*Warm greetings! Thank you for continuing to read my story. I'm over the moon that you find it entertaining.


Mark doubts the imposing lion head door knocker is intended for use. He rings Sue Ellen's doorbell instead. The doormat says "Don't mess with Texas" inside the State's shape. The tall shiny black door opens and Sue Ellen greets him with a hug, a quick little back patter. This must be hard for her. The always elegant and seemingly confident woman is pale and puffy-eyed, wrapped in a blue silk robe. No make-up or jewelry, she looks beyond tired, almost frail. Mark wonders for the first time if she truly is up to the game of politics.

"Hi, come on in. I'm glad you're here," she says with a faint smile. Just the boost he needed.

"Ding Dong?" He offers her the box and instantly regrets it. How stupid. He laughs nervously. "I'm sorry. What can I say, I'm a stress eater."

She smiles, "And a coffee drinker. There's a fresh pot in the kitchen. Help yourself. Pour me a mug too, would you? Just a dash of sugar. We can work in the atrium," she says herding the dogs toward it.

The aroma welcomes Mark in the stately kitchen. He takes two cups off the mug tree and pours. He opens the cupboard above the coffee maker expecting to find sugar but is startled by pill bottles and boxes of medicine stacked nearly to the top. What is this? He thought Sue Ellen only needed one pill a day now. He glances over his shoulder before looking closer at some labels. All prescriptions for her but several years old from what he can quickly see. Why has she kept all this? Sue Ellen's dog Bowie brushing against his legs almost scares him out of his skin. He closes the cupboard and joins her in the atrium.

They go over the incident once more and agree on the most suspicious things to ask Boone about. Mark dials him on his cell and presses the speaker button.

"Hello?" Lucy says.

"Hi Luce, it's Mark. I'm here with Sue Ellen and we need to ask Boone a few questions about what happened. Can you wake him please?"

"Hey there Sue Ellen. Pretty exciting night, huh? I just about died when I saw your face on the internet like that. I mean wow, it - "

"Lucy we don't have a lot of time here. Can you just put Boone on please?" Mark says and rolls his eyes.

"Oh well excuse me, boss man," Lucy says. "Hold your horses, alright?"

"Thank you Lucy," Sue Ellen squeezes in but Lucy is already off the line.

After some long minutes, Boone picks up. "Whatchoo got for me, lil' bro?"

"Morning Boone, sorry for the early wake-up call."

"Naw, no worries. Whatchoo got?" he drawls.

"I'm sitting here with Sue Ellen at her place - "

"Stop right there. Whose phone you on?"

"Mine, why?" Mark asks.

"Good. Listen here, do not connect me and Sue Ellen with phones. You get me?"

"Not really, no," Mark says, dreading what sounds like paranoia.

"Come on you're a smart little shit, Marky. Say this story rolls and the media starts askin' the Police Department about the stop. And say there ain't no record of it, which I can damn near guarantee going off them sick pictures and my professional intuition. What's that look like? A cover up, that's what. Then people gonna ask what needed covering. They're gonna think Sue Ellen was drunk and now the record of it's gone and disappeared. Oh and looky here, her campaign man's brother is a policeman and his wife's her niece. Then Boone gets to talk to them Internal Affairs sumbitches about why there's phone calls between me and Sue Ellen Ewing and how much was I paid to delete the report? And then me and Lucy will be sleeping on your couch when I'm fired."

Sue Ellen and Mark stare at his cell phone on the table. Mark wipes his moistening hands on his pants. "Wow. Okay. I get it. You're right. I'm on board now. I'm uh, I'm just talking to my own brother on my own phone. That cool?"

"That's cool, bro. Go."

Mark describes the incident as Sue Ellen listens. A mere 10 minutes later, he's heard enough.

