Beginning of the Fall - A Series of Related Short Stories

[bitsmith]

Beginning of the Fall



Over time, events and circumstances happen that are large markers and fixed points in time. These fixed points are immutable and affected so many lives, so dramatically, it is easy to identify them as a catalyst to change in a society.



Just as these events are catalysts, so too are the tiny day to day events that shape individual lives.



I am Professor Simon Jones. Welcome to Sociology 306. This is a Junior series class. If you are a Freshman or Sophomore or just here to Audit, please move to the back most rows. You are welcome to audit, but not interact. This is a class for credits. And those who are here for credits will be expected to participate, daily, in our discussions. Labs are not voluntary and will require, on average, 5 hours of your time, each week, outside of this class. For Juniors and Seniors who are here for credits ... Please fill the front three rows. For our discussions, we will be changing seats in these sections frequently. Any of you NOT participated in a debate class, prior to this are welcome to leave, as you have not met the pre-requisites.



Three additional points before we move on to the content of the course: If you are a jock, or other sector of failing education standards, expecting an 'easy grade', please leave now. This course is for serious people willing to do serious work to learn something of value. Second, if you have preconceived opinions of racism, prejudice, inequality, or are just a little snowflake who expects the world to be nice to you ... get out, now. There is no hope for you, by now. Those of you invited to leave have 30 seconds to exit the class room. Anyone still here after that who wishes to drop the class, may, but there will be no refunds. I will not permit any part of my salary to pay for your mistakes, bad choices, or failure to read and understand terms such as pre-requisites.



Lastly, and most importantly, this is MY classroom. This is MY course. In here *I* am the diety who decides your fates. I will put before you assignments and challenges, rigged as I see fit. If you wish to pass this course, you will complete and survive each. And I *WILL* toss you out of here, physically, if I must and with added english so you will land harshly on a body part of my choosing. This course WILL cause you pain and discomfort. It WILL be unsettling. It WILL challenge who you think you are. And who you think your 'friends' are. If you have not yet been excluded for any of the previous reasons and accept these rules and unstandings, you are invited to stay.



...



That was a bit longer than 30 seconds and we only lost 6. Leaving 23 actual students. And at least another dozen 'kids' who are here to audit or watch the spectacle that is this course.



No. I will not be taking any questions, at this time. This is my kingdom and what I say carries with it the rewards of success or the punishments of failure. And right now, every one of you 'students' has a ZERO in this class. All of my students either pass or they fail. Any failure reflects as a ZERO on your transcript. Anyone successful to pass this course will receive a grade between 2.75 and 3.75. There is no 'prefect grade in life' so there is no perfect grade in this course.



You! Yes, you, back there in the far back. Fifth seat towards center from steps on my left. With the hoodie over a t-shirt. Stand up, please.



Thank you. Questions for you will determine if you are invited to stay, or not.



Question 1. As I am giving my expectations and setting the expectations of this course, did I not ask that all Freshman, Sophomores and those wishing to audit the class sit in the back row? With specific requirements of not participating?



Thank you for admitting you understood those rules.



Question 2. Are you being paid to present information in this course?



No? Good. Again, thank you for your answer.



Question 3. In a society, any society, when a member is not participating, within the understood and accepted rules of that society ... what usually happens to tha member?



OK. Let me rephrase the question for you. In our society, here, in these United States of America. We have laws that have been enacted and put in place to protect the individuals. No. I am the instructor, here. Please hold your tongue. What is the recourse of our society when dealing with someone who does not live or operate within those laws?



You are 'not certain'. Any of you in the back rows have an answer?



Yes, you with your hand up. Yes. Thank you. That is the correct answer. You may sit in one of the rows between these two groups.



The correct answer is expulsion from society. That expulsion may be temporary, such as for those who have committed a minor offense, and therefore emprisoned. Or that expulsion may be more drastic, such as capitol punishments for such heinous crimes as theft.



You, young man are charged with theft. Theft of my time. And 23 counts of theft of their tuition dollars used to pay for their participation in this course. How do you plead?



Not-guilty! Oh my. This is going just as expected. I have been doing this too many years and have seen most everything such unimaginative people, as you present yourself to be, can think up to defend their actions. If I had my druthers, I would just toss you out, as I have in semesters gone past. But this is a learning opportunity. So, everyone prepare to learn something.



I am your prosecutor. I am your judge. I am your jury. I am your executioner, if necessary. As your prosecutor, I am bringing an additional charge of sedition.



Were you or were you not in that last row, speaking with those around you, as I was presenting the rules and expectations of this course?



It is a simple question that requires a simple 'yes' or 'no' answer. Were you disrupting my presentation to those present?



Again. I care not what you were saying. Nor why. You were not sharing with everyone present in this micro society a warning of imminent danger, were you? Finally, your first honest answer. Thank you.



As you were disurpting my presentation, were you not, in fact, taking from these other students and attendees. Taking their time and potentially causing them to miss some piece of information that may cause them to fail this course?



'Yeah, I guess.' will be accepted as an admission of guilt to the charge.



As I described, I am the owner of this course. This room is my own cosmos and as such, everyone here is subject to my rule and must submit to such. Was this not stated, previously?



'No?' No, as in 'I did not hear that?' or No, as in 'That is not what you said?'



