

By Day or By Night

M. Glenn Aldridge

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2009 M. Glenn Aldridge
By Day or By Night

M. Glenn Aldridge  
Prologue

Dear Jessi's Diary: These are the sad events as I recall them about three years ago.

ps: Also, there's some stuff I'll tell you that was written in the paper or told to me by folks from around town. It's their words not mine!

Dinner

"I say hang 'em from the nearest tree!" yelled Daddy as he splashed his fork into his mashed taters and gravy.

"John, can't we talk about something besides police work tonight," asked Momma in her normal soft, calming tone; which by the way doesn't usually work at calming Barnsdall Oklahoma's Chief of Police John Long down. No when Daddy gets all red faced he pretty much stays that way for quite a while.

Daddy took a big swig of his beer and dug into his meal.

Momma looked around the table at my little brother Johnny and I with an "I'm sorry for the big people talk" look on her face.

I don't feel so small; all of seven now but pretty grown up for my age. I can stand a little grown up talk. I understand it a lot more than Momma knows, or maybe wants to admit. She doesn't seem to want to see her little Jessica grow up too fast. Now Johnny only being a tot just now, all cute and messy with food on his face sitting there with a funny smirk, probably doesn't understand anything but the tone of Daddy's voice; a tone of anger. That's probably what Momma dislikes the most. The impact Daddy's passion for law enforcement, heavy on the enforcing part, has on little Johnny. I think he's a tough little guy though... takes after his big sister.

I look out for Johnny you know. He's a good kid and fun to have around. He's my only brother; only sibling as a matter of fact unless you count our dog Hank, so I figure I better stay close to him. Wouldn't want him wandering off or anything... ha ha!

"Katherine, I don't see any problem with talkin' 'bout people following the law... and those that don't otta have to pay for it. How else will they learn?" Daddy replied making sure to use Momma's proper name. He's good at that, especially when he knows she doesn't like the things he's saying. He knows it only sets her off to be called Kathy, or Kat or something. She's a Katherine, prim and proper.

"John... now you know it's not the talk about the law that's... well the problem. It's how you get your blood up so much when you talk about it. A man as large as you shouldn't look or talk so angry; it scares folks, especially the little ones." Momma looked at Johnny first then made a quick glance at me. I think she was acknowledging that I'm not so little no more.

Large is an understatement really. Daddy's a very big man. He says he's the "perfect size" for law enforcement; just big enough to intimidate folks into not fighting with him, but not too big to be slow when he has to put the hurt on someone. I think he said he's six foot six and weighs two forty-five. He likes to joke around and say that song was written about him. Daddy will walk around whistling it sometimes and sing some parts like "kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip"... don't give no lip or something like that; then he'll bellow out in that deep low voice of his: "BIG JOHN". It's pretty funny to hear and especially to see.

Ya know, I've never really seen another man, in person, that looks like Daddy; so big and tall with short blond hair and a chiseled jaw. He's kinda like a cross between that guy from Planet of the Apes and that cowboy actor guy named John something all the men my Daddy's age seem to like so much. He's old ya know; Daddy's like well over thirty; like thirty-five I think because Momma jokes and tells him every day that goes by he's closer to forty than he is thirty. That's old.

"Katherine, you married a law man and you know it. It takes a man like me to keep a town safe. Barnsdall has low crime because a man like me's willing to climb down in the gutters with the scum and kick their asses!... I mean butts." Daddy knew what was coming after cussin'.

"John! That's what I'm talkin' about. Cussin' in front of the children; you otta be 'shamed of yourself." Momma seemed to have her blood up a little now too.

I said: "Oh Momma, I've heard worse cuss words than that at school," I just figured she ought to know it wasn't that bad. Plus I wanted to talk too ya know.

"Well Jessica... you better not be repeating those bad words," replied Momma with a light frown.

Daddy winked at me and laughed. Then Johnny laughed and so did I... eventually Momma joined in, maybe realizing ass isn't that bad a word. Really it isn't ya know. In fact, I once road an Ass out at Bernie Shaw's ranch; it wasn't so bad... though I still like horses better.

Momma's so pretty when she laughs; that is when she smiles. She's a bit younger than Daddy and she looks younger by far. Some of the boys at school call her the local "Hot Momma", and that quickly gets them a punch in the arm. But all kiddin' aside, Momma is really easy on the old eyes; that's what Daddy says anyways. She's, oh I think about five foot five and doesn't weigh much I'm sure. Daddy says she's a little thing but has all the curves in the right places; whatever that means. I like her green eyes and her long brown hair. Her hair always smells like rose petals. She says it's the shampoo she uses, but I think it might just be her. She's pretty like a rose.

"Well Jessica, just remember only simple minds use simple words like cuss words," Momma said while still laughing a little.

"Oh Momma please call me Jessi; everybody else does... Jessica's so... well so proper.

"Well sweetie... Jessica... I named you Jessica because I like the name, thought it would suit you well. It's a pretty name like you," she reached over and ran her hand through my blond hair. "So... I'll call you by your proper name thank you very much," Momma said with a smile.

I think she likes to call me Jessica just 'cause no one else does. Kinda makes her feel special or somethin'. I spose I can live with that, but don't let me catch someone else doin' it or they'll get a punch in the arm; and hard.

Well the laughing fit my mood better. Sometimes I get tired of the hot headed stuff. Light hearted dinner talk fits our kitchen better ya know. Momma keeps such a nice house and decorates the kitchen and everything else so well... it's like relaxing.

Our kitchen isn't very big, we live in a smallish double wide trailer down by Bird Creek on East Maple, but Momma sure makes the best of it. She likes to decorate in the old west style, but with a girly side to it. Not too girly though so that's ok. I mean she puts in the normal cowboy stuff but adds a touch of flowers and candles and stuff that fits her taste; pretty nice.

Daddy doesn't seem to notice much in regards to decorating. I sometimes wonder if he'd even be able to tell you what color the walls are in each room of the house. He just seems to have his mind on other things. He spends a lot of time out in his work shed out back. Always working on some beat up hunk of junk and drinking his stinky beer; that is when he's not doing his police work, which is most of the time.

Daddy's work shed, or I guess you could call it a small garage or something, always smells like a mixture between oil, beer and lava soap for some reason. My Momma calls it a "drab" place. She's offered to decorate for him, but he won't have any of it. He tells Momma that she has the house and he has his work shed. He says he'll finish his muscle car restoration, I think it's called a sail fish or shark or barracuda or something, long before he worries what hangs on the walls of his work shed. He does have a calendar with pictures of hot rods though; but it's about three years out a date. That's Daddy for ya. Pretty relaxed about decorations, but not relaxed at all about his police work. He's real serious 'bout that.

"Daddy, why do folks have to be so bad sometimes," I asked 'cause it seems like I see nice folks doing good things all the time but Daddy seems to only see the bad ones.

"That's a hell of a question honey," Dad replied with a swig of his beer. "Let me think about that for a minute," he finished off his last piece of fried chicken.

"Hell, helllll helll hhheeellll... HELL!" Johnny seems to catch the bad words out of a conversation and throw them back at you with extra speed and emphasis. He was kind of jumping up and down in his highchair as he yelped.

"Thank you very much Mr. John Scott Long! You continue to teach our children that filthy mouth." You knew you were in trouble with Momma when she broke into calling you by all three of your names. The added Mr. was just icing on the cake. "Sometimes John... I swear."

"You swear?" Daddy was trying to be funny as he tossed his head back to finish the last drop of his beer. He then reached back behind him and opened the refrigerator door to retrieve another. That'd make seven, just at dinner, by my count. The empty bottle busted in the trash can as Daddy tossed it across the room on top of the six others in there.

"John, you know what I mean Mr. Smarty pants." Momma then leaned over and whispered into Johnny's ear, telling him how not to repeat that word.

Daddy didn't seem to be bothered by Momma's mood really. He was itchin' to talk more about the bad people he sees each day.

"Well Daddy?" I asked again because I'm not always patient ya know.

"Jessi, I'll tell you what... " Daddy kind of frowned as Momma interrupted him.

"Jessica... her name is Jeessiiccaa..." Momma looked serious but her voice had a smile in it.

"Ok, ok... Jessica, I'll tell you what... some folks are just born bad, while others learn it from years of environment. You know what I mean?" Daddy looked around the table as if to see nodding heads. There were none.

"Umm, well I know what it means if someone is born bad," I was pretty sure anyways.

"What's that Jessica," Momma joined in the conversation by testing my knowledge.

"Well like in the Bible and stuff; like the devil was born evil. I 'spose some folks are just born evil." I looked at Daddy for approval.

"That's right hon," Daddy said with a ruffle of my hair.

"Well Jessica that's a pretty negative way to look at things; we surely need to remember forgiveness when we think of bad people. Let's remember that. In fact some folks believe people are not born bad at all." Momma's always making a point; especially when Daddy talks negative.

"But what do you mean by 'years of environment' Daddy?" I really had no idea what he meant.

"Iron man... iron man! Johnny was giving his two cents worth.

"No Johnny not iron man; ennviirroonnment, environment," Momma leaned over and put her hand on Johnny's back.

"EnnnvironMINT!" Johnny said with unbridled enthusiasm.

"That's right honey," Momma replied without realizing Johnny really thought they were talking about candy mints.

"Well Jessi... Jessica," Daddy said with a soft smile at Momma. "Some folks have a good up bringin' and some folks don't. "Some parents choose to raise their kids right, like your Momma here, and some sons-a-bitches treat their kids bad or let them run wild with no discipline; then all those kids learn is bad. So their upbringing environment influences them to be... well bad as adults... and as kids too I suppose.

"Suns bitt... suns bitt!" Johnny was smiling real big as he said it.

"Thanks John, thanks a lot," Momma was still upset but seemed to be coming to terms now with the foul language. As most nights she starts out upset about it, but then gradually falls into acceptance. That's the man she married.

"I think I understand," I said but wasn't completely sure.

"Well Jessica, what I think Daddy means is some people have a difficult life as a child and that makes them hard hearted and sometimes mean as adults. It's not really their fault, it was their circumstances; their environment. Understand?" Momma always has a way of explaining things more softly than Daddy.

"Yeah, I got it," and I really did.

"Jesus tap dancing Christ Katherine! It's that kind of manure that gives the criminals the excuse to commit their crimes and feel OK about it. 'It's not really their fault'... come on Katherine adults can't just blame a tough childhood for their crappy adult behavior. You understand that Jessi!"

Daddy had a condescending tone to his voice when speaking to Momma and he wasn't asking me if I understood anymore, rather he was telling me to understand. It made me feel like I'd better understand or else; or else there would be dire consequences. Daddy had a way of influencing people like that, and not just kids. He has a way of impressing his opinions, and even more so the way he wants things done, on everyone... or else! I guess that makes for a good Chief of Police.

"Well, some folks just believe more in forgiveness than others John; that's all I'm saying." Momma let out a soft breath and began clearing the table. It was her submissive sign that Daddy had won out with his opinions. He nearly always does with Momma. It seems that's our normal dinner time procedure.

Johnny kept asking for his "EnnnvironMINT" candies as Daddy fetched another beer from the frig and made his way out to his work shed to do what he does out there. He doesn't help with the dishes much. In fact, not at all; but I do. I don't suppose I have to, you know I could probably find an excuse like school work or something that needs to be done, but I like helpin' Momma out. It's our alone time together each evening; I mean Johnny's there but Daddy's not. It allows Momma the time to explain in more detail what Daddy means when he says the things he does. How Daddy has a tough job and how stressful it can be. How Daddy keeps us all safe and makes Barnsdall a great place to live and raise a family.

Ya know what? Sometimes I wish Daddy had a less stressful job, maybe he would be happier. But then I spose we need men like Daddy to do that hard work; he's certainly no good at washing dishes so he must be good at other things.

Momma sometimes implies things I think I understand; and other times just tells it like it is. She'll say things like: "your Daddy's lack of visible happiness is less a reflection of the job and more of the man. It's the chicken and the egg concept." She says Daddy wasn't too awful happy before his police job.

Momma can be real smart (she calls it articulate, I think) sometimes; but then its funny how she falls back into her southern talk right after. You know ya'll and folks and such. I think she's a lot smarter than Daddy, but doesn't want to make him angry by using too big of words. Who really knows why adults do the things they do anyways. They sure are good at makin' things complicated.

After dishes, Momma and Johnny and I watched a little TV and went off to bed. From my bedroom window I could see the light on out there in Daddy's work shed, but didn't hear any work being done and I didn't see anyone moving around out there. He was still out there when I fell asleep.

Off To School

Daddy's our family's alarm clock. He gets up real early in the mornings; even if he's stayed up late the night before drinkin'. He calls it military time or something. All I know is it's usually before the sun rises.

I get my bath while Momma makes breakfast, with Johnny helping out. Well if you call sleeping in his highchair helping. I guess it might be really, it's better than him throwing things or pitching a fit as some babies do. You know come to think of it, Johnny hardly ever acts up. He's such a good little brother.

Daddy's usually sitting at the kitchen table with his second or third cup of coffee when I make my way into the kitchen. He likes to read the paper in the mornings and carry on about the happenings in town and around Osage County. It's not unlike his dinner talk really.

"Good morning Jessica," Momma said with a smile as I entered the kitchen. She's usually still dressed in her night robe with a cooking apron over the top. The aroma in the kitchen makes you hungry even if you weren't when you woke up.

"Good morning Momma... good morning Daddy," Daddy doesn't reply; too into his newspaper I guess. Johnny's asleep in his highchair.

"Come over here honey and take a look at what I'm makin'." Momma says that just about every morning and I usually see the same thing in the frying pan; it's good stuff though. She usually has most of it done before I get out of the bathroom as Daddy likes to eat alone; I think. But Momma keeps everything heating on the stove so it's real warm when it's my turn to eat.

Eggs, bacon, sausage, hot cakes, toast (often French), and such. Boy I tell ya, Momma can cook. I think Daddy really appreciates that, but he rarely mentions it. I can just tell he does though.

One good thing about getting up real early in the morning is you get to watch the sunrise. And another good thing is that you can have a nice leisurely breakfast. Most times Daddy finishes up just as I sit down.

"Well kids... off to the job." Daddy calls his work being "on the job". Police talk I guess. Anyways, out the door he goes with a big thermos of coffee. He says caffeine early gets you through the day and beer late gets you through the night. I've seen him drink both all day before though.

Daddy seems about as cheerful as he gets when he heads out "on the job" in the mornings. I really think he likes his work, even though he complains about it so much. That's fine by me, him leaving out so early and all, especially if it makes him happy. It leaves Johnny and Momma and I the time to have a nice quiet breakfast.

"So'd you sleep well honey?" Momma asked as she sat down to the table with me.

"Pretty good yep."

"No nightmares?" Momma said as she took a nibble of toast and jam.

I'd been having nightmares about things I'd rather not repeat. Momma says a lot of kids around my age have nightmares about bad things. She says it's a little bit of fear of the dark, a little bit of the bogyman thing, and a whole lot of growin' up too fast; that is she thinks TV these days is so violent and puts these scary thoughts in little kids minds and then it creeps up on them at night when they are asleep. I try to remind Momma that I'm not a little kid, but she always just says "you'll always be my little kid".

"Nothing to speak of really," I fibbed a little bit.

"Ok then Jessica... how's your eggs?" Momma probably didn't believe me about the nightmares, but she's not one to push people much. That's nice.

"They're great Momma, so's everything else... mmmmm!" That made Momma smile real big. With the early morning sun shining through the window on her face it amazed me how youthful she looked. I wondered if when I was a little older folks might mistake her for my big sister. Her youthful appearance really seems to spill over into her personality too... just a thought.

Momma and I chatted, as most days, and Johnny listened as he went in and out of sleep. He would occasionally shout out some approval or a random cuss word he picked up from Daddy. That didn't spoil Momma's good morning usually, but it didn't help none either.

After breakfast we quickly readied ourselves for the short drive to school. I could walk ya know. Nowhere in Barnsdall is a long ways, but driving in's pretty nice too. I think Johnny likes getting out for a drive anyways. Momma seems to like how it makes her feel responsible. Ya know watching me enter the school all safe and all. I 'spose I'll understand that better when I have kids some day.

Momma's real efficient about getting Johnny ready to go; doesn't take much with the warm Oklahoma mornings. He could pretty much just go in his diapers. I like to try to get him to walk with me but Momma says it's a long ways out to the car with those little legs. Anyways he's cute when he walks, or waddles.

Johnny doesn't seem to mind sitting in the back, he just mumbles little baby stuff and occasionally screams out in excitement if he sees or hears something he likes. Me... I just sit in the front seat with my book bag on my lap.

Don't get me wrong, I like the ride to school ya know. It's just that I've seen it all before. There's not a lot of "new" in Barnsdall. I don't think things have changed here in fifty years; maybe never, maybe forever. I know forever's a long time, but it kinda feels like it here in this small town. But, it's still a place I tend to love.

As we make our way up Maple Street I see the same old houses, just as they've always looked; run down a bit really. I see the same old pot holes in the street that are always being planned to be fixed next month.

It's not but about thirty seconds before we're up town on Main Street and I see our posted claim to fame. A sign on Main Street (also Highway 11) for all to see! It reads: "Birth Place of Anita Bryant, and former home of Clark Gable". I do have to admit that's pretty cool for a small town of only about thirteen hundred folks.

I've been told Anita Bryant was a pretty good singer, but I've never heard her sing; I don't think. Daddy says Clark Gable used to work the old oil fields around town. I heard some other folks say he used to work at the wax plant in town; back when it was booming. Who knows what's really true? But I do think he was here for a few years at least 'cause I've seen pictures of him up by the oil well.

Oh yeah, the oil well. Don't let me forget about that little Barnsdall tidbit. As you make your way up the hill to the school you'll see right there, smack dab, in the center of Main Street... an oil well of all things. It's supposed to be the world's only Main Street oil well. If you ask me, that oil well is less of a cool tourist attraction and more of a bobsledding hazard!

See on the few days each year when Barnsdall gets enough snow for kids to go out sledding, we all head up to the hill. It's a real steep hill and fun to sled down. Only real problem is that darn oil well right at the bottom of the steepest part of the hill. You hit that thing and, let me tell ya; it really smarts.

Last winter Steve Heatley hit the fence surrounding the oil well so hard it knocked a knot on his head the size of a baseball. The darn thing's a nuisance I say! But the older folks think it's really neat to be able to say it's the only one in the world, so it stays, no matter how many kids get knots on their heads. Go figure the logic in that.

I see all the kids making their way up the hill; though not in too big of a hurry really. Seems no one's ever in a big hurry 'round here. It's kind of nice if you just let the calmness of a small town wash over you. But... if you really want to get somethin' done it can be a little annoying. I think Momma loves it. I think Daddy doesn't sometimes.

"You're not very talkative this morning Jessica."

"Momma... please... Jessi!"

"Oh, Jessica don't you have enough people that call you that to allow me to call you by your proper name?" Momma reached over and touched me on the top of my head.

"I guess so," I replied with a sigh that had to let Momma know that after the hundredth time of asking her to call me Jessi I was sure she'dve given in by now. Not a chance, Momma probably would never give in on that, but I'll keep trying for a while longer.

"Johnny what do you think," Momma was trying to team up on me now.

"'essica Jesscaaaaaa," Johnny replied while slapping his hands on his car seat.

"See Jessica... Johnny agrees... Jessica it is then." Momma smiled real big as she turned into the school driveway. I guess she thought with Johnny's stamp of approval I'd just give in. Maybe some day, but not now I thought.

"Ok Momma," I was just humoring her and something told me she knew it.

As we drove up to the front of the school I saw Richard Moore getting out of his Daddy's Cadillac in front of us. That Richard really thinks he's somethin'. I'm not jealous or anything... I mean I have all I really need and just 'cause his Daddy's rich doesn't make him better than everyone. It's just that Richard acts all high and mighty, like he's better than most... if not all. The teachers seem to treat him better than the rest of us too; like he's special or something. I just don't like it.

Anyways, I also saw a bunch of my friends playing. Daddy calls what they were doing "playin' grab ass", but Momma says it nicer: "horsin' around". There was Shelly Aultz, Jennifer Reagan, Kathy Jones, David Spencer (not sure I'd really call him a friend?), John Oyster, and my bestest friend Heather McCabe. They were all running around and such, just havin' a good time. I almost jumped out of the car without saying goodbye, but that would have been rude.

"I see your friend Heather over there Jessica," Momma sometimes likes to point out the obvious, just to spark up a conversation. She's a little more small town than me... what I mean is she likes slowwwww longgggg goodbyes. And... she knows I don't. I mean I don't even like goodbyes so why would I drag them out? But Momma says being polite when you say hello and polite when you say goodbye is real important to most folks. She also says it gives me patience. She's always telling me I need more patience. Momma's probably right.

"Yup that's her all right," I said while salivating out the car window. I just wanted to get goin'.

"Don't you have an important spelling test today?"

"Nope that's tomorrow," I really think Momma knew that but just wanted to prolong our conversation. She's funny like that sometimes.

"Oh, well I've just noticed how much you've been studying for it and figured it might be today."

"Nope tomorrow," I had to try pretty hard not to let my impatience show in my voice, but I was fidgeting quite aggressively with my book bag straps, and that probably gave away my state of mind.

"Well I was just going to wish you luck, but I'll hold that until tomorrow then... and you probably don't need luck anyway; you're so smart," Momma smiled real big at me.

"Oh Momma!"

"Well you are honey and that makes me happy... having a pretty and smart daughter." Momma was beaming now and it was embarrassing me.

"Thank you Momma." I thought that might put an end to the overly dramatic praise.

"You're welcome Jessica... now give me a kiss and tell your brother goodbye for the school day."

"Ok," I knew it would do no good to tell her how much it embarrassed me to kiss my Mother in front of all the kids; she'd just lean over and kiss me anyways. So I figured a quick smooch would be a little less conspicuous. Conspicuous... that's one of my spelling test words; pretty big word huh? Even bigger than salivate; which I learned to spell and define two weeks ago.

With a quick peck on the cheek, I then leaned over the back of the seat and rubbed Johnny on the forehead. It struck me that I rubbed his head much like Momma rubs mine. Maybe Momma's rubbin' off on me, ya think?

"Johnny now you have a good day and be good for Momma... I love you and I'll see you after school."

"Pool pool poooool," Johnny loves swimming.

"No Johnny not pool... school sccchhoool... school," Momma said slowly. She's definitely hooked on phonics.

"Ok then Johnny you have a good day at the pool," I said as I was half way out the car door. I was only kidding ya know.

"Jessica, don't confuse Johnny now," Momma said with a laugh in her voice.

"Ok Momma," I yelled back as I was dashing towards my friends. A quick get away.

Momma drove off slowly and carefully as she always does. She doesn't want to be seen speeding or anything. She'd be quite embarrassed if Daddy pulled her over; as he (or one of his other police officers) usually sits just down the road this time of the morning to make sure everyone obeys the school zone laws. He's pretty darn serious about that; well and all other law stuff ya know; but I'm repeating myself.

As I ran up to Heather and screeched to a halt with perfect sound effects of squealing tires "SCCCRRRRREEE!", I hoped we could get in a little playin' and chit chat before the first bell.

"Mornin' Heather," I said, surprised I was a little out of breath from my short trip from the car. But then again, I was running; and I can run real fast.

"Hi Jessi," you want to hear my new joke?

"Hi Chief O' Police Jessi," said David as he punched me in the arm; but not too hard.

I punched him back extra hard for interrupting Heather and I. I think David must like me or something. Momma says that's why he's always calling me Chief of Police and punchin' me. Seems like a pretty funny way to show how much you like someone.

"Sure Heather," I replied while making a conscious effort to ignore David now.

"Ok here goes," Heather said while she staggered her feet shoulder with apart and squared right up to stand in front of me. "Knock knock!"

"Who's there," I said in anticipation.

"An interrupting cow," Heather replied with a huge smile, barely being able to keep herself from breaking out in laughter.

"An interrupting cow w..." I wasn't able to get out the "who" before Heather broke in loudly.

"Moo!!" Heather yelled and broke out laughing, nearly falling on the ground. She had tears in her eyes and kept trying to say something like "get it... get it ... ha ha... I inter... I inter...I interrupted you before you could say an interrupting cow who... I interrupted with a moo like a cow." She was quite happy with her newest joke. She's always telling jokes. That's one of the things I like about my bestest friend Heather. She's funny and she's always laughing.

I have to admit the joke was pretty darn funny; and really unexpected so I said, with a laugh: "Yeah Heather that was a good one."

"Oh that's the sixth time I've heard that joke already this morning; it's getting old." David broke in with his opinion.

"No one asked ya David," I said with a turned up nose.

"What ever you say Chief," said David as he ran off somewhere to play whatever foolish games he plays.

Shelly and Jennifer came over to join Heather and I and they asked the normal questions: "Is that your Daddy up there in the police car? Did he arrest anybody yet today? Is he mean; he sure looks mean?" Along with other law enforcement related questions. They really come up with some good questions whenever someone gets arrested, but I just tell them any details of the arrest on a "need to know" basis only. Daddy told me to say that. I get a kick out of that... makes the kids think I know something I don't... like Daddy would give me the details of an arrest anyways.

Sometimes I wonder if my friends and classmates see me as just another kid or if they see me as an information hotline to the police department. There are some benefits to being the daughter of the Chief of Police, but I've found there are a lot of pitfalls too.

Rinnngggg goes the first school bell of the day.

On The Job

As I overheard Mr. Swanson telling another older man down at the coffee shop

I guess John was just sitting up there by the Dairy-Go-Round on Main Street sippin' on a cherry lime aide or somethin'; maybe having some fries too, the Dairy-Go-Round has some good fries. Hard work for the Chief of Police ya know.

Well it bein' about 10:30 in the morning on a school day you don't see a lot of speeders fly through town, but with Main Street also being Highway 11 you never know who might be passing through our little town. Some out-a-towners just don't respect small towns and all. Ya know you'd think the'd have 'nough sense to know most small towns have their speed traps set up.

Well this ole' boy just come barrelin' down Highway 11 and ran the stop sign turning left onto Mains Street/Highway 11 right in front of John Long. John took that as a pretty big insult; ya know breaking the law in broad day light right in front of the Chief of Police and all.

And that wasn't the worst of it really. That guy squealed his tires and racked off his glass pack tail pipes so loud you'd a thought the guy must not have a brain in his head. I mean right in front of a cop! Anyways, turns out the ole' boy's from just outside of Pawhuska; lives on a farm with his parents, helps out and such, think his names Josh Walker, only seventeen and a high school drop out. That 'xplains why he was out runnin' around during school hours. That only pisses ole' John off even more ya know. Not that John's so big on schoolin' but he just don't like folks stirring up trouble during school time. He figures that's supposed to be a quiet time. In fact, John really don't like people stirring up trouble most times.

Oh by the way, I once overheard John telling one of his police officers that he thinks those damn kids with their glass pack pipes must be compensating for some shortcomings; you know trying to draw attention to themselves for a lack of a substantial male appendage. Ha ha, I'd have to agree... I sure would; loud pipes or a corvette right?

Anyways, ole' John musta spilled his drink in his lap as he was hurrying to fire up the roof and get after Josh, 'cause when he got out of his police car I saw he was all wet.

But I'm gettin' ahead a bit. See I don't know if Josh didn't see, or care to see, John Long running up behind him with his lights on down Main Street. God knows it's hard to see those police lights in the light of day, but Josh just kept on goin' for quite a ways until John hit the siren. He doesn't like to fire up the siren in town because it usually stirs everybody up. John knows if he hasta' use that siren then everybody in town will either be ear smashed to their little hand held police scanners or comin' as fast as they can to the siren to see what's goin' on. It's kind of like ringing Pavlov's dinner bell... everybody starts salivatin' like a dog.

Well in this case John had no choice but to use the siren. At least Josh pulled over pretty quick after he heard the siren, but that didn't make John Long any happier. He was pissed. Mad 'cause his calm morning was ruined, mad because he spilled his drink, mad 'cause he thought he was gonna have to chase that kid down when he didn't stop right away, mad because he was forced to use the siren when he hates to, and even more mad when he got out of the car and saw about half the town already starting to rubberneck what was goin' on. Tell ya what... you can bet your day ain't gonna be good when you look in your rear view mirror and see ole' John Long getting' out of his police car angry and wet from spillin' his drink 'cause you decided to speed through his town of Barnsdall, OK. That's the God's honest truth I'll tell ya.

I saw John, all six foot six of him, walk slowly toward Josh's beat up Ford pickup. It looked to be about a '69 with more rust than paint and bald tires ta' boot. Looked like it had a busted tail light and John was checking out the tags; they looked out-a-date to me.

John put his hand on the tailgate of the truck and looked up at the clear blue sky, shook his head and spat a dark line of snuff out on the grass next to the road. He scratched the back of his neck and walked real slow up to the driver's side door.

"Son; son," Chief of Police John Long had a condescending tone to his voice. "License and registration."

Josh Walker had a look on his face that said: "I'm busy boy, don't bother me"; the wrong look to shoot at John Long. He leaned over and pulled out his billfold and looked in his review mirror for some reason.

"I sure hate to put you out young man, but... license and registration," John's voice was quite stern.

"Ok, ok Mr. Policeman hold your horses." Josh began rummaging through his wallet and eventually produced his driver's license. When he handed it out the window to John he bypassed John's out stretched hand and more handed the license to John's chest, causing John to have to take a quarter step back and bend his arm to retrieve the license. Josh had a sarcastic grin on his face as he did this.

"Let's not get off on the wrong foot now..." John glanced down at the driver's license, "Josh Walker".

"I have no idea what you're talkin' 'bout Mr. Policee-man. Josh overemphasized and held the "E" in policeman with a big smile. You might call it a shit-eatin' grin really.

John just glanced at Josh then looked again at the driver's license and said: "hmm".

"So you wanta tell me why you stopped me?" Josh actually sounded serious, like he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what he'd done. This little game didn't appear to please ole' John one bit.

"First things first Mr. Walker... registration?" John put a hand on the top doorsill of driver's side door; taking up a position of authority with his posture.

Josh looked at him with less of a sarcastic look now and one more of seriousness. Not really fear but he looked like he was starting to understand the man before him was a "serious" man.

"Now!" John snapped loudly.

Josh didn't say a word, just slide over on the truck's seat and opened the glove compartment. As he did this John leaned hard on the driver's side door, actually tipping the truck a little sideways on it's worn out suspension, and put his free hand on his stainless steel Smith & Wesson .357 magnum revolver.

I don't blame John for that you know; hell everybody in Oklahoma's got a gun in their glove compartment. Either in their glove box or hanging in a gun rack on the rear window of their pickup. That is everybody but Josh. Turns out he just had a bunch of junk in his glove box.

Josh filed through the junk and began looking a little nervous when he realized he didn't have his registration card. John didn't look too surprised when Josh looked over at him and shrugged his shoulders.

"Guess I left it in my other business suit," said Josh with a laugh.

"I see," replied John with a laugh of his own. It was not a laugh of agreement. "Out of the truck son."

"What... hell Mr. Policeman I wasn't doin' nothin'; why'd you pull me over anyways?

"Out... NOW!" John was about done with the foolin' 'round crap.

"Ok, ok Jesus," said Josh as he reached for the passenger door handle, as he was still sitting in front of the glove compartment.

"This side boy," John said with a loud whack to the roof of the Ford pickup.

Josh slowly slid back over under the wheel and reached for the driver's side door handle. As he did this John jerked the door open quickly and Josh nearly fell out on his head.

"Come on boy, quit the bullshit I'm in no mood," John looked angry now, but didn't really sound it.

As Josh stood up in front of John Long beside the truck, he looked up to see an enormous man that was not joking around. From my vantage point young Josh Walker looked to be about half the size of ole' Big John.

"Now," John said in a low slow voice, "to answer your question about why I stopped you son. I stopped you because you started off by speeding down Highway 11 into town, then you ran the stop sign onto Main Street, then reckless driving (sliding sideways and all), and I'm still ponderin' on the failure to yield to an officer. That enough to put the light bulb on above your head, or would you like me to dissect your bone head actions any further?" John looked directly into Josh Walkers' eyes and smirked a little.

"Well ociffer [intentionally said wrong] I just have no idea what y're talkin' 'bout," Josh replied with sarcasm that didn't exude a high level of intelligence. An intelligent young man would have seen the signs; would have recognized the serious nature of Chief of Police John Long, and would have either been politely contrite or simply kept his big mouth shut. Not Josh Walker though, he was a bit of a hot head and a whole lot of a smart ass.

"Ok young Mr. Walker," John took a half step towards Josh, "we seem to have a bit of a misunderstanding; you seem to have me confused with someone that would... put up with your juvenile delinquent attitude." John's voice was deep, almost a growl. He placed his left hand firmly on Josh's right shoulder and continued talking. "I'm certain we can get on the same page boy."

Josh looked directly at the hand on his shoulder then back at Big John Long and ill advisedly remarked: "What ever."

Even from across the street I could see the striations of muscles in Big John's forearm as he clamped his hand down on Josh's shoulder. Initially Josh squirmed a little, trying to break free, but when he realized he couldn't get loose he clamped his own hands down on John's wrist; trying to break his grasp. Young Josh Walker's two hands were no match for John's one enormous mitt. Josh fell to his knees in pain and John stood above him still clamping down like a vice on his shoulder.

Norma Thompson gasped beside me when she saw the commotion across the street. Norma seemed to think there was trouble and someone otta call for backup for John Long or something. I just laughed and said: "Maybe we should call for backup for Josh; I don't think ole' Big John needs any help."

"Now you listen son... and you listen real good," John had pure rage in his voice now. "You and I are gonna quickly come to an understanding; or I'm gonna tear your goddamn arm off right at the shoulder... you understand me you smart ass little shit?" John clamped down extra hard and then smacked Josh on the back of the head with his free hand.

"Ok ok!" Replied Josh in a high pitched tone.

"You gonna keep that smart mouth of yours closed now?"

"Yeah yeah!"

"Yeah what boy?"

"Ye- ye- yes sir... yes sir," Josh almost sounded like he was going to cry now; he must have been in some serious pain and a lot of humiliation ta' boot.

"Better... better," John released his grasp on Josh's shoulder, but Josh remained on the ground as he started rubbing his shoulder with his hand. "On your feet soldier," said John with an exacerbated chuckle.

John didn't even look around to see if anyone saw him being... well overly rough with the young man. John Long didn't even seem to care. Think maybe he wanted folks to see what you get when you back sass him?

Josh slowly got back to his feet and John leaned up against the beat up Ford pickup, taking out a fresh pinch of Skoll. John Long initially looked a little annoyed with the situation but now seemed to be more satisfied at getting his point across.

"I'll tell you what Mr. Walker... I'd thought about just one ticket for speeding for ya today, but with your attitude I'm gonna have to delve them all out... each violation." John looked smug.

"Oh come on sir can't you cut me a break?" Josh now sounded contrite at least.

"Ok young man here's the break I'll give you. If you don't come back into Barnsdall driving the way you did today then the next time I see you I won't stomp you're scrawny ass."

Josh just looked down at John's feet while he continued to rub his sore shoulder.

"In fact... Josh, if I were you I wouldn't even come back to town... I'd drive around Barnsdall anytime you need to get from one side to another. I know what you're thinking... that's a whole bunch of miles out of the way to get on down to Tulsa or where ever, but trust me son... it'll save you from the beatin' you'll likely get if I catch you in my town again. Am I making myself perfectly clear Mr. Walker?" John's tone of voice was polite, but his words were unmistakably threatening, and the scariest part for Josh was that he knew John really meant them.

"Yes sir," Josh replied in almost a whimper without looking up from John's feet.

"Good," John smiled. "Now return to your vehicle while I skip on back to mine and write out your violations... this may take a while." John had strong sarcasm in his voice.

Josh returned to the cab of his pickup without saying a word. He walked kinda slumped over; like a whipped pup. Anyway, he surely wasn't arrogant anymore.

John walked back to his car and sat there for a long time. It looked like he wasn't doing anything but enjoying his dip of snuff, occasionally spitting into an empty coke can. I think he just wanted to make ole' Josh wait and wait. Let the boy think about it good and hard there in the cab of his truck. Years of experience has certainly shown Chief of Police John Long how to push a law breakers buttons. In a sense you could say Big John delved out his own measure of punishment that is usually reserved for the court system. It's something to remember, unless you want some of that punishment comin' your way if you start cuttin' up in Barnsdall.

Now I can't get in the man's head, but I just bet John wanted to make damn sure that hick farm boy just passing through town knew who the man was. He's the man... he's the law. John surely seems to have that need; ya know to not only be the law but to be seen as the ultimate. The ultimate law, the big brother, the overseer... the man! I suppose Big John is; at least in the small pond of Barnsdall. Big fish!

Josh accepted his several tickets and ya know what? I've not seen him 'round here since.
A Day In The Life

As told to me by Miss Jennings

"Your Momma's quite a good wife and mother honey," said Miss Jennings as she began to settle into her description of her good friend.

I chose not to say anything; just to listen. Goodness knows I wouldn't a' been able to get a word in edgewise anyways. That woman can talk a blue streak.

"Yeah Jessi, after taking you to school Katherine has her routine to keep things orderly for her family. Usually she heads right on back home to get busy on some housework."

"From sweepin' and moppin' the kitchen to vacuumin' the carpets throughout the whole house... you know I help her sometimes don't ya?" Miss Jennings was talking about a hundred miles an hour, running her sentences together and all. Sometimes it's hard to tell where her statements end and her questions begin. 'Course you don't have the time to answer her questions anyways as she usually answers 'em before you can.

A portly lady, I think about two years my Momma's junior (though she looks about ten years older); Miss Jennings is often referred to as a fire plug. She's certainly got the color right with that bright red hair. She acts kinda like a chubby ferret that just drank about a dozen cups of coffee; but I like her, she's sorta funny.

"Yeah, I help Katherine ever'time I get the chance, that's how I know what she does during the day. Matter of fact, I sometimes spend whole school days with your Momma and Johnny just helpin' out and talkin' and stuff." Miss Jennings smiled real big like that was some prize or something; guess it was to her.

"If I was to keep my house as clean as Katherine keeps hers I might be able to snag a big strapping husband like your Daddy! Ha ha," Miss Jennings nudged me on the shoulder. "Fact is I'm not able to snag any husband... oh well I have good friends... I'm blessed in other ways." Something told me Miss Jennings didn't truly feel blessed; she seemed lonely really.

"Yeah your Momma doesn't just stop with the floors, nearly daily, she dusts too. I usually bring my own feather duster I like so well. Bought it on the television you know. I mean it looked real good and it was real cheap so I thought why not right? I mean I could probably run to Bartlesville or down to Tulsa and find one just as good for a little less maybe, but then I'd have to take a whole day, or at least a half, and also pay for gas and then I'd probably get hungry on the trip and have to pay for a meal out, you know it's a lot cheaper to eat at home than it is in a restaurant or even fast food really. You know that honey? Well where was I, oh yeah, dusting....

Miss Jennings rambled on like this for some time. She would start one thought and then before she was finished she'd move on to another. She'd ask a question then answer it herself. I didn't have to say a word in the conversation, which I didn't really mind.

When Miss Jennings said: "Jessi you're such a good conversationalist for a young girl!" I nearly laughed my ears off. Like I said I hadn't said a word really. Maybe I was a good listener for Miss Jennings but not a good conversationalist. I think.

"I just love spending time helpin' out, and before ya know it we're rushin' up on lunch time. We usually start cookin' 'round, oh I don't know, maybe eleven or so. Well on most days anyways, some days we start a little later and have to hurry the cookin', those are sandwich and chips days sometimes. We have to do that especially when your Daddy, the night before, drags in grease on his shoes, from his working on that hunk of junk out back, and soils the carpets. You know how hard it is to get grease out of nice carpets? Well let me tell ya hon, it's hard. Takes us most of the morning and runs right into our cookin' time. But Katherine won't give up on it she just keeps cleaning until the carpets look new. She's quite the trooper; get it trooper like policeman like your Daddy? Ha ha." Miss Jennings was rambling at such a pace now it was kind of difficult to keep up with her. I sometimes wonder if she can even understand herself. She was fidgeting something awful too. Quirky behavior you know, but a little endearing too for some reason. I like little quirks in folks, makes me feel more normal for some reason; makes me less self-conscious.

"Well honey you already know your Momma's a good cook. I know you like to eat at the school with your friends, but you sure don't know what you're missing, that is Katherine's lunch meals. Most days they are real special (not just the sandwich thing like on dirty carpet days), things like stew or cheeseburgers or chicken pot pies or Mexican and sometimes she even makes stir-fry, and lots of other stuff; your Daddy sure does like those lunches. You'd really like it too hun." Something told me Miss Jennings liked the eating better than the cooking. I think with Momma it's the other way around.

"Ya know lunch is when Johnny really gets talkative. He asks all kinds of questions like: 'what doin?... what doin?' and 'me help?' and says stuff like 'mine mine MINE!!!' you know what I'm talkin' about right? Well he's a joy to have around, such a happy little boy. But then you know that right? You really love you brother don't you? Of course you do, I can tell." I just smiled and nodded not daring to try to get a word in between Miss Jennings speed talkin'.

"Lunch is the next best meal to dinner and you know what's real good for lunch hon? Breakfast! Yeah that's right breakfast food is best for lunch, that's what I think, sure do. I mean is there really a bad time of day for pancakes. I could eat 'em anytime. Yeah I'd like to find the person that invented pancakes and give them a big smooch right on the lips. That must be a special person that invented pancakes, like a genius or something. I sure do think so, don't you? Yeah of course you do honey, there great!" I simply nodded again... and really meant the nod too.

"Oh and honey, now not everyday mind you, but we usually go shoppin' after lunch. Yeah we load little Johnny into his car seat and off we go down to the market or sometimes we make the trip to Bartlesville when Katherine feels it necessary, you know if she needs lots of stuff or something special they don't carry at any of the little stores here in town. Katherine's real thoughtful. I mean she likes to think about the town folk, you know shop at their stores and bring them business when she can. In fact she'll pay a little bit more for something in town if they have it, even if she could probably get it cheaper in B'ville. She don't tell Big John that though, he probably would want to keep a tighter hold on those purse strings than that, but your Momma cares too much about the town folk to spend the family money elsewhere if she doesn't have to. She's sweet like that. But you know that don't ya? Well of course you do. Anyways she's such a caring person, your mother, that's probably why I like her so."

The more Miss Jennings talked so good about my Momma the more I thought: if selling my Momma as a perfect wife and mother was a nickel, Miss Jennings would be a millionaire. Momma certainly does focus in on the life, and I suppose work, of the dutiful wife and mother. Dutiful, another one of my spelling words recently. I like using it, it sounds cool; d-u-t-i-f-u-l. Anyways, Momma seems to be pretty old fashion, I mean she knows her place. She even says that when Daddy gets real far out of line but tells Momma to keep quiet about it. When I ask her why she doesn't give Daddy a piece of her mind, or why doesn't she stop him from doing or saying mean things; she says things like: "Now Jessica, a wife knows her place. In a marriage and a family the wife has her place and the husband has his. Things go along, and we all get along, much better when we know our places and stick to them closely. Your Daddy doesn't often tread in my areas and I try never to tread into his. Ultimately his decisions are his and it's not my place to question or change him."

She has a good point I guess, but when I ask her why he questions her decisions sometimes, Momma usually just changes the subject and doesn't want to talk about it anymore. I don't really know what that means, but it almost seems as if she's blind to those things, like she can't see things aren't really fair to her sometimes; like she's living in the clouds or in some artificial perfect world in her mind. I don't know it just seems like she's so positive she often misses, or chooses to miss, some important things in Daddy that might need to be changed; or at least influenced by a woman's touch. But Momma won't go there. Maybe someday I'll fully understand why.

"Yeah I really enjoy shopping days, you know watching Johnnie look at all the stuff in the stores and such and ask all his little boy questions and such, you know learning and all." Miss Jennings went on and on about shopping for quite some time; rambling really.

The more Miss Jennings talked the more I nodded and eventually I began to day dream. I mean there's only so much one way conversation someone can take right? Being a good listener's one thing, but if you lend an ear to Miss Jennings she'll take it, in fact both of them, and she's off and running for a long while; like a marathon or something.

Well I began day dreaming about fishin' with Daddy. I think that's our best time together. Now he doesn't always want me to go really, goes with his buddies most times. But when we do go, "Daddy Daughter Day", that's what we call it, is the best. It's usually a Saturday mornin' or something and Momma stays home with Johnny cookin' breakfast. Daddy and I take our aluminum boat down to Bird Creek and paddle to a good spot and catch some big catfish or bass. I'll tell ya, Bird Creek has some big brim too; but I don't even mind catchin' carp or drum. They're really no good for cookin' Momma says, but I don't care 'cause they fight like the dickens and are fun to reel in.

Anyways, want to know something really cool? Daddy carries everything down there to the creek; I don't have to carry even one thing. He puts everything in the boat and then lifts the boat off the ground and puts it up on his head and with his arms used for balancing the boat he just trots on down to the creek like he's carrying nothing but a feather pillow on his head. I tell ya, it's like a hundred and fifty yards and he doesn't even get tired. That's how strong Daddy is.

"Oh and the post office too, we generally stop by the post office on the way home from shopping. We usually hang out there for a bit just chit chatting with Thelma Allen, you know she's the Post Mistress, that's a funny title now isn't it? Post Mistress, just sounds funny, just sounds ya know, wrong really, don't you think? Anyways, Katherine and I like to chew the fat with Thelma and fill up a good portion of our afternoon." Miss Jennings wasn't even taking breaths between her sentences. She was getting a little red faced, but something told me she had the stamina to keep on going.

"We, that is your Momma and I, like to talk to folks as they come into the post office too ya know. Yeah we sure do." Miss Jennings managed a small pause now to have a gulp of coffee.

Now I know my Momma pretty darn well. She's a better listener than a talker. So if I had to put a bet down I'd have to say that Miss Jennings likes to talk to folks that came into the post office and Momma just listens and smiles a lot. Maybe since Miss Jennings considers Momma to be such a friend she'd allow her to talk a little bit more than she does others; but I really doubt it. I don't think Miss Jennings one way conversations and marathon speeches are rudeness really, I just don't think she can help herself. Maybe she's hyper or somethin'?

"Ya and after the trip to the post office we get ready to come pick you up from school. Well on the days you let us. I know you like to walk home with your friends a lot don't you? Well of course you do, most kids do. Anyways, Johnny gets real excited when we tell him we're gonna go get Jessica. He starts clappin' his hands and sayin' stuff like: "'essca 'escca" or "'ick up at pool pool pool POOL!" it's real cute ya know. Yeah little Johnny really does love you, thinks you hung the moon ya know? Of course you know, I mean you love him that much too don't ya? Well of course you do. Ya'll sure do have a good family. You're blessed, don't forget that, a lot of kids don't have such a great family life, you're so blessed."

Miss Jennings got a little teary eyed at this point. She's a sweet lady and I understand her sentimental tears but it was still a little awkward. I mean I'm pretty grown up and all, but still an old lady crying to a seven year old kinda freaked me out. I mean what could I say? So I said nothin', I just nodded my head; that seemed to work.

