Mr Hardcastle Returns to Washington

by Latebloomnriter

There's a scandal in Washington and the powers that be want Hardcastle to resolve it-or do they?

Mr. Hardcastle Returns to Washington

Note: To the best of my knowledge and belief, this story is fair use of copyrighted material, as there is no commercial use and no loss of potential market or value of the original material will occur.

Music and Lyrics to Rio Bravo by Dimitri Tiomkin and Paul Francis Webster

The scandal was one of the bigger ones over the last few years. What did he know, and what did he do were questions that inconveniently erupted for one of the parties. The investigatory hearings were being scheduled and promised daily televised coverage on major networks. The person who would oversee the hearings was of great interest.

The Leader of one party said "Hardcastle's our man. I've checked his record. He's one of us."

The Leader of the other party said "Hardcastle's our man. I've reviewed his decisions. He's one of us."

Neither Leader looked closely enough at the background information to realize that Milton C. Hardcastle was his own man.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"Okay, you got everything? I don't want to miss the flight and we'll get out there a couple of days early. This trip will be good for ya, give you a chance to see how justice in action works at a national scale."

"Juuuudge, I've seen the so called justice system. On a national scale? Does that mean everyone in the country will be arrested for stealing their own cars?"

"No, wise guy, I didn't mean that at all. This involves our national lawmakers, committed to finding out the truth, and if any laws have been broken."

Mark threw up his hands "You can't seriously believe that, do you? All this is one political party trying to stick it to other political party in preparation for the next election. None of them care about the truth. The truth is going to be shoved up to the wall on turn four and flame out after a couple of laps."

"Listen up, kiddo-" Hardcastle stopped in early outburst and preliminary indignant finger wagging to answer the phone. "Hardcastle. Yeah. What? Whadda ya mean, there's not- ah the hell with it. Fine!" He slammed the phone down, scowling, before rubbing his nose and scratching his ear. Mark recognized the tactics, a warmup to uncomfortable news.

"What is it now?"

Hardcastle spoke more quietly, and began hesitantly. This was out of character. "Well, that was the parole board. They say I can't take you out of state."

"What? Why not?"

"Oh, it's something about me being too busy to keep an eye on you, with me running the hearings." He sighed. "Well, it was a good opportunity. It shouldn't take them long to find someone else, they must have had some backup people in mind."

"Whoa, hold the phone! Hardcase, you can't pass up this chance. Look, even though I doubt anyone really wants the truth, there's no one better to oversee this than you. You should go, Judge, I'll be fine."

The departure was delayed for a couple of days, while Hardcastle made alternative arrangements. "Right, Mattie Groves will have custody while I'm out of town. Do not make any extra work for her, okay? Call Jack Marsh if there are any legal problems, you've got Frank's number, oh, Charlie's office and home number are there for emergencies-"

"I'll be fine, Judge. No worries, kemo sabe. I'll get all the chores done without you here to distract me."

Both men pretended to believe those words.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

A welcoming committee was waiting for him. Hardcastle didn't see the point, seemed like a waste of damn money for all these people to greet him and drive him to his hotel. He could have taken a cab. This was, after all, his tax money which was being wasted.

The hotel further soured the mood of the defender of justice. "What is all this? And why is this guy hovering in the hallway?"

"Your Honor," said his escort disarmingly, "we want to be sure that nothing happens and you have proper security and privacy during the hearings."

Hardcastle uttered what would be the first of many grunts over the next days.

MMMMMMMMMMMM

The Judge found himself driven to a large series of heavily paneled offices, complete with enthusiastic young attorneys, who, he was told, would serve as his law clerks, as well as two secretaries. At least their names would be easy to remember: Mr. Adams (like John) Ms. Franklin (like Benjamin, sort of, since Ben really did like the ladies) Mrs. May (like his aunt) and Ms. Santos (like a cop he knew). They faced him with a mixture of jockeying for attention and politely waiting for his instructions.

Haardcastle tried not to be annoyed by the attention. They were his team, after all. "Okay, just everybody relax and just get to work. Where are the doughnuts?"

He shooed his clerks out to gather their briefing materials and turned to his secretaries. "Well, I'm not certain what I'll be doing that needs two secretaries-"

His secretaries were veterans of the political scene, having previously served as staff for various elected officials. "Judge," said Ms. Santos, "the phones have been ringing off the hook with calls from reporters looking for quotes and interviews. We'll be managing them as well as any of your statements." Mrs. May smiled politely in agreement, thinking that here was another neophyte she'd have to break in.

The phone had more buttons than the keys of Rosie's computer back home. "I'll be making some of my own calls, and taking them too. What's the direct line?"

"Just dial 9, Your Honor." He had a lot to learn.

