The Sins of a District

by Alexander Whittle

  “I think you should sit down,” he said as he guided her towards the sofa,

  “Is this about me being really drunk that night? Because if so I’ve already been through all this with Mom last week, and I certainly don’t need to hear it all over again,” replied April trying to resist any awkward confrontational moments with her father.

  “Me and your mother have decided to press on with the divorce, we just wanted to let you know, and to let you know that we both still love you very much,” Said Ryan in a sympathetic tone of voice with one hand on her leg, hoping that she would understand and that she was adult enough to realise when two people just aren’t meant to be together anymore. April looked saddened and angry, her upper lip trembled slightly as he face crumpled, she then stormed off upstairs too angry to respond to her father’s announcement.

  Ryan was tempted to go after her as he leaned forward slightly perched on the edge of the coffee table, but he realised she just needed time to take in what was said. Ryan knew confronting her at this point could only upset her further, she needed her space. Just then Ryan’s mobile in his pocket began to jingle to the sound of his ringtone. It was Harry,

  “Hey, we need to meet, are you busy?” Harry said sounding frazzled on the other end.

  “No, I can meet, whereabouts?” Ryan replied knowing he could do no more to help April.

  “Good, meet me at Dupont Circle, by the fountain.”

  “Why there?”

  “Because I find it peaceful at this time of the evening, and a nice place for two old friends like us to chit-chat,” Harry replied.

  * * *

  Dupont Circle was a historic landmark in Washington D.C. It was one of the many central hubs for civilians, located at the intersection of Massachusetts Avenue, Connecticut Avenue, New Hampshire Avenue, P Street and 19th Street. In the Northwest district of D.C. it was a four lane traffic circle teaming with pedestrians, local shops, bookstores, hotels, banks, apartment buildings and nearby houses. The Metro line even ran directly underneath the circle and stopped at the Dupont station nearby. In the centre of the two circular counter clockwise roads was an area the size of a small park that held a regular farmer’s market on Sunday mornings and towards Christmas time would host many a snowball fight with the children and even some adults hoping to recapture their youth. Ryan parked on P Street, he crossed at the traffic lights directly opposite and began to walk towards the fountain. The sun’s light was diminishing and the evening was drawing near, the chill was apparent on Ryan’s breath as the vapour poured out with each and every exhale as he walked along. When he reached the edge of the spherically designed centre of the city landmark he stepped over the outer railing and onto the grass, past the row of benches that outlined the entire circumference of the island and beyond the area where people would sit on a nicer day to play chess. The street lights nearby were just starting to switch on as he approached further and further inwards, the leafless branches in the cold gave the park a fairy tale image. A fairy tale image, with Harry stood waiting for Ryan, standing at the edge of the fountain flicking nickels and dimes into the cauldron below while the water poured outwards from the main basin above. Ryan had a flashback to when he was once in love with his bride to be at the time Jessica; he had brought her here after dinner one night which was also happened to be a chilly night, early in year of 1994. When he was once a romantic with her he enjoyed eating lunch in the area, it gave him a sense of peace and muted tranquillity; these were some of the fonder memories of Washington he would always recollect in his mind for many years to come when little reminders like this appear. It was slightly quieter than usual with it being a cold evening; he approached Harry and threw a quarter of his own change from his pocket into the fountain, hoping it would bring him some much needed luck.

  “Finally, what took you so long?” Harry asked rubbing his hands together and breathing into them to try and regain some of the feeling in the tips of his fingers.

  “Sorry about that, family troubles, other people do have lives you know,”

  “Touchy aren’t we...” replied Harry,

  “Sorry...Jessica wants a divorce finally, and I had to tell April earlier,” Ryan said in response, “It’s just been a rough couple of weeks.”

  “A divorce? Ouch, can’t say I didn’t see it coming though, I hope you’re okay buddy,” Harry told his oldest friend, the pair of them walked towards a nearby vacant bench to sit down.

