Chapter 9

Saturday, August 30, 1997 – Los Angeles

When Gordon Thompson arrived at the office around eleven, Inez had already gone home, and Enos was still working on the photos that he'd received from Interpol. Using the table in one of the interview rooms to spread out the images, he was attempting, again, to find a match with the medical examiner photos of Jane, horrific as they were, and the sketch artist's rendering of what Jane most likely looked like when she was alive. He'd read bulletins about facial recognition software being used on a military level or for some large international banking systems, but it was still in its infancy for law enforcement. This case could benefit from something high tech like that.

Interpol had sent a synopsis of the case file on each girl along with the pictures. There was also the possibility the poor child had no one where she was from and was never even reported missing. Perhaps she was a runaway or lived on the street. It was not uncommon for the homeless to go unaccounted for and not missed or reported missing. It happened in big cities every day.

Enos rubbed his eyes again and was stretching when Thompson stepped into the room. "Sorry, Thompson, I didn't see anything on the schedule. Do you need the room?"

"No," Thompson said. He tweaked his left eyebrow and crossed his arms, trying to figure how to segue to the reason he was there. "I was just wondering how it was going...," He cleared his throat, "…with your Jane Doe. I heard you got some feedback from Interpol."

Enos wondered what ulterior motive Thompson might have for asking and thought about coming back with 'how's the high school cadet program going?' But he didn't. Thompson deserved at least a modicum of civility, if for no other reason than that he was a member of the unit. And Enos Strate was a gentleman when he wasn't being provoked. Working together, they had wrung a confession out of Ezra Williams without having to cause Mrs. Al-Fasi any more grief, as well as defusing what might have become a volatile media circus surrounding a perceived hate crime. The Assistant District Attorney had even been able to exact a gag order as part of a plea deal.

It irked Enos no end that it had to come down to that, but the primary objective was to allay Mrs. Al-Fasi's fears that her husband, as well as the male members of her family, might think she encouraged the attack.

"So far, I've eliminated ten of the thirty-three photos they sent b'cause they're not the right height. But that information's not completely reliable. Descriptions from parents or relatives aren't accurate compared to the M.E.'s measurement. I'm afraid it's just throwin' the baby out with the bathwater, but I had to start somewhere." He crossed his arms and stared at the table full of images ranging from class photos to candid family shots.

"Maybe you're too close to it."

Enos had taken all the courses and read all the manuals and studied all the textbooks that warned about getting personally invested in cases or in the victims; that it would eventually eat you up inside. His psych evaluations always noted a 'high level of empathy.' He took things to heart. He got involved and allowed that it made some, especially here in L.A., particularly Thompson, think he was naïve and a bit too soft-hearted for police work. But he reckoned it was better to bear whatever suffering that may cause than to become cold and hard and feel nothing at all. He'd had his own personal crisis with how the job, and the things which couldn't be unseen, could tear at a soul from the inside out, and he'd survived.

"I know you think I'm obsessin' about this case. Maybe I am. But I still have to try."

"No, I didn't mean you're obsessive. I mean...I mean you're too focused on this particular activity, and that may be skewing your perspective. I know you think I don't focus enough. But, maybe you need to step back from it. Go fishing or bowling, or whatever it is you do to get your mind off things. Give it a rest and come back with a fresh eye on Monday. It will probably jump right out at you."

Enos couldn't deny that the man made sense. He'd been staring at the file for weeks, and the frustration was beginning to wear on him. Turk was fond of saying that once he got an idea in his head, it took a crowbar to get it out.

"You're probably right," he said and saw, not gloating, but genuine interest on Thompson's face. As much as he loathed to admit it, Enos wondered if the friction between them had been as much his fault as Thompson's. Gathering up the photos, he put them back in the folder and tucked it under his arm.

"Thanks," he said. "And thanks for your help the other day."

"Yep. No problem."

Before leaving the office, he asked Thompson if he'd ever been to the Bloody Bucket.

"You mean that country bar on La Cienega?"

"That's the one."

"No, never been."

"Most of the gang in the unit will be there tonight. We do it once a month."

"Yep. I know." Thompson didn't state the obvious – that he had never been invited.

"Got a friend from Narcotics Division I haven't seen in a while comin' too. It's a real hoot. You should join them."

"Wait. You're inviting me, and it sounds like you're not planning to be there?"

