[Lady Justice 07] - Lady Justice and the Vigilante

by Robert Thornhill

  “You seriously think you’re gonna take me in? Look around, cop!”

  The twenty or so bikers, resplendent in their leather, bandannas and chains had formed a big circle around the two.

  A big fellow with a skullcap and greasy ponytail shouted, “Really, Marvin? You need our help to take down this scrawny cop?”

  Blackie realized he was being baited and rose to the occasion. “Hell no! I’ll pulverize the little punk!”

  And without a moment’s hesitation, he leaped forward and swung a fist as big as a ham directly at the head of the officer.

  The officer ducked under Blackie’s roundhouse and buried a fist into his flabby midsection.

  The sound of the wind leaving the massive body echoed through the lounge quieting the laughter of the rowdy bikers.

  Blackie grabbed his gut and staggered forward just as the officer planted a foot squarely into his crotch.

  “Ohhhh, that’s gotta hurt,” Ox whispered.

  The whimpering Blackie was obviously in a great deal of pain as he dropped to his knees.

  The officer was on him in a flash and pushed him to the floor and was in the process of pulling his hands from his groin to apply the cuffs when the circle of bikers began to close in.

  I saw that the situation had taken an ugly turn. “Oh no! This doesn’t look good.”

  “Time to make our presence known,” Ox replied.

  In a booming voice that startled everyone in the room, including me, Ox bellowed, “Back off scumbags, unless you want to spend the afternoon downtown in lockup.”

  The bikers, seeing two more cops with their hands resting on their holstered weapons, began to back away.

  Ox pulled his radio and held it high. “I’m calling for backup. In five minutes this place will be crawling with cops. I’m guessing Blackie wasn’t the only guy in this room with an outstanding warrant. We’ll have enough wagons to take you all in. My advice would be to clear out as fast as you can.”

  The bikers didn’t need a second invitation. They bolted for the door and the rumble of the big Harleys coming to life and roaring down Prospect sounded like a summer thunderstorm.

  When the room had cleared, the officer was pulling poor Blackie, who was still reeling from the nutcracker, to his feet.

  “Nice work Officer --- uhhh,” I said as we approached.

  “DeMarco --- Judy DeMarco,” she said turning in our direction.

  We both stopped in our tracks and our mouths dropped open.

  She removed her hat to wipe the beads of perspiration from her forehead and a mane of auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders.

  Her high cheekbones, bright brown eyes and silky skin reminded me of a young Sophia Loren.

  “Thanks for the backup. That might have gotten unpleasant if you guys hadn’t shown up.”

  I was the first to find my tongue.

  Ox just stood there staring like an idiot.

  “What were you doing here by yourself? Where’s your partner?”

  “Frank got the squirts. I think maybe he got a hold of a bad tamale for lunch. I had to take him back to the station.

  “The duty officer tried to find someone to ride with me, but no one was around. I just had a few more hours on my shift, so what the heck.”

  “So how did you end up in here?”

  “I was cruising Linwood when I spotted this creep,” she said, smacking Blackie in the back of the head.

  “I thought there was a warrant out on him and dispatch confirmed, so I tailed him to the bar.

  “Probably should have called for backup. I’ll know better next time.”

  “You handle yourself pretty well.”

  “For a girl --- is that what you mean?”

  “No, no. I meant no disrespect.”

  “I hear you. I get that all the time. I was the only girl with four older brothers. It was like the old Johnny Cash song, A Boy Named Sue. I had to either get tough or die.”

  She looked at Ox who was still just standing there staring with a silly grin on his face. “What’s with your partner here? One minute he’s scaring the shit out of a roomful of assholes and now all of a sudden he’s deaf and dumb?”

  “Ox!” I said, elbowing him in the ribs.

  “Uhhh --- uhhh,” was all he could manage.

  “I have an idea,” I said. “You’ve got to get Blackie back to the station and I don’t think you should ride alone. How about Ox riding with you and I’ll finish the shift by myself.”

  A look of abject terror spread across Ox’s face and he started to shake his head.

  Before he could respond, DeMarco winked at me and replied, “That would be great. This creep won’t try anything with Mr. Tough Guy riding along.”

  I helped herd Blackie into the back of the cruiser and watched them drive away.

  Ox still hadn’t uttered a word.

  I was hoping for a quiet evening at home but when I pulled up in front of my apartment building, I realized that just wasn’t going to happen.

  I live in a three story building on Armour Boulevard.

  It originally was composed of two, two bedroom apartments on each floor.

  This past year, I remodeled the whole top floor, making it one huge apartment for my new wife, Maggie, and me.

  The other four apartments and a basement kitchenette are occupied by a strange assortment of individuals who I consider to be my closest friends and family.

  All of them were huddled together on the front stoop.

  My eighty-eight year old father was the first to speak as I trudged up the sidewalk.

  “Sonny! Did you hear about the creep that was acquitted of the rape and break-in a few weeks ago?”

  I’d heard about him, all right.

  The guy had walked out of the courtroom a free man because a cop had screwed up.

