Dark Side of the Force Ch. 01

"Just one thing, guys." Cindy said. "Teresa, will you bring me that package?" Teresa brought up the long wad of newspaper. Cindy reached into the cavity at the end of it.

"This was my arts and crafts from the other night at the high school." Cindy said. "It seems that one Mycroft Holmes figured out what you might do, and she had me make this." Cindy pulled out a crowbar, just slightly longer and thicker than the blue one. It was painted solid red, one of the colors of my School. On one end was etched 'I C 2'.

"There will always be only one true Iron Crowbar, and that is the original." Cindy said, handing me the red crowbar.

"Can't get past my mom, eh?" I whispered to Cindy. She just nodded as as we crossed crowbars like swords. Then I heard an "Ahem!' from the back. It was the Chief, who had snuck in to watch the proceedings.

"Okay, everyone, there is breakfast in the main conference room for all of you." said the Chief. "After you eat, Crowbar 1 and Crowbar 2 report to my office."

As we went down the hall, I examined my new crowbar. It felt 'just right' in my hands. And I really liked that it had been made from the metal that had been used to smite down the evil Reverend Jonas Oldeeds. I wondered who the first person to be on the receiving end of my wrath with this crowbar would be. Turns out, I did not have long to find out.

Part 5 - Dog Abuse

Would you like to know how to really infuriate the Iron Crowbar? Just abuse a dog or cat in my presence.

On the night of August 8th, I was called to a home in a lower-middle-income neighborhood just south of the Downtown district. I noted some trash on the lawn as I went up the walkway. It was just two steps up to the front porch, then into the home.

There was a rancid smell inside, and the home was filthy. I saw Cindy Ross, Claire Michaels and Lorena Rose. They all looked disgusted and sick.

"Backyard." I heard Ross say. I went out there, where two Animal Control officers from the Public Health Department were. They were wearing black shirts with "ANIMAL CONTROL" on the back, khaki tan pants, and they had badges just like ours, except they had the Public Health seal in the center of their badges, while Police, Fire and EMT had a common Public Safety seal in ours.

"Twenty dogs in very bad shape." said the woman I was talking to. I saw the dogs, who were sitting in baskets with towels on the bottoms, being examined by the A.C. officers. One little creature, wobbling and barely able to walk, sniffed at me and then licked my hand. I tried to fight back tears, but did not fight the anger that was welling inside of me. "I think we can save some of them, but we'll see."

"Do what you can." I said. "And you know how evidence works." The woman nodded. I headed back to the house.

"Where is the son of a bitch?" I asked.

"Bedroom." said Claire Michaels. "By the way, Commander, his name is Bryan Thatcher. Low life, has sold drugs in the past."

"Dunno what the kennel is about, but we have him on animal cruelty charges at the least." said Cindy Ross, peering at my face, noting my mood. "And before you ask, neighbors have called in the past about crying dogs, but when we got four complaints at the same time, Rudistan and Morton came to check it out, then called us in."

"I'm going to go spot-interview this suspect." I said, the look on my face leaving no doubt as to my intentions. "Leave us alone unless and until I call for you."

I went into the bedroom, where the perp was handcuffed and sitting on the bed, with Rudistan guarding him. I closed the door behind me. Bryan Thatcher had brown hair, mustache and beard, was ruggedly handsome, slender, muscular. He was wearing a wife-beater t-shirt, short jeans pants, and flip flop shoes.

"Do you want to take a walk, Rudistan, get some fresh air?"

"Hell no, sir." Rudistan said. "I'm here to help. This guy already resisted arrest once. I get the feeling he'll do it again."

"Man, I didn't resist arrest." the man said. "You fucking cops ain't got no warrant to be here. This is bullshit."

"No doubt about that." I said. Holding the red crowbar with both hands, I jabbed my right hand forward, the crowbar levering and smashing the left side of Thatcher's face...

---

"What was that?" Detective Lorena Rose said, hearing Thatcher scream out. "Do they need help?"

Cindy Ross grabbed Rose by the collar. "Don't you dare go in there unless told to." she ordered. Lorena looked shocked, then looked at Claire Michaels, who also had a stern look on her face.

