Ten Years Ago
Walking along the bank of the James River, checking the abandoned buildings, a shiver traveled down the back of Officer James Harrison’s neck. Normally he would credit the cool air to being close to the waterfront—but tonight he knew better. For the last three blocks of his beat, he was being followed. Two men trailed, one a building down, across the street on the right and the other directly behind him. They seem to know the beat he normally walked--building by building. Taking a few steps off his normal path, he looked into the window of an abandoned building he knew was being used by the homeless as sleeping quarters on warm nights, he called out. “Charlie, are you in there?”
“Hey Mr. H,” the man dressed in a dirty white tee shirt, ripped shorts and a pair of sneakers that were clearly at least one size to small answered. “What you still doing out here? You should be home with that pretty wife of yours.”
“Charlie, I want you to do something for me.”
“What you need?” the man eagerly asked.
James smiled at the man he had come to consider a friend. “I want you to hold on to this.” He pulled off his wedding band and put it in Charlie’s hand through the broken window. “I want you to take this to my house and give it to my wife.”
A concerned look covered Charlie’s unshaven face as he looked down at his hand. He looked up into the eyes of the man that had tried several times to get him cleaned up and off the street. “What’s going on James? You in some kind of trouble?”
“Things going to get a little heavy around here and I don’t have time to explain. When I reach the corner, I want you to haul ass out the back. Don’t stop to look around, just keep going.”
“Man, you need me to call back up or something?
James thought about that, but his back up was the very man, plotting his death. “I just need you to get out of the area. Now go.”
James waited before turning. He wanted to make sure Charlie was out of range of danger. The people following him would not want any witnesses. Walking down the street, he wondered if he should have done anything differently. Should he have forsaken the blue code of silence, to tell what he knew? It was too late to think about that now. The one thing he knew for sure was that he was not ready to die. If they were going to take him out tonight, he was going down fighting.
Using his radio was out of the question, the person pursuing him would be listening to the same channel. He was trapped. Releasing the clip that secured his weapon to his belt, he slowly pulled the weapon out and held it down at his side. At the sound of wheels, screeching around the corner, he raised his weapon and froze as he looked into the eyes of a young boy. It was a second later that he recognized what the child was holding. The first blast hit his left shoulder. He got off a few rounds, but his revolver was no match for the semi-automatic weapon the boy had. The second shot hit his chest--those that followed were a blur.
He was a God-fearing family man, who loved his wife, son, and precious daughter. Closing his eyes for a moment, he prayed, Lord if I have sinned against any person please--forgive me. His wife crossed his mind. Please give my wife the support she will need. Make sure she knows each day how much I love her. Watch over my children. Lord, have mercy on my soul.
Opening his eyes, he saw his partner standing over his now numb body. “The law is not always black and white, James--there are gray areas. You never understood that.”
Barely audible, even to the man standing over him, “I understood the blue code,” he choked out. “Revenge shall be mine, saith the lord.” The last thought to enter his mind was of his son.
J.D. Harrison had fallen asleep, lying across his bed in his apartment near campus, studying. He was two weeks away from graduating from law school and one month from taking the bar examination. His father entered his dreams. “Take care of your family, Son. Always—take care of your family,” his father was saying as he had so many times before.
“I will Dad, don’t worry,” he replied. Only this time his father did not say, if anything happens to me. When JD turned to remind him of the words he missed, a sound jarred him from his sleep.
Groggy and dazed, JD reached for the telephone on the nightstand next to his bed. “Hello.”
“JD, this is John Roth. Son you need to come home.”