Punishment and Profits

Up ahead of Bogo, Judge Hilo sat on the throne inside of Savanna Central's House of Law. The plaster walls of the courtroom were painted brown and to Bogo watching from the back, considered it to be cheap construction, but there were many courtrooms inside the hall and the city felt no need to spend lavishly on courtrooms. It was early afternoon and the verdict for Thomas Pohc, a pig accused of hacking into the ZPD database and stealing records of current and past officers needed to come through. He put down the police report he scrutinized for the last ten minutes. The trial was scheduled to begin a week earlier, but unforeseen events not related to the judge's assault had caused a delay in proceedings.

The trial of Pohc was in its fourth day. With a substantial amount of evidence against Thomas, the only thing left to do was hand down the sentence. Justice would be served.

"Thomas Pohc, for the data breach of a State-owned law enforcement entity, a felony offense, I find you guilty and sentence you to eighteen years in prison. You will serve your time in Sahara Correctional Facility. This court is adjourned." Judge Hilo slammed his gavel with satisfaction. Two cheetah guards approached Thomas. He held his head low and remained silent as he was escorted out in cuffs. The judge noticed Chief Bogo in the far back of the courtroom. Bogo nodded approvingly to the sentence as Hilo stood up and collected his papers. His phone buzzed in his pocket. The chief retrieved the phone and took a quick glance: two messages, J. Savage. He peeked at the text. Jack wanted background checks on Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps. He raised a curious eyebrow and informed Jack that he would get to it by tonight. The second message was a heads up on stolen cargo from the Rainforest District.

"Bring me evidence or a witness of some kind and we'll open a case," Bogo replied. The Journalists still present snapped last second pictures of Thomas as he was escorted out of the room in cuffs.

Just south of the ZPD headquarters, after the verdict, Chief Bogo made his way to the Cat Heart Auditorium for a press conference. It was an open roof auditorium. A lion's mane sculpted out of marble rested on a pedestal at the far back center of the stage. It was also the place used for graduation ceremonies of new police recruits. The sculpture was fashioned after the Mayor's mane. Wooden chairs set in crescent-shaped rows were placed in front of the stage.

Chief Bogo calmly stared at the curious mob of reporters, organizing in his head the list of mammals he would call on for questions. They stood clustered together in a diverse mass of fur and rough skin, just along the right aisle next to the chairs. Pachyderms, canines, felines and a variety of other species stood eagerly for information. They held cameras, mics, notepads, and phones up and ready for any sound or movement to record. Well, at least the ones sitting were holding onto notepads. A giraffe caught Bogo's attention first.

"Yes, Yvonna, how about you?" The giraffe smiled and scratched at her neck with her free hand.

"Thank you, Chief. Was any personal information stolen that could be used to target family members of officers?" As she spoke, cameras were already flashing on Bogo. They clicked and whined like bugs in a forest. He blinked occasionally from the brightness.

"The information leaked was all public information that could be found online through common government databases. There is no known credible threat to any officers at this time. But we are urging families to exercise caution and attentiveness to sudden communications from unknown individuals reaching out to officers and their families." The Chief took a small step back and sighed. The first question was a loaded one. Being the experienced officer he was, Bogo maintained composure and with a proud chest pointed to a deer for the next question.

"What is being done to protect us from possible cyber attacks?"

"The funding events held by our Mayor is allowing us to update our tech databases and security to ensure that attacks such as this past hack do not occur again. Given the sensitivity of the software and hardware we are acquiring, I am not allowed to comment on what products we will be using."

He listened attentively to the reporters as they murmured and worked to sift through the hundreds of questions cycling through their minds. He turned his head quickly to his right and pointed to an impatient female goat standing in the corner of the crowd.

"What purpose was this information stolen for and who would buy it?" she asked. Chief Bogo nodded a moment. He wanted to be sure that the answer he gave wouldn't frighten them or the public at large listening to this conference.

"Investigators suspect that this information was stolen to sell identities on an underground cyber market. There are some details that remain hazy and we are in the middle of sorting out this information."

"Are police officers in any danger because of the hack?"

"There is as of now, no credible threat to officers that we know of." The Chief fielded questions for several more minutes. He answered questions about the well-being of Judge Hilo and about future plans for increasing street patrols. He pushed back against rumors about police corruption and when he felt the pressure of time to act on other duties said, "That will be all. There is still much I have to attend to today. Thank you."

The Chief walked off and avoided the insatiable eyes of dissatisfied reporters. They were never happy. He politely waved and smiled as he walked past them while keeping his attention forward.

