PRECINCT BLUES PART 7: STATE ISSUED BRACELETS CERTAINLY AREN’T MADE BY TIFFANY & CO. 

MEN’S STATE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY

BRIGHT

I’m standing guard outside of the cell where my best friend and colleague is inside administering a little justice of his own to his new cellmate. I can’t blame him since I know the entire story of Christian and Christopher Hobbs. And let me tell you something, ladies and gentlemen, it isn’t pretty. In fact, I think even what Bubba is in that cell doing is still but a love tap compared to what the little fuck really deserves! But I also know that I have to stop this now, since if I don’t it will affect both of our jobs here.

I step inside the 9x9, just before Bubba proceeds to take another run at the bloody young man. Grasping his muscular arm, I speak so softly, that it’s barely above a whisper. “You can’t kill him, you know?”

“I know that. And honestly, it’s angering me even more that I can’t,” Bubba answers me, still struggling a bit against the tight grip I have on him.

“I know how you feel, man…”

“Do you?!” he asks forcefully in return. “Do you really understand what having this piece of shit so close to me is fueling right now? I don’t think you do.”

“Oh trust me, I understand all too well, my friend. But nevertheless, you have to stop.” Then for appearances, I add, “Or they will tack on more time to your sentence, and you nor I really want that. Do we?”

Bubba narrows his eyes at me, before looking back to the cowering idiot huddled in the corner. Although his head is downcast, I know good and fuck well that he’s paying very close attention to the quiet conversation that Bubba and I are having. I can’t help but wonder why, except that… “Has that asshole come back from the infirmary yet?” Bubba asks me. I can tell that he just had the same thought I did.

“No. He’s due back in the cell today.”

“And?”

“And that’s it,” I say, pointedly while nodding my head in Chris Hobbs’ direction. “I don’t know that they have the capacity in house to change our cell as of yet, but I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, do you have that little matter that we discussed earlier for me?”

Bubba smiles smugly, and rhetorically asks in return, “Is a frog’s ass watertight?”

I chuckle. “Last I heard, yes but I’m sure your new roommate’s isn’t. So you gonna break him in yourself?”

“Hell no. He isn’t even worth the effort. I’ll probably trade him to Luis’ guys for some cigs and a few more tater tots added to my meal from the kitchen for tomorrow,” he says as he reaches into his back pocket and hands me the thin sheaf of folded papers. “You’ll see that they get this?”

“You bet your ass I will. Have you handed yours over yet?”

Before he has a chance to answer, the huddled asshole in the corner asks, “Hey, what are you guys talking about?” 

“How to replace porcelain teeth with wooden ones. Would you like to become the model for our new prison dental venture?”

“N- no! I was just…”

“Going to sit there and shut the fuck up before I forget that I’m already in jail serving time, and commence to adding onto my sentence… again,” Bubba states menacingly, and even I want to shut the fuck up behind that warning. 

As in shape and well-trained as I am thanks to the agency, I still think twice sometimes when training with Agent DeMarcus Bennett otherwise known as HubbaBubba. There aren’t too many who would tangle with him anyway, since he stands as a giant wall of six-foot-eight solid muscle. But hey, what can I say… I’m just that little bit of reckless to not really give that much of a fuck about the difference in height, weight and muscle mass between us. Besides, going against him has only made me a better mixed martial arts fighter over the years, so my wiry ass will take the numerous asswhoopings I’ve received at his hands as a win.

“I’ll run this upstairs and advise that the new inmate is going to be indisposed for the remainder of the day. I’m sure his high-powered attorney will understand that his poor wittle client has been quite traumatized by his new situation. Right, little doggie?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Hobbs mumbled. Bubba made a menacing move towards him, that I was able to stop just in time. But not before little Chrissy pissed his pants. 

Bubba laughed. “I see we understand each other very well, now don’t we, Pooch? Clean that up while I see our guest out.”

“But I don’t have anything to do that with!”

“First, lower your fucking voice!” Bubba boomed. “By all accounts you weren’t raised in a fucking barn, so I expect a certain level of respect and decorum or I’ll be all too happy to repeat this same lesson. Secondly, you can either use your shirt to clean your piss up, or your tongue. All I know is that I better not step in a puddle when I get back in here.”

I leave the cell behind Bubba, but we don’t go far. Instead, we opt to stand across the hall against the wall where we can be seen directly from the cell, but not overheard. “I see he hasn't recognized you."

