Collision Course (A Josh Williams Novel)

by Joe Broadmeadow

  "Next available PJ is thirty minutes out on an inbound aircraft, Captain."

  The Captain looked at Josh, "Who's in charge here?"

  Josh pointed at the Sergeant sitting in the Weapons Jeep.

  The Captain went over to the Sergeant. "We need a security escort, can you spare somebody?"

  "I don't know, Sir, I'd have to get clearance from my Lieutenant."

  "I don't have time for this horse shit, I got a downed pilot in Indian country and I've got go get him now!"

  "I'll go Sir," Josh said, "I was thinking of volunteering for PJ training, I'll go."

  The Captain looked at the Sergeant, "Well?"

  The Sergeant, relieved it was out of his hands, said, "Okay, Williams, go."

  By the end of the mission, Josh held a better appreciation for the warnings against volunteering.

  Tracking the beacon from the downed pilot, they located him quickly. As the chopper set down, they took incoming fire. The pilot yelled he was calling for a gunship; they would have to come back.

  Josh could see the injured pilot and the two Iraqi soldiers trying to drive off the chopper to get to him. Josh took his weapon, jumped out, and ran to cover the man. He managed to kill one of the attackers and wound the other. Before the gunship arrived, several more Iraqis attacked them, but Josh continued to hold them off. Once the gunship made a strafing pass, the Iraqis left the area.

  Josh carried the injured pilot to the Medevac chopper as it landed, loaded him in, and climbed aboard.

  Back at the airbase, the Security Police Lieutenant was waiting for him. He started to lay into Josh for leaving without proper authorization. The Captain from the Medevac came over, informed the Lieutenant how foolish he would look for dressing down an Airman the Captain was recommending for a Silver Star, and then shook Josh's hand.

  "Guess I picked the right one to take with me, didn't I?" he said to Josh.

  "That may be sir, but I think I've learned my lesson on volunteering."

  "You did well, son, you did real well. That pilot would be dead or captured if not for you, thanks."

  "You're welcome, Sir." Snapping a salute and walking toward his quarters.

  Josh received the Silver Star, as promised by the Captain, and never volunteered again. Honorably discharged from the Air Force, he returned to home.

  Joining the PD

  After returning to Cumberland, Josh reconnected with his friend Charley, who, having become civilized, found he enjoyed domestic life.

  He and his wife had two children and another on the way. He obtained an Associate’s degree in Criminal Justice and joined the East Providence Police Department. Charley wanted Josh to join as well.

  In true Rhode Island form, Josh told Charley he wasn't even sure where East Providence was. Charley insisted, going so far as to fill out and file an application in Josh's name.

  Josh learned of this when he received a notice for the police entrance examination at the East Providence High School.

  On August 21, 1998, he took the oath as a Patrolman on the East Providence Police Department, quickly rising to assignments in the Flexible Patrol Unit and Narcotics Squad. He spent time with the Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force, assigned to the FBI, before returning to the PD as the Special Investigations Unit assistant commander working with Lieutenant Hamlin.

  Josh worked for Hamlin as a young patrol officer when she was a Patrol Sergeant assigned as supervisor on the midnight to eight shift. He learned a lot from her and held a great deal of respect for her. She adopted him as her special project. They made some excellent arrests together. Working as her assistant commander was a dream job for him.

  The SIU consisted of Lieutenant Hamlin, Sergeant Williams, and four detectives. There was a somewhat informal organization of two teams, one led by Hamlin and one by Williams. However, that was just for purposes of administration. In essence, they worked in whatever form was necessary to accomplish their goal.

  They focused on the serious cases. Assisting Major Crimes, targeting drug trafficking, burglaries, weapons, and other special projects assigned by the Chief. If it needed a focused, deliberate, concerted effort, they caught the assignment.

  Chapter 8: Love and Litigation

  May 2001

  Josh and Sgt. Hamlin stood outside the door of Courtroom 9, waiting for the Judge to finish the hearing. They needed a search warrant signed and Judge Bannon was the Sergeant’s favorite.