"I'm goin' to a concert tonight at the music center with my...I have a date. We might be by after that."

Enos hadn't consulted Soonie but thought he might bring it up before the concert started. She hadn't said she didn't want to go to the Bloody Bucket at all, she only said she wanted to go to the concert instead. He reasoned that even if they didn't show up, Thompson might be able to mend some fences.

"I'm not sure the rest of your gang would be too thrilled with me showing up. Unless you hadn't noticed, I've been persona non grata lately."

"Yeah, sorry about that. You just need to let um get to know you a little better. I know a country bar might not be your cup o' tea, not really theirs either, truth be told. But we kinda got into the habit. You can kick up your heels and make as much ruckus as you want without the management throwin' you out, within reason...and it serves alcohol."

"I didn't think that you drank."

"I don't, but they do."

Before he was scheduled to pick up Soonie, he spent several hours of the afternoon cleaning his apartment, trying to focus on something other than Jane's case. When he started dusting the dresser in his bedroom, his mind went immediately to the conversation with Daisy the week before.

Because he rarely received calls at his apartment that were not work-related, he'd fallen into a well-worn habit of answering with his rank and surname. That night, he hadn't looked at the caller ID before he picked up the receiver.

He thought the line had gone dead or that it might be a crank call for a few seconds, then he heard her voice for the first time in four months.

"Enos?"

"Daisy..." He slumped into the desk chair, propped his elbow onto the desk, and buried his head in his free hand. Daisy's picture stared at him from the nightstand in the other room.

"Enos, it's so good to hear your voice."

"Oh, Daisy, it's good to hear yours. I'm so sorry…" He blurted out the last part.

"Enos, what would you have to be sorry about? I'm the one who should be apologizing to you."

"No. It was all my fault."

"How could it ever be your fault? I'm the one who let you down."

"You could never do that, Daisy. Never in a lifetime. I shoulda' given you some time. I shoulda' been satisfied…" Enos took his face out of his hand.

"Now you listen to me, Enos Strate. If you think I'm gonna let you get away with shoulderin' the blame for what happened, you got another think comin'."

"Daisy, it doesn't matter who's to blame. I don't wanna talk about that. I miss you so much."

"Oh, Enos. I miss you too. I can't even begin to tell you how much. I should have called you sooner. I should have kept in touch all those years..."

"It's all water under the bridge now, Daisy. I wanna know how you've been doin'. How's the work goin' on your doctorate?"

"...it's almost all over but the shouting. I should be working on my final dissertation when I get back to Duke."

"I'm so proud of you. When you goin' back to North Carolina?"

"Tomorrow."

"I guess you'll be pretty busy–"

"Not too busy to finish readin' your letters. I'm taking them with me. The ones I haven't read yet, anyway."

"...You read my letters?"

"Of course, I read them—some of them two or three times. I'm up to June 1993. So, when did you get to be a detective?"

"… few months ago."

"I'm so proud of you. But, you never said anything in your letters about wanting to be a Detective. From all I read, you liked bein' out there keepin' the streets safe. More than once, you said you didn't want a desk job or to be in a supervisor position."

"…things change."

"Do those changes have anything to do with all the missing weeks that didn't have a letter?"

"You noticed that, huh?"

Thirty or so letters he had removed before stuffing the shopping bag lay in the bottom of his dresser. He had burned the ones he'd written to Daisy in '80 and '81 before returning to Hazzard.

"I noticed."

"I guess there were some things I wanted to tell you in person. Didn't want you to read it in a letter."

"Maybe we can talk about that next time."

"Maybe…I'm so glad to hear you say there's gonna be a next time. I hope that won't be too long. I could call you. That's only if you don't mind."

"Of course you can call me, Enos. You shouldn't even have to ask. You're so sweet. How could I have done–"

"Now, Daisy, I thought we went over all that. I don't want what happened to ruin everything we've been to each other all these years. Please, Daisy. Let's don't go backwards. Please."

"Okay, Enos. You're right. But, I guess I better go now. I'm calling from a friend's phone. I needed to hear your voice. I'll call you soon and give you my number in North Carolina."

"Goodnight, Daisy. It sure was real good talkin' to you."

"Goodnight, Enos."

When he hung up, he noticed the flashing red light on the answering machine and picked up the message from Soonie. It reminded him that he had meant what he said to Daisy that day in Hazzard Swamp when he proposed. He couldn't wait another thirty-two years. The words wouldn't come out tonight, but they would have to talk about it at some point.

