When Big Bob got into work just before midnight on Sunday, his partner, Scottie Connor, told him the captain wanted to see him. Bob knew that Captain Williams wouldn't be in until the next morning so he'd have to have a completely dry night.
"Okay Scottie, listen man, I'll drive."
Since the two of them had been matched up over two years ago, Big Bob hadn't driven more than a half dozen times. Being twelve years younger, half his size and utterly in fear of him, Scottie never complained. He privately hoped Big Bob Willis would just disappear from the face of the earth, but never shared that thought with anyone, not even his wife.
Big Bob spent the uneventful night of patrolling the northeast tip of Long Island wondering what the captain wanted to talk to him about. He was fairly sure no one had brought any brutality charges against him. The last few months had provided little opportunity to crack any heads and on the few occasions that presented themselves, he had managed to abstain. He decided it would turn out to be something unimportant, some clerical problem.
He sat outside the captain's office for almost an hour. He'd seen him come in and he watched several cops go in and come out. "Goddamn nigger's breakin' my balls," he thought. "Just breakin' my balls."
It was more than appropriate that Big Bob Willis worked for the only black captain on the east end of Long Island. Capt. Walter Williams knew very well of Big Bob's reputation and predilection to abuse minorities. He was, of course, aware of how prevalent that kind of thing was among all his men, but Bob Willis' history, his documented history, had placed him in his very own special category.
"The captain will see you now."
Bob walked in to find Captain Williams at his desk, writing.
Protocol dictated he wait until the captain addressed him. He sat on a small, hard wooden chair directly in front of the captain, but as the chair was much lower to the ground than William's desk Big Bob, for one of the few times in his life felt small. Sweat began to appear on Bob's forehead. He wiped his hands on his pants several times, biting his lip as he did so. It felt like five minutes though it probably was one or two when the captain finally spoke.
"Good morning, Officer Willis. Please sit down. Let me get right to the point."
Big Bob still had no idea what was coming, but was now sure that whatever it was, it wasn't clerical.
"I believe it would be best for all of us if you put your retirement papers in immediately. If you'd like, I'll go into the reasons, but I'd prefer not to."
Big Bob sat stoically for a moment before speaking. A liquor-free night allowed him a far greater level of logic than ordinarily would have been available to him. It dictated he not go quietly, at least not right away.
"I'm in good health. I love my job and I think I still have something to offer this department, sir. I know I've had some things in my past that you were unhappy with, but I've had no troubles in quite a while. I'd really like to know what's going on."
Now it was Capt. Williams' turn to be slow to respond. Finally he called through his intercom.
"Send Officer Stewart in."
Bob recognized the name but, as with so many things from his not so distant past, he couldn't remember who it was. When Stewart came in, his face wasn't familiar.
"Officer Willis, Officer Stewart is from Internal Affairs." That's where I know the name Big Bob thought. He's the son-of-a-bitch that brought me up on charges of drinking on the job a few years ago.
"He's been following you around for the last several weeks and
he's got enough on you to get you thrown off the force five
times. The problem is if we charge you, your partner is going to
be involved and that would be a shame. His crime was in not
reporting you, but your conduct has been so abominable that I'm
afraid his penalty would be severe. I repeat, it would be best if
you just retired right away. I'll even get you into an alcohol
rehabilitation program. We'll pay. If you want to think it over
for a few days be my guest. As of this moment, you're on sick
leave." He hesitated and Bob didn't respond. "Come in and see me
Friday morning. You're excused, Officer Willis."
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Material Copyright © 1998-2003 by Jim Bearden