The Good Dom: Obsession Series, Book 2

Chapter One-2

There was a silence on the phone while my Dad was trying to figure out what to say to me.

“Look. You’re a rookie, son. These things happen.”

“But Dad…”

“Listen to me Jimmy. I know you’re very stubborn and you like to go by the book. I respect that. But being a cop on the street is a tough job. Sometimes you have to make hard choices, which may or may not be the right ones. I’ve done some things too in the heat of the moment I’m not proud of. Your partner was just having a bad day. Cut her some slack. Don’t ruin an officer’s reputation based on one bad decision. She probably just bruised the old guy’s ribs.”

“The severity of the injury is not the point. The use of force against the suspect was unwarranted.”

“When you get more established within the department you can speak out, but not now. It’s too soon, son. Let it go,” my Father advised.

After I hung up, I showered and got ready for bed. Bette put on some sexy lingerie I had bought her for Valentine’s Day, turned off the lights and got into bed with me. I think Bette wanted to help me forget about the awful thing that happened on my first day on the job, which I appreciated. We made love with each other in our sweet and passionate way and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In the middle of the night I woke up from a terrible dream. I replayed the scene in front of the liquor store, seeing the pointed end of the officer’s boot kick the man in slow motion directly in the ribs. When the man looked up to see who had kicked him so violently, it was my face staring down at him, not Officer Wagner. The image so disturbed me that my hands were trembling. I looked over at my wife, sleeping peacefully on her side. I took a drink of water and tried to go back to sleep.

I slept very little that night. The image of the homeless man holding his ribs and moaning in pain haunted me. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind, out of my dreams.

Whether it was wrong or right, I decided to report what happened to my superior officer the next day. I didn’t want to start out my career as a police officer based on a lie. I’m the kind of person that thinks rules are rules and if you break them, there should be consequences. My Dad was right. I can be stubborn that way. I mean, shouldn’t the rules apply equally to everyone, especially the most vulnerable of our society? Citizens who have the least power such as the mentally ill or homeless need to be protected the most, I thought.

After filing a complaint about my training officer’s excessive use of force, I was immediately reassigned to a desk job during the investigation. Just as Dad predicted word leaked out I was a snitch within the department and no one spoke to me after breaking “the thin blue line”. I found it hard to believe I was being given dirty looks by the other officers for simply following the policies and procedures I had sworn an oath to uphold at the Academy and for telling the truth. Why had I lost everyone’s trust? Was this the way the police department operated?

Instead of my training officer being disciplined, I was terminated as a police officer on my 2cd month of employment for filing a false claim against Officer Wagner. After 7 years of academic training and a year and a half of additional training from the Police Academy, my career as a police officer was over. The investigation concluded that since the homeless man could not be located to corroborate my story and no other officers had responded to the scene to give an eye witness report, my superior officer’s word was trusted over mine. I took my complaint to the Board of Review, but they reached the same conclusion. My family was so humiliated that they stopped talking to me, even my Father. My Dad told me I had shamed the family name and he was embarrassed to show his face in public over the scandal.

I was very angry to be fired from the CPD for telling the truth and doing my job. Though I didn’t have much money, I decided to hire a lawyer to sue the police department for wrongful termination. To pay my lawyer’s fee I got a job as a security officer, watching over a shopping mall at night and sleeping during the day. I got paid just a fraction of what I was earning as a police officer, but it was a job. Bette got a job as a secretary to make ends meet and help pay the mortgage on the condo. It was difficult time, but I couldn’t just let the matter drop and go on with my life as if nothing had happened.

Also, to make matters worse, my wife and I unfortunately started having relationship problems. At first I thought our marriage was strong enough to withstand the added financial and emotional stress. It didn’t help that I hardly saw Bette, since we were on completely different schedules and we were both so busy trying to make enough money to survive. My wife was bitter and angry with me that I followed my conscience and filed the report, rather than listening to her advice. She became increasingly short-tempered with me, accusing me of caring more about a homeless person on the street than her. She constantly complained about the money I was spending on the lawyer.

It all came to a head when Bette overheard a conversation I was having with one of the hospitals in the area near where the homeless man had been beaten. I was calling around to see if I could get any information from the hospital staff about the identity of a man that may have been admitted on the day in question with cracked ribs. Due to HIPPA laws I knew it was a shot in the dark, but I thought I might get lucky and be able to track the man down, or at least find out if he’d survived. When Bette heard the gist of my inquiry, she totally lost it.

“What the f**k is wrong with you Jim! Are you crazy? You’re calling hospitals now, trying to find out what happened to that guy? It’s been 6 months! Why can’t you forget about that old drunk? You’re obsessed about him. He ruined our life!”