You did not hear it. Very well. You, miss. Yes, you in the yello shirt. Did I not make a statement that I was the diety of this room and my decision would affect your fate, in this room? Do not give the answer you think I want. Give the truth.



'Yes.' I did state I controlled the fate of each participant in this class. Young man, do you have a challenge to this young lady's testamony?



'No.' That is good. We can move forward, then.



Sedition is defined as: conduct or speech inciting people to rebel against the authority of a state or monarch. Synonyms include: incitement to rebel, subversion, troublemaking, and provocation.



Do you disagree that as the supreme ruler of this class, your disregard for the rules laid out, not 5 minutes prior, constitutes 'troublemaking'? Were your actions not provocing this response?



'Yes?' As the judge and prosecutor, I am the one who asks the questions, here. Either you were or you were not. Do you wish to change your answer?



'Yes.' You wish to change answer or you were making trouble and provoking a response?



'Yes, you were making trouble.' So, you ARE guilty of the charges presented.



Does anyone present have anything to add to his testamony?



Very well. Young man, seeing as you have stated you were guilty of seditous acts in this class room, and you had no peers stand for you to give testamony to your character, you are obviously an outcast of society. Someone who has self-determined the rules of society need not apply to you, because you are special. Is your judge, I accept your admissions of guilt. As your executioner, I sentence you to 'death' in this course. Seeing as you have been sentenced to death, your payment for this class is also forfeit and shall be applied to the losses incurred by the other participants by your actions. You are to remove your self from this room and not return until next semester, if you wish to attend again. See the TA at the door for your paperwork.



Now, we will all observe a moment of silent remorse for the loss to our society as this young departs.







TA! Who was he?



Grandson to the Dean? Dean of which college?



This one? Well ... That will certainly make the rest of my day interesting. Now, back to work. We have about 10 minutes left, before this microcosm of mine ends with the sounding of bells.



You all have witnessed the workings of a healthy society. There were clearly stated rules. A member of that society decided to not operate within those rules. That member was tried and expelled from the society for not obeying those rules that keeps the society together, defined, and at peace.



You have one assignment and one lab, this week, due in my inbox, within 144 hours. That is 6 days from now, so I may have a day to review and grade them. The assignment is no more than 500 words, describe the impact that young man COULD have had on this society, if he had been allowed to continue as he was. You are to use the premise that no amount of 'rehabilitation' would have helped him.



Your lab assignment is to find a military veteran (from any conflict they personally saw combat in), a career politician who has held an ELECTED office for at least 10 years and finally, a service provider who works in either social services or medical fields. Share with them what you witnessed here, today. Get THEIR feed back on the actions of the young man, the society and the ruling body. I expect 1000 words on each of those elements from each of your interviewees. With an additonal 1000 words regarding your personal understanding as shaped by what you witnessed and by what you learned in your interviews. The TA at the door has a list of places to find veterans, politicians who will make time available for you, on THEIR schedule and a list of suggested service provider industries and places to find them.



Next week, we will continue with the introduction of immigrants.



Now, get out of my microcosm.

[9idrr]

Good start. I like that the rules are stated and will be consistently applied. Ambiguity is discouraged. Expectations are laid out from the beginning. What seems to be un- or understated is that the diety retains the right to change the rules at any time. Good for keepin' class members on their toes.

[raymond]

WOW! This is exciting already. 3500 words of essay plus the required research will keep anyone busy even if they did not have other classes. Reminds me of a series on TV many years ago with a student and a very strict old man teacher. Wish I could remember the name of it. Thanks, Bitsmith!

[bigruss]

Are you thinking of the Paper Chase? John Houseman played the law school professor who struck fear into the hearts of students across campus.

[pbbrown0]

Set the expectations properly with your students (whether high or low), and many will achieve them (I use to think most would achieve them, but our society has trained students now to think that expectations are just more meaningless words without real consequences.)

[kaijafon]

I see this in high school. some of the kids have no clue as to even THINK about "expectations"

[bitsmith]

Backwards Justice

Thomas sat in the police department's waiting area. Where he had been sitting and waiting for the last hour and a half. He was growing more and more impatient as he watched plain clothesed and uniformed people behind the counter drinking their coffee, shooting the bull and just in general wasting time.

Despite the waiting and the other 6 people there before him, Thomas hoped he was called by the one person who seemed to actually be working at her desk. A uniformed cop, at a corner desk, away from the others bragging about their Friday night to each other. As the person sitting at the young officer's desk stood to leave, Thomas sat up a little straighter, hoping he would be called next. The officer limped (she had a cast boot on her leg) her guest to the gate in the railing before visiting the front desk to get the name of the next person to be seen.

"Hey, Rookie!" called one of those too busy to take a report or see anyone, as he munched on donuts and sipped coffee. "Slow down! You are making us look bad with your 'efficiency'!" Several others laughed, a bit uncomfortbaly as they looked at all those waiting to be seen before and after Thomas. Three of them peeled off from the group and went to their desks as the 'Rookie' left for the ladies room. Someone else came in, looking angry and went straight to his office, in the back of the large room. His presence broke up the coffee clutch as they all went to their desks. Mr. Life of the Party, waited a few moments then went to door of the evidently more senior person, before scurrying back to his desk. The Sargeant at the front desk just smiled as he looked up from his paperwork to each peson waiting. Making eye contact with Thomas, he gave a small nod and a wink to go with that sly smile. Someone had been called in, on a Saturday morning, so others would get to work.

