”

“Stan is right,” Gordy says. “This is a clear violation of due process. It's wrongheaded and illegal. There's a police union in this state, and Officer Forbert is a member of that union. You're guaranteeing a lawsuit from the union. One you have no hope of winning.”

“That's right,” Stan says. “We'll be sued, and we'll lose. This is a violation of due process. There is no doubt about that.”

“Due process is unconstitutional,” someone yells.

“Due process is guaranteed by the Constitution. Both the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments contain due process clauses.”

“Then they're unconstitutional.”

“They are the Constitution. They can't be unconstitutional, you moron.”

Gordy takes Stan by the arm and tries to calm him down.

“Stanley,” Martin says. “Please refrain from name-­calling. I believe you're right that this would be a violation of due process. Kyle, would you be willing to retract your motion?”

“And if you're going to use the Constitution, read the damned thing,” Stan says.

“I won't retract it.”

“Kyle, it's a bad motion. Retract it.”

“All right. I retract it. But I still think it's a good idea.”

Art Samuels stands and is recognized. “I understand that it would violate due process to fire Officer Forbert before there is a full investigation. But it wouldn't be a violation to cut his position for budgetary reasons, would it?”

“Budgetary matters are handled at the spring town meeting, not in town council,” Stan says. “To cut an existing budget, you would have to wait until spring, or call an emergency town meeting, which requires thirty days' notice.”

“Is there no other way to cut a budget?”

“No.”

“No way at all?” Martin asks. “I believe there is a clause that allows us to do that in the case of an emergency.”

“But there's no emergency.”

“What constitutes an emergency, Stanley?”

“We would have to consult the town charter for that.”

“Does anyone have a copy of the charter?”

“I have one in my office,” Stan says. “I can report back at the next meeting.”

“I want to get this settled tonight.”

“I have one in my office,” Lois, the town clerk, says. “It's just across the street.”

“We will suspend business for ten minutes,” Martin says, “while the clerk gets a copy of the charter. We will reconvene at seven forty-­five.”

­People begin to stand, looking around and stretching as if they have just woken from sleep and found themselves in an alien place. There's a low murmur of voices that begins to increase in volume. Gordy puts his report back into his briefcase and turns for the door.

“Sorry, Gordy,” Stan Woodridge says. “Can you believe this shit? They'd lynch this kid if they could.”

“I know. It's uglier than I even thought it would be. Thanks for standing up for Ronny. He doesn't have many friends here.”

“Technically, I'm standing up for the law. Sorry. I was trying to avoid letting them know about the emergency clause. I read it today. I'm going to start calling ­people and asking them to get down here. Maybe a show of strength can defeat this, or at least stop it from coming to a vote. We don't need a lot of ­people to keep them from calling the question. It's all illegal, anyway. This is just a cluster-­fuck.”

“That might work. I don't know,” Gordy says. “Excuse me. I need to run back to my office real quick.” On his way, four ­people stop to express their support for him or their disdain for the council.

Ronny looks up when Gordy comes through the door.

“Why are you here?” Gordy asks.

Ronny shakes his head. “I just want to know. I have to know. They're going to fire me.”

Pete looks to Gordy and shakes his head.

“I won't lie to you,” Gordy tells Ronny. “They're trying. But trying and succeeding are two different things. You should know that Vanessa's father is calling ­people right now, trying to round up enough voices to put a stop to this. He's on your side. We're on your side. And there are lots of other ­people who are, too.”

“There's more that aren't.”

“We've become the enemy,” Pete says. “They resent that our ser­vice isn't free. They don't see what we do for them. They only see that they have to pay us. We're so far below cable TV and Internet porn, they can't even see us anymore.”

“There's a whole new ideology that government, in any form, is an unnecessary evil,” Gordy says. “There's nothing that's looked at without suspicion. Used to be, everyone kind of pulled together. Now it's everyone pulling in separate directions. I've got to get back, but we're not going to let them get away with this.”

Gordy starts across the street. The meeting is set to resume in two minutes, but he sees Stan talking to Lois, crowding her, pushing in, making motions with his hands, and, no doubt, talking fast. Gordy realizes that Stan is stalling for time to get more ­people to the meeting. Already two cars have pulled up.

Back in the hall, Stan goes to Martin. “You're making a big mistake here. You're going to get sued, and I won't be able to help you.”

“If we make a mistake, we'll correct it at the next meeting.”

While Stan and Lois go over the charter, Gordy watches as more ­people file into the room. There are probably half a dozen new ­people. He can't really tell, but he doubts there are enough to stop them from calling the question and voting the motion through.