After leaving the concert, it was still early enough to swing by the Bloody Bucket as they had initially planned. He wanted Soonie to meet his friends. Although, he had not met any of Soonie's friends, assuming she would have a lot of them.

He knew about her Aunt and Uncle, who lived in San Francisco. The little he knew about her family in South Korea was that their relationship was 'strained,' so he hadn't pressed her on the subject. He did know that she had a four-year-old niece she had never met.

Then he started thinking about why she might not have offered to have him meet her friends. More than once, he'd wondered what in the name of all that's right in the world she was doing hanging around with a backwoods country boy like him. Maybe her friends would disapprove.

He was letting his thoughts run turkey tail. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe Thompson was right. He definitely needed to take a break.

Soonie had wanted to end the evening with a quiet dinner at her apartment, but Enos had been so eager for her to meet his friends, she couldn't resist.

Enos and Soonie arrived at the bar at about seven. Most of the usual group had already arrived and were seated at the large round table in the back. Making their way to the table, they passed a waitress, Summer, who asked if Enos wanted his regular and then did a double-take at the stunning woman on his arm.

"And for the lady?" she asked.

"I will have a Dos Equis with a lime, thank you."

"Sure thing, Sugar. Have a seat, and I'll bring it right over."

Arriving at the table, Enos introduced Inez, who she had already met, Camila (Cam) Morales and her husband Geraldo, Angela Kim, Rafael (Raffi) Espinosa and his wife Susan, and finally to Turk and his girlfriend, Shawnee. To his surprise, Gordon Thompson walked up with a mug of draft beer and placed it on the table in front of the empty chair next to Angela Kim.

Although most of the bar patrons wore cowboy chic, the Detectives were dressed in street casual. Enos noticed that Thompson had shed the Italian suit, tie and laundry pressed shirt he had been wearing that morning for slacks and a button-down shirt.

"And this is Detective Thompson. Thompson, this is Mun Kyung-soon."

Soonie addressed the table and said, "Please, call me Kay."

Inez noted, with some perturbation, that Enos had called Kay Soonie when he first saw her at the office that morning. He had a pet name for her. How cute.

Summer brought Soonie's beer and Enos's buttermilk, a tray of buffalo wings, ranch dip, nachos with chili and cheese sauce, fried green tomatoes, and another three pitchers of beer for the table. She left with a promise to Enos of a refill on the buttermilk whenever he was ready for it.

Thompson was feeling slightly outnumbered when Angela Kim asked, "Detective Thompson, would you like to dance?"

"Thanks," he said, and standing to take her hand let her lead him onto the dance floor.

Cam turned to Enos and pointed at the departing Thompson. "How the hell did you accomplish that?"

"He offered the olive branch. I just took it. Ya'll need to give him a chance to redeem himself."

Cam said, "I guess we can try…but only because you're the one asking."

After they had eaten some wings, and tonight's band started playing a cover of Alison Krauss's When You Say Nothing at All, Enos asked Soonie if she would like to dance. It appeared Thompson wanted to stay on the dance floor for another round. Enos wasn't sure if that's what Angie wanted.

While they danced, Soonie noticed that they were being watched by his friends.

At the table, Turk sipped on his beer and watched Inez watch Enos and Soonie. "Spit it out, Inez. Whatever it is. You know you want to."

"I wonder if that is going to stop being weird?" she said, indicating the dance floor.

"Thompson and Kim? Yeah, it's weird," Turk quipped.

Inez gave him a look that said, 'you know who I mean, jerk.'

"I think they look good together. It's about damn time he stopped pining over that chica back in Georgia," Cam said.

"You don't think he's moving too fast?" Inez asked.

"Man's over forty, not eighteen," Turk answered. "He already wasted thirty years of his life chasing a woman. How slow do you want him to move?"

Inez turned her attention back to her drink. "Rebounds never work. I know him, and it definitely won't work for him."

"You just think you know him. He's all grown up now, smarter, and a lot more careful, but I've known him for seventeen years. I knew him when we were both young and stupid and reckless. You keep an extra blouse in your trunk in case somebody vomits on you? I used to keep an extra pair of underwear in the trunk for when he was driving."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a little?" Raffi said, snickering.

"If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'."