As the others from the brag group each came up, picked up a name and called out for that person to join them at their desk, Thomas realized he was next, just as the limping officer returned. As she was given the preliminary report Thomas had already filled out, Thomas stood and tried to give a comforting smile. She weakly smiled back, and with a nod of her head, invited Thomas to follow her. She was mildly surprised, when Thomas stepped in front of her, to open the gate for her.

He replied with "Chivalry is not dead, ma'am. Just shown to be old fashioned and inconsistent with today's politics."

She nodded as she continued past Thomas, limping, slowly and obviously in pain, back to her desk.

"So, Mr. Baker. Your prelim here states your car was stolen from your driveway?"

"Uhm, no, ma'am. From within my garage. I went to work, yesterday morning, about 7:30, as usual. I got home, last night about 6. This morning I went into the garage to do laundry and I noticed the car was missing. So, I called 911. They told me, because it was a non-violent issue, I needed to report it in person."

"I see. Your report says the car was stolen, yesterday afternoon at 3:37. How do you know this if you were at work?"

Digging into his pocket, Thomas pulled out a USB flash drive, handing it to her. "I have a video surveilance system in my home. When I called 911, and realized no one was going to come to investigate, I took photos and copied the video for you. Every photo is time stamped ang GPS tagged. Also, here is the full description of the car. It was my father's and we restored it together, before he passed. It is quite important to me."

She handed the flash drive back to him. "Because of network security, I can not use that on this computer. Can you leave it with me, for our tech guys to review it to make sure it is safe to use?"

Thomas was a bit offended to even be suspected of being a digital criminal, but a moment later, he realized it was a safety issue, to keep their systems and information safe. He had similar restrictions implemented in his own office network. "Yes, you can keep it. I have others."

As she put the flash drive in a bag and filled out a form for it, she stated, "I will personally make sure you get it back. But I have no idea how long that will take."

Thomas just nodded, as he pulled up the same video on his cell phone. "Here, I have access to the surveillance on my phone, too." He handed her the phone, after queuing up the video to just a few moments prior to the break in. "I also have the photos of the door and such on there, too."

She watched the video, nodded. "I think our tech guys can get an ID off of this."

More questions and answers and she stood to limp her way to the printer. Thomas stood with her and stayed standing until she returned.

"OK. Here is the report you will need to file with your insurance. This number is your case number, they will need it. I hope they compensate you for your loss."

"Thank you. I just want the car back." Thomas replied.

They shook hands and Thomas left.

-----

Three weeks later, Thomas received a call on his cell phone. "Is this Mr. Baker? Mr. Tom Baker?"

"Thomas Baker. That's right. How can I help you?"

"Mr. Baker, I wanted to call to let you know you make come by the precinct and pick up your flash drive."

"Okay. Thanks. Were you guys able to pull an identity on the guy who stole my car?"

"Yes, sir, we did. And we see he has a long history of stealing cars going back, many years. I'm sorry to say, sir, that I doubt there is any hope in recovering your vehicle. This guy steals cars and sells them usually within 24 hours to chop shops."

"Oh. Thank you for letting me know. The insurance is not moving forward, until they have proof the car is not recoverable."

"I understand,, sir. Your flash drive will be with the Desk Sargeant. Please pick it up as soon as you can."

"Can that wait, until Saturday?"

"I will put a note on it you will be in, on Saturday." The tech answered. "Have a good day, sir."

-----

"Good Morning, Sargeant. My name is Thomas Baker. I believe you should have a flash drive for me to pick up."

"Hello, Mr. Baker. Do you have a case number?"

Thomas opened his laptop bag, pulling out a folder, within which was a copy of the police report he had created just 3 weeks earlier.

The Sargeant compared the number on the copy to that on the bag, and handed both back to Thomas.

The Rookie was walking someone out and smiled at Thomas.

"Mr. Baker, right?" She asked.

"Yes, that's right."

"We caught the guy who stole your car, last week."

"Oh! That's great! Did he tell you what happened to my car?"

"No. We caught him on an unrelated case." She replied. "Most likely, your car is gone."

"I understand that. But the insurance is not doing anything, until they know what happened to the car."

"This guy won't be of any help on that." She said. "I mean why would he admit to stealing another vehicle? Why catch another case and just add more jail time?"

"But ... what am I supposed to do about it?"

"It will take some time, but eventually, we will close the case as unsolved and then they can pay out."

"It's not about the money, ma'am."

She was quiet for a moment as she looked at Thomas. "I believe you, Mr. Baker. For you, this is not about money. Look. We have your video and photos. I will ask the investigating officer to give your case to the prosecutor. Maybe we can get this included as a separate count. Once we have him actually charged on your case, you can proceed to getting this right."

"Thank you. But, what can I do?"

"Call the DA's office, on Tuesday. Find out who is prosecuting this guy and ask to speak with them about your case. Unfortunately, becuase of vigilante's we are not allowed to tell you this punk's name. I need you to sign this receipt for your property, Mr. Baker." The Desk Sargeant interrupted.

Thomas turned, nodded, and signed the papers. "And this is your copy, sir." The Desk Sargeant told him, handing several sheets to Thomas.

"Thank you." Thomas said as he nodded.

"One last thing, Mr. Thomas?" Rookie Officer said as he started to turn to leave. "Don't take it personal, if the DA's office does not charge him with yoru case, too."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"I'm just asking that you don't get your expectations up, too high."