---

"Aauuuugh!" cried out Thatcher as my red crowbar crashed onto the bottoms of his feet. Even through the flip flops, that one hurt.

*THWACK!* The red crowbar came down onto the backs of his thighs.

*THWACK!* A powerful blow to his asscheeks, right on the glutes.

*THWACK!* My most savage blow, right on the back beneath the shoulder blades, where the push-up muscles were. I was remembering that poor little dog that licked me as I hit Thatcher as hard as I could, even harder than I hit Sergei Molotov all those months ago.

"Okay, boss, that's plenty." said Rudistan, knowing just when enough was enough. He practically picked Thatcher up off the floor. "Stand still, fucker!" he said, then rammed his knee into Thatcher's crotch. As Thatcher doubled over in pain, I stood him up and Rudistan delivered a staggering closed-fist punch to the midsection. Thatcher doubled over, then vomited. I pushed Thatcher down again, shoving his face into his own puke.

"You fucking dog abuser." I said. "I'm going to be damn sure the general prison populace knows what you did to those dogs when you get to prison. Okay, Sarge, let's go." Rudistan and I had made sure not to use each other's real ranks and names around Thatcher. The bastard continued to resist arrest by lying prone and motionless, until I asked him if walking was preferable to more crowbar treatment. He got up.

We opened the door and pushed Thatcher forward. "He resisted arrest." I said, seeing the look on Lorena Rose's face. I began to wonder if she was going to work out as a TCPD Detective.

"I'll help you with this perp, Patrolman." said Cindy. As they took Thatcher out to the front porch, Cindy was right behind him. Just as he got to the steps to the walkway, she gave him an imperceptible push. It wasn't steep, but it was enough to send Thatcher sprawling. He landed hard on his right cheek, almost knocked unconscious by the blow.

"Damn, the shit can't even walk. Tripped on his own feet!" said Rudistan loudly. Thatcher was then taken to Headquarters for processing.

The red crowbar was broken in, 'blooded'. But not even that could assuage the pain in those dogs' eyes... nor my own.

Part 6- Police Abuse?

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" blared the lovely redhead at 7:00am the next morning. "Channel Two News is following up on the arrest of Bryan Thatcher for animal abuse last Friday night. Thatcher's lawyer is complaining that the police severely beat up Thatcher, which differs from the police reports that he resisted arrest and tripped on his own feet. Thatcher's lawyer, provided pro bono by the law firm of Chase, Berry & Lynch, is demanding an investigation of Commander Donald Troy by the State Bureau of Investigation."

"Meanwhile, the Public Health Department has stated that while 12 of the abused dogs found in Thatcher's kennel can be saved, eight of them had to be put down, so severely were they injured and malnourished." The screen showed pictures of Animal Control officers holding abused dogs. That would go over 'well' with the People; no repercussions to my Police Department, I knew. "Police Chief Griswold has stated that he has never seen such a case of abuse of animals, and DA Krasney says he will be pushing for the maximum punishment under the law. Judge Rodney K. Watts has denied Thatcher bail, which is being appealed to higher courts by Thatcher's furious attorneys..."

-----

"My fucking God, people." said Katherine Woodburn at the morning meeting of KXTC. "This was a... a huge chance to show the police abuse of Thatcher... did you see how fucked up his face was, and the bruises on his back?... and instead you show the fucking dogs. Nice going, Bettina." It was not a compliment and Bettina knew it, but she did not care. Woodburn looked around, seeing that the faces around the table had anger etched upon them... not at Bettina, but at her. She had completely lost her employees' loyalty and support over the last few months.

"All right, what are you people doing on the campaigns?" Woodburn asked. "Once August is over, it's going to really get hot in these races, so get ready. So, who wants to start?"

"Daniel Allgood has cut Harold Malone's lead down to 4-5 points." said Diane Williams. "Malone is going to be running some new ads and doing a whirlwind appearance blitz."

"Can we get him to comment on the police abuse of Thatcher?" Katherine Woodburn asked.

"He did." said Williams. "He said the Police showed remarkable restraint in arresting Thatcher after they'd seen those dogs. Malone loves dogs himself."

