Politics & Prejudice Ch. 01

The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Part 1 - Prologue

Tuesday, May 17th. It was a second straight beautiful Spring day: cool in the morning, warm but not too hot in the afternoon, sunshine with just a few clouds in the sky. At 9:30am, I was driving to the University campus in my Police SUV, having just come out of a meeting with John Colby and Dagmar Schoen, both of the Town & County Council.

"They're going to do it tonight." said Colby, as we met in his business office on the north side of Town. "They're going to use eminent domain to condemn the Junction Station Depot, then sell it to Thomas P. Cook's company so he can put a hotel on the property."

"We've gone to the Press." said Schoen, "and they openly told us they won't cover the story, nor anything that might hurt Thomas P. Cook politically. I can understand KSTD doing that, but not KXTC."

"Did you talk to the owner of KXTC, one Todd Burke?" I asked.

"Yes, I did." said Colby. "Todd was polite, but he said he didn't want to dictate to KXTC what news to cover and not cover. Right now the Federal Government is really throwing their weight around, pushing against news outlets and trying to dictate what the Media can and cannot cover. To an extent, they can't stop the Media completely, but when you watch how the Media, even Fox Cable, won't cover certain scandals, won't ask certain very obvious questions publicly, and do this for both political parties that are in bed with each other, you see what the issue is. They tried to shut down The Drudge Report, and that was the Establishment Republicans doing it. So I can understand Mr. Burke's reticence to get involved."

"I see. The usual suspects at work, here." I said. "Okay, I'll see if I can unleash the nuclear bomb against Thomas P. Cook, at least about the Junction Station Depot."

As I drove down College Avenue, the dispatcher on Police radio said something about vandals at First Baptist Church. I headed on over.

First Baptist Church's main front doors face south and face College Avenue. The building then stretches north, the old Chapel part facing north and Elm Street, which becomes the northern line of the Courthouse Square (College Avenue is the southern line, and Riverside Drive the western border). I came up along Elm towards the Bus Station, seeing a Police cruiser already parked in the Church's back parking lot.

"Well, hello, Commander." said Sergeant Rudistan with great joviality. He and Sr. Patrolman Morton had just apprehended two ten year old boys, Davie Marsdon, and Timmy Austin. Davie was something of a troublemaker, and Timmy was a follower. "We just found these two boys trying to get under First Baptist Church."

"I'd say you caught them coming out, from the looks of the dirt on their pants." I said. the boys grew wide-eyed as they realized who they were now dealing with. "And I see that Davie Marsdon is one of the boys."

"The usual suspect in a case like this." said Rudistan jovially. He'd 'handled' cases involving Marsdon a few times before.

"Okay, guys," I said, "I'll handle this one. Y'all can hang loose in your car while I talk with these guys on this bench here." I had the boys sit down on a bench on the church lawn.

"Okay, boys," I said, "less than one week out of school, and you're already in trouble with me. So why are you prowling around inside a church? It's a good thing Pastor Westboro is out of Town. God Himself might be watching you, though."

"We weren't going to hurt anything, Mr. Crowbar. Honest!" said Davie Marsdon. "We weren't going to steal anything, either."

"So why were you in there?" I asked.

"We were just looking around, exploring." said Timmy Austin. He had blonde hair, sort of ash-blonde like Henry Wargrave's hair had been. No facial resemblance, though.

"So how did you get in there?" I asked.

"There's a secret passage." said Davie in a conspiratorial voice.

"Okay, show me." I said. We went to the west side wall of the church, where the Fellowship Hall was the 2nd floor, and offices underneath. Davie showed me where what looked like a panel of the foundational wall was really a concealed door. The plank moved back enough to let them through.

I peered inside with my flashlight and saw where some ground was dug out. Just above was the floor with pipes coming through.

"Okay, I see what this is." I said. "The main heating unit is just above there. They used this door to get to it when they installed it, and left it in case they had to go under there and fix it."

"Yes sir." said Timmy. "There's a hole that we climbed through, up into the Utility Room. Then we just went out the door to the hallway."

"Okay." I said. "Boys, I want you to do me two favors. First, promise me you will not trespass this way into the church again. If you make that promise, I won't have to say anything to your parents." The boys promised.