"This here was a fake stop, yes indeed. Lemme tell you why. One: Never approach the driver's side. Know why? 'Cause you don't know who you're walkin' up on or what they just done. Standard officer safety. Approach the passenger side until determining the subject is clear of wants and warrants, unless you'd like to increase your chances of being shot in the damn face. Don't matter who the plate comes back to, could be an as yet unreported stolen car with the crook driving. This fool come up on Sue Ellen's side 'cause he already knew she was driving. Two: Deserted road. He found Sue Ellen on it 'cause he followed her there. Now do we have ourselves a perv who seen Sue Ellen somewhere and set to stalking her or do we have somebody's operative? That is yet undetermined. Three: No reason for the stop. Absolutely not legit, brother. Upon detaining the subject, which was done without question when he brung her out the car, state the reason for taking the subject's right to leave unless you would like to be sued in a court of law for violating civil rights," Boone pauses.

"Oh well thank you, sugar," he says. Mark and Sue Ellen hear a succession of kisses. "Lucy brought me some coffee, and some sugar, hahaha! She loves to hear me talk police. I think it turns her on," Boone says.

"Boone! Focus!" Mark says.

"Right. Right. Okay so, what number was I on?"

"Four," Mark says.

"Oh yeah. Four: No name tag. Not gonna happen. That there's a matter of pride, not just policy. It's your name that earned the badge. The only officer without a name tag is the one who left it off on purpose. Five: Leaving the scene before the traffic stop subject. What's gonna happen if that subject falls over dead with a heart attack right there from the stress of the stop and you're a mile down the road? Their family's gonna come lookin' for pay day from the city of Dallas for endangerment, that's what. Always clear the scene. And let's call this next one five-and-a-half: No dispatches from the officer's radio. It is remotely possible there was no air traffic during the entire stop, but I got a better reason. He didn't have a radio because he wasn't even working," Boone pauses, waiting for their astonishment.

"You hear me? You get it?" Boone asks. Sue Ellen and Mark look at each other. "Okay lemme break it down for ya. You get some gear when you report for duty to log on for service, taser gun, shotgun and radio. That stuff don't go home with you like your firearm, cuffs and uniform do. Now sounds like it was a real police vehicle, but that ain't no big thing. One key fits all police cars and we keep those in our lockers. Wouldn't be nothin' to come in on a day off, suit up in uniform after the locker room's cleared out, grab a police car and do this thing. Can't say anyone would even notice. And you were never there as far as dispatch is concerned."

Mark is speechless and Sue Ellen looks furious. How dare that man violate her like that. She knew something wasn't right about him. Instantly she shifts from distraught to determined for revenge. Even the hurtful reader comments from the article stop gnawing at her.

"Hey! Hello? Did I put you to sleep or something?" Boone says.

"No, no," Mark says. "Holy shit, Boone. That's….I'm just - "

"What? Amazed at my supreme intelligence?" Boone laughs heartily. "Well we all shine our own stars, don't we?"

"We sure do. Thank you so much, from both of us," Mark says.

"You bet. Happy I could crack the case. Now I told you what stinks about this, but I sure can't tell you what to do for your campaign. You're on your own there. But I do know what needs doing to uphold the integrity of the law. That black glove, did you touch it Mark?"

"No."

"Good. Keep it that way. Have Sue Ellen put it in a sealed envelop and Mark you drop it by to Lucy ASAP. I'll call in a favor with my crime lab friend. Now mind you, any evidence from it won't be admissible in court because I didn't take the chain of custody, but it might tell us who this rogue officer is. Then I can do my own investigating, see what this is all about on the down low. The Department's gonna look into it if the right people see the story. They'll wanna know the field test results and who gave it. There's no record of it and no officer will come forward. Management might dismiss it as professional courtesy from a nervous officer, Sue Ellen being a public figure and all. But if it heats up, this fella will float me as a scape goat. It's a smart set up, I gotta admit. But I'm smarter, so don't you worry."


Sue Ellen paces the atrium as Mark types away on his laptop. She stops in front of the east wall of windows. Tapping her black lacquered nails slowly against the glass, she feels like a caged tiger. Well. We will see who becomes the prey and the hunter in the end.