  He always used the same line when looking at the warrant, I look to see if the address is mine or the Bishop’s, if not I sign it.”

  Cops love Judges like this.

  Hamlin brought Josh along to introduce him. It was important to know the right Judges.

  Hamlin said, “Alright Josh, I’ll do the talking, you just listen.”

  Josh was not paying any attention. His focus was on a young, attractive woman having a discussion with one of the Assistant AG’s.

  “Hey, hey,” Hamlin said, “I am talking here.” She noticed his focus was elsewhere. Looking over to the two engaged in conversation, she added, ““Whoa there big fella, keep it in your shorts. She’s out of your league.”

  “Wanna bet?” Josh smiled and walked over to the two. “Hi Jerry, and?” Smiling at the young woman and reaching out his hand.

  “Oh, hi Josh,” noticing Josh was ignoring him. “This is Keira Walsh with the Public Defender’s office.”

  “Hi, Keira, Josh Williams, East Providence PD.”

  “Nice to meet you, Officer.” Shaking his hand, “Now would you mind if we continued our conversation?”

  “Not at all,” Josh replied, “I’ll pick you up at your office. When do you get out?” Smiling and waiting for the answer.

  The assistant AG rolled his eyes.

  “I meant my conversation with Jerry.”

  “Oh, that. Okay, but when do I pick you up?” Not the least bit put off.

  “Really, I don’t think it is our interest, yours or mine, to pursue this conversation. So, if you don’t mind…”

  “I agree this isn’t the place for that. However, I know a nice place on the Hill for drinks and appetizers. Come on, what could be the harm?”

  Josh noticed a slight smile on her face.

  “Will you go away if I say yes?”

  “Immediately,” Josh answered, “but I will be there at the office waiting for you as soon as you tell me when.”

  “Jesus, Keira, just say you’ll meet him. I need to get back to court.”

  Keira looked at Josh, smile growing a bit broader, “Okay, five o’clock. We can walk to the Hill from my office.”

  “Leaving as we speak, thanks. I am looking forward to it.” Josh said, walking backward and into Sergeant Hamlin.

  “Oops, sorry Sarge.”

  Hamlin shook her head. “One date and you are all done.”

  “Wanna bet, again?” Josh laughed.

  Chapter 9: Setting the Stage

  March 14, 2006 11:35 AM

  Machado eyed the guy with Ventraglia. He wanted nothing to do with meeting new people, it always ended badly for him.

  "JoJo, I got us a sweet one this time. See this here is my man CK. He hooked me into the best deal yet, so you in or what?"

  "I told you, man, I'm in as long as nobody gets hurt"

  "Well then my simple friend...."

  "Yo, motherfucker," rising from the bench, glaring at Ventraglia, "I ain't fucking simple man, my mind's messed up, but I know what the fuck I'm doin'."

  "Whoa, whoa, chill, I'm just messin' with ya. Okay listen," motioning JoJo to come closer, “we gonna rip off the Cumberland Farms on Taunton Ave."

  "Rip? You mean like walk in with a gun, dude, no fucking way, I ain't in for that shit, I seen enough guns in my life."

  "No, man, this is where it is so fucking sweet man, CK works there. Tomorrow there's gonna be a shit load of cash there cuz all the welfare checks is out, the owner cashes them for his customers."

  "So, how the fuck we gonna do this if
the owner is gonna be there? Too fucking risky man."

  "Listen, the owner trusts CK. He's gonna leave at 4:00 to get his brother at the airport. CK will be there alone, with the safe open cuz he needs to get at the cash."

  JoJo shook his head.

  "Yo, man listen, motherfucker, all you gotta do is be the lookout; let me know if the cops come by. I will go in like it's a real robbery, he gives me the money, and off we go, gone in seconds. CK waits a few minutes to let us get the hell away from there and then calls the cops."

  JoJo sat looking at Divothead and then CK. "How the fuck do you know this motherfucker won't keep some of the money and rat us out? The fucking cops never believe me so if we get jacked up we're screwed."