"Thanks. I won't."

-----

"Mr. Baker. I've called you back, but could not get through to you. You seem to be a very busy man. I've reviewed the video on your case, and just do not believe it is clear enough for a jury to accept as a positive ID."

"Wait. What? It is a clear video. His face is as visible as your boss's face was on the news, last night."

"I'm sorry, sir. But we will not be seeking charges against this person in your case." The voice on the phone said. "Please, stop calling us. We WILL call you, if there is anything more to inform you about on your case." The line went dead.

Thomas sat there, just getting more and more angry as he realized that nothign would ever be done about the violation of his home and the theft of his car.

-----

"Hello? Ray? This is Thomas Baker." Thomas said in the phone as he placed a call to his Dad's best friend. An attorney. "Yes, sir. Little Tommy Baker. Jerry's son. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need some legal advice. Do you have time for lunch? ... Today? Great! I will see you there at 1."

-----

"Mr. Flemming, sir. Do you have a moment?" Thomas asked as he stuck his head into his boss's office.

"Sure, Thomas." Mr. Flemming responded jovially. His smile faded quickly, as Thomas shut the door behind him. "OK, Thomas. What's going on? You seem upset."

"Mr. Flemming ... Sir? I'm not sure how to do this, so please bear with me, as I stumble. But I need to leave. I need to leave the company."

"What? Why, Thomas? Are you leaving to go to another company? Show me their offer letter and I will get HR to match it."

"No, sir. It's nothing like that." Thomas said, sheepishly, as he swallowed, again and again.

"OK. Thomas. How long have we known each other? More than 10 years you've been working for me, right?" Mr. Flemming asked. "The last few months, you have not been your usual self. Tell me what is going on, son."

"I jsut can't do this, any more, Mr. Flemming. It's not burn out, sir. I love the job and the work. But I can't stand this city. The trash. The corruption. The injustices we see each day. Since that scumbag stole my Dad's car ... and then the city refused to prosecute him." Thomas took a deep breath. "I'm moving, sir. My Dad left me a cabin out in the mountains about 4 hours from here. I'm going to move back there, and be left alone. Every day, I see on the news. Hell, just in the walk from the bus line to the building, every day, the stink and rot of our society. And I just will nto be a part of it, anymore."

"Thomas, how is your arm?"

"My arm? It's broken. I'm still in this cast."

"Do you need some time off, Thomas? We don't want to lose you." Flemming said. "It is terrible how that punk came after you for trying to push the prosecutor to cahrge him with the theft of your car. And then to have them charge you for shooting him, in your home, after he broke your arm. I get it, son. But please, don't make any rash decisions."

"I'm not being rash, Mr. Flemming." Thomas answered. "Maybe I'm just a throw back to a time when justice mattered more than budgets. Today, our society protects the criminals. We have no justice, here. And I just can not stay in the city. Please accept this letter. It is my written two weeks notice. I will document everything and even train my replacement, if you wish."

"Thomas, does that cabin you are escaping to have internet access?" Mr. Flemming asked. "If so, we may be able to keep you working for us as a contractor?"

"Thank you, Mr. Flemming. I will check into that as an option."

"I'm very sorry to see you leaving us, Thomas. I truly am. But I really can't say that I blame you." Mr. Flemming stated. "Let's get this started and I will look for your replacement, as well."

"Thank you, Mr. Flemming. I appreciate your understanding."

[blackpowderguy]

I can relate to the second one been there done that.

[pbbrown0]

I think an awful lot of the readers on this forum can relate to the sentiments of Thomas.

[ydderf]

Our federal Canadian police (RCMP)are 77thish on the pay scale out of 83 Canadian police forces. Is it any wonder they have become lackadaisical bullies who tend to shoot first and ask questions later. Forty years ago I respected the uniform now I respect the occasional man but very occasional.

[9idrr]

Apr 30, 2017 18:47:20 GMT -6 ydderf said:

Our federal Canadian police (RCMP)are 77thish on the pay scale out of 83 Canadian police forces. Is it any wonder they have become lackadaisical bullies who tend to shoot first and ask questions later. Forty years ago I respected the uniform now I respect the occasional man but very occasional.

Sad as it is to say, I know what you mean. When I grew up, we thought of your Mounties as the best of the best.

[bitsmith]

Gratitude of a Society

Ugh! Wallace grunted as he was mildly, but not gently kicked in the gut.

"Wake up, bum!" Came the grumble of who ever was kicking him, as it slowly filtered through the remnants of a whiskey supported night of peacefulness.

"Easy, Bennett!" came another voice. "He's not hurting anybody by sleeping here."

"It's the law, Simmons." came the growl, again. "The Mayor wants all these worthless bums and homeless rounded up and locked up. He wants this park cleared of this scum. Lazy bastards who won't get a damned job and take care of themselves. Come on! Get UP, already. Don't make me move you! You won't like it."

A harder kick to a thigh was landed, too close to a knee. Wallace was instantly awake as adreneline flooded his system, but he maintained the lethargic mothions as he slowly moved. His bones never ached like this, back in the Sandbox, for sleeping on the ground. It was colder, here.

"Still, Bennett, we have no idea who this guy is, nor what his story is." Simmons said. "I'm just saying that you could be a bit more realistic in how you handle these guys."