"Sue Ellen? Please, do you mind?" Mark asks, distracted by her nail tapping.

"Oh, of course. Sorry."

She folds her arms and turns back to face the window. What a strange night it's been. She went from a surprisingly enjoyable dinner with JR to a DUI set up to weird rituals and warnings from Ruby to a meltdown on the phone with Mark to right here, watching the daylight pulling at the sky's darkness. Somewhere out there Harris Ryland is relishing her turmoil. He's got to be behind this. She remembers scoffing at JR's warning not to lose the upper hand. What would he do now, she wonders.

"I'm done," Mark calls out to her. She walks over and curls up on the chaise lounge across from him. Crockett lays with his head on Mark's feet. "Alright, I think we need to keep your response focused on being sober, not accusing the police of wrong doing. And I want you to seem like a regular person grateful for officers enforcing safety, not a politician offended by the implications."

Sue Ellen nods her head. "Makes sense," she says and Mark hands her the laptop. After reading the statement she says, "It's good. Really good. I'm comfortable with this."

"Great. Now I'd like to be comfortable too. And telling me who is after you would really help. You owe me that, Sue Ellen. You know more than you're saying."

Sue Ellen looks up from the laptop, surprised at Mark's boldness. His young green eyes hold her gaze, unwavering. She bites her lip, picks up her coffee cup but puts it back down. "It's Harris Ryland. I'm almost sure," she says and looks away.

"What's he want with you? Is it the cold truck stuff I told you about?"

Sue Ellen sighs, unsure how much to disclose but wanting to give Mark the honesty he deserves. "Take a look around this room, Mark. Who do you see in nearly every photograph?" she asks.

"Your son. Wait, your son? Is he…...is Ryland his father?"

"Oh please, no! Absolutely not. I am not, nor have I ever been, attracted to Harris Ryland. Besides, that man is reptilian. I doubt he's capable of creating a baby. He probably eats his young," she says. Mark notes the button he's pushed.

"My son is the center of my universe, Mark. I love him dearly and I'd do anything for him. Anything. And I'm ashamed to say it wasn't always like that." Sue Ellen takes that sip of coffee now, a short delaying of what comes next.

"I got extremely depressed after he was born. His father and I, well, let's just say our marriage was less than blissful. JR and I fought constantly. Being around him felt like airplane turbulence to me, jarring, sinking, unpredictable. I tried to hang on to him, but he pushed me away, and he had his reasons, he did. But the more he loved John Ross, the less it felt like he loved me and I started resenting my baby. He earned JR's love so easily…and I….I started feeling like I was being punished for…" Sue Ellen trails off. Mark sits frozen, he is in uncharted territory now and is starting to look for the exit sign.

As if sensing his apprehension, Sue Ellen regroups. "Anyway, John Ross didn't have the happiest childhood with his parents carrying on like JR and I did. Even so, he turned out to be a fine young man, a good son - "

"I thought you said earlier he wouldn't call you back?"

Sue Ellen dismisses the notion with a wave of her hand, "Never mind that. I was just upset about this DUI mess. He's a good boy. He's just busy, that's all."

John Ross is a spoiled, selfish guy too dumb to see what a loving, devoted mother he has, Mark would like to say at this moment. "Sure, I get that," he says instead. Never attack the family. You'll be the odd man out in the end.

Sue Ellen continues, "So, even though John Ross is all grown up and that parental drama is behind us, I still feel like I need to make it up to him, what I put him through. When he needs help, no matter how old he is, I will always help him, at all costs," she says.

"Okay, well how nice to have a mom like you watching his back but what's this got to do with Harris Ryland?"

"Mark, you're a young man, a smart, kind, capable young man with your whole future ahead of you. I don't want you getting mixed up in something that might tarnish your career and if I tell you everything I know, that just might happen. So you're gonna have to trust me on this and be satisfied with what I will share with you on the matter, understand?"

