by Xyla Turner
“Vic, they are my truths. You cops, have your own truths and I guess you’re entitled to them but everything I just said was true. The way lower Manhattan is patrolled is definitely not the way East Harlem is patrolled. You all do wear blue and whether you’re right or wrong, y’all stick by each other. And if you don’t believe the last one, just look at the news, the killings and see how many of the cops were punished rightfully for taking a fucking life.” I paused. “Shit, I’ll wait for this answer.”
“Kat,” he sighed. “I won’t sit here and act like I fully understand your truths. I won’t because I haven’t had some of those experiences. So for instance, I patrol every place I’m stationed the same way. There are different factors to each community but the diligence I show at The Trap is the same diligence I show in SOHO. Cops are a part of a brotherhood, like any other family. I won’t sit here and say that everything that goes down is kosher. Shit, I don’t even back everything that happens, but we do have a united front. Just like any business and family for that matter. We are in life-threatening situations every goddamn day. We need to be able to trust the man behind us that has our back. Believe me, if you ever find yourself in one, you will grow a bond with that person very quickly. I’m not saying this as an excuse; I’m just giving you the other side of the story. Are cops perfect? Absolutely fucking not because we are human and unfortunately we make mistakes. I cannot speak to every instance, but the facts are this. Until you’re in a situation where you might want to take a chance on someone that could cause you harm or end your life in a blink of an eye and ride away, you’d be a little scared too.”
I was about to interject, but he held up his hand. “Now, I have seen some of the footage you’re talking about and I refrain from commenting because I don’t know the situation. There have been some questionable ones and there may have been some unacceptable ones. I’ll give you that, but I don’t know Kat. I’m torn. Cause here’s the thing. I’ve been on the force for eleven years and I’ve been doing this shit a long time. But I could easily go out here, think I see someone with a gun and draw my weapon to defend myself. He doesn’t do as I ask him but continues to approach or gets away and I fire at him and then I’m plastered on the news as a murderer. That doesn’t sit right with me. It just doesn’t.”
I nodded my head and said, “Okay, Vic. You bring up valid points. Now I have one scenario. Right here in New York, a few days ago, there was a killing that happened to a young man, named DaShawn.” His face went ashen. “The footage was released later and I want you to tell me these few things. One, do you trust that man that killed him? Two, do you want him patrolling your neighborhood? Three, would you stand by him when he makes his statement? Four, how will you feel when he’s let go for cold-blooded murder?” I sat back in my seat because I wanted to hear his thoughts.
His eyes glossed over, then he stood up, grabbed our plates and cups to take them to the kitchen.
Shit, that was when I realized he didn’t have his cast on.
“Vic, what are you doing? You need your cast.” I jumped up. “I got it.”
He kept going, so I grabbed the rest of our breakfast and brought them to the sink.
“Vic, where’s your cast?” I asked as he rinsed the dishes off with his left hand and put them in the dishwasher.
He didn’t answer me; he just focused on the dirty dishes.
“Vic,” I called.
“Kat,” he nearly growled. “Stop. Okay. I need a minute, so stop.”
O-kay.
Shit, I shouldn’t have gone there but he needed to know. He had to, but maybe not then. I turned and left the kitchen and went to my room. I’m not sure why but I probably needed a minute too.
One minute turned into five minutes and then the water stopped running and I heard footsteps coming my way.
Vic appeared in the doorway of my bedroom and said, “I’m going to leave now. Come here.”
Before I could even protest, my traitor body stood and walked to him.
“Okay,” I said. “Well, thanks for breakfast.”
With his left arm, Vic pulled me into him and said, “I’m sorry, Kat. I just…” he paused. “I can’t answer your questions right now.”
My head nodded as he stared into my eyes.
“Not now, okay?” He wanted confirmation.
“Okay,” I said.
His face descended down further and I knew what he was going to do, but I did nothing to stop it. Shit, I wanted it just as bad.
Chapter Seven
Final Words
VIC
Fuck. I wanted to go there and dammit, if she didn’t go directly there. I should have known, Kat the fearless, would not back down on that. But, for the life of me, I couldn’t answer her. I was torn with her valid issues but I was especially torn up by the last one. Honestly, what she didn’t know was that I put out a formal complaint on Sever to Internal Affairs. Brother or not, that shit was not fucking right and I heard it from the horse’s mouth. It wasn’t speculation or assumptions. He killed DaShawn because he thought he could get away with that shit. Bashing his face in was me mourning and reacting. What I wanted to do and what I would do if he ever got off, would be a whole other book and I’d be looking at some hard time.
The woman was smart and was so pointed in her argument. What could I say, ‘Oh yeah, you’re wrong and the millions of black people in the world are imaging police brutality’. I could have brought up black on black crime, but they didn’t take an oath to uphold the fucking law, protect and serve the community.
We did.
So, as I dealt with the agonizing pain of my hand not being wrapped up and the reality that I’d been missing a piece of the puzzle for the majority of my life, I was just starting to see the glitches in the matrix that I didn’t previously even know to look for. The shit was unraveling me and I knew that I really had to see someone soon because I was seconds away from quitting the force.
