"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Detective Harry "Hard Justice" Jackson hovered over the Captain's desk, his jaw firmly set, his grey eyes squinting piercingly.
"Have a seat," the Captain replied, hoping that his gruff voice hid the fact that his subordinate scared him silly.
"If you don't mind, sir," Jackson said, managing to sound malevolent despite barely moving his lips, "I'd rather stand." Jackson took up a position by the far wall.
The Captain shrugged. "Suit yourself," he grimly muttered. "Now, about this Marietta incident..."
"Yeah," Jackson interrupted. "I meant to have the paperwork on your desk this morning, Captain, but I got involved in a high speed chase with five helicopters, 16 police cruisers, eight vans suspected of carrying illicit substances and an illegally parked moped."
"It's not the paperwork I'm con -" the Captain stopped for a moment, then asked, "How many dead?"
"Six or seven, Captain, but -"
"Were the vans actually carrying drugs?"
"No. They were carrying sugar." The Captain winced; Jackson had the uncanny ability to make an embarrassed admission sound like a startling accusation. If only he'd sit down! "But, they fled when I tried to ask them questions, so they were clearly guilty of something."
Good sense of self-preservation, the Captain thought to himself. "Is there anything else I should know?" he asked.
"Yeah," Jackson drawled. "The family of the six year-old has agreed not to press charges against the department. In fact, they intend to recommend me for a medal."
The Captain groaned. "Close the door, Jackson," he commanded.
"Yes, sir," Jackson stuck his hand out and slammed the door shut.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" the Captain screamed.
"Have I done something wrong?" Jackson laconically replied.
The Captain was momentarily silent, waiting for his blood pressure to return to double digits. "It's this Marietta thing," he finally explained. "I'm taking heat from all over..."
"You shouldn't let these things bother you," Jackson advised.
"Not let it bother me?" the Captain exploded. "Forty-eight people dead! Ninety-three in hospital! Why, Jackson? Why?"
"They were all jaywalking, sir," Jackson grimly reported.
"It was a bloody fourth of July Parade!" the Captain shouted.
"Yeah," Jackson replied without emotion. "That's what they said. Very patriotic. But, none of them could come up with a permit. They left me no choice, Captain. No choice at all."
"We have rules, here, Jackson," the captain wearily said. He had tried this line of argument before, and it never seemed to work. "You can't just blow away every citizen you think might be a criminal!"
"I'm, sorry, Captain," Jackson insolently insisted, not sounding the least bit sorry, "but, criminals aren't shackled by rules, so why should we be?"
"It's part of our concept of justice," the captain tried to explain. "Everybody is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law."
"That's a pretty sentiment, Captain," Jackson sounded like he was about to spit. "But, you know how it works. The courts let the vicious scum back on the streets so that they can murder more innocent people."
"And, how many innocent people have you murdered?"
"There are no innocent people."
The Captain rubbed his eyes wearily. "I also understand that you don't carry a regulation firearm. What do you have?"
"A 76 Magnum," Jackson proudly proclaimed.
"A 76 Magnum! The gun that has blown holes in tanks and completely demolished two story buildings!"
"Now, that's patriotism."
The Captain counted the number of years he had to go before retiring before saying, "You will leave that gun at home and pick up a regulation sidearm. Is that understood?"
To his surprise, Jackson said, "Yes, sir." The Captain looked very closely at him, trying to tell from the complete lack of expression on his face if he was planning on disobeying a direct order. Jackson's inscrutability was complete (or, perhaps he just didn't give a damn).
"Well," the Captain finally said, "I think we can overlook this incident. You're a good cop, Jackson. I'd hate to have to lose you over a little thing like the Marietta incident."
"I appreciate that, sir."
"You can expect a formal reprimand by the end of the week, but you know what they're worth..."
"Yes, sir." Did Jackson allow himself to smirk ever so briefly?
"Well, I guess that's all," the Captain stated. "Would you do me a favour and send Kowalchuk in on your way out? I've got to talk to him about an incident involving a bus full of nuns suspected of harbouring illegal immigrants..."