  It was a publicity nightmare. The press had been all over the case like a duck on a June bug and the department’s reputation had taken a big hit.

  Officer Dwayne Bellows was on administrative leave and word had come from the mayor’s office that EVERYONE was to be reminded of proper investigative procedures.

  Consequently, every officer had been required to spend remedial time at the academy.

  “What about the guy?” I asked. “What has he done now?”

  “He got himself shot, that’s what.” Dad replied.

  Ox and I had been cruising all day and I didn’t waste any time getting away from the station after completion of my shift, so this was certainly news to me.

  “The bastard got what was coming to him. Anyone who rapes a woman in front of her husband deserves to die!”

  That vindictive remark came from the lips of eighty-six year old Bernice Crenshaw, another long-time tenant and my dad’s current love interest.

  “Gosh, Bernice! Tell us how you really feel.” As always, Jerry Singer, or ‘Jerry The Joker’ as we call our resident funny man, was ready with a quip or a zinger.

  “Get over here and I’ll do more than tell you how I feel,” she shot back. “You just don’t joke about rape!”

  “Sorry,” Jerry replied with genuine sincerity. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “So what happened?” I asked. “How about some details?”

  My old friend and resident, Professor Leopold Skinner spoke up.

  “LeShawn Grimes’ body was found early this morning in front of his mother’s apartment building at Twelfth and Paseo.

  “He had one gunshot wound in his chest.”

  “Do they know who shot him? Are there any suspects?”

  It was Willie’s turn to contribute to the conversation.

  “Dat’s one rough neighborhood. Dey’s drugs, prostitution, guns --- ever’ting over dere. Lots o’ people been shot dere. It coudda been anybody.”

  Willie Duncan would know.

  Before he became the maintenance man for my apartments, he had been a con man and roamed those very streets.

  He had turned his life around and was now one
of my closest friends.

  “So what do you think?” Dad asked.

  “What do I think about what?”

  “The guy getting whacked. You’re a cop. What do you think?”

  “I think I’ve been working all day and I’m dog tired. I think I need to kiss my wife and sit down with a glass of Arbor Mist. As far as LeShawn Grimes is concerned, I don’t think anything. It’s not my case.”

  “Sheesh. I was just asking.”

  As I climbed the stairs to the third floor, I realized that what I had just said was not exactly true.

  While I hated the fact that our city had suffered another homicide, way down deep inside I was glad that LeShawn Grimes was dead.

  Maggie met me at the door.

  After both of us living the single life for sixty-seven years, we tied the knot about six months ago.

  We had been a ‘couple’ for many years and it finally dawned on us that there was so much more to gain by being married.

  We had worked together at City Wide Realty until I hung up the old briefcase and got the wild hair to become a cop at the ripe old age of sixty-five.

  Not many women could have or would have put up with such nonsense, but Maggie had supported me all the way.

  “I see you passed though the gauntlet,” she said, giving me a big hug and kiss.

  “Yeah, everyone seems to be hyped up about this Grimes thing. I hadn’t heard a word until I was surrounded by the Five Stooges down there.”

  “I’m surprised. It’s all over the news.”

  “I’m sure I’ll hear all about it at squad meeting tomorrow.”

  “So how was your day? Anything exciting?”

  “Not really, other than Ox being smitten.”

  “Smitten! Is he okay?”

  “No, no! Not like that. Smitten --- you know --- like in the romantic sense. I think Ox is in love.”

  Maggie broke into a big grin. “Tell me all about it.”

  After I shared the events at the Tool Shed Lounge, we compared notes on what we knew of Ox’s love life.

  Not much.

  Ox was in his mid-forties; a twenty-four year veteran of the force and to my knowledge had never been within spitting distance of matrimony.

  The big galoot was like a cuddly teddy bear until he got riled at which point he became a grizzly.

  He was, by nature, a gentle, caring man and would have made some lucky girl a good husband.

  Since I had known him, the closest Ox had come to a relationship was last summer.

  I noted that we had been eating at Denny’s more frequently than usual.

  Then it dawned on me --- Ox was sweet on the waitress.

  He finally worked up the nerve to ask her on a double date with Maggie and me. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out all that well.

  We wound up being pursued by a religious nut in a humongous pick-up who tried to run us off the road.

  After a high-speed chase over the Southwest Trafficway overpass, we managed to elude our pursuer, but Ox’s poor date had been so frightened, she peed her pants.

  On the way to her home, Ox asked if he could call her again, and to this day, I remember her words, “Ox, you’re a great guy and I like you a lot, but your dates are just a little too intense for me. I think I’ll pass.”

  I couldn’t believe that any date would be too intense for Judy DeMarco.

  “I hope this works out for Ox,” I said. “I want him to know the same joy I feel every day with you.”

  I figured a few brownie points couldn’t hurt.

  “You’re such a schmuck!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Ed Jacobs was glued to his TV set.

  Every channel was carrying the story of the death of the villain who had escaped justice through a loophole in the law.

  Eager reporters interviewed citizens on the street for their reaction and every one of them echoed the same sentiment. “He got what was coming to him.”