After all of Miss Jennings ramblings it was a little hard to pin down what she was really trying to say in the first place. I mean she runs all over the place around a thought, but if I had to say what point Miss Jennings was trying to make, it would be: She thinks I have a great family, a good, strong (and handsome) provider in Daddy, a sweet little brother in Johnny and a great wife and mother in Momma. I can't argue with that. But something else I took away from Miss Jennings was how Momma's life is one of quiet acceptance of the way things are. That is to say, she goes with the flow and enjoys life as it is. I know Miss Jennings didn't say it, but something about the way she said what she said made me feel like Momma intentionally keeps life simple and doesn't get involved in the big stuff, either in her day to day life or in dealing with her family and especially her husband. Don't ask me why I took this away from the conversation, I just did. It eats at me, and I don't yet know why.
A Walk Home

Now mind you, while Momma would like to pick me up from school everyday, like she insists on dropping me off in the mornings, I'm a big girl and any day I can get away with it I walk home on my own, or with friends.

I think Momma likes to get Johnny all excited about coming to get me and she likes to see me come out of the school with my book bag, she always says I'm so cute and all. But... like I said I'm a big girl and I need to make my own way home sometimes; most times really. I enjoy the alone time if I'm walkin' alone, or doin' a little bit of cuttin' up with my friends when we walk together. To be honest I'd probably walk home everyday if I could get away with it. Even if it was rainin' and especially if it's snowin'. If it's snowing I like to stop off at the hill and do some sledding. There's always kids doin' it when it snows and there's usually an extra sled right there... I don't even have to go home to get mine, so why bother. But usually Momma thinks it's too cold or somethin' and insists on picking me up on those days. I tell her I won't break ya know; I'm tough. But she just insists I'll always be her little girl. That can get old pretty darn fast I tell ya; Rrrrr!

I usually try to make my walks home as long as possible, especially when it's nice outside. I mean it's not like I don't want to get home and all, goodness knows I enjoy seeing Johnny and Momma, but it's sure nice being on my own.

Sometimes I just like to walk home alone. Now some folks in a big city might think a seven year old walking home from school all alone is just trouble waiting to happen. But in Barnsdall, Oklahoma you're pretty safe at any age. With my Daddy being Chief of Police I feel extra safe. He wouldn't dare let anything happen to me; not that he watches me walk home or anything, just that he keeps our town safe... ever'body knows that.

Besides folks these days think nobody's safe. I guess the TV news keeps people all worried about every little thing that happens in America. As if their world is crumbling or something. Mr. Wheeler, my history teacher, just says it's "sensationalism", just over blowing things to sell their ideas so people will watch their exciting news show and then the sponsors will pay more for commercial time. I don't know 'bout that, but it sure does seem like people think everything is so fragile today.

I'll bet a hundred years ago kids my age were walking home from school and such and nobody thought it was a big deal. Heck, I heard people were wedding at thirteen and fourteen back then. Surely they must have grown up pretty fast. Now-a-days it seems like folks think an eighteen year old is a child. Weird if you ask me. All I'm saying is the world isn't coming to an end just 'cause kids play outside when their young. It ain't like we're made out of fine china. And if someone did try to harm me I'd do just what my Daddy told me to do: I'd kick them square in the yarbles and run like the dickens screaming my head off "FIRE FIRE FIRE!". See Daddy says if you yell "help!" nobody comes, but you yell "FIRE! and everyone and their dog will come a runnin'; either to see the spectacle of the event or to put the fire out. I suppose he's got a point. Don't ya think?

Yeah sometimes I like to walk home all alone in our safe little town, and when I get older and have kids I'll let them walk home too. I just don't think you can go through life being worried about ever' little thing. Kids need to be kids and not worry 'bout that stuff. Just 'cause TV says we should be afraid of strangers doesn't mean I have to be afraid. I'm like Daddy... I ain't afraid of nothin'. Well except for my nightmares sometimes.

Uh huh sometimes I like to walk home all alone, but most times I like to walk home with friends. Especially my bestest friend Heather. She's my buddy. We usually leave out from school at a full run. I'm real fast ya know and Heather's pretty fast too. We haven't ever really raced or anything but I'm bettin' we're about the same speed 'cause we manage to stay side by side as far as we go. That is until we tire out and decide to slow down and smell the roses.

We like to skip part of the way home. It may seem silly to adults, but us kids find skippin' real fun! It just is, I don't know why; don't really care neither. Heather's a good skipper, she can sing and skip in time; that's pretty darn cool.

Heather and I usually try to get away from the pack after school, but it usually doesn't work. For some reason we are nearly always tracked down by the boys. "Pests", that's what Heather often calls them. I don't mind them so much... that is except for that smart-aleck David Spencer. He's that one that's always calling me "Chief O' Police Jessi" and punching me in the arm not too hard; like a wimp or somethin'. He's quite annoying really.

When the boys track us down, Heather and I spend half our time ignoring and the other half laughing. Boys sure can be funny. You ignore them enough and they start acting out... you know like showing off, trying to get attention. They're kinda like puppets; you pull the right strings and they react. I don't usually play those games as much as Heather though. She seems to get a real kick out of it.

Like this one time when David tracked us down just across the street from the Post Office on the way home.

"Hey David," Heather said while looking over her shoulder back at David. See he was nipping at our heels.

"Yeah," David replied sounding happy just to be acknowledged.

"You're lookin' kinda chicken today," said Heather with a devilish tone to her voice. She grinned at me.

"What?" David sounded perplexed.

"I bet you're too chicken to run over there to the Post Office and lower the flag." I couldn't help but giggle a little when Heather said this.

"I ain't chicken! But why in the world would I want to do that?" David was confused. If you ask me, I think David's usually confused.

This is normally where Heather gets really good at manipulating boys. She doesn't just answer the simple question of why; but instead pokes a little fun, pulls his puppet strings a bit.

"Oh never mind David." Heather sounded put out. She then turned to me and said loudly while laughin' a little: "he probably doesn't even know how to lower a flag on a flag pole".

That was all the pushing it took. David, as usual, took the bait... hook, line and sinker as Daddy says.

"I do so," David yelped like a pup.

"Sure David," said Heather very sarcastically.

"Yeah... sure David," I chimed in with a little help to Heather's cause. Not that she ever needs any help in these kinds of matters. She's real good at 'em.

"I do so know how to lower a flag, I do so!" David sounded like he might cry.

I know it's a bit mean, but it's funny he'd get so worked up about whether or not he can lower a flag.

Heather leaned over and whispered in my ear: "The Jedi mind tricks work well on the weak mind." I burst out laughing. This only upset poor David further.

Heather's got her tricks down solid. She knows no boy likes it when the girls whisper in front of them in each others ears and then laugh. The boys think we're making fun of them. They can't know that for sure... but they're right.

"Oh just forget it." Reverse psychology is what they call Heather's next ploy.

"No, no I sure can lower that flag." David sounded very prideful as he pointed to the flag across the street.

Prides one of those seven deadly sins ya know. Momma says it never helps... it only hurts. Oh, that and that when you swallow your pride it sometimes feels like tryin' to swallow a basketball; just gets lodged about half way down and bothers ya for a long time. I think I know what she means.

Just then Heather spun around and faced David, saying very boldly: "Prove it."

"I can do it," replied David kinda mad.

"So you say," replied Heather, now with her hands on her hips.

"I can."

"PPPrrrooove it!" said Heather with a smile in her voice.

"I will," said David turning toward the flag pole.

"Good," said heather smiling at me now.

A few seconds past as David appeared to be visually assessing the task ahead of him.

"Well get on with it then," Heather goaded.

"Ok," mumbled David, and off he went across the street. He kinda scurried.

Heather just grabbed my arm and started pulling me down the street, away from David. I didn't really get what she was doing until she said: "He'll be busy for quite a while... see I tied about fifty knots in the flag pole rope on the way to school this morning... he's so sure he can lower that flag he'll probably still be there come tomorrow morning tryin' to prove it... now let's walk home without that pesky boy." She started skipping and I started laughing.

Sure it was a little cruel a-doin' David that a-way, but... well kids'll be kids right?

So Heather and I enjoyed our nice stroll home, talkin' 'bout girl stuff; which is hard to do with those darn boys around. It's nice to spend time with Heather; she can be a lot of fun. She lives just around the corner from me so we walk together a lot actually.

Dropping Heather off at her house I usually sprint home the block or so that's left. Waiting for me are bunch of happy folks. Johnny and my doggy Hank and of course Momma are there to welcome me. It's quite the scene with Johnny yellin': "home from pool" or something to the like. Also, Hank is jumpin' up and down and runnin' around in circles, going round and round we call it, and waggin' his tail about ninety to nothing. Momma's just calm and sweet asking me about me day and patting me on the head saying stuff like: "you hungry Jessica" or "how'd your tests go" or "so good to have you home". She's quite the good Momma.

Yeah my walks home are fun and getting home is fun too. Momma makes our family life real good.

Momma says we were blessed and I have to agree; which made the events that happened a little later on even harder to swallow.
The Bar Fight

As I overheard Mr. Nielsen telling Mr. Tolver outside of the Barnsdall Market

Yeah I guess ole' John was woke up not even an hour after puttin' his head to the pillow. It must be somethin' to be on call 24/7. Must really suck.

Katherine heard John say into the phone: "Yeah, Ok... is that so... ok I'm on my way... I said I'm on my way!" and then he slammed the phone down. He got up and, not quickly really but quite deliberately, dawned his Chief of Police uniform and gun belt.

Noticing Katherine was awake and watchin' him he said softly: "Sounds like there's a scuffle down at the bar... gonna go straighten things out." And with that John left the bedroom only stopping in the kitchen for a moment to decide if he should make some coffee or just head out. He decided against the coffee due to time constraints. He did not appreciate those constraints or being woke up in the middle of night. He's on call most of the time, but it's a rare occasion when he actually does get called. John Long makes it clear to everyone in Barnsdall that he don't like being called out at night... not one damn bit.

John opened the door to his police cruiser and took a deep breath as he ducked down his large six foot six frame into the front seat. Behind the wheel John decided quickly to not run hot, figuring lights and/or sirens would not be necessary this time of night. Hell he'd probably make the whole drive to the bar without even seeing a car anyways. This ain't New York City he thought.

Pulling out of the gravel driveway next to his double wide trailer he saw his bedroom light was on and he thought: Katherine must've gotten up. Damn shame she had to be disturbed by that phone call. There better be a good reason why I'm headin' down to the bar. If not somebody's gonna pay for my wife being disturbed late at night; hell and me too.

John drove with the windows down trying to let the night air wake him up a bit. A good police officer wouldn't go into a potentially violent situation groggy. You need to be clear headed, on your toes, ready for anything that may come your way. Even in a small town anything can happen. Chief of Police John Long knows that. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head back and forth to force some clarity.

As John passed Second Street headin' up to Main he began to think about how many beers he drank last night. A last night that actually only ended for him about an hour ago. He knows he can handle his liquor, but didn't want to find out if others could, so he popped three pieces of cinnamon candy in his mouth a puffed a breath into his hand to see if he could smell the alcohol on his own breath. His experience with DUI's told him most folks that are drinkin' can't smell the true strength of the odor of alcohol on themselves. Big John figured he could get away with a bit more than the average Joe though. One of the few perks of being Chief of Police; drinkin' and drivin' doesn't turn into a night in jail.

About a half a block from Zelma's Bar John slowed his police car to a crawl and spit the candy out the window. He wanted to assess the situation from a distance before tackling what ever lied before him. What John saw didn't surprise him much. A few cars sittin' out front, the front door of the bar was open and there were several folks peering inside while several other folks were movin' 'round frantically and screaming various cuss words (mostly women by the way). In between the cuss words they were yelling something 'bout "somebody otta kick his ass", or "we need some help here", or "why doesn't somebody stop this", or "this whole thing is harshin' my buzz". You know crap like that.

Ole' John could hear the yellin' from down the block, but he really couldn't make out the words until he pulled up in front. That's when Mary Jacobs came running up to his driver's side window yelping 'bout: "Jesus where you been John, we needed you for a while now? You need to get in there and straighten things out." She looked a little upset, but more interested really. That girl'd hang around for a fight anytime. Hell for all John new she was the one that started it.

"Thanks for the tip Mary, but I'll take things in a bit before I decide who or what to straighten," John said as he leaned back in the driver's seat and took out a pinch of snuff.

"Hell John, you just gonna sit there," said Mike Wagoner as he stepped up beside Mary.

"Back away from the vehicle Mike," said John in a low growl. "I don't need your stupid drunk ass interfering with my duties... got it."

"Alright John, I's just saying that......" Mike's voice trailed off as he turned and walked away from the police car. He knew not to mess with Big John; especially when his sleep had been interrupted. Hell or anytime for that matter.

Mary took that as a signal that she otta probably remove herself from the situation too, so she sorta staggered off over by her own car; but within good eye view of the front door of the bar. She wouldn't wanta miss anything ya know.

John opened the car door and eased himself out onto the ground. He stood tall and stretched for a moment. His slow and easy movements exuded confidence. Confidence in his ability to remedy what ever situation lived in that bar and/or the confidence to lick any man in there if necessary.

"You gonna stop this shit John?" said Tammi Walker as John slowly strolled past her.

John just spit a dark line of snuff into the grass as he stepped over the curb and said: "we'll see".

Tammi took that as a yes and replied: "Good, the Calvary will be coming directly." Several people giggled around her.

John just kept walking; straight faced. As he approached the front door of Zelma's he could hear a commotion. John didn't appear to be worried though.

Walking into Zelma's John immediately glanced at Ralph, Zelma's husband, tending behind the bar. Ralph gave a matter of fact look at John and a nod of his head in the general direction of the pool tables.

John saw a group of folks standing around the dance floor, which is just past the pool tables. They were in a circle. Some were cheering and a couple of girls were cryin'. John slowly approached the small crowd anticipating what he would see in the middle of that circle of drunkin' bar patrons.

Ole' John was right at his first thought. Two fellas were rollin' around on the ground fightin'... or maybe more wrastlin' really.

"Clear a path yelled John loudly," taking charge of the situation both in tone and posture; he frightened several of the onlookers that had their backs to him; not seeing him approach. They quickly jumped to the side. That was a good thing 'cause Big John was comin' through now at a pretty good clip.

John grabbed the one ole' boy, that was on top, up by the nap of the neck. I think his name is Chad something or another. John held onto him while he reached down and grabbed the other guy just above his right elbow, swinging him up to his feet.

Chad came to his senses quickly and allowed, but then again it's not like he could have stopped him really, John to push him up against the wall without a struggle. But while John was focusing on Chad, the other fella (believe his name's Tommy King) gave a strong chop to Big John's wrist; breaking his hold. When this happened John leaned forward a bit toward Chad and said: "stay put". He said this so calmly Chad really didn't know if he was being told or asked. Chad decided simply to say: "yes sir"; a good decision.

John turned around to face Tommy.

Now while Tommy isn't much of a wrastler (remember Chad was the one on top when Big John entered the picture), apparently he has some kinda belt in Karate. You know like a brown or black or somethin'. A prideful (and youthful) man, Tommy isn't one to turn the other cheek. He likes to think of himself as the toughest guy around, and he often starts fights to prove it. Undefeated is what I heard he is. But then pickin' on drunks in bars is a pretty easy way to stay that way.

"Come on you son of a bitch; you think you're so tough," said Tommy as he took two steps back and began bouncing up and down in his Karate stance.

"Boy, you best listen and listen good... get your ass against that wall... right now." John didn't really sound mad or anything, but he sure did sound like he meant his words. Tommy continued to bounce up and down and now flashed a big smile that said come on old man. John recognized it well.

Chief of Police John Long's size normally scares folks off from pickin' a fight with him. That's a good thing for a lawman really, you know being able to avoid the violence when ya can. But in this case the size discrepancy was minute. Tommy stands... oh I'd say just a couple of inches shorter than Big John, but he's got a good thirty pounds on John.

"Oh you'd probably just shoot me if I started gettin' the best of ya," said Tommy with a laugh. "Big man with a badge and a gun."

"Boy don't push me, I'm in no mood," replied John with a funny smirk on his face. It was almost as if he was drawing Tommy in with his sarcasm. Setting ole' Tommy up or somethin'. Like saying, no-no let's not go this direction, but really meaning somethin' else. I guess I'm saying John looked like he was ready and willing to fight. No more than that, he looked like he really wanted to.

"You walk around this town all tough actin' just 'cause you know no one will challenge you with that gun and badge on," said Tommy as he looked around the room. He seemed to be soliciting some support from the crowd. He got it as someone far in the back, well out of John's sight, yelled out: "Yeah, that's right... kick his ass Tommy!"

"You're under arrest," said John in a low growl. He spoke very slowly... calmly. "Up against the wall."

"That's what I thought, I thought you'd...." Tommy didn't finish his sentence before Big John put his tough reputation into action.

Tommy's blood ran cold when John reached up and snatched the badge off of his shirt, then took his gun belt off and handed it to Ralph, who'd managed to work his way to the front of the crowd to watch the events. Ralph was about the only sober person in the bar and definitely the only person John Long trusted to hand his gun over to. John and Ralph's known each other for years; they do a lot of fishin' and huntin' together ya know.

John didn't say a word he just handed his gun belt to Ralph and took a slow step towards Tommy. He didn't assume any kind of fightin' stance or nothin'. No, John just looked like he was taking a Sunday stroll.

"Ok... O... Ok... here we go," said Tommy kind of lookin' around the room. He didn't seem so cock sure of himself now. It's fair to say he thought Big John would stick to the book and just keep talkin' him down like most policemen do. Tommy had picked a lot of fights; gotten pretty good at it too. You know picking a fight with someone who would cower and back down, or that he could quickly whip. But he had definitely miss calculated the situation this time.

John didn't raise his hands or nothin'. Instead, he just stood there staring at Tommy. He looked like a Lion stalking its prey. The room fell silent.

Now I don't know if it was fear or beer or what, but Tommy couldn't have telegraphed a punch better if he'd planned it out a week in advance. A slow round house right is what it was... with not much on it.

But what was stranger than the odd looking girly punch, was that John Long didn't move a muscle. Hell he didn't even blink. He let Tommy hit him right on the jaw. Now even though it wasn't a very hard punch; you know even a slap makes quite a sound. From the sound of it most men would've been flat on their backs. But it was more bark than bite. That is at least on ole' Big John Long's square jaw.

John kept his body fully erect, only swiveling his head on his shoulders a little. You know kinda movin' with the punch. He just kept glaring at Tommy King and then he spit a dark line of snuff onto the floor. Some folks in the audience thought it was blood (they said stuff like, get 'im again Tommy... quick) but it wasn't... just snuff. See John long knows how to take a punch... you've got to move with it, not against it.

Now John let an evil grin run across his face and he said: "alright then", taking two quick half steps forward.

The crowd let out a big gasp and Tommy didn't really have the time to do much of anything. Big John moved exceptionally fast; especially for a large man.

It's the Einstein theory ya know? E=MC2. That is Energy = Mass x the Speed of Light squared (in a vacuum that is). Or put another way: Force = Mass x Velocity. I like the first way of thinkin' though really, 'cause that's what John moved like; the speed of light... squared. And Lord knows Big John's got the mass thing covered. Hell Tommy didn't even know what hit him.

John let loose a left hook from hell and caught Tommy square on the chin... he was out cold, but still on his feet. John kept him there with an uppercut that landed more on the throat than the chin. He then followed up with a right cross and then a double left hook, one to the head and one to the body. That last left hook was a downward punch to the kidney and killed two birds with one stone. It left no doubt that Tommy would be pissin' blood for a week and also forced his body into the ground so hard that he wouldn't be getting up for a lot longer than that.

Tommy didn't verbalize a sound. The only sound that filled the room was a whacking noise, kind of like the sound a boxer's heavy bag would make if you hit it with a baseball bat... a full swing with that bat too. That's the power of John's fists all right. It was somethin' to see... but it made ya want to look away I'll tell ya.

The whole crowd took a full step back as blood began to run over the dance floor. Some of the girls were saying something about an ambulance and the guys all looked pasty faced. A guy near the back said to his friend: "that's the worst beatin' I've ever seen a fella take". He hadn't seen the half of it ... literally.

With a slow look around the room, and a glare in his eye (more looking through the crowd than at them), John turned back to Tommy lying in a pile on the floor. Again as quick as lightnin' John was at work. He was puttin' the boots to him... hard... real hard... too hard. For a lawman John seemed to be more than crossin' over that thin red line. Hell he'd run passed it and didn't look back.

You could hear the ribs crackin' and the air goin' out of poor Tommy King's lungs. "Someone stop him," came from the back of the room. "Call that Ambulance," said another. Several of the folks filed out quickly. Somebody threw up just outside the front door of Zelma's Bar. But John just kept on kickin'. He didn't seem to be impacted at all by the level of violence and damage he was inflicting.

Ralph said: "John... John... now friend... that'll do... you've made your point." Indeed John had made his point; quite an impact on the crowd. If he was trying to let folks know that you don't mess with Chief of Police John Long (badge, gun or not), then he succeeded fantastically.

With one last kick John made sure Tommy wouldn't be talkin' back for a while. He'd be clamped up good and tight. Wired up really; with a broken jaw and virtually no teeth remaining.

John then slowly, and calmly, turned around and retrieved his gun belt and badge from Ralph. He wasn't even breathing much.

"If that ambulance is on its way then I'll be headin' home to bed then," John said as he synched up his gun belt. The bar was starting to empty by this time.

"K," said Ralph looking at the front door of the bar; trying his damnedest not to notice the beaten and broken man lying on the floor just a few feet from him. With his peripheral vision he saw John grab a napkin off a table and (as he propped his right foot up on a chair) wipe the blood off his boot. Ralph thought about what a horrible mess this was. He felt sick and looked like he'd been painted with white wash. Ralph's a tough guy, but that's how brutal the scene was.

"I'll fill out the paperwork tomorrow," said Big John as he softly patted his friend Ralph on the back.

"Sounds like a plan," responded Ralph in a squeaky voice.

"You have a good night now buddy." With that John slowly made his way to the front door. He walked like a man coming out of an all you can eat buffet... you know full and content and in no hurry. It was an odd thing to watch after the events that had just taken place.

Just as John reached the front door he quickly turned around and said loudly to the bar room; of what folks was left in the bar room anyway: "I'm sure all the witnesses saw me arrest him, then he hit me and I did my duty... right? John waited a long moment and watched as folks looked at the floor nodded their heads.

"Right Ralph?" John spoke a little louder this time.

"That's what I seen John." Ralph sounded like a beaten man.

"Good... goodnight then." John disappeared out the front door.

As John walked to his police car Dusty Brazel asked him if he really had to put such a beatin' on Tommy.

"Just doin' my duty," replied John with smile. "If you wanta file a complaint I'm sure there are plenty of witnesses that'll see things my way. John poked Dusty real hard in the chest with his middle and index fingers. Probably put quite the bruise on him. Dusty clammed up after that.

Somebody yelled from across the street: "We support ya John... Big John don't start fights... he finishes 'em!"

"That's right, said John in a smug tone. He climbed in his cruiser.

John drove home quite slowly; thinkin' to himself... about himself. He felt good, having no concerns about what he had just done. He wondered if Tommy might die from that beating. Not that he cared really, he was more concerned about how much more paperwork there would be if he did though.

John thought about the law, about enforcement, about punishment, about the courts. He felt he had exacted justice. Tommy deserved a beatin' and he got it. He asked for it, he started it, he wanted it really. Careful what you ask for, thought John.

As he pulled into his gravel driveway John saw his bedroom light was still on. Katherine was up waiting for him. He felt good about that, but it only reinforced his actions against Tommy King. That fella had disturbed John's sleep, had disturbed his wife. Tommy deserved what he got.

To add insult to injury John was going to charge Tommy with a long list of offenses, including: public drunkenness, assault and battery on Chad, resisting arrest, battery on a police officer and whole host of other crimes. Once Tommy was out of the hospital he'd be on to jail for sure. Hell, Chief of Police John Long probably charged him with loitering for lying unconscious on Zelma's dance floor after catchin' that beating from him.

It was quite a night thought John. Good for law enforcement, good for his reputation, good in the fight against wrong doers, and great for the town of Barnsdall knowin' law and order will be kept. Bad for Tommy King... oh well, thought John as his head hit the pillow.
A (former) Good Friend

Mondays aren't normally my favorite days. But this Monday I had high hopes for a good day. I was in a great mood and breakfast tasted extra special. Daddy seemed like he was in quite the good mood this morning as well.

I didn't even mind Momma insisting she drive me to school. Well, not too much anyways. Johnny gave me a kiss goodbye and I was stepping lively toward a group of friends I saw standing just outside the front door of the schoolhouse.

Momma had driven off and I was almost to my friends when someone pushed me hard from behind and jerked my book bag off my shoulder. The push startled me really, but not as much as the startle I got when I turned around and found out who did it.

Melissa, one of my good friends was standing there with fire in her eyes holding my book bag. She kind of swung it at me; although I don't think she was trying to hit me really. I stepped back to avoid the bag and was able to not get hit. Now with the space between us Melissa had the time to take a couple of steps towards the trash can beside the front door of the schoolhouse and drop my book bag right in. Yep, she just dropped my book bag right in the nasty trash before I could stop her.

"What'd you do that for Melissa," I asked in utter confusion.

"What comes around goes around," she said looking very angry... almost about to cry with anger really.

"Melissa, what are you talkin' about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," said Melissa with clenched fists and stomping a foot to the ground.

I of course didn't know what she was talking about, so I thought about it as I started to get my book bag out of the trash can. But... Melissa was having none of it; she shoved me to keep me from it.

"What are you doing Melissa," I was trying to stay calm, but she was being unreasonable.

"You know what I'm doing," Melissa replied as a crowd started to gather around. One of those pesky boys yelled out: "girl fight!" That only brought more kids around.

"Ok Melissa, what's up? I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

"Yes you do!"

"No... I don't. Why don't you just tell me?" I was getting kinda annoyed now.

"Your Dad!" Melissa yelped.

"What about my Daddy?"

"He's mean and he's not fair."

"What are you talking about?" I was really getting annoyed now for sure. I mean talkin' bad about someone's Ma or Pa is a real no-no around these parts ya know.

"Your damn Daddy beat up my Daddy's brother at the bar Saturday night. Yeah that's right the Chief of Police is supposed to help folks, not beat them up. He might even die, well that's what they thought at first, but he'll make it now. He's real bad hurt though... real bad." Melissa started to cry and then got mad again stomping her foot.

"I didn't hear that... what happened?" I really hadn't heard about it yet. Kinda surprised me Daddy wouldn't say somethin' about it at the dinner table... or breakfast table.

"Sure Jessi... sure... I just bet you don't know nothin' about it!" Melissa screamed and shoved me again... real hard.

"Look Melissa, I know you're upset but you don't push me again!" I was gettin' fightin' mad myself now.

"Oh, it's OK for Chief of Police John Long to push people around, but that's too good for his little Princess Jessi?" Melissa was staring right at me.

I decided to just remain silent for a minute to see if Melissa would start explaining what she was talkin' about. She did.

"Apparently this Chad guy was smarting off to my Uncle Tommy at the bar Saturday night... he was real rude and all. Anyway, Uncle Tommy and this Chad guy ended up in a fight. Apparently Uncle Tommy was beatin' him up real good, so one of Chad's friends called the cops." Melissa was at least trying to explain herself now, but she was still pretty upset.

I just stood and listened; along with the crowd that had gathered to watch the ruckus. I was later to find out, when I overheard Mr. Nielsen outside the Barnsdall Market tell the story with many different facts, that Melissa had most of the story dead wrong. That is if any of the stories I've heard are really true? Who knows what's true after a story's been told a couple of times by different folks? The stories always seem to get skewed after a while. Don't they?

Melissa continued: "I guess your Daddy was on call or somethin' because the dispatcher apparently called the meanest cop in town to the bar. He's mean and unfair I tell ya!" Melissa looked around at the crowd for a minute while she tried to compose herself.

I wanted to tell her to shut up and stop saying bad things 'bout my Daddy, but I thought it best to just listen for now. So I did.

"He came in the bar all bowed up and ready to hurt somebody. That's what everybody said! Our Chief of Police wasn't lookin' to help; he was lookin' to hurt somebody. He's like that I hear. Well apparently he must be buddies with this Chad guy 'cause he pulled my Uncle Tommy off of Chad and put his gun to my Uncle's head. Then... get this... he just let Chad go. Like he wasn't at fault at all... with his big mouth and all... he just let him go. I heard that Chad guy ran out cryin' from the lickin' Uncle Tommy gave him." Melissa looked proud at this point of her tale.

"Then your Daddy... our Chief of Police started hittin' my Uncle Tommy in the head with his gun. I'm sure my Uncle Tommy woulda licked him good if he didn't have that gun ya know. My Uncle's real tough just like my Daddy. He'd a really put the hurt on Chief of Police John Long if he didn't have that gun. That's for sure." Melissa was getting revved up again, talking in a real high pitched voice.

Now I didn't truly think Melissa's Uncle Tommy could lick my Daddy... but that was beside the point.

"Yeah my Uncle Tommy had no choice but to not fight back; or that mean John Long would shoot him. So Uncle Tommy got beat up real bad. In fact your Daddy kicked at him a whole bunch too."

Melissa stepped towards me real fast as she said this. I kinda thought she was gonna hit me, but she didn't.

Now Melissa got most of the story wrong... at least as compared to Mr. Nielsen's story I found out about later. But she sure got one thing right... Uncle Tommy did get "beat up real bad".

Melissa stopped talkin' now and just stood there with tears in her eyes and her fists clenched up. I thought it was time for me to say something.

"Melissa, I'm sorry about your Uncle Tommy," I said with sincerity. I really meant it too... really."

"Oh sure you are Jessi... you will be," Melissa's face was turning red. Well, redder than it already was actually.

"My Daddy wouldn't mean no harm and I'm sure...," I didn't get to finish.

"Didn't mean no harm! Are you kidding me?"

"What I'm trying to say is...," interrupted again.

"Your Daddy's just mean... just plain mean!"

"Now wait just a minute Melissa I..."

"No it's not just mean," Melissa interrupted again. "He's a coward; can't fight like a man, that's what my Daddy says. No, Big John Long has to hide behind a gun and a badge. He hast to beat a man at gun point rather than at a fair fight. At a fair fight he wouldn'ta stood a chance against my Uncle Tommy!" Melissa was fuming.

Now at this point in the conversation... or argument I suppose is a better term for what we were doin'... I still had some hope to talk things out. I hoped I could get Melissa to listen to reason. I had my doubts, but tried anyways.

"Listen Melissa," I made sure my voice was calm so she might relax herself; don't think it worked though. "Melissa, I'm sure my Daddy was just doing his job. Maybe some of the story you heard is... well blown up a bit?" On occasion common sense and logic works with folks... it was worth a shot right? No dice.

"Blown up a bit! Are you saying I'm blind? That I didn't see my Uncle Tommy lying in that hospital bed over in Bartlesville with his jaw wired shut and all those tubes runnin' out of him? Is that what you're saying?"

To be honest... Melissa had a point there. Don't ya think? I just remained silent to let Melissa get it all out.

"Or are you callin' my Daddy a liar. Saying the story he told me wasn't true? And I guess all the other folks in town that are talkin' 'bout the same story are liar's too? So my Daddy's a liar huh?" Melissa was being terrifically unreasonable.

"Melissa you know I'm not..." interrupted again.

"It's your Daddy that's the liar 'round these parts. He puts on that badge and drives around in his little police car that says "To Protect and Serve" on the side, but he has no intention of doing that at all. No he's the liar. He says he upholds the law, but he really is the worst at breaking it. He's scum and so are you!" Melissa's voice was loud and squeaky.

Just as a side note. My Daddy's police car doesn't have "To Protect and Serve" written anywhere on it. Melissa must have seen that on TV or somethin'?

"Melissa you stop sayin' bad things about my Daddy... I'm not saying your Daddy or anyone else is a liar, I'm just saying stories get blown up some times. You should consider that some of what you heard may not be true, that's all." I think I looked calm when I said this but I was starting to rage on the inside. Melissa's a friend and all but I was gettin' real peeved about her saying those mean things about Daddy.

This little argument went on this way a bit longer and the result was simple. I simply couldn't get Melissa to listen to reason. Couldn't get her to care about what might be the truth. I suppose when you see someone you love lying in a hospital bed all busted up you just can't see straight. You want revenge. Momma calls it "an eye for an eye". But Momma also says its wrath; and one of them seven deadly sins. A real dangerous one too.

All I know is Melissa was beyond talk. She was on a path of destruction. She was going to have somebody pay for what happened to her Uncle Tommy, and it appeared that someone was me; and not just my book bag neither.

Now before I even knew what was happenin' Melissa had stepped back a bit and then, real fast mind you, she took a swing at me. Well it wasn't really a swing, you know like a punch or anything. No it was more like a slap. Yeah that's all it really was... a slap. But still, it was aimed directly at my face.

Everything I did was instinct, and it's only after the fact that I can collect my thoughts to write this down, 'cause at the time there wasn't much thought to it at all. I just ducked and let Melissa's hand sore over my head. I didn't move much, and I sure didn't try to hit her back or even push her. Really I didn't.

Regardless of how I did nothin' to Melissa she still hit the ground... hard. See she simply missed her slap and I guess her momentum caused her to go off balance and she tripped. Tripped and fell is what she did.

"Melissa! You OK?" It was kind of amazing how quick I'd forgotten that Melissa had tried to strike me. It was because she looked so sad down there on the ground. She just looked so weak and... beaten down. That's the only way I can describe it.

Melissa stayed down for what seemed like a long time. She leaned back on her knees and looked at her open hands. She had skinned both of her palms pretty bad trying to catch herself as she fell. Now that I think about it, she's lucky she didn't break her wrists 'cause she hit the ground that hard.

"Oh shut up Jessi... just leave me be; I'm fine," Melissa had such sorrow in her voice.

"Gosh Melissa... I thought we were friends," I said with all sincerity.

"Well we ain't friends no more... no more!" Melissa slowly got up and brushed herself off, leaving little lines of blood, from her skinned palms, on the front of her shirt. She then ran off crying; leaving me standing there with everyone watching me.

I took a few minutes to gather myself. I just stood there in the same spot as the crowd that had gathered, to see the would be fight, began to thin out. I kept wondering what had just happened.

Momma's told me about how sometimes you lose friends as you're growin' up. Sometimes friends grow apart, or move, or die; but she never told me you could lose a friend like this. It was so sudden. I mean death would be sudden too, but that's different. No this was worse than death. At least with death or moving you still feel like you parted as friends. This was just awful. No Momma didn't prepare me for this; I just felt like poop.

As sad as I was there was learnin' to be done. I didn't want to be late for class so I made my way over to the trash can to retrieve my book bag. It was there in the trash, but not as I'd hoped. The weight of the bag had sorta dug it down in the trash; with several unsavory items all around it... and worse... on top of it.

I bit the bullet and just dug my hand down in there and pulled my bag out lickety split. I could tell it was gonna be a great day when I looked and saw there was a piece of nasty gum and some other smelly substance all over my book bag. Even a used tissue, yuck!
Why?

"Why Daddy," I asked as Daddy took another swig of his beer. We weren't far into dinner before that nagging question jumped off my tongue.

"Why what honey?" Daddy didn't look at me he just plunged his fork deep into his meatloaf.

Did I mention it was meatloaf night? Momma makes the best meatloaf. Sometimes I think once a week's not enough.

"Why'd you have to beat up Melissa's Daddy's brother; you know in a fight?" He may not have been lookin' at me but I sure was at him.

"What's that," Daddy mumbled with a full mouth. He looked at Momma as if to say: "help me out here... I don't want to have to explain myself". Momma just shrugged her shoulders, appearing not to want to get involved.

"Daddy 'ight! Daddy fight! Fight! Fight!!! At least Johnny was not willing to stick his head in the sand.

"Daddy, Melissa says you hurt her Uncle Tommy real bad last Saturday night; you know at the bar. Why'd ya do that?" I tried to stay calm but have to admit I felt my face flush a bit. Just thinking back to how upset Melissa was... well it upset me too.

"I'm sorry Jessi... uh Jessica... come again," Daddy replied as he put a big helping of greens in his mouth.

"John... you didn't tell me you got in a fight," said Momma with a confused look on her face. Momma and I just waited for Daddy to reply. First he had to wash down his mouthful with a big gulp of beer though.

"Well now Katherine, I wouldn't really call it a fight," said Daddy with no expression on his face.

"What would you call it then," asked Momma? Daddy looked over at me and then back at Momma.

"I'm sure glad ya'll are so concerned 'bout my welfare, but I can take care of myself," he said with a sheepish grin.

"Why'd ya do it Daddy," I asked with some desperation in my voice? I could even tell it.

"John... why don't you tell us what happened," asked Momma as she sat her fork down?

Daddy situated himself in his chair and started: "Well I'ze just doing my duty ya know. I mean it ain't like I was lookin' for trouble. I was the one called out in the middle of the damned night to break up a bar fight." Daddy said this so matter of fact like that he kinda made me mad.

"Why'd you have to hurt my friends Uncle... why Daddy?"

Momma reached over and put her hand on top of mine, saying: "Jessica, I'm sure Daddy didn't even know the fella was your friend's Uncle. Did you John?"

"Nope," Daddy replied as if the conversation meant nothing to him.

"Well then why'd you have to beat up anybody," I asked hoping to hear some compassion come back.

"Look Jessica... I didn't plan anything or ask for anything. All the doin' was done by the drunks down there at the bar. They started fightin' and the law had to put a stop to it; simple as that."

"Well John, why don't you walk us through what took place so Jessica can understand?" asked Momma just trying to help me out with some of Daddy's stubbornness.

"Now Katherine, I'm not sure the details are fit for a seven year olds ears." I think Daddy was just trying to get out of telling me what really happened.

"Well John, just keep the story clean and to the point. Jessica just wants to know why it happened. She doesn't need to hear a blow by blow account. Right Jessica?" Momma turned to me with a smile.

"That's right Momma."

Daddy decided to come clean... or at least tell his story: "Well I was called out in the middle of the night... down to Zelma's Bar... apparently there was a fight". Daddy was talkin' to me, I think, but he was looking at Johnny, who was sleepin' in his high chair.

I wouldn't exactly say I was on the edge of my seat, but I was sure paying close attention. I felt a little nauseous. I just hoped Melissa's story wasn't true, but was worried Daddy might have actually done what she said. Surely not?

"By the time I got down to the bar the fight had apparently escalated into a knock down brawl. Or deteriorated into a wrastlin' match... couldn't really tell." Daddy laughed a little, I think he was trying to be funny.

Momma and I glanced at each other and Daddy got another beer from the frig.

"Anyway, this one ole' boy in the fight, turns out his name's Tommy somethin' or another. Well he decided to puff all up and take a swing at "Big John". He should a known better than to mess with me... I guess he knows now." Daddy seemed so pleased with himself as he took another swig of beer. I just felt ill.

"John." Even Momma could sense the pride in Daddy's voice. Pride in what he'd done.

"Swung on you?" I really wanted to know what Daddy meant by this; what really happened. Did Melissa's Uncle Tommy start it or did Daddy.

"Hmm?" Daddy looked confused.

"Did he hit you first... before you hit him with your gun?" I was just assuming Melissa was right about the gun thing.

"Yeah honey... he hit me first. But what's this about my gun?"

"Well I heard you hit him with your gun."

"Where'd ya hear that?" Daddy rolled his eyes as he took a long pull from his beer.

"Melissa told me about it." From the way Daddy looked, the gun beatin' seemed to be true.

"Oh I see," said Daddy as he got up from the dinner table and walked over to the kitchen sink. He opened the cabinet over the sink; pulled out a small glass and a bottle of whiskey.

"John... I'm not sure we're done here," said Momma in a polite tone. She sounded more like she was asking a question than telling Daddy not to run off.

"I know Katherine... I know," said Daddy as he poured his glass full. "One sec." Daddy gulped the glass down and then sipped his beer.

As I watched Daddy return the whiskey bottle to the cabinet I found myself feeling very impatient. I had to bite my tongue to stop from saying hurry up!

Daddy, finally, took his seat back at the table. Momma watched him closely and Johnny just kept on sleepin'.

I couldn't help it. I was so impatient at this point that I blurted out: "Well!"

"Jessica, watch your tone when speaking to your Father." It was a fairly firm scolding, and I suppose it was well deserved.

"Yes Momma," I looked at the floor as I said this.

"So do you believe Melissa; that I'd need a gun to take care of that Tommy fella?" Daddy seemed insulted at the thought that he would need a gun; that is more than his fists, I guess.

"Well I don't want to believe you'd hit Melissa's Uncle with your gun." I truly didn't want to believe it, but at this point Daddy wasn't doing much to convince me otherwise.

"Hmm," replied Daddy as he resumed eating his dinner. I think he was trying to make me wait. I don't know why though.

"John, did you hit the guy with your gun? Isn't that called pistol whip?"

"Yes... its called pistol whipped," Daddy mumbled with a full mouth.

"Well did you do it," asked Momma? I was glad she was helpin' me out with the questions now.

Daddy paused a long moment as he finished his meatloaf off. It was as if he was trying to be difficult. You know making us wait and all, and not answering questions easily.

"No." Daddy replied firmly.

"You didn't," I asked?

"I said I didn't and I don't think goin' into greater detail would be appropriate." Daddy's voice was a bit louder now. He looked at Momma.

"I suppose your Daddy's right Jessica." Momma wasn't being too helpful now.

"But Momma..." I guess I kind of whined.

"No now Jessica, your Father answered your question honestly. He said he didn't hit your friend's Uncle with his gun, and that the other guy started the fight."

"Wasn't a fight," Daddy said under his breath. "It was an arrest."

"See Jessica, Daddy was just doin' his job. He had to arrest the fella and the guy was mean and hit your Daddy. He just did his duty. Right John?" Momma really seemed to want this to be the truth.

"That's right," replied Daddy as he got up from the table. He ruffled my hair and walked out the back door; think he headed out to his work shed. He just left us sittin' there at the table. It seemed so rude! I still had questions. I still wanted to know why he beat up Melissa's Uncle Tommy; gun or not.

Daddy's explanation was... well not one at all. His whole demeanor was rude. It was like what I was asking meant nothing to him. Like my concern meant nothing to him. I was very disappointed.

As usual I helped Momma clear the table, and Johnny helped by holding his highchair to the floor as he slept. Momma seemed in OK spirits but I was not. It was all I could do to keep from complaining to Momma about Daddy's crass behavior.

That's another one of my spelling words by the way; c-r-a-s-s... crass. I can't help but notice that the word has ass in it. So someone acting crass is sure an ass! Get it?

Anyways, Momma and I finished up the dishes and I quickly went off to bed. I think Momma could tell I was upset, but I tried not to let on. She kept trying to spark up everyday conversations about how nice the weather had been or little funny things Johnny had been doin' or sayin'; but it didn't help my mood.

Once I was in my bed with the lights out I couldn't help but rerun the whole problem in my head; over and over again. From Melissa shoving me and dropping my book bag in the trash, to seeing her so sad down on the ground with her skinned up hands; it was really causing me pain. Even greater pain was how Daddy just blew off the whole thing. Like it meant nothing to him... I mean really! Doesn't he have a conscience?

After wasting away better than a half hour mulling over the issue I couldn't help but get overly frustrated. I began to cry and cry; harder and harder. I tried to be quiet but was unsuccessful. Eventually Momma must have heard me 'cause she came into my room.

"What's wrong Jessica?" I really think she already knew what was wrong. I mean how could she not?

"Oh Momma...," I just couldn't seem to catch my breath to talk; each time I did try to talk I had to stop and sob.

"Oh honey, just let it out. I know it can be hard being a child these days."

I didn't say it but I thought: Its hard being Daddy's daughter is what it is. Its hard being Chief of Police John Long's daughter in a Barnsdall, OK... that's what it is. At the time I truly believed Daddy... well, threw his weight around too much. I suppose it was none of my business what he did when it didn't impact my life, but this Uncle Tommy beating had cost me a friend. I wonder if Daddy even cared about that. If Daddy even thought, just maybe, he could have handled that situation differently; less violently maybe. I doubted it even crossed his mind. That's really what hurt the most. I doubted Daddy really even cared.

After several minutes of Momma holding me and me crying my head off, she said: "Come on Jessica, just try to relax."

"O... O... Ok Momma," I said as I began to compose myself.

"Good, that's better honey," she stroked my blond hair. "Now why don't you tell me what's really bothering you."

"Well Momma you know what's botherin' me... I want to know why Daddy beat up Melissa's Uncle Tommy... why I had to lose a friend 'cause Daddy had to hurt someone." I was still crying just a little now.

"Oh honey, your Daddy's got a real hard job. He has to keep law and order in town. He hast to go out in the middle of the night, risking his life, to break up bar fights and such. Sometimes he hast to get involved and... well people can get hurt."

I thought to myself: yeah people can get hurt... isn't that an understatement.

"Momma why can't I know why? Why can't Daddy just tell me why he had to do it?"

"Well now Jessica he did. He explained that this Tommy fellow hit him as he tried to arrest him. Isn't that explanation enough?" Momma seemed to be sticking up for Daddy. I suppose that was part of her wifely duties.

"Momma... is getting hit really an excuse to beat Melissa's Uncle Tommy nearly to death?"

"Well now honey we can't really judge your Daddy's actions you know. We weren't there." This seemed to me like the normal "let's just let it go" attitude Momma has with Daddy's bad behavior.

"Well couldn't he have put handcuffs on him or something? Did he have to kick him and beat him so bad?"

You know what? I already knew the answer... and it was a resounding NO! But I really wanted to hear Momma say it; although I doubted she would, or more so could. I don't think she could get herself to address such a problem with Daddy head on. No she seems to always stick her head in the sand.

Now I know I'm talkin' bad about my Momma and that's not good... you know how you're always supposed to honor thy mother and father and such. But it gets real frustrating when Momma can't see what's right in front of her face.

"Jessica... some things you just have to learn to live with." Momma sounded a bit stern now.

"You mean it's OK for Daddy to have done what he did?" I sounded a bit stern myself.

"I didn't say that Jessica, I'm just saying... well... what do you want me to do about it?" Momma sounded down right rude now. My first thought was: what an odd thing to say to your daughter.

"Well Momma, I guess I want you to understand that Daddy's actions cost me a friend. And I suppose I want Daddy to acknowledge that and at least feel a little bad about it." I thought this to be a reasonable desire.

"I don't think your Daddy believes he did anything wrong Jessica. I think he believes he was doing his duty."

"But do you think he really felt like he had to nearly kick the guy almost to death to "do his duty"?" I realized I was pushin' Momma a bit now; makin' her face things she didn't want to face; namely Daddy's bad behavior and her constant covering up of that behavior.

"I suppose he must've honey, or he wouldn't have done what he did. I suppose he must have believed it was appropriate and necessary." Momma sounded more like she was asking me a question than telling me the truth about her opinion.

