The Potrero Finch

It was early on in the partnership. Mike had taken a very young Steve Keller under his wing, showing him the world of homicide. With little street experience, the biggest challenge for the new detective was winning the trust of those he interviewed in order to gain more information. Mike, of course, was a pro at this skill. More than a quarter century of understanding motivation, fear and all of the human emotions not found in text books made it look like he did his job with ease. To Steve's credit, he recognized that it wasn't so easy and peppered his older partner with questions after many of the interviews and interrogations.

Steve was ever grateful that the older detective understood that he only wanted to do better in his job and happily answered his many questions. Often they would go out to dinner or spend a late evening talking about the job and Mike's experiences. The older man secretly relished these times and their work relationship quickly evolved into a trusting friendship.

It was not long after that when Mike began inviting Steve home to watch Sunday afternoon sports and enjoy a mid-afternoon dinner. With Jeannie home for the summer from her studies at Arizona State, the young woman took extra measure to prepare a delicious meal for her father and his new partner. Another benefit of my new partner, Mike thought humorously.

Over time, Steve watched his partner and his daughter interact with almost as much interest as he watched the games. They had a loving and healthy bond. While Jeannie was decidedly smaller than her tall, broad shouldered father, she held her own in conversations and didn't seem intimidated by his powerful force. She expressed her thoughts and opinions, often liberal and ideological, unabashedly to both men. While Steve held similar opinions, only mitigated by what little more real world experience he had, he marveled at her ability to articulate her ideas to her more traditional father. She never backed down.

She also did something that completely blew Steve away: she called her father 'Mike'.

Not just once, but nearly every time she addressed her father formally, she referred to him as 'Mike'. The first time she did this, Steve quickly darted his eyes over to his partner. The older man gave no reaction except for the broad smile that seemingly reached across his face when Jeannie was in his presence. Maybe he had heard her wrong, Steve thought to himself. But then when Jeannie uttered Mike's name again, he knew that he had not misheard.

Through his Sunday visits, they had established a bit of a routine. The Wide World of Sports started at 1pm. About halfway through, Jeannie would excuse herself to the kitchen to complete the prep work for the meal. Normally she made something with a bake time that equaled the remainder of the show and was able to return to her company.

After eating, Steve would help clear the dishes from the table and then start scrubbing the pots and pans while Jeannie put away leftovers. Feeling like there were enough hands in the clean-up process, Mike would retire to the sofa to look for an old movie to watch.

There was never an awkward moment between the younger pair, especially when they did their kitchen clean-up. In some ways, Steve enjoyed their time together as much as the meal or the sports program. They had a never ending array of topics to discuss or sometimes, they just worked in companionable silence.

One day, however, Steve felt the need to ask Jeannie something that was on his mind from they day they had met. He was also comfortable enough to do this without feeling like he would offend his new friend. "Jeannie, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, shoot!" Jeannie replied with a grin as she wrapped the remains of a baked chicken and placed the platter in the refrigerator.

"Not something you want to say to a cop, young lady," he teased and was happy to hear her giggle in reply. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way. I'm just curious about you calling your father by his first name."

"Oh, you mean, why do I do it?"

"No, you know, I get why you do it. A lot of younger people call their parents by their first names these days. What surprises me is that your dad seems so easy going about it."

Jeannie grinned. "Despite being steeped in tradition, you realize that Iron Mike can be a softy, right?"

"Around you, definitely. You've got him wrapped around your little finger!" Steve squinted at his companion.

"I'm not the only one, mister. I can see that's happening with you. Mike's been good friends with all of his partners, but you are different. You're the first one that is so much younger and I get the sense he's developed some paternal feelings." Jeannie punctuated with a poke.

"Hey, I am older than you…" Steve teased.

"But just a few years – not by decades like the others. We're the same generation."

"And we do outnumber him when we get together with our progressive ideas. And that brings me back to my original question," he wondered as he scrubbed a pot. "You're saying that you call him 'Mike' because he's a softy then?"

"No, actually it's a little deeper than that," Jeannie answered mysteriously. The look in her eyes suddenly reflected to a time long passed.

"Do tell," Steve noticed her distant gaze and continued to prod.

"Did you ever see 'To Kill a Mockingbird'?" she asked of the black and white film that was out less than ten years before.

"I read the book," Steve responded with an unintentional degree of superiority. "And yes, I did see the movie, too."

"I read the book," Jeannie countered with a spark, "but I also remember Mom and Dad taking me to see the movie." Steve nodded solemnly as he realized he inadvertently triggered a memory of her deceased mother. Almost reading his mind, she replied, "It was right before Mom got sick."

"Sorry," he whispered.

"That's not the point," she said as she gave Steve a nudge. "Do you remember what name Scout and Jem called their father?"

"Sure, Atticus. It was his first name."

"And do you remember how odd that seemed? The story was set in the 1930's in the very conservative South. All these things were going on around them and yet there was Atticus, the town attorney. He could have been a shyster, but he wasn't. He was the moral center of the community and strived for everyone to be treated equally and fairly." Jeannie grabbed a towel to dry the pans Steve had washed, but instead leaned against the counter.

"And no matter whom he met or what the situation, his integrity didn't shift." Steve quickly saw the parallel as he had watched Jeannie's father interact fairly and respectfully with people from all walks of life, regardless of social background, race or level of wealth. It was part of the reason he was able to quickly develop trust when questioning witnesses or working through an investigation.

"And do you remember near the end of the movie, when Scout jumped into her father's arms? He held her so closely and made her feel so secure. Through all of those crazy times of change and all the bad things that happened with the trial and evil Mr. Ewell, there he was protecting her," Jeannie said as she looked pensively.

"Well, I do recall her wearing a suit made of ham at the end," Steve teased. "That probably helped protect her, too. Now that I think about it, I can see you in a ham suit…" His mind did quickly agree to the idea that Jeannie held many personality traits similar to Scout. She must have been a handful growing up, he smiled as he thought to himself.

"Smart aleck." Jeannie glared and then chose to ignore her father's partner. "But that's what Daddy did. He made me feel protected, especially after mom got sick. I couldn't very well call him 'Atticus'", she added humorously, "so I started calling him 'Mike'. The evenings when we'd be alone – when mom was in the hospital and very ill – I'd climb up in his lap and he'd hold me tight. I knew he wasn't going to stop the inevitable, but he made me feel so much better."

"Does he know this? I mean, does he really know why you call him 'Mike'?" Steve was genuinely touched by the story and felt happier by the moment that he was involved with such a caring and moral family.

"Of course he does," Jeannie responded with a smile. "You don't think he'd tolerate my insolence any other way?"

"No," Steve chuckled, suddenly relieved that his question was not so much out of line. "He's the Atticus Finch of the Potrero. Say, what does that make me? Am I Dil – the little friend who comes over during the summer to hang out with Scout?"

"No, I think you're quickly becoming Jem, the older brother who stands loyal to Atticus. Remember how he led Dil and Scout to the jail and tried to protect Atticus when the lynch mob came? Or when he went with Atticus to go to the Robinson house after Tom died?"

"Great…" Steve stood with his hands dripping from scrubbing pots in the sink. He didn't seem happy with the analogy.

"Not that you're a child…" Jeannie began, anticipating his concern.

"It's not that. Do you remember the end of the movie?" Steve pondered.

"Sure, I guess," Jeannie replied with a puzzled look.

"Poor Jem was in bed unconscious after a pretty bad beating. Remember that he had his arm all wrapped up and an ugly black eye. The last scene was Atticus sitting by his bed. Is that my future?"

Jeannie thought for a moment. "Nah, that won't happen. You'll be fine…"