Authors: George Norris
The press conference given by the Police Commissioner was set to begin at twelve noon. It was no coincidence that it would start shortly after the mid-day news aired. Kate sat alone in front of the television in the living room. The children were being attended to by their grandmother who had decided to stay over for a few days to lend Kate a much needed hand. Kate concentrated on every word spoken by the Commissioner in the hopes that her husband's killer would be caught.
The Police Commissioner of the City of New York, for the first time, gave an official account of the heartless assassination of one of the city's most celebrated heroes. It was held inside the second floor press room at One Police Plaza. The Commissioner was flanked on either side by the Mayor of the City of New York and his Chief of Department. Other high ranking members of the department could be seen standing stoically behind him. He stood an impressive figure at the podium, close to three dozen microphones mounted in front of him. There were journalists there from all over the country to cover what had become a national news event. There were even a handful of reporters from England, Ireland and Northern Ireland on hand.
He began by stating that the perpetrator of the crime had apparently cut the battery cable of the family car so Lieutenant Keegan would be forced to use the department auto. A large car bomb was placed under the hood of the car and wired to the starter. When Lieutenant Keegan turned the key to start the car, he had detonated the powerful explosive. The explosion had been so great it could be heard for miles. It blew out many windows in Lieutenant Keegan's home as well as the windows of numerous other houses on the block. The Commissioner continued
, “At this time I would like to announce a break in the case. As many of you will remember it was Lieutenant Keegan, who almost single handedly broke the attempted bombing of the Federal Courthouse in Brooklyn. I'm also sure many of you are aware only a few months ago, Judge Samuel Boden, who had presided over the trial, was gunned down in the driveway of his home on the eve of the sentencing. It is with great despair, that I inform you that James Keegan was also a victim of retaliation by the Islamic radicals who are attempting to terrorize our city.”
Tears started to roll down Kate's face as she listened. It wasn't fair that she had lost her husband to these men.
Why couldn't he have been more careful?
He should've seen the writing on the walls when the Judge was murdered
. She had warned him to be careful, or at least she thought she did. She took a tissue from the box which sat next to her and blew her nose softly. She didn't know how much more torture she could take. Could the news get any worse? She hoped it wouldn't and she didn't want to see what else the Commissioner had to say but she seemed unable to turn the news off. She picked up the remote control, sincerely wanting to change the channel but she found herself unable to do so.
“We believe we have identified the man who planted the bomb. We are currently trying to track him down. He's apparently fled the country back to his homeland,” the Commissioner willfully lied.
“At this time, I am not going to release his name or any pedigree information on him in fear of jeopardizing his capture.” The Commissioner paused momentarily, intensifying the drama. “The arrest of this miscreant is imminent and the men and women of the New York City Police Department will not rest until he is brought to justice,” the Commissioner promised. A promise he knew he would never be able to keep.
Kate finally understood what Jim had always meant when he said there was no justice in a murder case. When they caught the man who was responsible for taking Jim's life, he would undoubtedly be sentenced to twenty five years to life in prison. Jim would still be dead in twenty five years, so where was the justice? Her children would grow up from this day forward, fatherless. There is no justice in the world which could change that. She buried her head in her arms and finally mustered up enough strength to shut the television off.
The Police Commissioner appeared visibly shaken as he spoke at the press conference. Most would assume it was due to the loss the department suffered. While this was certainly true, he was also shaken because he didn't like to lie and give false hope.
James Keegan was front page news today but a few weeks from now, only the cops would remember his name. The press will have totally forgotten him and therefore they wouldn't be watching for the arrest, which of course, would never materialize. Although he did feel guilty for lying, he knew it was best like this.
Keegan dies a hero and everybody is content. His family will get a sizable amount of money due to the death gamble attached to his pension, as it was deemed a line of duty death. The department has a hero, who lost his life to make the city a better place to live. There would probably be a community park or a street named after him sometime down the road. Everyone loves a hero
; even the media. They loved a story like this.
If the media only knew what I know
, thought the Commissioner. Even if the allegations weren't true, they would have a field day with it. He could almost see the headlines;
Hero cop in the I
rish Republican Army
It would be a black eye for the department and Keegan’s family would forfeit all the benefits he worked over eighteen years for. There seemed to be enough evidence to support the theory that not only was Keegan mixed up with the I.R.A. but it was also them, who had him killed. It was much better, he assured himself, to let things be the way they were. Only the top echelon of the department had any idea of the truth and none of them would be willing to sell the department out
; only them, and Detective Louis Castillo, who was about to be transferred to the Joint Bank Robbery Task Force and promoted to Detective
First
Grade.
Kate sat a few more minutes silently weeping before regaining her composure. She knew she had to be strong for her children and self pity would do her no good. Kate left the living room and went to see her children who were in the kitchen having lunch. She walked in and gave them each a kiss on the head. This had to be an equally horrifying experience for them, she imagined. They all sat at the kitchen table eating the sandwiches their grandmother had made for them.
“Are you all right Kate?” Eileen Keegan was a strong woman. She was more concerned with Kate and her grandchildren than she was about herself.
Kate nodded her head. “I'm fine.”
“Why don't you go and lie down for a while, I'll take care of the kids for you.”
Kate couldn't understand her mother -in-law's strength. She too, had suffered a great loss, her son. The woman had certain resilience about her. Kate figured maybe it was because she had already gone through the horror of losing a spouse when her husband passed on a few years back.
