February 2, 2010
Prompt: You're at work and you print something personal (and sensitive). Unfortunately, you've sent it to the wrong printer and, by the time you realize it, someone else has already scooped it up.
Dear Uncle Vinny,
Unfortunately, I cannot pick up this package for you. While it is with deepest regret that I must inform you of this,
I do promise that I will try to find someone that has my complete trust to fulfill this favor and I will find a way to
personally repay you for your kindness towards me.
Love, your goddaughter
File. Print. Okay.
Hopefully Uncle Vinny will understand. I knew the package held nothing illegal. He had promised me that he would not allow me to become involved in such activity. Apparently if you replaced all the pictures of his deceased daughter with mine, even he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. But even that doesn't mean this Godfather wouldn't find some favor to ask of you.
This one would have been easy enough. Pick up a package from a local vendor and FedEx it to him. Unfortunately, the time and date was nonnegotiable and I couldn't change my previous engagement. I very well couldn't tell the prosecuting lawyer that my testimony will have to wait because I have to pick up and send something for a mafia boss. One, don't think he would take it as a valid excuse. Two, my chief doesn't know about my connection to Uncle Vinny.
He's my great-grandfather's brother's grandson. I never even knew about him until after the church blew up (damn furnace). My father had never talked much about his family. I only recall him mentioning going to some funerals of some less-than-pure relatives when he was young. But all the same, Uncle Vinny took a personal interest. Only Craig and I survived and he took us both in. Cleaned some money and paid for all five years I spent at UC, earning my Criminal Justice and Psychology degrees and masters. Even paid for my time at the academy.
Of course, I don't think the possibility of setting up some 'business' in a new city didn't help influence his decision. Either way, he moved down to Cincinnati so Craig and I weren't separated. That was my biggest worry. Craig had been put into the foster system within his first few months of life and endured a custody battle that my aunt and uncle fortunately won. Then my uncle, the only dad he really knew, died when he was eight. At ten years old and a being a new orphan, I knew sticking together was the number one priority. And Uncle Vinny didn't even consider separating us and option. Not bad for a Godfather.
Without closing my letter, I made my work computer go into a password-protected mode and walked to the printer. I would have liked to call Uncle Vinny but phone calls are easily traced and a call between a police officer and mafia boss would probably send up a flag somewhere down the line. Sending an email was out of the question. He understood the ease of it for personal connections but anything to do with business had to stay as far away from computers as possible. He probably wouldn't even liked the fact I typed the letter, if I never saved an electronic copy.
As I approached the printer, I notice a lack of freshly printed upon paper in the tray. The relay between our computers and the printer is instantaneous and there were no lights blinking anywhere on the display. What in the…
"Officer Tanner, are you looking for a letter?" I turn to see my police chief holding my letter to my uncle mafia boss in his hand. There is no other way to put this.
Crap.