"Second," I said, "don't tell anyone else about this... unless I ask you to. Okay?"

"Yes sir." both boys said simultaneously.

"Okay, you two move along, and don't give my officers any more trouble, y'hear?" The boys got out of there as fast as their legs would carry them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

My next stop was the office of my favorite University Professor, and the most beautiful woman in the world, at least to my biased opinion. I had called ahead, and Laura was expecting me. The kids were in the back room.

I explained the situation with the Junction Station Depot. "I think I have an idea how to stop Thomas P. Cook cold on that one." I said. "That is, if you wouldn't mind pulling a few strings really hard for me."

"Oh, that will be no problem, Darling." Laura said. She made a few phone calls...

Part 2 - First Salvo

The public session of the Town & County Council meeting was going on at City Hall, with Pastor Westboro's absence excused. First the lawsuits against the County were served and processed; this was usually just a formality. Then citizens would address the Council on certain issues. Then the Council would take up certain bills, with some debate. Everyone who was anyone knew that the real debates had already occurred.

So when a very tall redheaded man in a suit and tie approached the podium to address the Council publicly, there was more than a few surprised people.

"My name is Donald Troy." I said. "I am here--"

"With respect, Commander Troy," said the Mayor, "as the Police Commander, you hardly need to approach the Council this way. I would gladly have taken your phone call..."

"Thank you, Mr. Mayor." I said. "I am here simply as a Citizen today, and also as a representative of the Town & County Historical Society, as Mrs. Myrtle James's stand-in. Unfortunately, Mrs. James is feeling a bit under the weather.

"We're sorry to hear that." said Jack Colby. "So what do you have for us, Commander?"

I said " I am here to formally serve this notice from the National Park Service of the Federal Government. They are formally considering placing the Junction Station Depot on the National Register of Historic Places. As such, it will have to be preserved, and so any plans to sell it, or condemn it under eminent domain would be met with a Federal Court issuing a stay enjoining such action, until the Park Service has made its determination." The formal paper was served.

I could see out of the corner of my eye that Thomas P. Cook and Kelly Carnes were both looking at me with faces that betrayed their pure hatred. By way of contrast, Dagmar Schoen could hardly keep from laughing, and she could not hide a huge grin.

"Well, that's very interesting." said the Mayor, also with something of a grin on his face. "It would be of great historical import for our County if the Depot were indeed so honored. Thank you for bringing this to us, Commander."

With that, I left. Interestingly enough, the scheduled vote on the Junction Station Depot was not brought up.

"Let us retire now into executive session," said the Mayor, "to hear other business involving County personnel..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"How in the world..." he said as he sipped his drink.

"Sir?" asked the lovely Sinon, also sipping the rare and expensive sherry that he had shared with her.

"How in the world was that man able to not only find out about the takeover of the Depot, but to stop it that quickly by having the Federal Government put it on the National Register of Historic Places?"

"They're just considering it, sir."

"No, no, they're pretending to take time with it, but I happen to know it's going to happen." he said. He shook his head. "He's starting to get ahead of us now, to anticipate us. That's very, very bad."

"Maybe he was just lucky this time." the lovely Sinon said. "Colby and Schoen told him about it; he has plenty of contacts in the Federal Government, including the one he sleeps with every night; so he stops us in our tracks before we could move on it."

"Maybe." he said. "And then there's what happened to Sharples. My God, what a brilliantly neat trap. Sharples headed to possible execution, Dick Ferrell needing my help to avoid being prosecuted himself, and Jack Lewis on the verge of being annihilated in the Election in November."

"You won't hear me complaining about that one. About Sharples, that is." said the lovely Sinon.

"No, he was a fat buffoon, and it's good he's out of our way." he said.

"Do you not fear what Sharples might say about you?" she asked.

"Harrumph." he said. "Sharples knows little. He can't harm me. In fact, it would almost be better if he did say something. Then all of the work done by the Iron Crowbar to put me in the dock... will be for nothing. I'll slip out of his nets, and *POOF!* be gone..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, my personal cellphone rang. Bowser barked angrily, despite my reassurances that it was not an intruder alert at the Cabin.

