Finding 52 (22 page)

That was the last time anyone behaved badly at Patriot Park. Word travelled fast and when the park was cleared from that point on, everyone promptly departed. All fourteen offenders either pled guilty or were found guilty by a judge.

Quentin was called to testify against Jared Wilson. Jared took the oath and promised not to fib. Judge Cahill had served on the bench for decades and knew a thing or two about people like Jared. The oath meant nothing to rascals like him and the judge liked policemen. He appreciated what they did and knew a lowlife when he saw one. Jared was in trouble before he even sat down.

He defended himself and his excuse was lame at best. He admitted that he refused to leave the park but argued that he wasn’t drunk. “I’ll tell you, Judge. I think the arresting officer was drunk.” Jared had the bad luck to give Quentin a dirty look, something Judge Cahill didn’t miss.

“I’ve heard enough. You’re guilty as sin. The next time you see Officer Quentin Bunning, you’d better show him the respect he deserves. If he cursed you it’s only because he’s a drill sergeant in the valley of evildoers such as yourself. Apologize to this fine officer immediately!”

“Sorry.”

“You call that an apology? One word? You better rethink your position or else!”

Quentin was having the time of his life as he maintained his hurt puppy dog look. He looked at Jared and within seconds, Jared stood up and spoke to Quentin. “I’m really sorry. I was out of line and should’ve left the park immediately. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Mr. Wilson, you should go and sin no more,” Quentin said.

Jared was immediately relieved until Judge Cahill said, “Not so fast there. This fine officer may forgive you, but I don’t. Thirty days in jail and you better pray you never darken this courtroom again. Do I make myself clear?”

Jared was learning fast. “Yes, you do, your honor. Please know I’ll hold Officer Bunning in the highest possible esteem from this day forward.”

The only other trial involved Reg and Ivan. Reg had handcuffed Curtis Bean for the crime of laying closest to where Reg’s watch was found. The watch would have to be replaced and while the department did reimburse for things damaged on the job, and while the watch could have been replaced with taxpayer dollars, Reg sought justice.

Curtis was aware of how things went for Jared Wilson so he took a different stance. He had the good sense to hire an attorney. The attorney had sanded Curtis down with a list of questions and they went over them together dozens of times before the trial. He even gave Curtis a homework assignment.

“Take these questions home and study them real hard. Think you can do that?”

“Sure.”

The next day he called Curtis to the witness stand to testify. The judge swore him in; a formality that only preceded the lies people told to get out of accepting responsibility for their actions. That and a desire to stay out of jail. Judge Cahill was amused by the serious-looking attorney and the shit-for-brains defendant.

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Curtis Beane.”

“Were you in Patriot Park on the night of July 27th?”

“Yes I was.”

“Please tell the court what happened.”

“I was in the park at midnight when they closed it, and the police beat me up for no good reason.”

Judge Cahill interrupted. “Were you in the park at one minute after midnight?”

“Well, sure.”

“I’ve heard enough. You were in violation of park curfew, which means all of the other stuff was your fault. Do you even have a job?”

“Your honor, may I please ask the defendant some questions?”

“You may not! We’ve already established your client broke the law.” Judge Cahill looked at Curtis. “Well? Do you have a job or not?”

“I’m sorta between jobs.”

“I knew it! Guys like you are a dime a dozen. They walk into this courtroom. MY COURTROOM, on a daily basis and spew their lies. Have you lied to me yet?”

“No sir.”

“You gonna start?”

“No sir. I didn’t do anything wrong…”

“You said you were in the park one minute after curfew. Was that a lie?”

“Well…no.”

“Then you’re guilty of park curfew. If you would’ve been home in bed, resting up for work, none of the other things would have happened, so this is your fault. Why did you break Officer Thorne’s wristwatch? Did you break it because he needs a watch to let him know what time he should go to work?”

“Your honor, this is highly irregular…”

The judge shot daggers at the defendant’s attorney. “If you even know what’s good for you, just sit down and shut up. You have a guilty client and I don’t think you really know what’s best for him.”

“But your honor…”

Judge Cahill glared openly at the defense attorney. It was clear to everyone the disgust and sincere hatred he had for the young lawyer, who then shamefully looked at his shoes and sat down.

“Answer my question. Did you break the officer’s wristwatch because he’s employed and you aren’t?”

“I didn’t break it.”

“I’ve heard enough. You are guilty as charged on all four counts…Park Curfew, Drunk and Disorderly, Assaulting a Police Officer, and damaging that wristwatch. The court fines you three hundred dollars court cost and orders you to pay for the officer’s wristwatch. You’ll also spend ninety days in jail.”