"Do you believe it was appropriate Momma?"

"Jessica, it's just plain none of my business. I don't get involved in your Daddy's job. He's the one putting his life on the line out there everyday, and if some drunken fella decides to take a swing at him... well I support your Daddy in doin' what ever he feels he hast to do to keep our town safe and more importantly, bring himself home to his family each and every evening. You see my point don't you?" Momma sounded so sincere.

"Yes... yes I do Momma." I have to admit Momma had a real good point there. I mean in her mind it could have been Melissa's Uncle Tommy beatin' up Daddy or the other way around. In her mind it was better that Daddy was doin' the beating than him catchin' the beating. I got her point well. I suppose if there's gonna be evil roamin' around in the world best it not land on Daddy... but rather that the evil land on the other guy. It's kind of a cynical (another one of my old spelling words c-y-n-i-c-a-l; cynical) way of lookin' at things, but Momma had made her point.

With Momma's point being made and understood I felt it best not to push the issue any further. Momma tucked me in and left the room.

As I was drifting off to sleep I remember thinking cynical thoughts myself. I thought about how as I grew older, day by day, I more and more saw my Momma as a cover up artist for Daddy's bad side. I believe they call that an enabler. She just sticks her head in the sand and sees nothing. But I sure do. Nonetheless, I do love my Momma... and... Daddy.
Methamphetamine Lab

As told to me by Jacob Wassom

Why Jacob Wassom even talked to me, I really don't know. Guess he thought I should know how it all went down... being my Daddy was involved.

Jacob's three grades above me and I don't think he's ever even spoken to me before. He was not the bearer of good news. I sometimes think about that. Did he really think I wanted to hear about it? Was he trying to just be mean? Ya know spreading the news no matter who it hurt. Or maybe he thought it important that I be aware. I'm still not certain what his motives were.

"Jessi Long? You Jessi? Yeah I know you... you're Jessi Long." Jacob seemed to talk himself into believing he either knew me already or at least had a purpose in approaching me. His tone was odd; like someone you've known a long time. I didn't respond to him; rather just looked up at him with a look of "yes, what is it you want".

"You hear about what happened?" It was funny how Jacob thought this was enough information for me to understand. He seemed to really think my connection to my Daddy must make me know all about the happenings in Barnsdall.

"That was really somethin' wasn't it?" Jacob continued his line of vague statements. I just tilted my head a little as if to say "come again".

"I mean it's kinda somethin' to have a meth lab just a couple a blocks from the Chief of Police's house huh? Well or trailer or house on wheels or whatever you want to call what ya'll live in. Ha ha!" Jacob seemed to be doing well at carrying on a one way conversation and even laughing at his own lousy jokes. I was beginning to wonder who the elder was here.

At least at this point I began to realize what Jacob Wassom was talking about. I'd heard the explosion... I mean who in town didn't, but it being so close to my home (we'll just call it home OK... not a house on wheels) I was sure not to miss it. Rattled the windows it did. That's what Momma said, see I was at school at the time; even rattled the windows there. Daddy calls it the poor man's cocaine. Or was it Redneck cocaine? Either way, he says it's real dangerous to make.

Anyway, I'd heard the explosion and that it was a meth lab; but little else really. I really had no desire to know the details. I mean why would I? So I didn't bother to ask Daddy about it and he hadn't brought his thoughts about the event to the dinner table yet. Although at the time I was pretty sure he would... eventually. You know, when he got "damn good and ready", as he often says.

"Well Jess..." Apparently Jacob must've felt like he knew me so well now that he could call me by a shortened nickname. Jessica to Jessi; now all the way to just Jess. Gosh this Jacob kid was arrogant! Don't ya think?

"... James Staley lived in that house; well before it blew up anyways. Yeah him and his girlfriend Debbie Forest. If I'm not mistaken they had a little baby with 'em too." It struck me that arrogant Jacob Wassom could wonder if he was mistaken. Surely he's never been wrong. If you can't tell yet... this Jacob fella was rubbin' me the wrong way. Just out of the blue coming up to me and telling me a story about something... well something he didn't know I wanted to hear anyways.

Thinking back, I'm not sure if it was the story being told or the storyteller. I'm not sure it really matters. All I know is I really didn't like Jacob Wassom and to this day I wish he'd never come up to me.

"Yeah a little bambino and a couple of big mean pit bulls and a puppy bull as well. Great combination huh? Pit bulls and babies. Well I guess ole' James Staley's never really been known for his brains anyways. Even if he used to have some... you know... brains; well he's rotted them all away with his constant crank habit. I mean that fella's a down right speed freak; and I ain't talkin' 'bout driven if you catch my drift." I did catch his drift and wished he'd just get along to the end of his little story.

"You know what I heard?" Jacob continued to meander around, rather than getting to the point. "I heard those two mean pit bulls ate a neighbor's cat... yep that's right, didn't just kill it, but ate it up. Folks say there was nothin' left but a few fur balls." I'd actually heard the same story and think its true too. I suppose we're all just lucky those dogs haven't attacked any of the kids in the neighborhood.

"You know what I wonder?" I just glared at Jacob with a bland look. I was trying to convey my lack of caring for what he wondered. It didn't deter him though.

"I been wonderin' why Big John didn't know about this crank house or meth lab or what ever you want to call it... well ya know... earlier, before it literally blew up in his face... I mean down the block from his own trailer house anyways." I was gettin' pretty tired of Jacob's sass at this point. I was just about to give him a piece of my mind when he got back on point and started telling his story.

"Well ole' James had apparently fallen on some bad times. Not that he was ever much for workin'; but apparently he lost his oil field job a while back. Heard he showed up to work drunk one too many times. That's some dangerous work to be doin' all tanked up ya know. Come to think of it, that's probably why he's missin' a few fingers."

"Anyways... I guess James decided to start dealin' some drugs to make ends meet. I really don't know what his girlfriend Debbie thought about it; but she didn't seem to break ties with him 'cause of it. I suppose she didn't care where the money was comin' from as long as it kept comin'. Mouths ta' feed ya know." Jacob sounded like he was implying Debbie was part of the problem in James's life; sounded to me like James was a pretty big problem all to himself.

"Well I guess drug dealin' money didn't suite James well enough. Spose it just wasn't enough to wet his whistle; for what ever reason he decided to cut out the middle man and just make the drugs himself. Now he'd been dealing pot and meth and a dabble of coke and such; but that cocaine's too damn expensive for these parts really. But when he decided to start making his own drugs and sellin' them himself, he decided to really focus in on the meth. Best bang for the buck they say; both in the high and in the money made." As Jacob went into this detail I found myself wondering how he knew so much about the drug trade. Sounded to me like he must be involved in it somehow?

"Hell ever'body in town knew James Staley was cookin' right out of his house. It's not like he's a chemist or anything... so I'ze always afraid to walk by that house, figuring it could blow up at anytime. You know about how meth labs can explode right?" I did hear about that on the news, but really didn't want to talk with Jacob about it, so I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Well they can blow up; sky high really. If someone don't know what they're doin' they can mix the wrong chemical, or too much of this or that and kabooom!" Jacob made a theatrical wave of his hands as he yelled "kabooom" out.

"It's safe to say James is one of those "someone's who don't know what they're doing", 'cause, as you know, he blew himself up; well almost anyways." Jacob seemed to think this was quite funny as he went into a laughing fit for a spell.

"Yeah James was doin' pretty good for himself for a while. Ya know, bringin' in the dough and all. Guess Debbie sure liked the spendin' money. You'd think they would've fixed that house up a bit. Even though they had money, the house still looked like a dump. But James made that big mistake most dealers or cookers make. He began getting' high on his own supply. I mean he wasn't a very stable guy when he was just drinkin', but you throw crank into the mix and he turned into a down right lunatic. He wasn't safe to shoot pool with let alone mix chemicals with. Cookin' meth became a dangerous endeavor for him... hell him and every other person in town really. You know... kabooom!" Jacob again did his theatric hand gestures.

"It was on a Tuesday... an overcast dreary day, but then you know that right? I mean you were in town same as I was. Guess they couldn't call it "Green Country" if it never rained." Jacob was showing some sound logic.

"Well now... I suppose James was like ever'body else; ya know staying inside on a day threatenin' rain. He must have wanted to make good use of his time, or maybe greed was just drivin' him; but anyways, he was cookin' up a storm. And I don't mean brownies Jess! Ha ha ha!" Jacob tickled himself again.

I was fidgeting a bit now, or really just doin' a little tap dance as I listened to Jacob. This wasn't just a lack of patience with Jacob's ramblings... I had to pee real bad. Apparently Jacob noticed my little jig and asked me what was wrong. I just replied "nothin" and put up my index finger as I walked to the girl's bathroom. I spent a long time in there on purpose. I was really hoping Jacob would've given up and left. Nope... he was still waiting when I came out. He continued on as if he hadn't missed a beat.

"He was cookin' batch after batch of meth, of course sampling a pipe full of each batch. Heard he calls this his quality control, but in reality James Staley just likes to get high; simple as that. Well as you can imagine, after five or six batches of his special brew, James was getting' pretty damn well lit up. Mixin' cookin' meth and getting high is... well a bad mixture. It's just askin' for trouble really." All I could think about this comment from Jacob was: "Duh!"

"Ole' James was doin' pretty good for a while, but he started gettin' all high and paranoid and rushing around and such. You know how meth heads act after a while, scratchin' themselves and flying around like a squirrel or somethin'." I didn't know first hand about how a meth head acts, but I'd heard. Something was telling me Jacob did know first hand though.

"James wasn't payin' close enough attention to his cookin'... obviously. Now I don't know if he mixed the wrong chemicals or just added too much of the right chemicals. Probably doesn't matter really. Either way the chemicals started bubbling over. The kitchen, where he was cookin', started to fill with smoke and fumes, even more than normal during cookin' meth. Seems everybody panicked at this point. Debbie apparently ran outside with the baby and the dogs were barking their heads off." I didn't know if I should really believe Jacob. I mean how could he have really known all these details?

"Well James stuck with his work. He tried to stop the chemical reaction. First he turned off the burner; didn't work. Then he moved the pan off the burner; didn't work! Then he had a real dumb idea. He threw some water on the pan. Can you believe it! He actually threw water on the chemical reaction. I mean even a first grader knows not to do that... that it just makes it worse." Now I don't know if a first grader would know that, but Jacob had a good point. Most adults know that, and someone cooking with chemicals certainly should.

"James ain't a smart dude, but he knew better. If he wasn't high he wouldn't have done it. But then again if he wasn't high the chemicals wouldn't a started bubblin' over in the first place. He would a been more careful." I noticed a change in Jacob's face at this point of his story. He started smirking; like something really funny was about to happen. Like he was coming to the punch line of a joke; a joke he really thought was funny.

"Now the chemicals were more than bubblin', they were running over the sides of the pan and the fumes were getting unbearable. James started coughing and his eyes and throat were burnin' somethin' fierce. So he grabbed up the pan and ran into the bathroom and threw the chemicals in the toilet; trying to flush them away. Bad idea!" Jacob was talking with his hands now and raising the theatrics.

"Just about the time James hit the flush handle... BOOOOM! Explosion. He's really lucky it didn't kill him. I'll bet the pain made him wish it did though. See the toilet just disintegrated... well all but these shards of porcelain, or what ever toilets are made of, like razor blades. The shards slammed right into James from head to toe. This along with the blast itself and the chemicals flying back on him left him burned and cut to shreds. He was bleeding all over and dazed. Folks saw him walk out of the house and said he was kind of like a zombie. I suppose he was stunned real bad; that coupled with the drugs in his system and probably shock too, left him really out of it. He just sat on the edge of his front lawn as Debbie stared at him. His clothes were in ribbons and he had those shards stickin' out of his skin ever'where; but luckily they missed his eyes. They said he looked like a giant porcupine, ha ha ha!" Jacob thought this was pretty funny. I thought it was morbid. I mean why would he think I would want to hear such graphic details, or even remotely find someone getting hurt like that funny?

"Well your Daddy... Big John... didn't have to wait for the dispatcher to send out the call. Hell ever'body in town heard the blast. John must've thought it best to get right on over; following the smoke. Apparently he was just rounding the corner off of Second Street, not a half a block from the destroyed house, when the dispatch came across: 'John... you better get on over to the block of Second and Maple... got some calls 'bout an explosion... over'. John must've been thinkin': no shit Sherlock. Based on the sound John heard, we all heard, he must not've been too surprised at the state of the house, but later I think he was pretty surprised when he found out how the explosion happened. Like I said right under his nose... a meth lab right under his nose!" Jacob must have really felt it necessary to keep driving this point home.

"Got it!" I said with contempt.

"What?" Replied Jacob.

Come on! As if Jacob didn't know what I meant.

"I got it Jacob, right under my Daddy's nose... a meth lab... I got it." I had a stark look on my face, trying to mask my anger. But if I was really masking it I wouldn't have said anything at all I suppose.

"Oh... OK," replied Jacob with little caring in his voice.

"Well Big John showed up just in time to see half the town gather round. I mean Barnsdall can be pretty boring and when an explosion like that happens you can bet folks are gonna come a runnin'; and they did. If the explosion hadn't a happened during school hours there'd a been a lot more folks around; little kids and such, that wouldn't a been good. No not good at all really." Again I couldn't help but wonder how Jacob knew all this stuff about the explosion; but he sure seemed to.

"As the folks gathered around, too close for Chief of Police John Long's liking, Big John decided to call in for reinforcements. That is to keep crowd control. He called dispatch to have both of his full-time officers, and his part-timer too, come on over to the house. Barney Fife's is what I call'em. They ain't worth more than dog shit on your shoe if you ask me. But I suppose they can keep crowd control... maybe. Apparently John thought so." Jacob was talking about all these folks, from James to Debbie, from the police officers to my Daddy as if he knew them... knew them well. I don't think he knew any of them though. Gosh Josh is an arrogant jerk!

"Get back... stay back! That's what John yelled at the crowd when he got out of his police cruiser. He sounded pretty mad. He got even madder when it took more than ten minutes for his officers to arrive. Great response time huh? Hell it takes about two minutes to drive all the way across Barnsdall. What in the world took them so long? Oh, I know... they've got a bad case of the laze's. Like I said worthless... that's what those officers are. Anyways, they finally showed up and John was able to take himself off crowd control and really start tending to the scene; crime scene is what it really was."

Now, I have to admit I was kind of interested in Jacob's story. I didn't need all the details before, but now that my Daddy was in the picture I was pretty darn interested in knowing how he handled things. I hoped I wasn't goin' to hear a story similar to the one Melissa told me. I doubted it.

"What Big John saw was... well a real mess!" Jacob looked a little sad as he said this.

"Yeah not only was the side of the house, where the bathroom was, chard and splintered, though not completely blown away; but the front of the house was damaged too, mainly the windows and some charring it looked like. Strange how an explosion happens, you never really know where the damage will be done. James lived through it but it looked like he must've been extra lucky, 'cause the house was in a bad state. I suppose the worst part, besides the chemicals polluting everything, was the water damage. See all the pipes in the bathroom had been busted and water was running everywhere; spewing really." Jacob looked at the floor and shook his head slowly.

"Barnsdall's volunteer Fireman showed up and were beginning to look things over. There really wasn't much to do, besides turn off the water to the house, 'cause there wasn't much of a fire. It was more of an explosion only kinda deal; suppose that's a good thing. Anyways with all the water runnin' out of the house it would a been hard for a fire to catch hold. Although I've seen fire on water before. You ever hear of that? Like gas or somethin' is in the water and that's what's really burnin' but it looks like the water's burnin'... know what I mean?" Jacob was off on another one of his tangents again; funny how he didn't look up from the floor when he asked me this question. I just shook my head in agreement. Don't know if Jacob even saw the gesture though.

"Well John also saw the dogs were runnin' around barkin' and such, the baby was cryin', so was Debbie, well more sobbin' really; and James Staley was just sitting in the grass like a lump of cookie dough... just there... but not all there ya know. He looked real bad." Jacob kept shaking his head and looking at the floor.

"John's no Paramedic or nothin' so he would leave the helpin' to them, but he did notice several of James's injuries. Most obvious were the burns; couldn't miss them. If you were to look at James from the back you might not quickly notice he was hurt at all, but lookin' at him from the front you saw that his clothes were all shredded and burned away and showing through were nasty burns, probably third degree, you could even see the bone of his right shin. Not much meat or skin on your shin, and apparently it just burned right away... burned right away all the way to the bone!" Jacob looked up at me now; right in the eyes. He almost looked scared. It struck me then that maybe Jacob wasn't telling me this story for me, but maybe for him. You know to get it off his chest or something. It seemed to be botherin' him pretty bad; well at least this part of the story anyways.

"As John looked further at James he noticed that the top of one of his shoes was burned clean off and some of the rubber sole seemed to be imbedded in his toes. That's gotta hurt! James's stomach seemed to be OK (except for all the shards of toilet, which were all over him; not just his stomach), but his chest was bright red and had huge blisters all over it. His left hand, the one he was flushing the toilet with, was in shreds and was missing a finger; although I think that finger was already missing from an oil field accident. His right arm looked better, although it still had some burns on it." Jacob clasped his left hand around his right forearm as if indicating where the worst burns were. He looked back at the floor.

"The worst part was yet to come for ole' John though. Oh yeah. As he looked at James's face and head he noticed his left ear was chard nearly completely off. His eye brows, eye lashes and about half the hair on his head was burned away. His lips were swollen and blistered. His eyes were bright red; probably just blood shot from being so high? When John first spoke to James and got no reply he looked at his right ear, which was still fully intact and looked pretty good, and noticed a stream of blood comin' out. Yeah it don't take a rocket scientist or a Paramedic to know the explosion must've burst James's ear drums. He was all but deaf and couldn't hear a thing, well maybe a bunch a ringin' if he was lucky. See if you can't hear nothing that usually means your hearin' is gone for good. If you hear ringing then there's hope some of the hearing will come back... some day. That's just what I've heard... not sure if it's true. Hope so though... for James's sake." It struck me that Jacob must actually know James or something. I mean more than just "know of" him.

"Luckily no one else was hurt, not even the dogs. In fact one of the dogs was standing right behind James when the explosion happened. Guess James shielded it from the blast? Anyways... where was I... oh yeah, John was trying to get James to snap out of it and talk to him or something. It was taking some time, you know since James couldn't hear and he was all in a stupor or shock or somethin'. Well in the meantime the Paramedics showed up and tried to attend to James, but John wouldn't let them... not until he had some answers about what happened. Big John already knew... hell ever'body did. You could smell the chemicals you could see it was a meth lab explosion. Chief of Police John Long knew this; he just didn't want to admit it." At this point I didn't exactly know what Jacob was getting at, but I didn't like what I did get.

"Yeah everybody could tell John was mad... no he was down right pissed. He was so angry he couldn't see straight... embarrassed too. Why? Why you ask? Well he had no idea there was a meth lab operating right under his nose in Barnsdall Oklahoma USA, and he definitely didn't know one was just a block or so from his trailer home. But he should have, he should have known! Hell it's only his job! He was asleep at the wheel and he knew it. Now he'd been outed by this meth lab explosion. Outed as a lazy Chief of Police, that would let something like this go on in our town. He was outed and that made him mad... and he'd be takin' it out on James Staley." I just wanted to pinch Jacob's arrogant little head off for saying such mean things about my Daddy! He had my tongue tied though when he said his last words about my Daddy taking his mad out on that James Staley fella.

"No mad really isn't strong enough a word to describe Big John Long about the whole meth lab situation. Livid is maybe a better word. Your Daddy was livid!" Jacob was staring right at me now. It was as if he was accusing me of doing something. Guilty by association I suppose?

"Well Big John got real testy with the Paramedics as they tried to tend to James. He actually ran them off... told them to get away until he was done gettin' what he needed outa James. Can you believe it? The Chief of Police actin' that way? I mean it was obvious to everybody the James needed medical attention. But John Long sure didn't care. Once the Paramedics returned to their ambulance to wait, Big John snatched James up off the grass and basically carried him over to his police car. Then when everybody thought he was going to put him in the back seat of the car, instead... he slammed him onto the trunk lid and grabbed him by the throat. I tell ya Jess, he began screamin' at the top of his lungs in a deep growl, kinda like an animal or something. He was saying stuff like "who the hell do you think you are" and "not in my town" and "a block from my house" and some other stuff like that. I tell ya it was scary. You've got one mean Daddy... I'll tell you that right now. Everybody thought he was nuts. Then he took his gun out and put it to James's head and yelled "answer me!". That's when a few of the volunteer fireman, the Paramedics and one of the other police officers came over and tried to talk Big John down. I guess they did 'cause he didn't shoot James, but man! It was crazy." Jacob was rolling his eyes now as if to emphasize how crazy the situation was. His words coupled with his rolling eyes made me feel like he was sayin' my Daddy was acting absurd. I'd had it now; I was about to really lay into Jacob when he said...

"Well you know the rest of the story, just thought you'd like to know the truth about your Daddy... he's nuts. Oh yeah, and a crappy Chief of Police! Don't let the apple fall too close to the tree now." And with that little piece of advice Jacob was off like the wind. Steppin' lively he was, and it was a good thing too. If he'd a been just a little bit slower he'd a found my Nike meetin' his backside more than once. Can you believe the nerve of that kid?

Well Jacob was wrong... I didn't know the rest of the story. To tell you the truth, I didn't believe the part of the story Jacob told me either. He just seemed so... so... well... fake! I didn't believe the story he told. I shouldn't have either. Right?
A Piece of John's Mind

As told to me by Miss Jennings... whether I wanted her to or not

"... see your Daddy called a station meeting the day after the meth lab exploded. All the town folk are now calling it "the flush heard round the world", well or at least the town anyways." Miss Jennings got a big chuckle out of that. I'd been listening to her for a good twenty minutes before she finally got around to telling me this little story. She was her normal self; ya know rambling about this and that and laughin' all the while, barely taking a breath between sentences.

"Yeah evidently your Daddy wanted to get a few things straight with his fellow police officers. So he called the whole force in. Not too hard to do really when the "whole force" is just two full-time officers, one part-time officer and a dispatcher. Well them plus that hunky Chief of Police John Long! Ha ha!" I really like Miss Jennings but when she starts telling me how she thinks my Daddy is hunky or a hottie or something, well it's kinda... creepy really.

"Those members of the police force sure do wear a lot of hats. They'd have to, to keep things runnin' with just those few folks. I mean what do they do if someone gets sick? I'll tell you what they do... they fill in on the other guy's (or gal's) job. That's the way it works in small towns. Everybody does a lot. And ya know what? Sometimes when your doin' a lot of things, you get nothin' done. I mean sometimes you're so busy doing little bits of everything that none of what you do is done very well, or finished at all. Maybe that's how the meth lab slipped through the cracks? Could be... could be. But who really knows?" I thought Miss Jennings had a pretty good point there. I didn't bother to answer any of her questions 'cause I was so sure she'd answer them herself... as usual.

"Well I certainly think being so busy with all those jobs played a big part in it. But then again those three police officers are some lazy farts let me tell ya." Miss Jennings went into a ten minute rant about each of the three officers (Moe, Larry and Curly she called them) but I'll spare you the details on that.

By the way the two full-time officer's names are Cecil Smith and Jerry Taylor. The part-timer is Eli Folson and the dispatcher's name is Jenni Bresh. Not to disagree with Miss Jennings, and I didn't 'cause I didn't tell her this, but I've met all these folks and I think they're all real nice. At least to me they were. But I don't know how hard they work I suppose.

"Yes ma'am Jessi, your Daddy wasted no time in gettin' his point across. He called the department meeting for a reason and he aimed to make that real clear. Yeah he gave them a piece of his mind, telling them about work ethic and keepin' your eye on the ball and caring about this town and keepin' folks safe and servin' and stuff like that. I remember this one part real well. I believe John's exact words were: "What the h-e-double hockey sticks do ya'll do around here anyways, do I have to do ever'thing myself? How could you inept suckers miss that meth lab, heck it seems like everyone in town knew about it but you!" That's what he said alright... yep Jessi that's what he said... well except he didn't really say h-e-double hockey sticks, heck or suckers. Instead he chose more colorful words if you know what I mean." Miss Jennings smiled and rubbed my blond hair. She was being quite condescending really. Did she actually think I hadn't heard cuss words before? Especially from Daddy. I bet I know more about Daddy's bad habit of cussin' than Miss Jennings does.

It struck me how Miss Jennings said she remembered this one part real well. Sounded like she must've parked herself right outside the police station and was listening, eavesdropping really, to the whole thing. Not very couth (one of my spelling words I think sounds real cool, c-o-u-t-h; couth) of her, I thought. I could just picture her sittin' on the curb on Main Street outside the tiny little Police Station (one cell, one room and a bathroom), bending her ear to the nth degree to get a good listen. She's quite the mess; that Miss Jennings is. Goodness!

"Yeah Big John was steamin'. It only made it worse when none of his employees spoke up at his question. Guess they thought it was rhetorical? Well they all just sat there lookin' at the floor trying not to make eye contact with John. Probably hoping he'd let them off the hook. He didn't though. He kept pacing back and forth in front of them, about to wear a hole right through the floor." Miss Jennings had gotten up and was, very theatrically I might add, showing me how Daddy was pacing back and forth. She made it look real funny. I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Funny now I know, but at the time I can assure you the three stooges and Jenni didn't find it too awful funny. No they looked scared out of their wits. I suppose anyone would be with that giant of a man leering down at them with a big mean on." Miss Jennings made a real big frown showing Daddy's expression. Based on seein' Daddy mad myself many times, I think she nailed it pretty good.

"John laid into them again, not holding much, if anything back. They probably deserved it really, maybe even worse. That Moe, Larry and Curly are pretty darn lazy. Not good for much 'cept maybe sipping coffee and poundin' down donuts. I guess ole' John thought those three stooges were makin' him look like... look like... well Shemp; and he was havin' none of it. "I ain't just talkin' to myself up here ya'll!" That's what Big John kept saying. Boy he can sound mean when he wants to. I'd hate to have him angry with me like that." Miss Jennings put a frightful look on her face; but still a bit comical.

I have to agree with Miss Jennings. Daddy sure can sound mean when he wants to; or maybe even doesn't want to. It occurred to me that he probably can't help himself. He just looses it sometimes. It also occurred to me that the older I get the less and less I'm afraid of Daddy's fits of anger. I think they just affect me different as I get older. Rather than scaring me like they used to, they just remind me of... well of little Johnny's rare baby fits. Daddy's anger is more like a whiny temper tantrum to me now. Maybe thinkin' of it like that is more of just a coping mechanism? Ya think?

"Well Larry and Curly are just spineless jellyfish really, but Moe... well he's got at least a little backbone. After John spent about ten minutes cussin' and yellin' at everyone, I guess ole' Moe just couldn't take it anymore; had to speak up." By the way, despite what Miss Jennings says, "Moe" has a real name; Jerry.

Jerry Taylor's a big man, though not quite as big as my Daddy. He's been a lawman most of his adult life and I think he really knows what he's doing too. He pretty much keeps quiet and follows orders from my Daddy, although he has the brains to probably be givin' some of those orders too. Think he learned how to follow orders so well when he was in the Marines; word around the campfire is he got a bunch of medals for doin' real good in the war. He strikes me as a real nice guy and real tough guy too. He's probably just a few inches shorter than my Daddy and maybe not quite as muscular, but he's got a large build and my Momma says he kinda looks like Dick Butkus. Who ever that is? All I know is that name always makes me giggle and Momma says "shame on you Jessica!".

"Well Moe made the mistake of blurting out: "Shit John ease up... it ain't like you knew about that meth lab neither." He probably knew he made a mistake the second he closed his mouth. John just glared at him for what seemed like an eternity." Miss Jennings looked real serious now.

"Moe started to squirm in his seat a little bit and the rest of the crew remained firmly set on staring at the floor." Miss Jennings made a mocking gesture of pointing at the floor as she held her head down. She seemed to think that was pretty funny.

"Your Daddy looked like he was a simmerin' pot; like he was just waitin' for the boil to roll over." Now's when Miss Jennings really got into her story (and forgot to leave out the bad words too):

"Well goddamn Jerry, I guess that makes things all better huh? Being that I didn't know there was a meth lab a block from my home!" John was more growling now than yelling.

"John I'ze just trying to say..." Moe was swiftly interrupted.

"Jerry, you're a real piece of work. Think you know it all huh; think it's all explained away by saying, well the boss didn't know so that excuses me from my responsibility. One smart Marine huh? Looks to me like you left the best part of your brains back in boot camp Jerry." Big John wasn't really making much sense at this point, more rambling really.

"John, hell... well none of us knew about that meth lab, that's all I'm sayin'." Moe had a soft tone to his voice but still held to his conviction, not sounding contrite about his initial statement.

"Well you should have Jerry, you should all have," John pointed an accusing finger around the room at each of his employees. They all continued to look at the floor.

"Look at me you worthless pieces of shit! The least you can do is look me in the eye when you tell me you think you've been doin' a "good enough job" by your standards." Everyone looked up slowly and more looked at Chief of Police John Long's nose than providing direct eye contact.

"You think you're doing a good job Eli?" John glared directly at Eli, a portly middle aged fella that reminds everyone of an early (chubby) Billy Bob Thornton.

"I guess not John," Eli sounded as iffy as a chap could.

"You guess not... you guess not... that's the kind of noncommittal attitude that got us in this mess. You either are or you aren't you fat sack of shit! Why don't you just commit to starin' at the floor again. You're damn good at that!" John laughed under his breath; a sarcastic laugh. Eli, or I call him Curly, returned his eyes to the floor in utter submission.

"Just wait a goddamn minute John!" Moe, I mean Jerry, jumped to his feet in disagreement. He didn't jump forward at John, that would have been suicide probably, instead he just popped straight up out of his chair, straddling it.

"Still it took a big pair, excuse my French Jessi, to even do that."

Miss Jennings had jumped up out of her chair to illustrate to me how Jerry had shown his disapproval of Daddy's rants. Miss Jennings couldn't help but seem more like a clown than a big tough former Marine.

"John you're outa line," Moe used a calming but assertive voice. Didn't help much though.

"Oh, am I now Jerry?"

"You bet you are John," Moe looked brave at the moment.

"I draw the lines around here Jerry and if I wanta cross 'em I will, you got that? Ya'll have been lazy and careless. I can think of no other way to put it... lazy pieces of garbage! Now you sit your ass down and hear me out. I want a commitment for improvement or I want your badges." John was pulling no punches; that's for sure.

Moe, I mean Jerry, remained standing in defiance. His face became a bit red and he slowly clasped his fists together. He more seemed to be stunned by John's words than readying himself for a physical confrontation though. However, John took it otherwise.

"Ok Jerry, if that's the way you want it. You want to be able to do a shitty job and then confront your boss about your hurt feelings when you're called out on it. Fine we can have it that way; you can have it just the way you like it. Let's put those balled up fists of yours to work right now." John paused for a moment then walked over and turned the door handle to the front door of the Police Station. "Out back," said John while gritting his teeth.

Now if there's one thing I've learned about my Daddy... it's that he rarely bluffs. So I figure if Miss Jennings was gettin' the story straight; well then Daddy was really gonna fight with Jerry. I didn't like that idea at all. I like Jerry, I didn't want to see him fightin' with my Daddy!

"John... now wait a minute," said Jenni just tryin' to calm the situation.

"Now you just stay out of this Jenni," said John with a sheepish grin. "The men are talking now."

"Jessi, your Daddy can be a male shovenist sometimes," said Miss Jennings with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Now get your happy ass out back Jerry," said John as he jerked open the front door to the police station." I suppose the back door would have been more appropriate to go "out back" but as small as the police station is any door is close to "out back" really.

"Hell John let's just all calm down and work this out," mumbled the one I call Larry... but I think that one's really Cecil.

"Shut up Cecil! Unless you want to come out back too," yelled John very quickly and pointing a mean finger right at Cecil. He did shut up.

"Come on now Jerry... don't make me drag you," said John with an evil little smile.

"Alright John, you win," said Jerry as he slowly sat back down in his chair. "Let's not go there... Ok." Jerry returned his eyes to the floor and looked like a beaten man. Miss Jennings mocked his gesture.

"I suppose it was better to cower than to fight Big John. He surely would have lost that fight, but even if he won he'd a still lost his job probably, so he was really in a no win situation." Miss Jennings said this with disappointment in her voice; almost like she kinda wanted the fight to take place; to see it.

"Now Jessi... your Daddy felt like the big man on campus now. He slowly shut the door and puffed up his chest saying something to the order of: "Alright now that ever'one knows their place we can get somethin' done." He looked like he'd just won a gold medal in the Olympics. He beamed with pride.

Now I don't know how Miss Jennings thinks she could know what my Daddy was thinkin' or feelin' for that matter. But... to be completely honest with myself, I'd have to say she's right. Daddy has a great deal of pride. Too much. Enough for fifty men sometimes. That's what my Momma says. She worries a lot about my Daddy's prideful manners, especially when he's throwing his weight around and feelin' good about it. Just like this instance.

I worry about Daddy too. I worry about what he takes joy in. I mean it seems like he's most happy when he's makin' others feel... well bad... or maybe it's better to say scared. Yeah, scared. That's probably what he gets the most pride out of. He likes to be feared. I suppose that's something to do with the law enforcement thing. He thinks people have to fear the law to obey it? Either way, Momma and I sometimes think he takes it too far. If what Miss Jennings was telling me was the straight facts, then he was takin' it too far with ole' Jerry; nice guy Jerry.

"Now Jessi," Miss Jennings continued on. "Your Daddy went into a long gripe session, gettin' real red faced and pointin' at each of his employees as he listed out their negative traits as officers or employees or... well simply as human beings. He was pretty mean really. Although I suppose they deserved it. I thought he was mean at the beginning of the meeting, but that was nothing compared to what he was doin' at the end. It just seemed like he couldn't find a good trait in any of his employees. He was down right destroying them... if you know what I mean."

I did know what she meant. I'd seen Daddy do it before. He'd never really done it to me, but something told me... eventually... he'd get around to it.

"Let me just tell you all this... I will ensure the safety of folks that live in this town, if ya'll want to keep your jobs you'll do the same!" And with that last statement John stormed out of the station slamming the door behind him.

"I tell ya Jessi it was quite scary," said Miss Jennings as she now looked at the floor, not unlike the beaten down police officers were doin' under my Daddy's wrath.

I patted Miss Jennings on the head like so many adults do me; just trying to sooth her feelings. When I pulled my hand back it was all sticky with hair spray. I won't be doin' that again.
Tick Tick Tick

Time continued to go by and Daddy kept fightin' to keep our town safe. Barnsdall's such a small town you wouldn't think that would be too hard really. But I guess you'd be surprised.

Often at the breakfast, or dinner, table Daddy would complain about those "sons-a-bitches" breakin' the law. His words not mine. That usually elicited a harsh response from Momma. "John! Watch your language please," or something to the sort. Of course Daddy didn't and Momma didn't push the issue... as usual.

This one evening at the dinner table Daddy went into one of his long rants about folks parking in the handicap spots at the post office. You know just to run in for a minute.

"That Joanne Bresher girl... you know she's late twenties or something with about ten kids or so." Daddy was exaggerating. I think?

"Well she's not in the best of shapes really... a bit on the portly side if you know what I mean, but she's anything but handicapped. She surely doesn't have one of them handicap stickers in her car window!" Daddy was talking between heaping forks full of beans.

"Hmm," said Momma simply trying to show Daddy that she was paying attention. I think he appreciates that.

"A couple a days ago I was up to the post office and there was hardly anybody around, being the time a day it was and all. Well I parked in the front spot, you know the one right next to the two handicap spots... which I guess are really the "front spots". Well as I was comin' out of the post office in pulls Joanne right in the handicap spot next to my patrol car. Couldn't believe it! Not only right next to my patrol car, but right in front of me. She got out of her car with a couple letters in her hand and started to waddle up to the front door of the post office." Daddy was rolling his shoulders back and forth as to mimic Joanne's waddling. It was quite funny really.

"John, shame on you," said Momma with a giggle. "You shouldn't make fun of folks." I guess this was true, but it didn't stop Momma from laughing right along with the rest of us; even little Johnny got a big laugh out of it, though I think he was just laughing 'cause the rest of us were.

"As I was saying," Daddy was still laughing a little under his breath. "As I was saying, I was just comin' out of the post office, so I met Joanne before she got to the door. I asked her what she thought she was doin'. She said, and I quote: "mailing some letters John". That's it, just "mailing some letters". Before I could say anything else she had waddled past me and into the post office." Daddy took a swig of beer and paused for a moment.

"That all?" Surely Momma knew Daddy wouldn't just be leaving it at that. He'd make sure law and order were followed. To the letter!

"Hell no that ain't all," replied Daddy abruptly, but with a smile.

"John... language," Momma gave him the big bug eyes.

"Ok... ok Katherine."

"Well I just strolled on over to her car and started writing out a nice hefty ticket for sassy Miss Bresher. Figured she'd pay more attention to that than she did to me trying to talk to her before. She comes struttin' back out of the post office all happy with herself and finds me there liftin' up her windshield wiper to give her a present."

"'What are you doing John?' As if Joanne didn't know. Maybe she didn't but that's no excuse. Right?" Momma and I just shook our heads, though not really in agreement I don't think.

"I just told Joanne that she's parked illegally. Can you believe she asked me what I meant? Can you believe that?" Momma just shrugged her shoulders.

"I mean she's either a liar or she's down right dumb; probably both really. Well I explained to her that she was parked in the handicap spot and such. She begged me for about ten minutes not to ticket her, then she went into this cryin' fit like a baby. I just told her to learn from it and don't do it again. She kept on cryin' as she got in her car and drove off." Daddy put his hands up in the air like he was holding a car's steering wheel.

"Hmm," said Momma again.

"I tell ya Katherine, some people are just so thick... or they just have such total disregard for the law that it drives me up a wall. You know what I mean?" Momma just shook her head again, but again I don't think it was in agreement.

Now I'm not sayin' Joanne didn't deserve a ticket, but I do think it was a pretty little thing to be "driven up a wall" over. Don't you?

Then a couple of evenings later Daddy mentioned, or should I say ranted about, a more serious breach of the law. I think that's what he said: "breach of the LAW!"

"Jessi... umm... Jessica... you'll want to listen to this closely." Daddy paused for a moment to make sure he had my full attention. He did, as well as Momma's. Johnny was busy playing with his food; he had more on him than in him at this point.

"Now ya'll know I usually take it on myself to patrol the morning school zones. That is to make sure none of those soccer moms get too crazy in their mini vans or sport suv's; speeding and such. Seems like they're always in a hurry after they've dropped off little Tommy or Jane or whoever." Daddy's face was already gettin' a little red. This was a quick signal to Momma and I that Daddy was pretty darn serious about the point he was about to make. Serious and upset too!

"John you want a glass of ice water?" Momma asked out of the blue. She was probably just trying to get Daddy to calm down before he got all riled up. I didn't think it would work.

"Ice water," Daddy replied in a strange way, like he was both asking a question and making a statement of fact at the same time. His words were unclear, but the huge swig from his beer and tilt of his head way back said it all. His movement said: "are you kidding me! Ice water, now what would I want with that when I've got BEER! BEER! BEER!!!" Momma left it at that.

"Well I was up there at the school yesterday morning. In fact it was just after you dropped Jessi off Katherine..."

"Jessica," Momma corrected.

"Pardon ma'am... Jessica," replied Daddy sounding like he'd started on the beer extra early this evening. I did notice there was quite the mound of bottles in the trash can already. Funny how glimpsing at that trash can reminded me of my filthy book bag.

"Wasn't long after you dropped Jessica off Katherine, that I saw Tammy Johanson kickin' in the turbo on her new Volvo wagon. Hell I don't know if it was really turbo or not, who knows about these new foreign cars, but she sure acted like it was." Daddy says he's a "straight Detroit man" all the way; what ever that means. All I know is he's always sayin' stuff like "they don't make 'em like they used to" and "this country'd be a whole lot better if ever'body would buy American".

I'll let you in on a little secret. While my Daddy says "buy American", when he really steps out and wants to think he's havin' a real good time... he buys German beer. That's right, he breaks the law too... well his own laws, or at least rules. You know what I mean, he says one thing and then does another. I suppose all parents do. He says things like "do what I say not what I do". I don't really know where I'm going with this, I just thought it was funny how he says buy American but his favorite beer is German. Anyways...

"Yeah Tammy... you know her don't you Katherine? Didn't ya'll used to be friends or somethin'?" Daddy took a big mouthful of potatoes au gratin. I jokingly call them "smells like your toes are rottin'", but I actually think they're pretty good.

"Yeah I know Tammy Stire... well that was her madden name, Stire; until she married Danny Johanson. I suppose we..." Momma didn't get to finish as Daddy continued his story. Momma wouldn't dare take offense at bein' interrupted though... the dutiful little wife.

"Well Tammy dropped off those kids of hers. What's their names again?" Daddy looked at his plate.

"Mommy and I looked at each other as if to say: "was that a question for you or me". It didn't matter as Daddy didn't wait for an answer.

"I was watching her so close because when she pulled into the school driveway she was going one mile per hour over the school zone speed limit... but I let that go." Daddy said this as if he had done her a great favor. I thought wow Daddy it must've taken some effort to let such a gross breach of the law go! One mile per hour over the speed limit? Goodness.

"But as usual when you give folks a break on the law... well pretty soon they're breakin' it even worse. It's the old give 'em an inch and they'll take a mile thing. You know." Daddy shook his head at Momma. Momma nodded her head in agreement. I did too, although Daddy never looked at me. I really did agree too, and I think Momma did as well. Folks really do take as much as they can get most times... don't they? I know it sounds pretty cynical coming from a kid, but I think you'll understand where I'm coming from a little later.

Daddy took a moment to get a stronger drink from the cabinet over the sink as well as retrieve a fresh beer from the frig. Momma didn't look too thrilled at this, as Daddy was already slurring a bit; I couldn't help but notice. But Momma didn't voice any disapproval, not that Daddy would have listened anyways.

"When ole' Tammy pulled back out onto the street, I guess she was thinkin' well I've let my kids off so no danger in speeding now. Well whatever she was thinking she came barrelin' out of the school driveway and nearly spun her tires takin' off so fast. Speed limits fifteen miles per hour in the school zone and she was doin' well over twenty-five by the time she passed me. Once again another person breaking the law right in front of the Barnsdall Chief of Police!" Daddy smacked his beer bottle down on the table real hard spilling a little bit out.

You know what I think was bothering Daddy the most about this little tale and the last one he told about the parking spaces? I think it was that the folks broke the law right in front of him; right in front of the "Barnsdall Chief of Police" Big John Long. Like they should have darn well known better! And well... they really should have. Daddy seemed to take it to heart; to take it very personal when folks broke the law right in front of him. It never seemed to occur to him that maybe they didn't do it on purpose. That maybe they just had other things on their minds and had no intent to show him any lack of respect. But then again in Daddy's world I don't know that what other folks think, or what their true intent is, really matters.

"I took out after her. Hell she was a good block down the road before I finally caught up. She just kept on accelerating. I'm sure she thought she had a good reason. You know something like: late for a hair appointment or left the clothes iron on at the house or it was her time of the month or something."

"John please!" said Momma in her best scolding tone.

"Sorry hon," said Daddy but sounding like he didn't really mean it.

"At least she did the right thing by pulling over right away. I don't take too kindly to folks makin' me chase them down." That reminded me of the story I overheard Mr. Swanson telling 'bout that Josh Walker guy. I'll bet he pulls over "right away" from now on.

"As I approached her car I saw her tap tap tapping her fingers on her steering wheel like she was impatient or somethin'. I asked her for her license and registration and she just started bawling. She kept sayin' something about how she wasn't thinking and how "in trouble" she'd be with her husband if she got another ticket. But hey... I hadn't given her any other tickets so it wasn't my problem right?" Daddy just laughed and continued on.

"Well I wrote her out the ticket and as I was walkin' back to my police cruiser I could have sworn I heard her say: "Asshole!"

"John... language," said Momma slowly.

"What Katherine? That's what she said!"

"Well that's all good and fine John but you don't have to..." Daddy just ignored Momma and carried on.

"I went back to her foreign car and asked her what she said. I wasn't rude or anything, but I wasn't exactly nice either." Something told me Daddy's idea of "wasn't exactly nice" is far more threatening than most people would consider those words.

"Little Miss Tammy Johanson sure changed her tune then, just saying: "Oh nothing Chief, sorry I was speeding". Then she carried on with a few more tears and I just walked off laughing. That Tammy's quite a card don't you think Katherine?"

Momma started to answer Daddy but before she could he was on to the next subject, then he was quickly out the door to his work shed; to work on his Detroit built car.

***

The hot months were the worst. And there are a lot of those months in Northeastern Oklahoma, with all the warm nights for parties and cruising and kids up to no good. Seems like Daddy came to the dinner table with a different story each night:

"... yeah Katherine he was right on main street. Like he owned the world; like no laws impacted him!" Daddy was telling a story about a local boy riding his dirt bike on Main Street.

"Hell not only didn't he have a helmet on, but the bike didn't even have a headlight. What a complete dumbass."

"John, please now... can't we have a nice quiet meal tonight." Momma knew that was not an option, but figured she'd throw out the idea anyways.

"Well Katherine if you can think of a better term to describe what that kid was doin' then I'd be happy to change my vocabulary. But to me dumbass is quite fitting." Daddy laughed and swigged his beer.

"What was his name Daddy?" I asked out of simple curiosity; not to extend Daddy's rant. But Momma sometimes says good intentions pave the way to h-e-double hockey sticks.

"If I remember correctly..." Daddy scratched his forehead, "it was Bobby Herron or somethin' like that. Why you know him?"

"Nope," I replied. I mean I'd heard of Bobby Herron, he's several years older than me; but I sure didn't "know" him.

"How's your steak John," asked Momma as an obvious attempt at changing the subject.

"Fine," replied Daddy with a full mouth.

"It's real good Momma," I replied with a smile.

"ood ooood... goooood!" Johnny chimed in; although he wasn't even eating steak.

"I was just steppin' out of the police station when he came barreling around the corner by the bank on that dirt bike. He came out of the pitch black darkness onto Main Street. You know how those side streets in Barnsdall aren't lit up real good." Momma shook her head. I just listened.

"Well there he went flying up Main Street on that whiny sounding two stroke. Didn't bother stoppin' at the stop sign at the intersection; I mean why bother stopping when you don't even have a taillight right?" Daddy heaved another big fork up to his mouth.

"He kept on ridin' at break neck pace all the way up to the railroad tracks then he locked up his back wheel and slid sideways into the empty lot by the feed store where all those damn kids tend to hang out on summer nights. They were all a hootin' and a hollerin' about how cool and funny Bobby was tearing up Main Street on his dirt bike. Like what "balls" he must have. What a rebel!" Daddy rolled his eyes as he tilted his head back to fill his belly with beer.

"John would you like some more green beans," asked Momma in another desperate attempt to change the subject. She really did seem to want a quiet dinner. She would have to go wanting though.