  The lone dissenter was LeShawn Grimes’ mother.

  Her hysterics filled the screen and she just kept screaming over and over, “My baby! My baby! Someone shot my baby!”

  One reporter caught Grimes’ defense attorney, Suzanne Romero, exiting the courthouse and shoved a camera in her face.

  Her demeanor was the same as in the courtroom, stony and cold and she brushed by the reporter with a “No comment!”

  The police department had held a press conference and in their usual fashion said a lot of words without really saying anything at all.

  The official position was that they were treating this case no differently than any other homicide and that the department, as usual, was committed to solving all open cases.

  At the moment there were no suspects or persons of interest and the motive for the slaying was unknown.

  Ed had seen the news vans cluttering the streets in front of the Martin’s home and was not surprised to see the faces of his friends on the tube.

  Ron and Beth Martin were on the step in front of their home. Ron had his arm around his wife holding her close.

  The reporters fired a barrage of questions their way and Ron simply raised his hand to silence them.

  He had obviously been expecting this moment to come.

  “We knew when we heard of the death of LeShawn Grimes that you people would be paying us a visit.

  “We’re not going to answer any questions, but we have prepared a statement for you.”

  He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and began to read.

  “The events of the past few months have changed our family forever.

  “No one --- my wife, my daughter, myself --- will ever fully recover from the horror we experienced on the night of June 25th.

  “The tragedy was compounded further when the man who brought this misery to our door walked away a free man.

  “I’m sure you want to know what we’re feeling today. First, we’re feeling regret that this incident ever happened and anger that the perpetrator escaped punishment for his crimes.

  “I would be less than honest with you if I denied that today we also feel a great sense of relief that this man will no longer be a threat to either my family or someone else’s.

  “We want to extend our sympathy to LeShawn Grimes’ mother. We can certainly relate to the pain she is feeling today.

  “With this turn of events, it is my hope that our family can now put this horrible chapter behind us and get on with our lives.

  “Thank you.”

  Ed Jacobs turned off the TV and sat in silence, contemplating what he had just seen.

  During the planning phase of Grimes’ death, he was so filled, first with rage and then resolve, he was convinced that what he was doing was right.

  On the day of the actual event, he was riding the high that was induced by excitement, fear and adrenalin.

  Secretly, he wondered if after the deed was done and the adrenalin had dissipated, when he faced the cold reality that he had taken the life of another human being, he would be wracked with regret and remorse.

  The time had come to face that reality.

  After seeing the relief of Ron and Beth Martin and hearing the remarks from the citizens on the street, he realized that what he was feeling was not unlike the time he and Martha had purchased food and clothing for a needy family and donated them anonymously.

  It was a feeling of accomplishment; a feeling of giving and expecting nothing in return; it was a feeling of making someone’s life better as a result of your actions.

  He liked the feeling.

  Now it was decision time.

  Was this to be an isolated event that had served its purpose or maybe something more --- maybe the beginning of a new phase in the life of Ed Jacobs?

  He thought about his existence before ‘the event’.

  He was retired, he was alone and his life had no purpose or meaning.

  He just existed --- was just treading water.

  Since the first day ‘the event’ began to take shape in
his mind, he had greeted each new day with enthusiasm and felt a sense of urgency and fulfillment that he hadn’t felt for years.

  He recalled a comic strip from the morning’s Kansas City Star.

  A grandmotherly woman was speaking to her granddaughter and said, “People all over the world are in need and I’m at an age where I can help out a little.”

  The youngster responded with, “Yeah, old age!”

  The senior’s reply was, “Yup! Lots to give, not much to lose!”

  That was what Ed Jacobs was feeling.

  Lots to give, not much to lose.

  Reading the Star every morning also gave Ed the realization that he would never have to look very far to find the next piece of human garbage that needed to be dumped.

  Every day there was page after page reporting murders, rapes and carjacking.

  The perps were like cockroaches that roam the streets at night defiling the lives of the innocent people they touch, and like the cockroaches, they needed to be exterminated.

  Lots to do, not much to lose.

  Ed Jacobs was ready to get to work.

  CHAPTER 4

  As I had suspected, the main topic of discussion at squad meeting the next morning was the shooting of LeShawn Grimes.

  Captain Short brought us up to date.

  “This Grimes thing has turned into a media circus.

  “The press hung us out to dry because we blew the investigation and let Grimes slip through the cracks.

  “Now someone has offed the guy and everyone in town, except his mother, is saying ‘good riddance’.

  “It’s still a homicide and we must still investigate. The best way to put this thing to bed is to find the shooter ASAP, and hope to God it was a drug deal gone bad or the work of a gang banger.”

  Officer Dooley raised his hand, “So are you ruling out the possibility that it’s connected to someone associated with the trial?”

  “We’re not ruling out anything at this point.

  “Our first suspect was, of course, Ronald Martin, the victim. The Medical Examiner puts the time of death between midnight and three a.m. According to Beth Martin’s mother who had been staying with them during the ordeal, all the family were at home all night.”