The Saga Continues Ch. 03

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Aftermath of the rivalry game; Laura's hot birthday present.
14.1k words
4.8
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Part 3 of the 6 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 12/12/2017
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This story is part of an ongoing series. 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 11 - Giving One's All

(Author's note: This is another of those 'bridge' stories, interlude-type stories that give information and set the table with groundwork, as well as a case to solve. Thanks for your patience, and enjoy the sex and the rest of the story.)

Time seemed to slow down. All eyes were on the pass as it came down. Jamaal Washington leaped forward as hard as he could, stretching his 6'3" frame as far as he could, his hands and fingers reaching out for the ball.

It was not enough. The ball landed on the ground eighteen inches ahead of Jamaal as his body also landed on the ground. The pass was incomplete. It was over.

The Bulldogs' fans celebration was tempered as Washington did not get up. He was lying prone on the ground where he had fallen, his hands on his helmet. Trainers rushed out to attend him in the near-silence.

Jamaal was not injured. He was simply exhausted. He had given everything he had. The trainers helped him up, and put his arms over their shoulders as they walked him back to the sidelines.

In a great display of sportsmanship, the two Bulldogs defensive backfielders that he had run around, over, and through all day came up to him. One patted him on the helmet, and one shook his hand in an athlete's 'man hug'.

I know that the University of Alabama plays their fight song for a injured player as he is brought off the field. As Jamaal was being escorted off, the Wildcat Band played their fight song in tribute to the effort he had given this day. And they would begin playing the Wildcat song for injured players from then on.

Jamaal's teammates met him at the sidelines and all along the way to the trainers table. He was hooked up with an IV. And I could see that he was crying unabashedly.

"And what a performance today by Jamaal Washington." said the Wildcat Radio announcer. "He caught 22 passes today, one shy of the FBS record and two shy of the Division I record, easily setting the Conference record. He tried to take this team on his back and win this game against one of the Nation's best teams by himself, and he almost did. Just an outstanding performance. The crowd is on their feet, applauding him as he comes off the field."

"And the Bulldogs take the victory formation, they snap the ball and kneel, and it is over. The Bulldogs have won the game. The coaches meet at midfield, Coach Richmond and his former Defensive Coordinator Ted Thrasher, shaking hands and hugs. No planting of flags on the logo at midfield; the Bulldogs know they were in a dog-and-cat-fight today..."

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

It was a somber Wildcats locker room that we entered. The Wildcats University President had invited us to come in with him as he consoled the team and praised them for their effort.

Jamaal was sitting on a table, the IV still in his arm, his head bowed, tears flowing down his cheeks. He hugged his cousins Theo and Jamaal. As I gave him a hug, I whispered "You left nothing behind, did you? You put it all out there."

"Yes sir." Jamaal sobbed into my shoulder.

"That's all you can do." I said. "Hold your head high, always." Jamaal nodded.

I went over to Coach Marshall, the defensive coordinator, and gave him a hug. His defense had been stellar against the powerful Bulldogs offense, and with nothing but Freshmen and Sophomores.

"Hey everybody." Coach Marshall said out loud. "This is Police Commander Troy, the guy who saved my butt from being set up while I was at that other School, there. He's a Wildcat graduate, and was commissioned out of the ROTC program."

"He's the Iron Crowbar." said Jamaal Washington. "I told you about him. He's the guy who inspires me to never, ever quit." There were murmurs in the locker room. I was internally rocked by what Jamaal said; that what I'd seen on the gridiron had been inspired by me.

That was a lesson for me, too: people are watching, so I must always set the best example I can. I remembered what Chief Griswold had said, about kids looking up to me like they used to look up to Police Officers but no longer do. Whether or not I wanted to be, being a role model came with the Crowbar.

"I know you're hurting, guys." I said, seeing and feeling the eyes on me, including the coaches's. "So am I. I know you all played hard today. But I also know that if every one of you give everything you'e got, and give your all like No. 10 here did today, you will be unstoppable, and you'll be hanging more Conference and National title banners up, and soon. Don't let this get you down; keep on giving it everything you've got."

I then turned and handed the red crowbar to Coach Marshall and said quietly in my best 'Darth Vader' voice: "Perhaps you can find new ways to motivate them." Coach Marshall nodded as he took the red crowbar.

