Based on the episode Two for the Road
October 1987
I haven't felt like myself since Pacino died. I've known that dog for years, Jenko called him my brother and I was his sister. I just can't stop thinking about his last moments and how I left him while he was dying. If I had known when it happened, could I have saved him? Did he know that I came back and I was there for him? It pains me that I'll never know.
After he died, Tom kept checking in on me and making sure I was okay. It was really sweet. He knew how much Pacino meant to me, and I appreciated his efforts to comfort me. He really is a great guy. Even Doug came around and he helped me get a new bedroom door since Pacino busted down the other one. He has always been my go-to handyman.
It's been about a month, and I'll never get over it but life goes on. I feel like I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him, I couldn't tell him how much he meant to me. I know he knows... but it's been eating at me. I don't think I'll be able to get another dog again.
At least now I have two guardian angels out there for me. I've kept his toys around, because it makes it feel like he's still here. I'll donate them soon so other dogs can enjoy them... but just not right now.
This particular morning, Fuller had been answering every phone call that came through to the chapel. I was standing with Doug and Tom at Tom's desk, waiting for Fuller to transfer the call he had just answered.
The chapel was busy. It was swarming with officers, the phone felt like it was ringing nonstop, we had typewriters clicking and ringing from all sides of the squad-room, and officers were discussing their cases loudly to hear each other over all the other noise. I'm not used to the chapel being this hectic.
Penhall said once Fuller hung up, "you know, Captain, we pay people to answer the phones."
"Mmhm, but we don't pay you to tell me that," Fuller said.
Tom leaned into Doug's ear and made a funny noise, then showed us his toy helicopter.
"Take a look at this, Hanson." Fuller handed Tom an identification card and he showed it to me and Doug. "It's a forgery. Vice has turned up 300 of these in the last eighteen months, all from the same shop. I'm putting you, Ioki, Gregg, and Hoffs on this with Penhall."
"Five cops on a fake ID case? Isn't that a little top heavy?" Tom asked. Fuller looked at Tom with a blank stare. Tom got uncomfortable and ended with, "sir?"
"Teenage drunk driving accidents have tripled in the past twelve months, Hanson. I thought there might be a connection," Fuller said matter-of-factly.
"You want me on this case, sir?" I asked.
Fuller turned to me. "Why would I not?"
"I am not twenty-one yet," I reminded him. Did he not know?
He squinted at me. "You're not?"
"I'm very close," I reassured.
"You are not," Doug said. Then he told Fuller, "she turns twenty in December."
"That might be to our advantage," Fuller said, "but no drinking. That goes for you too, boys."
"You got it, Cap," I said and popped my bubble gum. I glanced down at my hand to itch my wrist and I inspected the purple scar across my knuckles from the stitches I got after a bullet nearly blew a hole in my hand. I keep putting oil on it and massaging it to try to make it go away, but I think this scar is going to stay with me for the rest of my life.
"Okey-dokey," Tom said.
"Wait, how did you get into that club last month then?" Fuller asked.
"I had a fake," I told him.
"Where'd you get it?"
I stayed silent. I could get in big trouble for having a fake that wasn't approved by Fuller. I only have it for work related purposes. It was approved by Jenko, but that's moot now.
He pointed at me and said, "get rid of it and I'll get you another one."
"Got it," I finally spoke up.
The phone started ringing again and Fuller asked me to grab a folder from storage. I went off to grab the Manila folder he asked for and brought it back to him.
When I came back, Fuller was finishing a conversation on the phone with Doug and Tom looking slightly suspicious in their chairs. I handed Fuller the folder.
Tom was fiddling with a toy helicopter and Doug was holding the base of the rotary phone. Fuller set the receiver down and asked sternly, "what did you think you were doing, Penhall?"
"I was just laying a little groundwork for you. You've got it, don't you?" He said in a funny voice. I naturally assumed that Doug had gotten to the phone before Fuller did.
