POLICE FORCE UNDER SIEGE

CHAPTER ONE
 

Judge Able sat in her den sipping Jamesons and trying to pluck a coherent thought from her mind.  She knew that her brain was seventy percent water and right now she thought the neurons in her head were all swimming around in circles. She was listening to an old Horace Parlan piano jazz trio and trying to relax after a light dinner.

The judge, who appeared formidable and stern in her black robes sitting on the bench with cropped silver hair, and icy blue eyes quelling any nonsense in her court room; was curled up in a big leather recliner dressed in casual jeans, a clingy silk blouse, with feet bare.  Her slender, feminine body and short, lightly spiked silver hair framed a pleasant, strong face but her blue eyes were cloudy and troubled tonight.  

Her last trial had been the bloodiest in the state’s history.  A serial killer butchered one juror, and two of her friends and co-workers; her law clerk, and a bailiff on her staff, before they figured out the killer’s identity and stopped him just short of getting to Judge Able.  She hadn’t known the juror but she was grieving for her law clerk and bailiff.  As soon as the trial was over she took a leave of absence to give herself time for reflection and reassessment of her career. 

Out running errands the next afternoon Judge Able parked and knocked on the door in a middle class neighborhood. Stella Juarez answered and when she saw the judge a warm smile spread across her lovely face.

 “Please, come in Judge Able.  Here, sit here in this chair and I will get you coffee,” Stella said practicing the English she was learning in the local high school adult classes.

The judges choose the sofa and told Stella, “Please don’t fuss over me, Stella, it makes me nervous.”

“I’m sorry judge but I’m so happy to have you in our home,” Stella said.

Beth took Stella’s hand and pulled her down to sit on the sofa, “Stella, I am just a grieving friend of your husband’s when I am here.”

“I miss Jose so much,” Stella said.

“I miss Jose too,” Beth said, “Now, Stella, tell me how the children are doing.” Beth asked.

Stella brought out school pictures that had just been taken of the two oldest and showed them to the judge.

“They both resemble Jose,” the judge said, “Do you have any extra pictures?” she asked.

“You can have these,” Stella said with tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, Stella, I’ll treasure them.” 

 “Judge Able, Beth,” she said shyly, “We were all so honored that you gave Jose’s eulogy at the funeral, I can never thank you enough.  And all the food you sent over for everyone who came to our house afterwards, we had enough for a week,” Stella said.

“It was my pleasure, Stella.  Your husband was important in my daily life and I miss him.  I feel bad that he was working for me when he was killed.”

“You must not feel bad, Beth, he was so proud to work for you and he told me he had lunch with you in your office with the chief of police and a crime lab man and a homicide detective.”

“Jose was part of our team, Stella, a very important part of the team and I could always trust him to do his job well.”

The judge rose and said, “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer but I have a business dinner with the chief tonight and I must hurry.”

“Thank you for coming here, Beth, and come back soon.”

Judge Able hurried down the steps from the Juarez home and headed back to town.  She thought of Jose Juarez as she drove.  She first met him when he was a very young man brought before her in night court as an illegal from Mexico.  He was determined to get a job and send money back to Mexico for his wife and infant son.  She had taken an interest and helped him get a green card and find work.  He worked hard, went to school, and became a citizen and eventually a bailiff in her court.  Jose had been murdered by a serial killer while working for the judge on special assignment.

 She showered and changed into more casual clothes then drove downtown and found a parking place across from Kelly’s.  She grinned to herself, Kelly’s was not exactly a dive but it was close. It was an old cop’s bar that served great steaks and baked potatoes and strong drinks.

The chief already had a table and she went over to him greeting old friends as she worked her way through the scattered tables.  “Hey, chief, how are you?” she asked.

“Hungry,” he growled.

“You’re getting old and grumpy chief.”

They ordered the porterhouse with baked potatoes, green beans and Beth asked for plenty of horseradish and a Jameson neat.

“I want to ask a personal question judge.”

“What’s that chief?” she was puzzled.

“Have you been offered the federal judgeship?” he asked.

She said quietly, “I have.  Why are you asking?”

“It doesn’t matter, you’ll be great on the federal bench,” the chief said.

Their steaks came and they both dug in and ate for a while before she said, “I haven’t accepted the position yet.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure it’s what I want,” she responded.

“Why the hell not?” he asked, “Isn’t that what you’ve been working toward for years?”

“I thought so until this last case,” she admitted.

“The serial killer case?” he asked.

“Yes and Jose Juarez’s murder.”

“What exactly do you mean?” the chief asked.

She sighed, “I’m not sure but I realized that I miss police work for one thing and the higher I go on the bench the less contact I have with real, live people.”

The chief smiled, “I like the sound of that,” he said.

She frowned, “What’s up?” she asked.

“Beth, I’ve decided to hang it up.  That last kill was tough and I’m dealing with some problems at home. My wife says it’s time to retire, or else.”

“Sorry chief, but what’s your retirement have to do with me?” she asked.

“They want you for the job,” he said.

“Me?  Chief of Police?” she asked.

“You’ve put your time in homicide, you know the law, and you’re an able administrator,” he said.

