Authors: Patrick Abbruzzi
Near the entrance to the building, Frankie, Frank and Willie were now trying to form some sort of protective wedg
e
for the parents in an attempt to get them through the crowd of reporter
s
and cameramen who were blocking the lobby of the apartment building. Detective Rizzo caught up with the group and simply pushed his way through the throng of media people, pretending that he lived there. Reporters and cameramen were falling everywhere; it was a beautiful sight. Whe
n
Rizzo finally caught up with the other officers, he explained that he had place
d
Hartmill in the car with me.
When he heard those words spoken, it was as if something snapped inside the father’s brain.
Mr. Jenkins tore through the lobby doors and pushed his way through the crowd of reporters, actually knocking several of them to th
e
ground. When he reached the street, he looked to his left and saw th
e
RMP with the man who had murdered his son sitting in the front seat. Without pausing, he ran towards the cruiser with fury and hatred in his eyes.
The window on Hartmill’sside was closed and the door was locked. M
y
door was unlocked but when I saw the father racing toward our vehicle, I quickly locked it. My window was partially down, however, and I didn’t have time to roll it up completely. The grieving father didn’t hesitate as he reached into the partially opened window in an attempt to grab Hartmillfrom outsid
e
the vehicle. He was blind with rage.
“You fucking murderer! I’ll kill you! You son of a bitch!”
The crazed father continued to reach further and further into the window and I was afraid h
e
was going to break the glass with the force of his body.
In an instant, Mr. Jenkins grabbed my left hand and began pulling it up and over the pane of glass. The pain was excruciating and I truly believed that my arm would b
e
pulled completely out of its socket. With my free hand, I unlocked the door and pushed it open with the left side of my body. The openin
g
door caused Jenkins to release my arm and I fell to the pavement
.
The enraged father then tried to climb over my body in an attempt to ge
t
to his baby’s killer.
I was in a lot of pain and had lost the use o
f
my left arm. Although I did not want to intentionally harm Mr. Jenkins, I could not allow him to kill Hartmill, no matter how much the son of
a
bitch deserved it. I also didn’t want the grieving father to get into any real trouble. He already had enough sorrow and heartache. No matter how bad it was, I knew I would not pursu
e
any charges against Mr. Jenkins for my arm injury.
I grabbed him around the waist with my free arm but Jenkins turned around an
d
lifted me high into the air. The photographer for the New York daily News was there and the front cover photo the next day wa
s
of this image, Jenkins raising me over his head. This was when the rest of my team reached us and restrained the grieving father as gently as possible. After a slight struggle, they escorted him back to the lobby and the safety of his apartment.
An ambulance responded to the scene and I was treated for the injury to my arm. Thankfully, it was determined that my arm only needed to be in a sling, for which I was out for the next few days. Although my injury gave me a good reason for staying home to recuperate, I dreaded being out and wanted to get back to be with my partner.
Detective Rizzo finally made it up to the Jenkins apartment and, afte
r
offering his sympathies, quietly explained what their next steps would entail. While he did this, Frankie, Willie, Frank and I resumed patrol.
Eventuall
y
Hartmillwas indicted by the Staten Island Grand Jury and faced trial. H
e
was sentenced to 25 years to life and, to this day, sits in solitary confinement in the Sing Sing Prison in Ossining, NY.
“So you see, Charlie, this was how I met evil, face to face, in the form of Wilbur Hartmill. Now you know the main reason why I detest working Easter Sunday
s
in the 120
th
. When I sit back and look at the entire picture, I can’t even begin to imagine what pain those parents must still be enduring. You always hear peopl
e
speaking about closure in cases like this. Closure my ass! Mr. and Mrs. Jenkin
s
will have a hole in their hearts for as long as they live. Hopefully the
y
had another child and eventually got on with their lives, but n
o
one will ever know the pain they felt and endured that fateful day.
“So, if there is any lesson to this story, it is simply this; whil
e
there is life, there is hope. With life, all things are possible. We hav
e
the power to heal, to change our ways and to make peace with our God an
d
with our loved ones,” said Lt. A. stoically.
“I guess you’re right, boss,” Charlie said with a nod.
He was going to take advantage of the lieutenant’s mood and tell hi
m
what was going on in his life between Annette and himself. He had been following the lieutenant’s advice and avoided all contact wit
h
Terry. Even though he had been brutally honest with her, it seemed she could not accept the fact that she had not won him over.
It was only after Charlie had made the difficult decision to make the clean break between them that he had painfully discovered she had been lying to him. She had always said she would never hur
t
him or cause him pain, but the opposite soon became clear through blatantly truth.
“Right after I told Terry that I was going to try to reconcile wit
h
my wife, Annette received a large manila envelope in the mail. It contained every card and written love letter I’d ever sent Terry,” Charlie said as he shook his head.
“Lou, when a man sleeps with a woman, it’s a very personal an
d
intimate time spent together. The words spoken to each other during these moment
s
are the deepest and most intimate, reserved only for their ears. I wrote those very thoughts and feelings in my letters and cards to Terry
.