Fuller stared at him, unamused. Doug's smile quickly disappeared and Tom looked down at his hands. I wanted to ask what he did, but this was obviously not the time.
Fuller said, "I want to know where these kids are drinking, which bars are looking the other way. I also want—" Tom rolled his eyes and looked the other way. Fuller noticed. "You got a problem with that Hanson?"
Tom looked up at Fuller and answered, "I don't know. There's something about coming down on these kids."
Fuller looked at Tom sternly and said, "last year— 5,000 kids were hosed off the dashboards of their parents' cars. I've made a few of those calls. You know, where you knock on somebody's door at 4 o'clock in the morning and they say, what's wrong? Then you got to tell them. Your kid is dead. And he was only 16."
I looked down at my hands, knowing exactly what it's like to be on both sides of that door. I fiddled with my thumbs as Fuller talked and I finally looked up to see Tom looking back at me somberly.
Fuller paused and asked me, "you all right, Gregg?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I reassured with a smile. I cleared my throat and leaned against the desk near me. Topics like this made me feel vulnerable, and I did not want my whole team to know. I hated feeling weak.
Fuller took three ID's from the folder and handed one to each of us. "I had these made up."
"No offense, Captain, but, uh, these are gonna be spotted as fakes in a second and a half," Doug said after he took his.
I glanced down at the fake and thought it was some sort of weird joke that Fuller was pulling, but Fuller doesn't joke around with things like this. However, Metropolis was misspelled, the lamination felt cheap, and the corner of it was already peeling. Even the font wasn't consistent throughout the card.
"You think so?" Fuller asked. He quickly left, and Doug shrugged at us as we watched Fuller walk away.
Doug took a long look at his new fake and then showed it to us. "Do yours look like that?"
We all inspected each other's fake IDs and I notice that Tom's has air bubbles from the poor lamination. These IDs were a lot bigger than normal IDs and much thinner. You could hold it against the wind wrong and it'll rip. Tom pointed at mine and asked, "your middle name is Janine?"
I chuckled and nodded. "Yeah. I got it from some great-great grandma."
Tom smiled softly while he eyed his own ID. "Michelle Janine," he repeated softly under his breath.
"What the hell does Fuller expect us to do with these?" Doug groaned. "He has gotta know these look like they were printed at a school library."
"He's a smart guy, he probably has a plan," I stated and slipped my fake in my pocket.
"Hope so. If we get arrested for the bad proof he will be my one phone call," Doug said.
The phone rang again for the millionth time today. I quickly picked it up just so I would stop hearing that dreadful ring rattle my eardrums. As I listened to whoever was on the other end from headquarters rattle on about something to do with some report that was filed incorrectly, Doug sauntered away and Tom looked at me as he lifted up the toy helicopter with a closed-mouth grin and he walked off.
_______________________________
At the chapel, I was doing paperwork next to Doug when Judy and Tom came up to us. Doug's eyes were closed as he complained about how boring paperwork is.
"Gregg, Penhall, listen to this," Tom said.
"Go ahead. I feel like I'm asleep," Doug said, slumped in his chair.
"I did some check on TJ's friend, Jonathan Kelley. About two months ago, he and TJ were in a car wreck. They were both wasted on alcohol. Jonny's blood level was a 0.24," Judy told us.
"Who?" I asked.
"TJ is a kid over at the high school that Tom and I are stationed at," Doug explained, "we came across him at the cemetery."
"You guys are drinking with teenagers at a cemetery in the middle of the day now?" I asked in a playful manner.
"We are just doing our jobs," Tom defended, not really sensing my sarcasm.
"Damn, okay," I muttered under my breath. He seems so uptight about this.
"What was his blood level again?" Doug asked.
"0.24," Judy repeated.
"I'm surprised he could drive," Doug said, sitting up straighter.
"Apparently, he couldn't. TJ walked away from it, but, um, Jonny was paralyzed from the neck down with permanent brain damage," Judy said.
