“Kenson, on your feet. Your bail
has been posted unfortunately. You’re free to go.” The guard unlocked former
officer Kenson’s cell.
“By who?”
“Jenkins.”
The guard was fuming as he
walked the former PPD officer to the front desk. “Here’s your stuff, ass-wipe.”
“Who are you calling ass-wipe,
faggot.”
“You, ass-wipe.”
“I should…” Kenson balled up his
fist and pulled his arm back.
“Go ahead. Take a swing. I’d
love to lock your sorry ass back up.”
Kenson rethought his current
course of action and instead of swinging, dropped his arm, grabbed the envelope
that contained his personal effects and walked out. “Thanks for posting my bail
Captain.”
“I’m no longer a captain.” Jenkins
responded. “Fucking faggot Peters went crying to that faggot-loving
Commissioner and got me fired.”
“Same here, only in my case, the
little Mary went to that sorry excuse of a Deputy Mayor.”
“I know; which is why I posted
your bail. I need your help with a little payback. Let’s go somewhere where we
can talk in private. I have an idea that requires your particular expertise.”
“You got it” Kenson agreed
emphatically. “Whatever it takes to teach that sorry-assed faggot a lesson
he’ll never forget I’ll do.”
“Here’s my idea…”
The following week….
Greg nervously scanned the
crowded room. The turnout was greater than he or Gwen had anticipated. He
locked eyes with Dave briefly who sent him a reassuring smile. “Good evening
everyone and welcome to the first meeting of the Fellowship of Gay, Lesbian,
Bisexual and Transgendered Officers, or FOGLEBISTRO for short. It’s awesome to
see so many people here. I am Greg Peters and this is Gwen Jordan. We have been
asked by the Commissioner to form this fellowship group to provide a support
network for GLBT officers in light of the Commissioner’s policy that all gay, lesbian, bisexual and
transgendered officers be able to serve openly without reprisals. Each of you
were handed a copy of our charter and proposed bylaws, which we will go over
shortly. But first, allow me to introduce our special guest speaker tonight,
former Deputy Mayor and now Director of Public Policy here at the Center, Dave
Barton.
Dave approached the podium and
gave Greg a quick hug and kiss before Greg took his seat. “Thank you, Greg.
Good evening, everyone. It’s an honor to be here with you this evening.”
Whatever else he had to say was lost to the sound off a thunderous explosion.
Greg’s last thought as he succumbed to unconsciousness was of getting to Dave.
The next morning, the phone
rang. “Hate crimes, Williams. WHAT?” All color drained from his face and a lone
tear flowed down his face. “When?” He asked in a barely audible whisper. “Thank
you. We’ll be right there.”
Alerted to the sudden change in
his partner’s demeanor, Erik asked “Jay, what’s wrong? What happened? Is it
Kyle?”
“The LGBT Center was bombed last
night. Over two-hundred people have been killed or severely injured, many of
them police officers.”
“Holy shit! Let’s roll.” They
quickly arrived at the scene and were shocked to see the devastation.
Scanning the list of victims he
was given upon arriving at the scene, Jay’s eyes locked on two names. “I have
to get to the hospital.”
“Why, what’s up?”
“Look at this.” He pointed to
Dave’s name on the list.
“Dave Barton? Good God, no.” He
turned to the police officer who greeted them. “Are you sure about this list?
It’s accurate?”
“Yes sir. I verified most of the
identities myself, Special Agent Hunter.”
“Thank you Officer Owens. Jay,
you go on ahead. I’ll meet you there later. I’ll get started on the
investigation.”
“Thanks, Erik.” Jay jumped into
the car and sped to the hospital. He approached the receptionist and presented
his ID. “I’m FBI Special Agent Williams. I’m investigating last night’s bombing
of the LGBT Center and I need to speak with a couple of the victims, Dave
Barton and Greg Peters.”
The receptionist tapped a couple
of keys on her computer. “I’m sorry Agent Williams, but I can’t release any
information to you at this time.”
Balked, but not defeated, Jay
thanked the receptionist then went in search of Doctor Foster. He flashed his
ID at Doctor Foster’s secretary. “Hi, I’m Special Agent Williams with the FBI.
I need to speak with Doctor Foster, please. It’s important.”
“One moment please.” She picked
up her phone. “Doctor Foster, there’s a Special Agent Williams from the FBI
here to see you. Okay.” She hung up. “Please have a seat. He’ll be right with
you.”
“Thank you.” Jay sat on the edge
of the chair, his foot taping nervously. After about five minutes the door
opened and Doctor Foster came out.
“Hi, Jayson, what can I do for
you? Is Kyle okay?”
“He’s fine, Doc, thanks for
asking. I’m investigating the bombing of the LGBT Center last night and I need
some information on the survivors.”