Mark feels the paradigm shift, Sue Ellen's back in charge and frankly, he's glad of it. "Understood. Man I thought I was curious before. You sure know how to build suspense," Mark says and grabs the last Ding Dong from the box.

Sue Ellen smiles and gets up from the chaise. She stands at the window and continues speaking with her back turned. "A few weeks ago John Ross was in trouble, big trouble, for something he did not do. I saw a chance to make it all go away for him and I took it. I crossed the line. I asked someone, an important someone, to lie about something in return for a favor. Harris found out about it and has tried to blackmail me ever since. He asked to launder money through our PAC and I refused. He's not used to getting no for an answer and you saw his response tonight with that DUI stop, but I didn't realize it at the time."

"A favor? As in a bribe?" Mark looks incredulous.

"Mark, what did I tell you? What you don't know can't hurt you. And this favor wouldn't have hurt anyone else, either. So let's just leave it at that."

Mark loudly blows air out of his mouth. He hadn't even tasted that last Ding Dong. "I need a drink. No offense, but really, I need to pound one," he says.

"Sorry, honey. This house is dry," she says, patting him on the shoulder on her way to the kitchen. "Let me put on some fresh coffee. And I'll make you breakfast, okay?"

"Sue Ellen, wait, the cold truck information? You threatened him with it, right? Don't answer that. Let's just say you shared that information with him, and what did you hope would happen?"

"Well honestly, and obviously naively, I hoped he'd just leave me alone. Call it even and leave me alone."

"And he didn't. He came at you in a big way. He's a bully and I really hate bullies," Mark says, making Sue Ellen think of his earlier admission. She wonders if he's been bullied and wants to ask him about it.

"My point is," Mark continues, "you got a rise out of him big enough to orchestrate this fake traffic stop."

"So? I've already shown my cards on the cold trucks," Sue Ellen says.

"Yes but his whole hand is still close to his chest, I'd bet on it. We need to make him fold. I just know there's something huge behind this cold truck stuff and I'm gonna find it," Mark says.

Sue Ellen giggles, delighted. "We make a good team, don't we? Men like Harris Ryland don't give women a lick of credit for anything, especially not revenge. Well I'm happy to school him on that," she says. They clink coffee cups.

"But in the meantime let's deal with the task at hand. Let me get this statement out," Mark says and presses 'send'. Media inboxes all over Texas receive this email:

SUE ELLEN EWING
Dallas Campaign Headquarters
550 Alamo Road, Dallas TX 75236

April 10, 2012

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

ATTN: Media News Desks
SUBJ: Statement on Field Sobriety Photos Published Online This Date
CONTACT: Mark Ellis, Campaign Manager,

I would like to provide some context for photographs of me published online today. I was in fact stopped by a Dallas police officer on my way home last night and given a field sobriety test. I passed the exam and was allowed to continue on my way without further investigation. As many of you know, I once struggled to achieve sobriety but am proud to be alcohol-free for the past 20 years. Although unsettling to have my sobriety challenged, I applaud the Dallas Police Department for working to keep our highways safe and free of drunk drivers. I hope you will agree with me that a few moments of discomfort in the cold night air performing a simple test is certainly worth the safety of Texan motorists.

I am unsure how the photographs of me came to be online, but I would like to thank whoever is responsible for giving me this opportunity to reach out to fellow Texans struggling with their own sobriety. It is a difficult, sometimes overwhelming goal but I encourage you to conquer one day at a time and find no shame in getting the help you need. There is life outside the bottle, and it is quite wonderful I can assure you. Please see below for a list of sober living help groups I endorse. You are not alone and I am your biggest cheerleader.