The defense attorney couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Your honor, you haven’t even allowed my client a chance to testify. I strongly disagree with the court’s decision…”

“You would like to be found in contempt of court? Perhaps share a cell with your client or whatever you call him? Is that what you want?”

“No, your honor.”

“Good! Mr. Beane, you’ll be immediately taken to jail when this trial is over. Officer Reg Thorne; please stand and receive your sentence.”

“Your honor?” Reg asked. As he began to stand he was more than a little confused.

“In the matter of Officer Thorne, it is the decision of the court that Officer Thorne will immediately go out and purchase a wristwatch with no concern to the cost. Spend freely! Turn the receipt over to my secretary and Mr. Beane will make arrangements to pay for your new watch before he’s released from jail. In the event he doesn’t pay for the watch; he can rot in jail for all I care. Court is adjourned!”

The court bailiff handcuffed Curtis and he sat and waited for transport to the county jail. His attorney leaned over and Reg heard the word “appeal” before Curtis shouted, “ARE YOU NUTS? APPEAL? I GOT A WATCH TO PAY FOR. YOU’RE FIRED!”

Ivan was holding his side, laughing so hard. “Hey Reg. Whydontcha buy one of those fancy watches. Maybe a Reflex? I hear they cost a fortune.”

Candy Bars and Nuts

1986

T
hey sat at roll call and Reg was nursing a hangover. Frank had his revolver out and was spinning the cylinder as he looked angrily at Quentin. The two of them had just returned from deer camp and Frank’s truck had ended up in the ditch, so naturally he found ways to blame his intoxicated passenger, Quentin. To make matters worse, they never saw a deer and Quentin found ways to blame Frank for that…it was just plain hard getting him to leave the bar most days.

The shift Lieutenant was conducting roll call and was raising hell about how Riverside Police Department employees weren’t paying for candy bars and other assorted treats. The candy concession was located in the break room and everyone was expected to pay on the honor system.

“I think it’s pretty shitty when cops, who are expected to arrest criminals for stealing and such, actually swipe candy bars—in a police station, no less. LET ME BE CLEAR! WHEN ANY OF YOU EAT A CANDY BAR AND DON’T PAY FOR IT? YOU’RE A COMMON THIEF.”

“Gee, Lieutenant, maybe the Chief could bring a vending machine in here. They could fill it with candy bars. It’d be the first time that cheapskate would pay for his own snacks is what I think,” Ivan opined.

“I’ll forget I heard that Ivan.”

“Why? It’s the truth! Look at yourself. I think you’re as big as you are yellow.”

“I can hear you, Ivan. You need to tread lightly.”

“For fuck’s sake, you brought this foolishness up. I thought we were having a...help me out here guys.”

“A meaningful, open dialogue,” Frank offered.

“Right, what he just said.”

“Just quit eating candy bars unless you pay for them!”

Calvin joined the discussion. “I wonder if that sheriff from up north pays for his candy bars. It seems to me he’s making a career of stealing the voters blind.”

“No shit,” Quentin said. “Frank and I are afraid to hunt deer in his county. I could see us shooting a deer and that crooked son of a bitch that calls himself a sheriff would steal it from us. That’s a lot worse than stealing a candy bar.”

The lieutenant viewed the change of subject as a way to drive his point home. “I’ll tell you true. It all starts with a little thing like a candy bar and before you know it, you end up in trouble.”

“No lie,” Calvin said. “They charged his sorry ass with embezzlement and the prosecutor lets him plea to co-mingling funds. He does time in another county jail and the best part? They re-elect him as their sheriff again and again. I don’t know about that being trouble but it sure seems inconvenient.”

“I heard it was only a couple of days in jail,” Ivan said. “Maybe the voters know a good thing when they see it. Maybe the sheriff up there isn’t a candy ass.” Ivan glared at the Lieutenant.

“Making a career out of ripping others off takes a special kind of asshole. But to make a livelihood out of swindling the general public, get exposed as a charlatan, and then keep right on conning people as if nothing ever happened takes an extraordinary kind of asshole with balls of industrial steel. Either that, or a sociopathic absence of self-awareness,” Reg said.

“Back to the matter at hand, the last thing I have is the latest FBI Ten Most Wanted list,” the lieutenant said. “They added three more names this week. Billy Waldon for three counts of homicide, Donald Williams for thirty-four counts of bank robbery, and James Dyess for unlawful flight to avoid prosecution on two murder counts. I nearly forgot; the FBI, among others, is looking for a serial killer that supposedly drops a playing card on each of his victims. Sounds like this guy is no longer playing with a full deck. Get it?”