  “Just being here, reminds me of happier times in my life for once,” said Ryan, he was now fighting off the numbness beginning to show in the tips of his fingers. “So why am I here?” He then asked Harry, Ryan turned towards him on the wet bench still rubbing his hands together.

  “I need to tell you what’s going on, I’m in trouble and I don’t particularly have anywhere else to turn,” Harry said,

  “Shoot Harry, what’s the issue,” Ryan asked hoping to lay Harry’s outburst to rest.

  “Well I know that you know I recognised Peterson from that line-up last month in the Jamieson case. That’s what got me all riled up,” said Harry, this came as no great surprise to Ryan, in fact it was everything that he suspected. “I then called Eli Walker after I left the room, that’s who you saw me arguing with that afternoon.”

  “...And you are telling me this because?”

  “I know word got around the station about what happened. Things got a little heated over the phone, hence why I threw the phone and damaged the window,” Harry replied. Ryan just sat there puzzled and wondered what on earth Walker had to do with Harry or Wayne Peterson. Harry then went on to say to Ryan,

  “Walker and Peterson have a bit of a history, back in nineteen ninety-five, Walker put Peterson back in jail on a phony drugs charge,”

  “Good god why?!” Ryan demanded to know,

  “ He had a blind sense of self ambition at the time. He thought it would help his career in the eyes of the public if he sent a violent racial offender back to jail, but because his wife died a year later he never went on to have the world beating political career he wanted to have.” Harry told him.

  “I don’t understand, how do you know all of this? You and Walker aren’t exactly close last time I checked, you openly despise the man!” Ryan stated, he raised his tone of voice to Harry, but not too much as to concern any nearby people who may be able to hear the pair of them talking.

  “Walker keeps documents I’m sure of it, if we can just find them I’m certain we can bring this guy down,” Harry said.

  Ryan at this moment seemed completely unconvinced that Harry’s story was true, and that anyone in Walker’s position would be stupid enough to keep hold of documents instead of just simply destroying them.

  “Have you been drinking?” Ryan asked with a chuckle, “No one in their right mind would keep documents like that just lying around, IF what you say is true.”

  “It is true, because I helped him,” Harry replied, finally letting the secret out to his former partner.

  “What do you mean you helped him?” Ryan asked,

  “I took evidence from a local drug bust from earlier that week, and then gave it to Walker to plant in Peterson’s apartment for his parole officers to find.”

  “You idiot! If you had gotten caught you could have gone down for twenty fucking years!” Ryan said, he was completely shocked by this revelation that Harry just told him. “So let me guess, Peterson knows that Walker set him up and now that he is out of prison for good, he’s going after him?” Ryan then asked.

  “Yes, Walker said if he goes down he would try to drag me down too, and you, and most of the people who worked with us in nineteen ninety-five,” Harry told him, Ryan had his head in his hands and a silent and stunned reaction to the news.

  “How exactly can he drag us all down?” asked Ryan,

  “Walker claimed that he would just start dropping names to the press if he was ever cornered. You know what the press is like they would spin the story to an uncontrollable height. Besides the
people of this city are meant to trust us, all that will be gone,”

  “Why? Why did you do that to help Walker? Why break the law for him?” Ryan asked wanting to hear the truth from Harry.

  “I was in a dark place in my life, that’s all I can say,” he replied,

  “That’s all you can say?!” Ryan paused, “You’re on your own, you’re not dragging me down with you as well, just leave me out of it,” added Ryan. He got up and walked back towards where he parked on P Street, leaving one of his only true friends sat on the park bench in the cold of the evening air. The freezing air stung much less than Harry’s betrayal. When he got back in his car with his key in hand ready turn the ignition, he waited for a moment, Ryan began to grab the steering wheel and clutch it tightly with both hands. His anger was building inside of him. Then with an almighty thud he started to smack his fists repeatedly against the wheel violently for a good ten seconds. To any on-lookers this would have looked quite distressing, but luckily for Ryan at that time of the evening few people were hanging around outside to witness his very own outburst in the front seat of the rental car. He felt Harry had not just betrayed him but also the badge and everything it stood for between them. The one man Ryan could always count on had done the one thing Ryan could never abide by, hurting an innocent and using the law to hide behind that. He knew Peterson was no saint but the man didn’t deserve to go to jail just to help further one man’s career.