Your sister in sobriety,
Sue Ellen Ewing


The rising sun peaks over Harris Ryland's shoulder. He's been looking at Sue Ellen's DUI internet pictures for nearly half an hour, not something he would easily admit. He clicks back to the article, anxious to see some more venomous reader comments. The article announces an update under the photos. "Statement from Sue Ellen Ewing", it says. Excellent. She's seen them. She's seen her face twisted with fear, her usually controlled composure stripped away in the wind. He did that with just a phone call. Imagine if he took matters into his own hands. She'd be rocking on the floor, broken, unrecognizable to those who hold her in high esteem now. Harris feels a tingle at the very thought.

He pours himself another scotch and begins reading the statement, expecting apologies but hoping for denial. Insisting she was sober will start an investigation. Imagine the surprise when there is no record of the stop. Very suspicious. Harris chuckles and drains his drink.

He stops halfway through the first paragraph, holding the swallow of scotch in his mouth. His eyes narrow as he reads on, not liking the gracious tone of Sue Ellen's message. He swallows his liquor and re-reads one sentence several times, "I am unsure how the photographs of me came to be online, but I would like to thank whoever is responsible for giving me this opportunity to reach out to fellow Texans struggling with their own sobriety."

She knows. She knows he's behind this and she is mocking him. Harris hurls his scotch glass against the wall. The glass smashes to pieces and the lone ice cube bounces on the hard wood floor, slowly spinning in a small puddle of itself. He walks over and crushes it under his foot. He looks out the window at the golden morning and inhales deeply. He smooths both hands over his hair and down his neck. Moments later, he pivots on his heels and walks back to the computer. He visits Sue Ellen's campaign website and writes down the location and time of her Fort Worth rally today.


JR awakens earlier than he'd like to on this Sunday morning. He'd always been an early bird but he has no worms to catch now. Or does he? He promised Sue Ellen a shoulder tap for Harris Ryland and his amateur video blackmail. JR looks at the clock again. Too early to call his contact just yet. Wanting to fall back to sleep, he gets up to pull the drapes completely closed on the bright morning light. Rising from his king sized bed, his back and hip protest with stiffness. The pain makes JR try to stand up even faster. He'll show this old body who's still in charge. His knee joint cracks loudly with its first step.

He stands at the balcony window a moment, gazing out on Southfork basking in the early morning glow. How many hundreds of times had he rushed out the driveway paying no mind at all to this beauty, so anxious to get to the office? What he'd like to do most right now is ride a fine stallion over the ranch's green pastures. Just ride and ride under the shade of his Stetson brim. He laughs softly. Youth truly is wasted on the young. He closes the drapes and turns back to his bed. His empty bed. He sits down at the foot of it, his back turned on the memory of what it felt like to have Sue Ellen laying next to him. Minutes pass before he gets up slowly and walks downstairs.

The house is still quiet. JR makes his way to the kitchen. His note to Carmen about preparing a formal dinner tonight is still undisturbed on the refrigerator. He puts some coffee on and walks to the front door to retrieve the Sunday paper. When Teresa was here, the coffee would be ready and the paper on the table, right in front of Daddy's chair by now. And breakfast would be cooking. What's the help come to? Arriving whenever they damn well please? The help should be here no later than the earliest riser of the family. Just another thing Bobby's let fall by the wayside along with all the other Ewing ways no longer honored in this house.

JR shakes his head and opens the front door. Sue Ellen's crying face is looking up at him from the paper on the ground. He bends down and back up so quickly he wobbles with dizziness for a moment. Steadying himself with one hand on the door jam, he holds the paper up for a close look at the pictures. Good god. What has she gotten herself into?

He sits down at the table with a thud and reads the article. It's definitely Sue Ellen and it's definitely that dress….that dress….He reels his mind back in. The article says "a source" sent the pictures shortly after he and Sue Ellen were seen leaving the Omni last night. Well unless she had a couple of pints stashed in the back seat of the Porsche, she didn't have much time to get drunk from straight sober. JR's eyebrows raise as he looks again at the photos. These are crisp, close up shots, no blur whatsoever from a passing vehicle. The officer took these photos, no question. JR's sixth sense kicks in, his blackmail radar strongly pings. This stinks of Harris Ryland.