  "Wait man, there's more. CK told me the cheap motherfucking owner never got the cameras to work so there won't be anything for the cops to look at. I told you man, this is sweet." Ventraglia glanced around nervously.

  "I don't know man, the fucking cops drive by there all the time checking out the bitches hanging at Bovi's. What if one of them sees us?"

  "JoJo, I got a plan for that too. Before we go in, I am gonna call 911 on a fucking hot cell phone, tell them there's a shooting at Kent Farm. All them bastards be running there to be heroes, then we hit the place. And if you see one that does come by, you give me a heads up, I hide in the back with CK until they go, and we're back on."

  JoJo smirked. "Man, missing that chunk out of your head didn't mess you up none, did it? Okay, I'm cool, let's do it"

  What JoJo did not know is that, as close as Divothead and CK seemed, there was bad blood between them. Funny part of it was Divothead would never even remember why.

  CK's boss was once the victim of a vicious assault by Divothead and friends. Spending several weeks in the hospital gives one time to think. He couldn't very well complain about being tuned-up for owing the wise guys money. But he would find a way to get back at the wannabe punk they used. Piece of shit wouldn't stand a chance without his four friends.

  When he bailed his worker out, and found out whom he'd been hanging with in Intake, he saw his chance.

  Divothead was about to feel the revenge of a patient man.

  Chapter 10: David Anthony Ventraglia

  David Anthony Ventraglia, aka 'Divothead', was born in Providence, RI on October 13, 1965, the son of Anthony David "Tony D" Ventraglia and Maria Pellegrini Ventraglia.

  Anthony David, whose intellectual pinnacle was the juxtaposition of his first and middle names for his son, held big plans for himself as muscle for the mob. He thought everyone feared his brutality and enormous strength. He thought himself invaluable to ‘Raymond’, the infamous local boss of the mob.

  He thought wrong.

  He disappeared when he became a liability.

  Almost 20 years after he vanished, they dug up his bullet-ridden body. There were many who believed he fed the fishes, but that was in the movies, in this real mob hit they went with a less imaginative, but effective, hole.

  This one happened to be right along the bike path in the Riverside section of East Providence. One of the two men convicted of his murder, despite the lack of a body, decided to reveal the burial spot.

  The cops thought it was because he confronted his own mortality. Perhaps he believed it a form of penance. It was more likely a last grasp of a self-important ego trying to reclaim his idea of relevance.

  David Anthony Ventraglia managed to survive his father's involuntary absence and his mother's death from alcohol addiction.

  However, he did not survive them well.

  He still dreamed of being a ‘wise-guy’ in the tradition of the mobsters of Federal Hill, the Providence home to the local crime "family." Ventraglia hung around with the wannabes and Hollywood mobster types, acting as if it was the Providence of the 50's and 60's.

  He was not very successful as a criminal genius, spending several stints in the Adult Correctional Institution. He was always on some form of parole or probation.

  In the course of his criminal pursuits, he managed to acquire the nickname ‘Divothead,’ resulting from an unfortunate selection of a robbery victim.

  Ventraglia and a friend were leaving one of the downtown bars where he portrayed himself, to the drunks and hookers, as a mobster. They noticed a guy walking alone down Empire Street and decided he was an easy mark. The associate went for the getaway car; Ventraglia stalked the victim.

  As his partner pulled past and slowed down, Ventraglia ran up brandishing a small pocketknife, and said in his best intimidating voice "Give me your wallet, asshole, and all your money, now!"

  Unfortunately, for Ventraglia, what he believed to be a well-dressed, helpless old guy was not. The assessment of the target well off the mark.

  The ‘victim’ turned out to be a retired Marine Gunnery Sergeant, in the habit of parking in an area where he did not have to pay, running to the gym for a remarkably intense work out, then walking back to the car.

  The Marine was in the habit of carrying a somewhat shortened nine-iron. Just in case.

  Primarily for dogs, just as effective on idiots.

  Something Ventraglia failed to note and, more importantly, compensate for in his attack plan.