  Chapter II

  Two days after his more than eventful meeting with Harry at Dupont Circle, Ryan assumed Harry was chasing a dead end in trying to clear his name. Any forms or documents that had both of their names on would be long gone at this point Ryan figured. Walker would have no need to keep them if they incriminate him also. Ryan was left with quite a conundrum, does he help his friend, who had always been there for him during his many hours of need, thus perhaps incriminating himself in the process, or does he choose to stay as far clear as possible and try not to get sucked into an internal investigation. All Ryan knew was that this was a key decision he would not make quickly or lightly.

  That night he was once again sat on the sofa in his lounge, some light mood music was being played through the stereo that his daughter April had brought with her from Jessica’s house as he poured himself a non-alcoholic drink. His mind needed to be clear as he contemplated what to do about Harry, fearing booze would only cloud his judgement of the situation. Ryan realised a change in his life was needed to help the people around him, and choosing to not drink anymore would give him the strength he needed. He paced up and down his living room for several hours considering what to do. As he smoked cigarette after cigarette, the air in the room began to feel closer and closer, Ryan eventually grabbed his keys from the bowl beside the door, a bottle of Jack Daniels from his liquor cabinet and headed out the front for some fresh air. His weakness for a drink had taken over as he started to feel pressured by the situation. As he stood in his doorway he took a large swig from the bottle in his hand. Taking drink after drink he closed the door behind him and locked it, then slowly started to walk towards his car. The air still felt tight as he breathed in, his eyes blinking uncontrollably, the bottle was a third empty by the time he was sat behind the wheel. His stomach felt queasy from the mixture of downed alcohol and nervousness in the pit of his gut. Ryan placed the whiskey bottle on the passenger seat and turned the ignition. When he finally started the car he sped away into the night leaving only the track marks his tyres had left on the road, and the sound of a loud screeching noise to wake the neighbours. He casually drove down 16th Street, the glare and reflection of each and every street light flickering in the corner of his eyes; the sidewalks were vacant at this time. As he turned onto New Hampshire Avenue, all of a sudden the air inside the car began to feel heavy in his lungs much like it did inside his smoke filled living room. Ryan fought for breath but was losing control of the car, the classical music he had on the radio started to lose the reception as he drove in between many high rise buildings. His already blinking eyes began to close slightly, Ryan swerved and drove the rental car head on straight into a nearby newspaper dispenser on the side of the road. The detective had completely passed out in the front seat, luckily the air bag cushioned most of the blow. It was several minutes as he sat before the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance; Ryan came too as the whirring noise that was echoing down the streets moved closer and closer.

  The faint sound of a voice began to rouse him as he slowly opened his eyes, his vision was still blurred and a man was stood at his car window.

  “Excuse me? Sir? Sir, can you hear me?” the officer repeated trying to awaken the detective after his accident. “Are you alright sir?” he asked once more,

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Ryan replied finally arching up in the front seat. He had little to no recollection of what was going on, “where am I?” he then asked the officer.

  “You’ve had an accident, are you able to move?” the officer asked him as he opened the driver door for Ryan to get out. “The ambulance will be here any minute,” the policeman then helped Ryan out of the car and walked him towards the sidewalk where he sat and waited for the ambulance to arrive.

  “I don’t need an ambulance,” Ryan muttered to the officer, who then turned around switching his torch on to look inside the rented vehicle he crashed. If he wasn’t so thorough in his search through the car he may not have found the partly drank bottle of whiskey that had now slid underneath the passenger side seat.