Finally, Stan addresses the hall. “Lois and I have gone over the charter carefully. It appears that a fiscal emergency occurs when the town council votes that it has occurred. There are no specific circumstances indicated.”

“Thank you, Stanley and Lois,” Martin says. “It would appear that the council will have to vote on whether this is a fiscal emergency. Stan, is there an indication of how this should proceed?”

“No. I guess the council simply proceeds with a motion and a vote based on its infinite wisdom.”

“ ‘Infinite wisdom.' I like that. Will someone on the council please make a motion?”

Sam Colvington offers a motion that the current situation in the Lydell Police Department constitutes a fiscal emergency. That's seconded by Ben Sibilski. There's little discussion. Gene Fuller calls the motion and the very idea of it a travesty. The council votes, and the motion is passed five to two. Ben Sibilski asks that the town clerk be instructed to read the minutes of the meeting so far, so any new ­people can be caught up on the proceedings. The request is granted and Lois reads two and a half pages of notes.

“Now,” Martin says. “Do we have a motion on an action to be taken to relieve the town in this fiscal emergency?”

Sam Colvington makes a motion that the town immediately release Officer Ronald Forbert from the force. It is seconded.

“I would like to make a friendly amendment to the motion,” Martin says. “I don't think it's a good idea for the council to be dictating to the police department on personnel issues. I would like to amend the motion to request the chief of police to reduce his staff by one person. It will be his decision as to who will be released.”

“Second,” Sam says.

“No. First you have to say whether the amendment is acceptable to you.”

“Of course it's acceptable. I just seconded it.”

“Just say it.”

“Acceptable.”

“Now it can be seconded.”

“Second.”

“Thank you. Discussion?”

“It will be Chief Hawkins's decision?”

“It will be, as it should.”

“I would rather do that than tell the chief who he has to let go.”

“Just to clarify things,” Stan says. “This is no favor to the chief. It's an insult. It allows the council to wash its hands of the whole nasty affair and make the chief do the dirty work. It's a slap in the face. Though I presume that's what you want to do.”

“But it doesn't strip the chief of his authority.”

“Yes it does. It just makes it seem like it doesn't. He has no real choice in this matter.”

“I would like to hear from the chief himself.”

Gordy steps forward. “I don't like it. Not one bit. There is no fiscal crisis that warrants the laying off of any staff from the police department. We're well within our budget for the year. This is completely unnecessary. It will not save the town from a lawsuit. It will, in fact, guarantee a lawsuit. All it does is place blame on a young police officer without even hearing the results of the investigation, which will, certainly, exonerate him. This is plainly and simply an attack on the police department. And yes, if you're going to ask, this does feel very personal to me. If you pass this, you will be doing a grave injustice to a young police officer who carried out his duties as best he could.”

“And that wasn't very well,” someone yells.

“Thank you for your thoughts on the matter, Chief. I'm sure the council will give your concerns adequate consideration. Is there more discussion?”

An old man rises. “I'm James Archer from Plain Mills Road. I have lived in Lydell my entire life, and that's a long time. I'm eighty years old. And I support the police department and our chief. Gordon is a good man who runs a fine department. In your hearts, you know that. If Gordon says something is so, I think something is so. And I can't, for the life of me, understand why everyone is so ready to insult him. I live pretty much on Social Security, and that means I don't have a lot of money. But I pay my taxes. I pay them like everyone else, because I use the ser­vices of the town, and that includes the police department. I believe in paying for what I get. Why do you all believe that the good things of Lydell are too expensive and need to be done away with? I know you spend a lot of money on your computers and your phones and your fancy cars and motorcycles and boats and such. But are those things worth more than your safety, the education of our children? Are they so important you will steal money from the ­people who keep you safe? I don't understand this at all. I really don't. That's all I have to say, except I'm ashamed of what's going on here.”

“If there's no further discussion, I would like to proceed to a vote. It's getting late here.”

A man Gordy doesn't recognize stands and says, “I hope everyone pays close attention to what's going on here and remembers it on Election Day.”

“All those in favor of the motion to direct the police chief to reduce his staff by one please say aye.”

There are the same five ayes.

“The motion is carried.”

“Chief Hawkins, the council directs you to reduce your staff by one by the end of next week.”

“Great,” Gordy says. “Just in time for Christmas.”

“Do I have a motion to adjourn?”

“Moved.”

“Second.”

“The motion has been moved and seconded. This meeting is adjourned.”

A
S ­PEOPLE LEAVE
the hall, Gordy stands in the rear. He wants to leave, but to just walk out feels like further defeat, and he's had enough. It had occurred to him that the council might try to scapegoat Ronny Forbert, but he hadn't expected anything like this. The treachery and cowardice of Martin Glendenning never fails to surprise him.