Coach Marshall and Coach Richmond would later use the crowbar to motivate their players. Stories of the Iron Crowbar's harrowing pursuits of criminals would be told, and the players were told to only touch the crowbar if they intended to give their all like Jamaal Washington did against the Bulldogs. The red crowbar would be clamped under the sign that led to the tunnel to the field, the sign the players would touch, which read:

"On this hallowed sod, where Champions hath trod;

I will give my all, for Wildcat Football."

That crowbar is still there, clamped above the door in the Wildcat locker room. And the Power of the Crowbar would motivate the Wildcats to future greatness.

Part 12 - Seventy-Six Trombones

Monday, October 30th. I came into Headquarters at 5:30am. I was wearing my red collared golf shirt with the embroidered badge over the heart, khaki pants, and black shoes and black police belt with gun, radio, handcuffs, etc. It was pretty quiet.

I went into my office. No toilet paper, no trashing, no streamers or bunting or balloons. I sat down and began reading emails.

The State Attorney General was willing to cut a deal with the two women that had falsely accused the Governor of sexual harassment, and was wondering if I'd drop the charges and further investigation. I replied that there should be no deal until I talked to them and their attorney, and that some aspects of my investigation would not be dropped.

The Orange Order dinner was tonight, as Hallowe'en was the next night. It was going to be at the Junction Station Depot. Cindy's email said that the menu would include 'roasted Wildcat'. If that was the worst roasting I got today, I'd consider myself to be very lucky.

At 6:50am, I heard traffic in the hallway but paid it no mind. I was going to go to the coffee klatch and take my medicine, but wanted to finish this paperwork first. A couple of minutes later, Theo Washington knocked on my door and came into my office.

"Sir, the Duty Desk said you wanted to see me?" he said.

"Uhhh, no..." I said, confused. Suddenly the door burst open. It was Joanne Warner.

"Commander! Theo! Come quick!" she shouted. "Sergeant Rudistan fell down in the gym! He's hurt!"

I made sure my office door locked behind me, then ran down the hall after Joanne and Theo, who were running to the gym door that was on the backside of the Station, in the corner opposite the Chief's office.

Going into the gym, I saw a group of people around Rudistan who was lying on the floor. One of them was Cindy Ross. I came up to them, took in the scene, then reached my hand down.

"Get up." I said.

"He's hurt, sir!" said Cindy.

"Uh huh." I said. "No, you're not hurt, Rudistan. You wanted me in here, you've got me in here." Rudistan opened his eyes and grinned, then took my hand and I helped him stand. "Okay, so what's this about----"

*TWEET!* blasted a whistle.

*TWEET!* *TWEET!* *TWEET!* *TWEET!*

All of a sudden, members of the University's 'Bulldog Blue' Band began pouring into the door at back left of the gym that led outside. More Band members began pouring in from the door to the Station. They were playing Seventy-Six Trombones as they marched in.

"Hahahahahahahaha!" I laughed as I clapped my hands, realizing what was going on. "Okay, this is good. This is good." Cindy was beaming, her ice-blue eyes sparkling brightly.

The Bulldog Band guided into concentric circles around our group, each line walking alternately clockwise or counterclockwise, until the entire contingent was in place. Then upon another whistle blast, they stopped, and all faced us in the middle, and they blasted out the Bulldogs fight song, which is the same as the Washington Redskins's 'Hail to the Redskins'. After playing, they all sang:

"Hail to the Bull-dogs! Hail Vic-tor-y!


Van-quish the Wildcats! Fight! for our dog Chief!

As everyone (except me and Theo) cheered, Nick Eastwood came up with his cameraman. Also showing up were ROTC Cadets, who had brought Chief IV with them. Someone had brought in a big wooden box for Chief IV to sit on, and he was high enough for me to pet him.

"You guys don't have any fun around here, do you?" Nick asked Cindy. "Was this your idea, Captain Ross?"

"I will definitely take credit," said Cindy, "for this brilliant piece of work!" I was laughing.

"Commander, you're being pretty good-natured about this." said Nick.

"I've gotta admit, this was a good one." I said. "They got me. And hey! we lost, the Dogs won. Gotta give 'em their due." Everyone cheered.