  “Have you been drinking sir?” the officer asked Ryan as he reached for bottle and presented it to him. Ryan slowly lifted his head from his hands and shrugged his shoulders at the officer in response to his question.

  “I’m going to need to breathalyse you, stand up sir,” said the officer. The drunken detective struggled to even rise to his feet; it was clear that he had been drinking; the officer smelt it on Ryan’s breath. The machine was placed in his mouth for him to blow on and the light turned red, indicating that he was over the legal limit. Ryan was arrested, read his rights and hauled down to the station at gone midnight that night to be placed inside a holding cell. He felt shamed as his face was paraded through the police station in handcuffs. The cold steel around both wrists, as what was left of his co-workers still at work at that time, just whispered and passed judgement on the once great detective. The clanging of the bars on the holding cell was deafening and Ryan was placed inside amongst the other drunks and common criminals that night to sober up. This was a strange feeling for him, not only being arrested but also standing on the other side of the bars, the very same bars that he has sent many law breakers behind in his time, now the detective was one of them. This truly felt like it was a new low for Ryan, his life couldn’t get any worse than that moment right then in the police station. The smell was unbearable, the place reeked of foul air, excrement from the nearby communal toilet and sick. The other members of the public joining Ryan for the night didn’t smell much like roses either. With no place to lie down and rest his weary head he moved to one corner of the cell and just sat there, he sat there wondering how he could possibly explain this to his daughter, or to Ellis and Claire. Ryan’s eyes began to close after some time as he drifted off to sleep on the cold hard floor of the jail cell.

  The next morning the inaudible sound of a tapping on the bars woke Ryan from his slumber in the far corner of the holding cell. The doors were opened and a plastic bag filled with his personal effects were thrown at him,

  “Time to move Mathers, Ellis is waiting for you upstairs,” said the vague voice of an officer behind him. He was marched upstairs still half asleep; he was struggling to gain his balance. When Ellis wanted to see anybody it was usually bad news, the entire floor fell silent as Ryan headed towards Ellis’s office. After he walked in and closed the door it was back to business as usual for the other cops, but the school playground mentality when one child was in trouble and had been sent to the principal’s office had kicked in. Commissioner E
llis’ office was large, much larger than Harry’s with wooden double doors to enter through. Inside, the walls were lined with bookcases, each of which filled with row upon row of leather bound law books ordered by volume and colour.

  “Well detective, take a seat,” said Ellis as he gazed seated from his top floor window to the other buildings across the way and the city streets below. “I assume you know why I’ve called you here,” he added finally rotating and addressing Ryan to his face. Ryan naturally sat quietly in the comfortable chair his Commissioner had provided.

  “The only reason you’re not going to rot in that jail cell downstairs is because quite frankly, I don’t need the negative publicity, neither does the department need a shit-storm of reporters fishing around about a locked up cop. However you WILL be suspended for two months and you WILL talk with the department’s psychiatrist, or you’re fired,” stated Ellis as he gave Ryan the ultimatum.

  “Seriously?” Ryan asked, the whites in his boss’s eyes burned holes through Ryan’s creased shirt. The detective had trouble saying a word to his wife, let alone a woman he had never met, however, he valued his job and wanted to keep it above all else, and thus reluctantly agreed to go see the department’s resident doctor.

  “Now get out of my office,” Ellis told his detective before looking back out the window of his office a second time, while Ryan left his badge and his gun on Ellis’s desk and walked out of the double doors.

  Susanne Martin was the police department’s local on staff psychiatrist, she dealt with officers who needed help with personal issues and if they have had to fire their weapon while in the line of duty. Being a cop is one of the toughest jobs in any city so it was vital for the officers out on the street to have someone to express personal and private problems with. She was very well respected amongst the department and always dressed for success, usually wearing a grey suit jacket, black trousers and shoes. Her office was based across the street from the station house to allow for more privacy for her patients, also to create the idea of keeping work and personal issues separate.