Chapter Six
I
m
i
ss the next FTO
m
eeting because it’s on a Sunday, and I d
o
n’t want to
m
i
ss
m
y wo
m
en’s group one
m
o
r
e ti
m
e.
W
e’ve been
m
eeting since grad school
w
hen we were drawn together to talk about wo
m
en and psychotherapy. Did therapy help wo
m
en change the patriarchal structure or did
it ju
s
t help them
adjust to
an
o
ppressi
v
e s
y
ste
m
?
Now we talk about lumps and grandchildren. I love these wo
m
en like sisters.
W
ithout the
m
, I wouldn’t have survived my dissertation or
m
y divorce. I tell
Sgt.
Lyndley that I’ll check in on Monday for an update on Ben.
My office phone is ringing as I open t
h
e door on Monday
m
o
rning. It’s
E
ddie. “Have a nice weekend, Doc
?
”
“Yes, thank
you.”
“Nice to have a weekend off. I got to baby sit Mr. Safeway.”
“So, how’s he doing
?
”
“Like crap. Circling the drain. The
g
uy’s a window licker on a short bus.”
“A what?”
“A retard. He doesn’t get it. Never will. All w
e
’re doing the
s
e two weeks is going over stuff he should have got in the first phase. See for yourself.
W
e got a Red
m
an training day on Thursday. Defensive tactics. Four
o’clock.
It’s
his
last
day of extension, kind of like a graduation cere
m
ony. I’m
sure you’ll want to be there.”
The old Kenilworth High School is a spra
w
ling, one-story structure composed of multiple b
u
ildings s
u
rr
o
unded by concrete. It was long ago
d
eclared unsafe for students but apparently not for cops who have clai
m
ed the old school
f
or a training facility. Crushed and bent traffic cones left over from
a d
e
fensive dri
v
ing class litt
e
r the p
a
rking lot on the west side of the complex. There is blackened refuse on the east side where some fire department has burned the dilapidated bu
i
ldings for practice. Baxter’s right. The depart
m
ent needs a new
public safety building.
I drive aro
u
nd until I s
p
ot a pod of police
cars
pa
rked behind a lar
g
e flat-roofed building. I follow the grunts and shouts and the flat, thwacking sound of bodies landing on floor
m
a
t
s until I find
the gy
m
. The room
is hot and reeks of sweat. I look for Ben and Eddie and
d
on’t see eit
h
er one. Cops are yelling and swinging their batons at the instructor who is dressed in puffy red prote
c
tive gear, loo
k
i
n
g like Spider
m
an with a bad case of ede
m
a. One at a ti
m
e the Red
m
an deflects their
b
lows and throws
them
on their backs where they lay panting and groaning.
I re
m
e
mber
m
y own very different kind of training, poisonously polite conversations with supervisors who would stab
m
e in the back and smile. That all changed for the bet
t
er
w
hen Mark beca
m
e
m
y supervis
o
r and
for the worse
af
ter we
m
arried. For a
m
o
m
ent I entertain a delicious fantasy,
m
e in the Red
m
an suit, Mark on his back like a bug.
“You little pants shitter. Get your ass ov
e
r here.” I don’t have to look to see who is screa
m
ing or who he’s screa
m
ing at. Ben co
m
e
s out from
behind a wall with his baton in his hand. He’s wearing a protective hel
m
et
and holding a bloody tissue to his lip. “Get the fuck in there.” Eddie pushes him
toward
the Red
m
an. “You don’t
get to vote on this. Go.”
Ben drops the tissue and raises his ba
t
on over his head. For a
m
o
ment I think he is going after Eddie. Then he turns and charges into the ring, shouting so
m
ething I can’t understand. He takes a
f
ew futile swings bef
o
re the Red
m
an
l
i
fts him
off his feet and sla
m
s h
i
m
into the
m
at face down, gasping for breath. Or cr
y
i
n
g. I can’t tell which. So
m
ebody blows a whistle and announces the
training is over, ti
m
e to pack up and go ho
m
e.
“See what I
m
ean?” Eddie’s
s
tan
d
ing
behind
m
e. “He’s a liability.
W
e can train him
‘til the cows co
m
e ho
m
e, he won’t be n
o
thing but a ci
vi
lian in a cop
suit. You c
a
n kiss the chief’s ass all you want, this
kid’s ready for the blue juice.”
Ben is standing by his car, a non-descript white two door sedan badly in need of body work. Ben could use so
m
e body work hi
m
s
elf. Beside his split lip, he has a large swelling w
e
lt on his c
h
e
e
k and
m
ultiple sc
r
apes
o
n his ar
m
s.
“I hate this. He
m
ade
m
e
go in four
ti
m
es. Nobody else had to do that
m
any.”
“He’s afraid for you. Police work is dang
e
rous. You have to be able to defend yourself. Or defend so
m
eone else. He’s trying to teach you.”
“Call that teaching?
Throw
m
e in the ring, kick the crap out of
m
e and make
m
e do it again.”
“You need to be prepared for the unexpec
t
ed. That’s what gets cops killed.”
“Tell Ri
m
bauer about being prepared. He’s
so fat he can’t walk 10 feet without getting out of breath.”
“Eddie’s not on trial here. You are.“
I sound like a mother scolding a s
m
all child. It’s
d
ark and
it’s st
a
rting to drizzle. I want
to go
h
o
m
e. Yelli
n
g is only p
u
tting s
a
lt on his wounds. I take a deep breath. The poor kid is despera
t
ely trying to hang onto his j
o
b. He has a wife to support and a baby on the way. That’s a lot more stress than being cold and getting
m
y hair wet.
He turns suddenly and opens the door to
his
car.
“I
got
to
go ho
m
e. The wife’s waiting for
m
e. She’s pretty
m
oody since she got p
r
egnant.” He starts to get in his car and pauses. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I know yo
u
’re trying to help. I’m
trying, I really a
m
. R
i
m
bauer won’t cut
m
e a break, and everybody e
l
se is too afraid to stand up to hi
m
. You’re the only one who tried and it didn
’
t work.
This two week exte
n
si
o
n business wasn’t worth crap. I want a chance with another FTO. If I can’t cut it with so
m
ebody else, then so be it, I’m
out
of here. Can you help
m
e out, Doc?
I don’t know who else to ask.”
“Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll go back to HQ and talk to the chief, see if I can get you extended with another
F
TO.” The muscles in
his jaw relax and I hear him loose a long sigh. “In e
x
change, you and your wife will
m
eet with
m
e tomorrow at 10:00 a.m.
W
e have a lot to talk about.“
He starts to say so
m
ething but changes his
m
i
nd.
Baxter doesn’t believe
m
e. He’s spent ten
m
i
nutes lecturing
m
e about what a good FTO Eddie Ri
m
b
auer is.
“He has his proble
m
s, granted, and he’s rough around the edges, but he knows his stuff.
He was
m
y training officer back in the day, and I learned a lot from
h
i
m
.”
I am
not
persuaded by Baxter’s testi
m
onial or his exa
m
ple. “One last chance and that’s it. Ben j
u
st wants the opportun
i
ty to work with another F
T
O. If he doesn’t
m
ake it, then he’s ready to quit. He has a lot of
heart. If
it were
m
e, I’d have quit
w
eeks ago. You should have seen hi
m
. He was exhausted, beaten up, hu
m
iliated, and he
k
ept trying.”
“I’ve already extended him
two weeks. There has to be an end.
W
e can’t keep training him
indefinitely. Not everybody’s cut o
u
t for this work. I try to
w
eed them
out before I hire the
m
.”