by Jesse West
She stared at him, silent and attentive or at least it seemed like she was listening. Jack couldn’t tell but he didn’t care. He was nowhere near finished with his rant of how horrible of a person she truly was and the scars she’s left him with. He painted a target on her head and he was going to empty the pains in his heart, so her indecency can be brought to light.
“You have nothing to say. You have no defense for yourself. All you can say is how you are my mother. Seriously? You think after the life I was raised to have that I would give you any right to call yourself that?”
“I am your mother, Jackie. You will respect me and listen to what I have to say.” She demanded.
Jack became upset from this and in his anger, he lifted the gun and pointed it at her. “No I will not!” he said.
“Jackie, listen to me. You put that gun down right now.” She was still trying to act as though she was in command, but he made sure to inform her otherwise.
“You still think that works? I’m telling you it doesn’t. I am showing you that it doesn’t. Nothing you can say will ever take back the memories you’ve put in my head that I can never get rid of. I don’t know, maybe you live in a fantasy world where this stuff didn’t happen but unfortunately I was there and I, unfortunately, can’t forget it.” Jack continued to point the gun at her while he spoke.
Her face began to drop as she realized he wasn’t going to put the gun down. Her anger turned to nervousness in her expression as Jack continued his rant.
“I saw you fight my father over drugs. I saw you doing drugs. I was young but I wasn’t stupid. All dad wanted to do was stop. He wanted you to stop. But you listened to Uncle Scott, a man I’d never seen nor cared about and you wouldn’t my mother from that point on. I saw men, different men, every night come in and out of our home. I dealt with you being drunk when I was just a boy, barely able to do my own homework. Then, once you picked one guy that you wanted to keep, I dealt with watching that man beat you, yell at you, I sat in fear for my own life. But you didn’t care.”
Jack’s rant was letting loose so much emotion. He lowered the gun and leaned back in his chair. He continued to stare at his mother who never took her eyes off of him as he continued.
“You didn’t do anything to make sure I was ok. You just allowed these things to go this way. You did your drugs and your drinking and all you cared about was yourself. You barely stuck up for Emily when she was standing up to Bobby for you.”
“I’m an adult, I’m allowed to do what I want.” She finally spoke.
“You think being an adult gives you the right? You can’t be an adult on one end and a mother on the other, you have to make them the same person. You strived to live this life that you wanted and you pushed me and Emily to the side thinking it was alright.”
“Emily had her own father to take care of her!” she spoke in her defense.
“And is that supposed to resolve you of being her mother? You think you can just stop being a mother just like that? Did you think we would still just be there just because you’re our mother? That does not make you a mother that makes you nothing to me or Emily. You kicked Emily to the curb and you made me mean nothing in your life. You picked these people over me. These are complete strangers. These are nobodies. If you were my mother, you would’ve put me above them but you didn’t. You’re an ‘adult’ and you put yourself above me. That’s not a mother.”
She had nothing to say to this, she just continued to stare in defiance.
“I was your son…..but you lost me when you stopped being what a son deserves. I stopped being your son when you stopped acknowledging that I ever was to begin with.”
“You are always my son.” She replied.
“When?” he began to get angry. “When was I your son? When it was convenient for you? When it worked in your favor? When it allowed you to say you were my mother and think it meant something? At exactly what point in my life was I ever your son?”
“Jackie.” she tried to speak but he cut her off before she could.
“No, you don’t need to speak because I already know the answer. I was only your son when enabled you to use my name since you had already ruined your own.”
The look on her face seemed a bit startled by these words and you could tell on some of the others faces that they were curious to what Jack meant.
“What did you think, that I wasn’t going to find out? I got the notices a year ago. Letters saying that I was sent to collections for bills unpaid for and debts unsettled. Debts for things I’ve never seen or touched before.”
She broke the sustained glare she was holding and looked down at the floor. She had nothing to say or defend herself with when it came to these facts. Her silence spoke volumes in regards to what Jack was accusing her of, and all she could do now was sit there and listen.
“See. You are my mother. So calling up a credit card company or using my name on any bills or statements is your right if I was underage. Now, I don’t know whether it was yours or Bobby’s idea but you knew all of my information. Birth date, social security number, it didn’t matter whether or not I was living with you, it still gave you the right to use my information. You had already created a bad reputation for yourself. You topped off everything you could do when it came to your name and basic information, that’s why when I found out it only made sense…you decided to use me.”
This shocked a few in the room as these facts were brought to life. No one really expected her to be that way.
