A/N~A friend dies and when he gets vilified for his life choices, Jason gets angry. An anonymous author inspires him to take a stand. Implied former homosexual relationship of an OC. Don't like, don't read.~A
It Doesn't Matter
Jason Walsh was pissed, and not for any of the normal reasons. Schraeger wasn't late, they were both actually early. An event so rare that newly minted Lieutenant Brown had looked at the clock on the wall significantly. Alvarez was actually not being an annoying douche for a change. Even Allison who had broken it off with him a little over a year ago had given him a small smile this morning.
Walsh was still seriously pissed, he was trying to not let it show but when Schraeger brought him his second cup of coffee and sweetly informed him, "It's decaf and if you don't unclench your jaw, your molars will self-destruct in fifteen seconds." He figured he was failing at the whole maintaining the status quo. When Banks and Delahoy had headed out of the squad to take their first case of the day, and Leo actually patted him on the shoulder, he knew he was in danger of loosing his cool.
Two months ago Detective Russell Burke of the Drug Enforcement Division was killed in the line of duty. Unlike most of his former partners, Jason and Russell actually got along. Three years together and the two hadn't really had any significant fights. Not even when on their so-called eighteen month celebration Russell had confessed that he was gay.
He seemed shocked that Jason had taken it all in stride and his only question had been to ask if Russell's sister Jennifer knew. When told she did but her husband the Marine did not, Jason had merely replied, "Nuff said."
He had attended the funeral for his fallen friend and had been more than shocked to find his former partner had named him executor of his will. It was a fairly straight forward affair. Except for some stocks, bonds and personal items to be held in state for his sisters kids until they matured. His benefits and the proceeds of tha sale of his worldly goods were to go to his sister.
The Marine had died a couple of years before in the Middle East, and while his benefits were good, Jennifer had been struggling with three kids on her own. Her brother had been helping where he could, and had actually had ended a long term relationship because of the stress of helping his siter.
Somehow though the fact that Russell was a homosexual had gotten out. Jason was frustrated to admit he still hadn't rooted out who had leaked the information. The laws were clear and despite the calls of several bigots in the department. Russell's family was still getting those benefits
Unfortunately that hadn't stopped the trash talk going around about Russell. Then it had also leaked that he and Russell had been partners and that he was named Russell's executor. First there had been the letters that said he should conveniently misplace the stack of paperwork to get the benefits for Burke's family. After all no fag or their family should get any money from the red blooded cops who actually worked for a living. Conveniently anonymous of course.
There were the weak excused delays and errors and the papers sent back with the tiniest detail wrong or explained as wrong that really weren't. Then more anonymous letters this time implying that the reason Walsh was still pursuing this was because Burke and he were a couple. Again conveniently unsigned. After the first few were sent to forensics and lost. Jason just shredded them on principle after that.
That's when the presents started. First there was the KY jelly and condoms, Jason had laughed it off and thrown both away saying the condoms were way too small. Then there were the tidy whiteys, in the package still that were so large even his former partner Kowalski couldn't have worn them.
The next had been soiled so badly even the ever snaky Banks and Delahoy had been offended for him. The last straw had been when a box had been left with a dildo, a few other sex toys and a framed picture of he and Burke included. The picture had come from their former precinct. The had laughingly both grown Van Dykes for a long-term undercover operation and their boss had taken a picture when the case had been closed.
Brown had been so pissed he had grabbed a pair of gloves and with the finesse of the best CSI had removed the photo from the frame and put the frame back in the box. He had handed the picture to Walsh and then ordered Beaumont and Cole to log the box into evidence before having them hand deliver the box and its contents to the lab.
He had then personally called the lab supervisor and told him that he was about to have evidence delivered to him that he was to sign for personally and to do all labs himself as it was going to be involved in a sexual harassment suit filed by a detective in his precinct.
He had then sent Jason home since the partners had only a small amount of paperwork to do. Schraeger stayed behind to complete it. The next day when he came in he was surprised to find when he went to get his usual mid-morning refill, the break room filled to capacity. Detectives from every floor and division, even a few from other precincts, beat cops, administration, even Banks girlfriend from dispatch were there, and it wasn't for the sludge they called coffee either.
Apparently the bulletin board was the pull for all of the attention. Rule one for the break room bulletin boards, nothing business like allowed. They had the whole rest of the precinct to post regs, rosters and codes of conduct. The break room was for kids pictures, invitations to department picnics, car washes for the local church. If there was one rule it was keep it PG.
When Jason finally got close enough to the board what he saw was like a gut punch but in a good way. Front and center of the bulletin board was a typed unsigned poem of sorts.
It Doesn't Matter
Black, white, yellow, brown, red or green.