"Not right now Katherine, thanks," replied Daddy as he reached across the table and spooned himself up a bunch of green beans. Apparently he hadn't even listened to what Momma had said. I mean he heard her, but he wasn't listening. No what I mean? Anyways...

"As I was gettin' in my police cruiser I could see that two cycle oil in the air and smell that distinct smell. I also could hear that Bobby kid revin' his motor and it sounded like he must've been poppin' wheelies or something up there beside the post office. Just made my way up there nice and slow, figuring that kid was too stupid to head out. You know too thick in the head not to push things too far and hang around until the police showed up. I was right." Daddy seemed to relish in this; you know being right and all.

Well Daddy went on and on about how he gave that Bobby kid the what for and how big of a ticket he got and how he followed him home real slow in his police cruiser as Bobby pushed the motorcycle on the side of the road. Then Daddy even went up and told Bobby's parents the what for. Daddy seemed to think what Bobby did was a HUGE infraction of the law, but to me it was just boys being boys. I mean what did Daddy expect, for kids to never cut up? I really think he did expect this; for them to just be seen and not heard, not to speak unless spoken to. Maybe that's how Daddy was raised? I doubt it.

Momma and I ate our dinners and Johnny sat politely listening as Daddy continued on with several more stories along the same line. Stories he thought were really good examples of serious breaches of law, but what I thought were just kids being kids on summer nights. I hoped he never found out some of the things I did when my friends and I decided to cut up a bit.
World's Only Main Street Oil Well!

It was a Thursday morning. A Thursday not unlike any other Thursday in the big town of Barnsdall, OK population thirteen hundred. It was one of those days where Momma just absolutely insisted she take me to school in the car; her and Johnny that is.

I tried to tell Momma that I needed to get to school real early to study with some friends on a spelling test, but she just said that's fine; that she'd get up extra early then and take me in. To be honest I didn't need to go in early I was just tryin' to get out of riding with Momma. I just wanted to walk that's all. So now I was gonna end up getting up early and still be driven in. It was already not the best day for me.

Johnny was his normal chipper self; I really think he must be a morning person. Although, like I've mentioned, he's rarely ever not happy. He's the best little brother I tell ya. Momma started with biscuits and just kept on goin' from there with her normal great breakfast. Daddy was quickly off to work with just a couple of biscuits.

While I didn't really want to ride into to school with Momma, just wanted to make my own way really, I'm a big girl ya know; it was good to have some quiet time with Momma and Johnny though. I mean no long drawn out negative stories about law breakers and the state of "kids today" and such. I'm not sayin' I don't appreciate how hard Daddy works, but sometimes all that stress and complaining can wear pretty darn thin; real thin.

Momma and I, and Johnny, sat at the table and had a nice relaxing breakfast meal. As usual everything tasted perfect and there was way more than we could eat, being that Daddy skipped breakfast with just two or three biscuits in his hand as he hurried out the back door. That's a pretty rare occasion really, Daddy skippin' breakfast. Maybe he was gonna congregate down at the coffee shop with all those old guys that sit down there and talk about the weather and stuff? Either way we had a lot of food.

I stuffed myself to the gills and so did Momma and Johnny. I more felt like a long nap after breakfast than going to school. It probably didn't help that I'd gotten up so early for no real reason huh? But Johnny helped keep me awake with his lively behavior and boisterous attitude. He's quite the little giggle-pot.

Momma and I went ahead and cleaned up all the dishes side by side. It was nice just spendin' time; we didn't even really talk much. No instead we just enjoyed each others company. By the time we'd gotten around to cleaning Johnny's little face off I was actually glad Momma was drivin' me into school.

Funny how Momma can do that. She kinda forces me to go along with her by insisting she drive me into school, but then she's so pleasant to be around I'm glad she did in the end. I suppose I just love my Momma. Who doesn't I guess? Something told me though that I had a real special Momma. That she was extra nice, extra pretty and an extra special cook. I wondered if Daddy thought she was an extra special wife? I think Momma sure is.

As we were walking to the car (I was carrying Johnny) I noticed how nice of a day it was. Clear and clean, it must have rained just a little bit last night. You know how just a little bit of rain in the night can clean the air for the morning. Leaves a real fresh smell in the air; I tend to notice things like that. Momma sometimes says it's the little things like that that makes the world go round; the spice of life. Anyway I noticed it.

We were all in a good mood and I was getting over being tired from gettin' up so early. We were still on time to get to school extra early so I couldn't help but notice that nobody was out walking or riding bikes or even driving towards school yet. It was pretty much just the three of us slowly, very relaxed, making our way up Maple Street towards Main. No hurry at all.

When we turned onto Main Street I was a little surprised to see only one other car besides us. Seemed everyone was still snug in their beds, or more likely just still eating breakfast or takin' a bath or something.

As we crossed the railroad tracks on Main Street, down by the post office and the feed store, I noticed a car parked up by the Main Street oil well. At first I didn't think much about it, but as we crept closer and closer it became clear something terrible was going on.

When I first saw it I didn't really believe it. I looked over at Momma and noticed how her eyes seemed to get larger and larger the closer we got to the oil well. I could tell by the look on her face that it was real whether I wanted to believe it or not. Momma seemed struck by the sight; fixed on the scene.

We were right up by the oil well before Momma sort of snapped out of it and reached over and covered my eyes and I felt the car jerk to the left onto 8th Street and away from the... from the awful thing.

It was too late though... I'd seen the whole thing. I'd seen why that car was stopped next to the oil well and some fella was standing beside his car with a look of terror on his face. What I saw sticks with me to this day and I think will probably be with me the rest of my life.

Strapped to the fence surrounding the oil well was a boy; or teenager really. I was later to find out it was Dale Shaw, a seventeen year old high school drop out from town. Isn't it strange how some of our best memories tend to get hazy at times, but we can remember every tiny detail of the bad things we experience... like it was yesterday even when years have gone by? Well I can remember every detail... and I wish I couldn't.

Dale's wrists were tide to either side of the fence opening him up across his wing span kind of like a crucifixion. His body was limp and his legs were kind of tucked under like he was almost resting on his knees, although it looked like his knees were just barely scraping the ground; maybe a half an inch off the ground. He almost looked like he was sleeping there.

As we got closer and closer I noticed a huge pool of blood that had run down the hill under his knees and was continuing to make its way down Main Street. Somebody later said that's how they knew he was freshly killed; 'cause the blood had not congealed or something.

Dale looked almost peaceful there. Except on closer inspection you could see, as his head was leaning forward, where the blood was comin' from. The back of his head was all smashed in. The blood must've been running down his back and then under his knees down the hill in front of him; down the hill and just continuing right on down Main Street for everyone to see as they passed by on the way to school. It was quite awful. Apparently he was hit real hard and killed. A kid from school said his Daddy called it "bludgeoned to death"; beaten with a blunt object about the head until he was dead. What ever you want to call it, it was gross and scary. What a terrible way to die. I didn't know Dale at all, but I sure felt sorry for him. Seeing him strapped up on that fence with his head smashed in made me feel such sorrow for him I can't hardly explain it.

"It's ok Jessica... it's ok... it was nothing at all... you didn't see anything right, no of course you didn't... it's ok." Momma sounded like she was more trying to convince herself that I didn't see the horrible scene than to convince me everything was really "ok". I appreciated her caring but unfortunately she was a bit too late with the hand over eyes thing... I saw everything. Yes I saw everything and in great detail.

"What was it Momma, I didn't get to see." I thought it best to play along with Momma's desire for me to have not seen. I didn't want to upset her any more than she already was. And believe me, by the tone of her voice, she was very upset. I wondered how something like that would affect a child Johnny's age, but when I turned 'round to look at him I noticed he was asleep in his car seat; good for him.

"You didn't see." Momma wasn't asking she was telling.

"No Momma, I didn't see; what was it?" I knew this was a lie, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. Sometimes wrong can be right?

"Nothing honey... umm... ah... nothing." We were nearly to the school before Momma took her hand off of my eyes. The quick transition from dark to light hurt a little; I remember that clearly.

I also remember how Momma seemed so flustered. She stopped in front of the school like she was going to drop me off, but when I reached to undo my seat belt she said no Jessica and then just drove off. We took the long way around town, as far from the oil well as Momma could possibly get, and went back home.

Momma told me to go to my room and to take Johnny. I could hear her on the phone calling the dispatcher asking where Daddy was. I don't know what the dispatcher said, but Momma seemed calmed by it a bit, just saying: "Ok... ok well then have him come by when he's all done then, I brought Jessica back home for the day; thanks Jenni". Momma then went into the kitchen and just sat at the table for a long while. I sorta think the event had a worse impact on her than it did me; well maybe.

Later I was to find out that Dale Shaw was quite the trouble maker, often speeding around town in his beat up Camaro, drinking and getting into fights and such. At least that was his reputation; like I said, I didn't know him.

Funny thing, a reputation. Some folks want one and others want to protect one. They either want to have a reputation as being tough or smart or cool or something like that. Or they want to protect their good name and reputation by defending their honor or something. It all seems very strange to me. You know how people care so much about what other folks think. I mean I guess I do as well, but probably to a lesser degree than most folks. It just all seems like a waste of time.

I often think about what my reputation was before all this happened; I mean before all these things occurred. I bet I was thought of as a smart little girl with a bright future. Now I wonder what my reputation is. I wonder but I don't answer the question. Maybe I just don't want to know... that's something I will face later. As Daddy says: "when I'm damn good and ready!"

Well I guess Dale nearly hit a bunch of kids in the crosswalk last week. That's what people are sayin' anyways. I mean sometimes I don't know what to believe anymore. Seems kinda awful to be saying anything bad about someone who got killed like that... or any way for that matter.

Murdered is what Dale Shaw was. In cold blood... murdered. What else could ya call being hit about the head like that and then hung up on the oil well fence for everybody to see? Yep it was "first degree murder", that's what Daddy called it.

And God spoke all these words, saying: "I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.

  1. You shall have no other gods before me.

  2. You shall not make for yourself any carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; you shall not bow down to them nor serve them. For I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and fourth generations of those who hate me, but showing mercy to thousands, to those who love Me and keep My commandments.

  3. You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes His name in vain.

  4. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord your God. In it you shall do no work: you, nor your son, nor your daughter, nor your manservant, nor your maidservant, nor your cattle, nor your stranger who is within your gates. For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and hallowed it.

  5. Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God is giving you.

  6. You shall not murder.

  7. You shall not commit adultery.

  8. You shall not steal.

  9. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

  10. You shall not covet your neighbor's house; you shall not covet your neighbor's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his donkey, nor anything that is your neighbor's."

"... shall not murder... shall not murder... shall not murder," Momma repeated. We spent most of my impromptu day off from school reading and reciting the Ten Commandments. Of course focusing in on the not murdering part. I understood why we did it, but looking back now I feel it was a fruitless attempt at making sense of right and wrong.

My bestest friend Heather told me, a couple of days later, that she overheard some older guy down at the coffee shop saying something about how that Dale Shaw was a bad apple. I guess this guy was talkin' about this and that, about how Dale did this and Dale did that and how he was always gettin' into to trouble or stirrin' things up and such. Again it just seemed wrong to be talking about someone that just died; and died so terribly.

Heather seemed to agree with the coffee shop guy. I didn't understand that but I didn't argue with her. I really just didn't have it in me to get that involved. I mean I think if Heather would have seen what I saw down at the Main Street oil well I think she may have felt differently. Come to think of it I guess she may have; turns out a lot of folks saw Dale Shaw crucified on that fence. Yeah a lot of kids and parents saw him on their trip to school that day.

When Heather quoted the coffee shop guy with: "The town's better off without him!" I just felt awful. She was in pretty much agreement with that statement. Whether or not Barnsdall was better off with or without Dale Shaw was irrelevant to me. I mean... really... no matter what he did... goodness what a way to go.

Sometimes, late at night, I can't help but dwell on the whole incident. Of course I dream about it, but it's more than that. Even when I'm awake and I tell myself I should stop thinkin' about it; well I just can't... I just can't bring myself to stop. I lay there and look at the ceiling in the dark, with only the light from the corner of my eyes creeping in from the hall, and I rehash that terrible scene over and over again. It's quite awful really.

Each time I go over the events of that day in my mind it seems I come up with new details. I'm not sure if the new details are memory or things my mind are making up simply because of how shocking the whole thing was. It was so traumatic and stressful; although at the time it seemed neither. Rather at the time it seemed almost interesting. It was only later, when I had the time to reflect on what Dale must have gone through and how scared he must've been, that I fully grasped what had happened and how it impacted me. That is negatively impacted me.

Daddy says he has some military friends from the war that seemed to take battle just fine only to, years later, wind up a basket case of nerves. He says it was as if in the heat of the moment they had all the courage in the world to fight with honor, but after time went by and they had the time to really think things through, well they regretted it. Or maybe a better way to put it was they were scared of what they had done or seen; or even worse what they hadn't done. It was as if their memories haunted them and grew with time. As if the memories grew into more than the events themselves; like they had a demon all to their own. Daddy says it's really sad to watch a buddy do the downhill slide like that; you know in their mind. He says no one can pull them out of that freefall except themselves.

I really think I now understand what those war veterans meant when they said: "War is hell!" I didn't experience war, but I experience something that I found to be almost as traumatic; death. No, more than death; murder! Murder in cold blood. Murdering someone is one thing, but hanging them up crucifixion style on the Main Street oil well fence is something quite different. It took a sick person to do that. We had a sick person lurking about our little town in Northeastern Oklahoma; a cold blooded murderer.

***

When I returned to school I listened to all the kids talking about what had happened. What I found to be really strange was that, I think, the only kids talking were the one's who hadn't actually seen Dale Shaw hangin' on that fence. The kids that saw him, like I did, didn't seem to speak about it. Maybe they thought they shouldn't, like it would be in poor taste, or maybe... just maybe... they couldn't. Couldn't bring themselves to repeat such a horrible thing? But something told me, late at night in their beds, they were rehashing what they saw over and over again; just like me.

I can't really remember everything that was said about Dale; maybe I've blocked it out, kind of a way of not having to face it all. But there are several things that do stick in my mind, like:

I walked up on a group of kids and they were talkin' about how Dale Shaw deserved what he got. I remember they went into great detail about what he looked like hanging from the oil well. Of course they got most of the facts wrong as none of them actually saw him there. Dale wasn't actually hanging from the oil well; he was hanging from the fence that surrounds the oil well. But real facts didn't stop them from spewing out their thoughts. Basically their story was that Dale Shaw was hanging by the neck (from a rope) on the back end of the oil well, and that every time the oil well went up and down he would scrape the ground and then be lifted up to hang.

How wrong could they be? Hell that oil well was more of a landmark than a real oil well anymore. I'll bet that thing hasn't moved in over ten years. Pardon my French, but how wrong could they be!

But they didn't stop there... oh no. They had to find a reason for what happened to; although no one really knew what happened yet... and that included my Daddy. The group of kids discussed and discussed, argued some as well, but seemed to come down to one idea for why Dale had been hung from the oil well. That reason was so absurd it really made me understand that saying about how "a human is smart but humans are stupid", you know meaning a person is smart, but you put several of them together and all reason and common sense goes out the window; sort of like mob mentality. Daddy really agrees with that.

Anyways, the kids decided Dale Shaw was hung from the oil well because... get this!... because he was poaching deer. Doesn't that sound like a good reason to hang someone from an oil well? Well maybe to some folks it actually might, but surely not to most. But then again is there any good reason to hang anyone from an oil well? It all started to bother me when I almost started thinking he was even hung from the oil well at all. They repeated the miss information so much I almost started to believe he was hanging from the oil well, instead of the fence. I could just see him teeter-tottering back and forth, up and down, scraping the ground and such. I have to admit to visualize that scenario was even worse than the reality of what I saw. It was... well... more sensational than what really happened. I wondered if some of the kids in that group would grow up to be journalists. They certainly already had a way of sensationalizing things down. Now all they needed was a bachelor's degree and a smug attitude. But what do I know about it? Just what Daddy says at the dinner table, that's all.

Goodness, even the teachers were talkin' about the incident. Of course they brought in all these counselors to help us with our feelings about the event. I suppose that was a good thing, but it also just seemed to prolong the shock of the whole thing.

At least the teachers seemed to get their facts straight; or should I say straighter? As a matter of fact, if I remember correctly, the teachers didn't actually talk that much about the actual site of Dale. I mean they didn't talk much about what everybody saw that day. Instead they focused on words and phrases like: terrible tragedy, we're safe, it'll be ok, healing, it's ok to cry, it's ok to be scared, do you have nightmares?, are you upset, can we help you, do you feel anxious about what happened, do you think you can move past this? You know stuff like that.

Now I know the teachers and counselors were just doing their part... doing their jobs... to help us kids move past the incident, but I really just felt like they were blowin' smoke. Maybe it's because I figured most of them hadn't seen what I saw, although I'm sure several did 'cause I hear a lot of people actually saw Dale hangin' there, or it was just their almost robotic way of approaching the situation; but I just didn't find them believable. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure they didn't want that bad thing to happen to Dale Shaw, or to anyone for that matter. And I'm also sure they wanted us kids to move past the event without too much mental damage, but it just seemed to me like they were going through the motions. Seemed to me like the teachers and counselors had received some "word from the top" or mandate or something that said: you guys go out there and calm everybody down, whether they want to or not.

If I had to sum up what I heard at school about the Dale Shaw world's only Main Street oil well incident, it would have to be: half truths and conjecture. Conjecture c-o-n-j-e-c-t-u-r-e, conjecture... another one of my recent spelling words brought to life right before my eyes... and especially ears.
Coming To Terms

As I heard the Mayor Joe Tolson told his wife Betsy

"Betsy... I tell ya... somethin' like this can have a bad impact on a town." Mayor Tolson wasn't being overly dramatic. He knew from experience what something like the "World's Only Main Street Oil Well Crucifixion", as it came to be known (thanks to the Pawhuska newspaper's headline), could do to a small town.

Joe Tolson knew how something like that could... well... could put the fear of God into folks. It also, in the blink of an eye, took away our most well known landmark. No longer would Barnsdall be the town that has the world's only Main Street oil well, but instead it would now be the Main Street oil well where that kid was crucified. That's what our great landmark would now be.

No more would folks drive through Barnsdall and take a picture by the oil well... well not for the same reasons anyways. Now strange people with morbid fantasies and gothic ways would congregate around the oil well, on their way through town, in a ritualistic... sick sort of way. This incensed Mayor Tolson.

"Can Joe? It already has. Have you heard what folks are saying?" Betsy knew first hand what was going on; being said in town. She hoped her husband could put a stop to it... meaning heal the town quickly and get past this. She was probably asking too much.

"Yes dear, I've heard what folks are saying. I try to tell them that time heals all wounds, but they know something like this takes more than words and time to fix. We need to catch who did it... and quick!" Mayor Tolson, being the politician that he is, usually feels very good about deflecting responsibility from himself to another... in this case to law enforcement. If they would just hurry up and find the killer then everything would be fine. Everything would be back to normal and Barnsdall could go back to being just another small town in rural America; instead of the spot of a Main Street oil well crucifixion.

"Do you think they'll catch the person that did this soon?" Betsy sounded pessimistic.

"Betsy... I have my doubts that they'll catch him at all." Mayor Tolson made no bones about assuming it was a man that committed the act. Surely a woman wouldn't or couldn't have done this horrible thing? He's a bit of a male shovenist pig really, but in this case he was probably right?

"What are we going to do about all this media coverage and how it's negatively impacting our town?" Betsy knew this would push her husband's buttons a little, but asked anyway.

"We... what do you mean we Betsy," Joe sounded a little testy.

"Ok Joe, then what are you going to do about it?" Betsy didn't even bother to tone down her sarcasm.

"It's just moderate at this point; it's not too far out of hand. Only the small towns 'round here and a little Tulsa coverage. It'll pass." Joe sounded very sure of himself.

"Moderate! Joe please."

"Moderate... that's right Betsy, believe me it could be a lot worse."

"Well I can't imagine it getting much worse than it..." Joe interrupted his wife of nearly thirty years.

"What I'm more concerned about than the media coverage is how people seem not to trust each other anymore; like everybody's a suspected murderer." Mayor Tolson was quite artful at changing the subject. Betsy didn't really even notice that once again Joe had shifted her "moderate" attack on him to other things. He made such a smooth transition; a skilled political mind.

"I know what you mean Joe, I've seen that too." Betsy was now in agreement with Joe, instead of ridiculing him. This made Joe Tolson happy... you know manipulating people that away.

"It's a terrible thing Betsy... just terrible," Mayor Tolson feigned concern while he was really more annoyed with the "proletariats", as he calls them, than concerned about the town folk.

"It sure is Joe," Betsy consoled Joe with a hand on his shoulder.

Joe tried to move off the subject, but Betsy was too involved herself in the whole Main Street oil well crucifixion thing to stop talking now.

"So how are you going to resolve all this Joe?" Betsy said in a soft voice.

"All this?" Joe was really just stalling while he thought up a good politically appropriate answer for his wife. Mayor Tolson rarely switches off from what he believes is his life's calling, or at least a means to an end; politics.

"You know Joe, how people are scared, how they don't trust their neighbors. How Janie down the street is dead sure her neighbor Bob Anderson is the killer. She's done burned a bridge with him blabbing that opinion all over town. I think she's just crazy, but some others believe her for some reason. It's started to get hard on Bob and that's just wr..." Joe interrupted his wife again.

"Now Betsy... just calm down sweetheart," Joe now took his turn to put a hand to a shoulder; he even went a step further and gave her a long hug. "It'll be alright hon, it'll be alright. Once Police Chief John Long does his job and catches the guy that did this, things will calm down a whole bunch."

"Or guys," said Betsy with sadness in her voice.

"Guys?" Joe pretended not to understand but he really did.

"We have to think there could have been more than one murderer," replied Betsy as she slowly pulled back from Joe's hug.

"We do?"

"I think so."

"No we don't," said Joe sternly.

"Well my understanding of what happened kinda shows the possibility that it could have taken more than one person to... well to kill that boy and hang him up like that. I mean I thi..." Mayor Tolson interrupted.

"Betsy let's not borrow trouble now, we don't know there was more than one person. I don't think conspiracy theories are helpful at this point." Joe said this very softly as if he were a parent reading a bed time story to a child. He noticed it calmed Betsy.

"You're probably right Joe," replied Betsy, bending to her husband's will. Or maybe it was just common sense.

"Ok then," said Joe as he moved onto other subjects.

***

It was only a couple of days later when Betsy came back to her husband with more concerns:

"Joe, I was down to the coffee shop this mornin' and I don't think things are calmin' down a'tall," Betsy had stress in her voice as well as wearing it on her face. When she was calm she nearly always worked to cover up her southern accent, but when Betsy was stressed it always seemed to come out very thick.

"What's that Betsy," Joe tried to act very matter of fact about her concerns but inside he was churning.

"Brad... you know Brad Barber right? Of course you do you're the Mayor you know everybody don't you. Anyway you know Brad Barber don't you?" Betsy Tolson seemed a little hyper, probably overstressed about recent events.

"Yeah Betsy... I know Brad. He tends to put his nose into everything in town. He also tends to stretch facts a bit if I remember correctly." Mayor Tolson was already trying to diminish what his wife had heard at the coffee shop by cutting down what most people in town would refer to as an honest man; Brad Barber.

"Well Brad was telling me about how Dale Shaw was hanging from the oil well naked, and how there was a star cut into his chest; said his throat was cut and... oh my God Joe... his ears were cut off! Can you believe someone would do that?" Betsy sounded very upset.

"No I can't Betsy," Joe had a pessimistic look on his face.

"What... ah... what do you mean 'no I can't'?"

"Just what I said honey, no I can't. No I can't believe his ears were cut off because they weren't. Nor was he hanging from the oil well or naked. I guess I don't really know for sure if there was a star cut into his chest 'cause he had a shirt on, but surely not. I mean the Osage County Coroner would have mentioned something like that I'm sure." Joe said this calmly, trying to bring some sanity to the blown up story his wife had heard. Joe thought, goodness wasn't what really happened bad enough!

"But Brad said..." Joe interrupted.

"Betsy..."

"But Brad..." Joe interrupted again.

"Betsy; Betsy please now." While Joe was speaking softly he also sounded a bit condescending in his tone.

"But Brad... well Ok what then Joe?" Betsy let Joe have the floor, but she thought to herself how Joe always seems to have the floor, or the politician's podium; or better termed "soap box".

"Betsy... did you see the incident? Did you see Dale Shaw up there at the oil well?" Betsy knew Joe already knew the answer to this question. She felt like she was in for one of those "lessons" her husband likes to teach.

"Joe you know I didn't..." Joe interrupted.

"Did you see Dale Shaw up there at the oil well?" Joe repeated this time with a bit more force in his voice.

"No Joe... no I did not," replied Betsy meekly; almost sounding embarrassed.

"Ok then... well I doubt Brad did either..." Betsy took a turn at interrupting.

"But Brad said..." Betsy tried to talk but Joe started to speak over her.

"What I was saying was, I doubt Brad Barber did either because he's got it all wrong. See Betsy I did see Dale Shaw up there at the oil well. I saw how he was hanging from the fence and how he was fully clothed. He had a good pair of ears and no cut throat either. Think about it Betsy; why would folks be calling it a crucifixion if he was hanging from the neck? They're calling it crucifixion because of the way he was hung from the fence by his wrists and dangling down in a pose like a... well like a crucifixion... duh!" Joe sounded very condescending now.

"Well goodness Joe, you don't have to be rude," Betsy felt her face getting a little flush.

"Oh I'm not trying to be honey, it's just that all these rumors and blown up stories about what really happened do seem to be wearing on me. It would be helpful if you wouldn't feed into them by repeating these stories. I mean Brad Barber... Brad Barber! How could anyone believe that man?"

"Well Joe, I guess I'm just gullible," Betsy was feeling sorry for herself.

"Oh hon, you know what I mean. Don't you?" Joe's voice sounded tired and worn down, like he was looking for some sympathy; but really inside he was angry. As a politician he has learned to mask this emotion well.

"Yeah Joe, I know what you mean," Betsy said calmly.

"Good, well then can we just drop the subject?" Joe started to turn away from his wife.

"Well what about this then?" Betsy wasn't ready to "drop the subject" just yet.

"You know Harvey Alexander don't you?"

"Yes Betsy... yes I know Harvey Alexander," Joe sounded completely put out when he answered his wife's question.

"Now Harvey was tellin' me 'bout how long it took the authorities to get up there and close of the crime scene; said by the time the Chief and ambulance folk and such got up there to close off the scene, there were people roamin' through it, messin' ever'thing up and so many kids had seen Dale Shaw all hangin' there like he was... it was a... well a damn shame." Betsy Tolson put her hand over her mouth just after she cussed; like she was ashamed of herself. She seemed flustered because her tone was very high pitched and her thick southern accent was shining through.

"Hmm, is that right? That's what you heard? That's what Harvey Alexander told you?" Joe didn't sound like he didn't believe his wife; no, more just that he didn't want to talk about it.

"Yes Joe, that's what he said. Now you trust Harvey don't you? I mean you may not trust Brad, but surely you trust Harvey!"

"Yeah hon... yeah I trust ole' Harvey. We go way back and he's a good ole' boy." Joe truly did trust Harvey; trusted and liked Harvey.

"Well then, is what he said true?" Betsy's high pitched tone had not dissipated.

"Now don't get me wrong Betsy... I trust Harvey and all, but he may have his timing off or his facts a little mixed up." Joe was lying through his teeth for no apparent good reason. It's not even certain that he knew why he was lying; he just was. Joe had learned to lie so well he could even lie to himself; a true politician at heart.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said Betsy... that he got his facts askew." Joe had that confident tone in his voice.

"You mean a lot of people didn't see that terrible thing?" Betsy sounded confused.

"That's right Betsy, hardly anybody saw the actual crime scene; they just heard about it. And you know how people can grow a tall tale." Mayor Tolson knew darn good and well that a lot, more than a lot really, of folks saw Dale Shaw up there at the oil well, but he wouldn't acknowledge it. Not in his town. Not while he was Mayor.

"Oh... ok," Betsy seemed to come to terms with Joe's words as facts. "Then you mean there weren't a bunch of people roaming through the crime scene messin' it up and all? That Chief of Police John Long wasn't slow to the scene to keep ever'body out?"

"Well now Betsy... I'm not gonna praise John Long for his speed, but there weren't too many people roaming around up there and nothing got messed up. Don't you worry, the crime scene wasn't messed up. They'll be plenty of good evidence to find the killer and bring them to justice. We just have to push that lazy John Long hard to get busy and catch who ever did this." Joe was again working hard to shift blame onto law enforcement. It didn't matter that Mayor Tolson was clearly contradicting some of the things he'd told his wife earlier; he was just that convincing of a politician.

"Oh .. well then why..." Joe interrupted.

"I know what you're wondering Betsy. You're wondering why people would be saying they saw such a terrible thing if they really didn't." It was quite presumptuous of Joe Tolson to assume he knew what his wife was thinking... but he was right.

"Yeah," Betsy replied softly.

"Am I right?" Joe asked confidentially.

"Yes Joe, that's exactly what I'm wondering," Betsy sounded impressed at his intuitiveness.

"Well Betsy, let's just chalk it up to human nature. I mean people want to feel important. They want to feel like they have some good information to share. Most importantly they want to let other people know that they are... well "in the know". You know what I mean?" Joe had placed a hand on his wife's back.

"Yes... yes I do," and indeed Betsy did understand her husband's point. He had a good point, she thought.

"Well that's really all it is. People reciting a story and growing it each time they repeat it; just so they can feel involved and important. Nothing more than that."

"Oh... ok," Betsy replied softly.

And with that the conversation ended. Even Joe was surprised at how easily his wife let go of the subject with just a few helpful lies.

Truth be told, Mayor Joe Tolson knew the response time to the scene was embarrassing; that many, many folks saw it, and worst of all the crime scene had been hoofed through by so many idiots that no good evidence would probably be retrievable. Joe was angry about this, but very happy with his political ability to get away with lies to his wife. He enjoys getting away with lies.

Later that night, just before he fell asleep, Joe pondered hard on whom really did commit that terrible murder. It worried him, but not nearly as much as his worries about how long his lies will hold off folks if John Long doesn't hurry up and catch that killer!
Daddy, What Do You Think?

I went out to Daddy's work shed to ask him what he thought about the terrible murder. He hadn't talked much about it, which surprised me, so I really had no idea what he was doing about it. Was he hot on the trail? Did he have someone in mind? Why's he out there workin' on that old junk car instead of lookin' for the murder anyway? I was determined to get some answers.

As I approached the work shed I noticed he had the door closed, but underneath the door I could see little flecks of light going on and off. I figured he must be welding on somethin'; I'd seen him do it before and I know not to look directly at the welding flame. Daddy taught me that.

As I got even closer to the door I could hear that tell tale sound of the welding torch. It's kind of like a whooshing sound of hot air turning to flame, if you know what I mean. I knocked pretty hard figuring it might be hard for Daddy to hear me over the welding; along with his old folks rockin' roll he had on the radio. He listens to this band called Leonard's skin something or other. He says it's real southern rock! Its ok I guess, but probably better for old folks.

I got no answer with the first knock so I knocked again even harder. Still no answer, so I turned the door knob. Well I tried to anyways; see the door was locked. I thought that strange, Daddy didn't usually lock his shed door. I mean he often closed it, but I really can't remember another time when he actually locked it.

I banged harder and started yelling "Daddy! Daddy! you in there?" This, finally, got an answer. I heard Daddy put down his torch with a clank, then I heard his big footsteps approach the door. I shouted out "Daddy! you in there?" one more time for good measure. I heard the click as he unlocked the door.

Daddy stuck his head out the door and said "yeah hon, I'm in here". He said it real softly like he was telling a secret or somethin'. "What can I do for ya?" he asked with a bland look on his face. Not a look of being mad that I interrupted him; no more just a bored look, like he was tired and bored or somethin'. My first thought was that maybe, since the murder, he hadn't been sleeping very well; you know up nights workin' and worryin' and stuff.

"I just wanted to come out and see what you were doin'," I replied with a big grin. Oh that and pick your brain on what you think about the murder... but I didn't say that, I just thought it.

"I'm doin' what I always do out here Jess... workin' on my Hemi-Cuda." He tossed his head back toward the car as if pointing.

"Oh... oh oookkkkk," I said being completely obvious that I wanted to join him.

"Wanta come in and help out?" Daddy asked already knowing the answer.

He barely got the words out of his mouth when I snapped off: "Sure!" and then, strategically, nudged my way in the door and past him towards his little mini frig he had on the other side of the shed. Yeah, of course, it's full of those nasty beers he drinks, but he always keeps a couple of Pepsi colas in there for me too. Sure enough there was an ice cold one in there with my name on it.

When I popped the top of the can and turned around Daddy was already back to work on his fish car; hemi-cuda, barracuda, tuna fish sandwich whatever it's all the same to me. But he has shown me pictures of a couple of finished cars, and I guess they look pretty neat. I really like the one he showed me in plum crazy purple. Plum crazy purple ha ha, that's funny! But Daddy's car is far from finished. It's more of a bare metal car body with a bunch of car parts lyin' around it really.

"What ya doin' Daddy?" I asked just as Daddy started to weld again.

"Weldin'", Daddy replied.

I thought, Duh... like I didn't already know that!

"No Daddy... I just meant, whatcha doin' out here... you know what's you thinkin' about?"

"I'm thinkin' 'bout welding Jessi. You know it ain't smart to think of other things when you got fire in your hands. I thought I taught you better th'n that." Daddy smirked a little and just kept welding.

"Daddy! You know what I mean." I giggled as I said this and Daddy just kept on welding. After a long moment he stopped and set his torch down.

"What's on your mind Jessi?" Daddy knew I had somethin' up my sleeve. He's pretty good at knowing that sort-a thing.

"Oh nothin' really, just wondering how things are goin' for ya. I mean with everything that's been goin' on and all. You must be pretty tired, huh?"

"I'm fine honey, but thanks for asking," replied Daddy calmly. He then turned to pick up his torch again.

"But..." I just didn't want him to go back to his work... not just now; I hadn't gotten any answers yet.

"Oh was there somethin' else Jessi?" Daddy knew darn good and well that there was. He was playin' a game on me.

"Daddy!" I said this with my best whinny daughter voice that said: "come on now help me out here".

"Ok then Jessi... ok... why don't you come over here and sit down and let's have a chat." Daddy started to walk over to his work bench.

"Why don't we go for a walk down by the creek Daddy? This place smells like oil, beer and lava soap! Yuk." It did too, it always did.

"A wonderful aroma in my opinion honey," Daddy grinned and ruffled my hair with his greasy hand. I don't think he even realized he got me dirty though.

"Come on Daddy," I took him by his hand and led him out into the back yard.

As we made our way into the alley and over the fence into Mr. Johnson's pasture I noticed how distant Daddy seemed. Detached... no that's a better word, detached.

"So what's on your mind Jessi? You got me down by the creek without a fishin' pole, that's not much fun." Daddy picked up a rock and threw it clean across the creek. I picked up a small pebble and tried to skip it but to no avail.

"Daddy... what do you think about that terrible murder?"

"What's that Jessi?" Daddy asked this almost as if he had no idea what I was talking about. As if it was the furthest thing from his mind. Surely not?

"Well you know how ever'body's calling it the world's only Main Street oil well crucifixion and all." I figured that was enough information to at least get him started; maybe.

"Oh that... yeah that's a conversation now isn't it." With this Daddy just turned and started walkin' down the creek bank. Following him, he looked like a man without a care in the world. He had picked up several rocks and was softly pitching them in the creek and just moseying right on along. To that point in my life I really couldn't ever recall seeing Daddy "mosey".

I kept waitin' for Daddy to say something but he didn't. So I picked up a small stick and tossed it at his bottom. It hit him a little harder than I intended.

"Ouch Jessi, what the hell was that for?" Daddy kind of laughed. He knew exactly why I threw that stick!

"Oh come on Daddy talk to me a little. Tell me about what's been goin' on... pleeeease." I'm not much for beggin', but oh well.

"Well I've been workin' on the Hemi-Cuda and just enjoying life really," he had a big grin on his face and a smile in his voice as he said this.

"Come on Daddy," I punched him in the arm; kind of like taking a swing at an oak tree trunk. "Cut it out... you know what I mean."

"Ok, ok Jessi... if it'll keep you from beating me with sticks and fists I'll try to lay it out for ya," he seemed more serious now.

"Good," I replied as I sat down on the creek bank.

"It's been a long time since a murder happened in Barnsdall Oklahoma... a long, long time honey. Folks are scared and angry about it... I don't know which emotion is winnin' out really." Daddy paused for a minute... looked like he was thinkin' hard. "Of course it's a terrible thing." Daddy sort of trailed off as he said this.

"Yeah Daddy, I hear a lot of folks talkin' 'bout it."

"That right Jessi?" Daddy was lookin' across Bird Creek at nothing particularly important; well that I could see anyway.

"Yep Daddy, they're lots of folks that saw Dale Shaw up there, but they're not the one's doing most of the talkin'."

"That's usually the case hon," Daddy replied as he glanced at me then sat down beside me.

"See Daddy, it's the folks that didn't see the... crucifi... the, the... murder that are doin' most of the talking about it."

"Yeah Jessi, it's usually the folks that don't know what they're talkin' 'bout that like to do most of the talkin' in this world; seems they get some calming feeling out of hearin' their own voices or something." Daddy skipped a flat rock across the creek. I counted twelve skips; not bad.

"I guess that's true," I said in partial agreement.

"You better learn to know its true honey," Daddy ruffled my hair. You remember this honey: Believe half of what you read and none of what you hear. You'll be a wise person if you follow that simple rule."

"Are people really that bad about lying Daddy?" I probably already knew the true answer was yes, but figured it was a good question to ask at this point of the conversation. At least Daddy was talkin' to me now.

"Well Jessi there are a lot of liars in this world... a whole lot, but even the one's that don't intend to lie need to watched closely." Another skip, but only ten this time by my count.

"What's that Daddy?" I was interested in his train of thought.

"Well folks tend to rationalize blowing things out of proportion or tellin' a little white lie... you know for their own benefit or purpose. They sort of convince themselves that it's not a real lie; no rather the ends justify the means. Like for the "greater good" their point of view, while not the actual truth, serves a better purpose with their spin on it. Know what I mean honey?"

"I think so Daddy." Indeed I did think I got it, though it was only later on that I fully understood it. I liked Daddy's perspective on this. It was nice not to have to think of liars as necessarily being bad people; rather instead to think of folks as simply telling the truth they thought was best, even though in reality it wasn't the truth at all and in many cases an out and out lie.

"Well let me explain it to ya like this Jessi: If a police officer stops someone for speeding their initial reaction is denial; they say things like "I wasn't speeding!". When you finally show them the radar gun they know the truth is they were speeding, but they often hold to their story because it fits their purpose. They figure telling the lie might get them out of a ticket, so the ends justify the means. Some folks even figure they've already learned their lesson and they won't do it again, so why not just tell the lie and get out of the ticket."

All this made pretty good sense I thought. Daddy was on to something I think.

"But let me tell you somethin' Jessi, and you listen real good now: There's no small lie. There's no harmless lie. Unfortunately lies make the world go round and that's not a good thing. See they spread like wild fire and most folks tell them. Lies grow faster than you can contain them. They spread like a virus. Tell one and you have to tell another to cover up that one. It's never ending." Daddy looked real serious and said: "Got it honey?"

"I sure do Daddy." Daddy was way more articulate in explaining this than he usually is at the dinner table when he's telling his police stories. It really surprised me.

"Good Jessi," Daddy said as he tossed a small rock way up in the air and watched it "curplunk" down right in the middle of the creek.

"So Daddy, what do you think about what happened to Dale Shaw?" I still wanted this answered.

"Well honey it's a terrible thing... awful thing indeed." Daddy paused for a long moment; "An awful thing to happen to the best person possible." Daddy stood up and started walking back up towards the house.

I didn't quite catch Daddy's meaning at first, but after thinking about for a while I think he meant that he wouldn't want to see anybody murdered but if someone was to be it might as well be someone like Dale Shaw; a law breaker, trouble maker. Don't know for sure though if that's what he really meant 'cause I didn't ask him any more questions about it. I probably could have, but just felt like Daddy had most likely already said all he wanted to.

Sleeping With The Fishes

As written in the Tulsa World – FRONT PAGE news article

Just shortly after the first murder in Barnsdall Oklahoma (approximately forty-five miles north of Tulsa and just slightly to the west) in over fifty years there has been a double homicide.

Due to the fact that Barnsdall has been thought to have the world's only Main Street oil well, along with the gruesome nature of the murder itself; the first murder is now being referred to as "The World's Only Main Street Oil Well Crucifixion". To date the murderer(s) in this case have not been identified and it is not known if this murder is connected to the recent double homicide.

Local area resident Trent Dillbeck describes the scene:

"Well I was just headin' down to Big Hole [local fishing area with large rocks and rapids, just north of Barnsdall, OK on Bird Creek], some folks call it Rock Hole but I calls it Big Hole 'cause that's what my Grandpa called it. Yeah I was headin' down to Big Hole just about day break to do some cat fishin', best fishin's in the mornin' ya know.

I got down there by the [Bird] creek and headed up to the top of the rapids to drown a worm or two. I usually like to start at the top and work my way down 'til I finds the big ones. I tell ya there are some big flathead down in that creek!

Anyways, like I was sayin', I'd gotten my hook wet and was settlin' down on a nice soft rock when I got my first bite. Catfish can be kinda tricky ya know, playing with the bait and all, so I just kept sippin' my coffee and dippin' my chew... and awatchin' that line real close. As it took the bait I jumps to my feet and yanked on the line. I thought I'd set the hook real good, it fought [expletive] hard. But when I go it up close to the bank it slipped off the barb or somethin' 'cause the hook came flying back and nearly hit me in the eye. It was big too! I mean it had to be a forty pounder if it was an ounce... blue cat instead of a flat head, but good none the less really.

Where was I, oh yeah... the hook came flying back at me and woulda taken my sight probably if I hadn't turned my head real fast. Instead it hit me in the ear. Luckily it didn't hook me... no just fell down to the ground. Quite a stinger though it was... it sure was.

Well that turnin' my head was what made me notice what was down there at the bottom of the rapids. At first I didn't realize what it was. I guess I was too focused on my [expletive] stingin' ear. But after a short while I started to realize what I was seeing. Couldn't believe it I tell ya... couldn't believe it at all; had to go get closer to get a better look.

Now Big Hole's a pretty treacherous place to walk around. I mean there's a lot of big rocks and rapids, so if you don't watch your footin' then you might end up in the drink [Bird Creek] if you know what I means.

Well I took my time and made my way down to the end of the rapids; nearly slipped a couple a times and spilled my [expletive] coffee ta' boot. But... well I got down there in one piece.

See down at the bottom of the rapids there's an old water pipe that stretches across the creek; way up in the air like... oh maybe 30 feet off the water or somethin'. Don't know if any water still flows through that line but just know it's there; hung up on big A-frame poles on either side of the [Bird] creek. I don't recommend it but, it being a pretty big water pipe, I've seen a few kids walk across it. If you ask me they're nuts.

It's what was hangin' off that water pipe, right in the middle of the [Bird] creek, that had caught my eye. My eyes ain't as good as they used to be, so when I'se up there at the top of the rapids I just told myself I wasn't seein' what I thought I was. But... when I got down there closer there was really no mistaken it.

It's real bad, but I'll tell ya'll what I seen that mornin' down at Big Hole. It ain't somethin' you expect to find on a fishin' trip I'll tell ya that right now... [expletive] right.

What I seen nearly made me lose my ham and egg breakfast; woulda' done that to anybody I'm sure. I couldn't make out who the two fella's were 'cause they were so messed up ya know... only found out who they were later.

Well there they were... two men hanging upside down by their feet from that water pipe. Now I don't know how graphic ya'll want the details... so I'll just tell ya what I saw and you can edit it if you need to.

They were tied by both feet to the pole upside down with their arms dangling down toward the water. They're faces were all bashed in and dripping blood... so I guess they couldn't a' been dead too awful long. If I'd not been in such shock over the whole thing I might a been worried that the killers were still around, but I wasn't.

But the faces wasn't the worst thing... no not by a long shot. See these two fellas had their belly's slit open and their guts was all spilled out and hanging down into the water. Hanging down all that way into the water... man it was nasty. Them guts were still connected to the guys but they had unraveled out the slit in their belly's and was hangin' down into the water.

What's more is how there were turtles and what looked like some pretty big cat fish eatin' those portions of guts that were down in the water; it was almost too much to stomach, ha ha. Sorry for the joke but have to find some way to keep it together after seein' such a thing. A little more gallows humor would be to cast out a line and see if ya couldn't catch some of them big cat fish that were eatin' at the chum. I didn't do that though.

Let me tell ya'll this... who ever done such a thing's pretty darn crazy. Have to be wouldn't they? I bet it's that same crazy that did that kid up there at the oil well. Seems connected to me; I mean we hadn't had a murder 'round these parts in so long, now to have two; well three really, a single and a double murder, in such a short period a time. Well it just has to be connected. Don't take a rocket scientist to know that... no it don't.

Well after I'd stared at them two fella's hanging there like that for a while... didn't really mean to, it's just kinda like how you can't look away from a car wreck when you pass by it... sorta rubberneckin'. Well after I did that for a while I made my way back up to my pickup to get to soundin' the alarm ya know.

I hung 'round to answer questions as all the police, volunteer fireman, paramedics and such showed up. It took them a long while to get those two fella's down from that pipe. You can imagine; it bein' way up in the air and right in the middle a the [Bird] creek. I thought it was gonna take'm 'bout half the day just to decide how to go about gettin' 'em down. But of course they first had to do all that crime scene stuff... took a long while... sure did.

Well anyways, when they got 'em down I overheard one of them volunteer fireman say he thought the guys wallets must've fallen out of their pockets into the creek; being upside down and all, so there was no identification. But that volunteer fireman, I won't mention his name, said he thought the two murdered guys were Dave Jenson and Mike Hostetler; guess he knew them 'cause he seemed pretty sure of it, and pretty shook up about it to. I'd probably be pretty well shaken and stirred if a couple of my buddies were killed like that; or like anyway I suppose. Now I heard that Dave and Mike were like two peas in a pod; always together. And trouble... boy let me tell ya, those two were always causin' a ruckus.

Well after that I asked if I could get on home to the wife and they asked me to stay so they could ask me some more questions. So I hung around... and I hung around... and I waited and waited. They kept me waitin' a long time, then just to ask me a bunch a dumb questions about how often I fish here, why didn't I report this right away instead a doin' some fishing first and stuff like that. I told 'em I didn't see the [expletive] guys hangin' down there from the pipe until after I'd done some fishin'. I told 'em to stop wastin' my time now and let me go... so they did... eventually. [expletive]! The whole thing ruined my fishin'... didn't catch a [expletive] thing!"