"Trust me, you wouldn't either. I'm not the same gawky teen I was at our first acquaintance. I wasn't half as tall, and I certainly didn't look like this."

I nod in understanding. Years of brutal MMA training, along with a growth spurt that would make one think he was injected with the hormones of a giant, would certainly change a man's appearance drastically. But anyway... "You wanna tell me what we’ll find on these papers?” I ask him.

“Among other things, you'll find a full accounting of what actually happened to Christian,” he responds, quietly. I can tell it all still bothers him. Hell, it’s the reason he became an undercover cop before transferring to the agency in the first place. “But then I would suspect that you already know that. So what is it that you’re really trying to ask me without actually asking me, man?”

I wet my lips, trying to stall for time in asking the question that I really don’t want to know the answer to, but need to anyway. “And now that it’s all just about done, is this going to be your last case?”

He turns to me, and waits patiently for me to make eye contact with him. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he shakes me a little before abruptly letting me go. “I honestly don’t know. I love the job but…”

“You want to see what remains, if anything, with him, don’t you?”

He shrugged before replying, “Even when he left- when he was forced out- well, it never really felt like it was over, you know?”

“And if it is? Are you really willing to give up the career you’ve built?”

“That’s what I don’t know, Bright. Maybe I’ll put in for a transfer to a warmer climate or something. But if there’s even the slightest chance that I can have him back…”

“Only way to know that is to contact him.”

“I can’t do that while I’m working this case, you know that.”

“You have the time,” I remind him. “Look, Hobbs isn’t going anywhere, man. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that high-priced pansy his family hired as their attorney isn’t already working on getting him transferred from here anyway. Knowing that family the way we do, regardless of the fact that the fucker is in here for attempted murder, among other things, they will still think he should be on the other side of the compound in the posh prison over there. Old money has been known to create a lot of new rules.”

“So what are you saying?”

“That when it happens, and we know it will, you should go look for him. Take a few days. You know we’ll provide your cover.” I touch his bicep to get him to look at me fully. “If nothing else, you’ll find the closure you need to move on, man. And isn’t knowing what is- what could be- worth a few days away from this joint?”

“And what about you? Are you ever going to resolve the situation you left behind now that Mighty Mouth is officially going to make this his permanent home?” 

“I don’t know that I can, Marc. Ben was Peter’s long before he ever met this asshole. Between the two of them, the guy probably has a million and one trust issues. I’m not sure that I’m prepared to bear the brunt of each and every one of them.”

“Well nothing beats a failure but a try, right? If you’re telling me to find the closure I need, then shouldn’t you be doing the same? Ben Bruckner was your one who got away.”

“More that he chose to go away,” I corrected him.

“Be that as it may, he’s now available. So other than the trust issues, what’s really stopping you? I know it’s not his status that is, so what?”

Yeah, what? That was the question.

 WARDEN RACHEL TALBERTI

I can’t help but snicker as the turd known as Michael Charles Novotny comes out of his medically-induced coma. After his stunt with swallowing undiluted bleach, I can’t say that I feel sorry for him in the least. The fact that he had originally planned for Bubble to unsuspectingly drink a variation of the same angers me to no end. The man is truly vile! And that fact made me deliberately turn a blind eye to Bubble’s idea of getting even.

After Sapperstein was brought in, both Bubba and Bubble were instructed to keep their ear to the ground, while seeming not to do so. We knew that there were several of his former associates in here, but couldn’t be sure whether they were his friends, or foes. So in an effort to semi-protect him so that he could most assuredly face trial, we put a tap in each of their cells while they were at dinner yesterday. Consequently, we also put one in the cell with Novotny after considering the things that kept being revealed from Mister Mumbles himself. And I’m especially glad at this moment that we did.

“Where am I?” came the croak from the supine form on the bed.

“The infirmary for now. But now that we know you’ll live, you will be returning to your cell after the dinner hour this evening.”

“Even with the fact that my cellmate tried to kill me?” Novotny croaks again, and I’m hard-pressed not to laugh in the face of his indignation.

“About that. We both know- in fact, we ALL know- that isn’t true. You set that whole scenario up from beginning to the surprise ending… well, it was a surprise to you, at any rate.”

“What are you talking about, lady? I wouldn’t have ever tried to kill myself.”