"Then, a couple weeks ago, TJ's taking Jonny for a walk on some bridge, and somehow Jonny winds up in the river. TJ jumps in, tries to save him, but, uh, he couldn't," Tom informed us.
"Jonny was driving that night?" I asked.
"That's what the reports say," Judy answered.
"Yeah, well, remind me never to stand next to that guy in an electrical storm," Doug said as he got up from his chair and began walking toward the water cooler with the rest of us following him. "So you think we can establish a link between the Letter Box and that accident."
"Well, they're serving a lot of underage kids," Tom said, "there might be a way to revoke their license if we can get TJ to testify."
"I'm sure Jonathan's parents would love to see something like that happen," Judy said.
"You think he'll do it?" Doug asked.
Tom said, "he already blames the bar for Jonny's death. At least, that's the way he sounded at the cemetery."
I said, "I can join Hanson and Penhall for the festivities over at the Letter Box. Since I'm really underage, it will be better with seeing if I can pull it off."
Hoffs began saying, "me and Ioki can go bang on the door of the alcohol—" before she was interrupted by Fuller walking into the chapel. In fact, every officer's conversations stopped at his entrance. Everyone stopped and stared at him, but I was confused.
"What's going on?" I asked in a low voice.
"Captain got arrested last night," Tom leaned and whispered to me.
"DUI," Judy added and my jaw dropped.
Fuller chuckled at everyone and said, "let me guess... you heard I got arrested last night."
He walked up next to Tom as he leaned against the water cooler and Doug said, "it, uh, kind of leaked out."
"Well, just to set you straight, this all started because some rookie cop went overboard," Fuller defended. People were trying to listen in on the conversation between the five of us, but they eventually gave up and went about their business.
"Well, we knew it was something like that," Judy said.
"Something like what?" Fuller asked defensively.
"Just a misunderstanding," I clarified. Even I know the frustration of a rookie cop going overboard. I'm still pissed that I got pulled over, and that was a month ago.
"Something like you weren't really drinking," Doug said.
"Thanks for the support," Fuller said.
Tom was looking down at the ground and he asked, "were you drinking?"
"No," Fuller answered quickly.
"Well, then there's nothing to worry about, is there?" Doug said.
Fuller said, "I had a couple of glasses of wine, Penhall. I wasn't drinking."
"Oh," Doug said.
"So, you're saying, that you would give Gregg, someone who is underage, a glass of wine or two?" Tom asked firmly.
"No," Fuller answered sternly, "because she is underage."
"So those two glasses would count as drinking?" Tom asked.
"There's a big distinction," Fuller said firmly, "look, if you don't mind, I'd rather keep my personal life personal."
Doug shot him a thumbs up with his mug handle balancing between his fingers. It looked small in his hand.
"So, how's it going?" Fuller asked, changing the subject.
"Well, uh, just like I thought, Angelo the waiter took one look at the fake ID you gave us, laughed us right out of the bar," Doug said.
"Oh. So, now what?" Fuller asked.
"So now, I guess we hook up with Kenny, try to get some fake IDs like his," Doug said. Kenny is another kid from the high school that Doug had befriended.
"You don't think that, um, maybe that's what I had in mind when I gave you the bad proof?" Fuller asked.
Doug chuckled, "okay. All right. You got me. I'm sorry. I underestimated you. It'll never happen again."
"Good," Fuller said. He eyed Doug, whose smile dropped and he walked away, right between Judy and Doug which made them step out of the way. Doug's eyes blew up as he dramatically mouthed, 'wow'.
"Sounds just a little bit defensive, don't you think?" Judy asked.
"Come on," Tom said, "it was one of those boredom banquets. Everybody has a couple of drinks. Doesn't make you drunk. Fuller's right." He started to walk away.
"I can't agree with you, Hanson," I said which made him stop. "It might not make him drunk, but he needs to be more responsible."
"You're gonna tell the captain to be more responsible?" Tom chuckled.
