15 September 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2496: no more publicity!

Image by WikimediaImages from Pixabay

Five-year-old Lil' Robert Ludlow usually wasn't quiet, but he could watch birds for quite some time without making any noise, and he was curious about the high voice of his big cousin Col. H.F. Lee – quite a robust tenor, actually, but high compared with basso profondo Capt. R.E. Ludlow Sr., the child's namesake, grandfather, and adoptive father.

“Because, see, he doesn't sound like Papa, but he does sound like Papa, too.”

What Lil' Robert had picked up was the habit of command in both men – although the colonel spoke an average of an octave higher than his captain cousin, the same depth or weight of respect was given him by those he commanded.

Lil' Robert was eavesdropping, most attentively, on Col. Lee's life as a police captain, talking with his angry men in the soon-to-be-disbanded Blue Ridge Precinct/Special Investigations of the Big Loft Police Department in Lofton County, VA. Neither unit involved with his double captaincy had done any wrong on his watch: in fact they were the going-away award winners for 2020. But the Blue Ridge Precinct carried a heavy legacy from its past before his coming, and Special Investigations had solved a good number of complex, well-aged cases but made enemies.

Because the precinct had lost half its neighborhoods in the Ridgeline Fire (owing to pre-Lee cowardice), and because Special Investigations was not solving active open cases, neither were going to make it into the coming reorganization. The state of Virginia, tired after a year of being embarrassed by Lofton County, and particularly by its most prominent police department, had taken it under conservatorship.

“But look – we're providing the only good news this department consistently has!” Lieutenant Jonathan Jackson complained on the Zoom call. “Why are they getting rid of the best they have?”

“I mean, I can understand not needing any more bad publicity, but if they were really serious about prettying up the reputation of the department, they would let us alone,” Officer Bill Riker said.

“It's too late, gentlemen,” their commander said. “It was too late when six of you were the only men who did your job during the Ridgeline Fire, even coming in your days off, and it was too late, my loyal lieutenants I chose for Cold Case, when I chose you. Even good news can be too much when there are decades of bad, and every mention that shows you well raises five people to remind others of what is not good and to dig around for more.”

The men just received this without question, which amazed Lil' Robert because they reacted the same way he did … there was a way his big cousin could just speak and calm down everything.

“I want you to know, in August, what I could not explain in October of last year,” the captain continued. “I know you are the best. I pushed us because I knew this day was coming, and that effort would allow you to choose a path forward that honors who you all are. You can accept reassignment elsewhere in the department, or you can take your resume of a full year, for the reorganization will not happen before October, and go wherever your skill set will take you.”

“Captain Oriole at Western is a good man, and a good captain, and Captain MacMurray is too,” said Officer James Baxter, “but you are the best, Captain Lee. You brought out the best in us, and the fact that a reassignment for you is not even on the table is enough for me.”

“I appreciate your support, Officer,” the captain said. “However, I cannot overcome the fact that my position wasn't even supposed to be added – I was window dressing. The department needed window dressing. Then, I became inconvenient as I started digging into why so much cases that were easy enough to solve went unsolved … and I am the actual reason the state of Virginia is taking this 'no more publicity!' stance regarding our police department.”

“Your name is Lee,” Lieutenant Horatio Lightfoot said. “Your name is Lee.”

“And you chose to stand up against bigotry, in a time and election cycle in which you would have been wanted on the other side,” Lieutenant James Longstreet said. “My name is Longstreet, but my ancestral uncle turned to that side back then and was panned and forgotten – but Longstreet as a family name doesn't have the history before the Civil War like that.”

“Wait a minute,” Lieutenant Andrew Anderson said. “They are saying it is the budget … but what is really going on?”

“What is really going on,” his commander said, “is that I should not have been added to the department, and the irregularity is being rectified. My wife experienced this last year as the third non-officer secretary for then-Commissioner Orton Thomas – sooner or later, the house has to be fully swept and clean, and I am choosing not to take it personally. My PTSD will react better to not being reassigned elsewhere from you all in this department anyhow.”

“Yeah, I'm hanging it up,” Officer Baxter said. “I love all y'all for helping me fight my way back after my injury in January, but I'm almost 60 and slowing down, and no one else will care about why.”

“They are knocking out Chief Scott, too, with all the good he did,” Lieutenant Robert Carter said, “and since he is the sixth man in a row, and they are not even taking into account all the cleanup he did – just no respect – I don't trust the department to do right on our reassignment.”

“You shouldn't,” Lt. Lightfoot said. “They are knocking 10 officers out of Western too, and since we lieutenant don't have seniority, and cost more, we know where five of those men are coming from.”

“Why these no good, thieving, disrespectful sons of –.”

“Lieutenant,” the captain said calmly, and Lt. Jackson piped right down.

“We don't ever remember to ask,” Officer Riker said, “but how are you taking this, Captain? I mean, we know the Army would gladly take you back and all that, but how do you feel about all this? They are taking things from you just to spite you, and we all know it.”

“They are too late. I am giving the 12 best men in their field to the world, and I married the department's best non-officer woman. I have succeeded. I am victorious. I shall leave these trailers for the last time with my head held high, and I pray that if I have done nothing else, I have shown you that you are worthy to do so also.”

“Right – don't let the buns and sedges get you down,” Lt. Jackson said, and everyone rolled laughing because they knew what he had wanted to say but didn't because of their deep respect and love for their commander.

“Y'all and y'all's creative 'kid police cussing,'” said commander said, but there was no more than a mild chide in the voice before he too chuckled, and then made up the weekend orders.

Lil' Robert listened in astonishment to all of this, and what he understood was that his big cousin was the same man everywhere: a calm and caring commander, not unlike his grandfather at home.

“Because, see, he doesn't sound like Papa, but he does sound like Papa,” the baby brother said to his eleven-year-old big sister Eleanor.