It doesn't matter,
Men, women, both, neither or in between.
It doesn't matter,
Shot stabbed or beaten down
We all bleed the same
This is our life and our town
Who we love doesn't matter
We all serve, we all protect
Blood is red, heart is true
We all deserve the same respect
Who we are does matter,
We are PD blue
Several of the cops were taking pictures of it and sending it to who knew where. Over all though the ones who saw it were positive, female, male, detective or rank and file. He nodded at Henry as he made his way from the break room and back to his desk. Cole had given him a sunny smile before heading into the break room.
The next morning when he came in it had been to find the entire station house in a furor. When he had asked the desk sergeant what all the fuss was about the older man had merely shrugged and said, "Something on your floor, detective." Jason had taken the stairs two at a time. Hearing words from those he passed like "graffiti," "disgusting," and a few expletives not fit for mixed company.
When he arrived on his floor it was to find the break room full only this time angry mutters were going through the crowd. When he got his first look at the bulletin board he understood the anger. Someone had scrawled in marker over the poem, FAG QUEER and a few other words that were definitely not PG. When he walked into the office it was to find a grim-faced Banks and Delahoy, Beaumont was missing and Cole looked pissed. His partner was on her cell phone with what sounded like her father.
Brown was in his office with the door closed, chewing someone out over the phone, loud enough to rattle the windows. Beaumont came to the door and signaled her partner to join her and they headed down the hall. No presents today at least, the phone rang and he and Schraeger caught a case. They were running all over their precinct for the rest of the day.
The next morning the poem was back on the bulletin board in pristine condition. It was even in the same font, so he suspected the same person had simply re-printed the poem. Fewer of their own precinct detectives and officers were in the break room today but there were more from other precincts. "Transferring perps" and "conferring on cases" were the most popular excuses, but Walsh was pretty sure that's al they were…excuses. Still the poem was unsigned and no one really knew who had written it.
The next day the poem was missing, obviously ripped down, one blank corner still hanging by its thumbtack. Anger again was the emotion running rampant through the precinct, interestingly enough three members of the CSU and the supervisor were going over the bulletin board with a fine tooth comb. As soon as Walsh walked into Second Squad Brown called him into his office.
He explained that the supervisor for CSU one Sheila Knowles had found evidence from three different officers including the former lieutenant of the Drug squad he and Burke had worked for had handled the box and its contents. He then asked, if Jason would mind being the defendant in a sexual harassment suit against the three officers, "For Burke and anyone else who has to go through this crap? Yeah, yeah I will."
When CSI Knowles came in and told them they had found evidence of one of the officers on video with the poem apparently scrunched up in his hands, a cheer had gone up from the members of their unit. A small cheer went up in the unit.
Jason's announcement that he was filing a sexual harassment suit wasn't really well received by everyone in the precinct. Everyone in their unit including the other shifts however supported him whole heartedly.
When he walked into the break room that afternoon it was to find yet another copy of the poem posted on the bulletin board. Even the smell of burnt coffee and day old takeout wasn't enough to mask the odor of fresh toner. Jason smiled as he re-read the poem, he practically had the thing memorized by this time.
When he had gone to the unit and mentioned it, Delahoy had informed him that he wasn't surprised he had told him that every break room in the station house had a copy of it on their bulletin board.
As they continued with their routine of cases and court. Henry actually showed him where the poem had it's own face book, twitter and youtube following. Allison even mentioned to him in quiet passing after the sexual harassment trial had started that there was a wager going as to who had written the original poem. Most said because it was in poem form it was probably a woman.
To which most of the women in the precinct cried foul. Allison even going so far as to state it was quite possible that the poem might possibly have been written by her gentle souled partner.
Several months later: The trial and media interest were finally over. The officers involved had received several months in jail and an end to their careers. Luckily no violence was actually perpetrated a hate crime wasn't proved.
The unit was actually out celebrating the victory. Allison after the first couple of months had stopped taking bets and returned the money for who had originally written the poem. After it had become obvious that whoever the original author was they were apparently not going to be coming forward.
Casey was rolling her head on her shoulders her neck had been bothering her ever since she had taken down a perp earlier in the week. Jason moved to stand behind her leaning against the bar he began to massage her shoulders. Gently at fist and then more firmly to try and help her work the muscle spasms out.
"So who do you think, wrote the poem?" Casey asked loudly and a bit tiredly over their carousing friends.
"Oh I know who did," Jason said, as he felt his partner stiffen in surprise under his massage he said, "You know how I said we never say thank you to our partners or co-workers, cause we're always PD blue Casey? Yeah, I know who wrote it. Thank you." he replied as he kissed her on top of her head affectionately