“Come on in. I’m not sure what I
can tell you, but let’s see what I can find out.” They entered his spacious
office and sat down. Doctor Foster started typing on his computer, his face
turning grim at what he read on the screen. “One hundred-eighty-nine were dead
on arrival, twenty-three of which have not yet been identified. Another
thirty-four were admitted for observation and minor injuries. Four are in
intensive care in critical condition.”
“Can you give me the names of the
four?”
“Ordinarily, no, not until the
families have been notified, but since the FBI’s involved and I know I can
count on your discretion, I will on the condition that the names do not get
released to anyone outside of those absolutely essential to the investigation.
“On that you have my solemn word
as an FBI agent.
“Okay.” Doctor Foster looked at
the computer screen again. “Dave Barton, Greg Peters, Gwen Jordan and Kevin
Jordan. He caught Jay’s pale, stricken look.
“Jay, what’s wrong?”
“Greg Peters was one of the
investigating officers who helped Kyle so much when he was raped. He and Dave
Barton are boyfriends. Greg was instrumental in getting his ex-partner fired
from the police force and also his precinct commander, both of whom were
extremely homophobic. It would not surprise me if this was some form of
retaliation. As a matter of fact, Kyle was the one who brought the two of them
together. Are they in the same room?”
Doctor Foster checked the
computer again. “No, they’re not.”
“I would strongly recommend that
they be put in the same room. I’ll have guards posted on all four of them.
Besides, it will be easier on them if they’re together. We also need to keep
their identities under wraps, especially Greg’s. If my initial suspicions are
correct, his ex-partner is behind this and we don’t want to take the chance of
someone coming after him here. As a matter of fact, it might not be a bad idea
to list him among the dead.”
“What about his family?”
“As far as he’s concerned, he
doesn’t have any. They haven’t had anything to do with him since he came out,
but I’ll get in touch with them and let them know what has happened and to
disregard any information they may hear or see about his death unless it comes
directly from me.”
“Sounds like a plan. Let me know
when you’ve made contact with his family and I’ll put him on the deceased list.
Care to take a walk down to the ICU with me?”
“Sure thing, Doc. Lead the way.”
“Doctor Foster, please dial the
operator. Doctor Foster, operator please,” came the overhead page.
Doctor Foster got out his cell
phone and dialed the operator. “Becky, its Doctor Foster. What can I do for
you?”
“The Police Commissioner is here
asking for information about his officers and wants to talk to some of them.”
“Please have Security escort him
to the ICU in a few minutes. I’ll meet him there shortly. Thanks, Becky.”
Upon entering the ICU, Doctor
Foster went into the Nurse’s station and examined the room assignment board.
“Jennifer,” he called to the nurse intently watching the monitors.
“Yes, Doctor?”
“We have a security situation
and need to move some patients around. We need to move Greg Peters and Dave
Barton into this room together, Gwen Jordan to this room and Kevin Jordan to
this room.” He indicated the appropriate rooms. “Also, remove Greg Peters’ name
from the board and list him as ‘John Doe.’ His name is not to be mentioned
until further notice. This is FBI Special Agent Williams. He is to be notified
immediately as soon as either Greg Peters or Dave Barton regain consciousness.
Jayson, do you have one of your cards you can leave?”
“Of course, Doctor.” He handed
over one of his business cards.
“I’m assuming you’re going to
want to post guards.”
“Yes, but I think it would be
best if they were not in uniform, and are stationed just inside the door. We
don’t want to attract any attention, nor do we want to put any of your staff at
risk.”
“A bit unorthodox, but I trust
your judgment, Jayson. Who do you want posted, hospital security, FBI, PPD?”
The Commissioner arrived just
then and introductions were made.
“All but twenty-three have been
identified, Commissioner.” Doctor Foster went round the desk and tapped a few
keys on the nearest computer. Moments later a printer sprang to life spitting
out several sheets of paper which Doctor Foster retrieved. “Here is the list of
confirmed dead.”
As the Commissioner scanned the
list, his face grew more and more pale. “Fifty-four of these are police
officers.” Amidst his sorrow, hope began to build when he finally reached the end
of the list and hadn’t spotted the two names he was most interested in.
“Commissioner, why were there so
many police officers at the LGBT Center. Did something happen to warrant it?”
“It was the inaugural meeting of
a fellowship group for LGBT officers I had established to help them deal with
problems associated with being gay and police officers, such as homophobic
supervisors and the like. I was actually planning on being there, but got held
up at my office.”
“That probably saved your life.
Commissioner, perhaps you might want to sit down.” Jay offered.
“Why?”
Doctor Foster handed him another
sheet of paper. “This is the list of the four survivors who are in critical
condition.”
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