“It took me months to figure it out. Fighting identify theft tooth and nail until someone dug deep enough to see the cosigner on all of the applications was you. My signature was clearly forged but I had never signed anything at that point, so they had to assume it was my real signature. You didn’t need me there since I was still considered underage and as long as you had all the right paperwork, it all worked in your favor. There you are, with a clean slate that didn’t belong to you. Something that you and your boyfriend can take advantage of without it coming back to haunt you. You maxed out everything about me up to a year ago. Over 6 years of debt and overdue payments and ya know how I found out? My father thought it would be a good idea to open my own bank account and he was going to help me get my life together before he finally croaked. Once I gave them my information, it all popped up. It all came rushing back at me, like a wave of thorns pricking at my sanity while I sat there and argued with lawyers and bankers and debt collectors. YOU PUT ME IN A SHIT HOLE AND YOU TRIED TO BURY ME THERE!” Jack had let his emotions get to him “WHAT. MOTHER. DOES THAT?”
She still had nothing to say. Jack sat in his chair in disbelief.
“Where is that anger now, mother?” he asked with a sarcastic tone.
The others still listened on, their expressions changing as they heard the entire story, thinking that despite how much they hated Jack, they had to feel sorry for him. Empathy is useless to some people and Jack didn’t want it. All he wanted was to confront her about the things she had done, and that’s exactly what he was doing. And he wasn’t done yet.
He took a few deep breathes as he let himself relax after his outburst that nearly shook the room. Loud enough that some of the officers outside in the back of the house heard him. The swat team was perched in their positions and ready to strike when told.
“Ya know,” Jack began again after he calmed down “this has been a rough year for me. I’ve had some difficult times to manage with, ya know. I don’t know if it was just bad luck or the way the stars or planets were aligned but something has been against me all year. And it all started with a call on the radio…..that didn’t turn out how I expected.”
Bad call
Me and my partner, Rick, we were just running our normal routine. Driving around most of the Bensonhurst and Dyker Heights area to make sure any calls that came in, we were in the area to respond. It was late May and it was relatively sunny out. We were thankful for that being the winter was miserable.
Especially for us.
>
The first few months of the year we spent getting reamed in regards to the new policies we had to follow and making it through the first set of holidays for the year wasn’t fun either. I had spent duty on New Year’s in Times Square, making sure to keep as much order as possible on the city’s most drunk night of the year. You would’ve thought St. Patrick’s Day might have been bad, but depending on the crowd you get in Times Square for the ball drop, other holidays where people get inebriated seem like vacations. You almost pray for them in my line of work.
I’m digressing so let me get back on track.
Being in the car was better than just walking the streets but there was the calls. The radio always seemed to go off. A robbery here, a bar fight there, no matter what shift we got there was always room for the most random calls.
One time, we got a call to this bar called The Chase Lounge. It’s long been closed and turned into some other bar but the night we got the call, it was these two guys that had started a brawl over their girlfriends. The way dancing and one bumped into the other and instead of just apologizing to each other, these two intoxicated women began attacking each other. In the middle of the bar. Now, their two boyfriends, who were just as drunk, instead of breaking them up, started fighting each other directly next to them. The bouncers were able to stop them and but we were still called in to check on it.
It’s not the greatest story but it’s the idea of how stupid it is and how easily situations like that can be avoided if people were just better at being people. Communication had gone out the window with people a long time ago. If people did more talking and less fighting, maybe my profession wouldn’t be necessary.
I’m digressing again but it’s tough for me to talk about this since it shows my own lack of sticking by my own believes.
The calls were never something me and Rick looked forward to since ya never knew who or what the call was about. We heard dozens of calls every hour and most of them were out of our area to respond to, those were calls we liked to hear. It sounds selfish but we never always got lucky. Three or four a night, every night, and only a few of them really needed us. People just always called for the cops.
No matter what, we were there.
Everyone hates us but they always need us. It’s that hypocrisy, that unwritten, brushed over fact that drives men and women in my profession crazy sometimes.
But every now and then, there’s that one call that really needs you and regardless of all the other bullshit, it makes you proud to do what you do.
This call came in over the radio that day, about a domestic disturbance. Someone’s neighbor in an apartment building called in and said they heard a lot of yelling coming from the apartment across the hall from them. It was on Bay 28th street so it was in our area, we had to respond.
Those cases were always tough on me. It was difficult for me to be bias since I needed to be an officer of the law before I was a regular person. Someone who just knew that some of these people, these men, needed to be set straight. Loop holes in the system always allowed them to get away with it but every so often, one of them would get what they deserved.
Rick saw in my face that I didn’t want to take this call but it was our job. We got there and he offered to have me stay out of it. I decided to go up anyway, sort of face my anxiety. He knew what I dealt with growing up and he understand how these calls affected me. I did ask him to deal with most of the talking but I was going up. I had to do my job.
We heard a woman crying once we approached the door but that was all. We knocked and a man opened the door. I looked him over while Rick began explaining to him why we were there. He was standing there in sweat pants, wearing a Jets jersey. He wasn’t tall or well-built but he was bald and it didn’t look like he was very pleased we were there. I’ll never forget what he looked like, it’s pretty much embedded in my memory.