I used to speak and write of my burning desire for her and tell her how I wante
d
and needed her so much. I very vividly described what I wanted to do t
o
her. You can imagine how Annette felt when she read those words. He
r
pain must have been horrendous.”
He paused and shook his head, still having a hard time believing Terry could do something so cold and heartless after all they’d shared.
“Annette and I were really trying very hard to work out our problems. She was happily aware that
I
had severed all ties with Terry and I knew she was no longer seeing her boyfriend from work. As a matter of fact, she transferred to another branch of her firm on the north shore, withou
t
my asking her to do so. We had been going out to romantic dinners and I truly believed we were really getting close again, but when she received that envelope from Terry, it all fell apart.
“I tried to explain that, yes, I had said those things but it was during the relationship which was now over. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to matter to her at tha
t
point.
“Just two days later a second envelope arrived. This one containe
d
every piece of jewelry I had ever bought for Terry. There were charms in th
e
shape of little handcuffs, a miniature shield and a little police baton. Everything was police oriented.
“Also included in the envelope was a letter, hand-written this time, where she explained to Annette that she would win me back or die trying.
“Annette’s response was that she’d had enough and wante
d
nothing more to do with me. She said she was completely drained an
d
it was over between us, once and for all. I tried to be honest and told her
I
had done all those things because, at the time, I truly believed that I love
d
Terry and was not just using her for sex.
“In any event, we haven’t been sleeping in the same bed or speaking for almost a week now. I fee
l
completely lost, Lieutenant,” Charlie said, his eyes filled with regret and his voice barely a whisper.
“I really feel for you, Charlie, and I have a suggestion. Remember when
I
told you about Father Krackowskion York Avenue? He was that wonderful priest who had been mugged and his gift for his best friend, Pope Joh
n
Paul 2
nd
had been stolen.”
Charlie nodded.
“Well, I never told you this, but my wife and I had gone through a little marital problem around that time and we both agreed together to go and see Father Krackowski. I had spoken to him countless times over the years while I was still a cop in the precinct. He was a man so full of love and infinite wisdom. He loved people so much tha
t
his love just spilled over in so many caring ways.
“I think if you could convince Annette to go with you and see him, he might be able to help you both reconnect. He knows how to find the real you, if you know what I mean.”
Charlie nodded again as the lieutenant continued.
“I met another priest like him years before I became a cop when I wa
s
married in Saint Anne’s Parish in DonganHills. The regular priest was ill at the time so we got married by one who was temporaril
y
staying at the Franciscan Brother’s Friary up on TodtHill. My wife an
d
I were required to go see him as part of the marriage process. We only stayed an hour with him, Charlie, but I was completel
y
enthralled by him. He was on a sort of hiatus from his missionary duties in Asia and had been a Chaplain during World War Two. He had also been portraye
d
in the movies by actor Pat O’Brien. They made a movie of his exploits, titled
Fighting Father Dunne
.
“I have always been in awe of these men of the cloth whose belief enabled them to overcome insurmountable barriers and whose faith and love moved mountains, just as th
e
scriptures say.
“Remember that I was present at the miracle of Father
Krackowskiwhen w
e
recovered his gift for Pope John Paul 2
nd
? Now my faith is telling me now tha
t
what you and Annette truly need is the special love and attention that Father Krackowski has to offer. He is older now but he is still the pastor over at St. Stanislaus KostkaChurch on York Avenue. If you would like I can give him a call and ask him first, of course, if he i
s
up to it,” explained Lt. A.
“Lou, I would really appreciate that. When I get home I’ll try and spea
k
to Annette and see what she says,” Charlie agreed without hiding the hope in his voice.
When the tour was over, he signed out and drove straight home. On the way, Charlie decided to stop in front of Saint Anne’s Church. This was where he had been married as well as the place where his kids had gone to parochial grade school. He remained in his ca
r
and said a silent prayer to St. Anne, the patron saint of Christian mothers. Annette had always been a good mother, if not a grea
t
mother. She sacrificed for them when they were younger by giving up he
r
career so she could be a stay-at-home mom. She had volunteered for their children’s classes at school and had been involved in all their school trips and projects. She had also been there for them when they started dating.
He said a silent prayer for her
,
no matter which direction fate and life took her. He loved her and praye
d
that he could convince her to go with him to see the priest. He also hoped, more than anything, that Father Krackowsk
i
would be up for the task.
Charlie drove home, parked his car and went into the house. Annett
e
was still there and looked so very depressed. She had not even gotten dressed for work and it was obvious that she had been crying.
“Annette, please don’t cry. I know how you must feel after receiving al
l
those cards and jewelry. After I broke off the relationship, Terry tol
d
me she would do something like that. She said if she coul
d
not have me, no one would. Sending you the cards and jewelry was her way of trying to accomplish that. All I can say is that we are working on it and I feel so happy, happier even
,
in working with you now than I ever have at any other time in my life. I want us to be victorious in this, honey. Let’s not let her win. Please,” he begged.