"I'm just saying... every time you have a little something to drink and decide to get behind the wheel, you are risking not only your life, but the innocent lives of others."
"He's a big boy, he knows how to handle his own alcohol," Doug said.
I pushed my hair behind my shoulder before I glanced at Doug, "if that's your motto, remind me to never get in the car with you. Any amount of alcohol can still affect your driving even if you're under 0.08." I turned to Tom and let my thoughts spill out of my mouth, "what's the excuse? Not wanting to pay for a cab? Being embarrassed? Being buzzed is not the same as being drunk, right? But you don't need to be wasted to be under the influence. You are a cop, you should know that."
"Woah, where's this coming from?" Tom asked.
"Nothing, nothing." I shook my head to try to get him to forget about it.
"Talk to me, Gregg."
"Just forget about it. It's nothing," I said and finally walked away.
I sat down at my desk and distracted myself with paperwork to get my mind off this personal case. I could feel their eyes on me, but I didn't care. I chewed on the end of my pink eraser to keep the decade old memory from floating back into my head.
_____________________________
I joined Tom and Penhall to get the realistic fake ID's. We took pictures in front of a cardboard poster with our names and addresses and personal information on the front. Our little disagreement from earlier was pushed aside and forgotten to get the job done.
"So, how long do we have to wait?" Tom asked.
"Think you can maybe go 10 minutes so I can develop these? Or would you rather just take the negatives?" The man who was making our fake ID's asked sarcastically.
He hid his fake cardboard behind another poster, so no one knew where it was. We stepped out of the way and headed over to Kenny. Kenny was the kid with the realistic fake ID at the high school that Doug and Tom were undercover at, and I came in as Doug's cousin named Michelle Indiana. I got the last name from Indiana Jones.
"Uh, don't mind him. He gets a little cranky when he doesn't nap," Doug joked, patting Tom's shoulder.
"So, you want the whole package?" The man asked.
"What's the whole package?" Doug asked.
"Listen," the man said, "there's plenty of quality licensers floating around. But I make available to my customers the all important second ID."
"That was my idea," Kenny said proudly.
"No," Doug said sarcastically and Kenny nodded.
"So that's $150 all together. Cash money," the man ordered.
"Well, I couldn't really write you a check because I don't have a picture ID," Tom said sarcastically.
The man looked at Tom with his mouth open, almost in shock, and Kenny stepped in, "they're new."
The man said, "these IDs are for amusement only. You got that?"
We agreed and took our new fakes and went straight to the Letter Box, ditching Kenny and getting a table with a kid named Brian that the boys had met at school. Brian had a mullet, wore a jean jacket, and looked like he should still be wearing braces. In other words, he looked quite young. Like a child.
The waiter, Angelo, asked, "you fellas gonna try it again?"
We handed him our IDs before he took a quick look at them and handed them back. "Oh, nice work. What'll you guys have?"
"Just bring us a pitcher, okay, Angelo?" Brian asked.
"Pitcher?"
"Thanks, pal," he said while Angelo walked away.
"So, uh, Brian, what's the story with Trace?" Doug asked, "you got your own personal groupie or what?"
All of our attention was brought to a young girl by the pool table, with a blue shirt and jeans. She looked like a child. An actual child. No one in their right mind would see her ID and think it's remotely real.
Brian shook his head. "No. She's cool. She just hangs out with us. Plus, she makes a good barometer."
"What do you mean?" Doug asked, leaning forward on the table.
"Well, as soon as me and Kenny start thinking about hitting on her, we know we've been drinking too much," Brian said and it took every ounce of my being to not vomit in my mouth at his comment.
Tom nodded and said, "exactly," just as he and Doug checked their watches at the same time. I swear, these men share the same brain cell. Singular.
I looked up to see a kid walk in smoking a cigarette. He walked over to the juke box, and leaned against it while looking at the music selections. Doug's face lit up when he saw him, and he started making clicking noises with his tongue, but Tom was oblivious. Then, Doug blew into his ear and Tom finally looked back at him. He nodded toward the kid, and we saw him start walking toward the bar. Tom looked back at us, and Doug and I nodded so Tom got up to follow the kid up to the bar.
