The Confession

Three cops showed up. Two of them got me by either arm and pulled me off of Jeff. They didn’t slam me to the ground, though that had happened to me before on previous encounters with police. They sat me on the curb while they started talking to their buddy Jeff. I kept quiet. I wanted to protest, to point out the fix was in. I had been baited by someone connected to the political power structure, and who on top of that was a member of the police class. But they sat me on the curb where I still had a view of Kendra Badger’s office, so I kept my head close to my knees as I awaited their verdict, trying to sit in a way that wouldn’t betray that I was being detained.

The three cops and Jeff talked for a while before one of the cops, the smallest one, came over to undo the plastic cuffs they had put behind my back.

-Jeff says you’re alright, he said, and when I didn’t react he gave me a light kick to my side to tell me to get up.

I got up but I was still confused. I looked over to Jeff, prepared for some kind of deception, but he just gave me a wry smile.

-You held your own, he said in his gruff fat voice.

-Yeah, alright, I mumbled, fixing some of my disheveled clothes. How about a beer?

I wasn’t sure why I asked him that—I guess I wanted to get closer to Kendra. At the time I convinced myself I’d felt some kind of blue collar solidarity with Jeff.

-On a Wednesday afternoon? Jeff said before pausing and turning to talk to the cops again before they started to walk away.

I needed a drink, in any case, and I certainly couldn’t stick around here. The cops could be back, and not look as kindly to loitering after Jeff’s gone.

I started my way down the street, headed for Cryin’s, an old Irish bar I used to go to when I was younger.

-Where were you gonna go? Jeff asked me as he caught up to me, grabbing my shoulder to stop me.

When I told him, he didn’t approve.

-Let’s have a drink at Hawk Tavern* instead.

A cop bar, tucked away behind the county courthouse complex.

I didn’t like it, and he could tell by my face.

-Drinks on me. And I like the lunch there.

A lot of cops, probation officers, lawyers and judges went in there for liquid lunches. I had a buddy long ago who worked there too.

The county built the complex way out here as part of a revitalization effort when they moved out of the downtown area. County leaders said downtown already had enough economic activity, and putting the complex out here would be good for the neighborhood. But it was also an easier commute from outside the city.

The biggest structure in the complex ended up being the county jail. It processed county arrests and handled “overflow” from the city jails. The city didn’t practice mass incarceration. Large swaths of the population didn’t know anyone in jail. There was hyper incarceration, highly concentrated among the poor, dispossessed and institutionally marginalized.

I didn’t say any of this to Jeff. We talked about baseball. The city had a minor league team years ago and it turned out we’d both worked there in concessions a few summers in our youth. He turned out to be only five or six years older than me, but still long enough for our time at the stadium not to overlap.

He talked a lot about himself, which was good, I never know quite what to say, especially with people I don’t trust or can’t understand. He joined the police academy after high school, working his way up to detective before some kind of injury that sounded like a slip and fall although he was evasive on the details.

-I fought a cripple?

-Nothing like that. It was a foot chase down a winding path, I landed on my back. I was in a bed for months recovering. I was good as new at the other end of the medicine and bed rest though. But the department told me to ride a desk. It’s expensive, they were paying my salary the whole time plus the health care expenses. The union helped my family, and they pressured me to take the desk assignment. They said I couldn’t afford to take the risk.

I thought about that for a little while. I was always uneasy about police unions. I don’t buy into the public sector union bashing. Government workers deserve to get paid well too, not just workers of for-profit enterprises. But something about the violent expression of government force bargaining collectively for more power and less accountability doesn’t sit right with me. I guess to be honest that’s a cop out. I’m not naïve enough not to know that most mundane lever of government can marshal violence for its ends. Government is violence.

I didn’t say all that to Jeff either. He had ordered us a couple of beers and two shots shortly after, and I was a little looser, so instead I said: Might not have been so bad to ride the desk, it’s a little less violent as far as government violence goes.

He looked at me for a moment.

-All life is violence, he said while still looking at me, his expression blank. Then he smiled and started to laugh.

-No, it was a set up. I think they thought I faked it for the paid time off, I really do. I don’t know who thought it more, the department or the union. They both paid, but I never sued. I signed away all that stuff at the very beginning, against the union’s advice.

I supposed policing work attracted an obedient type. I didn’t like police unions because I didn’t like police.

-Are you in a union now? I asked him.

-I’m an independent contractor now, actually. I started my own security firm. I’ve got a small team, just five guys, but we get a lot of work.

I couldn’t help laughing.

-The union must hate you, I told him. You’re kind of a scab. We had had a couple more shots by then.

-I don’t look at it that way. The city doesn’t even pay me, he continued. Badger pays me, out of her own pocket. I’ve been with her since the summer when she first started leading in the polls. She’s gonna be president one day. She’s got the right ideas.

-I think I’m in love with her, I blurted out.

*[Will rename this bar with the first name suggested in a comment that’s not trolling]