"Seriously?" his girlfriend, Shawnee, said. "Hard to think of that sweet and gentle man as ever being reckless."

"Baby, you have no idea. For example, and this is just the tamest I can think of and I'm cleaning it up - he was trying to get information out of this dude about who was threatening his neighbor. So, 'sweet and gentle' there cuffed the SOB to the headrail, drove the patrol car, with me in it, ninety to nothing to the edge of a cliff on Mulholland, and only stopped it when the front wheels were damn near hanging over the edge. That's when I started packing the extra shorts. Had to see a police psychologist because of his wild driving."6

By the time he finished, as he had embellished the tale with some animated hand gestures, Shawnee was giggling. "Did he get the information?"

"Turkey sang like a bird. He didn't have an extra pair of tighty-whities either."

While Turk's girlfriend was still laughing, Inez was not amused.

"He's older than her," Inez said flatly.

At that, Shawnee excused herself, saying it was getting a little too deep for a Saturday night, and went to the little girls' room.

"Nine years. Give it a rest," said Turk. "Better yet, here's a thought. What if it's not rebound at all. They met at the fundraiser in March, right? That was more than a month before he went back on that fiasco visit to Hazzard. You're the one who said he was going for the hard sell with her on the community center thing. Maybe he was hitting on her."

"One, E does not 'hit' on women. Two, he had an engagement ring for Daisy that he had just picked up that day in his pocket. No, not him."

"The subconscious is a tricky thing," Camila's psychologist husband said.

"I thought you were a better friend than that," Inez, ignoring Geraldo's remark, snapped at Turk.

"Whoa. We shared nearly a year of our reckless youth in the same patrol car. We hang out here or at the gym or the firing range and watch the Lakers game on the couch with beer and buttermilk. We're pals, not sorority sisters. He stays out of my love life, and I stay out of his. It's why we're still friends…My point is, what if he fell for Kay the first time he met her."

"He went back to Georgia and proposed."

"Maybe, just maybe...he had to give it one more try before he gave up. Daisy says yes, he gets what he's wanted for three decades. She says no..." He looked at Enos and Soonie on the dance floor and lifted his beer mug to them.

Enos, oblivious to what was transpiring at the table, acknowledged Turk's gesture with a thumbs up. Then, without warning, he tightened his grip on Soonie's waist and right hand at the same time and moved her effortlessly out of the way of an oncoming male patron. Thompson and Angela, who had ended up in their immediate vicinity, also had to move out of the way.

Having missed both couples, the man barreled up to the bar and started being obnoxious. Over the next thirty to forty seconds, he harassed the barmaid to the point Soonie asked, "Should you be arresting him or something?"

Enos put his hand up to Thompson and shook his head to indicate he should take no action. "That's just Virgil. His girlfriend probably threw him out again, and he's drownin' his sorrows in whiskey. If he gets much worse, Bonnie Sue'll most likely be able to take care of it. She's from Texas and has three big brothers."

"Oh, I see," said Soonie, as if that explained everything.

Thompson knitted his eyebrows.

The drunk whirled around and, seeing Enos, threw himself at him. With an arm draped over Enos's shoulder, Virgil ran his eyes lasciviously up and down Soonie's body.

"She's real pretty, Enos. Where'd ya' get her?"

"Virgil!" Enos warned. "I think maybe you need to calm down before Bonnie Sue has enough of this disorderly conduct and decides to throw you outta here again."

"I ain't never been thrown outta nowhere by no girl. Lady, you sure got pretty eyes…."

Before Virgil could finish, he was face down on the nearest table with Bonnie Sue Thorndike pinning his arm behind his back.

"Don't hurt him, Bonnie Sue," Enos said. "He's not responsible. Last time he had to have three stitches."

"Alright," Bonnie Sue said, still pinning the struggling Virgil down to the table. "But only for you."

She led Virgil out of the bar and threw him into the street, yelling after him, "Go make up with Connie before I have to hurt you."

Enos had held tight on Soonie's waist through the whole incident. When the music started again, they were dancing to Tim McGraw's It's Your Love. By the time the song was a third of the way through, her head, with its long, soft strands of hair caught up in his hand, was nestled into the crook of his shoulder. He captured her right hand and pressed it against his chest.

Enos whispered into her ear, "Virgil was right about one thing. You do have pretty eyes."

When the dance ended, and Enos and Soonie made their way back to the table, he had not let go of her hand.