I (James Mann, Reporter for the Tulsa World) was there to see first hand the horrid details explained by local fisherman, Mr. Trent Dillbeck. It indeed was a terrible scene. I might add to the quotes by Mr. Dillbeck:

I arrived at the crime scene within approximately forty-five minutes of Mr. Dillbeck's report of the two men hanging from the water pipe. In fact I traveled from Tulsa to Barnsdall, while obeying all of the posted speed limits. I was surprised to find, other than Mr. Dillbeck and a few volunteer fireman (or first responders), I was the first to arrive on scene.

It's not for this reporter to judge or point fingers; merely to report facts. However, it seems to be a very poor response time by both the Barnsdall Police Department as well as the local ambulance service; although the ambulance service clearly didn't have anyone to save in this instance, they could not have known that for certain before arriving on scene. The ambulance service should have arrived earlier. Furthermore; perhaps this poor effort by the local police has something to do with the recent outbreak of lawlessness in and around the town of Barnsdall, OK.

If these three murders in Osage County are connected, and there is a serial killer on the loose; we should all be concerned. Barnsdall is just a short drive, a very short drive, from Tulsa, and what happened in Barnsdall could easily spread to Tulsa and other surrounding communities. It is obvious to this reporter that something needs to be done about the recent rash of murders as well as the poor response from the local police.

Chief of Police John Long arrived at the "Big Hole" (just north of Barnsdall, OK on Bird Creek) crime scene shortly after this reporter did. Recalling that this reporter traveled from Tulsa to arrive on scene, and that the Barnsdall Police Station is less than a five minute drive from "Big Hole", illustrates just how poor the police response was.

Chief John Long did not make himself immediately available for questioning. Rather, this reporter observed him communicating with the volunteer fireman and ambulance personnel, as well as several local residents that were milling around simply to see what had occurred. Chief John Long appeared to have no control over the crime scene or who was allowed in or out of said crime scene.

Upon further requests Chief John Long provided the following quote: "Get the hell out of here and let us do our jobs. We don't have time to answer any stupid questions by nosey reporters"!

Chief John Long then followed up this eloquent quote with a threatening shove to this reporter's chest. He then requested one of his policemen, who refused to provide his name, to escort this reporter away from "Big Hole". The policeman was later identified as Eli Folson, a part-time officer for the Barnsdall Police Department.

This reporter has something to share with the Barnsdall Police Department, and especially Chief of Police John Long: If you don't understand "freedom of the press" then bear down and learn about it, because it is inappropriate to exclude the press unnecessarily. Also, while digging into the topic you so clearly do not understand (the first amendment), try to look into jurisdiction. It is clear to this reporter that the Barnsdall Police Department did not, and does not, have full jurisdiction of the area known as "Big Hole". Abuse of power in many ways, along with a poor response time should leave the residents of Barnsdall, OK and surrounding communities feeling very shaky about how their being served by the Barnsdall Police Department.

In fact there are many residents of Barnsdall, OK concerned:

Barnsdall resident Matt Davidson expressed his concerns when this reporter interviewed him at Ella's Coffee Shop in Barnsdall:

"I'm very concerned about what's been goin' on in Barnsdall; seems like we might have a serial killer on our hands. Like someone, or possibly someone's, gone crazy and started killin' folks in some [expletive] bad ways.

I mean yeah... of course I'm concerned. What's happened to our law 'round these parts anyways? Don't get me wrong, up until just recently I thought Chief o' Police Long's been doin' a fine job; you know keeping things quiet and the kids from runnin' too wild and stuff. But now I just don't know.

Talkin' to my friends around town I know a lot of them feel the same way. Lots a folks aren't lettin' their kids out after dark, and some of them aren't lettin' 'em out at all really; well not until an arrest is made. This is a town of not even two thousand folks... how hard could it be to weed out a suspect? I don't even think they've done that yet! It's getting' out a hand real fast... it sure is.

I'm not sure why Chief Long is draggin' his feet like this or what Mayor Tolson's doin' 'bout it, but somethin' has to be done and quick like. Ever'body's real scared around here and for good reason. We don't feel like we are bein' protected by the law and that's not a good thing... not good at all. Bunch of us are thinkin' 'bout puttin' together a petition or somethin' to bring about some changes. We need stronger leadership and better law 'round here. Someone who'll get off their butts and get busy... get to work!"

It is clear that Barnsdall resident Matt Davidson has strong feelings about what needs to be done, and he is not alone:

Another Barnsdall resident (actually from Wrangle Heights) Diane Chesterfield expressed similar concerns when interviewed by this reporter while coming out of the Barnsdall Market:

"I'm just terrified! I live alone over in Wrangle Heights, just across Bird Creek, and if there's no safety in Barnsdall their sure isn't over there either. I have a dog but how much good would that do with some psycho? I mean we've got a real nut runnin' around here.

My brother Steve said he'd give me one of his guns to protect myself, but I just don't know. I'm not very good with those things and it might be more dangerous than the murderer [laughs]. But yeah... we're all real scared around here.

I wish they'd bring in some expert lawmen that know how to deal with a situation like this. I mean Chief Long's been good for Barnsdall, but with somethin' like this you'd think he'd be in over his head. I hear he hasn't even really started workin' on it yet, but I don't know. Surely he's working on it, but maybe he's just not barking up the right trees.

You know most folks 'round here know who the crazy's are. Most folks know who probably did it, but are just too afraid to say. Chief Long should look into those folks first and make an arrest. That would set ever'body's mind at ease... yeah a quick arrest.

Me... I'm gonna make sure my doors and windows are locked up tight at night and that I keep a clear path to the telephone in case somethin' comes up. Other than that what can we do? I mean it's kinda out of our hands as simple residents."

This reporter believes it is far from out of the Barnsdall, and surrounding community, resident's hands. Instead it is clearly within their grasp to stand up and let their voices be heard for better political leadership and especially law enforcement leadership under these circumstances. Either Chief of Police John Long step up and do his job or step aside and let an outside expert come in and do it for him; it is in the town's best interest.

I hope Chief Long reads this newspaper and makes the right decision. It is entirely possible that Barnsdall, OK has a serial killer on its hands.
Time For A Plan

As told to me by David Spencer at school... not sure where he heard about it, or if I trust his facts bein' straight? I'm not quoting him, just givin' you the gist of it... 'cause who could really understand David's gibberish anyways?

Chief of Police John Long called a meeting the same day as the discovery of the bodies down at Big Hole; the double murder it turned out to be. John was beyond concerned with these recent events and wanted to have a "sit down" with his employees to all get on the same page.

"Ok quiet down ever'body... quiet down now... shut up ya'll!" John supplied the coffee and doughnuts so he figured they should all keep their mouths closed at least. Silence fell in the room... eventually.

"Alright now troops listen up. I don't have to tell you just how serious things have gotten now. Not a murder in this town in over 50 years," John paced the floor, "now three in a row; and a double homicide ta' boot. Things have gotten right on out of hand haven't they... well haven't they!" John blurted out, just under a yell really.

John's employees all shook their heads in silence; except for Jenni. She said "yes" in a muffled way with a mouth full of bear claw. When she realized she was the only one that spoke she kind of looked side to side and then down at the floor... hoping John didn't single her out as doin' something wrong. It ran through her mind just how oppressed John made her feel at times. She was lucky... this time. John let it go.

"Has anyone made any progress yet? Any word about town on who might have done this double homicide?" John knew his employees couldn't know anything as they'd just come from the double homicide crime scene down at Big Hole. He was just setting them up for a tongue lashing really. The room remained silent for a long moment as everyone looked at the floor; even John started examining the floor after a while.

"What the hell is down here?" John pointed to the floor. "What is it that ya'll are staring at anyways?" John laughed loudly. "I'll take your silence as a... duh I don't know!" John was clearly mocking them.

"Well now John we just came from the crime scene, how could we... " John didn't let Jerry finish.

"There's Jerry Taylor always quick with an excuse of why work isn't gettin' done. So you just came from the crime scene huh, and that's why you couldn't know nothin', huh?" John paced back and forth, not providing eye contact to anyone in the room.

"Well yeah John, we haven't had the time yet," replied Jerry softly.

"I suppose that's why you haven't made any progress in the first murder too huh?"

"Well no John, I mean that one's got ever'body stumped though doesn't it?" Jerry sounded quite unsure of himself. He wished he'd not spoken up now.

"Well I guess if ever'body's stumped then we otta just finish our doughnuts and head on home... maybe even schedule some vacation time... you know get some fishin' in, Lord knows I've been missin' out on a lot a fishin' lately." John had stopped pacing but still wasn't looking directly at Jerry.

"That's not what I meant John," replied Jerry squirming just a little in his chair.

"That's ok Jerry... that's ok... I think I know exactly what you meant," John could not have sounded more condescending in his tone.

"Now ya'll hear me and hear me good. We are at risk here." Everyone in the room initially thought John was referring to the risk of a serial killer in our midst; in Barnsdall. But John quickly clarified what his real concern was.

"We are at risk to have some county or state police force come in here and take over this investigation. And let me tell ya'll right now... I ain't havin' it. No I ain't... not in my town." John sounded prideful.

Under his breath Cecil whispered: "Might be for the best".

"What was that Cecil... you have somethin' insightful to add?" Even though Cecil didn't intend for John to hear him, he did. John understood what Cecil was saying and didn't appreciate it at all.

"Umm... well... umm no... no John I don't have nuttin' to say," replied Cecil with eyes affixed firmly to the floor.

"That's what I thought!" John was getting revved up now.

"Anybody else got somethin' smart to say? How 'bout you Jerry... any more choice words of wisdom outa you?" John stared right at Jerry now.

"Well John," replied Jerry softly as he looked up into John's cold stare. "Isn't the most important thing here to protect the folks a Barnsdall? I mean maybe we ought to welcome some outside help. Maybe we should hope someone with some experience in things like this comes forward and offers to help."

"That's just great Jerry... that's just great! If it were up to you, when there's a serious crime in our town we'd just hand it over to some outsider and let them figure it all out. That's just great! What the hell do you think we're here for anyway? Just writing parking tickets or sittin' up at the damn school to make sure no one speeds in the school zones? Is that what you think Jerry? 'cause if it is then we might as well just pack it in right now. Is that what you think son?"

"Well no John, that's not what I think, but this is a pretty big deal here now with three murders on our hands. Hell we could have a serial killer out there and I for one think we should welcome all the help we can get." Jerry looked around the room after he spoke, hoping to see bobbing heads in agreement; he didn't see them.

"I'll tell ya one thing right now Jerry... we ain't gonna hand off our work to outsiders or insiders or to anyone else; you hear? Well do ya Jerry!"

"I hear ya John."

"Good, then you can just make your decision right now Jerry Taylor. You can either decide to be on board or off; 'cause if you want off there's the door and if you choose to stay on this ship then if you bring up that crap again I'll see you walk the plank. You got me Jerry?"

"Yes sir," Jerry snapped off a military understanding of an order to be followed... and not questioned.

"Ok then Jerry... on board or off?" John required positive confirmation here. He didn't want to have this conversation again; with any of his troops.

"On board John... I'm on board," Jerry's voice sounded weary.

"Alright then... moving on," said John with a slight grin. "To put it plainly; we need a plan to resolve, solve and capture this killer or killers that have put our town of Barnsdall on the map as the murder capital of Oklahoma. Let's hear some ideas." John stepped back and sat down in a chair, leaning it back against the wall and crossing his arms.

At first it was silent... for a long while... then Jenni spoke up.

"Well this town ain't that big, I suppose we could start goin' up and down the streets knocking on doors and askin' folks if they seen or heard anything... you know 'bout the killin's." Jenni took a nervous sip of her coffee.

"That's a start, thanks Jenni," John said without changing his expression or posture. "Let's hear more... Eli what do you think?"

Eli nearly jumped out of his seat. It's not often that Chief of Police John Long asked his opinion, bein' a part-time officer and all, in fact Eli couldn't ever remember a time when Big John asked for his thoughts.

"Ah umm, well... now let me think for a second John," Eli stammered as he tried to wrap his mind around the question.

"That's ok Eli... take your time... Cecil what about you? Any thoughts you'd like to speak out loud so ever'one can hear?" Cecil looked up at John.

"Well... ah... John, I suppose we could make a list of the folks we know are... well folks we know are... bad ya know. Then go talk to 'em?" Cecil's voice trailed off at the end of his statement.

"You suppose you could make a list," goaded John with a smartass grin?

"Well... n-n-no, we could make a list."

"Could?" Again John just wasn't letting poor ole' Cecil off the hook.

"Well yes we should," replied Cecil with more confidence in his tone now. John just stared coldly at Cecil. It was clear John was still pushing him.

"Will! We will make a list and get to talkin' to those folks," replied Cecil now with vigor in his voice.

"Good, now back to you Eli," John pointed a big index finger right at Eli.

"We can work to figure out exactly how all this happened... you know if there's more than one killer... motive and such... stuff like that." Eli looked back at the floor quickly hoping against hope that John would accept his thoughts.

"Good idea Eli! Thank you," replied John politely. Eli breathed a sigh of relief that could be heard throughout the small room.

"Jerry we already know what you think, so why don't you just start beating the streets as Jenni mentioned and she'll man, or should I say wo-man, the phones." John winked at Jenni and clapped his hands together loudly. "Now let's get to it!"

With that everyone scrambled to their feet and headed out of police station, leaving only Big John and Jenni there. Jenni put her telephone head set on and situated herself at her desk with a full cup of coffee as a companion.

"Ya know Jenni... sometimes I wonder if there's a brain one in those guys... know what I mean?"

"It ain't just them John, its all men... present company excluded of course," Jenni smiled big.

"Of course," replied John with a grin in return.

"Well they seemed to come 'round with some nudgin' though didn't they?" John leaned against the front door frame; which he nearly filled up to the roof.

"Yeah they sure did. Sometime's you gotta push 'em a bit. Guess this was one of those times. That's what the Chief is for right?" Jenni had a pleasant tone of voice.

"Yes, yes that's true... that's true," John sounded bored.

"This wearin' on ya John?" Jenni hoped John didn't take her question wrong; she was genuinely concerned about her boss.

"Oh I'm fine Jenni... I'm fine." John said this softly and just turned and walked out the front door. Jenni thought nothing of it and returned to her work of waiting on a call and drinkin' her coffee.

As John walked to his police cruiser he couldn't help but wonder if his police officer's really did get where he was coming from. Did they understand that he wanted to take care of this himself? Did they understand that if it was proven it takes an outside police force to resolve crime in Barnsdall, OK then folks might figure out they're paying all of them for no good reason? Did any of them really want to put in the time and effort to catch whoever was doing these crimes? Did they really get it? Big John wondered.
Crazy As Spit

Well the word today at school was that Suzy and Sam Ingles were havin' a good ole' time on the way home from school yesterday. It's not to say that Suzy and Sam necessarily get along. I mean they're brother and sister only about a year apart in age, so they're bound to fight ever' now and then. Right?

Anyways, they were just skippin' along and bein' kids and all when, hear tell, they started spitting on the sidewalk. Well, they weren't really spittin' on the sidewalk on purpose they were spittin' at each other; see on this day they weren't getting along very well at all... not at all... seemed to have some nasty competition goin' I guess. Sometimes, they really just don't get along at all.

That's a nasty crime ya know, spittin' on the sidewalk and all. I know 'cause my Daddy told me he hates it and really enforces the law on that one; although I've seen him spit his snuff plenty of times in public. Although Daddy usually spits into the grass, not on the sidewalk; I guess that makes a difference in the law or something. I think I'll ask him about that sometime.

Way I heard it from Jenny Thompson is that Suzy and Sam headed out on their walk home from school gettin' along pretty good. Just skippin' along and enjoying the day. But somewhere along the way they started bickerin'. Seems Suzy, accidentally, gave Sam a flat tire. You know when some one steps on your shoe from behind, right on the heel, and the back of your shoe ends up comin' off... you know a flat tire.

Well apparently a flat tire is what started it all. See Sam turned around and asked Suzy what she did that for. She replied she didn't do it on purpose "GOSH!". I guess Sam called her a liar of somethin' and off they were in a big argument. Yellin' at each other on Main Street, screamin' really, not caring who heard.

Sam called Suzy a liar. Suzy called Sam a baby. Sam called Suzy stupid. Suzy called Sam a Momma's boy. Well you get the gist of it right?

Wasn't long when words turned to blows; or maybe we should call them slaps. When Sam called his sister a "skunkazoid" and held his nose between his thumb and index finger... well she slapped him but good.

Not sure if Sam really deserved that for his choice of words and antics, but he sure got it; a good slap right across the check and a little bit of the ear. His face immediately turned red showing a hand print, fingers and all. Then his whole face got red as his anger boiled up and tears shot into his eyes.

Now Sam's been taught by his Daddy, Sam Senior, not to hit girls. That said, Sam almost did hit his sister back... he sure thought about it good and hard. But he chose not to hit her. Instead he chose a well placed "loogie".

There stood Sam with a red face and his hands clinched at his side; right there on Main Street. And there stood Suzy with a big "loogie" hanging off her nose all nasty and all. I tell ya, even a little bit of that loggie went right in her half opened mouth! Yuk!

Didn't take long after that for the spit fight to break out in full bloom. I mean it's just human nature right? If someone spits on you, you gotta spit back. Right? I mean I sure would... yes I would. And so did Suzy.

Suzy reached way down deep with a snort and a grunt, summoning up some nasty stuff from down deep. Sam recognized what was comin' and turned to run, but he still had a flat tire so he tripped and ended up on the ground. Not hurt too bad though, just a skinned knee. But this little trip left Suzy with just enough time to get Sam good... real good. She managed to spit right on the back of her brother's neck. Some of it went in his hair and the rest of it quickly ran right down under his t-shirt collar and onto his back. You know 'cause the loogie was all snotty and all it just squirmed right down in there. That musta been somethin' awful!

With a disgusted look on his face, Sam managed to get back to his feet and conjured up his own snot filled mess while Suzy tried to run by him to get away. She didn't get far as Sam tripped her. As Suzy tried to get back to her feet, Sam fixed his flat tire and jumped on top of her.

He didn't quite have her pinned down, but that didn't stop him from planting a loogie right between his sister's eyes. She squealed a little bit and reached up and grabbed Sam's hair. With a big tug Sam rolled off to the side and Suzy jumped to her feet. She spat at Sam and managed to get one right in his eye. She saw her chance and started headin' for home at a break neck pace.

Wasn't long until Sam was in toe and makin' good time... catchin' up he was. As he caught Suzy she kind of peaked over her shoulder and saw him comin'. As Sam reached out to grab her by the collar of her shirt, she ducked under his hand and came to a complete stop right on the edge of the sidewalk where Main Street intersects with Highway 11.

Sam didn't manage to stop and found himself runnin' right out in front of a car that was crossin' the intersection. Now he was in the crosswalk and all, but he still ran right out in front of the car! The car came to a screachin' hault and the driver behind the wheel made an expression that said: "you dumb kid, get out of the road!" Sam just ran back onto the side walk after his sister.

Suzy was quite stunned by seeing her brother nearly get run over by a car, so she was just kinda frozen there. Sam took his chance and tackled Suzy. This time he managed to pin her down pretty good; he had his knees on both of Suzy's shoulders and was sitting on her chest. She could hardly breathe, let alone move to get away.

"Ha! Got you now Sis," said Sam with great pleasure.

"Ge... ge... get off me," muttered Suzy as she tried to speak with short breaths. Her face was beginning to turn red as she struggled to get her brother off her chest so she could catch her breath.

Sam was having none of it though, he had her pinned down good and he was raining down spit all over her face.

A passerby, don't know who it was really, thought this little spit fight had gone on long enough and pulled Sam off his sister... but that was not the end of it... no not by far.

When Suzy got to her feet she spat hard at her brother, nearly hitting the passerby in the process. That quickly got rid of that guy.

On and on it went... with the spitting and all. Before you knew it Suzy and Sam were covered from head to toe in nasty spit. They musta lost ten pounds each from all the liquid they managed to spit out. There was spit drippin' from their ears and hair. There was spit soaked through their clothes; heck, there was even spit on their shoes if you can believe that.

Well, about this time the law showed up. Apparently it was my Daddy that came on the scene of one of the worst spit fights in history. I bet he was thrilled! Jenny said he really gave them that what for.

"Hold it right there... what's goin' on here," said Daddy half way out of his police cruiser?

Suzy and Sam were too enthralled with their spit fight; they didn't even hear him.

"Ya'll stop it now... right now," said Daddy as he quickly approached them.

That's when it happened. Sam accidentally spit right on Daddy. Spit right on his arm as Daddy was reaching to pull Sam away from his sister.

Sam seen what he'd done and his jaw dropped nearly to the ground. Fear ran across his face as he tried to mutter somethin' 'bout "she s-s-started it". He was frozen, knees locked and lookin' like he'd just lost his last quarter.

"Ok that's it! Stop right now!" Daddy wasn't kiddin' around.

"I didn't start it! He did," said Suzy with tears in her eyes; that and a lot of spit too.

"Kids!" Daddy started to yell, but then lowered his voice to a calm tone. "Kids... I don't care who started it, but this is gonna stop right now... you got me?" Daddy had started to grasp both of them by the collar but thought better of it when he saw all that spit on there.

"Y-y-yes," replied Suzy and Sam together, almost as a duet.

"Yes what?" Daddy demanded his respect as a lawman.

"Yes sir," they replied again in unison.

"Just what the hell do you think you kids are doin' anyways?" Daddy wanted a quick concise answer, but both Suzy and Sam were so upset he wasn't gonna get one.

"He, he, he started it! He's a bully... a real meany I tell ya! I think..." Daddy broke in.

"What's ya'll's names?" Daddy pulled out a pad and pen and started to write.

"Umm, well a... she's Suzy and I'm Sam," replied Sam in a high pitched nervous tone.

"Mmm, I see... and last name?" Daddy was writing intently, more than just names.

"Ingles," replied Suzy looking at her brother with contempt. She was angrier about getting into trouble with the law than all that spit now.

"Your parents know you act like this when you're out of the nest?"

"Well, I a... I'm... well," stammered Sam.

"Well do they or don't they," Daddy looked up from his pad of paper and glared at first Suzy and then Sam.

"I s'pose not Sir," replied Sam averting his eyes from Daddy's strong stare.

"And what about you little Suzy Ingles?"

"No Sir," replied Suzy with a tired tone.

"Think they'd like it much?"

Suzy thought quickly before she answered. She thought about how grown up folk talk; about how they have these long drawn out conversations tryin' to teach kids things. She knew this lawman already knew the answers to these questions, but figured she was in for a tongue lashing and this was just the tip of the iceberg. Suzy resigned herself to this with the answer: "No Sir".

Daddy didn't have to ask Sam, he just looked over at him and raised his eyebrows. This was enough to elicit a response: "No Sir".

"Ya'll realize spittin' on the sidewalk's a crime?"

"No," replied both Suzy and Sam together. They eyed each other with befuddled looks on their faces. It truly appeared they didn't know they were committing any crime. Didn't matter to Daddy though; ignorance of the law's no excuse.

"Well it is... and a damn nasty one as well," Daddy looked them both up and down. "Just look at yourselves... ya'll outa be 'shamed of yourselves." Suzy and Sam lowered their heads and stared at the sidewalk.

"I didn't get much spit on the sidewalk really, got most of it on her... that a crime?" Sam asked this question with innocent intent really, but it sounded sarcastic to Daddy.

"Come again Son."

"I was askin' if it was a crime to..." Daddy didn't let him finish.

"Why you little smart ass, you just watch your tone with me boy or you'll find more trouble than you want... you got me boy!" Daddy glared down at Sam from his high perch.

Sam took a step back like he'd been punched. Indeed he thought he was going to be; that was the look he was receiving from this big lawman.

"You got me boy!" Yelled Daddy again.

"Ye ye yes Sir," replied Sam while quickly looking back at the sidewalk.

"Now... I'm not going to put you messy kids in my police cruiser," again Daddy looked Sam and Suzy up and down, frowning. "What I'm gonna do is send you kids home to your Momma and give you a couple of hours to tell her what you've been doin'; although it will be pretty obvious to her when she sees those clothes."

Suzy and Sam were looking at each other. They seemed to have hope in their eyes; that is until Daddy said:

"And just to make sure your stories don't get off track, I'm gonna swing by your house in a few hours to chat with your Momma; you know make sure she fully understands. So where do you live... and don't think of givin' me a false address either 'cause it really ain't that hard to find out where folks live in Barnsdall and that'll only make things worse for ya." Daddy had all his bases covered.

Suzy explained to Daddy where they lived and Daddy dismissed them to go home. Come to find out later Daddy never did swing by their house to talk to their mother. Guess he figured they'd tell truth with just the threat of him stoppin' by and talking to her? Either way they did tell the truth to their Momma; and she was none too happy.

Well that's the basic story Jenny Thompson told me. Isn't that gross? I mean a spit fight like that... yuk!

Now that spit fight happened yesterday. I didn't see either Sam or Suzy in school today. They musta got in some pretty big trouble for what they did, but surely they weren't grounded from school; that wouldn't make any sense?

I spent quite some time askin' 'round about them but no one had seen them. I can't wait till they come back so I can find out what happened from the horse's mouth. 'course they'll probably just be mad at me 'cause of what my Daddy put them through. He was just doin' his job, but that probably won't matter to them. It rarely matters to anyone; just seems folks blame me for what my Daddy does. Daddy didn't do anything wrong this time; I guess I'm just feelin' a little sorry for myself that's all.
Hanging Out At Midnight

As I overhead folks talkin' at the cash register down to the Barnsdall Market

It was late on a Thursday night, and the day after Suzy and Sam's little spit fight. Everything seemed fine down town, hardly a car to be seen. The one stop light was right in time. It's not a normal stop light though; not one of those red, yellow, greeners. No, it's a simple blinking red light; blinks on a timer. It hangs down from a wire that stretches diagonally across the main intersection in town. Blink, blink, blink.

It was about as quiet as can be and a clear night as well; not too cold, not too hot. By all accounts it was just another boring small town weeknight in Oklahoma.

That is until Tom and Mary Scroggins happened upon it. They were making their way home from a late visit to the hospital; seeing Mary's ailing mother.

"You Ok Mary?" Tom noticed sadness in his wife of nearly forty years.

"Oh I'm alright Tom... just tired's all," Mary reached over and touched her husband's hand.

"I know it's tough to see your mother like that hon... you wanta talk about it a bit?" Tom thought letting Mary vent some might help her relax.

"No... no I just wanta get on home and get to bed... Alzheimer's is a terrible thing ain't it?" Mary's voice sounded drained of all energy.

"It sure is hon... it sure is," replied Tom while taking his wife's hand in his own. He squeezed her hand firmly and smiled over at her. "We're gettin' near to town now; won't be long.

Mary glanced over at the speedometer and said: "Not at this pace, that's for sure". Tom smiled again and took his foot off the accelerator, slowing to the speed limit; well almost anyways.

When Tom and Mary reached the bridge crossing Bird Creek, Tom did indeed slow to the speed limit; slowly making their way around the corner by the wax plant toward Main Street. Tom noticed there was no one around, no cars on the road; he didn't really expect to see any either. What he did see though was well beyond his expectations.

***

No one saw anything before about ten to midnight, but just after, just as Tom and Mary pulled their Buick sedan to a stop at the blinking light on Main Street, they saw it.

At first Mary wasn't really even paying attention, she was more dozing with her eyes open; just staring out the passenger side window up at the stars in the clear sky. It wasn't until her husband said "What's that?" that Mary focused on it.

As John drove up to Main Street he first thought about Big Heart Day. The celebration day in Barnsdall; kind of like a carnival to celebrate the town's former name of "Big Heart"; that is before it got blown away by a tornado way back when and then later sprang back up to be "Barnsdall", named after the fella that opened the wax plant.

He thought about Big Heart Day because folks often hang banners and balloons and such from the wire that holds the blinking street light up. That's why he thought maybe someone had hung... well what looked like... what looked like a couple of piñatas.

Tom would have left his thought at that: just a couple of piñatas, but they were hanging down pretty low and he wondered if he might hit them as he tried to drive under the street light. As he squinted to focus his eyes he noticed something falling off of them... or more runnin' off of them really. It didn't immediately click in his mind though.

"What's that?" Tom said to Mary with bewilderment in his voice.

"Hmm?" Mary replied looking over at her husband. She looked straight from her window to her husband, without focusing in on what was ahead of them. By this time Tom had come to a complete stop at the corner of Highway 11 and Main Street and put the car in park.

John didn't look at Mary, he didn't take his eyes off of it; he couldn't take his eyes off of it. Instead he just stared at it and pointed out the front window, saying: "Mary... what is that?" Tom sounded curious... he didn't really sound alarmed at all... yet.

Mary turned her head to let her eyes follow the path of Tom's finger point. What she saw was somethin' hanging on the wire that Barnsdall's only stoplight hangs from; two something's actually. She immediately noticed that, what ever they were, they were high up there, but hung down low enough to surely hit a car or truck that ran under them.

"What is that?" Tom repeated as he started to realize what he was seeing but didn't want to admit it to himself. His tone of voice began to signal alarm with every blinking signal of the stop light.

"I'm not sure... is that..." Mary paused as she heard the doors unlock.

"I'm gonna go take a look," said Tom as he reached for the door handle.

"Tom wait a minute... be careful... watch for traffic," Mary really just didn't want her husband to get out of the car and get close to what she thought she was seeing.

Hearing Mary say "watch for traffic", Tom looked at her with a duh look; as he looked in all directions and saw not one car and didn't even hear a car running. It was dead silent except for a soft hissing sound coming from the plant back down the road.

"Ok Mary... I'll watch for traffic," Tom replied with a nervous laugh. He was only kidding himself that there was anything humorous in his immediate future.

As Tom got out of the car and slowly approached it, Mary noticed a little shoe lying in the road, and something was running, dripping... no running on the road; something coming from them. "What are those," said Mary to herself. "Oh goodness!"

"Tom... Tom! What is it? What's..." Mary broke off as it registered with her. She knew what she was seeing all along really... just couldn't face it. It was too awful. It took her husband turning around with a horrified look on his face, speechless, to make her come to terms with it. She began to shake violently with fear.

Tom began to back away from the scene, placing his hand over his mouth; he felt nauseous. He stepped back to the car and leaned one hand on the hood while he knelt down to one knee and looked up at the star filled sky. Taking in a deep breath he began to get his bearings. Turning to look at Mary didn't help his nervousness, as his wife was nearly in hysterics now.

"Tom... T... T... Tom... oh my God... oh my Jesus!" Mary continued to shake.

Tom went around to the passenger side and reached for the door handle, but Mary had locked the doors, and the windows were up.

"Mary unlock the doors honey," Tom said softly; just loud enough to be heard through the glass.

"Wha?" Mary wasn't fully in the here and now.

"Mary honey... unlocked the doors," Tom repeated as he tapped on the passenger window. Mary snapped her head towards him and seemed to come out of her stupor; somewhat.

"What... oh... oh," Mary said as she reached down to unlock the doors but hit the window button instead; partially lowering the pane before she managed to get the right button.

"Good," said Tom as he opened the passenger side door and took his wife in his arms. "It's ok Mary... it's ok... everything's gonna be fine." Tom tried to calm his wife and mask his own feelings of pure horror.

As Tom held Mary in his arms he glanced over and looked up at the scene again. He had to face the fact that it was real; that what he saw really was happening.

Tom slowly came to terms with the fact that there were two children, appeared to be a girl and a boy, hanging from their feet right here on Main Street. Two children dangling from the only stoplight wire in Barnsdall, OK. He quickly thought about the recent killings in town and felt his stomach churn.

It was only later that Tom and Mary Scroggins were to find out the children's names: Suzy and Sam Ingles. At the crime scene it was virtually impossible to identify the children because... well their faces were so disfigured. The children's tongues and lips, and most of their mouths were cut out, and they were bleeding like stuck pigs to the ground.

Tom's mind raced. His first thoughts were to find a way to get them down and help them; help these... these... children. Tom pulled away from Mary.

"Where'r you going?" Mary tried to hold tight to her husband.

"Mary... I have to see if they're alive," Tom took Mary's hands in his.

"Uh... Oh... could they be?" Mary was confused, she really didn't want her husband to go near the scene, but then if they were alive she wanted him to hurry up and get right in there... to help. Her voice seemed express both thoughts.

"I doubt it honey, but I have to find out." Tom began to make his way slowly toward the children.

The two children were hanging down low enough that he could easily eyeball their injuries and reach to check for a pulse on their necks. There's blood everywhere, thought Tom as he approached the girl first. Blood was running to the ground but Tom didn't even pay attention that he was walking through it and then standing right in it. It was pooling right under his feet.

"Tom... what are you goin' ta' do?" Mary remained with the car.

"I don't see any breathing Mary... but I've got to see if there's a pulse," Tom reached to the little girl's neck. He thought about how horrifically mutilated the children were and how they might be better off if they were... well if they were... dead. He hated himself for this thought, but was trying to be realistic. With the injuries they had sustained it would be almost impossible to fully recover. It might be a fate worse than death. Tom thought that it would be to him.

After a long moment Mary asked: "Tom... Tom," she said in a loud whisper voice, "is there a pulse?" She didn't get out of the car; rather she spoke from out the car window.

Tom heard his wife's voice through the fog of his mind. His head was full of thoughts and emotions, from anger to remorse, from empathy to rage; his mind jumped around. Finally he pulled himself from his fog, like a puppy pawing its way through a wool blanket, and replied to Mary: "No... no she has no pulse."

Tom quickly moved to the boy and verified no pulse there either. As Tom returned to the car he couldn't stop staring at the blood all over his hands. The blood was initially only on the hand he utilized to feel for a pulse, but as he worked to wipe the blood clean he simply managed to cover both hands in blood. He didn't even notice the foot prints of blood that followed him back to his vehicle.

Tom leaned on the car for several minutes gathering himself, listening to Mary sob from inside the car, before he made the short trek to the police station just over a half a block away.

When Tom arrived at the police station he found Jenni Bresh watching late night TV and manning the radio. Jenni was startled when she saw the blood on Tom Scroggins' hands; but more startled by the look in his eyes.

"Call Big John please," said Tom in a zombie voice. In fact he looked like a zombie to Jenni; devoid of all emotion.

"What happened?" Jenni sounded professional and calm, but her facial expression conveyed alarm.

"I think this is somethin' to show Chief Long honey, please just call him to the stop light right out there." Tom pointed back towards the terrible scene.

"Ok," said Jenni as she called Chief of Police John Long.

***

Arriving at the scene, John's first emotion was despair. How could these things... all these things be going on in his town; my town, he thought. As he got out of his cruiser and walked slowly toward the crime scene he began to feel disgusted. Who could do such a thing to children, he thought. How could someone live with themselves after doing such a thing to a... to a... a child; to children?

Tom Scroggins approached Big John saying: "John... I'm the one that found them this way, well my wife Mary and I happened on 'em. We were on our way home from the hospit..." John interrupted. He wasn't' rude to Tom (who he knew well from around town), just wanted to begin his job of gathering facts.

"How long ago was that? Since you found them Tom?"

"Not long ago... not more than twenty minutes I guess, but to tell you the truth I'm a bit shaken John, lost track a time... I don't know really." Tom didn't notice, but John did... Tom was shaking violently.

"That's OK Tom... it's OK, just come on over here and sit down for a spell." John walked Tom to his own car. He sat Tom behind the wheel next to Mary. Mary hadn't moved from her passenger side seat the whole time. Big John thought she looked like she was in a trance; he said nothing to her.

Turning his mind back to the crime scene, John Long quickly noted that Tom had walked through the blood on the ground. Based on that blood still appearing somewhat fresh he surmised that the children were killed very recently. He then thought he should probably wait until the paramedics call them dead before he makes his final decision on that.

John returned to his police cruiser and called in both the ambulance and his officers; as well as the volunteer firemen. It wasn't long before the crime scene was swarming with folks; both appropriately there to help, and inappropriately there to snoop and see what had happened. John reminded himself that this is simply normal small town folk's behavior; but nonetheless he didn't like it. Rubberneckers he thought.

When the paramedics informed John that both of the children were indeed deceased he was not surprised. There was just too much blood to hope for survival. Big John noticed how pasty faced the paramedic looked. Even with fifteen years of experience the ambulance worker had never seen this type of thing; never been called on an ambulance run to somethin' like this.

After several hours of documenting, photographing, and searching for evidence John felt they'd done all they could to properly preserve and contain the crime scene. He realized that much of his evidence would probably be tainted by Tom Scroggins gettin' into the crime scene as well as the paramedics (although the paramedics should know better than to mess things up). Once everyone felt they were done with their duty they all came walkin' up to Chief of Police John Long, draggin' their feet with their heads down. They needed guidance, John recognized that.

"Ok... ya'll bring 'em down," John said in a confident even tone. Leadership is what is needed now, he thought as he spoke the words.

"Alright," said one of the volunteer firemen, "bring the truck over and get the ladder up there". No one seemed to want to volunteer for the job but they all pitched in and did their part. They were as gentle as possible, which was hard considering just how well the children were tied up to the wire; by their small feet.

John watched as the fireman struggled to untie the knots. After several minutes Big John rolled his eyes and said: "Cut 'em down!" He didn't want all the rubberneckers gawking, oowing and ahhing all night long as the fireman tried to untie what were some hard knots.

"Anybody got a pocket knife?" John was astonished to hear this from the fireman tryin' to untie the knots. What fireman doesn't carry a pocket knife, he thought?

Finally a knife was handed up the ladder and the fireman began cutting the ropes. He wasn't thinking as he hadn't waited for someone to get under the victim, and the boy fell to the ground with a squishy sounding thud; right on his head. Several folks, in the crowd that had gathered around the crime scene, gasped in horror. John was furious.

"Ya'll pull your heads out of your asses and show some respect... pick him up quickly and don't let that happen with the girl!" John didn't yell but there was urgency in his voice.

The fireman complied and the paramedics brought out the body bags. The crowd began to disperse once the children were in the black bags. John noticed how they only half filled those large bags; with their little child bodies.

As the paramedics were loading the children in the ambulance John wondered where the parents of the children were, why weren't they here? Hell ever'body in town knew what was going on. He wondered why the parents of these children hadn't put out a missing persons report. He'd heard nothing of the sort. After clearing his mind of the anger he felt towards what he initially thought of as bad parenting, he came to he realization that maybe... just maybe the parents were asleep at home and thought their kids were asleep at home as well. That's probably it he thought. Surely that is what they think.

As the ambulance drove away and everyone cleared out and John dismissed his officers, he decided to remain on scene for a while. He sat on the curb and looked at the wet street where the fireman had washed the blood away with their hoses. He thought about how tomorrow that water will be dry and there won't be much of any sign of what happened right here at the intersection of Main Street and Highway 11; nothing but a lingering memory of what happened this night in his town of Barnsdall Oklahoma.

John took out a dip of snuff and looked up at the clear sky. All those stars he thought. He wondered what he could do to stop what was goin' on in his town. He thought about his wife and children. He worried about what they must be thinking of his ability to keep the town safe. His last thought on the subject was how, in the end, it would be clear that he was doin' a good job of enforcing the law and keeping the town safe. He had to believe that. He got in his police cruiser and drove home.
Emergency Meeting

The day after my classmates, Suzy and Sam Ingles, were found hanging from that stop light on Main Street there was a town hall meeting.

This emergency town hall meeting, as Mayor Tolson termed it was called by Barnsdall's normal channels: 1) Word of mouth and 2) and most important, it was announced over the police frequency. Ever'body knows most folks in our little town has one of those hand held scanners and listens intently to what comes across the airways; especially now after all that's happened. Word spread like wildfire.

Joe Tolson wanted to make sure ever'body still felt safe; well or to let them know they are still safe. Can you believe that? Only a politician would believe anyone in town would feel "safe" after these things had happened. Even Daddy had to admit that people were shakin' up pretty darn bad. I think even he was.

So the meeting was called down at the railroad tracks across from the post office. Seems Mayor Tolson believed there'd be quite a turn out, which there was, and he knew the small Barnsdall Town Hall wouldn't hold everybody. Lucky for us all it was a nice day.

Some of the City of Barnsdall employees had set up a podium on top of a flat bed trailer and had patched into the electricity at the school's bus garage to power the loud speakers sittin' at either end of the trailer. To me it looked more like a set up for a hog callin' contest than a "Town Hall Meeting".

As Mayor Joe Tolson stepped up onto the flat bed trailer he turned to give his wife Betsy a hand. She came along dutifully.

I've always thought it funny how politicians use their wives, or husbands could be used too I guess if the wife was the politician, and kids to ramp up their appeal. I mean they bring out they're family to say something like: "see I'm normal too, just like you", or "look how pretty my wife is... doesn't that make me more attractive", or "see... see... I have 2.3 kids too just like all you proletariats". But politicians aren't workin' class. At least that's how I see it. They just want us to believe they are so we'll follow them. Maybe I'm just pessimistic 'cause of some of the negative things the Mayor has said to my Daddy over the years?

When Joe stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat, he looked out upon a sea of people. It very well could have been the biggest gathering in Barnsdall history; even bigger than a Big Heart Day celebration. Seemed like there was most of the town folk there along with reporters and even folks from other towns just wantin' to know what was goin' on. It was quite a site.

My Daddy was to be part of the speech for the Mayor, that is that Daddy was gonna get up after the politician's opening remarks and help answer questions and concerns from the crowd, so Daddy, Johnny, Momma and I were back behind the trailer waitin' on Mayor Tolson's human sacrifice of Chief of Police John Long. I knew before Mayor Tolson opened his mouth that he wouldn't be takin' any responsibility for what was goin' on, suppose he shouldn't either, no rather he'd just duck and let the poop hit my Daddy right in the face. I was scared for Daddy, but when I looked over at him he looked just fine; not angry or scared. That made me feel better.

"Good day everyone," Mayor Tolson paused for a few people in the crowd to return the greeting; and of course for a couple of smartasses to say things like "what's good about it?" or "the good days seem to be behind us" or "I haven't seen a good day in a long while"; you know stuff like that.

"I'm glad we have such a good turnout to discuss the happenings in our town. This polarizing of our concern is a clear sign to me... and should be a clear sign to you all... that we are a strong community based town... that Barnsdall Oklahoma CAN... and indeed WILL get past the recent terrible events that have shocked... saddened... and enraged our community. There should be no doubt... in the mind of whoever is doing these terrible acts, that we... as a community... will not stand for it and that you will... here me now... here us all now... YOU WILL BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE!" Mayor Joe Tolson stepped back from the podium with a proud look on his face, and took his wife Betsy's hand and raised it to the sky. As expected the crowd roared in agreement. I didn't say Joe Tolson was a bad politician, he certainly knows how to rally the troops, just that well... I don't really care for politicians... not at all!

After a long moment of allowing the crowd to cheer, Mayor Tolson released Betsy's hand and stepped back to the podium slowly. He placed both hands on the side of the podium, looking like he was going to tip it over; gripping it hard. This was the politician's way of providing visualized anger; you know with his white knuckles and all.

"I want to thank you all... Betsy and I want to thank you all," Joe looked over his shoulder at Betsy with a teeth gleaming smile; she grinned a girlish grin and nodded her head dutifully. "We want to thank you for your commitment to our community and your desire to resolve these terrible things that have been happening in our wonderful town of Barnsdall! Indeed your commitment is the same that I have... indeed it is the same as your neighbors have... the same we all have!" With this, again, Joe stepped back from the podium, just slightly, to allow the crowd to applaud again. Of course, they did... but just a little shorter in duration this time.

Joe recognized he'd revved up the crowd enough now, he had them following him like whipped pups and was now ready to get down to business.

"With us all on the same page and moving in the right direction... I'd now like to introduce the man responsible for the safety of our community." Mayor Joe Tolson didn't mean this as a soft punt, but a direct statement that it's not him, but Chief of Police John Long that hasn't been doin' his job, and that John Long is still responsible going forward to resolve these murders. Joe thought he termed his words perfectly to "pass the buck".

"Let me introduce to you a man you all know well... our Barnsdall Chief of Police... John Long. Chief won't you come up and talk to the folks?" With this Joe Tolson waved his hand back and pointed the crowd to look back at Daddy down behind the flat bed trailer. Joe stepped to the side of the podium, then back beside Betsy; strategically holding her hand with a look of dire concern. It was a look that was purely meant to keep the crowd knowing Betsy and Joe were deeply involved and worried; such a good politician.

Daddy didn't use the steps leading up to the flat bed truck; he's tall enough just to step right up on it. He walked passed Betsy and Joe, towering above them. His opposing presence was not lost on the crowd as he was clearly "the man", "the lawman"; Chief of Police John Long... Big John Long.

"I'd like to start off by saying we are working hard to find the perpetrator of the recent crimes 'round here." Daddy sounded like a country bumpkin compared to Mayor Joe Tolson. One on one I think Daddy does a better job than Joe at talkin' to the town folk; you know 'cause he speaks their language better, after all he really is one of them. But in the forum Mayor Tolson picked, one by the way he surely knew would favor him, Daddy was at a clear disadvantage. He's just not that good of a public speaker.

"I'd also like to tell you that we intend to bring this person to justice and for these crimes to end quickly." Daddy looked out at the crowd; he thought he'd spoken the truth in a positive way, but what he got in return was a bit more than he expected.

"Workin' hard huh... end quickly huh?" Shouted someone in the crowd.

"What the hell does that even mean?" Shouted someone else.

"Sounds like he don't know who the hell did it," said another.

"That's right... he ain't got a clue," said another with an angry tone.

"Yeah!" Several people joined together on this, then the crowd went into loudly rumbling. I heard words like "dumb ass", "idiot", "Keystone Cops", "Barney Fife", "what about the children", "how can we ever feel safe again", and other stuff like that.

As this rumblin' went on for quite some time, Daddy just stood there without a movement. I looked over at Mayor Tolson and his perfect little wife and I swore... yes I swore I saw him grin just a little bit. I really think he was enjoying all this... I really do. He's just not a nice man. Not a nice man... and surely not an honest man.

Finally the crowd quieted down and Daddy began to speak again.

"We sure appreciate ever'one's cooperation with the investigation. I know my officers have been canvassing the area and interviewin' many folks. We'd also like to ask anyone that has any information to please contact us to let us know." Daddy paused and took a step back, seeming to say all he wanted. The crowd didn't like this.

"That's it," yelled someone from the back of the crowd. "That's all you've got... nothing... that's what you've got! You want us to let you know if we seen an'thing? You want us to contact you if we have some info?" Again the crowd began to rumble this time with more than anger, but laughter as well. It was kind of embarrassing, though I don't think Daddy was embarrassed. I think he was insulted. That wasn't the worst of it.

As Daddy started to step back to the microphone Mayor Tolson decided to take the opportunity to stick a knife in Daddy's back. Joe quickly stepped in front of Daddy and got to the microphone.

"Ok... ok everyone... now I know Chief Long's words weren't exactly... well comforting," Joe Tolson looked back over his shoulder, up at Daddy, with a look of disgust; then he looked back at the crowd with a proud grin. I could've pinched his head off... I really could have! Such a smart aleck.