Mr. Big cozied up in his favorite wooden rocking chair. He cushioned the seat and backrest with cheap plush materials. The same went for his modest-sized bed. Big didn't care for opulence for the sake of showing off. No, he valued the power of his reputation more than the power his money brought him.

"Daaaddy." Frieda called in a sing-song voice. She must have just arrived from her classes in hair styling. He puffed on South Desert, a foreign cigar brand discovered in one of the crates in the Rainforest District. The tendrils of smoke curled upward and bounced into the hallway. "Hey, that smells spicy," said Frieda, wrinkling her nose. Big only smiled. "I am going to put in the calls to your contacts tonight and remind them of the meeting at your club next week."

Occasionally, while Big was away from home attending to personal business, he allowed Frieda to help him manage his many other duties. She enjoyed being a part of his work. Often, he found himself victim to her begging and pleading just to let her be an active participant. He was grateful for her enthusiasm but was not willing to share all of his burdens with her.

"How were classes?" he asked.

"Oh, same old stuff. I'm learning about how different chemicals affect hair." Big gently shook the ashes from his cigar into an ashtray that sat on his lap.

"Do you find the classes simple?" Frieda thought about it for a moment, crossing her arms and lowering her head. The purse bounced off her stomach,

"Hmm...yes and no. Depends on how bored I get." Big chuckled,

"We should quickly make up for our expenses this past month. Finnick and Nick are doing a good job. And so are the fences in the Sahara and the Rainforest. Thomas being arrested does not concern me too much. He did his job and in time he will be...extricated and rewarded for the information we received." The warmth of his dream goal bubbled up in his gut once more. His eyes stared through the ornaments and furniture of his room and out to the horizon of his fantasy of a Zootopia under his control. Frieda threw her arms around him. She ran her fingers through his thinning hair. He smiled and slightly shook his head. The scratching was nice.

"Daddy. I just heard the crying when I came inside, I think that stupid aardvark downstairs finally finished cleaning out the icebox for you," she squeaked.

"Oh yes, that one." The aardvark was forced to undergo the gruesome task of scraping out the frozen corpses in the "icebox": an underground vault from where a jet stream of air gets blown by the climate machines placed inside Zootopia's border wall that separates the Sahara from the Tundra District. Big's home was just over one of the streams of these powerful jets. A vault was put in place to lock and redirect airflow underground. Still, Big's home was the coldest house in Zootopia. He sat up straight in his rocking chair, only causing it to rock back and forth more. The ashtray wobbled precariously in his lap but remained in place.

"Yes, maybe next time he will show a little more respect for the Family." Big took a final puff of his cigar then smothered out the flame by grinding the cigar into the ashtray. "My grandma taught me the value of respect and ambition. When I was young, sweetpea, if I had a fight and told my grandma, she would beat me if I failed to draw blood from my opponent." Frieda listened with curiosity.

"I haven't heard this one before."

"I don't tell it often. But I think it's time you know. She always said to me, 'Leave them with marks to remember you by.' Hah." Big scratched at the hand that held his cigar. The ashes made his fingers itch.

"I wish I could have met her," said Frieda. "She sounds like she was a strong lady."

"My grandma was the best," his voice rumbled in a low pleasant growl. "I thank her for every beating I endured. I thank her for my success. Never be satisfied, Frieda. Never let the smallest slight go by. We are shrews. Devour everything in your path, darling."

"Understood." She gave him a wicked smile and stood proud, being the recipient of his sage advice.

"I'll have Manchas escort that fool out of my home." Big faced his daughter and narrowed his gaze thoughtfully as she suddenly looked lost in thought. "Are you alright?" She let her eyes wander around the room then said,

"Yes. I just have some tests coming up and was wondering if you could keep business out of the house for a little while."

"Oh," Big raised his brows in surprise. "Sure! I'm happy for the help you have provided, but if my work will be a distraction, there are some places I can go." Frieda sighed in relief.

"Thanks, daddy."

"Of course, sweetheart."

"I'll go tell Manchas to come up." She turned to exit the room.

"You're doing a good job in school. Daddy's proud of you," said Big. Frieda turned back to the room and said,

"Oh, Bellwether wants to demonstrate to you the effects of" – she wiggled her skinny fingers in the air – "the 'Savage Serum!' Give her a call."

"I hope it's worth the trip," Big mumbled. Frieda ran back down to the main floor,

"Maaanchas..."