"Troy." I said as I answered it.

"This is Jack Colby." said Colby. "I wanted to give you a heads-up. The Junction Station Depot might've been a feint. They pulled a surprise on us in the executive session... they voted to sell the property the Community Center is on..."

Part 3 - Pushback

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" shouted the lovely reporter from in front of City Hall at 7:00am, Wednesday, May 18th. "Channel Two News has learned that a plan by the Town & County Council to condemn the historic Junction Station Depot by eminent domain, and sell it to Northwest Properties Development Corporation, was stymied when the National Park Service served notice that the Depot is a candidate to be placed on the National Register of Historic Places. With that knowledge, the Council took no action last night. However, they did vote to consider selling the Community Center property."

"In other news, our competitor KSTD filed a lawsuit against the Police Department after their credentials were pulled and they were denied access to Police Headquarters and all Police properties. Legal experts are evenly divided on who will prevail in this matter."

"And in political news," said Bettina, her smile fading somewhat, "with the news of the attempted murder of a Police Officer by SBI Agent 'Sergeant' Sharples, the overall trust of the People in the SBI has fallen to a low of 27%, according to Karl Frazier of Public Policy Polling. This is beginning to affect the race for Governor, as Val Jared has taken a 50-42 lead over SBI Director Jack Lewis. In local races, District Attorney Gil Krasney holds a 51-47 lead over challenger Jenna Stiles."

"Wow," said Cindy as she and I headed back to my office after the newscast, "an SBI Agent tries to murder you, and Jack Lewis is still even alive in this race?"

"I'll make a prediction." I said. "As people forget about this in the next month, Lewis's numbers will go back up. He may even win the race."

"Well," Cindy said, "at least Jenna is still holding on, so far." Her eyes showed that she was mentally far away from here.

"Have you seen her or talked to her lately?" I asked. Cindy shook her head 'no'.

"She's either in her campaign office, or meeting with potential donors, or giving speeches." Cindy said. "I took her some of your mom's medicinal soup, as she looked like she was not eating well. I think it helped; her next speech was pretty fiery. But we didn't get to talk... and I don't think she really wanted to."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Dagmar Schoen walked across Courthouse Square, she saw Thomas P. Cook coming seemingly out of nowhere and essentially chase her down.

"I want to talk to you." Cook snarled.

"Make an appointment with my office." said Schoen. She attempted to walk around Cook, but he moved to block her path.

"I'm going to tell you something, bitch." he said. "You keep fucking with my plans, and something ugly is going to happen to you."

"Is that a threat?" Dagmar asked.

"You damn straight it is." Cook said, his face ugly, his voice filled with menace. "I'm tired of little whores like you trying to stop my good and legal business ventures. You think you're playing it straight, you think you're playing it high and mighty like the Iron Crowbar, but you're going to find out what's real."

"We're done here." Schoen said, again trying to move past Cook. He again blocked her path, and all but pushed her back.

"We're done when *I* say we're done, you little whore." Cook hissed. "Let me tell you something; I've got the goods on you and Colby. All the neat pictures of you and him fucking around on your spouses. Now you better start behaving, or your husband will get a copy of those pictures..."

Dagmar tried again to move around Cook. When he moved to block her, she yelled at the top of her lungs "GET OUT OF MY WAY! THIS MAN IS BLOCKING MY PATH! CALL THE POLICE!"

"You fucking idiot bitch---" Cook started, but he noticed that twelve old people had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and were beginning to surround him and Dagmar.

"Is there a problem here, Mrs. Schoen?" asked Mrs. Williams.

"Yes, this man is accosting me and won't let me through." said Schoen.

"I would suggest, Mr. Cook, that you stop harassing Mrs. Schoen," ordered Mrs. Veasley, wheeling up at high speed in her wheelchair, "or there will be serious trouble."

"And what are you going to do from that wheelchair, you old bitch?" snarled Cook. He seemed ready for physical violence.

Suddenly everything seemed to get quiet. Cook turned around to see someone who was not wheelchair-bound, was well-armed with a red crowbar, and had a badge to back it up.

