The Mind Virus

Chapter 7 - Part 4

"The cases?"

"You looking into these suicides, I mean. Is it really a good idea?"

"Why not? You think I can't do it?"

"It's not about that, Jimmy. There are procedures. You want to end up getting hired by the department eventually, don't you? How is it going to look with you going all rogue and investigating cases on your own?"

"It's going to look like I show initiative."

"No, it's going to look like you don't follow orders and butt into other people's work. Not to mention how you're even going about doing this. Are you actually telling people you're an intern?"

Jim looked at him, the alcohol preventing his brain from coming up with a proper response.

"No, I didn't think so," Roberts continued. "Are you impersonating a sworn officer when you go on your little adventures? Not only will that not make you look good when you apply for a job opening with us, but more importantly, you know that's illegal, right?"

"I liked you more when you didn't take shit so seriously."

"Jimmy, listen to me." Roberts hesitated. "This goes deeper than what you're seeing."

"I know, Chris. That's why I'm investigating it."

"You're really not following me. Let me spell it out for you then. For your own sake, you need to stop this Dirty Harry shit."

"Oh, come on, man! Dirty Harry, really? I don't even carry a gun. I don't understand this shit. First the department doesn't care about these suicides, then it cares and sends that asshole Miller to investigate, then it doesn't care again, now it cares again but only as far as shutting everyone who tries to look into them down."

"What exactly are you trying to prove here, Jimmy? That's what it is, isn't it? You don't care about the cases, about the people who have died. You just care about proving that you can play with the big boys."

"I know how you guys – the 'big boys' – look at me, Chris. You think I'm so far beneath you, don't you? You think that just because you got lucky to get hired when the department still had money to hire you, that that means you're better than me."

"No one thinks you're beneath them."

"Oh, that's such bullshit! I've been an outsider since day one, and that was years ago." Jim was letting it all spew out riding a wave of alcohol. "You think I don't hear the laughter behind my back? You think I can't smell the derision leaking out of every pore of every 'real' cop that lays his eyes on me?"

"Jimmy..."

"No, you know what, I may not be a social butterfly or a big tough guy like most of the rest of the department, but I have plenty of qualities that would make me useful to the department if only they could pull money out of their asses and offer me a real job."

"What, are you tired of making –"

"Don't you fucking dare make a coffee-making joke. It doesn't even make sense! We have an automatic coffee machine, for fuck's sake! No one makes anyone's coffee!"

People from the surrounding tables were beginning to look, though Jim could barely notice them between the alcoholic haze and his own heightened emotional state.

"I know I'm not the archetypal law enforcement officer," Jim continued in a lower tone. "I know I'm a bit shy and stand-offish. I know I'm not going to be winning any Mr. Universe contests with my physique any time soon. So maybe I won't be the best at making connections or wrestling suspects to the ground, but I really care about the job. I really care about helping people and making communities safer."

"Listen to me, Jimmy. No one is saying that you wouldn't make a good cop."

"Not with words, perhaps, but a lot of the guys are thinking it." Jim hesitated. "Did I ever tell you about my dad, Chris?"

"No, you haven't."

"He was a cop with Daisyville PD. He'd been a cop since he left high school at 18. It was a different time, you know, the 80s."

"Yeah, for sure."

"He was shot on the job. Pure chance too. He wasn't even responding to a call. He just happened to walk into a gas station store as it was being robbed. The guy shot him before bolting. Got him in the armpit, where his vest wasn't protecting him."

"Ouch, that's rough."

"The bullet went into his lung, or maybe it just grazed it, I don't remember the details. In any case, he was off work for a while to recover, but then, being the dedicated cop that he was, he went back to work as soon as possible. Well, that was all fine, except his injury left him with some lingering conditions. I was too young to realize what exactly was going on, but he ended up dying from it, and because he'd already 'recovered' from the shooting by the time he died, it wasn't treated as an on-duty death. No heroic processions, no plaque in city hall, no fucking mention in the newspapers, nothing."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Jimmy. That's a fucking tragedy."

"You're damn right, it is. All I want to do is follow in his footsteps, man. Is that really deserving of all the contempt I get at the department? Even with this economic downturn and how it's affected becoming a cop, I'm still willing to go through the motions, just so that I can do my bit, but somehow that makes me worthy of being a target of ridicule and bad jokes. You know I didn't choose this situation. I'm just playing the hand I was dealt."

Roberts looked at him with a rare but sincere empathy. "Why don't I drive you home? I think we've had enough to drink."

Jim nodded in agreement, wiping the hot tears from his face. Both men stood up and started gathering their belongings.

"Jimmy, I know you've had it rough, and believe me, we're not out to get you, but promise me something. Promise me that you'll think about what I said about the case. You need to let it go. Now's not the time for that. You'll have plenty of cases to add to your someday pile when you get sworn in."

"Yeah, like that day's ever going to come."