This led me to her room and I knew I should have left her but despite her thorns, I wanted Kat more than ever.
She was in my arms so I pressed my lips against hers to get a small taste. I knew she’d be soft and sweet but not so goddamn addictive. I took another taste, then another so my tongue was in her mouth and I explored everywhere. My body pressed hers against the doorpost and her center rotated around me, causing me to meet her movements. Kat’s hands wrapped around my neck, pulling me towards her and if my right hand had been in any shape to lift even a plate, those legs would have been wrapped around me. Instead, I bent my knees so my body lowered and I could get my fill of her sweetness. She was a wildcat and I loved every second of it, but I had to go. Had to get my shit together.
I pulled away and said “Sweetheart, I got to go.”
Our heavy breathing filled the small space in the hall.
“Right.” She nodded.
I bent down, kissed her forehead and said, “Thanks again. Goodbye.”
Letting her go, I turned around, grabbed my bag and left. I didn’t look back because God knows, I would have regretted taking her when I was in a state of such upheaval.
The Psychologist that I saw did not seem all that helpful. He just talked around me and asked me questions. He said that was what these sessions were about and I should give it a try. Not because the force was mandating me to, but because I had some real life dilemmas. I told him they weren’t mandating me and he said that they would. At least, the man could be funny. He prescribed me some sleeping pills but I didn’t get the prescriptions filled. I just tossed and turned all night. Thinking of DaShawn, Kat, the force, and whatever was left of my life.
What the fuck was I going to do?
DaShawn’s funeral was on Saturday at Mt. Ebenezer’s Baptist Church. Ms. Watson had already spoken to the press about her son, the footage, and how she just wanted justice. She insisted that I do the eulogy and sit with her. The woman thought I had a right to sit with the family and all I could think about was the last words Kat spoke to me. Would I st
and with my brothers, even when they were wrong?
Fuck.
I wish I could have said the funeral was short but it was anything but. I had heard about the black churches and the long hours, but I’d never experienced it. The viewing was at ten, the service started at eleven but we did not leave that place until two-thirty in the afternoon. I was used to the Catholics. An hour or two, max.
During the service, I held onto Ms. Watson’s hand as her frail body quivered and she wept silent tears. The song that played had almost everyone in tears. I Will Rise by Chris Tomlin.
No more sorrow, no more pain.
I will rise
Unfortunately, I had to speak right after this, which did not help matters any. To top that off, I was introduced as Officer Victor Ritter from the 81st Precinct. There were a few murmurs in the audience but nobody objected too loudly. I took the stage and spoke from my heart.
“Ms. Watson wanted me to speak today and the woman may be small but she’s fierce, so there would be no turning her down. I met her and DaShawn almost eight months ago because he was a part of the UNITE program. I won’t go into how that young man gave me hell for the first couple of months or how he came to be there in the first place. We all know that, but you see, none of those things defined Dashawn. As tough as he really was, he also didn’t let his past or current situation define him. I’m not sure about you, but that spoke volumes about his character and who he really was. We all may have had our different interactions with him, but I’ll share one of my last moments with him days before he passed away. He came to show me his report card, where he made the honor roll. He said he was so excited that he had to show me. He and I mapped out a plan for him that included him finishing high school and moving to Chicago so he could start his business. He was an entrepreneur in the making. Acing Chemistry and knocking out courses I failed because he put in the work. That’s just who he was. In whatever he did, he put in the work and in this case, I was able to share that moment with…” I paused because I needed to finish without losing my shit.
“That moment with him. He and I were from two different worlds but as we sat and ate his favorite cheesecake, he shared that he was happy. Happy about where his life was finally going. For once, I remember thinking that, for once, I was happy too. Not just for him but that I got to be a part of his happiness.”
I paused again.
“DaShawn was not a file on my desk. He wasn’t a client or statistic. He was a close friend and he thought I had some hand in his life-changing, but it was he who changed mine. I’m a different man because of him. A better one, since I’ve known him. I am a better cop. I’m just a better human. That’s who DaShawn was…a game changer. I’m going to miss my friend deeply and I know he’s resting in peace because he might not have had wings on Earth but DaShawn was my angel in disguise.
There’s no replacing that. Um, I think this was supposed to be uplifting, but I’ll be honest with you all, I’m having a hard time finding that right now. I’m sorry Ms. Watson.”
She nodded her head and mouthed, “Keep going.”
“I’m really finished. I didn’t use my notes, that was on my heart. Thanks for listening.”
People began to clap, which caused me to pause a bit, but they kept clapping. When I made it down to Ms. Watson, she hugged me for a long time and simply cried. I held her as I shared my own tears.
DaShawn was gone and he wasn’t coming back.
After the pallbearers had carried the casket down the aisle, DaShawn’s mom and I walked arm-in-arm out of the church to find reporters from every station lying in wait.
“Ms. Watson, Officer Ritter, Ms. Watson, Officer.” They yelled at us.
My plan was to keep walking but she wanted to stop, so I held on to her. The bright-eyed reporter said, “Ms. Watson, I’m so sorry for your lost. I heard the moving words by Officer Ritter here. What are your thoughts at this moment?”
