part0046

Arlene Whitman tapped the gavel against the wooden block. The volume of the chatter far exceeded the clicking noise, due to the sheer amount of people who had crowded into the Town Hall meeting room. She brought the ceremonial mallet down again, this time with enough force to garner attention.

“We’re calling this meeting to order. Please take a seat if you can.”

The discord settled into a few pockets of chitchat.

“Please, if everyone could stay quiet, we’ll begin. Councilman, you have the floor.”

Whitman took her seat at the center of the long table along with several other council members, who sat to her left and right based on political affiliation. Across from the panel, Hopkins sat alone at a small table, positioned to face the men and women who would decide his fate.

To Hopkins, the whole thing had a grandiose, self-important quality to it. As if the band of misfits considered themselves something on par with the United States Supreme Court. But he would play the game. Not that there was any other choice.

Councilman Dunkel pulled the tabletop microphone stand closer to himself.

“Thank you, Madam President. I’d like to make a motion to dismiss Thomas Hopkins from his duties as Chief of Police, effective immediately.”

“Do I have a second?” Whitman asked.

“I second,” Councilwoman Rutledge said.

“Discussion?” Whitman responded.

Councilwoman Taylor chimed in. “I’d like to say something. To be honest, I was all for this action when it was proposed last week. But I must say that since that time, I’ve been quite impressed with the way that Chief Hopkins has conducted himself. I’ve read the letters submitted by some of his subordinates, and I am heartened by the confidence they have in him. I know that many of you on this council have already made up your minds, but I believe we owe it to Chief Hopkins to keep an open mind. We should all remember that there are two sides to every story and as such, we should reserve our judgment until after Chief Hopkins has had an opportunity to explain himself.”

“Very well,” Whitman said. “Does anyone have anything further before we turn the floor over to Chief Hopkins?”

From the front row, Charlie Fuller raised his hand.

“Yes, Lieutenant Fuller.”

“I’d like to say a few words about Chief Hopkins if that’s okay?”

Hopkins stood up and faced the group of spectators. “Charlie, that won’t be necessary.” He raised his voice so that he could be heard over the murmuring and rustling of the agitated group. “I know what many of you have heard about me. That I’m a mess. That I’m a drunk, am I right?”

A few hoots and hollers came from the back of the room.

“Well, I’m here to tell you that everything you’ve read about me is absolutely true.”

A collective gasp seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Hopkins anticipated the reaction. It wasn’t often that someone in the public eye spoke honestly.

He continued. “I don’t blame you for not having faith in me. For a while there, I didn’t have much faith in myself. You see, what many of you don’t know is that my beloved wife…”

Hopkins felt the ball forming in his throat. His eyes watering. He paused to collect himself. Then cleared his throat.

“My beloved wife Lindsey was killed in a car accident a few years ago. And like many of you who have ever dealt with the loss of a loved one, I fought through the grief. Forged ahead with exactly what Lindsey and I had planned. Only it was a lie. I hadn’t conquered it. I just put it away. Deep inside, where it could fester and feed on me.”

The room sank into complete silence.

“Yes, I was a drunk. And yes, I was failing you. I wasn’t giving you what I promised. But something happened last week. A wake-up call. A reminder of what matters and how much your safety and well-being mean to me. It rekindled the vigor I have for this profession and the respect I have for it as well. I’m not going to make excuses for my behavior. I just thought you all deserved to know the truth.”

Hopkins took a deep breath. The exhale was audible throughout the room.

“And that’s why I’m stepping down.”

The room erupted. Some celebrated the announcement, but many others, to Hopkins’ surprise, seemed to protest the decision.

“Order. Order,” Whitman yelled. “Hold on a moment, Tom. Let’s not be hasty. This has been a very trying time for everyone in this community. In light of everything you’ve told us and the demonstration of your commitment that you’ve displayed over the past week, I don’t think there is a need to resign just yet. Let us deliberate.”

“Thank you, Madam President,” Hopkins said, “but it’s the right thing. For me and for this town. But I would be most honored if you would consider my recommendation for my replacement. Lieutenant Charlie Fuller. Stand up, Charlie.”

Fuller reluctantly stood.

“There is no one who knows this job better than this man. No one who has more passion and talent and compassion. The job he did managing this horrific case was nothing short of amazing. At this point, I think everyone in this room knows I don’t bullshit, right?”

A wave of laughter moved through the crowd.

“Then trust me when I tell you that Lieutenant Charles Fuller is ready to lead.”

Whitman stood. “I believe your recommendation carries a lot of weight. And I wholeheartedly agree with your assessment of Lieutenant Fuller. I respect your decision, Tom, and if it’s your wish, I accept your resignation. Which, as of this moment, leaves us without a Chief of Police. According to the charter, in the case of a vacancy it is my duty to appoint an interim Chief until the proper formalities can be observed. Therefore, effective immediately, I hereby appoint Lieutenant Charles Fuller to the position of Interim Chief.”

A round of applause prompted Fuller to acknowledge the promotion by waving and mouthing the words ‘thank you.’ As uncomfortable as his body language looked, his giant grin gave away his true feelings on the matter.

Hopkins walked to Fuller, saluted him, and shook his hand. Then he turned to the panel.

“I want to thank this council,” Hopkins said, “Arlene, I appreciate everything. So, that’s it. I’ll leave you to it.”

In anticlimactic fashion, Hopkins turned and walked away. He cut through the aisle and headed outside.

As he emerged into the warm night air, he noticed John Perrington standing at the base of the stairs that led to the sidewalk. The man everyone called Chief.

He had earned the nickname because, once upon a time, he did the job. Now, Hopkins had joined his ranks. He was officially a ‘Former.’ And, if he was being honest, it felt good.

“Chief,” Hopkins said.

“Chief,” Perrington responded. “I guess you won’t need me as a character witness.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Ya know,” Perrington said. “A few of the retired guys get together for coffee on Saturday mornings at Slice of Heaven. I was thinking, maybe you’d like to join us. Tell a couple of war stories, you know.”