"And besides," I continued, and more loudly, "I get to meet this handsome guy, the most awesome mascot in the Nation." Everyone cheered as I petted Chief IV, who was dressed in his blue jersey. Chief IV seemed to enjoy being petted.

"I guess it wouldn't be a good idea if the Wildcats had a live mascot like this, huh?" asked Nick.

"Noooo... as President Elder Bush would say... 'Wouldn't be... PRU-dent!'." I said in my imitation Elder Bush voice, complete with proper hand gestures. Everyone laughed.

"We also have here Detective Theo Washington, who is Wildcat Sophomore Jamaal Washington's cousin." said Nick. "Detective, your cousin had a huge game, set a conference record for pass receptions in one game."

"Yeah, we're all proud of him, and he fought hard to the very end." said Theo, who sounded a bit dull and defeated despite the praise for his cousin.

"He's a great player." said Nick. "Okay Bettina, back to you!"

"Goooooo Dogs! Beat!... the Cats!" yelled all the Band members. I petted Chief IV some more, who continued to not mind getting skritchins from the Wildcat in the room.

We took some photos with Chief IV, one of which I still have. At some point in time Cindy noticed, and said "Don, where is your crowbar?"

"In the Wildcats Locker Room." said Theo. "Future motivation."

"What are you going to do for another one?" Cindy asked, totally stunned.

"Oh, I've heard rumors that replacements will be available soon." I said cryptically.

Part 13 - Back To Work

"I thought for sure you'd be pissed." said Teresa Croyle as we gathered for the Angels meeting. "Or at least shocked like Theo was."

"Noooo, though I was surprised. " I said, "I have to admit, that was very, very good. You had me set up all the way, thinking it'd be T.P.ing the office or something. And that had to take some effort to put together. I just wonder how long you've been planning that, Cindy."

"A long, long time." said Cindy, whose ice blue eyes were sparkling enough to light up the room all by themselves. "I put it together with Nick Eastwood and the University Band a couple of weeks ago... providing we won, of course. And once again, Jamaal made it way too close for my comfort."

"She was dying in the stands when y'all got that onside kick." Teresa said, snitching on her soul sister. "And when Jamaal broke free on that last pass, she was using words I can't repeat in this family atmosphere." That made me laugh.

"Well, I'm sure I'm gonna catch hell at the Orange Order dinner tonight." I said. "And then I'll yell 'Wait until next year!' and move on. So, speaking of moving on, what's moving on in this Police Department?"

"Just getting ready for Promotions and Medals Day on November 1st." said Cindy. "And Theo's cold case. The Chief talked to me about the political issues being brought up over it. My worry is that J.G. McGill might try to get to witnesses and keep them from talking to us. And then there's Tammy Cochran's mother, Dinah. Theo was looking for her address, so we could go talk to her... and there's nothing. Her license expired two years ago, and she didn't renew it. She has also filed no tax returns for three years and has no work record during that time."

"Hmmm." I said. "So what does that suggest to you?"

"That she's dead." said Cindy.

"Could be. I would also suggest asking the Women's Prison in Madison County if she's their guest there." I said. "As you know, after the Asylum scandal we've known that records are spotty. They may have her and it's not part of the State's records."

Cindy nodded and made notes.

"Sir, I do have something that I can't hold back on, and I think you need to be aware of." said Teresa. "Precinct Captain Briggs has not attended the last two meetings I have with the Precinct Captains and Lieutenants every Monday morning. Irwin is telling me that Briggs tells Irwin to take good notes and fill him, Briggs, in, and that Briggs has other things to do. I sent an email to Briggs that I expected his presence this morning without fail, so we'll see what happens."

"Did you cc: me on that email?" I asked.

"No sir." Teresa said.

"Forward a copy to me." I said. "And from now own, blind copy any emails you send him. I want to start a paper trail."

"Yes sir." said Teresa.

"Okay," I said, "you guys are in charge today. I've got to go to Westphalia and try to clean up this crap about the Governor's accusers."

"Out of curiosity, sir," said Cindy, "what's going on with that?"

"The AG wants to settle with them." I replied. "He's an Establishment Republican 'boy', so I'm not surprised, but I want some information out of them first..."

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

Sergeant Andrew Prince flew the TCPD's Bell 206 helicopter to Westphalia, with me and Jenna Stiles as passengers, as she'd been summoned to the meeting and I'd offered to give her a lift there. The noise of the aircraft made conversation difficult, so we rode in silence and watched the landscape below us.