They simply looked at him and not one soul even cracked a smile. “I don’t guess I need to tell all of you to be careful out there,” the Lieutenant said.

They gathered the information on the FBI new most wanted and the Lieutenant could hear the low rumble of Ivan’s voice in the hallway. “You think the bad guys the FBI wants us to catch ever ate a candy bar without paying for it first?”

******

Dennis Fletcher had been a pest all of his life and was a prescription drug abuser. He was also a member of the Riverside Police Reserves and loved to show his reserve badge to anyone that would look. He even used his less-than-deserved prestige to dress in his full uniform as he pursued gratuities. Fletcher loved to ride around town in his own car while wearing his police hat and stop at the fast-food restaurants. On one occasion a new employee at one of the fast-food joints tried to charge him when he pulled up to the window. He gave the teenager a stern look and made a thumb gesture toward his hat as he drove off without paying for his unusually large order.

Reg had dire issues with the use of police reserves in town and considered them nothing better than union-busting pests that only wanted to ride around with the real cops and take food off their table. He couldn’t abide the thought of part-time sycophants doing union scale work and offering up free labor that had always been known as paid overtime. Other issues, such as never being able to trust their kind, was not lost on Reg. He even went so far as to tell the Chief that if they wanted to do real police work the police reserves should apply, get hired, and attend the police academy, just like he and everyone else had done. The Chief was less than pleased with that conversation, which was something Reg knew. Then again, he could have cared less what the Chief thought, which was also something the Chief knew.

On a beautiful spring afternoon Fletcher walked into the car dealership where he’d taken his car in for repairs. The cashier told him that he had to pay for the repairs before he could get his car. He told her he’d be right back. Within the hour he was fully dressed in his police reserve uniform, which was a lot like the real uniform real police officers wore in Riverside. The only difference was he didn’t carry a gun and the police patches included the word “reserve” on it, as did the shiny badges that garnished his shirt and hat. He walked up to the cashier’s window with his hand on a nightstick that was owned and issued by the city of Riverside. The cashier’s eyes widened.

“I want my car and I want it now.”

“Rules are rules, Mr. Fletcher, and you have to pay for the repairs before you take your car.”

“Is that so?” He tilted his hat and made sure she saw his badge.

“That’s exactly so. We’ve actually been placed in a position of having to put a mechanic’s lien on customers’ cars in the past. Can you believe it? That people would actually think they can get out of paying for parts and labor?”

“Does this policy of paying first apply to police officers?”

The cashier looked at him disapprovingly and said, “You’re a police officer? What kind of police officer are you exactly?”

He twirled his nightstick and glared at her. “I’m the kind of police officer you ought not to mess with. You’ll give me my car keys immediately if you know what’s good for you.”

“I understand your position, Mr. Fletcher, and I’ll be right back with your keys.”

The cashier went into another part of the office and called the police and the dispatcher sent Reg to check on the complaint. It was a perfect storm. Reg despised reserve officers and Fletcher would soon be given correction.

Reg walked up to the cashier’s window and made sure Fletcher would hear him. “You’re having a problem with someone pretending to be a police officer?”

“Yes, this gentleman wants his car back and he won’t pay his bill first. He implied certain threats.”

Reg was in cop heaven and he turned toward Fletcher and said, “This is Halloween? You trick or treating? You want to trick people into thinking you are a real police officer?”

“Hey! We’re on the same team,” Fletcher said.

“Like hell we are. Get in my car, the backseat where all of the other riff-raff ride.”

“Don’t you think a little professional courtesy is in order?”

“Get in the car you unsavory maggot!”

Reg gave Fletcher a ride to the police station and Quentin and Calvin were walking out the back door when they saw him pull in with a reserve officer in the backseat.

“This we gotta see, Calvin.”

“I’m with you good buddy.”

Reg was walking Fletcher into the station and Calvin asked, “What’s up Reg? Training session?”

“He tried to pass himself off as one of us. He broke the law while he was at it. I warned everyone at last month’s union meeting these guys were no good.”

“Can we watch?” Quentin asked.

“Sure.”

They walked in the side employee entrance, first the cop and the pretend cop-suspect. Quentin and Calvin closely followed as they both snickered at what would most certainly happen. All four of them were in the booking room. Reg glared at Fletcher and said, “Take that city-owned property off your head and hand it to me.”

“Why are you upset with me?”

“Because people like you make me sick. How long you been in the police reserves?”

