Skin against skin

# 4

"Morning, Simon. How was your weekend?" The typical Monday morning sentence. I throw them a quick laugh. Private life and work is divided by an electrical fence with me. The colleagues know that and therefore never really expect an answer. "Nothing special, just the ordinary stuff." Good thing they don't know too much about me, especially about my swingers life... Gossiping is in any police station top hobby. "And how was your weekend, Peter? Catch anything? Or had the fish all gone on holiday?"

We're three at the social crime squad. Me, Peter and Anne. But Anne always arrives late. Needs to drop off the kids at school first. Sliding hours are one of the best perks working day shift. Social crime squad? We deal with things like domestic violence (assault, threats, stalking...), sexual crimes, problems with children, problematic upbringing, neglect, and so on. You get the picture.

Peter grunts something about 'bad time of the year. Or you'd have to go the northern island. Been with the wife. Only complaining. Do this, do that... And everything I do is never right. No idea why I stay'. Well, neither do I, I think to myself. Every weekend is the same routine with Peter. Unless he fled the house to go fishing. What a life.

"Biiirminghaaaammm!" someone shouts across the office. We are in a landscape office of about 15 meters long, together with the community policers. I know, pretty incredible, still creating offices like that. Constant noise, shouting, excessive talking. Dreadful. And Monday morning the subject is always soccer. Jezus... if there's anything I couldn't care less about...

I'm trying to concentrate on the work. We're in the middle of a stalking case. Ex husband of a woman is still bothering her after three years being separated. The guy has been in jail for it, from the prosecutor he has received conditions he has to abide, but still he goes on. Every day, texting, whatsapp, following her, passing around her door, spying on her everywhere she goes, threatening her and her family... You name it, he did it. It is especially worrying that the last couple of weeks he treatened her that he would use violence against her. He never did that before. Not on her anyway.

John F, or 'the transvestite' as we sometimes call him. A year ago he was lying in the bushes of her backyard, at night, dressed as a woman spying on her in the house ... mad as a dingbat.

And the frustrating part is that the Prosecutor doesn't do anything about it. He violates his conditions every day, but hey, appartenly there are worse cases. Writing to the press in big words that 'stalking is an absolute priority to the Court', but when push comes to shove they just let them walk. He was appointed a social worker by the Court. That's also a laugh. Every time she had a talk with him ("and never do that again, John!"), half an hour later, he was again sending messages to her. The victim is called Christine. Her life is being dictated by this guy. Taking medication to be able te function, to sleep. From dusk till dawn he is there, somewhere, ruining her life. We do our very best, but if the Prosecutors do nothing, we only make fools of ourselves.

It's five to nine and Anne comes bursting in. Nervous as always. "Morning, boys. Briefing?" Peter and I look at each other. "Yes, Anne, just like every monday morning."

Just as we are about to attend the briefing, I get a phonecall.

"Good morning. Are you Thomas' dad?"
"Uhm, yes I am."
"Ah good. My name is Ellen. I am Thomas' student councillor in the school. I'm afraid I need to tell you that this morning we caught Thomas while he was smoking a joint just outside the school gate. Of course we wanted to let you know about this."

Just for a moment, I'm at a loss for words. Thomas has had it quite difficult the last couple of years, but drugs... that I hadn't expected from him.
"Hello, are you still there, sir?"
I crawl out of my pit of thoughts.
"Yes, yes I am. I must say, that rather comes as a surprise to me."
Ellen answers me in the sort of voice that betrays that she must be somewhat in her twenties. She sound young, bit nervous, nearly apologizing.

"Well, sir, perhaps we could have a meeting about Thomas? I've had a short talk with him and it seems he really isn't feeling topnotch. Could you find a moment for this meeting, sir?"
"Ow, I need to check on that. Can I call you back later?"
Ellen answers that that is fine. 'Goddamned', I think to myself, probably just that little too loud again. 'That's all I need.'

After the briefing I ask Anne and Peter to have a quick heads-up. I want to speed up the case. It's aggrevating me. Things need to move.
"Okay, so far, we made for dossiers, collected statements from 15 witnesses. We have pictures that he frequents numerous places where she is. What else can we do to make sure that Prosecutor lifts his lazy ass and dumps this guy back in jail?"

To get that, we will have to catch the guy red-handed, clever boy. But you know that as well as I do. But the question is how do we do that? The guy has no system. He pops up at any minute, any hour, any day, anywhere."I know Peter's right. I look over to Anne. She just looks back and gives a short "mm". That one feels it coming already. Working overtime is something you can let Anne do only under threat of being whipped.

"I know, Peter. I know" and I throw in a little sigh. What a mess.
Ok, I will go back to Christine and see if we just can't come to something predictable. A moment and place that we can predict he will be there to stalk her."