Chapter 2 – B.A. Gets Mad

B.A. heads for the police station that made the call three hours ago. He remembers the detective saying his name was Detective Johnson, but after he said "Mr. Smith died this morning," the rest is a blur. He still can't get his mind around the fact that Hannibal is gone. It has been a few months since he has seen the Colonel, but they always get together for fight nights. B.A.'s small gym, where he trains young boxers, is losing clientele due to the MMA scene, but B.A. still has some who come for boxing techniques. They don't want to be boxers though. They want to do it all, Muay Thai, Jui Jitsu, grappling, all those things that B.A. isn't as skilled in, but he and the Colonel still like watching a good boxing match. In fact Hannibal owned a percentage of a fighter that B.A. had helped get started, so he would sometimes come by and watch the guys train. He and B.A. had a good time going over the new talent and their prospects of becoming good boxers.

He parks his blue Chevy Camaro in the lot, and walks into the police station. The station is busy. B.A. stands by the counter after several minutes with no one looking his way. That in itself is unusual, because B.A. stands out in a crowd. Mohawk, beard, red tank top with shortened overalls, red high socks and combat boots. He has lost some of his bulk, but he is still imposing, some might say scary. What's goin' on here, can't they see me, he thinks. Then he speaks, or more like bellows, "Hey, can't nobody see me here?"

A petite officer steps forward tentatively and says, "Yes sir. Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I need some information and I need it now! Where is Detective Johnson? I need ta see him."

"Detective Johnson is very busy right now because of a shooting at the bank this morning. Can you make an appointment?"

"NO! I need ta see him NOW!"

"Well sir, I don't think he can see you now. I'm really sorry." Her voice is getting quieter as she speaks, but she doesn't back down.

Just then, Detective Johnson walks out to the counter, this after hearing one side of the conversation from his office.

"Let me take over, Ashley. Can I help you sir?"

"If you're Johnson, you can. I'm B.A. Baracus and I came ta find out what happened ta John Smith this mornin'. You gonna talk ta me sucker, or do I need ta go over your head ta somebody else."

"No, Mr. Baracus, I would be happy to speak with you. Come on back to my office."

B.A. follows close on his heels, ignoring all the attention he is getting now, compared to earlier when he came in.

"Would you sit down? Let me get my report. I just finished it a few minutes ago."

B.A. sits down uncomfortably in the chair across from Johnson. He is glaring at the man, who opens up his laptop to bring up the report. "Would you like me to read the report, or make you a copy to take with you?"

"Well, I wanna hear what happened, but my friends will probably like a copy, since they aren't here right now."

"Very well, I will read what I have here."

He scans past the beginning parts of the report that have to do with the case number and police involved. Mr. Baracus doesn't need this information. He gets to the meat of the report and starts to read.

"At eight ten this morning, an assailant walked into the Bank of America on Wilshire Blvd. He was observed on camera to have gotten in line to see the teller. He placed himself behind a young woman, identified as Sara Wilson age 25, of Beverly Hills. At eight eleven, he pulled out, what was later to be determined, a nine millimeter, grabbed Miss Wilson, and placed the gun in her back. He yelled for everyone to stay down, handed a bag to the teller, Miss Valarie Elliott, and told her to give him all the money. Miss Elliott, 45, has worked at the bank for twenty years, but this is the first time she has been robbed. She was fumbling with the bag. It was then observed by the video cameras in the bank, that Mr. John Smith, age 82, said something to the assailant, who then turned and looked squarely at Mr. Smith. The robber turned back around and made a menacing gesture toward Miss Elliott. Next, Miss Wilson screamed and tried to get away. Mr. Smith tried to rush the gunman, and the gunman fired at point blank range. The assailant fled the scene through the front doors and was observed going west on Wilshire. He has not been apprehended at this time. John Smith was pronounced dead at the scene. Miss Elliott and Miss Wilson have given their statements. They are recorded on the affidavit enclosed. Miss Wilson did state that Mr. Smith was a true hero, for what he had done. Miss Elliott stated he was a regular in the bank and a very nice man. She said he was in movies and was some kind of officer in the military."

When Det. Johnson looks up from his report, he sees a man who is clearly grieving, but who is not going to give into it.

"Do you have any questions for me, Mr. Baracus?"

"Only one. Have you caught the guy yet?"

"No, we are still looking. We are checking other cameras in the area, and asking for anyone who may know him, or seen anything to come forward. This guy's not too smart. He looked right at the camera at one point, so we have a good picture of him."

"Can I see the tape? I want ta see for myself what happened. You know it's gonna run on T.V. in part, but I wanna see it all. And my friends may want ta, also. So go get the tape and I can go."

"Uh, Mr. Baracus, you aren't going to try to take matters into your own hands are you? Because if you are, the answer is NO! Well?"

"No, we just wanna see what happened. He was our leader in Nam, and we just need ta see it, okay?"

"I'll see what I can do, but in the meantime, there will be an autopsy and then you can make arrangements with the morgue on the disposition of the body."

"Hey fool, don't talk about the Colonel like that. He ain't just a body, and I don't like hear'n you talk like that about him. Got it!"

"I'm sorry. You are right. Mr. Smith will be released to you when they are finished. Please accept my heartfelt apologies and condolences for you and your friends' loss."

"Yeah. Okay. I'll be back later ta get that tape. I definitely wanna see it."

"Alright, I have your number. I'll get back to you later today."

"Thanks."

Det. Johnson is trying to put things together. The name "Hannibal Smith" keeps running through his head, but he can't place it. Where has he heard that name before? It is right there, but it just won't come to him. "Oh, well, I will figure it out sooner or later." Just then his phone rings and he moves on to the task at hand.

Dejectedly, with head bowed, B.A. walks out of the police station and gets into his car. He had left the windows up and the inside is extremely hot. He quickly starts the car and turns on the air conditioning. He can't bring himself to put the car in gear. He just sits there feeling the air cooling him off. What is he supposed to do now? He needs someone to push him in a direction, so he knows what to do, but that had always been Hannibal's job.

Hannibal had taken B.A. under his wing when he was just a raw kid with an attitude, who had arrived in Viet Nam, without the faintest idea of what to do with his anger. The colonel had molded him, as much as anyone could, to be a good soldier. When he had a job to do, he knew what it was. Hannibal always depended on him for mechanical problems, building weapons out of pipes and washing machines, and anything else that he needed for his "plan", and B.A. had always come through. He feels like he has let Hannibal down, even though there is nothing that he could have done. He still feels the blame is on him somehow, for not protecting his leader and friend. He hits the steering wheel with both hands. His frustration is evident, but what can he do? He finally puts the car in gear and heads home to await Face's call.