He looks at the kitchen clock, a silly ceramic number with muffins on the ends of the hour and minute hands and cherries around the numbers. JR grimaces at it. It's 7:30 now, a respectable enough time for that phone call.

"Hello," the groggy voice says on the line.

"Good mornin' Russell! It's your old buddy JR Ewing. Listen I am sorry for waking you this early on a Sunday but - "

"Well god damn if I don't believe my ears, fuzzy as they may be at this ungodly hour. How you doin' JR? I didn't even know you were back around. You at Southfork, or…."

"Yes, yes Russell I sure am. Of course I am. Southfork is still my ranch, don't matter how old these bones get, there's no denying my birthright now is there? Hahaha. Tell that to my little brother, would you?"

Russell laughs. "Well what can I do for you, JR? You, uh, you got somethin' for me?"

"Matter of fact I do, Russell. Say, you still crazy about our Cowboys? Still like to catch a game now and again?"

"Oh you bet, JR. Who don't? Can't say as I go too often, on a trucker's salary and all."

"I understand. I surely do. Well listen here Russell, I think we just may have what they call a win-win situation right here." Russell is quiet. JR can nearly feel the electricity of his anticipation through the phone. Some things never change, thankfully.

"I've got four season tickets to the Dallas Cowboys that'll just go to waste with me. I've got other things need tending to nowadays."

"Uh huh," Russell says.

"So, what do you say I give you those tickets and you take a few of your Union brothers along and enjoy yourselves?"

"Yeah! Yeah okay! I can do that, I can do that real good, JR. Now what can I do for you?"

"I want you to call your contact with the Commercial Enforcement police. I want you to tell him to pay special attention to Ryland Trucking, both inbound and outbound. I think there's some serious violations on our Dallas highways. Tonnage, licensing, all of it. As much as he can, understand?"

"Damn. Who pissed you off, JR? Those violations are expensive sons of bitches. Upwards of forty, fifty thousand for a big overage. This the way you wanna go?"

"That's right. And I wanna go all the way to the line with it. And if your boy keeps it clean and I don't get questions from anyone who matters, he gets ten percent in cash of the total violations written against Ryland Trucking in the next 30 days from me. How you like that?"

"Hell I wish I worked Commercial Enforcement. Shoot."

JR throws his head back and laughs. Nothing like a dirty deal to start the day off right. He walks back to the kitchen, takes the muffin clock off the wall and throws it in the trash.


It's after 8:30 in the morning. Sue Ellen must be up by now. Her rally's in a few hours. JR checks his cell phone again. No missed calls. He reads her statement online again and smiles. I tip my hat to you darlin'. That's a good play. That's the governor talking, but where is Sue Ellen in all this? She must be so upset. She needs help. Why hasn't she asked him for it? He picks up his cell again. He wonders how accurate the missed call feature is. Surely she's called him by now, if not right after the stop itself? Or maybe she's too ashamed….He finds his fingers dialing her personal number.

"This is Sue Ellen. Leave a message and I'll call you back just as soon as I can. Bye bye now."

"Sue Ellen, honey, I saw the paper. That nonsense, the pictures, I am truly sorry darlin'. I know for a fact you were sober as a judge. If you need me to tell anyone that, or do anything for you, anything at all, you let me know Sue Ellen. Ryland's behind this, you probably don't see that but I do. I hate to say I told you so but remember what I said at dinner? He's gonna come back at you if you don't keep the upper hand? Well that's what's goin' on here honey. So you call me when you want my help and I'll send this snake back to the tall grass, cryin' for his mama." JR ends the call. For some reason he could not bring himself to say 'goodbye'.

About an hour later, JR's phone sounds a text message alert. He removes it from his pocket to read what Sue Ellen wrote:

"JR thank you for your kind words. I am alright. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I am handling this. See you tonight at Southfork." Attached to the message is the cell phone picture the waitress took of the two of them.