"Who is that?" I asked Doug, keeping my eye on the kid and Tom.
"That's TJ," Doug answered.
I raised my eyebrows as I understood. "With the vegetable friend?"
Doug nodded.
Doug and I talked to Brian a little longer before Tom came back and said that we had to go. He was mad, but tried not to let it show. We left, and Tom never told us what vexed him about his short conversation with TJ.
______________________________
I sat with Tom at the Letter Box the next day and Penhall joined us. Tom and I hadn't been there very long, we just got a basket of fries and Tom ordered a beer but he wasn't drinking it. It was pretty quiet between us. We weren't really talking, so the silence was a little awkward. I think Tom was still a little upset over our little disagreement the other day.
Doug asked, "what do you guys say we try to get Tracy or Brian to make a statement?" He grabbed a fry from our basket and tossed it into his mouth.
"We can't commit this place," Tom reminded him.
"Those two are here all the time," I added as I adjusted the strap on my overalls. I had a plain grey t-shirt protecting my skin from the denim and the bottoms cuffed a bit to show my black high top converse. "It doesn't seem like they'd be willing to give up the one bar that they can sneak into."
The front door opened and our attention was turned to the newcomer. It was TJ. His button up shirt was not buttoned correctly, and it was opened at the chest with his leather jacket over it. His eyes were squinting under the harsh light, and his disheveled appearance was complimented by his colorless complexion. His hair was messy, and he stumbled around aimlessly until he found the bar.
Doug and I looked at Tom and Tom said, "at least TJ's not worried about getting loaded anymore."
"He's been sober since the accident?" I asked.
Tom nodded. "He was very against drinking... until now."
"Sounds to me like it's a self-destructive tendency," I said, hearing TJ make a strong order to the bartender. "Problem drinker."
"Since when did you become a psychologist?" Doug asked me.
"Since I got my badge," I replied, "TJ isn't looking too hot."
The bartender poured TJ a shot of something brown, but Tom and I made it over to him before he could grab the shot. Tom put his hand over the mouth of the little glass and brought it down out of his reach.
In a soft voice, Tom said to him, "hey, TJ. How you doing?"
TJ rested against his elbow on the counter and Tom placed his hand on TJ's arm. He was sweating, and his hand was shaking.
"TJ, how are you feeling?" I asked. My nose twitched when I smelled him, because all I smelled was liquor.
He slurred, "I'm fine."
We both knew he was not fine. Tom said, "listen, why don't we give you a lift home, huh?"
TJ shook his head groggily. "Hey, no thanks. I'm—I'm fine."
Tom and I looked at each other at the same time, and I could tell that the gears in his brain were turning about what we should do with the kid. I looked back at Doug and noticed him talking to Tracy at another table. I left Tom with TJ because TJ seemed to trust Tom, and I walked over to Doug and Tracy.
Moments later, Tom walked over to the table and said, "I'm gonna give TJ a ride home, all right? He's kinda— oh great. He's gone."
My head shot back up toward the bar and noticed that TJ was gone. The front door was slowly closing, and we knew that he had run out. Tom sprinted out the door, and I instinctively followed him.
"TJ, don't!" Tom shouted just as I saw a dark car drive off with an intoxicated TJ behind the wheel. My heart was pounding at the situation and my stomach was churning in knots.
Tom patted my shoulder urgently and said, "hop in the passenger seat!"
Tom quickly slid over the hood of his car and jumped into the drivers seat as I got into the passengers seat and we sped off after TJ. Tom put a red flashing light on the roof of the car, indicating that we were cops on pursuit.
Tom continuously honked at TJ, but he was not pulling over. We were right on his tail, watching him swerve around the road, and driving uncontrollably in the daylight.
"TJ! Pull over!" Tom shouted and kept honking.