Turk saw Inez eyeing them again. He got up to let the returning Shawnee through to her chair, then leaned over to Inez and said, "Daisy was his addiction. Are you sure he isn't yours?"

She glared darts through Turk. But before she could react or respond, Enos and Soonie had arrived.

"Well, ya'll look dead serious," Enos said.

Turk, now back in his seat, peered furtively into his beer mug, and before taking a swig said, "We were just talking about narcotics."

"Hey, I've been meanin' to ask how's it goin' over there?" Enos said. "You need to get into somethin' sane that doesn't put a target on your back?"

"Nah, I fit in there. You know me. Turkey knows turkeys. Besides, I won't be on the streets come Monday morning."

"What?"

"Captain called me into his office Friday afternoon and gave me a task force."

"Congratulations, Buddy-roe! I worry about you out there." He slapped Turk on the back without letting go of Soonie's hand. "I thought you'd never give up the streets."

Turk looked directly at Inez and said, "Everything changes."

Sunday, August 31, 1997 – Los Angeles– 1:00 am

Enos and Soonie closed the bar down well after midnight. That was early for a Saturday night, but they were the last patrons left that didn't have to be poured into a cab, and Bonnie Sue was ready to go home.

If she spoke to him during the drive to her apartment, he didn't hear it. In his thoughts, he still held her, still feeling her body against his and her heartbeat against his chest. He had delayed the inevitable as long as he could – enjoyed the moment as long as he dared. What he had been doing was wrong. He knew it even while he was letting it happen.

Instead of stopping at the front of the building, as he had done the first time, he parked the truck in the guest lot, turned off the motor, and unclipped his seat belt. Soonie unclipped hers and started to reach for the door handle when he caught her hand in his.

"I have to tell you something." Staring into the dashboard, he nervously massaged the back of her hand with his thumb. He might have to let it go soon. Too soon.

Soonie could feel the heat of his touch. The dread in his words caused her to imagine all sorts of things he could be about to say - none of them something she thought she wanted to hear.

With serious deliberation, he began to make his confession as if he was walking the last mile. He told her everything about Daisy: their childhood; how much he had wanted to marry her for so many years; the weddings that never happened.

She moved closer on the bench seat of the truck and pulled their clasped hands into her lap. Even in a synopsis, it was not a short story. Soonie listened quietly to him go on and on about another woman. When he got to the part about how it had all ended in April, she squeezed his hand a little tighter and laid her head on his shoulder.

As always, in his scenario, he was the one at fault, never Daisy –because he genuinely believed that he had brought it on himself, and Kate had never challenged him on that point so he knew it was true.

Soonie welcomed the silence that had settled into the cab of the truck. She pulled her legs up on the seat and scooted closer yet. Then, cuddling his arm, buried her face in it. She was still holding tightly to his hand in her lap. He didn't want to let go.

Turning just enough to reach out with his other hand, he pulled her to face him. He ran his thumb over the corner of her lips down to the soft curves of her chin, studying her face from her eyes down toward the bridge of her nose. He leaned in so that his forehead was touching hers and whispered, "All these years, I never thought there could be anyone but her…"

To keep him from confessing the one thing she was afraid to ask and did not want to hear, she moved her head ever so slightly upward to catch his lips with hers. 'She is there, and I am here, and she will have to fight to get you back.'

The taste of her reminded him of honeysuckle nectar and fresh morning dew. He let go of her hand only so he could pull her closer.

Sunday, August 31, 1997 – Los Angeles

Still tasting Soonie's lips, Enos showered and dressed early for church. The photo of Daisy on the dresser no longer dominated the room. He could look at it without pangs of regret for what might have been. He knew, now, that it was never supposed to be.

He'd had it wrong all these years.

What he had felt about Daisy was a conviction, never a certainty. He was sure about Soonie. What's more, he knew, with certainty, she felt the same.

He would be picking Soonie up by ten, so they could make the eleven o'clock service. He slipped the brand new Nokia cellular phone the department had just issued into his inside jacket pocket, sat down at the desk, took out a package of writing paper from the desk drawer, and began a letter to Daisy.

It began,

'My Sweet Daisy, I will always love you.'