“It certainly wasn’t the old man’s fault that -”

“Stop talking about that guy! He got you kicked off the force!”

Bette was in a bad mood and perhaps it would’ve been wiser just to drop the subject, but since we were married I wanted my wife to clearly understand why I acted in the way I did and why I was still concerned for the well-being of the man who was injured by the officer. I told her once again that even though the man was homeless, he had equal rights under the law like everyone else and his rights had been violated. In the heat of the argument, my wife insulted me. Growing up in the city, she had quite a tongue on her when she got mad.

“You know, you look like a real man, with all your muscles and your scar. But a real man knows his priorities. A real man takes care of his wife, first. A real man would never choose a homeless street person over his own family.”

“Bette, I told you. The other officer used excessive -”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t give a s**t about what happened to him! I could care less about the officer or the homeless guy! All I know is that I thought I married a real man when I actually ended up marrying a f*****g p***y!”

Though I was mad at her and insulted, I kept a lid on my temper. I didn’t escalate the argument by accusing her of not supporting me as her husband, not standing by me as my wife when I needed her the most. I just retreated into a somber silence. Despite my life falling apart around me I felt calm inside, still believing I had done the right thing. At least my conscience was clear. I was bitter however that my career, my life and now my marriage had fallen apart because I tried to do the right thing. It seemed too high a price to pay for following the rules of correct police procedure.

Even the people I saw at church on Sunday morning, including the minister, knew about what happened and gave me the cold shoulder. It was the one place I thought I could find a sense of acceptance and solace, but all I got was more rejection. Bette was embarrassed to go with me since our old friends were there. So I dropped out of going to church as well.

I still had my one friend left, Big Johnnie, to commiserate with. Even though he constantly busts my balls over the decisions I make, I know deep down he respects me. I helped him prepare for the physical part of our police training exam, exercising and jogging with him while we were at the Academy together. I think he always appreciated how I helped him lose enough weight and get in shape to pass the Endurance Test. We hung out every chance we got in this run down sports bar to watch baseball on Sundays and the Bears during the NFL season. As usual, both the Cubs and the White Sox were in last place again this year and he was in a cranky mood about it.

“I told you man, you’re an i***t. I think those high school gangbangers sliced your brains as well as your pretty face when you were a kid. I hope you think it was all worth it Jimmy, losing everything because that old rummy got kicked in the ribs.”

“Big Johnnie, you know, it’s just the way I am. I’ve always been this way. It may sound stupid to you, but why do we have rules if they’re not applied equally to everyone? The Policies and Procedures Manual specifically states -”

“I know, I know. That’s exactly your problem Jimmy. You’re good with the books, you always were, but what you read in books don’t help you on the streets.”

“Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree. If the CPD creates rules and then chooses to ignore them when it’s inconvenient, then I don’t want any part of it.”

“OK, pal. Just don’t go all Christopher Dorner on my ass.”

Big J was referring to a famous case of a police officer in Los Angeles who had recently gone on a killing spree after being kicked off the force in circumstances very similar to mine.

“Don’t worry Big J, I don’t even own a gun,” I said.

“That’s funny. A cop who doesn’t own a gun. That makes perfect sense with you.”

“I’m not a cop any more, Big J.”

“You’ll always be a cop in my book Jimmy,” my friend said, patting me on the shoulder with his big meaty palm.

I nodded and smiled. I was feeling sensitive lately, with all my problems at home. It felt like my heart was slowly being ripped out of my chest, ever since Bette and I started arguing. I know it sounds ridiculous for a grown man, but my eyes filled with tears at the kindness of Big J’s words. I didn’t want to start balling like a kid in front of my best friend, so I pretended to laugh as we watched the baseball trickle underneath the second baseman’s legs. I used a cocktail napkin on the bar to wipe my eyes before a tear escaped down my cheeks. It was good at least one person in the entire state of Illinois had my back. It had been so long since anyone had said anything nice to me. I ordered another beer for my friend and a soda water for me, even though I was basically living in credit card debt at this point. At least the drinks were cheap at our favorite dive.

It wasn’t long after my meeting with Big Johnnie that my life completely fell apart. After a scheduling error one night, the security company had overstaffed the mall I worked at and sent me home. When I arrived I caught my wife having s*x with some guy she met at her new job. I stood frozen in the doorway, 200+ pounds of solid muscle, my arms folded across my chest, staring down at the guy on our marriage bed. When he turned around to see the scar across my face and the veins bulging out of my biceps, he nearly had a heart attack trying to get the hell out of my apartment. I suppose the scene would’ve been funny if it wasn’t happening to me.