"This is the 10th one, this morning, we are having to run out of this park. I've got better things to do with my day, than rousting a bunch of lazy pricks out of their hangovers and sending them on their ways."

"Better things to do? Like what? Got a hot date with a box of cheap donuts?" Wallace grunted and immediately realized he should have kept his mouth shut.

Simmons hid a grin behind her hand as Bennett started to really get pissed.

"Listen, you scumbag, Get the F*** out of here! Now, before I run you in for resisting!" Wallace started shouting. "And I can guarandamntee you that you will fall a few times before I get you to the station house."

"Bennett is it?" Wallace asked, as he picked up his few things, stuffing them into the backpack he also used as a pillow. "If you are feeling froggy, then jump. But be fully prepared for the hell fire that will rain down upon you."

"Really? Did you just threaten me, you piece of shit?"

"Come on, Bennett, relax." Simmons said as she tried to get between the two men. "He only responded in kind to your threats. You need to drop this, now, before it gets bad."

"Simmons, go get us a couple of coffees." Bennett ordered.

"No, Bennett." Simmons answered. "I'm not leaving you here, alone."

"It's alright, Simmons." Bennett stated. "I know how to treat these pieces of trash. I'm just going to clean up this park. Picking up the trash, you know? Those are our orders. Now I'm giving YOU an order. Coffee, please. No Cream. Two sugars."

"Simmons, go. Don't force me to write you up in your first month. IT does not go well on your career."

Simmons looked to Wallace as he had finished packing his bag. Wallace made eye contact, gave her a small smile and a nod. She sighed as she realized this was going to be bad for someone. Seeing the anger in Bennett's glare, she turned, walking towards the path they had been on, wlking others from benches.

"GUN!" Bennett shouted, after Simmons had just gotten through the shrubery. She pulled her weapon and went back through the once manicured bushes.

As she came around another bush, both she and her body camera saw Wallace, sitting on his bag, an unconcious Bennett sitting on the ground, leaned up against a tree trunk, his hands cuffed behind him. Simmons saw a gun on the ground. Wallace just raised his empty hands up with a shrug.

Simmons immediately called in for backup. Wallace slowly laid down on the ground, placing his hands behind his head, fingers interlaced. The whole time, avoiding any approach towards the weapon on the ground.

"What happened, here?" Simmons asked.

Wallace just shrugged, again.

Simmons stepped closer, cautiously edging one foot deeper into the scene. Sweat beading up on her brow. She placed a foot on the weapon on the ground, realizing it was just like the one in her hand. "Whose gun is this?"

Wallace just nodded his head towards the still out Bennett.

As she took another step, she saw Bennett's baton was also on the ground.

Kneeling on Wallace, her knee in the small of his back, she placed a cuff on his wrist. She noticed he winced as she did. Wallace offered no resistance, as she pulled that hand down towards her knee. Wallace slowly and carefully moved his other hand down to join the other, where she cuffed it, too.

"What happened, here?" She again asked, as she stayed kneeling on his back.

"Please move your knee out of my kidney." was all Wallace said.

"OK, fine, if that is how you want this to play out." Simmons hosltered her weapon and started patting Wallace down. "Do you have any weapons on you? Got anything sharp in your pockets that may poke or cut me?"

"Nope. No weapons. No sharps." Wallace stated as he started to feel the aches of his life slowly creeping back into his reality.

"What is your name?" Simmons asked.

"Wallace" he replied, while trying to spit out some of the fine dust and dirt he had inhaled since being face down on the ground.

Simmons noted his worn boots. "Are you a veteran?" She asked. "What's in your bag?"

"Yeah, I'm a vet. I sleep here so I'm close to the docs." Wallace answered, feeling more tired as the wieght of his situation kept stacking up on his shoulders.

"OK. What's in your bag?" Simmons asked.

"A lot of stuff." Wallace answered. "Clothes. My gear."

She rolled the bag over to find a survival knife in a sheath attached to the shoulder straps. "You should have told me you had a knife."

"It's a knife. It's on my bag and out of my reach. So I did not have it on me." Wallace answered.

"Don't be smart with me." Simmons said.

"Officer, please, your knee is really starting to be uncomfortable on my kidney."

Simmons stood, took a step towards Bennett. Immediately, she noticed that his body cam was detached from his vest. That is not supposed to happen. She started slapping him, gently, to wake him. As Bennett was starting to come to, two more officers were heard calling for Bennett and Simmons.

"In here!" Simmons called out. "Under the big Oak!"

The two officers came through the bushes. Both with weapons pulled.

Bennett was starting to come to, saw the drawn guns and started kicking, trying to get his arms free.

"Easy, Bennett." One of the new officers stated as they kneeled next to him. "Are you hurt?"

"Naw, I'm good. This scumbag had help. I was blindsided." Bennett stated. "He had a gun. Did you find his gun?"

"Simmons, did you see anyone else?"

"No, Sargeant."

"Where were you when this happened?"

"I was outside the shrubs. Bennett ordered me to go for coffee." Simmons said. "Sargeant, I'm screwed, here. Anything I say either goes against the law or against another cop. Either way, I'm done, before I start. I heard Bennett yell out 'Gun' and I came back in. I found him like that. His gun on the ground there. His baton out and beside him."

"Got it, Simmons." the Sargeant stated. "I think you should nto say anythign more, until we get back to the house."