  When the Providence Police arrived on the scene, Ventraglia was lying on the sidewalk bleeding and unconscious, a rather significant chunk of his scalp removed, still clutching the knife.

  The accomplice wisely chose to leave.

  At Ventraglia's arraignment on the robbery charge, he yelled out, "I was assaulted, look at my head, I am a victim here."

  The District Court Judge, reviewing the circumstances of the injury, said, "Well, next time stay away from Jarhead Golfers, they leave big divots."

  The courtroom collapsed in laughter and Ventraglia became 'Divothead'.

  Divothead also managed to endear himself, in a bad way, to several police departments, in particular the East Providence Police. There was a genuine battle in the EPPD Detectives Squad room over who would have the pleasure of telling David that daddy spent his final moments as a target, and the last twenty years as compost and fertilizer a mere 100 yards from the dump the Ventraglia called home.

  Detective Joe McDaniel was a thirty-seven year veteran of the East Providence Police Department. Since Ventraglia caused McDaniel years of headaches with his penchant for Burglary and B&E's, McDaniel won the honor.

  Detective Sergeant Edward Grady, Rhode Island State Police, the person technically assigned the Ventraglia Missing Person case, went with McDaniel. This would amount to the total effort made by the State Police to locate Ventraglia.

  No one believed him missing and there were too many places to dig for mob victims.

  Grady and McDaniel went to Ventraglia's apartment and knocked on the door. They saw the cardboard covering the side window move.

  "What the fuck do you want?" An invisible voice yelled out indignantly.

  "Hey Divothead, for once I don't have a warrant for you. Just open the door, we have news."

  "Listen, you fucking dinosaur, I told you don't call me that. Why don't you and that fucking gorilla trooper go hump each other someplace?"

  "David," McDaniel said in his best grandfatherly voice, “is that better? Come on out here, we don't have to come in, I have something you need to know being as it is Father's Day and all."

  Ventraglia came out and stood on the stairs. "Now what, did one of them bitches complain I knocked them up?"

  "No, that's not it."

  "I know. One of those bitches I did knock up wants more money."

  "Well David, it would be nice if you did pay some child support, but that's not it either."

  McDaniel was grinning ear to ear.

  "Then what the fuck do you two assholes want? I ain't got time for this."

  "Well David, I have grand news for you on this Father's Day." McDaniel was smiling so widely his ears were practically behind his head.

  "We found your father!" McDaniel said, holding his hands to the sky, "Praise God,
Daddy has been found! Can I get an Amen brother Grady?"

  At this point, Sergeant Grady was reconsidering his thought about being here as a good idea.

  Ventraglia staggered and sat down. "Where, where is he, where has he been?"

  "Well, David, turns out he was never far from you, it's like he was watching over you all this time." McDaniel was on a roll now. "Yup, he was so close but couldn't tell you." McDaniel was enjoying this.

  "I knew it, I knew it," tears welling in his eyes, Ventraglia glared at the cops. "He was hiding out so you bastards wouldn't try to turn him into a rat, I knew it. When can I see him?"

  McDaniel, pausing like a dramatic Shakespearean actor and holding his hands as in prayer, said, "Ah David, ever loyal, ever faithful, ever delusional, son of long absent Anthony, yes, yes you can, you can see him just by looking at those trees lining the bike path over there and the pretty flowers as well." Gesturing toward the bike path as if pointing it out to Divothead for the first time.

  Ventraglia looked up, confused. "What the fuck did you bastards do with him? If you bastards did something I will kill you all and your motherfucking families too." Ventraglia was back on his feet, fists clenched.

  "David, David, please, calm down, relax. Your father has at last made a positive contribution to God's good earth. Have you not seen, not appreciated, those trees and flowers, rabbits and squirrels, creatures of all sorts along the bike path?" McDaniel grinned, took a step toward Ventraglia, backing him into the wall. "Well thanks to your heroes, nature has been feeding off your asshole father's dead body for the past twenty years. Ever since his good friends shot him and buried his fat ass over there. As a matter of fact, several thousand dogs have probably taken great relief shitting on his grave."