"Oh Jesus Christ..." said Woodburn. "All right, what about Nathan Allen's campaign?"

"They've gone into bunker mentality mode." said Bettina. "Nathan Allen was the only major politician in the area to not attend Lieutenant Ross's Medal of Valor presentation, and KSTD reported on that. KSTD is also showing Daniel Allgood footage, and their ratings are increasing."

"I don't give a shit." said Woodburn, burning with hatred for Bettina Wurtzburg for bringing that up. "None of you are to report on Daniel Allgood nor his race for Sheriff at all. The only way I'd better hear his name is if he is arrested for abusing dogs. Does everyone understand?"

Apparently they did. Everyone got up and left the room, though they had not been dismissed.

----

The sun was low in the sky on August 13th, nearly touching the northwest horizon. Bettina Wurtzburg and I were sitting on the patio of the Mountain Nest, watching the sunset and our Town as we sipped our drinks. Bettina's aunt, the gossip columnist and Society reporter Elsie Gringer, was inside with Laura and my mother. I had noticed that my mother and Elsie were getting along very well, fluttering like parakeets about gossip that I could not understand how they had come to learn.

"Your mom is great." Bettina said. "My aunt loves her. Don't tell anyone I told you this, but your mom has been a source for my aunt more than a few times. I don't know how your mom finds out that stuff, but I can't get her to give me anything juicy on you." I knew the lovely redhead was teasing me, at least about my mom dishing out dirt on me. And tonight's dinner was agreed to be totally off the record.

"My mom lived in the small town of Apple Grove for years." I said. "Women there develop skills that city women can only dream about when it comes to knowing what there is to know and juicy gossip." Bettina laughed. I suspected this was her first pleasant evening in some time. "So, what do you want to talk with me about?"

"First, congratulations again on the promotion." Bettina said. "Katherine Woodburn about had a heart attack when she heard that."

"Nathan Allen about had a worse one when he found out we'd re-hired Teresa Croyle." I said. Allen had been vociferous in his comments and threats to the Council, and I knew he was trying to get the SBI and lawyers to investigate Croyle for her attack on Dean Allen. But that was a ship that had done sailed, and Allen was told 'no joy' on it. It did not help Allen that Judge Rodney K. Watts was the judge who reviewed the case. He was no friend of the Allens.

"Yes." said Bettina. "But that is not why I'm here. Don, it's getting ugly at KXTC, and I'm not sure what to do. I used to love my job, I used to love going in and reporting stories and working with those really good people. I know you're not a fan of the Press..." (Bettina was spot-on about that, I thought to myself) "... but I love my job like you love yours. But now... Katherine has turned it into a war zone. She's gone all-in for Harold Malone, and she would be trying to save Nathan Allen except that no reporter will speak favorably of him on camera."

"So, are you telling me this just to vent?" I asked. "Or do you want me to do something about it?"

"Can you do anything?" Bettina asked, hopeful.

"There's a couple of things I might try." I said. "Let me ask this: if Katherine Woodburn were away, who would run the place?"

"Probably her vice editor, Burt West." Bettina said. "He's an efficient manager, but we'd run rings around him. I'd be the one to keep things in line for him, should I choose to do so."

"Get ready to choose to do so." I said.

----

"I'm just not sure what to do." said Lorena Rose at the Cop Bar on the same evening while Phyllis, Laura and I entertained Bettina and her aunt. "They kept telling us at the Academy, if we spotted any police abuse, to go to I.A. about it."

"Did you actually see any abuse... of the perp?" Claire Michaels asked.

"No." said Rose. "But I'm not stupid."

"Good." said Claire. "Then don't be stupid about this. You saw those poor dogs, I saw you crying about them. I had a good cry when I got home, too. Even the Commander was affected. He had a couple of shots of Scotch in his office when he got back. If the Commander and Rudistan hadn't have done something to that perp, I would have. Don merely pulled rank, as I see it."

Claire continued: "Here's the bottom line, Lorena. There is no business, no corporate business or government job, where you don't run into some line-crossing. And with the Police, you know we circle the wagons, protect and care for our own, watch each other's backs. Sometimes some rather, shall we say 'rough', arrests happen. We don't destroy the careers of brilliant police officers that have been awarded the highest decorations for something like that."