"TJ!" I yelled out my window, but he was not stopping.
Tom revved the engine and drove up alongside TJ so he could call out out the window, "TJ, pull over!"
TJ glanced over at us somberly but kept driving.
"I feel like he isn't planning on getting out of that car, Tom," I stated, "he's going to end up killing someone if he's trying to kill himself."
"Pull over!" Tom shouted louder, agreeing with me.
TJ suddenly gained speed and took a sharp left turn, nearly hitting a car driving in the intersection who had the right of way. TJ side swiped a parked car, with the noise of the metal bending and glass breaking filling the air. We watched him drive into the grass before a tree trunk stopped him from driving any further. His car wrapped around the tree, with smoke coming out from the engine.
"Oh my god," I said as Tom parked across the street and we ran over to TJ together. The horn was endlessly honking as TJ was slumped over the wheel.
Tom reached the open window and TJ had leaned back into his seat, making the horn cease.
"TJ, you all right?" Tom asked him. I put my hands on my hips, relieved that he was all right but very pissed at the situation.
TJ had a cut through his eyebrow, and a busted lip. He asked, "what?"
Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, "you're under arrest, man. I'm a cop."
I reached into the pocket of my overalls and pulled out my badge to show him as well. TJ looked at the both of us in disbelief. Tom got TJ out of the car, and I reached in to put the car in gear and I turned off the ignition.
We got TJ to Jump Street, where he laid puking his guts out in the toilet of one of our jail stalls. Tom was sitting in the stall with him, trying to talk him into testifying against the bar that allowed minors to drink alcohol illegally. The Letter Box was the same bar that he and his friend Jonny went to the night of the accident.
I was filing out the report for the bust when a man came into the chapel and said that he was there for TJ. I stood up and introduced myself as I walked him to the cell and said, "Tom."
"Yeah?" Tom sounded discouraged.
"Mr. Caldwell is here to sign TJ out," I said.
Tom turned to TJ and I opened the cell door for him to walk out.
His dad asked TJ when he walked out of the cell, "you okay?"
TJ put his leather jacket on and said, "hungover."
"Good," Mr. Caldwell said and they sat down at a nearby desk.
"What happened?" Mr. Caldwell asked Tom. I kept the door open for Tom and closed it when he walked out.
Tom answered, "well, he side swiped a parked car, wrapped himself around a tree. I'd say he was drunk."
"A tree never hits an automobile except in self defense," I muttered as I headed back over to my desk.
His dad was not amused and did not seem to understand the severity of the situation as he sighed, "TJ's had a tough couple of months."
"He could have killed somebody today." Tom's voice rose. "Now, look. I understand he's had a rough time. But you're gonna have to get TJ some help, Mr. Caldwell, because your son is a problem drinker."
"My son has problems when he drinks. There's a difference."
Tom shook his head. "No, there isn't." Tom handed TJ his business card with his name and number and said, "you give me a call."
TJ pocketed the card and after Judy signed them out, TJ and his dad left.
Tom sighed as he stood up and meandered to his desk. My earlier conversation with him by the water cooler left a bad taste in my mouth, especially after the discussion with Mr. Caldwell so I walked over to him and said, "Tom?"
"Yeah?" Tom asked as he spun around in his chair.
"I-I'm sorry about the other day," I started, "about Fuller driving after the banquet and all."
"No need to apologize." Tom tried to wave it off.
"It's just..." I felt my voice grow slightly shaken but I swallowed the lump in my throat and ignored it. "When I was eight years old, my father was... out... and a cop had knocked on my door in the middle of the night. I was informed that my older brother died. He not only killed himself, but a family of four as well. They were..." my voice broke so I paused. Tom stood up and stepped close to me as I continued, "oh gosh, I'm sorry—" I sniffed with a sad little laugh, "—they were driving. Just driving."