"Who is this?" the other officer asked, still holding his weapon on Wallace, though nervously.

"Miller, put that away." the Sargeant stated. "Who is he, Simmons?"

"He said his name is Wallace." she answered. "He had a survival knife."

"He was armed with it?"

"No. It was on his bag."

"Wallace?" the Sargeant asked.

"Yes, sir."

"What happened?"

"I was asleep. He kicked me awake, yelling. Calling names. Sent her for coffee. She was not even out of the bushes before he clubbed me with his stick. I knocked it from him. He pulled his sidearm, while shouting 'Gun'. As she was coming back through, I knocked him out and disabled him." Wallace stated.

"Why, Wallace?" the Sargeant asked. "You've taken worse beatings than he could have given you."

"Why do I have to take any beating from an angry cop?" Wallace stated. "And she did nothing wrong. She tried to stop him, but he pulled rank. She's just too new on the job to know how to stand up against the likes of him."

"Alright, Wallace" the Sargeant agreed. "Are you hurt?"

"Not really." Wallace answered. "He may have broke my wrist with his baton. Will need x-rays to be sure."

"Someone let me out of these cuffs." Bennett stated angrily.

"Shut up, Bennett." the Sargeant stated. "I know what really happened here, already. Simmons, uncuff your partner and get out of here. Miller and I will take Wallace in. You two go write your reports. And clear your cams, before you get there."

[9idrr]

Okay, "clear your cams", Sarge. Sounds like one of those departments where there needs to be somethin' that blows up in their faces to straighten them out. I guess it can happen anywhere, but I'd like to think that most forces would squash that in the bud.
Good writing.

[ydderf]

If police were better paid would we have better quality officers? Or would we still get mostly bullies applying to be police?

[kaijafon]

there are good and bad PEOPLE. in EVERY group, job, organization, government, etc.

If we shoot the bad people, will that make us bad too?


sigh, sometimes humans stink

[9idrr]

May 13, 2017 17:58:20 GMT -6 kaijafon said:

there are good and bad PEOPLE. in EVERY group, job, organization, government, etc.

If we shoot the bad people, will that make us bad too?

Only if we miss.

[udwe]

Very interesting. keep going

[bitsmith]

Lost Hearts


"You are just like every other man I have ever had in my life." She screamed in his face. "You show up when you think I need something, expecting to get laid or something! That's not who I am, buddy, and you better get that through your thick stubborn skull!"

He stepped back from the force of her anger assault, making sure he was out of range of her arms. He had simply showed up at her house with a handful of flowers and a little 'just because' card. She had been on his mind all day. And he knew stopping by her house, unannounced, was not something she liked, but he wanted to see his supposed girlfriend. He wanted to share a little something with her.

"Wow. I ... " he started.

"You what? Huh?" she continued. "You think a handful of flowers are going to open my legs to you?"

"Honestly, if that is what you really think of me, then you have not taken the time to get to know me. At all. For years, I have been there for you when you asked for it. I've stood to the side as you went through life changing events. Because that is where you wanted me to stand. I just stopped by today, to try to surprise you with a little something to show I gave a damn." he answered, feeling his anger boil up, approaching that point where he knew he would say something he would regret. He took another step back, laid the flowers and card on her porch step. "You were on my mind, that's all. Obviously, I've come at a bad time. I hope your day gets better."

"Yeah, that's it. Walk away. I try to be real with you, and you walk away." She shouted. "Where are you going? Back to your 'work'?"

"No. I'm just going home. Back to my apartment. You know that place you won't come to."

"It's a small dirty little place and you don't have enough room in there to turn around, let alone have guests." she said, lowering her volume and bringing her voice back down an octave or two. "And the place just stinks. It smells like that pet place downstairs. And you might be a bachelor, but with all that shit you have in there, all those tubs ... You don't even have a couch!"

"Yeap! You are right. It is a small, dirty, nasty smelling place." he agreed. "But that is what I could afford, when I moved to be closer to you. That is where I came to live. A place just a little over a mile away from you. I've been there for nearly two years, and you've been in it once? To close the windows for me, before a rainstorm soaked the entire place. You drive by, don't see my vehicle and accuse me of being out on the town."

Before she could say anything more, he pushed on "And I do have a lot of stuff. Too much stuff for that tiny apartment. My plan was to live there a few months and find a better, larger place near here. Maybe a small house. You know the kind of place you could come hang out at, to get away from some of the issue sin your world. A calm quiet place you could just hide from everything in. That was what you told me you wanted. But that has not happened. How many times have I paid to turn your lights back on? or the gas? Water? Mortgage payments? Car payments? Insurance? I've been there, when you drove by then called to accuse me of being out and about. So tell me, why don't I have a better nicer place? Why don't I have all those tubs of stuff in a storage facility?"

"Don't blame me for not being able to make enough money for my bills from my job! It's not my fault I can't make any money in there. I at least HAVE a job." she barked. "You have your own 'business'. But it takes up all of your time. When you are not at the club with me, you are 'working'. I KNOW you are out running around at other clubs. I hear the talk about you from other bartenders and customers that go to both places."

"Yes. I do go to a few other places." he admitted. "I've never hid that from you. But I will tell you this: The next time you want to tell me not to get jealous of your career long guests and the attention to put on them, consider how much time you actually spend with me. It is NOT a privilege or honour to be allowed to watch you work all night. Or to have to put up with your disappointed pout when it is time for me to leave."