"I guess you're right." Lorena Rose said, finishing her beer.

"I'll tell you something else, something I saw on the streets of L.A." Claire said. "We're bound to a certain extent by our own agreement and desire to follow the law and do the right thing. The criminals know this, and take advantage of it... and us. Some day, you're going to find yourself in a situation where you're going to have to something they don't discuss at the Academy, or someone will have to do something for you. In time, you'll learn what's truly right and wrong, and you have to hope you don't get murdered finding out. Just keep that in mind. You have a brilliant career ahead of you. You have two of the best teachers you could have in Troy and Perlman; they are why I came here. You're still in 'learn' mode, kid."

"Don't rock the boat, huh?" Lorena said, half sarcastically.

"No, I'm not telling you that." Claire said, trying to hide her irritation. "But there's a lot you can learn from others that will make you better. Learn from those that have been there, and those that have the experience."

Claire finished her beer, wondering if her attempts to teach the fiery young Detective would work out...

Part 7- First Trespass of the Dark Side

August 14th. It was 10:00pm and Katherine Woodburn was finishing up editing a story for the newspaper. Her red grease pencil was warm with use as she made furious slashes, then wrote something on the side.

"Jesus, what else do I have to do to help Harold Malone?" she said out loud.

"You might try going to work for the Democrat Party." the voice called out. A tall man wearing a light raincoat over his suit, a full-brim hat, and holding a long red crowbar came into the office from the shadows of the door.

"Who the fuck- oh. Shit, what the fuck are you doing here?" Katherine exclaimed angrily. Her hand reached under the desk to press a button, then returned to where I could see it.

I came up to the desk, grabbed a small chair and sat it down right next to Katherine behind her desk. I sat down, uncomfortably and inappropriately close to her.

"I'm here to help you, Katherine." I said. "I'm here to help you make a choice."

"You're full of shit. If you don't have a fucking warrant, get the fuck out!" Woodburn nearly screamed.

"I can certainly get a warrant." I said. "See that gentleman at the door?" I pointed to the shadowy figure in the doorway. "That is Agent Fred Dixon of the Federal Elections Commission. He's here to arrest you. But that's my last resort; I'd sure rather play it another way, and I'm sure you would, too."

"I have no interest in dealing with you and your little red crowbar." said Katherine. "Get out, now."

"I was sorry to hear about what happened to you." I said, ignoring her. "That you were stopped by the police on your way home... that a drug dog alerted when brought to sniff your car... that a bag of cocaine large enough to have you charged for distribution of cocaine was found hidden in your car, then secreted bags of ecstasy were found-"

"I've heard all these threats before, by much better and more powerful men than you, Mr. Iron Crowbar." hissed Katherine. 'You're really clutching at straws, here."

"Yes, but once you're arrested, then others will take over operation of your station. They'll begin doing fair and balanced coverage of the election, which is all that I want to see. Fair coverage for both sides, and you can keep running your station to your heart's content. Keep up the shit, and off to jail you go."

"Bryan Thatcher." Katherine said. "Name ring a bell? You're going to get your bell rung by his lawyers and the SBI when they're done, and I'll be helping them all the way. You're not a good cop. You're a dirty bastard."

"Nice try." I said. "The public has seen those pictures of those poor dogs. The DA is mad at me, but only because he is worried about finding an impartial jury that didn't see those pictures on your newscasts.

"Now like I said, Katherine... go work with the DNC, become a political activist, whatever you want to do. But resign and sell KXTC, or on the third day it will be sold from under you after you're arrested. It's your choice. Oh, and yes... I am the dirtiest... and I have not even begun yet."

I got up and left. After I did, Katherine rushed to check the audio recording equipment she'd turned on when I'd come in. Unfortunately for her, it was all white noise.

"Damn!" Katherine swore under her breath.

"Oh, by the way," I said, returning to the room, standing in front of her desk, exhibiting a little electronic device in my hand. "This is a fun little device. Your microphones can't record shit while this is on. Time's a'wastin', Katherine. Make your choices." I left again, this time for good.

To be continued...