Kate declined the offer. “No. I'm fine, really.”
She looked on top of the counter where today's newspaper was. Until now, she had been unable, or unwilling, to look at it. She walked over to the counter and picked it up. She looked at the photos of the funeral as well as a photo of her husband from his identification card. He was a handsome man; there was no denying that, she decided. She went on to read the articles written both about the funeral as well as about the hero cop, who gave up his life for the people of the city.
She wondered if she had told him often enough how proud she was of him. Kate took the newspaper into the other room and got her husband's scrapbook out. She looked through it like never before. She had gone through it dozens of times with Jim but it was different this time. She looked at every photo and read every article in there. She read all of the personal orders in which his medals were published. He truly was a hero.
Kate left the scrapbook and the newspaper in the living room while she returned to the kitchen. She saw that her children were just about finished with their lunch. She asked discretely if Eileen Keegan could keep Kerry entertained upstairs for a while so she could talk to the boys. Eileen Keegan agreed without protest and convinced Kerry to help her make the beds.
Kate escorted Kevin and Timothy into the living room and sat them down on the couch. The boys were old enough, she decided, to learn what a true hero their father had been. She did, however, respect Jim's wishes to not tell Kerry until she was a little older. Kate held the book without opening it. She explained to the boys that the book highlighted the many acts of bravery that their father had accomplished in his career. The boys were anxious to rip the book open and look through it but Kate decided she would hold the book and look through it with them.
She went page by page, explaining what everything was and what exactly their father had done and why. They were especially impressed with the amount of medals their father had received. She knew the boys didn't fully understand everything but they understood enough. It took well over an hour to go through the entire scrapbook and the boys had many questions which she did her best to answer.
Kate had a warm feeling in her heart after she finished showing them the book. She almost felt as if Jim was actually sitting next to her, turning the pages right along with her. She didn't know what it was, but she had a feeling of absolution. She didn't deny the fact that she would miss her husband of fifteen years terribly, but she now knew she would be able to go on.
Kerry came down the stairs ahead of her grandmother. Kate figured she would keep the children home from school for the rest of the week and try to get their lives back on track next week. It was a picture perfect spring day with a soft breeze complimenting near sixty degree temperatures.
“C'mon kids. Get your coats on,” directed grandma Keegan.
“Where are you going?”
“The fresh air will do them good, Kate. I figured I'd take them to the park for a while. Maybe you can join us. It was a good idea to get the kids out of the house, agreed Kate but she wasn't sure if she was ready yet.
“Why don't you go ahead and I'll try to catch up with you.”
After watching her children leave for the park with their grandmother, she got the pair of scissors from the kitchen. She then went back into the living room and sat down on the floor next to the newspaper. She cut out the articles from the newspaper very carefully. She opened the scrapbook to the first empty page. As she inserted the articles into the book, a deep sadness came over her. The reality of the situation set in. She had lost her husband forever. Her only
consolation was that she knew she had lost him to something he truly loved,
the job
.
~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~
It had been a particularly uncomfortable night. The hot
and muggy August air was bad enough, but getting caught in the torrential downpour while waiting at the bus stop along Hillside Avenue, had soaked Nazeem al-Haq to the bone. The walk from the bus stop, along the Van Wyck Expressway service road, to his South Ozone Park apartment, had not been much better. The rain continued to pour down on him, causing his long hair to fall in front of his eyes. A hole in the bottom of his work boot, allowed the water to soak into his sock, making his right foot wet and uncomfortable.
Al-Haq stepped out of the shower washing the night’s sweat and rain from his body. He stared at himself in the mirror. There were hints of gray in his hair and beard that had been once been jet black; many years ago, before spending time in an American prison.
He decided the twenty years he had spent in prison had aged him significantly. Al-Haq decided America was the only country in the world where you can be sentenced to life in prison, yet still walk free one day.
Once he toweled himself off, he slipped on a beige
chapan,
which he had brought back to the states with him from his native Afghanistan.
It was so much more comfortable than American clothes.
He sat at the kitchen table of his small basement apartment. The apartment did not have a bedroom; a mattress lay on the floor in the corner of the room to allow for sleeping. The tan and brown carpet was stained with dog urine from the previous tenants. The walls, which were probably white, were cracking from years of neglect. There were times when al-Haq would turn on a light and the kitchen walls would seem to be moving. The cockroaches and the cramped quarters did not bother him. These conditions were better than the ones he had endured during the eight months he lived and trained in the Al-Qaeda training camp in Afghanistan; and certainly better than the years he spent in prison.
Al-Haq opened the
morning newspaper that he took from the gas station. He had gotten used to the midnight shift at the gas station. He wasn’t even that tired most days when he got home from work. He would always make himself a light breakfast and read the paper before he would try to get some sleep. He stared at the date, August 16, 2013.
Where did time go?
Upon reflection, he knew where it went. The majority of it was spent inside an American prison cell. He had failed his brothers in Jihad but they had forgiven him. They promised him redemption. He would have another chance to fulfill his destiny. There was no reason to doubt them. They promised they would be able to sneak him back into the United States, even though he had been deported upon release from prison. They kept this promise. They supplied him with false identification and set him up with a job and an apartment. All he had to do, was wait for them to contact him at the mosque to give him his orders.
The seventy-two virgins will still be waiting for me in the afterlife
.