“Wow, I’m shocked,” she said.

“I’m here to discuss it with you officially and then you talk to the Commissioner,” the chief said.

“Give him a call tomorrow if you’re interested,” he jotted down a private number for her to call.

They finished dinner on a lighter note and the judge went home to spend a restless night.  She got up and wandered around the house.  It was too big now that she was a widow and her daughter was married but she loved the big rambling home and couldn’t part with it. Each and every nook and cranny in the house held sweet memories of her childhood, her marriage, and her daughter Ellen.

The next morning she called her old homicide partner, Matt Crenshaw, “You got a few minutes to stop by Matt?” she asked.

“You got coffee, I got time,” he laughed.

Matt showed up about half an hour later. 

She smiled at his familiar, lined face and watched him fold his lanky frame into one of her kitchen chairs.

“What’s up Beth?” he asked.

“I’ve been offered the federal judgeship,” she said.

“I figured you would be,” he said.

“Matt I’ve had another offer,” she said.

He frowned, “What’s that?” he asked.

“The chief is retiring and they’re feeling me out for his job.”

“Good Lord, I’m speechless,” he said.

“So was I and I haven’t been able to sleep a wink thinking about it,” she said.

“Well,” Matt said, “You’d make a fine chief but it’s not what you’ve been working for all of these years.”

“I love the law Matt but the higher I climb, the more I must distance myself from people to appear impartial and above human concern.”

“Justice is blind,” Matt said.

“Exactly,” she agreed, “A matter of principle and not human concern.”

“You’re able to do it Beth and remain warm and human,” he said.

“My question is, do I want to?” she asked. “Taking the federal position also means relocating to the capital and leaving my home, my family, friends, and parish,” she said.

Matt thought for a moment, “But don’t forget the chief’s job requires playing with the politicians and getting down and dirty sometimes. A power game,” he said.

“I know,” she said, “If I deploy my manpower properly I’ll get calls from the mayor and other powerful people to move more men to their bailiwick and away from the poorer less influential areas of the city.”

“It comes with the territory, Beth; do you want the headaches included in the job?”

She sighed, “Lots to think about,” she said.

“I can’t really tell you what to do Beth the chief’s job would be tougher, with more headaches, and more playing with the power people. More concern about keeping your job.”

“And the federal judgeship would be distant, clean, and impartial,” she said.

He smiled, “I guess it depends on what you want to accomplish and deciding if you can weather the storm and accomplish something as chief.”

Beth called the number the chief gave her and made an appointment with the commissioner for the next day. He said it would be a long lunch meeting and she was to meet him at his office at twelve thirty.

That afternoon she watched the news and heard that an attempted drive by shooting had occurred at the school the Juarez children attended.

She called Stella immediately. 

“Stella this is Beth, I just saw the news, are the boys all right?” she asked.

“Beth all of the parents are so worried but we don’t know what to do,” she said, “And we are all afraid.”

“Have you talked to Father Sanchez?” she asked.

“The church?” Stella asked.

“It’s a place to start Stella and he’s very interested in the children of the parish.  Let me give him a call and see if he can do anything to help,” Beth said.

“Thank you, Beth,” Stella said.

Judge Able called Father Sanchez and left a message for him to call her as soon as possible.

When the priest called later that afternoon Beth said she was calling about the school shooting and asked the priest if the church was concerned about gang activity in the schools.

“Of course, we are concerned,” the priest said, “Do you have an idea judge?”

“Father, the congregation is paying to maintain a gym that isn’t being used and a beautiful field where the children could play soccer and other organized games. We need supervised after school activities for the children,” she said.

“Where would we get the personnel for this venture?” the priest asked.

“Issue a challenge to the congregation from the pulpit on Sunday and put a notice in the bulletin for volunteers for an after school program.  Call for a meeting in the evening next week to speak with the parents.”

“It would be a huge undertaking and change the direction of the church in our community,” the priest said.

“Father the church must be relevant to today’s needs.  What are we doing for our children and young parents?”

The priest smiled to himself.  If the judge had made up her mind many things could be accomplished.  “I’ll get back to you in a day or so judge,” he said.

“Thank you father,” she said.

When she finished talking to the father she sat down and wrote a letter to the diocese complaining about the lack of after school activities for the children and lamenting all of the facilities that the congregation supported that weren’t being used.  She said the church must be more relevant in today’s world and faxed it over to the diocese.

After sending that letter she fired off a letter to the editor of the newspaper and faxed it off to the Evening Standard.  That accomplished she made ice tea and sat on her back patio to think.

There was a nice breeze in her garden and she slipped her shoes off and watched the humming birds dart from flower to flower and listened to the other birds chattering in the trees.  Her cat joined her and curled up on the lounger next to her for a nap. 

She relaxed and thought about the two jobs.  Clearly my heart and my home are here she thought and I don’t have any desire to relocate to the big city.  Would the Commissioner accept her activist style of running the police department and her theories about the deployment of personnel to deal with crime where it happened and not just prevent it in the wealthier areas? She would thrash it out with him tomorrow she decided.  Decision made she dozed off in the warm breeze.

© 2013 by Karen MacEanruig