Lois Watson had on all black with a black brimmed, church hat the old ladies wore with a black veil on top. She cleared her throat and said, “My thought at this moment is that I want to bury my son and then we can start the process to make sure his life and death wasn’t in vain.”
“What did you think about Officer Ritter’s words?” She hastily asked.
“If you heard them then you’d know he spoke from his heart. My son idolized him and while I know he’s grieving right now, as we all are, his words have touched and uplifted many.”
The reporter quickly pushed the microphone in front of my face and said, “What do you think about this?”
I stared at her but then Ms. Watson squeezed my arm and I knew that this was the universal way for a mom to get you to do something.
“I think that DaShawn should be honored properly and that goes way beyond any speech. One of the things that I took from his life and death is that no matter what, people shouldn’t be defined by their past. I think it also means that we can and must change.”
The reporter nodded and tried to say something else, but I cut her off and said, “We need to go.”
They kept firing questions at us and everybody that walked out, but once we were safely inside of the limousine, Ms. Watson started to cry again. Her other children came to console her as we all sat surrounded by hurt and pain.
The day after the funeral, my Sergeant called me to apologize. I almost fell out of my chair. He could be a real son of a bitch but he said that he now understood why I went off on Sever. The man also confided in me that he probably would have done the same thing. Then he told me that I hadn’t lost my job, but I had to go to counseling and I needed to take some time off. It would be paid and he wouldn’t waver on any of it. I told him that I understood.
Then he asked me, “Are you coming back?”
“Sergeant, honestly, I don’t fucking know.” I huffed.
“Fuck! Man, you’re good police, Ritter. Not many left like you. It sure would be a lost, but believe me, I understand that shit. Also know you can also take a leave of absence. Just so you know you have options.” His gruff voice had concern laced in it.
“Okay, Sergeant. Thanks again.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” he said before he hung up.
Yeah, I needed to get out of the city since I had the time now. I mentally planned to get in contact with my uncle in Raleigh or maybe visit my cousin in Philly. First, I’d spend a couple of weeks at my lake house. Some fresh air would be great.
The second week at the lake house, I received a text from Ryan, asking where I was.
Me: At my lake house.
Ryan: Fuck, why didn’t you say something earlier?
Me: Just needed to get away. You coming?
Ryan: …
Me: What does that mean? Come on, at least for the next few days
Ryan: Don’t know. I’m not trying to leave D’asia.
Me: Something wrong?
Ryan: No, just don’t want to be away that long
Me: For fuck’s sake. Thought it was something. Ur just whipped
Ryan: Fuck off
Me: Well, bring her.
Ryan: Really?
Me: Yeah, she not going fishing and shit.
Ryan: I’ll ask her.
I hadn’t heard from Kat; not that I expected to or anything. Yet, she was on my mind, almost daily. When I came back, I’d try to reach out but more forceful this time. She was one to be reckoned with, that was for sure. That kiss on the day I left her apartment, told me everything I needed to know. She wanted this just as badly as I wanted it.
My phone buzzed and I saw it was Ryan.
Ryan: She’s in.
Me: Perfect, when y’all leaving?
Ryan: Tonight. We should be there around ten o’clock
Me: Cool, I’ll go get some food and shit.
Ryan: We’ll bring the drinks.
My hand had been healing nicely; it was almost back to normal. Well, normal enough that I could ignore the twinge of pain that occasionally came. Over the pas
t week, I’d been fishing every day. Well, some days, I just sat in my boat and let nature do its thing by surrounding me in the comfort that one day, things would be this calm. I bought this house from a fellow officer when he got married and needed the money for the crazy expensive wedding. It was definitely a bachelor’s pad and nothing to write home about, but it was perfect to get away. No television, no radios, and no drama.
Chapter Eight
Uninvited
KAT
After the funeral, I hadn’t heard from Vic at all. Well, after that searing ass kiss, I hadn’t. That kiss starred in many dreams over the past two weeks. One evening, I wanted to talk to him but I didn’t have a number. So, I called D’asia to see if she’d volunteer his number without me asking.
“Hey, girl.” D’asia called. “How you holding up?”
“I’m alright. Just working.” I answered.
“Yeah. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after the funeral but I’m glad you came. It’s crazy how you were the one on call when DaShawn was admitted. Ryan is still not one hundred percent and not that I expect him to be, but I know he needs time.
“Yeah, how’s Vic holding up?” I asked.
“Not well that I know of. He’s on leave and neither Ryan or I have heard from him,” she said.
“Ah, has somebody gone past his place?” I was now really concerned.
“Oh yeah, Ryan has several times.” She said, “Nobody answers.”
“Does anyone have a key or something? I mean, he could be in trouble.” I didn’t hide my panic.
“Do you know something, Kat?” D’asia asked me. “I mean, should we?”
“No, no. Uh, just, you know, see if someone can get a hold of him.” I finished.
“Right.” D’asia had tons of sarcasm in her voice. “I’ll get Ryan right on that.”
She laughed.
A few days later, I get a text from D’asia saying;