"Hey, buddy, I've stopped asking you for money for anything." she answered sharply.

"Yeap! You don't ask, anymore. You just tell me you need it." He answered, letting his shoulders sink. "You know that if you tell me you need it, I'm more likely to just get it for you. And on and on the cycle goes. You take me for granted. You expect me to drop what I'm doing to get you dinner and bring it to you at the your job. Not once have you shown up at my office with lunch for us. And don't even start to blame it on your grandkids or kids. It's been too long. You've had opportunity but no real interest. You just don't want to."

"So what are you saying? I don't do anything for you? And that means what?" She asked, getting shrill, again. "It means nothing, just because you don't see me doing something does not mean it did not happen."

"As petty as you just proved yourself to be ... With that simple statement, you show that you can't do something nice for someone in the background. You have to let someone know you did soemthing for them. So you can gloat on it and use it to get them to do more for you. That is how you operate. That is just who you are."

"And I do NOT take you for granted." she said quieter "I appreciate everything you have ever done for me."

"Sure you do. You appreciate it everytime your lights have come back on, because I gave you money to help get them back on." he said.

"I DO!"

"Yes, you do. I'm sure of it. It is a thought you have everytime that happens. For about 10 seconds. and then it's gone." He said. "I think I'm done, here. I want ande need someone who wants me in their life. not just at their job. Someone who will respect me for who I am, not what I can do for them. It's been too many YEARS I've been doing this. It's time for me to stop."

"So what? Going to be a coward and just walk away?"

"Nope!" he said as he stopped at his car door. "Not being a coward. Just stepping back to give you the space you need to decide what you are going to do."

"Oh, so you think you can teach me a lesson on how to what? Be a better girlfriend?"

"Ha!" he laughed back at her. "No, I would not presum to do such. I mean, afterall I'm obviously no boyfriend to you. But here is an answer for you to think about. I hope you find the right question. 'You know where I live. You know where I work. You know how to find me if I'm not at either. I remind you of this, so you can put actions to your words. Those three little words that mean so much to some and so little to others.'"

Three weeks later, after only pleas to come see her at her job, to help her with some bill and telling him she missed seeing him, he decided it was time to move on. To find someone who would actually appreciate him, rather than use him. He found a nice, larger, better place to live, on the opposite side of town. She drove by on the day he was moving. The few friends he actually had were there, carrying his stuff, in all those tubs down the stairs and into a rent-a-truck. She decided to stop, then. Snubbed by his friends, she was blocked from getting in the building to see him. They had all seen the depression he had been stuck in for the last few years, while chasing after her. They were not going to let her in to undo everything.

"He's too busy to see you." Shelly told her. "Today just is not a good day. You should have done something to keep him, before you totaly lost him."

"Let me in to see him!" she screached at Shelly. "He's my man and I have a right to see him!"

"You have no such right, miss." Shelly's husband Mark intervened. "As a police officer, I can tell you truthfully, you have no right. Shelly, let her by. He needs to deal with this himself."

She stormed past Shelly and Mark both. Trying three times to get up the stairs, only to be sent back down again, by someone bringing something large downt eh stairs. Finally, she got up the stairs and into the apartment where she found him, packing the bathroom.

"What's going on?" she asked full of innocense.

"I'm moving." he answered, quietly, not realizing everyone else was outside, but for Tim and John, who were in the hallway, outside the apartment, just in case someoen was needed. "I'm glad you came by. Do you have that set of keys, with you?"

"No. They are at the house." she answered, starting to get scared. "Where are you moving to?"

"Out of here. This apartment is just too small for me. And all my stuff." He said. "And I'm a bit tired of the loneliness in here."

"Do I get to come visit you at the new place?"

"I don't think so." he answered, as he kept sorting and putting stuff from the linen closet into a tub. "Don't worry about the keys. I'll rekey the locks before I leave."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you leaving me?" she asked, starting to tear up.

"I honestly do not believe it is possible to leave someone who was never really there." He said, as he turned after picking up the tub. "Excuse me, please. I need to get this downstairs."

She stood there crying, as he went past. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she watched John and Tim come in. "At least you have a few things to remember him by. He has nothing from you. I think that will be a good thing to help him move past what you have done to him for far too long." Tim stated as he took up a broom and entered the bathroom.

"I know him, becaus ehe came to the bar a few times. I didnot like him then, and I don't like him, now." she said, looking ot John. "Who are you?"

"I'm John. Tim and his friend. Real friend. I'm there, when he needed to vent about you, rather than at you. He was not talking abotu you, behind your back as much as he was protecting you form the pain you caused him."

"So ... ? What is this? Is he just quitting because I can't make tiem for him?" she asked. "Or is it because I'm not the kind of girl to jsut sleep with every guy I know?"

"HA!" came a loud and singular laugh from the bathroom. "If you think that is what he wanted from you, then you really don't know him. He wanted somethign so much more important and valuable and it would have cost you nothing. Such a shame, too. He's a very good man. It's a shame you never saw that."

"I saw he was a good man. That is why I loved him."

"You may have seen it. But you never loved him." John tossed in. "But it's not my place to say anything more. He's my friend. You are not. But telling you the truth would hurt you, which in turn would just hurt him. Tim, ready to move this bed?"

"Yeah, let's do that." Tim agreed, putting the broom in a corner.