Tom's face fell and he reached his arm out to take my hand and said, "Michelle—"
"It's been eleven years," I interrupted him to finish my story before the lump in my throat wouldn't let me anymore, "I've never forgotten seeing their pictures in the paper. Even months after the accident, I saw their faces every day. I'll never forget their names either."
"You were eight?" Tom asked. His eyes were big and sympathetic. He is a very empathetic person.
"I'm sorry," I chuckled to get myself to stop feeling so emotional. My face was burning up and I rolled my eyes up to try to suck the tears back in. I was feeling slightly embarrassed, but it's very different to talk about it rather than just think about it. "I just take this kind of thing really seriously. It's because of him that I don't drink, and I do not plan to drink, even when I am old enough."
Tom took a step forward and wrapped his arms around me. I asked with another sniff, "what are you doing?"
I felt his chest against mine as he exhaled and he whispered in my ear, "thank you for telling me."
I felt a little caught off guard, but I slowly allowed myself to hug him back. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. I knew he appreciated my honestly instead of just bottling it up inside, he's doesn't like it when I do that. But I've only known him for a few months, I don't want to plague him with my issues.
Even though it brought up bad memories, it felt good to tell someone about this. My other teammates know that my brother died when we were young from a car accident, but only Jenko knew the whole story. Someday I'll be able to tell everyone else, but just not yet.
___________________________
A couple days later, Tom was sitting at his desk when the phone rang. He wore a red and green plaid button up with a gray jacket over it. I was sitting at my desk filling out a report and I heard him answer, "Hanson."
There was a few seconds of silence as whoever was on the other end gave Tom information that made his face drop. He said, "yeah. I'll be right down, okay?"
He hung up and stood up, I asked, "what's happened?"
"It's TJ," he said.
"Is he all right? Where is he?"
"I'm not sure, I don't think so. He's at a park."
"Do you want me to come with?"
"N-no," he said, "it's not looking good. You should probably stay here."
I nodded and watched him walk out the door. That made me incredibly anxious, and I couldn't stop thinking about what was happening at the park. Was Tom going to be okay? Was TJ okay? Why didn't he want me there?
Tom didn't come back for the rest of the day. The next day, he brought pizza and sodas for lunch and told us the whole story. Ioki, Penhall, me, and Tom sat at one of the tables during our lunch break and filled our bellies with the greasy goodness. When I eat pizza I still think of Reggie, but I'm over that now.
"He loses his best friend, and chances are he's gonna be charged with manslaughter. All he thought he was doing was helping out a friend," Tom concluded after he told us that it was actually TJ who was driving the car that night, not Jonny like we previously believed. And TJ revealed to Tom that he pushed Jonny into the river to kill him out of mercy.
I later found out that TJ was at the park with a gun. I don't know if he had plans to kill himself at the park after confessing what he had done to Tom or what, but I learned that that was why Tom didn't want me to go just in case TJ decided to end his life in front of us. I wouldn't have been able to mentally handle that. I think TJ talking to Tom saved his life. He may be in custody now, but he's alive.
"You think TJ's gonna go to prison?" Penhall asked.
Tom scoffed, "I hope not. Where he should really be going is to a hospital."
"He really needs help," I agreed.
"How's that gonna affect the case?" Ioki asked.
"I don't know." Tom shook his head.
Judy and Fuller came up to us.
Tom looked up at him and asked, "hey, how'd it go, Captain?" He was referring to the trial and series of interviews that Fuller was plagued with for the past few days ever since his drunk driving arrest.
"I got off," Fuller said.
"Congratulations," Penhall said with a mouth full of pizza.
"Don't congratulate me, Penhall," Fuller snapped, "it wasn't a real smart thing to do. I think the next time I have a couple of drinks before driving home, I'll think twice."
"You can always call Gregg to give you a ride home," Penhall put his hand on my shoulder and shook me a little. "At least for the next year."
I chuckled, "I don't think I'll be drinking any time soon. But really, if you guys ever need a ride just give me a call. Day or night, I'll answer."
We all smiled up at Fuller, before he joined us for his lunch break.