"But hear me out now folks," the Mayor continued. "Hear me out now... I hope... no, no... I'm sure Chief of Police John Long here... Johnny come on up here again," Daddy took a reluctant step forward to stand next to Joe, as Joe put his hand on Daddy's shoulder. "I'm sure John here is gonna take good care of us all. He knows what's been going on is unacceptable and he knows his job and future career relies upon him catching this killer... and fast. Right Johnny?" Daddy didn't mask his contempt for Mayor Joe Tolson very well. He looked like he was about to through him right off the back a that flat bed trailer.

Daddy just leaned over to the microphone and said: "Yes."

"Good... good... see folks... John gets it." Mayor Tolson sounded so condescending towards Daddy. It was just awful... it sure was.

"Ok now why don't we have John answer some questions from the crowd... who's got a question for Chief Long?" Joe Tolson knew the questions that would be comin' wouldn't be very pleasant; and he seemed to revel in it.

"I've got a question Joe," said Frank Stanek, a local Veterinarian.

"Ok Frank, go right ahead," said Mayor Tolson while looking out into the crowd.

"I'd like to know what our Chief of Police knows... I want to know if he has any idea who might a done this, and what he intends to do about it!" Frank's voice got louder and more intense with every word he spoke, ending in a crescendo (another one of my recent spelling words c-r-e-s-c-e-n-d-o, meaning climax).

The crowd caught on to Dr. Stanek's intensity and the yellin' and rumblin' began again. Frank didn't help matters much when he turned around to the crowd and yelled: "Yeah... yeah... that's what I wanta know!" Right then he seemed more like a cheerleader than a Vet to me; certainly not worthy of Doctor anyways.

"Ok Frank... ok everyone... let's calm down now. Frank, I think that's a fair question, now let's let John answer it," Joe took a step to the side away from the podium and waved his hand to Daddy, showing him the way to the mic. "Your up Johnny," he whispered to Daddy (like a smartass I might add) as he did this. Daddy just glared at Joe.

"Well Frank," Daddy looked directly at the Veterinarian and spoke directly to him; ignoring the crowd really. "What I know is whoever's doin' these things is despicable. I also know that we will catch him and quickly." Daddy maintained a steady stare at Frank Stanek.

Frank looked confused. He obviously didn't want to have a direct argument with the Chief of Police, but he also felt his question wasn't answered... fully. Frank was pleasantly taken out of the hot seat by Margie Hunter.

"That doesn't tell us anything Chief," Margie yelled from somewhere about in the middle of the crowd.

"Yeah, that's nothin'... that don't tell us nothin'," shouted someone toward the rear.

"I agree, we're just gettin' the run 'round here," yelled someone else.

"Do you have any suspects or what?" Margie asked this time with a bit less of a mob mentality tone in her voice.

"Yeah what about it," shouted several different people, someone added a few cuss words in for good measure.

"That'll be enough a that cussin' ya'll... we got children here so let's cut that out," said Daddy in a calm but assertive way. I guess folks listened 'cause no one cussed again.

"Margie... to answer your question, we do have some individuals of interest at this point but it would be inappropriate to identify them as suspects. Our investigation will weed out who committed this soon." Daddy stepped back slightly from the microphone and immediately regretted it when Mayor Tolson weaseled in front of him to get to the mic.

"I'm not certain John has fully addressed the concerns of us all here... so are there any other questions... or comments." Joe had the most smug tone as he continued to artfully put Daddy down. Artful deception that's the definition of politics (or a politician)... it is really... look it up in the dictionary!

Anyways, the crowd continued to yell out negative things about Daddy's abilities, about how scared they were for their children, about how Daddy wasn't easin' folk's minds and stuff like that. Joe was eatin' it up... I mean he should a had a bowl and a spoon he was eatin' it up so much.

Then, just about the time I thought things were gonna come to an end, Henry Roland (he was right up near the front of the crowd) broke out and said: "What we really need... what would make us feel more comfortable... would be for some state and federal law enforcement experts to come out here and lead the investigation." The crowd burst out in approval.

"This is a pretty big crime spree for any town, not just a small town, and it looks like we might even have a serial killer on our hands... surely the feds and state police would be interested in puttin' a stop to this ASAP," added Mr. Roland for a bit more fuel to the fire.

"We can certainly see what we can do about that... you know I think Chief John Long could use all the help he can get," said Mayor Tolson loudly to the crowd.

"I don't want 'em helpin' John... I want 'em takin' over the case," replied Henry again with huge agreement from the crowd.

"We can see about having that take place as well," replied the Mayor with a quick glance, and grin, over at Daddy.

Daddy stepped forward, almost pushing Joe away from the microphone, and said: "I'll give you this ya'll... I'll give you my word... bringing in outside folks won't be necessary... I'll give you my word right here and now that we will catch this crazy S.O.B. and do it fast. Now my word's my bond and it's always been good enough for this town before. Anyone out there want to question my word?" The crowd remained completely silent, no one wanted to directly insult Big John Long... they knew better than ta' do that.

"Ok then... we'll have this crazy murderer caught and brought to justice before you know it, now let's let me and my officer's get back to work on it. Thank you all for coming." With that Daddy stepped off the back of the flat bed trailer and took my hand. We quickly walked back to the car, Daddy holding my hand and Momma carrying Johnny. We were out of there, but before we got in the car I heard the closing remarks from Mayor Joe Tolson.

"Ok ya'll... you heard him... Chief John Long is taking personal responsibility for our town's safety and he is guaranteeing... with his word and good name... that he will quickly catch this killer. I'll keep a close eye on his progress but leave it up to him... let's all leave it up to Big John for now. Thanks for comin' out." With those words from Joe Tolson the crowd slowly dispersed.

I could tell Daddy was on edge on the ride home. How could I tell? I could hear his teeth grindin' from the back seat. He didn't say a word.
An Arrest Is Made... All Is Well

My Daddy's always been good to his word. You might not like what he says he's gonna do, but you can pretty much bank on the fact that he will do it. I knew Daddy meant serious business when he told that huge crowd down at the railroad tracks to take him at his word. I knew it wouldn't be long until he rounded up the killer... and it wasn't.

Word travels real fast in Barnsdall but I still think I was one of the first to know that Daddy had nabbed the killer. Well, Momma, Johnny and I were the first to know anyways. See Daddy couldn't hold it in, he told us all about it at the dinner table that night... you know the night he made the arrest. He said it wasn't more than twenty minutes before, so I'm not even sure the media was fully aware of it.

It surprised me that Daddy didn't call a press conference or somethin', but I guess he figured he'd leave the politickin' to Mayor Tolson. His job was law enforcement and he was real proud 'bout the job he'd done. Momma didn't even lecture him about pride bein' a sin that evening at dinner; she just let Daddy have his time in the sun.

"We got the son of a bitch!" Daddy blurted this out just after putting a heaping fork full of mashed taters in his mouth.

"John... language please," Momma started with her normal routine.

"Oh gimme just a little slack tonight Katherine... I got 'im!" Daddy smiled so big I could see nearly all his teeth... and his mashed taters too. I hadn't seen a smile like that in a long while.

"Who'd you get? You mean you got the... you got the killer?" Momma sounded excited.

"That's right hon, your husband nabbed the fella with his own two hands," Daddy put his fork down and raised his two enormous mitts up opened palmed to his captive audience. Johnny mimicked Daddy by opening his little hands up and stretchin' his arms out. Daddy reached over and gave him a high five. "High fiiiiiive!" yelped Johnny with a big grin.

"You got him Daddy?" I asked already knowin' the answer... I just wanted to get into the fun as well.

"That's right Jessi... ah Jessica," Daddy put a piece of steak in his mouth and took a big swig of beer.

"How'd ya do it hon, where'd you find him?" Momma took the words right out of my mouth.

"Oh ya'll don't wanta hear 'bout my boring day at the office now do ya?" Daddy was playing coy and doin' a darn good job of it.

"Wha?" I said. "What office?"

"Honey your Daddy's just being smart... aren't ya honey... just bein' smart," Momma winked at Daddy as she rubbed my head.

"Oh I spose only a smart man could catch that killer ever'one's so damn scared of," Daddy replied while lookin' at his plate.

"Well I see a smart man right there... don't you Jessica?" Momma was flattering Daddy pretty hard. That normally doesn't work, but something told me tonight it just might.

"I sure do Momma... I sure do," I replied with a smile. I meant it too... at the time.

Daddy just kept eatin'; kept us waiting. I could feel the tension coming off of Momma, she was just dyin' to know what happened, and so was I.

"Come on John give us the scoop," Momma almost whined a little. I thought it was cute; usually she leaves the whining to the little folk.

"Yeah Daddy... give us the scoop," I put in my two cents worth as well.

"Alright, alright," Daddy said behind his napkin as he wiped his mouth. "By the way Katherine dinner's super."

"Thanks John now quit stallin', you've got our full attention so what happened?" Momma sounded almost overly eager.

I leaned forward in my chair to lend a good ear to what Daddy was about to say. I glimpsed over at Johnny and he was mimicking me by leanin' over as well; such a cutie.

"Well we'd made our list of plausible suspects... you know the regular trouble makers in town... the 'Bad Boys' so to speak. It was really just a matter of workin' that list until we hunted down the killer; wasn't really hard at all." Daddy leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head with a real proud look on his face.

"Details, details John... we want to know how you caught him," Momma blurted out loudly, surprising me. She's usually much more docile. She didn't yell she just sounded, well like she had to know what happened; like her life depended on it or something.

"Ok Katherine... ok... just relax," Daddy leaned forward in his chair and took a big swig of beer. He then got up and made his common trip to the cupboard for some whiskey. Only this evening something told me it wasn't stress driving him there; rather celebration.

I decided to return to eating. I figured I could listen with my ears while I ate with my mouth.

"Well I let my officers take the ones on the bad boy list that I really wasn't too concerned about. You know the guys that just drive fast 'round town or the ones that tend ta like to break little rules like playin' music too loud at parties and stuff like that. I figured they were harmless so I gave them to my officers. Hell I wouldn't want to risk Jerry or Eli actually gettin' too close to the killer; they'd probably get themselves shot or somethin'." Daddy laughed at this.

"What I did was I took the 'real' bad ones on the list and investigated them myself. I started with who I thought was the worst one and what a ya know? My gut was right... he turned out to be the killer... the very first one on the list I picked. Tell me that ain't some Sherlock Holmes'n!" Daddy slapped his hand down on the kitchen table and laughed a deep belly laugh. Johnny first jumped at the sound of the whack on the table, but then joined in with the laughter; we all did actually.

"So how'd you catch'em?" Momma sounded calmer now, but was still pushin' for details.

"I'm gettin' there Katherine... I'm gettin' there," Daddy looked over at me and rubbed my blond hair saying: "Your Momma sure is impatient tonight ain't she?"

I leaned away from Daddy as a subtle hint that I thought I was gettin' a bit too old for head pats, and said: "Yep," with a laugh. Momma didn't find it too amusing; she was just too wrapped up in her desire for details.

"Ok then... well," Daddy began eating again and talkin' with his mouth full.

"Where was I... Oh yeah... details, details, details." Daddy was so reveling in havin' Momma on the hook that he just didn't want to let go of his little game.

"John," Momma said softly but sternly. That brought Daddy back on point and he realized play time was over.

"Well like I said I picked him off the list. Al Clement... you may or may not know him Katherine."

Momma shrugged her shoulders and said: "I think I've heard of him, but never met 'im; I don't think".

"Well not meetin' him would be a good thing hon, 'cause even before this recent run of craziness he's pulled, he's always been a bad apple. Didn't fall too far from the tree really, 'cause his Daddy was one mean som' bitch as well." Daddy paused to see if he would get a scolding for fowl language, but Momma didn't want to delay with the story by interjecting moral outrage at this point.

"Yeah... well... like I was sayin', I picked him off the list and set out to find Al. Barnsdall ain't too big so it usually ain't real hard to find anybody ya know?" I noticed a gleam in Daddy's eye and a smile in his voice. He really seemed to be enjoyin' telling this story.

"Well finding Al would be an exception to the rule. He was actually kinda hard to track down. Of course I started with his place of residence; a run down old house down at the creek end of Birch Street, right over there Katherine... just right over there." Daddy pointed across the table, over the shoulder of Momma. Indeed Al Clement's run down house was just a hop skip and a jump from ours. That put a fright in Momma. I could tell by the look on her face.

"Goodness gracious," whispered Momma as she shook her head and glanced to the floor. I just stared at Daddy waitin' for the next bomb to drop.

"Well he wasn't there. He really doesn't have a workplace to find him at, as he just does odd jobs here and there fixin' toilets and mowing yards and stuff. So I checked down to the bar, where he's known to spend the good part of many days. No luck there either. I checked down at the coffee shop just in case, but nope." Daddy took a swig of beer and paused to eat a bit more of his meal. Momma didn't rush him this time but again I could feel the tension, to hurry up, comin' off of her. Johnny'd lost all interest in the story and had fallen asleep in his highchair.

"Mmm Katherine... good cookin' I tell ya," Daddy doesn't usually go on about how good Momma cooks, so he must've been in an extra good mood. I think he usually just believes it goes without sayin'. It does that's for sure, but I still think Momma likes to hear it now and again; and again.

"So I had a cup a coffee down the coffee shop, just to pause for a minute or two and let my mind work. Then it hit me!" Daddy's voice shot up in volume. Momma leaned forward in her chair looking totally riveted.

"I remembered seein' ole' Al down at the creek a few times when I'd wondered my way up stream when they weren't bitin'; you know looking for jus' the right spot to cast a line. I'd seen him about half way between Gar Bend and Big Hole. It's a place not fished much and you don't see a lot of people; guess that's why I remembered it. Sure seemed funny to see him there just about each time I wondered up there. Seems that might be his regular spot or somethin'?" Daddy fetched another beer from the fridge to aid him in his long journey of story tellin'.

"So I'ze down at the coffee shop and I thought... ah, what the hell, I'll just make my way down there to Bird Creek where I'd seen Al and maybe I'll get lucky. There's no quick way to get down where I was goin'. That's probably what drew a fella like Al down to it; not a lot of traffic... figurin' he don't like folks much. Well there's no roads leading right down to it and you can't get to it by boat do to the Big Hole rapids up stream and the several shallow spots down stream just past Gar Bend. No, if you're gonna go down there to Al's fishin' spot you're gonna have to hoof it. Drive you 'Footebakers' so to speak! Ha ha!" Daddy ruffled my hair as he said our little joke. He says when you have to walk somewhere's, when there's no other way to get there... your drivin' your Footebakers; kinda like Studebaker... get it? Well it was pretty funny to me at the time. We had quite the laugh.

Our laughing spread to Momma, and then Johnny woke up. I tell ya, most little kids that get woken up like that... well they wake up cryin'. Not Johnny though, he's such a good little brother, he just woke up and joined right in laughing with us. He didn't even know what he was laughin' at, he was just laughin'. That made me giggle even harder.

Momma was the first to stop chucklin'. I noticed this. She had her mind quickly switch back to finding out about the killer.

"Well I drove down to the field just before you reach Big Hole. You know the one I mean?" Daddy asked this question of us all, not really just Momma.

We shook our heads and Momma said: "Uh hu".

"I just figured I'd get less muddy walkin' through the field down to the creek where I'd seen Al, than to walk down the creek bank like I do when I'm fishin'. I know how you don't like cleanin' any muddy police uniforms Katherine." Daddy kind of smiled at this and then moved on as Momma didn't even really acknowledge the statement.

"As I made my way across the field I thought about what I might be facing. Al's not a particularly burly guy but he's always had that crazy look in his eyes... you know what I mean. I figured I could be in for just about an'thing; and I was prepared for the worst." Daddy leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. He looked angry all of a sudden.

"I had to put myself in a military state of mind. After all I could very well have been goin' into battle. I suppose a lesser man would have called in backup rather than facing the fire on his own." Daddy sounded prideful again.

It occurred to me that it wouldn't be a lesser man that would call in back up; but maybe a more responsible officer that was thinking of his family at home; that he had to take care of. An officer that wouldn't want to risk life or limb for bravado. I didn't dare say this though, and I kind of felt bad thinkin' it of Daddy; that he wasn't actin' right and all. Honor thy mother and father, right?

"I stepped lively as I crossed the field. I was on a mission and I'ze aimed to get busy right away. But, as I got closer to Al's fishin' spot I softened my foot falls quite a bit. I wasn't sneakin' or anything, that really ain't my way, but I wasn't wantin' to announce my arrival either. See, I figured a little surprise would be a good thing. If Al was even down there... I wasn't sure of that yet."

Surprisingly Momma got up at this point to poor herself some more iced tea. Daddy stopped talkin' for a moment but then resumed as Momma sat back down. Usually Momma asks if anybody else wants anything while she's up, but I think her mind was preoccupied 'cause she didn't ask this time. She did spill a little tea though and shouted out one of her famous sayings: "doggone it... got down and couldn't git up". I didn't laugh out loud, but I sure did on the inside.

"As I approached the creek bank I couldn't hear anything but birds and crickets and such. Usually when the creek's up you can hear the rapids of Big Hole from where I was, but that wasn't the case today; creek's runnin' fairly slow." Daddy made a little running water motion with his right hand just before he reached for his beer. After a big swig he continued.

"There's quite a drop off from the field down to the creek bank so I had the high ground. The high ground's always a good thing to have in a battle... that's for sure... and boy did I have it. It has to be a good twenty foot drop down there with a steep little cow path down to the bank, just on the edge of the water. I knew right away that if Al was down there I had him. See he would have nowhere to go that I couldn't put a good Smith & Wesson aim on 'im." Daddy smiled and patted his side where he normally holsters his .357 magnum.

"Long story short... he was there and he didn't even put up a fight. When I got him back to the station he just started blurtin' things out and confessin' ever'thing. Seems he worked alone and did it all. Crazy som' bitch!" Daddy shook his head and then took another gulp of beer, tossing the empty bottle into the trashcan across the room. As he got up and opened the frig to retrieve another beer I looked at Momma. She looked surprised.

"Just confessed... didn't even put up a fight or try to get away?" Momma sounded pessimistic. At the time, I didn't understand why.

"Nope," replied Daddy still looking in the refrigerator. He said it so plainly, as if it meant nothing.

"He just confessed without any pressuring or nothing?" Momma still wasn't convinced.

"Well Katherine... Policemen... well trained Policemen anyways, know how to gain a confession from a psycho killer." That tone of pride returned in Daddy's voice, again.

"What does that mean John?"

"Let's just leave it to the professionals honey... what's important is we got the SOB and that's that," Daddy smacked the palms of his hands together, sliding them over each other as if cleaning them. I guess he meant that Barnsdall was cleansed of Al Clement "psycho killer".

I felt a lot better now, though I'm not sure Momma did at the time. But after a while... after time passed and no murders continued to happen, I think Momma started feelin' better too.
Not Exactly A Month Of Sundays

The murders stopped cold. After Daddy "nailed" Al Clement, as he put it, there wasn't just no killings goin' on in Barnsdall; there really wasn't much of any crime to speak of at all. It was a great feeling. It was a good time in town.

With the lone murderer caught and incarcerated everyone felt safe again. It was back to our normal boring little Northeastern Oklahoma town.

I heard some folks down at the coffee shop talkin' 'bout how they felt safe at night again. I heard other folks down to the Barnsdall Market that said they didn't even bother lockin' their doors 'cause Big John had brought back justice to our community... no not justice, that's not what they said... they said safety, yeah that's it safety.

It was nice to hear good things about my Daddy after such a long while of all that negativity. It's hard for a kid to hear such bad things about their father. It's a no win situation. I mean you want to defend your Daddy when people say mean things, but there's no convincing them of otherwise, so you really just can't win. It's a fight with no chance of victory. It's quite disheartening really. Know what I mean?

Anyways, things went back to normal in Barnsdall and at our house. Momma went back to her normal jobs, such as: cooking, shopping, cleaning and complainin' 'bout my Daddy's cussin'. I went back to school where the kids treated me a lot better now that Daddy caught that Al fella. Johnny went back to... well being little Johnny, not that he'd ever changed. And Daddy... Daddy went back to bein' himself. That is that he went back to complainin' over dinner, and sometimes breakfast, about his police work and all the lawbreakers. The difference was, and I really think even he noticed, that his complaints were quite trivial now. I suppose anything pales in comparison to what we'd all just been through. Murder... multiple murders, in a small town can sure put things in perspective; and right fast too.

For a while... well a little while anyway... right after Daddy nailed Al Clement, he almost seemed... happy. Daddy started to seem more like a father to me than a silent film star. What I mean is that he started to talk to me, and not just about police work. He seemed to come out of his shell and open up. It was a great time. But... it didn't last. I suppose it couldn't last. Daddy's just not that kind of man. That is he's not a talkative man, not the kind of man to teach his children; not in the strict sense of the word teach. I think Daddy more believes in that everyone has to pay their own dues and that's how they learn; from their own mistakes. I like to think that as opposed to just thinking he doesn't really care enough to get involved in my life. Sometimes I think that anyway though. At least I felt like he was keeping us safe. Not just our family, but the whole town of Barnsdall Oklahoma.

Miss Jennings bent my ear one day about her thoughts on the terrible murders in town. As usual I just listened... couldn't have gotten a word in edgewise if I wanted to.

"Your Daddy sure did save us Jessi... he sure did," Miss Jennings sounded so serious. I mean she had sweat comin' off her brow and she sounded short of breath just with these few words. I nodded my agreement.

"Folks in town are real happy now. They were so scared before, you know 'bout the killings. I mean who wouldn't be right. I wasn't scared though, well not really, no I was sure Big John would take care of ever'thing. I was sure he wouldn't let us down, and he didn't, no he sure didn't," Miss Jennings rambled off her words so quickly and her tone was high pitched. She seemed more like she was trying to convince herself of her statements than that she believed them though. Something told me the truth was that she was very scared when the killings were goin' on. I remember that she didn't come over to the house very much while they were goin' on. In fact, I'm not sure she even left her house very much at all during that time. I think Miss Jennings was holed up under the covers of her bed with the blinds pulled; hiding. I can't say for sure but that's what I think.

"Were you scared Jessi? Well of course you were, I mean what child wouldn't be after what happened to those poor kids, and right on Main Street like that, just awful. Did you know those kids? Well of course you did, I mean this is such a small town ever'body knows ever'body don't they. I hope you're in better spirits now like I am. Are you? Well of course you must be." Miss Jennings went on like this for a while asking questions of me then answering them herself. It was the normal easy conversation with her; you just have to be quiet and let her do all the talkin'.

"I think Katherine, your Momma's much calmer now. I mean I think she was pretty upset by the whole thing don't you? I mean she was upset about all the murders but when those two kids about your age were killed, your Momma seemed to get real worried. I was too, worried for you Jessi, but I know you're a big girl and smart too. You know how to stay outa such trouble don't you? Well of course you do, having a Daddy, a Chief of Police for a Daddy must really help in spottin' lunatics and stayin' away from them, huh? Yeah it sure must, I mean he must teach you lots of good things to know about life, like who the bad folks are and to stay away from them, yes steer completely clear of 'em, right? Yeah that must be how it is." Miss Jennings went on and on; hadn't taken a breath in several minutes. She just kept on running from one thing to the next and sweating. Goodness she was sweating... more than usual even. You notice stuff like that when it's so obvious.

"So really Jessi how are you? Oh, you look fine so you must be doin' pretty good... " Miss Jennings rambled and rambled. I never was able to answer any of her questions, but I still think she thought we had a great conversation. That's just her way ya know.

***

Several months went by... maybe more... and with the murders stopped, even walkin' home from school was acceptable again. I don't think Momma worried much about it, but something told me, in the back of her mind, she would always worry 'bout me.

I usually tried to walk home with my bestest friend Heather. We always have a good time together. Funny how we never really talked about the murders. In fact few people seemed to talk about them. Oh they'd mention the killings but not in any great detail. It was as if they just wanted to put those bad things in the past, forget them, pretend like they really didn't happen at all, like they were just part of a bad dream or somethin'. It seemed odd to me, but I guess human nature is to... well deny... fall in to denial in situations like that. I guess? It just didn't seem to work for me though. Maybe it was because I felt closer to the whole thing than some other folks. You know 'cause my Daddy being the Chief of Police and all. I was just more involved in it from the start I guess; and certainly in the end... unfortunately.

Well Heather and I, we would skip home and play our little tricks on the boys. We'd take the long way if we could get away with it. We seemed to find a new long way every day, though it don't take too awful long to run out of ways to get somewhere's in the big town of Barnsdall.

There were days when we'd stay up by the school and watch football practice and there were days when we'd make our way down to Big Hole and watch the rapids flow. Sometimes we'd head off into the woods and go into Skeleton Cave; that's down on the other side of the creek from my house. You have to cross the bridge over into Wrangle Heights and then make your way back up the creek bank for a while. It's a... well a medium sized cave that's all rock. Of course it looks like a skeleton, that's where it got its name. It's real cool and just a little scary at night; well that's what I've heard, 'cause I wouldn't dare go down there at night. Heck I got in enough trouble on the days I went down there during the day; you know 'cause I'd be so late home after school, Momma would be pretty upset but she'd get over it quick.

There was a calmness about the town. Most folks seemed to be in real good spirits. I know I was. Heather was too and we made the most of our walks home together.

Lookin' back now, I remember how startled I was when I figured out that those walks with Heather; those long walks home that seemed like they'd go on forever, were the last carefree walks I'd take for a long time.

Funny how when you're young you just think all things will carry on and be the same. Momma tells me life is change and part of growin' up is learning how to deal with change and... and especially how to deal with loss; as loss is simply the worst kind of change. I get it... believe me I get it, but I just don't want to get it. I guess what I'm saying is I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then.

During the carefree walkin' home days, as I like to think of them, I noticed so many good things; heck even flowers smelled better. But I suppose the thing I noticed the most was how well the other kids at school treated me. Even folks down to the Barnsdall Market or the Post Office or coffee shop seemed to treat me... well better than before. It still bothered me that my likability would rise or fall dependin' on how the folks in town felt my Daddy was doin' his job as Chief of Police. That has always stuck in my craw.

I never felt like I've had more friends in my life, true friends, than during those days. Seemed like Daddy was a hero and I was gettin' kudos just for being related to him. Like some of his mojo must have rubbed off on me, you know like through genes or somethin', or maybe even just bein' 'round him so much.

I chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth ya know. I knew that the first time Daddy did something folks didn't like... well I'd become unlikeable again too. So I just accepted that folks were treatin' me good and tried not to get too wrapped up in it. Although, let me tell ya, it's hard; it's real hard not to want things to always be the same when you're liked. You just want things to go on bein' good for ya, know what I mean? Of course you do, as Miss Jennings would say.

Another thing I really enjoyed about those days was how Momma seemed to be so happy and relaxed. Miss Jennings was right about that, that Momma seemed calmer. I think she feeds off of Daddy's emotions a lot. I 'spose that's part of a wife's job? I don't get that at all.

Seems when Daddy's in a good mood so's Momma; just as much so. And when Daddy's in a bad mood... well Momma gets all flustered. Not like I get flustered, you know just kind of sick of Daddy's behavior. No, Momma gets more like... sad or something. Maybe it's more frustration, yeah that's probably a better way to put it... frustrated. Momma wants Daddy to be happy and she gets frustrated 'cause she can't make him happy. She tries to keep him in line by scolding him for cussin' at the same time she praises him for keeping our town safe. Momma tries too hard really. That's what I think. I think she should just let Daddy work it out himself. But then again, maybe without Momma as a calming force, Daddy would get real bad? Maybe Momma ain't to blame for how good or bad Daddy is; maybe she is to blame. Sometimes my mind gets crossed up on that one. I do think she enables him quite often though. E-n-a-b-l-e, meaning to make possible or to cause. In fact I know she enabled him.

I don't think Johnny knew the difference between those good days and the bad ones; just too young to know really. That's good for him. Ignorance is bliss. He's not too impacted by what happened back then, during the killings or the good days. He's not too impacted now either. He was just too young to grasp what was goin' on. I sometimes envy Johnny for that. Yes, I know that's one of those seven deadly sins... but I do envy at times.

Yes, I enjoyed those carefree days. But... as most things... they couldn't last. Sometimes, when I want to go to a happy place in my mind, I drift back to then. Back then ever'thing made sense; things were in order... good order. Momma and Daddy seemed to be happy... we seemed to be a family in the best way.

I agree with Momma change is part of life. Even good change can be hard to get accustomed to, but when the change is completely negative it makes things extra hard. I often feel I'm still too young to be so against change... but change sucks!

***

Out of the blue... Bam! Just like that. It started up again.

Survival Of The Fittest

As told to me by Angie (well most of it), the daughter of volunteer fireman,

Manny Phillips, first responder to the emergency

Rich old man William Countryman, Billy if you're his friend (of just bein' disrespectful otherwise), spends a lot of time at the bar; a LOT of time. With all his money from his many diverse business endeavors you'd think he could find somethin' better to do with his time. But then, money don't necessarily make you happy. If there's ever a man that proves that idea it's Billy.

Billy tries; he tries real hard to get rid of his money. He likes to donate it. But he ain't no philanthropist, nope, he gives his money to the tip jar and to the hefty bar prices on beer and whiskey. He likes to buy rounds for the whole bar... in his own way he likes to buy his friends. He's a stubborn man, he's a bitter man. Billy believes people are generally born evil. That is that they aren't worth much except for their base desires and wants. And greed... oh greed... Billy believes this drives most folks. Maybe he's right, but all his work to capitalize on that seven deadly sin hasn't won him any friends over the years. Well no real friends anyways.

Yeah, sure Billy's ways have won him lots of money and toys (immature fools have to have their toys, he particularly likes collecting guns... big guns... that should tell ya somethin' right there). But, Billy hasn't won any followers to his ways. Oh sure Billy's got people he thinks are friends. He's got those mooches that are always lookin' for a free shot of Bourbon or a pint of lager. He's got the young girls, under age, that brush up against him if he'll just buy them a bottle or a case or whatever they desire that night. Billy's got huntin' buddies that really only put up with his arrogant attitude because he takes them on those all expense paid hunting trips to Alaska or Canada or where ever they want to go; usually the most expensive place they can think of.

But in reality Billy has nothing. He has no support, no one that would be there for him if things went bad. Well except for his sweet wife at home. The wife that loves William Countryman with all her heart, but the same person he leaves alone most nights and most of the time really. See Billy's the type of fella that once he pins down havin' something; well he just don't want it no more. He's that type.

Billy's best friend resides just below the ice in his glass. He spends his time and money on that friend. He just drinks away his life... and wife. Billy's sweet little wife, who he never calls by name, just wife; stays at home as he does his thing.

He particularly likes to get liquored up and hit on the young girls at the bar. We're not talkin' 'bout smooth woman's man passes either. No we're talkin' 'bout blunt obnoxious, creepy old man hitting on cute young things. Billy likes 'em real young too, that's why he's always buyin' those underage girls alcohol. Hell he doesn't even make them pay for it.

Billy likes to flash his money clip. He carries too much cash to fit it in a billfold. He has this gold plated money clip with diamond studs on it.

"What's your fancy tonight darlin'," Billy would say to any little young thing that wanted him to buy her some booze. His money clip would be sparklin' in the neon bar lights, surrounding the fat, fat green of mostly hundreds. Billy enjoyed using big bills in Barnsdall. He liked to hear people say to him: "Sorry we don't have enough change to break that sir". Then Billy would just say: "Keep the change then". He gloated in that; pride beaming off him.

Late that night, or should I say early in the morning after the bar closed, William "Billy" Countryman was makin' his foggy way to his perfect Cadillac sitting just across the street from the bar. It was a closing time like many, many others for Billy. He'd stumble out of the bar drunker than a barrel full of monkeys and get in his immaculate Cadillac and drive home; drunk!

Billy wasn't one of those fellas that even thinks he drives better when he's drunk. He's a terrible driver sober (which is rare), but far worse when he's taken in a wee bit too much of the creature, if you know what I mean. It's a wonder Billy hadn't ever killed somebody as he swerves all over the place. He's come close to hittin' a few cars now and again, but folks around town know better than to drive near that Cadillac after the bar closes down. Quite surprising he hasn't been picked up by the police either.

Billy Countryman believed his influence could keep him out of jail and his money could buy him out of any fender benders. He's probably correct on both accounts; and that's a shame.

But we won't have ole' William Countryman to worry about no more. Nope, see as Billy was makin' his way across the street, from the bar, to his Cadillac that night... well let's just say he didn't make it.

Apparently William was struck by a car dead on. I believe they call that irony; a habitual drunk driver getting struck, as a pedestrian, by another (likely) drunk driver. Who else would be out drivin' at that time of night except folks comin' home from the bar? And to make matters even worse it was a hit and run; so we really don't know what happened, just that ole' William was DOA.

From the looks of the crime scene he was thrown quite a ways by the impact. He was probably dead before he hit the ground though; quite a hit he took.

Basically the crime scene was like this: First thing you might notice was that there were no skid marks; none what so ever. Sort of puts into question an accident don't it?

Second thing that really stood out was how William Countryman's shoes were right in the middle of the street; all by themselves. Odd to see a five hundred dollar pair of Italian loafers just sittin' there. You'd think they'd have flown one way or another. Not surprising that William was knocked out of them, just that they were sitting together all neat and tidy in the middle of the street; strange.

As for William Countryman... well he was a mess... a complete mess. He must've been hit at least forty-five or fifty miles an hour; which is odd for a true accident bein' the speed limit right there is twenty-five; and a stop sign isn't too far away. But then again, drunks don't usually know how slow or fast they're goin', nor obey stop signs; and that's gotta be what it was, a drunk. Right?

Starting at the bottom, of course, William was in his stocking feet. He must've been clipped right about knee height 'cause his legs were bent in inhuman directions. The pelvis must've been smashed as well. Both arms were broken and a collar bone; probably from the impact with the ground.

The worst part was that... well William Countryman's head was spun almost completely around. His neck was obviously broken and his head just spun right around about one hundred and eighty degrees. Terrible sight, it was. His eyes were kind of bugged out and his tongue was clenched between his teeth; though not bitten off. Even with his mouth sort of open and his tongue and teeth showin', he seemed to have the smallest hint of a smile on his face. At least he went out happy; if that's a proper thing to think.

It wouldn't have to be a closed casket burial, but the undertaker would have his work cut out. One of those expensive tailored suits William had would probably cover up most of the damage, but it would still take a lot of spackle and tape to put humpty dumpty back together again. What a way to go!

Now no one's jumpin' to any conclusions... yet. It's not been decided whether this was a drunk driver hit and run or was another murder; spose' that's up to Chief of Police John Long to ultimately decide. But... with no skid marks at all, it could very well be another murder. Lot's of crime scene work to be done before a final conclusion can be drawn.

***

This hit and run thing seemed to really put a big concern into Daddy; maybe even more than the folks in town. I think the people in Barnsdall just wanted to believe it was a simple accident; a drunk gettin' hit by another drunk. It happens all the time right? I mean drunk drivers kill people everyday in America. There's no reason to think it was another in the string of murders we'd been havin' in town. Right?

It was so odd about town. I mean no one was hardly talking 'bout Billy's death at all. They didn't want to talk about it, think about it, or even believe it happened. Well that is happened as a murder anyways. Folks just wanted to chalk it up to late night drinkin' and drivin'. It couldn't happen to good folks that don't burn the midnight oil and frequent bars. Right? No it could only happen to the late night drunks; that is getting hit by a drunk driver, Lord knows Al Clement didn't mind if it was day or night. Did he?

Yeah the folks in town just chalked up William Countryman's plight to a sad accident. But I don't think it was that simple to Daddy. Like I said, he seemed pretty darned concerned about it; about what it could be.

"Daddy... what do you really think happened to that Countryman fella? I asked this just a few minutes into dinner.

"Jessi... ah Jessica, we're workin' to figure that out," Daddy paused from eating for a moment but didn't look up from his plate.

"Do you think you'll catch who did it?" I was hoping for some answers.

"Jessica honey, please let your Daddy eat in peace now," Momma said politely but it still annoyed me a little.

"It's ok Katherine... what do you think Jessica?" Daddy sat his fork down on his plate and picked up his beer.

"Oh Daddy, I think you always get your man. Right?"

"We sure try honey... we sure try," Daddy said as he ruffled my hair. I was gettin' so tired of that.

"What do you know so far? Was it an accident? Did the guy just drive off? Could it be..." Momma interrupted me before I said it.

"Jessica eat up now; that's just too many questions for dinner time." Momma didn't want to hear my concern that it could be the restart of the murders. How could it be? Al Clement was in jail. Surely that was the end of that.

"It's ok Katherine... really. Jessica, we know William Countryman was hit real hard, most likely by an automobile. We know he was three sheets to the wind and walkin' in the middle of the street. We know we can't find any witnesses and we know that makes figurin' all this out a lot harder. We know it could have been an accident, but then leavin' the scene of an accident escalates it to a serious crime. That's what we know so far."

"Yeah Daddy but was it murd...," again Momma interrupted me.

"Jessica!" Momma shouted, which was odd for her. "Don't say such things... don't even think them." Her face was growing pink.

"I'll just put it to ya this way Jessica...," Daddy got up and started to walk toward his whiskey cupboard. "... whether it was an intentional murder or a hit and run drunk driver at bar closing time, it was still a death in town. In my town!" Daddy sounded mad... real mad.

With Momma yellin' at me and Daddy getting angry, I thought it was a good time to stop askin' questions. Daddy had his whiskey and I went back to eating, so did Johnny. Momma just stared at me for what felt like a lifetime. She was glaring at me really; I could feel her stare as I kept my eyes focused on my plate.

I'll tell ya, I was just as scared for Daddy as I was about the murder's startin' back up. He seemed so concerned about the whole thing.
Wear and Tear

It was quite the transformation. Daddy went from showing virtually no stress to mucho stress, just the day after the hit and run incident. While the town folk were ready to move on and label it as a tragic accident, it just wasn't that simple to Daddy. He let it eat him alive.

I was out back playin' with my doggy Hank when I heard some commotion in Daddy's work shed; like bangin' around in there. As I got closer I heard Daddy talkin'. At first I thought he was talking to someone; but then I realized he was talkin' to himself; ranting really.

"Was it murder? Was it an accident? What do people think? What will people think?" Daddy's voice had great concern in it.

"Does it even matter? It don't... no it can't... it don't matter... it's still another death in Barnsdall... in my town! In the town I'm paid to protect. How could I let this happen?" Just then is sounded like Daddy was bangin' pots and pans together. He must've kicked somethin' like an oil pan; sounded like it was bouncing across the floor of his work shed. I continued to listen; bein' real quiet.

"What can I do? Where can I go with this investigation? No witnesses! I suppose that's a good thing? No one to think anything but that it was an accident; well an accident with some dumbass drivin' off and makin' it into a hit and run. How do things get so far out of hand? Why do I let things get so far out a hand?" Daddy almost sounded like he could cry, though I doubted he ever did.

I heard Daddy open his mini frig and a pop of the top. I was pretty sure he wasn't drinkin' any of those Pepsi colas he kept in there for me. No he was puttin' the beers away. Seems the more drinkin' he does the more upset he let's himself get. It's scary sometimes; a lot of times. As I'd gotten older I realized I wasn't so scared of Daddy when he was drunk, but scared for Daddy. He just didn't seem to be able to control himself when he got like that. I sometimes felt like I was the parent and he was the child. He sure could behave like a juvenile delinquent sometimes.

Again, I love my Daddy, but I just can't help but feel like he's... well a hypocrite. Yeah, I know that sounds just awful and that I'm sinnin' when I say it, but... doggone it, it's the truth! I mean he preaches so loudly about followin' the law and actin' right, but then he turns right around and does the opposite. I think he believes 'cause he's a lawman that he can break some laws; you know 'cause he's working' so hard to keep us all safe that he should get a pass on some things. That may be true, but it ain't right. Right?

It got real quiet in Daddy's work shed for several minutes. I almost started to go back in the house when I heard Daddy scream out: "What's it all matter!" Then there was some more bangin' around.

"Hell why should I care what anybody thinks anyways!" Daddy's voice was goin' back and forth in the shed. He must've been pacing frantically. "I know what I'm doin' is right! I know that I'm keepin' Barnsdall safe. Everybody knows I caught that Al Clement. Hell he even confessed. What more do they want from me? Why can't they just leave me alone and let me do my job." It occurred to me that, to my knowledge, no one had been bugging Daddy about the hit and run accident. Why did he feel people wouldn't leave him alone about it? Maybe I didn't know what he was goin' through at work? That would be odd, 'cause he almost always talks about it at the dinner, or breakfast, tables. Heck it'd only been a day since the incident. How much complaining could Daddy have heard in a day? It was sure weighin' on him though.

"I'm headed in the right direction... I'm doin' the right things... people know that... deep down folks know that!" Daddy sounded like he was pretty close to convincing himself ever'thing would be all right.

I have to agree with Daddy. I did think he was doing the right things. I believed in him at the time. I believed he was on the right track.

Daddy went on and on like that for a while, talkin' to himself. He got pretty repetitive so I slipped back in the house. I was sure he never even knew I was there.

Momma was in the house cuttin' up some chicken to fry. Daddy always said Momma gets a good scald on her chicken; and believe me, he's right! Best I've ever had.

Usually cookin' put Momma in a good mood but not that day. Seemed her and Daddy caught the same ole' worry bug. Some folks, some married folks that is, might have sat down together and discussed their concerns about what was goin' on; but not my Momma and Daddy, not this time anyways. No instead they went to separate ends of their universe to work it out on their own; work it out or let it eat them up; at that moment I really couldn't tell which they were accomplishing.

"So what's for dinner Momma?" I meant it as a joke as I could plainly see it was her famous fried chicken.

"Jessica... honey... what does it look like I'm cooking?" Momma didn't really snap at me, no she sounded more drained than mad, but her words still cut deep. I read them to say: "get on out of the kitchen girl and let me be".

"Oh, Momma's I'ze just kiddin', I can see what you're cookin'. Need any help?"

"Not today Jessica, why don't you go out back and play with Hank for a while... Momma needs a few minutes alone." She sounded so sad.

"I was just out back playin' with Hank." I didn't mean this as disagreement with her, but just after I said it I realized she was gonna take it that-a-way.

"Did I ask you if you'd been playing with Hank? No I didn't. I asked you to go play with Hank. Now do as your told Jessica." She didn't even look up from the chicken; she just talked with her head down. She didn't yell or nothin', she just spoke right to the chicken!

"Ok, ok... goodness," I said as I made my way back out the door from which I came. I was kind of surprised at Momma shooin' me away like that, but figured she deserved a break with all the stress her and Daddy must be under. So... I didn't hold it against her.

But... I also didn't do what she told me to. I'd had enough playin' with Hank. Instead I made my way down to the creek bank and pitched some rocks for a while. Long enough that I thought Momma would be in a better mood when I went back home; and Daddy would be done... well done talkin' to himself.

I sat down at the creek not feelin' too sorry for myself, but sorry enough to think about it I guess. It occurred to me that grown ups sure do seem to take out their problems on other people, especially kids. Oh they say they want to be alone to think, you know work things out, but they say it so mean. And anyways, all their really doin' is saying to the kids: "get away kid... you bother me!" That's what kids hear... or that's what I heard.

The more I thought about it the more upset I got. Then it struck me that that's just what grown ups do; at least the grown ups in my house. Like Daddy for instance, talkin' to himself. I'm sure he was upset before he started talkin' out loud, but he seemed to get more and more upset as he actually spoke the words; like he was just purposely workin' himself up into a frenzy.

Well maybe it wasn't purposely, but it sure seemed to have a purpose. Like maybe older folks have to get sad, and then get mad, before they can get happy again. I don't know about that but Momma says things are more "complicated" as you get older. Things seemed complicated enough right then as a kid. She was right though... things did get more complicated as time went by. A whole lot more complicated.

As the sun made its way behind the trees I thought I'd make my way back up to the house; whether Momma wanted me there or not. I sure didn't want the fried chicken to get cold. Although Momma's fried chicken is good hot or cold. But it's always better fresh right out of the fryin' pan, don't ya think?

Dinner was tense to say the least. I mean you could just feel the concern coming off both Momma and Daddy. Johnny was his normal chipper self though; that was quite refreshing considering the other company. No one said a word for the longest time. After a while I just couldn't stand it so I decide to break the silence.

"Mmm Momma... you sure got a good scald on this chicken," I used the exact words Daddy often uses. I wondered if he noticed.

"Hmm... what?" Momma must've been deep in thought 'cause she apparently didn't even hear me. Her tone said: "why did you interrupt me... I'm tryin' to think over here?" Daddy didn't say a word. Johnny yelled out "chickEEEEen"!

"Quiet Johnny," said Daddy only looking up from his plate to his beer.

"I said the chicken's real good Momma," I looked at her but she didn't look back.

"What... oh... ah... yeah, yes," Momma said under her breath, more at the food on the table than to me. She didn't look up either.

"So you want to hear 'bout what Heather got for her birthday?" I was just tryin' to break the ice. I wanted some chatter at the dinner table.

"Not really... no," said Daddy real quiet; not authoritative like he normally sounds, more like he was asking a question.

"John! Where's your manners," Momma had snapped out of her state of unconsciousness quickly when she had to the opportunity to scold Daddy on manners.

"What? Jesus Christ Katherine," Daddy tossed a chicken leg down on his plate and began wiping the grease off his hand with his napkin. He looked like he was preparing for something. He was.

"John... language," For some reason I found this humorous and laughed out loud at Momma's scolding. That didn't help things much.

"Ya know Katherine... sometimes..."

I thought POW right in the kisser, or was it one of these days POW right in the kisser? What ever.

"... sometimes I just think you spoil that one too much," Daddy bobbed his head in my direction as he said this. I thought hay I'm right here ya know.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Momma's voice was high pitched and ready for battle.

"I mean you want to let her just run off at the mouth... sometimes kids are better seen than heard." Daddy's perspective was sometimes insulting; often insulting.

"John she was just wanting to talk about her friends birthday gift!"

"My bestest friend," I added; which was a mistake.

"See what I mean Katherine... don't you correct your mother again," said Daddy with a piercing stare.

"Oh John she wasn't correcting me; just adding to the conversation... goodness." Momma and Daddy were talkin' about me as if I were not even there. It was weird.

To tell you the truth; I was correcting Momma, though I shouldn't have been. I suppose all the stress coming off of Momma and Daddy was just impacting me too. I was starting to feel frustrated and was correcting Momma; for no good reason. But Heather is my bestest friend ya know!

"Katherine... let's just have a quiet dinner for once," Daddy's voice demanded. It was not an option; at least Daddy thought so.

"Well well well... Big John Long wants a quiet dinner," I knew with Momma's tone now that Daddy was in for some trouble.

"That's right Katherine," Daddy said sarcastically.

"John... I'll tell you this..." Momma had a tone of voice I rarely heard. It was a voice of pure force. "... John it's none of us that usually make dinner something other than 'quiet'. No it's not us at all; instead it's you... Big John Long, Chief of Police of the big town of Barnsdall that chatters away during dinner. We just sit and politely listen to your ranting and raving about how hard your job is day in and day out. That's what usually makes dinner time... not quiet!" Momma may have gone a bit far, but when you keep things bottled up the way she does it's bound to come spillin' out sometime; and probably more than you hoped to spill when it does.