"Okay, if you do get calls, from a Mark McCormick, put them through. Also, Judge Groves, Lt. Harper-that's Frank Harper, Jack Marsh, or Dr. Charles Friedman, put them through too. Now, I guess I'll get to work getting ready for tomorrow."

His staff continued with their unobserved but efficient running of Hardcastle's new office, speculating on who the assortment of names were, and what they meant to Judge Hardcastle.

HHHHHHHHHHHHH

The scene was like one of those movies set in medieval times, getting a knight ready for battle. He was handed his pens, and a notepad, and briefing documents, an item from each staff. "This isn't a war zone, ya know," he grumbled when his robe was held for him like a suit of armor. He felt a bit naked without Millie and the holster for backup, but supposed the security must be good enough in Congress.

The camera placement annoyed him. He hadn't expected that would be a problem, but it was necessary if people were to see justice in action. Hardcastle would prove his point to McCormick.

So it began….

Hardcastle's fellow panelists began with statements, and questioning. Many statements, and not so many different question.

"You want to move it along, Senator? I think we've heard about all the different variations of 'no' ever invented."

"What do you mean, 'misspoke?' Where I come from, that's called a lie."

"The best of your knowledge, huh? Your best isn't so good. We just heard from several witnesses and have a stack of documents that say otherwise. Care to try again?"

It didn't take long. Judge Milton C. Hardcastle became a plain-speaking sensation.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Mark fell into a new routine, which, if he thought about it, would have surprised him. His attention though was fixed on the hearings, and he was up early and glued to the television for the broadcasts on Eastern Time. The hearings did not provide the only spoken words in the room, as Mark kept a lively one-sided conversation at the testimony and Hardcastle's comments.

"That's telling him, Judge! You may be a donkey, but that guy's a jackass!"

"I can't believe these guys got so much political power! I can lie better than that!"

"Throw the book and the gavel at 'em, Judge!"

HHHHHHHHHHH

Time magazine wasted little time in putting Hardcastle on the cover. So did several other magazines, and his name and reactions were put to good use by political humorists and comedians. The Judge himself was not forthcoming about his personal life and refused all requests for interviews.

It was Mark, rather than Hardcastle, who began to sense that the Judge was not performing as expected, and that consequences may be forthcoming. The news articles began to unnerve him, and he wondered, with increasing alarm, how the presence of the ex-con would reflect on the incorruptible Judge.

HHHHHHHHHHh

Damn weeds. What were they thinking, growing like, well, weeds, and needing removal when there were hearings to be televised. He finished digging up the plants down to the roots, and gathered them up.

"Hey, Mark, how's it going?" Frank Harper didn't have time to add to his greeting. Mark had yelped and thrown the weeds in the air, most of them landing on Frank.

"Damn, Frank, what the hell are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?"

"Me? What the hell are you so nervous about?" He brushed a weed off his shoulder and sleeve.

Mark grabbed Frank's arm. "There isn't a problem, is there? Did I do something wrong? I swear, I was only barely over the speed limit, it wasn't me that scratched that car in the grocery parking lot-"

Frank picked a section of root off his shirt. Damn, it still had soil and mulch clinging to it, and it smudged his shirt. He sighed. "Nothing is wrong, Mark. I just came to see how you're doing. What's got you so jumpy? I mean, more than usual?"

Mark took a breath and seemed to compose himself. He brushed the remaining plant parts off Frank clothes, successfully leaving more smudges. Frank finally slapped his hand away. "You gonna answer my question? What's going on?"

"Frank, haven't you seen what's happening? The Judge is a celebrity, and he's really going after the truth in these hearings. Both sides look bad, and neither wants that. They're digging into his life-what will they think about the resident con, and what if I screw up if he's gone?" Mark looked warily around, as if suspecting a hidden camera to uncover some unwelcome information.

"I think you're exaggerating. Anyway, I'm glad you're not so far gone that you're glued to the TV every day."

"Well, it's-" Mark glanced at his watch. "I can't believe I lost track of time! It's on now!" He dropped his gardening tools and bolted for the door.

MMMMMMMM

"Judge Hardcastle's office. May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Frank Harper."

Mrs. May was intrigued. No calls from Hardcastle's list had come to the office before this. There had been media inquiries (rejected) and calls from fellow hearing panelists (cursed at) but none from a name on the list (immediately accepted).

Hardcastle didn't imagine that Frank was calling just to chat. The Judge's voice had an edge to it as he spoke into the phone. Something must be wrong.

"Yeah, Frank. What's happening?"

Hardcastle's concern was anticipated. "Milt, just take it easy. Nobody's hurt or in trouble. I just want to let you know that Mark is a bit of a basket case at the moment."

