Open Season

Everything Comes Undone 3

Having heard what I had of their conversation... I was extremely confused. In disbelief at what I'd heard. This was the Annointed States, that kind of thing couldn't happen here.

Could it?

Only adding to my confusion were the reports provided by the detectives. One completely vilifying the deceased family and another skewing the shooting towards not ultimately being the shooters fault. So what if he had actually been provoked. It didn't give him the right to endanger countless people and murder others.

It appears the shooter and the victims had a tangled past. The relator wife had been engaged to marry the shooter 8 years prior. Enter the Teacher husband, then they had the daughter. So they wanted me to believe that this shooter decided to exact vengeance for the life he'd been robbed of at the Spring Festival. Kill the whole family... that was the theory.

MmmmK.

Then why had he sequestered all the young baseball team, ultimately taking my child a shield?

Had he been watching me?

Had he known that Ethan was my child?

Had he guessed that Ethan would give him his best chance to make it out of the encounter with me alive?

His choice almost guaranteed his demise. At my hands.

If my officers hadn't killed him, I surely would have.

Wait.

Which of my officers had killed the shooter?

Flipping quickly through the report, you notice obvious errors and omissions from the statements that day.

Why didn't they record the shooter? Sequester the gun. Put them on leave until the investigation is concluded or they'd been cleared.

Why weren't they debriefed and their statement taken?

What the HELL was going on here?

Before rising from her desk at her home office, Staphanie fingers the sawed off shotgun secured under the desk. Checks her bottom drawer for the Glock she keeps there... then goes to pour four fingers of whiskey. This was going to be an all-nighter.

Sitting her whiskey on her desk, she exits the office to go check on Ethan. Mounting the stairs, she abandons going upstairs knowing that Ethan will be in her room on the ground floor, down the hall. Since the shooting, he'd been reluctant to return to his room; opting instead to sleep in his parents room near as possible to his fathers remaining possessions.

Riffling her fingers through his tight curls, Staphanie muses that it might be safer to allow Ethan to go stay with his father until she gets this situation all sorted out.

In a few short hours, the news trucks and media circus would start and she wanted him as far away from it as possible.

His dad had just moved a few minutes away into the city center, so it would still be possible to see him every day.

Pulling the covers securely over his thin shoulders, Staphanie gently pulled the door closed and retreated back to her office to begin dismantling this f****d up report.

Sitting back at her desk in a huff, she downed her whiskey and earnestly began identifying the gaps and omissions from the report. Her people were better trained than this. She knew that they knew protocol, even though they had probably never done it, being that Melrose was a small quiet little town. But this just didn't make ANY sense. It was glaringly obvious this was a half asses attempt at creating a narrative within this report. A narrative she wan't liking.

Entering the station house at 4:30 am, Staphanie is astounded by the lazy, even laid back atmosphere. Normally this realization would't bother her; but they'd just had a family murdered and the shooter had committed suicide by police.

Or had he? She still wasn't certain of her answer regarding that one.

Shattering her coffee mug on the front counter, Staphanie earned startled glances from every officer on the premises.

Okay. Maybe that was a little overboard.

Nah, that's how I'm feeling right now.

Sighing, c*****g an eyebrow and placing her hands on her hip holster... she waited for her fellow officers to gather around her.

Satisfied she had their undivided attention, she picked up the files she'd brought in with her and threw them up into the air. Papers, photos, documents flew in every direction around the shocked gazes of her station mates.

Dropping her initial brow and raising the other, she began to pace, " So... do I have your undivided attention?" she spun to pace the opposite direction.

"This crap," she motioned at the mess she created, "will not do. We have NO motive. Our search of both residences yielded nothing, and these... reports," she raised air quotes; "don't detail the outcome. Who the officer shooter was. His debriefing statement, When his fire arm was secured... I could go on & on & on." She finished on a huff, hiking one hip up on the corner of the central desk.

Pinching her nose, then moving to massage her temple, "Guys, we have to get this right." she levels them with a sincere entreating gaze. "We owe our best to the victims, we have to speak for them." she says.

So many eyes looking back at her. Looking through her. Not really engaged, then she meets the quietly terrified eyes of Officer Williams. Something in his gaze warns her, to let this go for now. She can almost hear his voice, " Please, ma'am."

"Get back to work" she shoos them with her hand in a dismissive gesture. They quickly disperse to be as ineffective as ever.

Sighing in defeat, she turns away.... She had to get ready for the press conference anyway.

On any given day, when in her office Staphanie was accosted by Officer after officer trying to vie for her attention and garner points. Working for the sheriffs department was no different than any other job; everyone wanted to climb the ladder and attain the most influence, power and prominence. Since she held the title of sheriff, it often meant she was the main target of their efforts to secure their ascension. Yet today, her office door remained ajar and uncharacteristically empty. If she were being honest, she'd noticed a shift in the internal climate today. Everyone was reluctant to make eye contact, it could even be said that they were avoiding her and her office.

What the hell is going on around here? She thought losing her fragile grip on her patience.

She'd have to figure it out later, she had a press conference in 5 minutes.

Leaving her office with her notes, she barked at her assistant, "Let's Go." Donning her hat and never breaking her stride.

The podium was already setup, the microphones tested and checked; the lights were shining brightly into her face. But there was no one but her department present in the room.

No media, no TV cameras, no reporters.

Was no one interested in the fact that a complete family was wiped from the face of the earth yesterday without so much as a Please or Thank you?

After checking her watch for accuracy, she turned her startled gaze at her assistant only to receive an eye roll and shoulder shirk in response.

Is this where we are a nation? So jaded that we don't really care about each other anymore... even to our demise?

Frowning deeply, Sheriff Ambergate searches the faces of her officers, deputies and detectives inside the small room with her. What was she missing? Something was happening and she was missing it. She was oblivious to it, whatever it was... and it felt like they ALL knew. They were all clued in. Plugged in. Aware. Waiting.

Waiting for what?

Light dawned on her foggy brain, as the snippets of the conversation she'd overheard between Williamson and Collins fronted in her adrenaline soaked mind.

They're waiting for me.

This is not a drill.

We might be in trouble here, she concluded as she faced her odds of being outnumbered 15 to one.

Just as the TV monitor in back of the room begin to emit the Emergency Response tones.