Deacon's church was non-denominational. Had it been otherwise, he would not have been interested in attending. His Aunt Judy had thumped the Bible at him enough when he was younger, and he didn't believe you needed the fear of hell to do the right thing. He had seen good church-going' folk do bad things during the week and go to church on Sunday for absolution. He didn't want any part of that kind of religion. But Deacon's church was different. Kindness and brotherly love were its mantras, and he saw that in practice as well as in preaching.

This Sunday, there was a picnic, with barbeque, fire-roasted corn, zucchini salad, cucumber salad, and Enos's favorite, black-eyed-pea salad. The event was one of the ways that the church raised money among not only the parishioners but in the nearby community.

Eddie Deacon approached Enos and Soonie while enjoying their meal and asked, "I have a project I need to talk to you about. You think I could tear you away from this lovely lady for a few minutes?"

"Soonie, you mind? Prob'ly won't take long, then we can go for that ride we talked about."

Earlier in the week, he had called the owner and found that the thirteen-acre plot northeast of Burbank was still up for sale. Better yet, the price had dropped, and he would be able to lease the land and the cabin with an option to buy. Apparently, not many people could see the potential he did.

"Of course not. We have all day," she said, "And I am enjoying this barbeque."

While Enos sipped on his iced tea and talked to Eddie Deacon on the church's back steps, Octavia Deacon slipped into the chair next to Soonie.

"Glad you like it," Octavia beamed. "Best in the west. But Enos keeps sayin' that his Uncle Jesse's barbeque sauce is pretty righteous – some sort of secret recipe.4 Told him I was gonna' have to taste it to believe it."

Soonie smiled. "I have never tasted Uncle Jesse's sauce," although she hoped to someday, "but this is very good."

"Enos tells us you've been goin' out for a while?" Octavia Deacon, who had a gruff, no-nonsense exterior and a heart of gold, was never shy about getting straight to her point.

"A few months."

"You know, I've known that man for more than four years, and I don't believe I've ever known him to bring a date to church."

"I hope to be the only one."

"Yeah…that's what I thought," Octavia said, studying Soonie. She had observed them both off and on for the last few hours.

Having wrapped up their impromptu project meeting, Enos and Eddie Deacon strode back to the table. Holding out his hand for her to take, Enos asked Soonie, "Are you ready to take that ride?"

As Enos and Soonie walked away, Eddie, having noticed the pensive look on his wife's face, asked, "You've got something on your mind. Out with it, woman."

Watching the truck drive away, she said, "You know I think the world of Enos."

"We all do. He's been a good friend to us and the church." Eddie said.

"And if anybody hurt him, I'd have their eyeballs in my next martini?"4

"I believe you would, Mrs. Deacon. But, seriously, what is it with you women? He's not a porcelain doll."

"You're not understandin' me. I'm not worried about him."

Eddie looked confused.

"That man feels things real deep, and there's a burnin' passion percolatin' behind that sappy grin – just waitin' to boil over. He's been lonely far too long."

"Ah, I see. You think the pretty Ms. Mun's the one playing with fire."

"No, Mr. Deacon. I'm hopin' she's not playin' with a loaded gun."

The Burbank property was located on the side of a hill. The side facing away from the city offered a view of grazing land and the Verdugo Mountains. And the Verdugo fault line. There was no place in the San Fernando Valley that was not prone to fires or earthquakes, so it didn't matter where the land was situated. One was just as likely to be impacted by an earthquake in downtown L.A. as anywhere else.

The most significant threat potential was from wildfire. There would always be that risk. It was something L.A. County residents lived and dealt with year-in and year-out.

Before the truck had made it to Glendale on I-5, Enos received a call on his cell, alerting him to come into the office.

The future would have to wait for another day.

References:

(4) In DOH:Hazzard in Hollywood, Cooter is trying to replicate Uncle Jesse's barbeque sauce recipe and is missing a key ingredient he called "PS" (which is found, eventually to be Pickled Scuppernongs - Enos's favorite snack.) Bo and Luke tell Deacon about it because when they go to her shop, she is smoking pork in her smoker made from a refrigerator (she smokes a bunch of them for the church)

(6) The incident involving Enos handcuffing the guy to the headrail, and threatening to send them over the cliff if he didn't cough up the information is what I remember of S1 E1 of Enos titled "Enos". And Turk had to see a psychiatrist because of Enos's wild driving in S1 E14 titled "Cops at Sea" Note: Episodes of Enos (the series spin-off to DOH are not available on DVD and only a few clips of the show can be found on the Internet.