A few minutes later, he came back up the stairs with Shelly and Mark, with Mike trailing. "Oh, you are still here." he said when he saw her still in his bedroom.

"Yeah, evidently I'm jsut an absolute terrible person."

"You are how you see yourself and what you decide to do about that image." he said quietly.

"What was that?"

"It's simple. If you see yourself as fat, bald, ugly, useless, unwanted person, that is who you will remain. At least until you decide to see yourself differently. That is what I have done, this past month, or so. I deserve to see myself as better than I have been." She followed as he left the bedroom. He stopped at the coset with the furnace in it, handing out two buckets of cleaning supplies and a mop. "Hold these a second, please?"

After closing the carpet, he stepped into the tiny kitchen, placing a bucket under the faucet. "Hey, Shelly? Can you try to find the tub for the kitchen drawers? We forgot to pull out the aerator for the faucet."

"Really? I don't even know what that means."

"What? The aerator?" he asked.

"No, that shit you were sharing before. You are not ugly. Useless or unwanted."

"Then why are you here, now, today? this minute?"

"Well I was driving by and saw the moving truck. I was hoping you had gotten some furniture and was starting to make this place more livable."

"Nope. It was livable. I made it such. It was livable for me, because no one else thought it important enough to be a part of it with me. Even on rare occassions." He said. "I think it is time for you to leave. You can't really help move anything with your knees damaged as they are. And the cleaning phase is about to start. That will be a lot of crawling aroudn ont he floor, and such."

"What is this? You are just kicking me out of your life?"

"Nope. I've just stopped waiting for you let me be a part of yours." he said. "Excuse me, please. I have work to do."

"Work?"

"Yeap. I have work to do. I need to clean this place up, so I can get my deposit back." He answered, politely, as he left the kitchen with a bucket of hot soapy water and a sponge. She watched him as he slowly, painfully knelt down to srub the baseboards in thh living room.

"One thing is for certain," Shelly said to her as she just looked at him. "he is one hard working man. I hope he also makes the time to live just as hard."

She turned and left the apartment. Taking the stairs down, she saw a few people hanging out around the moving truck, having opened up a cooler filled iwth beers and sodas. Tim and John among them. Stopping she looked around at them all. "Screw you all. Taking my man away. I need him and you all just think you can move him away? I will have him back."

"No." he called from an open window. "No, you won't. Because you don't need me. You only ever needed what I could do for you. Once you told me that you did not understand why you had such bad relationships with men. I will give you a littel truth I've learned recently. If you want to have a relationship with someone, just show up."

"Show up? what the hell does that mean?"

"It means, very simply, be more than your words. When you tell him you love him, make sure he knows it, not just because you said it, but because you have shown it." He answered back. Hollowly. Emptily. With no emotion to the words. The same way she had told him hundreds of times that she loved him. He then closed the window. Everyone else, started closing the truck or moving to their vehicles. She watched and sat in her car, crying as she watched him and Shelly come down the stairs, with the buckets of cleaning supplies. Shelly was smiling. He was wooden faced. He made eye contact with her. Held it for a moment, then turned away, shaking his head.

Mark parked his police cruiser behind her car, as everyone else left. He got out and approached her window. "I'm sure this hurts and is hard on you. But please, leave him alone. Let him get past you and what has happened the last few years. He needs someone who actually wants to be a part of his life. That person is not you. You had your chance and did not seize it. He needs time and distance to heal. So do you."

"Move your car, or I swear I will back into it."

"I know you do not mean that. We are just going to sit here for a few minutes. Give them all time to get away from here, without being followed." Mark told her. "By the way, do you have your license, insurance and registration, please?"

Mark returned to her window a few minutes, later. "Here you go. Thank you for your cooperation. Just as a courtesy, you have a tail light out. The autoparts store over there, will replace the bulb for you. Oh, and your insurance expires next week. I would look into getting that taken care of, if I were you."

She just scowled at him, as he smiled courteously and professionaly.

Mark got in his cruiser and drove away.

She went home to get the keys she had for the apartment. As soon as she got back home, her daughter started in with questions about where the baby formula was, and that she needed diapers. Her son in law asked what was for dinner. The grand babies both wanted her attention. Her son asked her for a cigarette. They all just got louder and more upset as she pushed past them to get to her bedroom. She closed and locked the door, keeping them all out. The babies started crying. Her daughter and son in law could be heard fighting. Her son knocked on the door, to again ask for a cigarette.

And she cried into her pillow. Several minutes later, she stopped, stood and found all the things he had given her. The fancy boots she had never worn that he gave her for a birthday. The expensive Coach brand bag he found for her, even though it was years out of circulation. She found all of the things seh had asked him for and the little things he had just gotten for her. And she came across the card she had gotten for him, but never given him.

Holding that card, reading it, again, she sank back onto her bed and cried more.

'There will be times of doubt,
There will be moments of heat and anger,
When you are lost amongst them,
Remember despite it all, this card shows I love you.'

And she understood, that she never gave him reason to believe her. Never gave him the tools to fight for her. She just expected him to be there, when she was finally ready. And she knew she would never have been ready, because he was not the type of man she was attracted to. She saw him as bold, old, gray, fat and ugly. She remebered the brightness in his eyes when started seeing her. Then she remembered the dull gray those bright blue eyes had become. They lost their shine.

[pbbrown0]

Exceptionally good chapter, bitsmith.