“Couple of years, is all.”

“So you thought it would be a good idea to try and pass yourself off as one of us and pick up your car without paying for the repair? Slick move, dumbass.”

“They were trying to overcharge me. You should investigate that!”

“And you should apologize to the cashier for the implied threats you made to her, and while you’re here? You should take off your shirt. It is city property after all. We three work for the city and you don’t.”

Fletcher slowly unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to Reg. “This ain’t right.”

“Neither are you. Hand over that nightstick. When I’m finished with you? No more pretend cop playing. I’ll make sure they kick your sorry ass out of the even sorrier police reserves,
comprende
?”

“Huh?” A tear rolled down his cheek.

Reg was no longer in a police station. All four of them were in another time, another place. They were standing on a parade ground and Fletcher getting cashiered in front of Quentin and Calvin, and Reg was conducting the ceremony. Reg had just ripped off epaulettes, nightstick, insignia, police hat, and badges. The degradation ceremony was complete. The Reg ritual was over.

The reserve officer was free to leave having been properly court martialed. Fletcher was permitted to walk out of the station and when he did he wore shoes and socks, a t-shirt, and a pair of police reserve trousers. If Reg would’ve been able to figure a way, he’d have found a pair of walking shorts for Fletcher and confiscated the reserve police trousers as well.

“Awesome work, Reg,” Quentin said. “You sure showed that asshole how to party.”

Calvin agreed. “Serves him right, I heard he rode around with what used to be his uniform and got all manner of freebies.”

Reg chuckled, “Those days are over, my friends. Those days are over forever.”

Reg was placing the uniforms in a bag after writing the report on Fletcher. He walked across a hallway and gave the uniforms to the Chief’s secretary and said, “The Chief will want to read this report.” He handed her a copy. The original had already been turned in. He was all smiles when he left the police station.

Before the end of his shift he was called back into the station. Lieutenant Chapman was waiting for him.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Sergeant Trapp has taken a complaint from Dennis Fletcher. He’s one of our reserve officers. He said you beat him badly for no good reason. We have pictures of his injuries. It looks like you really outdid yourself this time.”

“You’re joking?”

“No, I’m not. You’re a suspect in a felonious assault. I just thought you might want to know.” Chapman was all smiles.

“If you say so. The state police investigating this are they?”

“Sergeant Trapp is handling this with my expert guidance of course.”

“Good deal. For a second I thought I was in trouble. I thought the police were investigating me, but you decide to let Trapp run point on this…no worries.” Reg winked at Chapman and walked out.

After a week or so Reg was curious about the status of Fletcher’s complaint so he stopped by Chapman’s office. “Did that guy drop his horseshit complaint?”

“No. As a matter of fact he said he’d take a lie detector exam if you would.”

“Would you like me to take one? Because we both know it’s against the law for you to ask me to do so.”

Chapman smiled. “I’d never dream of asking. I was just relaying what the victim said.”

“Victim? Did you say victim? That guy’s a piece of shit and if anybody is a victim in all of this, I think it might be me. Did Trapp even bother talking to Quentin or Calvin? They were both there when Trapp’s victim walked out of here bruise-less. This is bullshit and you know it.”

“After reading the Sergeant’s investigation report on the complaint, I’m not so sure.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll take a lie detector test if you and Trapp agree to take one as well. You can take turns sitting on my lap and we can all get wired up to the polygraph. I have a few questions I’d like to ask the both of you, and if you agree? I’ll make sure there are plenty of fuses on hand. You’d both lie your asses off and probably tilt the polygraph like a pinball machine and I’d be the truth teller. Does the Chief even know about this load of crap he’s shoveling?”

“Well, it is, after all under investigation. That poor man was really beaten. You should work on your temper.”

A week later Reg was at the police lodge. The meeting was over and he was talking to Calvin and Quentin. The beer tasted good, but the subject was bitter. Sergeant Trapp was the topic of this particular conversation.

“So he never asked either of you about how Fletcher looked when he left the station?”

“Nope,” Calvin said. “When I tried to bring it up, he said I should just answer his questions.”

“Sounds to me like the guy slipped a cog,” Quentin said. “Personally, I don’t think he knows shit from Shinola.”

“He’s about the last guy anybody would want for backup. Gutless coward is all he’ll ever be,” Reg said.

They were soon joined by an off-duty deputy who always stopped by the police lodge after meetings. The deputy was drinking away his marital problems.

“So I’m sitting at the kitchen table yesterday morning, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. I lower the paper and ask my wife to pass the jelly, only guess what comes out of my mouth?”