"Just what the fuck is that supposed to mean huh? I'm botherin' ya'll? Ya'll just can't stand to hear me talk huh?" Daddy's words were obviously defensive, and his voice sounded hurt.

"That's not what I'm saying John and you know it."

"Well that's what it sounds like to me," Daddy got up and took a long stride to his whiskey cupboard.

"John we're all under a lot of stress right now. Let's not make things worse by fighting amongst ourselves. Ok?"

"Well then don't use fightin' words Katherine if you ain't up for a fight," Daddy blurted out just before a shot of whiskey. The first of three in a row I counted.

I thought to myself about how sure, there was stress about the possibility of that hit and run being another murder. But... I didn't feel a lot of stress until Momma and Daddy started bickerin'. I thought about how goofy adults can be; ignorant really. They didn't even realize they were really the ones causing the most stress; not the circumstances. They were the ones with their fighting and arguing that upset dinner; at least for me anyways. Johnny wasn't bothered; he just smiled through the whole thing.

"John do you have to do that?" Momma couldn't let it go. She had to take the opportunity to scold Daddy on his whiskey consumption. She must have been makin' up for missing the scolding on the "F" word.

"I'm a big boy Katherine... I can handle my liquor," Daddy replied sarcastically with just a slight slur to his voice. After all, I think he'd been drinkin' beer most of the evening and I know I counted three already during dinner... that's in addition to the whiskey.

"Well John you should be able to handle your liquor... you must have quite the tolerance built up by now," Momma said this softly but quickly. I think she realized she went too far right after she said it.

"What the hell Katherine! Now it's not just my talkin' it's who I am as a person too?"

"You think drinking is who you are as a person?" Momma had a good point with that question. I hoped that wasn't how Daddy defined himself; well beyond being a lawman.

"No Katherine... but it just looks like your nitpickin' me to death tonight," Daddy said with another shot.

"Well maybe I have a bad day sometimes too John. Did you ever think of that? Huh!" Momma started cryin' and then ran back to Momma and Daddy's bedroom.

"Well Daddy... you do drink a lot." I don't know why I said this. I don't even remember thinking it before the words came out. I've learned now that speakin' before you think usually is a recipe for disaster. But surprisingly, the hands of fate were kind to me this time.

"Drinking's good for the soul Jessi." That's all he said to me. He didn't yell at me. He didn't scold me. He didn't tell me to shut up. His whole point of view was that his drinkin' was good for him. I guess it was an escape from reality for him; an escape from his stressful job maybe? Maybe more.

Momma didn't come out of her room the rest of the night. I went ahead and took it upon myself to clean up the dishes. Daddy took it upon himself to finish off both the whiskey he had in the cupboard and the beer that was in the frig. Don't worry though, he always has a stash out in his work shed, ya know in his mini frig. He won't go without tomorrow if he can't make it to the liquor store.

I also put little Johnny to bed. I felt like I was the parent and Momma and Daddy were a couple of unruly teenagers. My respect for them was shaken pretty bad that night. But that shake was just a minor shock compared to the earthquake that was to come.

Sometimes today I try to put myself in Momma's shoes, but back then I was just caught up in the moment I guess. What I mean is that sometimes it's hard to see exactly what's goin' on when you're in the heat of the moment. Momma calls it hind sight's 20/20.

I have to say I don't believe in that hind sight bein' 20/20 thing. I mean sure you know more when you can look back at something, 'cause it already happened... duh! But the truth is I don't know a whole lot about why things happened back then like they did. Sure I have my ideas, but I just can't get myself to let my mind wander that far. It's probably best. Deep down inside I probably don't want to know why or how it came to be. I probably couldn't take it; maybe after more time goes by.

Anyway... Momma's and Daddy's shouldn't be fightin'. At least not in front of their kids! I don't know if they just couldn't help themselves or if they simply didn't care, but I doubt they can grasp just how much of an impact it had on me.

Ya know what? It's really strange the way grown ups seem to forget what it's like to be a kid. I mean they were kids once too. Right? I mean surely they can understand how a kid feels; what a kid needs from their parents. But they don't. At least it doesn't seem like they do. No parents more act like their kids are some alien beings that are a complete wonder to them. Like the kids are different from them. We're not really different. I suppose unless something happens when you get older and you change so much that you can't even fathom who you were when you were young.

That might be it right? That at some point, after so much time has gone by in your life; well... you just can't remember far enough back to what it was like to be a child. No... that can't be it. Well... we'll see. Somethin' tells me I'll never forget those sad events that were to come.

What started the fightin'? Was it really the killings in town or was it something more than that? I didn't know at the time. What I did know was that, murder or not, that hit and run was disturbing. I mean really... when will the dying stop? Or maybe a better way to put it is when will the killing stop? When will Daddy (Chief of Police, Big John) make it stop?

A Stressful Day

As I overheard Daddy tellin' Momma

At least Daddy and Momma were back on speaking terms again, that was my first thought when I heard the voices comin' from the bedroom. They weren't whispering but they weren't talkin' right out loud either. The door was ajar, almost closed as well. Based on these things I had to assume they didn't want me hearing what they were talkin' 'bout.

I didn't mean to stumble across their conversation, I was just headin' out the back door to go out and play with Hank for a bit; but when I heard them low talkin' I decided to listen for a while.

Well apparently Daddy was havin' a hard time at work; harder than usual anyways. It was a lot like the stories Daddy told all of us at the dinner table, but his tone was different... the mood was different. The stories at the dinner table felt more like coffee shop talk. The story I overheard from Momma and Daddy's bedroom felt more like... well more like scary tail told around a camp fire... you know the kind where someone puts a flashlight under their chin and says WOOOOO!!!! at the end? You know the kind I mean?

The only thing is the story wasn't really scary in itself. No, it was more the way it was told, all in secret. It was the tone of voice and the nearly closed door. It was more than that I think.

Basically the story Daddy told Momma went like this:

"John I just think we should slow down and think this through," police officer Jerry Taylor chose his words carefully. He thought he chose them well... but then again, he knew no words along this line would satisfy Big John Long.

"Oh shit Jerry, you think I'm being hasty; you think I'm not thinkin' huh," Daddy was feeling defensive. He gets so sick and tired of Jerry questioning his logic. Of all his police officers Jerry is the most... well the least respectful.

"I'm not sayin' that John, I'm just sayin' it could be more than it appears." Jerry had a calm tone to his voice.

"Well Jerry... all knowing one... why don't you enlighten me. Why don't you tell me what it appears to be."

"Well John, on the surface it simply appears to be an accident. That William Countryman was simply... accidentally... struck by an auto. Then in a panic, maybe the driver just drove off, maybe he was drunk and didn't want to go to jail." Jerry tried to sound confident in his assessment but realized his voice was a bit shaky. It was hard for him to stay calm with his boss, because Chief of Police Big John Long could make stating anything he disagreed with... well unpleasant... very unpleasant indeed.

"Jerry Jerry Jerry," Daddy laughed loudly. "There are an awful lot of maybe's in that story of yours. Maybe this and maybe that! Sounds like you've really got it figured out," Daddy continued laughing with serious condescendence.

"Well John does anyone have it figured out yet? I mean we need to really think about this. We really need to take some time to understand what this might be. It might be..." Daddy cut Jerry off.

"What Jerry? What might it be?" Daddy didn't really want an answer to his question.

"It might be..." again Daddy cut him off.

"You know what you are Jerry? You're an alarmist. You like to make things into something they aren't. I think you like the excitement... makes you feel important. So you try to blow things up into things they aren't." Jerry just stood there listening, waiting for a chance to speak.

"John, what I was trying to say was that..." interrupted again.

"You're just not gonna let it go are ya Jerry?" Daddy smirked sarcastically, almost as if confident, but inside he was fearful. He actually had fear in his belly.

"I guess not John," Jerry was speaking very fast, tryin' to get his words out before his boss had another chance to interrupt him. "I think it could be more than a simple accident, more than a hit and run." Jerry paused to take a breath, but wasn't finished yet. It didn't matter though, Daddy jumped in.

"Oh here we go Jerry... here we go with your conspiracy theories."

"What?" Jerry asked this with sincerity. He couldn't ever remember bringing forward an idea that included a conspiracy theory. He decided to just chalk it up to Daddy's normally negativity toward him. He figured Big John was just grasping at straws, to try to shut him down; to try to shut his reasonable idea down.

"Oh you just have the most harebrained ideas Jerry," Daddy laughed, but sounded less sure of himself now.

"We have to consider that it could be a continuation of the... the recent murders," Jerry blurted this out loudly as if he had to beat the thought into my Daddy's head through yellin'. He probably did.

"We have to do no such thing. We don't make the decisions 'round here Jerry... I do. I decide what direction investigations go, not you."

"I realize that John, I'm just sayin'..." Daddy interrupted... again.

"You realize nothing Jerry!"

"John... I realize we have a responsibility; no a duty, to see beyond the obvious here."

"Oh and I suppose you think you're the only one capable of doing that Jerry?"

"No John, no I'm not. I'm trying to get you to see what I'm talkin' about." Jerry sounded increasingly frustrated; and for good reason. He felt he was getting no where with Big John; he rarely did.

"Oh I see," replied Daddy with his eyes closed. It was an adolescent showing of sarcasm to say the least.

"Hell John it could be a continuation; or it could even be a copycat. We just don't know until we take a good look at it with an open mind; and open eyes." Jerry kind of goaded Daddy about his little display of eye closing. It was probably appropriate but Daddy took nothing but offense from it.

"Copycat! Jesus Jerry! Can't you think of somethin' better than that to waste our time on?"

Jerry became visibly angry. You can only push a man so far before he stops caring about authoritative structures like: who's boss, who's employee, what job is at stake or even polite etiquette. Jerry was to that point.

"I'll tell you what Big John!"

Daddy took a big sighing breath and said with annoyance in his voice: "Tell me what Jerry?"

"John, you were so forceful in getting the confession out of Al Clement, maybe... just maybe you got the wrong guy. We've got the wrong guy behind bars! And there's still a killer out there lurking in our town." Jerry's voice sounded frantic even though he tried with all his might to remain calm.

"Lurking... LURKING! Jerry could you think of a more dramatic way of puttin' it? I'm not sure you've sensationalized your perspective enough. I guess I'm just closed minded, and eyed; but I just don't think I understand you yet." Daddy had a smirk on his face. Jerry just stood there waiting for some reasonable response that in the back of his mind, he knew would never come.

"Tell you what Jerry. I got the right guy. Al Clement did it and that's that. Now you drop it and get your ass back to work!" With that Daddy ended the conversation.

Daddy strongly disagreed with Jerry's idea; at least verbally. But in Daddy's mind, what he wouldn't say out loud; was that he agreed with Jerry on this one. However, the last thing he needed was for Jerry to be goin' up and down Main Street tellin' folks the murders are continuing. Right or wrong Jerry couldn't be doin' that, and it was up to Daddy to hold him in check; so he did.

***

Momma just sat and listened as Daddy continued on with another story. I kept real quiet and listened too.

"Where's Chief Long?" Allen Lott just stepped in off of Main Street and blurted this out to Jenni Bresh as she sat at her desk in the Police Station.

Startled a bit by the abruptness of what she usually knew to be a quiet, polite man; Jenni replied: "Umm well... he's out on patrol."

Allen Lott's just an average man of about forty-five years of age. Average in virtually every way really. Not particularly physically imposing or mentally imposing; though his salt and pepper hair had begun to provide him with an air of wisdom that Jenni wasn't quite sure he actually possessed.

"Ha!" yelled out Allen with a loud laugh. "On patrol huh... what's to patrol in the big town of Barnsdall anyway?" Allen strolled over and took a chair without any invite from Jenni. He believed his anger was all the invite he needed.

"Jenni I just gotta tell ya, that John Long's 'bout as incompetent as, as... as well as incompetent as a fella can be!" Jenni noted how articulate Allen was, especially in his similes.

Jenni said nothing and made sure not to nod her head or anything. She didn't want to egg him on. It didn't matter; Allen didn't need any nudgin' to express his opinion that day.

"I mean with all those murders, now a hit and run. No suspects, no clue!" Allen got up and walked to the front door, looking out through the screen door. He was fidgeting with his hands and his tip tap with his feet made him look like he was about to wet his pants. Jenni smiled and almost laughed at this when Allen had his back to her, but straightened up once he turned back around.

"Am I the only person in this town' that's concerned about this?" Again Jenni didn't say a word or move an inch.

"Surely I'm not. Can't folks see that Barnsdall's not bein' represented very well in the law enforcement department right now? Isn't that pretty damned obvious Jenni?"

Jenni felt like Allen wasn't goin' to let her get away with silence this time. She'd have to answer his question, or: "Would you like me to see if I can radio Big John to come in and chat with ya? I'm sure I can have him in here right quick." Jenni had a pleasant inviting tone to her voice; experience has taught her to keep calm in situations like this.

"Well yeah... I mean I guess so," Allen sounded like he hadn't thought of that; that maybe all he really wanted to do was complain about John behind his back. He resented how Jenni pinned him down like that, made him make a decision to actually tell all this to Big John... face to face no less. However, he still liked Jenni, she was so pleasant he thought.

"Ok then," replied Jenni as she began doing her thing on the radio. Chief of Police Big John arrived lickety split. Probably not fast enough for ole' Allen Lott though. He probably counted the seconds.

As Daddy got out of his car and started the short walk to the front door of the police station he noticed the smell of honeysuckle in the air. He had a pleasant feeling... that was quickly interrupted by Allen as he met him half way to the door.

"'bout time John," said Allen rudely as he burst out the police station front door. As the screen door settle back into its frame, Allen settled into his diatribe.

"Where you been John? Out patrolling the big town of Barnsdall?" Allen laughed as if that was no job at all. Daddy was offended but still managed to keep his cool; on the outside.

Daddy reached out his hand, to shake, and said: "How are ya today Allen? What can I do for ya?"

Allen shook Daddy's hand extra firmly. Daddy found this humorous, but didn't laugh. Jenni watched out the window with moderate interest.

"I'd like to talk to ya about what's been goin' on in this town. I'd like to tell ya..." Daddy interrupted.

"Allen would you like to come inside and sit down... have some coffee?"

"What? Huh? Oh... no, no this'll be fine," Allen replied as if sitting down to have a civil conversation was the furthest thing from his mind. He had other plans.

"Suit yourself then," Daddy said as he pulled out a dip of snuff. "I like the outside air anyways," Daddy had a breezy tone to his voice, like hadn't a care in the world. He was faking it. "What's on your mind then Allen?"

"I'm just fed up John... fed up!" Allen sounded like a whiny baby to Daddy. Big John seriously thought about slappin' him to bring him back to bein' a man; to actin' like a man. He saw this in his mind and the thought gave him great pleasure.

"What's that Allen?" Daddy began to tune out what he figured was about to come. He tried to tune it out anyway. The negativity still ate at him somethin' awful.

"John... now with all due respect... I just think you're in over your head here." Allen tried to sound diplomatic, but came across completely judgmental.

Daddy spat a line of brown snuff into the little flower garden at the side of the police station. He thought to himself: no good conversation ever started with the words "now with all due respect...".

"Look John, you've made a fine Sheriff when Barnsdall was just a small town, but now it's a small town with many murders. You're just not ready for that sort a thing. You have to admit that. Right?"

Daddy wondered how serious Allen really expected him to take him. Hell he couldn't even get his title right; Sheriff... he was the Chief of Police... not the damned Sheriff. Did Allen really expect him to say: "Yeah you're right Allen, I'm way in over my head here... wow what a revelation... here's my gun and my badge, now I'm gonna run off to Mayberry where I can handle the little crimes again. Daddy whistled the tune in his head.

"Come again," Daddy asked Allen politely. He thought if he made Allen think his position through again, and repeat it, he'd come up with a different assessment; one that wasn't so... so... stupid. He wasn't in over his head!

"Did I stutter John? Was there somethin' I said that was hard to understand?" Allen began to look angry, but pulled back quickly when Daddy glared down at him with violent eyes. Chief of Police Big John gloated at his ability to put another man in check with just a glance. He thought: now that's law enforcement, no action needed, just a look and they obey.

"I suppose not Allen... I 'spose not, Daddy replied with confidence in his voice. He sounded like Allen's words didn't faze him a bit. He spit out his dip of snuff and began picking his teeth with a toothpick he retrieved from his shirt pocket. He took a long time to do this without saying a word. Allen began to appear visibly nervous.

"Well..." Allen began to speak, desperately needing to break the awkward silence.

"Well what Allen?" Daddy said with a bland expression on his face.

"Well... uh... what are you gonna do about it?" Allen expected more of a response than he was getting. The lack of aggressive reply from Daddy was taking the wind out of his sails.

Daddy took one of those deep sighing breaths, as if annoyed and said: "do about what Allen?"

"What I've been saying'... what are ya gonna do about how you're in over your head?"

"Swim," replied Daddy with a grin.

"Swim?" Allen looked confused.

"That's right Allen, when you're in over your head you swim... to shallower water, you stand up and walk to shore." Daddy had a laugh in his voice. Allen looked at him, as if lost.

"What?" Allen didn't know what else to say.

"Look friend," Daddy put a hand on Allen's shoulder. "I know you're concerned, and I appreciate that, but we've known each other for years. You know I'm a man of my word. You can trust me Allen. I will take care of this." Daddy paused for a moment and looked up Main Street. He then said: "All right then".

"Ok John, alright. I know you're a man of your word. Ok." Allen gave in quite easy. Daddy thought his little speech to Allen would rival any that SOB Mayor Tolson could muster. He was quite proud of his political accomplishment.

Allen went on about his daily business and Daddy stood there with his thoughts. Pride quickly ran away from him as wrath crept in. He was insulted. How dare Allen say those things to him. How dare he even think them. What a pompous ass!

***

I quietly, secretly, remained at the back door as Daddy finished up his stories; listening intently. I was less interested in the stories really, I mean I've heard plenty of them at the dinner and breakfast tables, than I was interested in the underlying concerns Daddy had. Also, how Daddy's problems would impact Momma. I guess you could say I was bein' nosey; but, it would eventually take a toll on my life as well. Right? And Johnny's. So I rationalized my sneaky behavior.

"John, I'm sorry things have been rough for you recently," Momma's voice oozed sincerity; always the dutiful wife.

"Yeah," replied Daddy softy. I couldn't see him but I pictured him with his head hung low; appearing to be completely spent emotionally. Funny how one word can say so much.

"What do you plan to do about it," Momma jumped right to action.

"Do about it?"

"Yeah John, what are you gonna do to answer the concerns of the town folk? I mean they do have valid concerns. Don't they?" Momma didn't sound so supportive anymore. She had to realize she sounded a bit like she was pushin' Daddy.

"Hell Katherine! You sound just like ole' Jerry and Allen. I thought at home, at least at home, I would get some sympathy." It wouldn't be often that Daddy would ask for an emotional hand out; like sympathy.

"Sympathy? John get a grip. I love you and of course I sympathize with you on how stressful things have been, but that doesn't mean that something doesn't need to be done. You know that. You know the law can't just rest 'cause things get tough. You've got a duty to enforce the law and investigate and find out what happened in that "accidental" hit and run. See if it's more than that." Momma sounded like she moved in the room, probably closer to Daddy, maybe took his hand in hers or something. "John, you've got a responsibility; a duty." At least Momma's tone was supportive, while her words might be interpreted as pushy.

"Don't I know it Katherine... don't I know. My duty screams at me twenty-four seven. That's law enforcement. A thankless task. If there's no crime, well then you've really done nothing as the Chief of Police 'cause that's what ever'body expects anyways. If there is crime then they want to hang you from the nearest tree."

"I know John... I know," Momma whispered, I barely heard her say it.

"Well I guess I'll just have to fight through the BS, or ignore it... get to the bottom of the hit and run and shut ever'body up."

"It's not everybody John, it's just a few folks really. Right?" Daddy probably nodded, but I couldn't see. "It just feels like a lot 'cause the ones that are concerned seem to be speakin' up pretty loudly. Right?" Momma was trying to get Daddy to listen to reason; to reason his way out of his stress. A good thought, but I've found that often doesn't work. No instead you just have to fight through it. You can waste a lot of time just tryin' to make sense of other folk's thoughts and feelings.

"They sure are speakin' out loudly, and believe me Katherine... I hear them." Daddy sounded more confident now, like he was ready to attach the problems at hand.

"I hear them too John, both around town and from you. I support you and I know you can solve this issue. You've just got to believe in yourself hon." For some reason, right then, I thought of Daddy as a child. I suppose it just seemed like what Momma said was somethin' a mother might say to their child; not their husband. Or maybe it wasn't what she said, but how she said it. She wasn't talkin' down to Daddy, but she was surely talkin' above him, if you know what I mean.

***

After a bit more discussion I heard that tell tale tone of voice that said the conversation was comin' to an end. This mainly came from Momma as I think Daddy could have gone on a bit longer.

Figurin' they'd be coming out of their room pretty quickly I turned the knob, every so quietly, on the back door and slipped out without them ever knowing I was there.

For some reason playin' with Hank didn't seem like the thing to do then. Other things were on my mind.
In Broad Daylight

As told to me by the checkout girl down to the Barnsdall Market (can't recall her name)

Of course I heard about it, nothing's a secret in this small town. But I didn't have all the gory details. Daddy chose not to share them at the dinner table last night.

See it was Saturday mornin' and it happened the day before. Momma wouldn't let me go up to the store for a candy bar, not after what happened; but I snuck away and did it anyway. I felt like quite the rebel!

On my way up to the store I didn't see any kids playin' outside; not a one. One of the nosey neighbor ladies drove by in her beat up Chevy Nova and said: "Jessi what're you doin' out wondering the streets? Don't your Momma know better than to let you do that after what's happened...". She said a few other things but she rolled too far away for me to hear what they were. I didn't really care anyways. I could take care of myself.

Barnsdall looked like a ghost town. There wasn't a single person walkin' on Main Street; and on such a beautiful morning. There were cars driving up and down the road though; I guessed with the doors firmly locked... and probably a loaded gun or two in the glove compartment.

As I got closer to the grocery store I felt a little guilty. I didn't usually sneak away to do things. I quickly got over it though when I reminded myself there was a Twix at the end of this trail. I figured I could get back in time, before Momma noticed I was gone, but even if I didn't the scoldin' might be worth it for the candy bar. Surely I wouldn't get grounded. I mean everyone was all ready grounded; made to stay in their houses 'cause of what happened. Everybody now knew it was continuing.

As I slowly strolled into the checkout line I eyed my prize. I grabbed up four of my favorite Twix candy bars, but returned two to the shelf after counting my pocket change. Two would hold me over for the day, surely. I probably wasn't gettin' out just for the candy bar anyways. No, it was probably more of that cabin fever thing. I just wanted to be out on my own; not shut in like a scaredy cat; like ever'body else was.

"What you doin' out all by yourself little girl," said the teenage checkout girl. She looked like someone that had to know everybody else's business.

I didn't say anything, I just held up the two candy bars.

"Oh, well don't you think ya otta be stickin' close to your parents... don't want to end up like that lady yesterday."

"What do ya know about that... got any details?" I knew she must.

"Sure I do," the checkout girl looked proud of being "in the know".

I noticed no one else in the store, at least no one in line behind me, so I figured we had a few minutes to talk. I leaned against the counter and gave a look of interest. That's all it took; off she was telling me the horrible story.

"Well you already know it happened right? I mean you know about what time it happened... in the morning. I mean they let school out 'cause if it so you do know that right? I mean surely you know that?" This girl's fast ramblings, and question after question with no room for me to answer, reminded me of Mrs. Jennings.

"Yep," I replied, still with my serious look of interest on my face. I didn't want her to know how annoying she was to me. Not yet anyways.

"Good, good then. I'll just skip when and where and get to the what happened to the poor woman. Glenda was her name. You know Glenda Davis? Suppose you do, I mean ever'body knows ever'body 'round here."

I nodded. I did know of Glenda Davis, but didn't know her. Her daughter was younger than me, not in my class, so I didn't know much about her.

The checkout girl looked around to see if anyone could hear her; as if she was tellin' some serious secret. She sort of leaned across the checkout stand and whispered as she spoke; but in a loud voice.

"Glenda's car was apparently just sittin' on the side of the road. Lots of folks past her by and didn't even think a thing; just a car sittin' on the side of the road ya know. But somebody glanced in as they drove by, not sure really who it was, and noticed a terrible sight." The checkout girl glanced around again and her tone became more dramatic.

I kept firm eye contact with the girl while I slapped my change on the counter. I then started in on my first Twix. I wasn't worried about a horror story hurtin' my appetite.

"Whoever it was that found her didn't get too close, guess they saw enough just drivin' by. Instead of goin' up and checkin' on her in the car they just called the cops. I think it was your Daddy actually". I didn't know this girl from Eve; of course I'd seen her about town, but I didn't know her. However, apparently she knew who I was... in connection to my Daddy, Chief of Police John Long, anyway. Once again known and defined by my lawman Daddy. Whoopee.

"Once the cops arrived on scene lots a folks started gatherin' 'round." I thought duh... that goes without sayin' in Barnsdall. Rubberneckers Daddy calls 'em.

"So what was done to her?" I appreciated the checkout girl takin' the time to tell me the story but I needed to get back home. I wanted her to hurry it along.

"Glenda... she was found..." the checkout girl began to look quite upset. She must have known Glenda well. Or maybe she was just the kind of person that tears up 'bout things like this. I'm not. "... poor Glenda... she was found slumped over the wheel of her car, just past the end of the school zone." She paused real dramatically at this point; long enough for me to look at the clock on the wall.

"Uhmm," I cleared my throat just to bring her back to the here and now.

"Yeah, Glenda was slumped over the wheel of her car... bleeding everywhere. Or she had bled everywhere already. She was pale white and basically empty of blood. It was all in the floor boards and ever'where. It must've been an awful sight to see." From the shakiness of the checkout girl's voice you'd a thought she saw it with her own two eyes.

"My goodness... Glenda's throat was slit from ear to ear and her tongue pulled through in what's known as a "Columbian neck tie"." The thought of this made me nauseous. I've got a pretty strong stomach... I'm tough ya know. But, I got a picture in my head of what the checkout girl desecribed, so dramatically, and it really scared me.

I guess the checkout girl noticed a new expression on my face, 'cause she said: "I'm sorry hon, maybe I was too graphic. I didn't mean to scare ya. I sure hope you don't have nightmares 'bout that."

"No... no, I'm fine." I would be fine, but at that moment I didn't know what to feel exactly. Should I be fearful, sad for Daddy, angry, indifferent? I was a mess, but I put on a brave face and said: "Go on... a... please."

It didn't take much convincin' to get her to continue; seemed she really needed to get this off of her chest. Or maybe she just liked tellin' folks what she knew?

"Now I don't know what really happened after that, just hear say really from folks comin' in and tellin' me bits and pieces in the checkout line. But what I heard was that Big John went about askin' 'round the neighborhood and up to the school as well about who, what, when, how and why. You know all that police work, investigation stuff like you see on the boob tube. He had some of his other police officers helpin' him out too, I think." She paused as an old lady came into the store and struggled to free a shopping cart from its corral. Once the lady had finally passed she continued on.

"Oh that's Mrs. Shoffer, she usually takes a long while to get her shoppin' done. I'll hurry up now and get you to the end." Something told me this checkout girl has never hurried up to the end of a story.

"Strange thing was that no one could seem to recall seein' anything that would be of help to the police. Can you believe that; in a town like Barnsdall? No one saw nothin'?" I just shrugged my shoulders. At this point, after all that had happened recently, I might believe just about anything could happen.

"Seems all folks could tell your Daddy was that Glenda dropped her daughter off for school and then sped away. She was prone to speedin' ya know. She wasn't a bad person, she just didn't pay too close attention to things like that. Not a bad person at all I tell ya... she just had... well had her problems ya know." The checkout girl almost sounded like she was tryin' to convince me this Glenda lady was better than she really was.

But this checkout girl cared more about good juicy gossip than she did about Glenda because, surprisingly to me, she turned on her at this point and started pointing out her... less glowing traits.

"Now don't tell nobody I'ze the one that told you this now hon. Ok?" She didn't wait for me to agree with her. It didn't matter if I said "no, I'm gonna tell the world you said it; I'm gonna climb to the top of the water tower with a megaphone", she still would've told me. She just had to spill her guts; had to get the gossip out.

The checkout girl leaned in even closer to me and used that loud whisper voice that was actually no quieter than her normal voice; just sounded sneakier is all. She started to smile as she said: "Glenda was known to be a drinker," she raised her eye brows and nodded her head as if to say: "bet ya didn't know that huh?". I just tilted my head to the side in half nod and took another bite of Twix.

"Now when I say a drinker I mean a DRINKERrrrr! I'm here to tell ya she would wake up in the mornings with the hair of the dog." I had no idea what she meant by that until she explained it in such detail that there was no question; Glenda drank from morning to night.

"And as you can imagine with someone all tanked up like that all the time; she wasn't much of a driver. She had a good heart that Glenda, but she just had problems." I nearly laughed at the way the teenage checkout girl couldn't decide whether she was gonna praise Glenda for her "good heart", or slam her about her drinkin' and such. I felt judgmental when I thought: two faced.

"I'm sure that mornin', just like any mornin', noon or night, Glenda was driving like a maniac. You know, speedin' and runnin' stop signs and such. It's what the cops sometimes call driving erratically. Or they might call it driving recklessly, I don't know. Either way she was a menace. You'd best stay off the streets when she was behind the wheel. Come to think of it, you'd probably be safe to stay off the sidewalks too. She was that bad. Really!" Checkout girl was layin' it on pretty thick now. I wanted to shout out: "I GET IT, NOW MOVE ON!"

"I once saw Glenda run through three stop signs in a row without even lookin' from side to side once. Hell she could a killed a lot a people. Right?" She didn't care about the answer to this question; checkout girl just wanted reinforcement for her idea about Glenda; that she was less than a safe person. To keep things movin' along I quickly nodded my head in agreement.

"Always goin' to bed extra "medicated" usually made Glenda late at droppin' off her daughter to school. That's probably a good thing though, 'cause there weren't very many kids around, all in class, for her to run over. In fact, maybe that's why no one saw what happened. That everybody else had dropped off their kids already and the kids were in the school; just not many people around to see anything." I thought duh, you're just now figuring that out. It was starting to seem like checkout girl was just makin' up this story as she went. That by bouncing her ideas off of me she was putting pieces of the puzzle together that made sense to her and then spouting them off as the truth. In fact, I strongly suspected, this was simply her idea of the truth.

Checkout girl kept goin' on about how it's lucky Glenda didn't show up earlier when all the kids were around or she may have hit one with that crazy driving. She just kept repeating herself over and over. Quite annoying! Finally she broke free of this cycle and moved on.

"Not only was she a drinker, and one crazy driver, but she also had a mouth on her that would make a salty sailor blush. I mean that lady could cuss up a storm." About this time Mrs. Shoffer shuffled up to the checkout stand. Seemed checkout girl wasn't fast enough to finish her story before slow Mrs. Shoffer could finish her shoppin'. It didn't surprise me, checkout girl was long winded to say the least.

I stepped back out of the way, thumbing through the magazine rack, while checkout girl did her work. She really did more chit chattin' with Mrs. Shoffer than she did workin' though. Seemed she thought her job was talkin' to the customers instead of efficiently checking them out. Oh small town life; laid back, slow... often frustrating!

After what seemed like an eternity Mrs. Shoffer made her way out to the car with the carryout boy that checkout girl called up from the back of the store. I stepped back up to the counter.

"Now where was I..." checkout girl looked to the ceiling. I realized this was probably just a gesture; she really didn't expect for me to say anything, but I had to. I was sure I'd be in big trouble all ready; being away from the house this long. Surely Momma already discovered I was gone. I'd be lucky if she didn't already have one of those APB's, or BOLO's, out on me; probably has Daddy searchin' the world over for me.

"You were quickly finishin' up your story so I can get on home," I snapped off quickly. The checkout girl looked at me as if to say: "well you didn't have to wait... you could've just left ya know". I recognized I was bein' pretty rude, but... well I just didn't care at that moment. I was really annoyed.

"Way I see it this is probably what happened..." I knew checkout girl was just makin' this up now, but for some reason I really wanted to hear her theory. She had a mad power of gossip that's for sure.

"... I figure Glenda got up late to take her daughter to school. But... as usual she still managed to find the time to get sloshed before headin' out to the car; we all gotta have priorities right." Checkout girl laughed; I didn't. "So there she is drivin' up to the school like a bat out a Hades, ya know swerving and runnin' stop signs and such; probably scarin' her little girl to death. Or maybe her daughter was used to that kind a drivin' by now. Probably, what do you think?" The last thing I wanted to do was ponder on that question. I just put my hand on my hip and tilted my head. I tried not to look angry, but probably did. I was goin' for a grown up gesture of "I'm in a hurry toots".

"Yeah, yeah... no she probably was scared... I mean what little girl wouldn't be scared to see her Mommy drivin' and actin' like that?" At this point checkout girl sounded exactly like Mrs. Jennings, only far less appealing. Again, I just stood there saying nothing.

"As I was sayin', I 'magine Glenda was drivin' crazy and screeched up to the school to drop off her kiddo. Then she sped away... probably nearly hit somebody, then got in a big argument with 'em. She probably cussed them up one side and down the other. They probably got real pissed at her, I sure would, and she got herself... whacked!" Checkout girl did a slicing motion with her hand, across her throat; real dramatic like. "That's what I think happened. What do you think?" I had already started movin' towards the out door before I started speaking.

"I'll let ya know the next time I come in. Sorry, sorry gotta get home now. Momma's probably gonna kill me. See you later." I was already out the door before the word later got out. I was bookin' it home.

Needless to say Momma was none too happy when I got home. I was surprised at how fast she got over it though, she didn't even scold me; well not for more than a few minutes anyways.

Once I caught my breath from my fast sprint home I made my way to my bedroom and began to think. My thoughts ended with this truth: whether I liked it or not, whether I was worried for Daddy or not, Big John Long, Chief of Police now had to face the facts. It was continuing.
The Deep End

I worried about Daddy... ya know now that the killings for sure had started back up. After Glenda Davis was found killed ever'body in town seemed to assume William Countryman wasn't just hit by a car, rather murdered as well. They were probably right. I know I thought he was killed. So that would make two more murders since Daddy arrested that Al Clement fella. Needless to say, things were hard on Daddy; real stressful.

But he wasn't the only one things were hard on. Momma took it hard and so did Miss Jennings, she went back to bein' a shut in... just scared to death. Momma was a bit more subtle about her fear. She at least tried to put up a good front. It didn't fool me though.

What I mean by a good front was that Momma seemed calm... overly calm... too calm. She seemed almost like a zombie. I remember seein' her drink, for the first time I could remember, just a couple days after Glenda was found with her gross neck tie.

"Momma! What're ya doin'?" I found Momma sitting at the kitchen table. It was about 1:30 in the afternoon. If I remember right it was Sunday too.

"Just thinking Jessica," she replied so softly I could barely hear her. She had a bottle of red wine in front of her, half full or half empty, depending on how you look at it. I knew she had to have drank it all herself 'cause Daddy wouldn't get near that stuff. Momma took a slow, but big, sip from her wine glass and looked out the window.

"When did you start drinkin' Momma?" I realized my question sounded judgmental, but I didn't care. I thought Daddy did enough drinkin' for both of the parental units. Surely with both of them drinkin'... well no good could come of it. Right?

"Drinking... huh? Oh... oh honey... wine's not really drinking," she replied while still looking out the window.

"It's not?" I didn't agree with her one bit.

"No Jessica. It's the blood of Christ." She took another big sip.

"Ooookkkk," I said. How do you argue with that? So I didn't. I just let it go, but really didn't. It bothered me to see her drinking. Adults are so complicated!

Not to be selfish, but... I was impacted a lot by the restart of the murders; though I suppose they never really stopped in the first place. I had a hard time at school. Folks thought they'd take out their frustrations, about my Daddy not doin' a good job as Chief of Police, on me.

"Howdy Chief O' Police Jessi... why'd you let the murders start up again?" David Spencer had that smart aleck tone he gets; or usually just has most of the time.

"David don't start," I replied as I was heading toward my locker.

"Oh I'll start Jessi... I'll start when ever I want to!" He sounded less goofy than normal, and angrier. I didn't like his tone or his expression.

"What ever you say Davey," I tried to just blow him off and go about my business, but he was having none of it.

"I thought your Daddy arrested the killer? What's up with that?"

"David, I don't know. Why don't you ask him yourself?" I had my back to him now. He was standing behind me as I was putting books in my locker.

"I'm askin' you," he replied. He was leaning over my shoulder and was right up next to my ear. You could say he was invading my personal space.

"Damn David how about a tic-tac?" He didn't have bad breath really but my little joke got a nice chuckle out of the small crowd that was gatherin'; a crowd that would surely grow due to David's loud and obnoxious tone of voice. Folks in small towns just come runnin' when there's trouble; not to help, just to gawk. Damn rubberneckers!

David grabbed my arm and tried to spin me around to face him, but I managed to jerk free before he could. He wasn't givin' up though.

"You're the reason we all can't go out and play anymore!" David had a whiny tone to his voice.

"Yeah!" shouted out somebody in the ever enlarging crowd of kids.

"What... what are you talking about?" I turned around to face him, of my own free will, now.

"It's your fault that we can't go out and play. All the grown ups are sayin' stay in doors, don't go out there... it's not safe! Stuff like that."

"So what's that got to do with me David?" I was playin' a bit coy. I kind of figured I was about to take the fall for my Daddy; again.

"If your Daddy would do his damn job then we wouldn't be locked up in the friggin' house. The only time I get to go outside is when I'm walkin' to my Mom's car so she can carry me to school." David had balled up his fists like he was gonna hit me. I think he knew better though... I could probably take him.

"Me too," shouted someone from the back of the crowd.

"Yeah!" Seemed like the whole crowd joined in against me; saying things like: "I'm tired of bein' locked up, it's like bein' grounded for nothin' I did, your Daddy don't know what he's doing". Really, there were worse things than that said; I just can't bring myself to write them down right now. Let's just say they were mean and hurtful. They made me ball up my fists, but there were just too many kids against me to pick out the first one to hit. Although David would have been a good first pick, I didn't do it.

"What does my Daddy's job have to do with me?" I knew what David's, and the crowd's, answer would be to this. I was really just stalling; hopin' a teacher would come along and break this little lynching up. I couldn't fight them all off alone and I couldn't back down either. I was definitely in a no win situation.

"You're his kin ain't ya?" David still took the lead for the crowd.

"Duh," I replied. I was seriously trying to act cool; like none of this bothered me a bit. I figured if David thought he was gettin' my goat, he'd probably continue on longer... no I know David would have; he's that kind a brat!

"Well then you can tell him... well tell him... he... he needs to start doin' a better job." It seemed David was stumbling now because he recognized his point of view was flawed. I mean surely he could see I really couldn't make my Daddy do anything; better or worse. Surely he could see that. Right?

Well the crowd didn't seem to be impacted by David's stammerin', because they gave their rousing approval again. The crowd was getting so loud I was sure a teacher would be comin' soon. This made me get a little bold.

"David if you're so smart... if you're so tough why don't you tell him yourself? You seem to have all the answers. You seem to know just what to do."

"I'm telling you!" David was outright shouting now. "We're all telling you!"

"Yeah!" The crowd shouted in almost perfect time together.

"Well I'm tellin' you, there's nothin' I can do to help you." I didn't want to give in to them, to admit my Daddy wasn't doin' a good job, but deep down I agreed with them. It made me sad... no it made me frustrated. Frustration was the feeling that won out at that moment. I really felt like I was painted into a corner.

"Then you're just as worthless as your Daddy," said David with a grin on his face.

I'd had it, and I was just about to sock him one good when Mr. Henderson, the science teacher, came out of his classroom and broke up the crowd. I walked away from my locker feeling drained, but mostly I felt like an outcast; like I'd been banished from the world of friendships. It really stunk... just wasn't fair!

I was glad, at first, to see my bestest friend Heather run up to me. I was hoping that she would at least be on my side.

"That was awkward... wasn't it?" Heather sounded out of breath.

"You could say that. What an arrogant jerk that David can be, huh?" I was sure she'd agree with me. I mean the only thing she liked about David was that he was easy to pick on.

"Well he's kinda got a point, don't ya think?" Heather said this so matter-of-factly. I was stunned. I stopped walking and she turned to face me.

"You're jokin' right?" I really thought she was at first.

"Well no."

"No?" I was in a state of shock; Heather agreeing with David... had hell frozen over?

"Yeah no... I mean things are gettin' pretty bad in town don't ya think? Can't you say something to your Daddy? You know get him to... well... to get busy or somethin'.

"You too... not you too Heather!" My voice went up about three octaves when I said her name.

"Oh me too what Jessi? I mean jeash! Can't you see your Daddy's in over his head?" All I could think was: what an awful thing to say to your best friend; about your best friends Daddy!

"Gosh Heather, whether he is or isn't in over his head... what's it got to do with me? Like I'm supposed to be his boss or somethin'?" I was trying to reason with her, but quickly realized she was no different than David and his crowd of supporters; they had already made their minds up, and no amount of reasoning was gonna change them.

"Surely you have some influence over him. Surely you can go to him and tell him how hard it is on ever'body with all this crap goin' on. Surely you can do that. Right?" Heather had put her hands on her hips and was talkin' to me like she was the parent and I was the child. It was really no better than what David had done just a short bit ago. I felt more pressure from Heather than I did from David and his whole crowd of followers. I suppose it was because I cared what Heather thought way more than David and his supporters. But... Heather was starting to lose my caring with her point of view. Her off base point of view!

"Surely," I said in a mocking tone.

"Well with an attitude like that it's no wonder things have gone so far down hill in town. It must run in the family."

"What does that mean?"

"Well you don't want to do anything and it's pretty clear that your Daddy isn't doin' anything, so nothin' gets done. The murders just continue and us kids get locked in the house to be kept 'safe'." Heather sounded so selfish. All she really cared about was bein' able to go out and play. I don't think she really cared about the folks that were murdered; she just cared about her precious play time; time she could spend playin' tricks on dummies like David; who she was now agreeing with. I wanted to scream! But I didn't.

"Heather, I can't believe your bein' this a way."

"What way?" Heather acted as if she'd said nothing wrong at all; like nothin' she'd said should offend me in the slightest. I guess that was the most offensive part about it.

"You know better than to talk bad about other folks' families; especially their parents."

"I'm not talkin' bad about your parents; just your Daddy," Heather chuckled. She actually chuckled like it was all a big joke to her.

"Well that makes it all better I guess. Your wrong Heather... your just wrong... you don't know what you're talkin' 'bout!" I had mirrored her by putting my hands on my hips. It was a hands on hips argument for sure.

That's when Heather, my supposed bestest friend, just threw up her hands and kind of waved them at me, like she was brushin' me off, and turned and walked away, saying: "What ever then". She simply blew me off just like that! Just left me standin' there. That's not how bestest friends treat each other. No it ain't!

After all that I needed a break. I figured I'd be late for class but I just didn't care, I needed to head into the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face; it felt like it was beet red. I sorta shuffled my feet slowly towards the bathroom door and tried not to look at anyone. I wasn't shyin' away from nobody really, I just didn't want another argument; not right now.

Once inside I was happy to find I was alone. I spent some time just standing in the middle of the bathroom staring into nothing. I couldn't stop going over and over my conversation with Heather; though I couldn't care less about David. I was angry, sure; but I was more disappointed. My feelings were hurt in a way that makes you more sad than mad. Know what I mean?

Once I heard the final bell ring out I knew I was late for class. I thought, oh well no reason to hurry now. A few minutes one way or another isn't gonna get me in more, or less, trouble; not after the final bell... late is late. So I slowly stepped to the closest sink and turned on the cold tap just a little. I let the cool water fill my hands then I threw it right up into my face. It was a shock; a nice shock. It brought me back to life. When I looked up into the mirror I did notice my face was quite red, but it seemed the cold water was calmin' that down. I splashed a couple more hands full of water on me; some on my face and some accidently on my shirt. Once I felt I'd gathered myself enough I set out for class.

I was hoping the walk to class would feel long, like a leisurely stroll, but it didn't. Instead it felt like a heart pounding rush, realizing the scoldin' I'd get from my teacher Mrs. Pearson. She could be quite the hot head. A stickler for "the rules" she wouldn't let my tardiness slide; not today, not ever.

I saw through the little window in the door (you know the little windows with wires through them school doors seem to have) that Mrs. Pearson was standing with her back to the door, kind of sideways to the chalkboard. I thought I might get lucky and slip in undetected. Actually I knew better than that.

As I opened the door, ever so quietly, every kids head in the room turned... but Mrs. Pearson didn't see me yet. No she didn't see me until one of the kids, I didn't actually catch who said it but I think it was John Oyster, shouted out: "Hi Jessi, nice of you to join us!" I could have strangled him. If he'd have just kept his big mouth shut I might have snuck in without Mrs. Pearson seein' me. I could have just sat down in my chair and acted like I was there the whole time. Later it occurred to me that Mrs. Pearson had probably already taken roll and it wouldn't have mattered anyway; she would have already marked me down as either tardy or, I suppose, even absent at that point.

"Well yes Jessica... nice of you to join us," echoed Mrs. Pearson in her holier than thou tone of voice. The kind of tone of voice that makes kids stomachs turn over; the kind of voice that makes you lay in bed, late at night, dreading to hear it again in the next coming school day. You get my point.

"I was just...", she interrupted me.

"Take your seat Miss Long," she said calmly. I thought maybe I was off the hook, but only for a second. As I approached my chair she began her chastising rant.

"Not much of a rules keeper huh? Or you could say not much for obeying the law." I could feel her words cut into my back like a knife. I turned to face her before sitting down.

"Take your seat Jessica." She didn't really shout but she said this very sternly. I sat down immediately.

"I'm sorry to be late Mrs. Pearson, see I was just...," she interrupted me... again. She did that all the time, and not just to me really, to everyone. It's as if she can't stand to hear anyone's voice but her own.

"It would seem your tardiness is a symptom of a hereditary disease," Mrs. Pearson was smiling one of those smug teacher smiles when they think they've said something witty. I didn't completely understand what she meant, but I figured I knew where she was going with this.

"Ok then," I replied, thinking that if I agreed with her it would catch her off guard and she'd let it go. A normal person would just let it go, right? Nope. I'm really not even sure she was listening to me.

"What I mean, Miss Long, is that your lackadaisical attitude towards being on time to class could be a greater reflection on your gene pool. That is to say, that your languid ways towards important things may run in the family; just as your father seems to take his job as Chief of Police so lightly... so, shall we say... lazily." She then turned her back on me and began slowly walkin' back to the chalk board. I couldn't see it now, but I could feel her smug grin; that attitude of condescension. Condescension was another one of my recent spelling words and it fit Mrs. Pearson pretty well... pretty well indeed!

