Cause to Run

Once Ramirez was back in the car and the other officers were safely out of firing distance, Avery stepped forward.

The Latino man smiled.

“Look at that,” he said and pointed his gun. “You’re the serial killer cop, right? Way to go, Black. That guy was fucking crazy. You got him good. Hey!” he yelled at the woman on her knees. “Stop fuckin’ squirming around. Can’t you see I’m trying to have a conversation?”

“What did she do?” Avery asked.

“Fuckin’ bitch fucked my best friend. That’s what she did. Didn’t you, bitch?”

“Damn,” Avery said. “That’s cold. She ever do anything like that before?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess she cheated on her last man with me, but shit, I married the bitch! That’s got to count for something, right?”

“Definitely,” Avery agreed.

He was slight of frame, with a narrow face and missing teeth. He glanced at the growing audience, then looked up at Avery like a guilty child and whispered:

“This don’t look good, right?”

“No,” Avery answered. “It’s not good. Next time, you might want to handle this in the privacy of your own home. And quietly,” she said softly and stepped closer.

“Why you getting so close?” he wondered with a cocked brow.

Avery shrugged.

“It’s my job,” she said as if it were a distasteful chore. “The way I see it? You have two choices. One: You come in quietly. You already screwed up. Too loud, too public, too many witnesses. Worst-case scenario? She presses charges and you have to get a lawyer.”

“She’s not pressing no fucking charges,” he said.

“I won’t, baby. I won’t!” she swore.

“If she doesn’t press charges, then you’re looking at aggravated assault, resisting arrest, and a few other minor infractions.”

“Will I have to serve some time?”

“Have you been arrested before?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Five-year stint for attempted manslaughter.”

“What’s your name?”

“Fernando Rodriguez.”

“You still on parole, Fernando?”

“Nah, parole was up two weeks ago.”

“OK.” She thought for a moment. “Then you’ll probably have to be behind bars until this gets worked out. Maybe a month or two?”

“A month?!”

“Or two,” she reiterated. “Come on. Let’s be honest. After five years? That’s nothing. Next time? Keep it private.”

She was right in front of him, close enough to disarm him and free the victim, but he was already calming down. Avery had seen people like him before when dealing with some of the Boston gangs, men who’d been beaten down for so long that the slightest infraction could make them snap. But ultimately, when given a chance to relax and take stock of their situation, their story was always the same: they just wanted to be comforted, helped, and made to feel like they weren’t alone in the world.

“You used to be a lawyer, right?” the man said.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “But then I made a stupid mistake and my life turned to shit. Don’t be like me,” she warned. “Let’s end this now.”

“What about her?” He pointed at his wife.

“Why would you want to be with someone like her?” Avery asked.

“I love her.”

Avery sucked in her lips and challenged him with a stare.

“Does this look like love?”

The question seemed to genuinely bother him. With a furrowed brow, he glanced from Avery to his wife and back to Avery again.

“No,” he said and lowered his gun. “This ain’t no way to love.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Avery said. “Give me that gun and let these guys take you in quietly and I’ll promise you something.”

“What promise?”

“I promise I’ll check in on you and ensure you get treated right. You don’t look like a bad guy to me, Fernando Rodriguez. You just look like you’ve had a rough life.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said.

“No,” she agreed. “I don’t.”

She held out a hand.

He let go of his hostage and handed over the gun. Instantly, his wife scrambled across the lawn and ran to safety. The aggressive cop that had been prepared to open fire came forward with a snarling look of thinly veiled jealousy.

“I’ll take it from here,” he sneered.

Avery got in his face.

“Do me a favor,” she whispered. “Stop acting like you’re better than the people you arrest and treat him like a human being. It might help.”

The cop blushed in anger and seemed ready to push past and destroy the tranquil vibe that Avery had created. Thankfully, the second officer reached the Latino man first and handled him with care. “I’m going to cuff you now,” he said softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get treated right. I have to read you your rights. Is that OK? You have the right to remain silent…”

Avery backed away.

The Latino aggressor glanced up. The two held each other’s gaze for a moment. He offered a nod of thanks, and Avery responded with a nod of her own. “I meant what I said,” she reiterated before she turned to leave.