"Is there a problem here, Colonel Veasley?" I asked, using Mrs. Veasley's old Army rank; she'd had to retire as a Lieutenant Colonel with her war wounds.

"No, there's no problem here, Troy." said Cook, trying to wrest control of the situation away from me. "Shouldn't you be at work catching criminals instead of hanging around the Square with these old farts?"

"I *am* at work, catching one criminal right now." I said. "Physically assaulting Ms. Schoen is bad enough. Using your Council seat and eminent domain to get sweetheart deals to enrich your own pockets... that's corruption, and really bad. I don't like corrupt politicians, Mr. Cook."

"You tell him, Iron Crowbar!" shouted one old man that had come up in a wheelchair. He was a war veteran, and he looked like he could use that cane of his as a weapon as formidable as a crowbar.

"Are you accusing me of a crime?" growled Cook. "You better have some damn solid proof of that, or I will barbecue your ass!"

"Believe me, Mr. Cook." I said. "Your day of reckoning is near. And if I hear even a whisper of something happening to Ms. Schoen, then I'm going to beat you down with this crowbar and ask questions about it later. Ohhhhh, I almost forgot... yesssss... there's that little trick you pulled in executive session, voting to put up the Community Center property for sale."

"What?!?!" came a chorus of old people.

"Oh yeah, tell them about that, Cook." I said. "And how you tried to do it secretly, too. Ms. Schoen voted against it, but you pushed it hard and the others voted for it."

"If you know about that, you and someone have broken the law." said Cook. "What's in executive session is secret."

"Bullshit." said Dagmar Schoen. "It's part of the public record; only personnel names are redacted. And that should not have been in executive session, anyway."

"We'll see." said Cook. "As for you, Troy, you mind your own fucking business, or you won't be employed here any longer."

"Is that a promise for me to hold you to, or a threat to be ignored?" I asked. The red crowbar was tapping in my hand. Cook was stymied, and he walked away from me, towards City Hall. The old people were laughing as Dagmar thanked me.

"Keep your eyes peeled and your head on a swivel." I told her. "Tell Colby that, too; Cook is like a cornered, wounded tiger. There is no telling what he will permit himself to do."

"And thank you, ladies and gentlemen." said Dagmar.

"Think nothing of it." said Mrs. Veasley. "We are always ready to help young ladies from bad men. But is it true about the Community Center property?"

"Yes." I said. "But don't worry, I have ideas for stopping that. And I do think you for standing up for Councilwoman Schoen." I was looking at the old man who had wheeled, up, seeing his American Legion hat.

"Mr. Davis," I said to the ancient man in the wheelchair, "weren't you one of the Paratroopers that jumped behind the lines on D-Day?"

"Aw, that's nothing." he growled dismissively. "I've forgotten about all that stuff."

"I haven't." I said. I brought my hand up to the brim of my hat in a crisp salute. "All the way and then some, Paratrooper Davis!"

The parakeets fluttered as Mr. Davis returned the salute. "Airborne, Paratrooper Troy!" he said. "I can tell you are a man who respects what soldiers do." He then extended his hand and I shook it.

"I was one, once. " I said. "Didn't have to do what you did, though. Why don't we go to the Community Center. I want to hear about that day."

"Well, I'll tell you about it." said Mr. Davis. We went to the Community Center, Dagmar Schoen making sure to come and hear this, as well as all of Mr. Davis's elderly friends. He never talked about his war experiences, but for the next two hours we listened with avid attention to some serious history from the perspective of one of its participants...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"There sure are a lot of old people out there." he said as he finished his salad at a bistro on the south side of Courthouse Square.

"Yes, there are." said Katherine Woodburn, sitting with him, looking through the glass of the shop. "The weather's getting better, so they come out of their little Community Center and hang out on the Square."

"There were a lot this morning, too." he said. "Sprang out of nowhere at the first sign of an altercation, had it surrounded in no time. Do you not find that interesting, Senator?"

"I was more interested in knowing that the Iron Crowbar showed up with amazing speed." said Katherine. "Seemed to be very ready to start some trouble, too."

"Yezzzz..." he said. "Well, I shall take even greater delight in kicking their ancient arses out of the Community Center, and selling that property for a lot of money... or developing it for even more money."