I thought for what seemed like a long time; everything was running in slow motion. I thought about saying nothin', just duckin' my head down and staying quiet. But... you just don't insult somebody's parents. Right! Right?

"How inappropriate Mizzzz Pearson," I replied in the same smug tone she usually uses. I even changed her Mrs. to Miss, pronouncing it just the way she does when she chooses to call a student by other than her first name. Before I said it I thought I would probably immediately regret it after I did; but I didn't. She was out of line and I knew I was in the right. Unfortunately right and wrong rarely matters to folks. No they care more about what they want; and in this case Mrs. Pearson wanted to make a point; wanted me embarrassed.

"Young lady, I'll tell you what is inappropriate," she had turned back to face me. "What is inappropriate is showing up late to my class. What is inappropriate is smarting off to your elders. You obviously have no respect for authority. And... what else is inappropriate is your father maintaining his position as Chief of Police after all that has occurred. We need a Chief that can, and will, make us safe... make all of us safe." She looked around the room and saw every child nodding their head in agreement. That is every child but me. I was livid.

"What I have no respect for isn't authority... it's YOU! You standin' there talkin' bad about my Daddy like that; you have no right!" I felt my face getting red again and was fightin' hard to hold back tears that were surely coming.

I heard David Spencer snicker and say something like "you've done it now dummy". A bunch of kids chuckled, which didn't help my cause.

"Shut up David, you horses ass!" I yelled this out without thinkin'. Before, I was trying to walk a fine line between appropriately defending my Daddy and insulting Mrs. Pearson, but cussing in her class was too far. I knew what was comin' before she even said it.

"That's it Jessica... out of my classroom. Out, out now!" Now I started to tear up. I really wish I hadn't.

"Gladly," I said through the beginnings of a "you done me wrong" sob.

"Just keep it up Miss Long... just keep on digging your grave." I thought that was a terrible thing to say to a child. "Find your way down to the Principal's office and I'll be with you shortly. You can explain to her what you've done before I get there. Now off you go." Mrs. Pearson shooed me away with a wave of her hand. It was almost exactly like what Heather did earlier. I felt like poop.

I won't go into details about what happened in the Principal's office. I basically apologized my way out of trouble. I didn't mean the apologies, and with what Mrs. Pearson said about my Daddy, even the Principal realized she was partly to blame for the whole thing; although Mrs. Pearson never apologized. An adult apologize to a kid... never!
Not Only The Good Die Young

Told to me by a friend of a friend that overheard the conversation

"I'm tellin' ya'll we should count our blessings," said Leonard White with another sip of his black coffee. A portly old man with rosie red cheeks; looking all the more portly as he was wedged into his coffee shop booth.

"Oh Leonard now... I just can't see how you can find much good out of all them killin's," replied fellow (every morning) patron, Harry Lanley. Harry would be the Abbott to Leonard's Costello; if you catch my drift.

"Goodness Leonard," remarked the waitress, name tag reads Lorain, as she freshened up the mugs.

"Well I guess you know you've gone a step too far when you were able to offend a coffees shop waitress." Henry laughed as Lorain rolled her eyes and walked on to the next booth.

"Look Leonard, you just can't go 'round talkin' like them murders was somehow... somehow good. Some a the folks that might overhear ya are kin to them that got killed. Know what I mean ole' boy?" Harry looked at the clouds in his coffee.

"Hell Harry... it's a free country ain't it; freedom a speech and all that jazz. Right? I mean my point of view makes sense don't it? It might not be very "PC", but it makes some damn good sense don't it?"

"Sense or not Leonard it's a pretty negative way to look at things. Why don't we talk 'bout the game last night or somethin'?" Harry desperately wanted to change the subject, but Leonard was just as desperately trying to make his point.

"Look Harry... and you too Lorain," Leonard glanced, and somewhat spoke, at Lorain as she passed by the table on her way back behind the counter. "All I'm sayin' is if you look at it like I do, you see how Barnsdall might be better off without them troublemakers."

"So you think what them folks did or didn't do warranted the death penalty. That's what you think Leonard?" Harry believes in the death penalty but only for the worst types of things, not the types of things he heard those folks did.

"I'm not sayin' they should have been killed, I'm just sayin' since they were... let's all just move on and live our lives. I guess I'm just tryin' to find some reason behind what happened. Make sense Harry?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry didn't sound too convinced.

"Ok look at the first murder then. What was his name again... you know that ole' boy that was hung up on the oil well. Oh dammit my old memory's failin' me... help me out here Harry," Leonard had an irritated tone to his voice; irritated at himself mainly, but Harry knew that irritation would quickly turn on him if he didn't provide some help.

"Dale Shaw," Harry said with no expressiveness.

"Yeah, yeah... Dale Shaw, take his killin' for instance. Again, I'm not sayin' he should a been killed for what he done, but you have to admit Barnsdall's better off without him. I mean he was quite the cut up, ya know. Him and that damn beat up Chevy...".

"Camaro," Harry continued with his help.

"... Yeah, yeah... his damned Camaro; beat up hunk a junk flyin' 'round town. Really who puts glass packs on a Camaro, 'cept a down right white trash hick? Answer me that Harry?"

"I don't know Leonard, I guess kids these days think that's cool maybe." Harry knew Leonard didn't know what was cool anymore. He was way too far removed from what was cool in today's time.

"Well it ain't cool Harry, 'specially when you got a head gasket leak that pings louder than your damned glass pack mufflers!" Both Leonard and Harry had a good chuckle at that. It was pretty funny really.

Lorain past by the booth again and received a less than wholesome wink from Leonard. She rolled her eyes and quickened her step; Harry pretended he saw nothing.

"And what about those two killed down at Big Hole?" Harry didn't feel like Leonard had fully explained his logic of being better off without Dale Shaw, and here he was off onto the next victims.

"What about 'em Leonard?" Harry replied with gracious attentiveness.

"Well hell Harry. Those two were thick as thieves they were. I mean they were thieves. Trouble makers of the sort that would make that Dale Shaw character look like a green freshman." Leonard's voice had gone up a notch as he was really lettin' his emotions drive his statements.

"How's that?" Harry leaned forward just a little bit.

"I'll tell ya how's that. Mrs. Cooper, down the way from my house, she was tellin' me the other day that she's sure that it was those two that stole her brand new lawnmower from her shed out back. Yep, those two no goods just took it right out of her shed."

"How'd she know it was them? Did she see 'em doin' it?"

"I don't think so," replied Leonard with a frown. He didn't like bein' questioned, especially about his... well his blown up stories. Interjecting logic, or questions, into a good story spoiled the whole thing for him. A good story needs to be embellished, not brought down to earth... brought down to facts and figures.

"Well then how'd she know it was them?" Harry leaned back in the booth and took a sip of coffee. He wasn't tryin' to be pessimistic; but he was.

"Hell I don't know Harry... women's intuition! I didn't question her every statement ya know. That wouldn't a been polite now would it?"

"Guess not," replied Harry getting Leonard's point right and proper.

"Ok Leonard, I get your idea about those folks bein'... bein' trouble makers, but surely you don't feel that way about those two little ones that were hung up by their Buster Browns from the stop light?"

"Why not Harry? Just 'cause they're kids? Kids can cause trouble too ya know."

"But from all accounts, Leonard, those kids weren't bad at all. I mean they did goofy kid stuff sometimes, but they weren't bad. Right?" Harry felt an urge to stick up for those poor little ones. After bein' done the way they were he just thought it wouldn't be nice to think they deserved it.

"Yeah that's been throwin' me for a loop. If all these killings were done by the same nut bag then he must've slipped up there; moved out of his normal mode of behavior. But... I 'spose crazy goof balls don't have to make much sense. Huh Harry?"

"No I guess not... you've got a point there." Harry was just glad Leonard wasn't sayin' those poor kids were bad like the others.

"But that Billy Countryman... now that was a son of a bitch if I've ever seen one!" Leonard slapped the table and laughed loudly.

"You got that right Leonard," replied Harry with a big grin. He knew how Leonard didn't like William Countryman's "rich ways" about himself. Harry agreed with Leonard completely on this.

"Slick Willy Countryman. He was one horndogger what'nt he! Always chasin' after those less than ripe apples. He got just what he deserved."

"You think so Leonard? You really think he deserved to be killed?" Harry wasn't trying to stick up for ole' Countryman. He was just tryin' to get to the bottom of Leonard's point of view.

"Well I guess I'd fall a little short of the death penalty for his sins, but then again. I'll just say this; if you play with fire long enough you're bound to get burned." Leonard raised his eyebrows exhibiting an expression that said: I've just said something very insightful, now haven't I?

"Point taken," replied Harry with a nod.

"And that Columbiano."

"Columbiano?" Harry raised his eyebrows as Leonard had just done; in a sort of monkey see monkey do way.

"Yeah the Columbian neck tie lady that was killed last."

"Oh yeah... oh yeah." Harry tried to play it off like he knew what Leonard was saying from the start.

"Well she was just plain white trash wasn't she?"

"Didn't know her really," replied Harry as noncommittally as possible.

"Well take my word for it Barnsdall's better off without her. In fact Barnsdall's better off without all of 'em; save those kiddos.

Harry shook his head in agreement; more out of habit than in true belief in Leonard's ideas.

"Ya know what Harry?"

"What's that Leonard," Harry continued to sound quite interested even though his attention was waning.

"I think maybe we should be less worried about these killings and more glad to rid ourselves of these bad folks. That's what I think!" Leonard watched Lorain as she passed by again. He waited for the soft breeze she made, to smell her perfume.

"Good point Leonard," replied Harry with another sip of coffee.
When Will It All End?

This is what I heard Ronald Mason did

Ronald has always thought of himself as an intelligent person. Even as a young child he knew he was gifted. As a point of fact; he was, and is. Some people may mistake his confidence in his reasoning ability for arrogance, but he never let that stand in his way to achieve his goals. Opinionated and honest, sometimes to a fault, he holds his politicians and civil leaders accountable. Not the kind of person to be swept off his feet by a charming or slick politician, Ronald Mason differs from most of the voting public. He looks into the candidates, goes out to meet them, even get to know them. He's a tough customer you could say. He's a hard man to please when he feels like his tax dollars are being mishandled. Politicians and public servants either learn how to deal with him or they take the fall, because being on the wrong side of Ronald Mason is suicide to a public career.

Ronald had been thinking, not talking; just thinking for some time now. He's been perplexed by the murders that have been happening in Barnsdall, but at the same time he's felt as if he's given Chief of Police John Long the benefit of the doubt. Ronald feels like if there is a lone serial killer out there it's really not Chief Long's fault. He thinks a single nut case is almost impossible to thwart. Ronald likens any lone killer to Lee Harvey Oswald, Sirhan Sirhan, The Son of Sam, James Earl Ray, or Charles Whitman. He recognizes the near impossibility of stopping a single person, working alone, with a strong intent to do harm. You can't really blame the police for the acts of these types of people. However, Ronald feels different if he thinks the police aren't following up on leads properly or timely. In other words Ronald Mason gives no breaks for incompetence or laziness. He feels Chief of Police John Long is now exhibiting both of these traits.

Ronald has a way. His way is to ensure he is heard when he speaks. He finds speaking without the absolute certainty of being heard is futile; along with being a complete waste of his precious time. In order to ensure he is heard, Ronald rarely speaks alone. Instead he chooses to first rally support to his cause and then speaks for that cause. In this particular instance, Ronald first needed to make his way about town, door to door, to make sure he had the most folks on his side as he could get.

"Ghmmm," Ronald Mason cleared his throat just after firmly knocking on the front door of his first house. He felt like a man on a mission; a mission to ensure the safety of his community. He liked the thought of leading such a charge.

"Well hi Ron, how are you today?" Mrs. Drumright opened her front door wide to invite Ron in.

"I'm fine Mrs. Drumright and you?"

"Just fine, would you like to come in?"

"Sure, I won't take up much of your time." Ronald had a letter size manila folder in his hand. As he sat down to talk with Mrs. Drumright he opened the folder and took out a petition that read:

We, the citizens of Barnsdall, are concerned about the recent events in our community. The murders that have occurred have put the fear of God into us all. We've looked to our civic leaders to resolve this matter. We've been left wanting.

Our Chief of Police has failed in every material way in regards to putting a stop to the killings as well as capturing whoever is doing these terrible acts. Due to this fact, we are requesting the removal and replacement of Chief of Police John Long.

Recognizing that Chief of Police John Long is not a Sheriff, not elected by the voters and simply an employee of the city, he can be removed by the Mayor. This is our request and our demand.

Respectfully submitted by:

Under the "respectfully submitted by:" line was room for many, many signatures. Ronald intended to get hundreds, and for Mrs. Drumright to be his first; well the first after his name he'd already signed.

"Mrs. Drumright... now I know you're as concerned as I am about what's been going on in our community."

"Yes Ronald, yes I am."

"Well good then, I'm hoping you'll take a moment to read this petition and provide your signature... your signature to do the right thing under the circumstances." Ronald had a serious and concerned look on his face. He knew he was selling his point well. He felt good about that.

Mrs. Drumright took quite some time to read, and it appeared she reread the petition numerous times, before she took a deep breath and looked out the window. Ronald provided her with all the time she needed. He knew how to handle situations like this. You get folks on your side; you rally them, by empathizing with them, making them empathize with you, with your position. You can't rush it.

Ronald reached out and took Mrs. Drumright's hand in his, ever so gently, and said: "Mrs. Drumright we must protect our families... our children. We simply must."

"I know Ronald, I know, but this is a pretty big step."

"Doesn't what's been happening merit such a large step Mrs. Drumright?" Ronald's voice was so very calm and soothing.

"I suppose it does Ronald," Mrs. Drumright shook her head and glanced at him, then down at the floor. Ronald was sure she was going to sign his petition, but she just wanted to make sure he knew she felt real bad about it; felt real bad about what she was doing to a long time friend and servant to the community; John Long.

"Take all the time you need to think Mrs. Drumright. Would you like me to gain some other signatures before you sign yours? I'm certain there will be many folks signing today. By signing first you show your caring for our community." Ronald felt this nudge would get her going. It did.

"No, no Ronald that's OK. I sure appreciate you caring so much about our community. We need more nice folks like you that will take charge and do the right thing for us all." Mrs. Drumright smiled at Ronald and then glanced down to sign the petition. Ronald strategically had a pen at the ready.

"Thank you so very much Mrs. Drumright. You are doing a great thing. With this and many more signatures we are sure to see action taken. We all just want the murders to stop."

"That's right Ronald, that's what we all want. God bless you son, God bless you." Mrs. Drumright lowered her head as she shook it from side to side, she looked upset. Ronald thought she'd be fine.

With that Ronald made a quick, but polite, exit. After all he had a lot more signatures to get. He found each signature he added made the next signature quicker and easier to achieve. Like a gang mentality, once someone saw how others were in agreement with the petition they just followed right along like sheep. It wasn't long before Ronald had fifty signatures. The next day another seventy-five, the next over one hundred more, and Ronald just kept going until he had several hundred signatures. He was now the leader of a great cause; for the people.

Once Ronald had all his signatures in order he took a few days to think, and rethink, how to approach Mayor Tolson. He wanted to approach Joe in a way that would ensure a positive response; that would be action.

First Ronald thought about calling up to city hall to set up an appointment. He rethought this because he didn't want to be just another meeting to the Mayor. Next he thought about just walking into his office and asking to see Mayor Tolson. Next he thought he should do this, only demand instead of ask. He shot both ideas down as too disorganized and even rude. He didn't want to tick off Joe Tolson, he wanted his support.

Ronald decided to take a more personal approach. After all he's known Joe for years and really had no reason to be completely formal with him. Ronald decided to simply ring Joe up at his home and ask if he could stop by and see him; possibly that same evening. He was sure that a calm and collected, friendly, approach would give him his best opportunity at success. Success is all Ronald wanted; sweet, unconditional success.

"Hello," Betsy answered the phone in a soft and pleasant voice.

"Well hi Betsy, this is Ronald Mason... how are you today?" Ronald smiled while he spoke to ensure his voice carried that smile through the phone line.

"Hi Ron, I'm fine and you?"

"I'm well Betsy... I've heard you've had some great success on the school board recently," Ronald remembered Betsy had recently become a member of the school board and believed stroking her pride would not hurt a thing.

"Well yes, actually... I feel I'm bringing a fresh perspective to the board and really believe my ideas are being heard." Ronald thought she was quite optimistic, possibly even blissfully ignorant; as his experience with public boards was far less about being heard and more about the politics of carefully saying the right thing; in other words, try not to say anything that anyone takes offense to unless you wish to have a very short tenure. He knew she would figure this out eventually; one way or another. He wished he cared about it as much as his polite tone implied, but he didn't.

"I'm sure you'll make a real difference for our community; a positive impact."

"I'll do my best Ron. So what have you been up to lately?"

"I suppose I've been worrying a bit more than usual, but probably no more than any other resident of Barnsdall; you know in regards to our problem." Ronald sounded less cheery and more serious now; but still somehow refreshingly polite.

"Oh yes, yes I know what you mean Ron. I've been worried sick at times. I know Joe has been too, although he puts up a good front most of the time; ever the tough guy you know." Betsy provided a soft, somewhat forced, chuckle.

"Speaking of Joe, how's the old fart doing these days?"

"Oh he's fine, he's right here do you want to talk to him?"

"Well Betsy if it's not a bad time, hope I didn't catch ya'll at the dinner table or anything."

"No Ron, this is a good time... Joe phone honey," Ronald could hear her handing Joe the phone and whispering: "It's Ron Mason".

"Hi Ron how are you?" Joe sounded pleasant, but his heart rate increased a bit as he knew that any call from Ronald Mason had to have something involved in it that would make his life more complicated. He knew Ron nearly always wanted something from him, and every other civic leader he could get an audience with.

"I'm fine Joe and you?"

"Superb"

"Have you been getting in any fishing lately?" Ron wanted to ease into inviting himself over.

"Well with everything that's been going on in town I really haven't had the time." Joe's voice was polite but with a twinge of cynicism, expecting the pleasantries to turn into something more direct, and likely stressful.

"I understand Joe... I understand. Say Betsy mentioned that this might not be a bad time for you, do you think I could swing by your casa in a bit; bend your ear?"

There it was, thought Joe, Ron was looking for something; likely some job to be done or some rant to be heard. Joe tried to use his tone of voice, rather than his words, to register his dissatisfaction with such a meeting. However, as far as Joe could tell, Ron just didn't get it, or more likely chose to ignore it. "Sure come on over Ron," Joe finally said.

As Joe hung up the phone he gave an exacerbated look to his wife. "What is it," she asked.

"Don't know yet hon, but you better put on a pot of coffee because that Ronald Mason can be quite long winded when he gets going." Betsy hopped to it.

Joe made his way into the living room and plopped down in his easy chair. He thought about the recent events in his town. Being the mayor of the new murder capital of Northeastern Oklahoma wasn't what he signed on for. He couldn't imagine what else Ron would want to talk about; hell no one in town wanted to talk about anything else, why should Ron be any different. The whole subject just bored him. Not that he didn't think it was important, and terrible; but rather he just felt it was out of his control. If that damned Chief Long would just do something!

It was just under ten minutes before the door bell rang. Betsy answered the door while Mayor Tolson put on his best politicians face; confident and upbeat with optimism oozing from every pore. Joe usually liked to leave that face at city hall, but not this eve.

Joe could hear howdy do's coming from the front door and walking into the kitchen. Betsy was being the gracious host that made her a supreme asset as a politician's wife; Joe appreciated that. Joe often appreciated this about his wife above all other things; he enjoyed feeling Betsy had a purpose to him... to help further his career. It rarely crossed Joe's mind that his desire to have Betsy for this reason could easily be viewed as selfishness.

"Joe honey, Ron's here... would you like to come into the kitchen or meet in the..." Joe strolled into the kitchen with a smile and a stretched out hand.

"Hi Ron, good to see you," Joe gave his signature firm hand shake with the other hand on the shoulder. He felt this was a little less formal than the two handed handshake some politician's use. His shake was more howdy than hello, he thought. Oh he used both methods but preferred the more relaxed greeting in his home.

"Thanks for inviting me over on such short notice Joe." Joe immediately thought how Ron really invited himself over, as opposed to any invitation from him.

"Oh that's fine, it's just good to see you Ron. Why don't we settle in the living room, I think Betsy has some coffee on, would you like a cup?" Joe gave a look at Betsy that said: "get busy now", but not in a rude way. Betsy did "get busy".

"Sure that would be fine, thanks Betsy," replied Ron with a nod. They made their way into the living room as Betsy made her way to the coffee pot.

Once seated, Joe in his easy chair and Ron on the leather sofa, Joe noticed that Ron had a large number of papers with him. He'd noticed he was carrying something when he first met him in the kitchen, but was just now registering the size of the something.

Betsy brought in the coffee, and a smile. Joe and Ron sipped and talked small for a few minutes. Then Ron began to make his move.

"I have something here I'd like to show you Joe," said Ron as he slipped the top page off of his thick stack of papers.

"What's that Ron," replied Joe as he sat his coffee aside.

"Let me just start by saying we, the folks in the community, are all very concerned about what's been going on, as I'm sure you are as well."

"Of course."

"I've been talking with folks in town and we really believe something should be done. I'll let you read this." With that Ron handed Joe the petition. He then leaned back on the sofa prepared to provide Joe with a long moment to take it in.

Joe read the petition with a calm expression on his face. It didn't appear to faze him a bit. In fact it didn't, as he had been expecting something like this from Ron since he took his call earlier. He had enough time to expect the worst, so this didn't surprise him a bit.

Once finished reading and reflecting Joe looked up at Ron, saying: "So from the looks of that stack of papers over there you have quite a few signatures."

"Yes Joe... I do... hundreds actually," replied Ron with a twinkle of pride in his voice.

"That's quite a statement about the community's concern isn't it... all those folks signing such a document?" Joe leaned back in his chair, looking very composed.

"Yes, I think it is Joe," replied Ron, again with that sound of pride. He thought he should be proud of himself; after all he put this whole thing together.

"How's your coffee Ron? Need a refill?"

"No, no I'm fine thanks."

"I'll be right back. I'm going to go freshen up my mug." Joe left the room and Ron sat quietly awaiting his return.

Ron figured Joe just needed a moment to plan his response. He thought things were going well.

Upon Joe's return he looked even calmer than before. This surprised Ron a bit and Joe could see that surprise on his face. Joe decided to wait Ron out, make him make the first move. It didn't take long.

"So Joe what do you think? Find any flaws in the logic of the petition?"

"No Ron, I really don't. I think you've stated your case quite concisely."

"Including that you have the authority to remove the Chief?"

"Yes Ron... yes, including that."

"Good then. Surely with this many folks expressing their concerns," Ron held up the fat bundle of signatures, "You will be prompt to take action."

"Well let's not get a head of ourselves here now Ron. I may be able to do just that, but I will need time to think."

"Ok, I understand... what's your timeline then?" Ron wasn't going to let go of the subject that easily.

"I'll put it to you like this Ron... no matter what I can do; I will do the right thing."

"And what's that Joe?"

"That's what I'll be using some time to think about. I think you have a very good point, and you've done a fantastic job of gaining community support for your point. I appreciate your caring for our community. I'm sure we can find a way to resolve this that won't let you or anyone else down." Towards the end of his statement Joe had the tone of voice that said: "now this conversation is over, thank you for your time". He wasn't rude at all, just very clear that he'd said enough.

Ron grasped that he'd said and done all he could at this point, so he made a speedy exit. He wished Betsy a good evening, shook Mayor Tolson's hand firmly and off he went. He left the petition and signature pages with the Mayor; of course Ron had copies of his own at home just in case he'd ever need them.

***

Mayor Joe Toslon did indeed keep his commitment to Ron. He did think about it; about the petition, about all those signatures, about Ron's point of view, about Ron's rallying of the troops behind his cause. Although, Joe probably didn't think about it in a way that Ronald Mason was hoping. No, Joe thought of how to calm things down rather than move them forward. Right or wrong Mayor Tolson just couldn't stand the type of civil unrest that Ron had a tendency to create; just like he was doing with this damned petition thing. Joe thought there were many positive things that could come from a person with Ron's energy and intellect, but he'd greatly over stepped his bounds this time.

Joe decided it was time to have a sit down with Big John, Chief Long, and let him know which direction things were heading. He thought this may help John; that is give him a kick in the pants to "get busy".

Joe extended an invitation for dinner at his house. John accepted, but only in words, his tone of voice said "no, no, no".

"Thanks for coming over John," Mayor Tolson placed his napkin in his lap and began buttering a role.

"Sure Joe, thanks for the invite." John thought it strange that Betsy wasn't joining them. And come to think of it why didn't Joe invite Katherine and me? This must be a serious conversation we're 'bout to have.

"Quite a spread huh?" Joe looked about the dinner table at what was a fine meal.

"I'll say. My compliments to the cook. Where'd Betsy run off to anyways? She's not gonna join us?"

"Oh she's going to go play bridge with some friends. Besides I think we should probably talk alone." John thought that was a pretty blunt statement from a politician. I mean what good conversation started with "we should probably talk alone"? Serious busy indeed.

"Well I'm not a man to beat around the bush Joe. I think you know that. So if you've got somethin' on your mind then let's cut the crap and get down to bidness." John didn't sound angry, but he did sound like he was headed in that general direction. Joe got the point.

"Ok then John. I'll get right to it."

"Thank you," replied John with a mouth full of food and a look of indignation.

"You're being ousted buddy." Joe said these words with no emotion. He neither smiled nor frowned. It appeared he couldn't care less.

"Come again?"

"Just what I said John... ousted." Joe took a bite of his rare steak.

"How's that?"

Joe took a big drink from his glass of iced tea and placed his napkin on the table. "Let me show you."

Joe reached over and pulled the petition, and signature pages, from the seat of an empty chair beside him at the table. He handed them to John. "Have a read." Joe thought to himself, if you can read you stupid son of a bitch. He nearly laughed.

John took the pages from Joe without looking directly at them. Instead John was glaring directly at Joe; like he could come right across the table at him at any moment.

After a thorough read, and thumb through of the many signature pages, John set them aside and began eating again. So did Joe. It was a few minutes before they resumed speaking again; a few awkward silent minutes.

"So?" Joe was the first to break the silence.

"So what," Big John said this not as a question, but rather as an outright statement.

"Well John, surely you can see this is serious."

"Ta you it is... to you its all politics and votes. To me it's just bullshit." John continued to eat.

"John we have to listen to the people. They are our... well our bosses."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean they know law enforcement."

"That's true, but look how many signatures are on those pages. It's just too many to ignore."

"So are you going to "oust" me Joe? Is that what this fine meal is all about?" John sounded more bored than angry.

"That's not my desire. My hope is that we can calm all this down and move forward. My hope is that you'll see all those signatures and realize the importance of something like this." Joe was soft in his tone; he knew he was walking a fine line with Big John Long at this point.

"I only see one signature."

"What?"

"I see this first signature... Ronald Mason. That some bitch is always stirrin' folks up. He's always out to cause trouble."

"Well yes he is the...," John interrupted.

"He's the one that carried this damned petition around gettin' all those signatures isn't he?" John held up the petition in front of Joe's face.

"Yes he is John... and you've got to realize with loud mouths like Ron running around, keeping folks in an uproar, it makes things really hard."

"I realize that Joe. I realize Ronald Mason is an alarmist and busy body. He's always sticking his nose where it don't belong."

"That's probably true John, but the fact is he's done this," Joe nodded his head towards the large stack of signatures. "He's gotten folks in a tizzy and now what are we going to do about it?"

"Well Joe I guess you could "oust" me. Or... you can let me do my job."

"I'm not going to oust you John... not at this point anyway... but we need to see some progress towards stopping all these murders. We need to see success in bringing this to an end!"

"Ok then... let me do my job." With this John tossed his napkin onto his empty plate and said: "Thank Betsy for the fine meal." Then Chief of Police Big John Long just got up and walked out. He didn't look angry, thought Joe; he just looked... somehow disengaged, like he was compartmentalizing the whole thing. Joe thought that might be good; that it might be good for John to keep a cap on his emotions as he got about doing his work. He hoped he was right.

Later that night Joe's selfishness crept up on him as he tried to go to sleep. He felt like he'd taken a big risk on John. The safest thing for him to do, as a politician, would have just been to can Big John Long. He might be resting his future political life on a man he didn't really think much of at all. He kicked himself, wondering why he did it. He told himself what's done is done, but one more slip up and John Long's gone. This "last straw" idea helped Joe relax and he drifted off to sleep feeling somewhat better... for now.
How Could You?

I was at home with Momma and Johnny when I heard about it. Somethin' as big as this... word travels fast, even by Barnsdall standards. Of course I didn't believe it at first. It just sounded too far out to be true. I guess you could say I was in a state of shock. Momma certainly was.

When the phone rang something deep inside me knew something was wrong. Even before I heard Momma's tone of voice the pit of my stomach was churning. But... when Momma looked at me, straight in the eyes, while she was still on the phone I knew something drastic was goin' to be changin' in our lives. Her expression is chiseled into my brain. I'll never forget it. It was a combination of fear, anger, disappointment and utter drain. It was as if the life just drained out of her right before me. It's something a child should never see in a parent; a loss of all hope.

I never really found out what Momma was told on the phone exactly, but I did find out what apparently happened. It hurts to repeat it, I can feel my hands beginning to shake already, but I will. I must face it to get past it... right?

Ronald Mason was out for a walk; actually more than that. After his first run at Mayor Tolson didn't get the desired outcome, he thought it best to keep pushin' forward. Keep workin' the community folk to get as many people on his side as possible. More and more signatures would surely persuade the Mayor to do the right thing. To take the appropriate action!

Stopping by house after house Ronald was apparently finding far more success than failure. In fact he was on such a role he couldn't even remember what rejection felt like. He was on cloud nine.

As it started to get dark Ron had felt like he'd put in a good days work. Seeing that, while the sun was hiding behind the trees, there was still just enough light to be enjoyed before the street lamps came on; he kept on keepin' on. He was in such good spirits. He thought of the brisk evening walk as good exercise while he was performing his calling; his cause; well his current cause anyways. Getting my Daddy fired! What a cause!

At the same time Mr. Mason was feelin' so high on the hog about himself, Jerry Taylor was enjoying a nice stroll about town; for no particular reason really, except that Jerry liked to stay fit for his job as Police Officer Taylor. He took his job seriously and often thought of himself as a serious man. Well a serious man with a sense of humor anyway.

Jerry made his way down Main Street and then turned toward Birch with a lively step. When he reached Birch Street he turned right and walked the few blocks down to 1st. Keeping with the theme of walking on the edge of town he crossed by East Maple (my street) and kept goin'. The air was nice and the calm of the disappearing sun was serene. It was one of those few days that happens each year when you can do brisk physical activity and not sweat a drop. Just a perfect evening, thought Jerry. It was to be perfect in climate but strange and disturbing things were looming on his horizon.

Somewhere along the way Jerry decided to move off of his normal path and cut across 3rd Street. Just a new way, thought Jerry. As he rounded the corner at 3rd and Cedar he noticed that it had gotten dark; or very nearly dark. Half way down the block, or maybe a little further, he couldn't quite tell at the distance and the lack of light, he saw two men struggling. They were by the old abandoned Laundromat; a perfect place for trouble thought Jerry; where no one would care to look.

Jerry congratulated himself on having the intelligence to carry his gun; to always carry his gun. After all, he's a police officer and he's always on duty, even when off duty. He didn't carry his normal department issue, it was a little too bulky for brisk walks; instead he carried a more compact semi-automatic pistol; but still one with plenty of pop being chambered in 9mm with hollow points for stopping power. Though as he quickened his step toward the two struggling men, he really doubted he'd need the gun. Something told him he could break up these jokers and be on his way. He would be wrong.

"Alright ya'll stop it right now!" Jerry used his harshest authoritative tone. He wanted to make sure the point was grasped quickly and completely.

From the initial distance, and in the near dark, Jerry thought it was a fight going on; somehow he thought it was just your normal fist fight. But as Jerry got closer he saw that one man was standing behind the other and had him lifted up off of his feet chocking him in what looked like some kind of modified full nelson; like one hand under the arm and behind the neck and the other arm wrapped around the throat choking with the crook of the arm. Jerry realized it must take great strength to do such a move. He couldn't see the man in back's face 'cause he was holding the other man up that high. It was a very strange sight.

The man in front, being mercilessly throttled, was kicking his feet back and forth against the knees of his assailant. It wasn't an offensive, or even defensive, move though. It was more a twitching that someone might have just before the lights went out. Jerry recognized this and sought action quickly.

Jerry drew his pistol and yelled out: "put him down... now!" Almost immediately the dangling man was dropped to the ground. Jerry was surprised by this prompt action.

"Jesus Christ!" Jerry's own voice sounded far away to him. He realized at once that he was looking right into the face of Barnsdall's notorious serial killer; into dead lifeless eyes, like a dolls eyes. It all made perfect sense now. He felt like he was in a dream, a terrible nightmare.

The killer pulled out a large knife, from a sheath attached to his belt, and reached down to his victim. He moved quickly and with purpose.

"John no!" yelled Jerry, but he was too slow, Big John Long (my Daddy!) slit the poor man's throat from ear to ear; with such force he nearly took Ronald Mason's head clean off. Jerry stood there stunned for only a second, but if felt like a long time.

Jerry fired and his bullet found its intended home, in Daddy's right knee cap. Down he went. Jerry ran over to Ronald, while still keeping his gun on Daddy and staying well clear of the knife, to see if there was any hope; there was none.

Jerry heard sirens almost immediately and figured someone must've heard the gun shot and looked out a window, or something, and saw the scene; called the police. Jerry took a big sigh of relief and exasperation. He was relieved this was all over (the killer had been caught), but horrified at what he had just seen. He felt terrible that he wasn't able to stop Ronald Mason from his awful murder. But most of all Jerry was just mortified that Chief of Police John Long was the... the killer! He began talking to Daddy:

"John... oh my Lord... John... you, you're the killer? It's been you all along?" Jerry already knew the answer. Some folks might say he was jumping to a pretty big conclusion, but Jerry says: "if you'd a seen Big John's eyes at the moment just as he killed Ronald Mason you would have known. You had to see it to know!"

There was no reply from Daddy, not even a grimace from what must've been a painful gun shot wound in the knee. He just sat there bleeding with really no expression on his face at all; like he was in another place. It was as if he was lost in his mind; somewhere deep in there.

"John... this is just a mess," Jerry noticed Daddy had released the knife, and so he kicked at it and knocked it out of reach of Daddy's hands.

Just then Cecil pulled up and, only moments after, Eli pulled up too, both with their roofs fired up. Needless to say they were both as surprised as Jerry was. Initially they couldn't figure out why Jerry would have shot Daddy, but with a brief explanation from Jerry, of what happened, they realized... well realized the truth. Big John Long, Chief of Police was the killer all along; stunning really.

"John you crazy bastard," said Eli with a tone of disappointment winning out over indignation. Jerry went over and leaned against Eli's car.

"What the hell John... are you out of your mind son?" Cecil looked at Daddy for a long moment and realized the answer to that question.

Daddy continued to just sit there. He never even made eye contact with any of them.

It wasn't long before the ambulance showed up and they tended to Ronald. Unfortunately there wasn't much left to tend to; other than putting him in a body bag. There was blood all over the ground where he'd bled out. His wound was an awful sight, but one the Paramedics had started to get accustomed to in Barnsdall. They hoped this would be the last time they'd see something like this; now that the killer was caught.

Next the Paramedics tended to Daddy. "He'll live," said one of them. They all worked with fear; fear that Daddy would snap again and grab hold of them. He didn't though. Amazingly he was as calm as a Hindu cow. His lack of eye contact and refusal to speak was scary to them though.

It didn't take too long to document and clean up the crime scene. Daddy was taken away, first to the hospital and then to jail. It all happened so quickly. But... the ramifications won't go away so swiftly... no they will last a long, long time.
Now What?

Listening to folks around town, or should I say overhearing mainly 'cause most people didn't actually come right out and say it to me, it seemed like the common train of thought was that Daddy must've figured he was eliminating the bad element in town, the law breakers (sometimes even the small laws) to keep Barnsdall safe. A deranged way of thinkin' for sure, but then again you can't really expect rational thought from someone that would have done we he did.

I 'spose what I'm sayin' is that... well Daddy's crazy. Now I'm not saying he's "legally insane" as the papers write about what all the psychoanalysis may or may not show, and things about how he's "legally competent to stand trial" and all that stuff. No, I'm talking 'bout from my perspective, as Big John Long's only daughter; he just went off the deep end, that's all I can figure.

Hard as it is to take, I find myself feelin' like most of the folks in town. That is that Daddy meant well in what he did, you know getting' rid of the bad element and such. But, at the same time I just chalk that up to a sick mind. In many ways I feel sorry for my Daddy. In many more ways I hate him for what he's done. I could go on forever about this but the main things that eat at me are that he destroyed our family, marked us for life as the "crazy Longs", and really, for a long time to come, crippled the small town way of life of Barnsdall. I mean folks are on such edge now, even after the killer is caught. I 'spose I don't blame them though, as what happened was horrible. Let me put it another way... I shouldn't blame them, but I do. I have a lot of anger boiling up inside me about the whole damned thing.

They've got me seeing this psychiatrist; you know to help me get past all of this, to express my feelings and all that jive. Actually, through counselors at school and such it seems like everybody in town's seeing some sort of head shrinker. I guess that's appropriate in these types of situations. But then again, is there any appropriate way to deal with a situation like this? Anyway, sometimes it does feel good to get it off my chest; but other times I just want to hide away and pretend it never happened.

I'm starting to understand, with some prodding by that psychiatrist (her names Dr. Broch), what may have been going on in Daddy's head. It really must've been like his mind had made sense of it all, that he was protecting the community or something. It's just too crazy for me to fully comprehend really.

I say that, but I'm not sure deep down I mean it. I have a burning desire to understand why Daddy felt compelled to do what he did. I'm less concerned about getting over the whole thing than I am about gaining the knowledge of why he did it. What drove him to such lengths? Was it the world? Did he have some master plan? Was he acting on impulse, pure anger... I don't think so? Or was he just completely off his rocker... "competent to stand trial" tells me someone thinks otherwise. So then why did he do it? I suppose we'll never know the full story 'cause he ain't talkin' much, not even to me and Momma. He's takin' that "right to remain silent" thing pretty seriously apparently. They say that's the smart thing to do when you're arrested, but from the looks of things I don't think its smarts causing Daddy to be silent. No, I think he's just slid farther off that cliff. I mean he's fallen deeper into his... well his sick mind. But what do I know? I'm just a kid, right?

As time goes by and things get back to normal... ha ha, normal; like anything will ever get back to normal. Well as the terrible murders seem farther away... like in the past, in the place of your mind where the memories aren't quite so vivid. You know that place where when you think of something that happened, it's like you're remembering things happening on a real foggy morning rather than a clear sunny day. You know what I mean? As time trudges forward I find myself noticing how much people treat me differently than before; like I'm to be feared. Even my bestest friend, if she even is anymore, Heather seems to look at me with suspicious eyes; like I might turn into my Daddy or something. Like it runs in the family or the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. It's a lot to handle... it sure is.

At least this fear of me folks seem to have has caused my teachers to be a little nicer to me. I mean they don't seem to rag on me as much. Maybe they're afraid I'll snap, like Daddy did, and catch them out some where with a big knife. Or maybe it's what Dr. Broch tells me it might be, that it might be my teachers are just trying to be nice to me 'cause they know I'm going through tough times. I suppose that makes sense too, but it just feels like they're scared of me.

An example: I stopped by Heather's on the way to school one day; so we could walk to school together, just her and me. As we headed down her front walk, just about to the street, I heard her mother call her back to the house. I know I wasn't supposed to hear what was said, but I can read lips a little bit and I can sure read body language. The conversation between Heather and her mother went somethin' like this:

"Heather... Heather, come here," Heather's Mom had concern in her voice, and it was written all over her face as well; she also waved her arm back towards herself, like fanning, to reinforce Heather to get a move on.

"What is it Momma," Heather started to slowly stroll towards her mother. This only made her Mom wave her arm harder and scowl even more.

"Heather, come here!" She didn't shout loudly, she kind of shouted softly, if you know what I mean. Heather quickened her step just a little.

"What is it, I'm comin' Momma."

"Where are you going?"

"Where'm I going?" Heather clearly didn't understand the question. Surely her mother knew she was going to school. I mean where else would she be going at this time of the morning on a school day? Duh!

"Where are you going with... with the Long girl?"

"The Long girl... you mean Jessi... you know my best friend as well as I do Momma," Heather sounded a little bit like she was sticking up for me.

"Ok Heather, then where are you going with Jessi?"

"Well Momma, we're walking to school. I mean it starts in just a bit. Where did you think we were going?"

"I... I don't know Heather... it really doesn't matter. Are you walking alone?"

"Well no Momma, I'm walkin' with Jessi."

"No I mean are you walking alone with Jessi; just the two of you?"

"Well yeah, that was the plan. Heck we've walked together to school many times before."

"Yeah I know Heather... I know; but things are different now."

"Different?"

"Yes different... after all that's happened, after what her Father did. Surely you can see things are... are... well different now."

"Well Momma I don't..." Heather was cut off.

"Let's talk about this later honey, right now I'll just drive you both to school so you won't be alone... I'll pick you up today after school as well... then we can talk about this further with your Daddy this evening. Jessi... Jessi come on now with me and Heather... I'll drive ya'll to school."

Heather's mother did just that, and not a word was said the whole trip. I guess the next day was when I really started to notice Heather lookin' at me with those suspicious eyes. I can only imagine what that conversation went like; you know the one between Heather and her Mom and Dad later that evening. But I bet it was decided that I was not to be trusted. It was probably decided that they should all steer clear of me... and probably be suspicious of me from now on. That's what I bet happened.

As for my brother Johnny... he was so young I'm sure he couldn't grasp what happened at the time. He just went on bein' his usual chipper self; always smilin' and giggling and such. His positive attitude helped me a lot. Just to see him in such a good mood helped, occasionally, take my mind off of the terrible events.

However, I do think he quickly noticed the absence of Daddy. How could he not? I mean he loved his Daddy. And... with Daddy being such a powerful force in the family; you know some Daddy's are absent or quiet, but not ours. No, Daddy was loud and opinionated, like at the dinner or breakfast table, he pushed his influence out to his children. He tried to mold us with his opinions and mannerisms. Certainly even a small child like Johnny would be impacted by that. Right?

While Johnny seemed to bear the burden the family was under (because of Daddy's crazy actions) better than the rest of us, something told me that down the line, as he grew up and started goin' to school and being 'round other kids more, that it would impact him greatly. Even a young child can't escape the demons of his father forever. Eventually Johnny would have to pay the piper; that is pay for the sins of the father. I felt bad for Johnny. I didn't want to see him goin' through what I was going through; it just wasn't fair. But... as we all know, as I know all too well now... life ain't fair. Life can be damned cruel and doesn't really care about right and wrong. If you're meant to be crapped on then there just ain't much you can do about it. I know I must sound pessimistic, but goodness; don't I have a reason to be?

Johnny's my little brother, and I'm supposed to protect him... I think. Whether I'm supposed to or not; I want to. But this thing... this being labeled as the "crazy Longs" is something I know I can't protect him from. It's just gonna be something he'll have to learn how to deal with on his own. I wish him luck. Of course I'll always be there to help him in the tough times, but some things have to be dealt with on your own. Coming to terms with what Daddy did is something we all have to figure out deep inside. It's a lonely job. Damn it Daddy! Why'd ya have to be a nut case? He'd never answer that question.

I remember how fast I had to grow up when Daddy was caught. How it seems that day... snap... just like that, I went from being a foot loose and fancy free kid, to being a grown up in a kids body. All childish things had to be put aside and I had to learn how to deal with grown up problems. Really how many adults even have to learn how to deal with finding out their parent is a serial killer? And I was just a kid, only seven at the time... now about three years older.

I certainly learned things I wished I hadn't. I learned while the Bible teaches us forgiveness, people rarely do it; not in full anyway. I learned that while individual folks (that is by themselves) seem to be able to grasp common sense; in a group they seem to feed off negativity more than anything else and stick to sensationalizing things. The common sense I'm referring to is that I, and Johnny too, are not our Daddy. That just because he was a crazy serial killer doesn't mean I will turn out to be one. But... I suppose it doesn't mean I won't either; at least that's how folks seem to think.

Growin' up overnight is not healthy. It just can't be, right? I mean I feel like I was robbed of my childhood. Like one night someone snuck in through my bedroom window and stole my care free days; like a piece of jewelry sitting on the chest of drawers. I think people like to steal childhoods. I really do! I think some people like to show care free children that "life's hard ya see... it's been hard on me and dog gone it, it should be hard on you too... how dare you think you can live happily... welcome to the real world!".

I often wonder if losing my childhood so early, and so quickly, will cause me trouble as an adult. I think Dr. Broch thinks it might because she constantly mentions things like that. She doesn't come right out and say it like that, but I get her point. Her point is that if I don't have a healthy childhood then I might snap, at say twenty-five, and revert back to childish things because I missed them. Meaning that I will simply not focus on adult things (like job, career, family) and start just runnin' 'round and partying and doing drugs or worse. I see her point, but at my age it's hard to think what I'll be doing that far into the future. Does it even matter?

Momma changed too, and not all for the better. In some ways her being free from Daddy's negative influences helped her become her own person. But... in many other ways being her own person has made her less caring and distant than she ever was before. I'm not saying she doesn't care about Johnny and me, I'm just pointing out that she's carried the whole "what I don't know won't hurt me" thing even further.

I always thought Momma was purposely blind to what Daddy was; the killer he had inside. I think she saw the signs, maybe even knew out right that he was (or at least could be) doing the things he did. But instead of doin' somethin' about it she just stood by with her eyes closed and her hands over her ears mumbling to herself: "what I don't know... blah blah blah".

I tell you it's hard to honor thy mother and father when one is a serial killer and the other was clearly his enabler. And now... that enabler is simply an absent parent, just a shell of a person really. If I ever have kids I won't do this to them. No, I'll do a better job of being a parent. But I suppose every child thinks that when they're young, but at some point, between childhood and adulthood, those passions to be a great parent get lost in the greed and selfishness of what I see adults to be.

I suppose it's obvious from my writing that this whole thing has made me less than a happy person. Again, don't I have a reason to be? Oh, dear diary... did you think this story would close with a happy ending? Welcome to the "real world", where Daddy's kill folks and Momma's drift off to oblivion!

But folks tell me life goes on. Dr. Broch tells me all things heal with time. What great insight from a psychiatrist! I want to say: "you spent all those years in school to figure that out".

Daddy's scheduled for lethal injection soon and that's gonna be another hard day I'll have to live with. Although his lawyer says not to worry, that appeals will stretch this out for a long time; like that makes things any better.

The preacher says life is about loss... duh! That's an understatement. Sometimes when folks talk like that (say things I don't agree with and such) I understand why Daddy did away with them; then I come to my senses... sometimes.