The meeting was at SBI Headquarters in Westphalia. State Attorney General Karl Handel, State Attorneys Glenn Alberts and Faye Dunlan were also there, as was State Senator Cain Mitchell - Russell's 'boy'. Also in attendance were Gwen Munson and Mike G. Todd, attorneys for the women and the Governor, respectively.

"Heck of a game Saturday!" said Handel, with a laugh, looking sideways at me as he said it.

"Sure was." said Glenn Alberts, who did not like me any more than I liked them. "About time the Bulldogs whipped the Wildcats' ass."

"Are we here to talk football or legal business?" I asked coldly. Seeing that they were poking a hornet's nest and just making things worse for themselves, everyone shut up.

"What we're here for," said Mitchell, "is to resolve this situation with these young ladies. They have recanted their statements, which exonerates the Governor. We believe there is nothing further to be gained by continuing to pressure them with threats of prosecution."

"I agree." said AG Handel.

"I don't." I said coldly, my voice cutting through the room like a katana through bamboo. "There is a lot to be gained by continuing with a full investigation of this conspiracy to defame the Governor of this State, particularly who was behind these women's actions."

"Speaking for the State," said AG Handel, "I have no intention of dragging these women through the mud when they're willing to accept lesser charges."

"What 'lesser charges'?" I asked.

"Slander, but reduced to misdemeanor status." said the A.G. "Making false public statements. They'll pay a fine and get probation." Everyone looked at me.

"I hope you all understand that none of that will not stop me from investigating the case, particularly with regard to who was behind them, paying them, pushing them to take these actions." I said. "I would also say, AG Handel, that I'm against any plea deal until I've at least talked to them, to find out what they have to say."

"Why should I allow you to talk to my clients at all?" said Gwen Munson.

"You don't have a choice about that." I said. "I'm talking in terms of arresting and interrogating them. You can be there as their representation, of course, but I will still be questioning them."

"I'll tell them to take the Fifth." said Munson.

"Then I'll suggest to the Governor to order his Attorney General to make no plea deals if they take the Fifth." I said. "And if the A.G. does not comply with the Governor's orders, the Governor will fire him for cause - outright insubordination."

"He can't fire me; I was elected." said the AG.

"We'll see about that." I replied. "I am eager to make a test case of it."

"Commander Troy, why the hostility?" asked Cain Mitchell. "Why are you trying to escalate this? Why are you trying to persecute these young women?"

"Because I'm not a gutless Establishment Republican Elitist like you and Graham Collins, Mr. Mitchell." I replied, my face almost as red as my hair. "I'll put it in the form of a question: are you Establishment Republicans afraid that I'm going to find out that it was you Establishment Republicans behind this defamation against the Governor? Is that why you're so gutless about this, so willing to drop this? Well, Mr. Mitchell... are you?"

Cain Mitchell was dumbfounded. He was speechless, a rarity for a politician like him. I was not playing by the rules of the Game with which he was familiar.

Mike G. Todd was young, fairly handsome, and made a good impression as a lawyer in Court. But like me, he was from Apple Grove, and could strike that 'good ole boy' pose when he wanted to turn it on... and he flipped that switch.

"You boys need to understand," he said in a jovial way that reminded me of Micah Rudistan, "that the Governor's lawsuit is not going to be dropped, either."

"Oh, dear God." muttered an exasperated Cain Mitchell, his face in his right hand. "You obviously don't understand politics, Mr. Todd. Nor you, Commander Troy."

"No, I don't! I understand crime! I understand slander, and defamation!" I all but yelled back at him. "And I understand political corruption. And that is what I'm looking to expose here."

"Commander Troy," said A.G. Handel, "you're operating under the assumption that the Governor will take your advice over mine, or the Party's. I firmly believe he will see the light of settling this and letting it die."

"I'm willing to bet against you on that." I replied, my gray eyes boring into his. "Are you willing to bet your political future on that?"

"And Commander Troy is right." said Mike G. Todd. "The Governor is going to follow my advice, and I'm going with whatever Commander Troy decides to do."

The room was silent. Then Gwen Munson's voice rang out. "Perhaps I should have a word with Commander Troy. Alone."