“Maybe not, but another count of attempted murder will be added to your wrap sheet anyway.” At his angry and puzzled look, I continue. “You see, we have evidence that you intended for Bubble to drink the water you left out for him.”

“Again, I have no idea what you are talking about!” he says more strongly, and I can see the exact moment when he realizes that his ever-present screech isn’t as high-pitched as he remembered. “What the fuck is wrong with my voice?”

“Considering your attempt at reenacting the accident of Nadia Comaneci, I should think that would be obvious.”

“Who the fuck is that?” he asks, which just proves how uneducated on history and pop culture he really is. At first, I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever read anything other than a comic book. But then I remember that he’s being held accountable for crimes he wouldn’t have known how to commit without an enormous amount of conversation and independent research.

So I choose to ignore his question, and continue on as if he’d never spoken. “However, unlike her, your vocal chords were severely damaged due to the ingestion of industrial strength Clorox. So congratulations, Novotny, on being a special kind of jackass. Now instead of sounding like the evil version of Mickey Mouse, you’ll continue your life sounding like the human version of Michigan J. Frog. Personally, I find this sound much more preferable to the high-pitched whine you used to torture everyone with. However, it still doesn’t mean I wouldn’t wish for you to permanently shut the fuck up. But that’s neither here nor there, is it?” 

“I want to speak to your boss. You’re mean and nasty, and I think it’s high time someone called you on it!”

“Yeah well, if wishes were horses, everyone would ride so they could trample you,” I respond nonchalantly. I interrupt his sputtering to inform him, “Aside from your return to the land of the living, I also came to tell you that Lance Freeman’s trial will begin early next week.”

“What are you telling me for?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Because whatever he says that implicates you, will also be cross-referenced for your own cases.”

“Is that legal?” he gasps, and I can’t help but love the glimmer of fear in his eyes that he’s trying so desperately to hide.

“Absolutely. We would never dream of doing anything against the law, even when it comes to the disgusting likes of you. No, we want everything on the up and up, above board, so that nothing revealed can be thrown out of court on a technicality or suppressed. And don’t worry, the same is happening for all of your co-conspirators, too. Consider this process as the law being used as a HUGE can of Raid as the lights are being turned on, so none of you roaches can hide any longer. Enjoy your time here for the interim. Although you will be spending the night in your cell, tomorrow your stint in solitary continues. Try not to say or do something else to land you back in the infirmary. Trust me, the last person you want to deal with after this incident is Nurse Ratchet. She’s looking much too eager for the opportunity to service you again.”

I leave him behind, mumbling to himself once again. I’m not too worried, since I also arranged for a wire tap to be in this room while he’s been recuperating. We weren’t sure when he was going to wake up, so it only seemed the right thing to do. The one thing we’ve learned about Michael Novotny is that he couldn’t think silently if his life depended on it. And it’s that lack of ability to keep his thoughts to himself and his mouth shut that’s going to neatly tie all of those loose ends together.

The best part is that it’s all going to be admissible in court, due to the nature of his crimes. Not only that, but since Mr. Novotny was in cahoots with people being tried on the federal level, it wasn’t hard to get the approval needed from the judges involved. Of course, Judge Stone was instrumental in seeing that the orders were expedited. Like us, he’s not leaving anything to chance. Fate and justice always seemed to be extremely elusive when it came to doing right by Brian and Justin. 

That will certainly NOT be the case this time.

57TH PRECINCT

CARL

“Are we just about ready to go?” Joanne asks me, as I stand there in a state of shock. She shakes me gently, before looking at me in concern. “Carl?”

“Unholy hell! Brandon was right!”

“About what?”

“The toxicology report came back. But not only that, thanks to the new law we were able to test the samples against whatever new prisoners were entered into the system after Jason Kemp’s death.”

“You mean the one where collecting blood and saliva samples upon arrest is now mandated?”

“Yeah. After the whole mess with Casey Sutton, where her offender would have gotten off because of Russo, it was at first proposed and then approved. It was one of the fastest moving bills introduced in local legislation, especially since it turned out Sean Seville had done the same to other women and the evidence was suppressed.”

“Okay, but what’s that got to do with… Oh my! Bingo, bitches!” she whispered breathlessly, but I can feel the excitement and urge to whoop in victory thrumming through her veins, as well as my own.

I smile at her. “Exactly!”