That didn't sound too urgent. Perhaps he had overreacted. "So what else is new? When isn't he a basket case?"

"I mean, more than usual. He's worried about you, that he may do something that would reflect badly on you. He's so worked up that he might screw something up and embarrass you that he's tripping over himself. Anyway, what I wanted to do is let you know that I'm going to borrow him for a couple of days, and work on remodeling that extra bedroom now that we finally got a kid out of the house, into a crafts room for Claudia. He can focus on the task, he'll be around us instead of staring at the TV screen watching your broadcasts, and I think he'll settle down. Then we'll have him for dinner."

Hardcastle grunted. "Bet he tastes lousy."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

She was one of the most anticipated witnesses. As the administrative assistant with a security clearance, she handled all the papers. She was also a very attractive young woman. Most panelists assumed she was having an affair with her boss, or wished they were having an affair. At any rate, it wouldn't do for most of them to grill the young lady. Audiences wouldn't like it.

Milton C. Hardcastle didn't care what the audience wanted. He wanted the truth.

Questioning was soft. No repeated questions, and the tone was mild-until it was Hardcastle's turn. There was nothing mild about his tone. People who dealt with him in court would have recognized it. Cops, witnesses, attorneys and Mark McCormick knew when Hardcase was at the limit of his tolerance.

"No one seems to be asking the obvious questions, so I'll do it. I want to know if you showed those documents to anyone, if anyone, and if so who, mentioned showing them, and if you know of anyone who saw them. Back to the first question. Did you show those documents to anyone? Yes or no?"

Then…

"Don't cut me off Senator! The witness will answer my questions!"

Then…

"Give it a rest, okay? If this is all the evidence, I'd have tossed it at arraignment."

Then….

"Don't drop this now! This is evidence of an actual offense!"

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The call home that night was lively. "Do you believe that those jerks tried to distract and obfuscate? What the hell do they think all this is about?"

"No." Mark was adamant. "No more of this tonight. We need a break. Hang on a minute." Hardcastle heard some rustling, like papers were being unfolded and pages turned.

"Here it is. Do you get the classic movie channel out there?"

"Probably. There seems to be dozens of channels on here." Hardcastle checked to cable guide by the television. "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay. I'll call you back in-ah-twenty minutes. Rio Bravo will be on at the same time across the time zones. We are going to watch that movie!"

So they did, talking back at the screen, over the phone, as if they hadn't seen the movie several times already.

"Hey! It's that guy again!"

"What guy?"

"Burdette, the guy in jail who shot Ward Bond from Wagon Train!"

"You mean Claude Akins."

"Yeah! Claude Akins. Is there a movie or TV show that guy didn't appear in?"

"No."

Then…

""Oooooh, Police Woman. Angie Dickinson. How come none of the cops who arrested me looked like her?"

"See, Angie Dickinson there, is playing what's called a 'Hawks woman.' The director here, Howard Hawks, used a lot of tough women in his movies. They could hold their own with any man, smart, but feminine too."

"I want one of those."

"Kiddo, you got a long ways to go yet before you can win over a Hawks woman."

"I like her better as a blonde."

Then, as the movie closed, they sang together along with Dean Martin "..while the river Rio Bravo flows along!"

MMMMMMMMMMMM

The Party Leader was concerned. "This isn't going well. Hardcastle keeps digging into the coverup and we look bad."

The leader of the other Party was concerned. "This isn't going well. He isn't digging into what we want and we look bad."

The Leader of the Party said "We need to make some calls."

The Leader of the other Party said "We need to make some calls."

HHHHHHHHHHH

"What do you mean, the investigation is over?"

"We have the answers, Judge, thanks to you and the others. He has confessed that he was the only one involved and will be entering into a plea deal."

"The only one? There's half a dozen people who could be indicted!"

"Both parties are satisfied that justice has been done, Judge. We thank you for your time."

That was it, then. The hearings would never expose the whole truth of who did what, who knew about it, who lied about knowing about it. Hardcastle was not blind to political behavior, though he hated it. He had done his best. They could keep their machinations and dirty dealings. He was headed for home.

He felt the steady pull of home as the plane began its descent. Hardcastle was progressively lulled out of his bad mood thinking of home, and his plans. The lull was being replaced by something more positive, and the Judge was beginning to feel more energized about future possibilities and experiences. Home had that effect on him.

Home was waiting for him at the arrival gate, sporting that goofy grin and flashing those damn dimples. Hardcastle welcomed the embrace conveyed by a handshake held longer and firmer than most, and by his bag being taken from his hand.

He hadn't failed, completely. He still had his home.

Author's Note: Prolific character actor Claude Akins did seem to pop up everywhere in a decades-long career.