Once Rick and I were inside, we could tell this wasn’t the best living environment. Clothes and toys lying around, dirty furniture, and what looked like nail polish on the wall. The man certainly didn’t want us in his house. I could easily tell from his body language and the way he was staring at Rick. I looked over and on the couch at the other end of the apartment, a woman was sitting there by herself. Her body language read that she didn’t want us to speak to her either but not the same way this man did. Rick hadn’t noticed her since he continued to question the man. I went to approach her when the man stepped in front of me.
He didn’t want me to look or ask her anything but he knew better. Thankfully for Rick stepping in to further question the man, he had him step out of my way. At that point, he was just a man getting in the way of our investigation and it would’ve allowed me to handle him myself but Rick was trying to avoid that.
I stepped to the woman and asked her if she was ok. She shook her head and smiled at me but I saw through that. Her nervous hand rubbing and her posture told me so much more. I turned around to glance at Rick and the man when I saw him. A little boy, just sitting there in the other room. He didn’t look much older than about 7. He had a few toys in front of him and his head was hung low. No enthusiasm. No wonder to why we were there. Almost like it was something he was used to experiencing.
He finally looked up at me and I saw it in his face.
He was scared.
I went to approach him when I heard Rick tell the man we were leaving. I knew we needed to do something here.
The look on the boy’s face.
He seemed helpless.
Like he already knew we couldn’t help.
I didn’t want to leave but Rick insisted. As we left the man closed the door behind us and I continued to look back at the apartment. I didn’t want to leave. Something in my gut told me not to leave. Something pulled me back. Rick told me I shouldn’t but after we had walked back to the elevator, he saw it in my face. My concern for that boy.
I walked back to the apartment without him and I stood in front of the door. I listened carefully though there wasn’t much need to be quiet, the man had begun screaming again so he couldn’t hear anything from directly outside his door.
Rick was still by the elevator. I saw him while listening carefully.
He was not happy that we had shown up and he was taking it out on the woman. She told him that she didn’t do anything but he wasn’t listening.
That’s when I heard it.
The loud smack. It was loud and it echoed like the first person to start an applause and just like an applause, it was followed by more.
I stood there and listened to it.
I could see it in Rick’s face that he heard it to. He saw it in my expression. He knew what I was about to do and he shook his head in disapproval.
But I didn’t care. I’m here and I’m doing what is right.
Without another thought, I kicked the door in and saw the man standing over the woman who was now sitting on the floor. The man turned in shock at my entrance and questioned what I was doing in his home.
I looked back at the boy and I saw his innocence.
He didn’t deserve this, and that’s what drove me to take this man down.
I walked over to the man, I told him what was about to happen, and he continued to defy the notion of me being in his home.
I wasn’t thinking straight.
But the boy.
All I thought about was the boy.
I looked at the woman. Helpless and alone.
I grabbed the man’s arms and attempted to turn him around.
Rick was in the doorway watching me at that point.
The man was resisting me. He struggled but that by itself, the fact that he didn’t think he deserved to be apprehended for what he was doing drove me crazy. What is it that lets him believe that this wasn’t coming to him?
I couldn’t take it.
I just couldn’t think rationally.
I grabbed the man and threw him up against the wall.
I began hitting him and hitting him.
Rage
building inside of me.
Rick tried to pull me off of him but I shoved him away.
The man fell to the floor and I kicked him a few times before Rick was finally able to pull me off.
I looked at the woman. She wasn’t afraid, she was just in shock. She couldn’t believe what was happening in front of her. Normally when you deal with these situations, the woman is confused and a slave to the idea of the man abusing them for being the man they love, but not her. She knew she was a prisoner.
I sat there, still in a rage, calming myself down.
All I wanted was to make this man pay for what he was putting his family through. What he was putting the boy through.
I lived through that.
I watched that.
If I was able to stop it, I was going to take the necessary actions to do so.
I looked back at the boy.
He was looking at me with more fear than he had shown to the man.
Seconds before, I could tell that he was indifferent to his home and this man who was his father.
But he was dealing.
He was able to manage.
I did something much worse to that boy in a few short seconds because I couldn’t control my own rage and beliefs in regards to my personal feelings about what was happening.
I had become the monster to this boy.
Unconsciously
Jack was telling the story of how he had stepped over the law to do what he felt was right. He wasn’t a police officer in that moment, he was just another man. He didn’t think of how his actions would not only affect those involved but also what the consequences were for his actions.
“After that,” he continued “a few more patrol cars came with an ambulance for the man and the woman. She had bruises on her face but the man was nearly concussed. I didn’t think I hit him that hard but I wasn’t thinking at all. The next day I discovered that this wasn’t the first time that man was called in about, and not all the times were for domestic issues. He wasn’t the model citizen. Thankfully, he didn’t press any charges, not that he really could since the woman wasn’t defending him or pressing charges either. I did get suspended for a month for disorderly conduct in the field. I couldn’t fight that but even with it, no one looked down on me for what I did more than me. That boy’s face…”