Chapter 5 - The Competition

Lucy

Month 5 of Probationary…

"Alright, let's go, settle down," Grey said as everyone took their seats in the briefing room. "I recognize that midnight shift decided to take a snooze last night, so we are going to be spending the first half of our day cleaning up their mess," he announced.

The P2 and P3 officers in the room groaned, where John, Jackson, and I were happy about the idea of having more action.

"Part of me wonders if midnight shift did that on purpose because I know what today is." Grey started pacing back and forth his eyes trained on our T.O.s behind us. I turned to look at Tim, whose expression gave nothing away. "Does anyone have an idea what I am talking about?"

Our T.O.s arms were across their chest, their expressions displaying that they had no idea what Grey could be talking about.

"Competition day?" Jackson offered.

John and I turned to Jackson whose look turned sheepish.

"Gold star for Officer Jackson," Grey praised.

"What's competition day?" I asked in a whisper towards Jackson.

"That's a good question, Officer Chen," Grey said, my question not spoken so secretly. "Officer Bradford, why don't you enlighten your rookie."

Tim sat up, interlocking his hands in front of him. "Not that anyone in this department would engage in such behaviors, but it has been said that competition day is designed for rookies to make as many arrests as possible while their skills are being assessed," he answered.

"And?"

"And the rookie with the most quality arrests would win," Time added.

Grey stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Which you can see why I don't want to see or hear about this competition at all today. As police officers it is not our goal to just arrest people but be in the community and bridge the gap between us versus them. Do I make myself clear?"

A resounding 'yes' sounded in the room. Grey went over all of the items that needed to be completed that did not happen during the midnight shift, before he finished the debriefing.

As the room cleared out, it was only John, Jackson, Harper, Tim, and Lopez and me.

"Ok, so what's first?" John asked.

"We go over the rules of the competition," Lopez answered.

"But…Grey just said—"

"That he doesn't want to hear about it. So, like always, we keep it on the down low," Tim said matter-of-factly.

"Right, of course," John said.

"Like Grey said, it's quality not just quantity," Tim explained.

"Well, and quantity," Lopez added.

Jackson lifted his finger. "I'm confused."

"Your first focus is the quality of the arrest. You get one point for all misdemeanors for everything that you do right that you don't need your T.O. to step in assist or fix your mistake. And two points for felony cases. Of course, the more you do, the greater the chances you win," Harper explained.

"And, if you catch what we call a golden goose: murder, drug or weapons bust, anything like that…it goes up to five points," added Lopez.

"And what does the winner get?" I asked.

Tim smiled. "I like it, Boot. Already thinking like a winner."

Lopez smiled. "The winning team, gets to poach any calls for entire shift with no questions asked."

"I am almost afraid to ask, but what about the losing teams?" John asked.

"One team is chosen to pay for the entire bar tab of the winning team, while the other team is stuck processing all of the paperwork," Harper answered.

I turned to John and Jackson and smiled. "I think Jackson is going to be paying for our bar tab and John gets that pen going," I declared, clapping him on the shoulder.

Tim raised his hand high towards me for a high-five. "That's my Boot!"

After the first few hours on our shift, we stopped for lunch with the rest.

"Tim and I are killing this competition," I boasted, as I shoved a fry in my mouth. "We are currently sitting at fourteen points. It would have been fifteen had I not made that ridiculous mistake by not impounding the criminal's car."

I was still mad about that. During our routine patrol, I had noticed a man who was claiming to be power worker videotaping females in their home without their knowledge. I secured witness statements and all personal belongings, but I missed having his car impounded where he had a whole lot more evidence to his disgusting behaviors. Thankfully—and I always hated to admit it—Tim caught my mistake and ordered it to be taken as evidence before one of his pervert friends came and got it.

"Lopez and I are catching up. We have ten points," Jackson said.

"You know, Harper and I really aren't interested in behaving in this kind of competition," John said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

I chuckled. "You don't have any points, do you?" I guessed.

"It's not that, it's just—" he stopped talking when Jackson and I looked at him like we knew all too well. He dropped his sandwich back on the table. "Fine, we have two. I swear we are getting the calls that turn out to be nothing. We only have two points."

"Get that pen ready," I teased.

He grabbed his sandwich and bag of chips. "You wait, I work better under pressure. I will come out on top."

John got up from the table, chips falling from his bag as he hollered to Harper to want to get back on the road.

"You're ruthless," Jackson commented. "I think your T.O. is rubbing off on you more than you know."

"Nice try," I rebutted. "No mercy."

"Boot! Let's go!" Tim shouted.

I grabbed my garbage from the table. "May the best man win."

We had been back on patrol for about thirty minutes when the next call came in over dispatch.

"7-Adam-19, reports of an assault near Riverside and Woodman," dispatch announced.

I grabbed the radio before Tim could. "7-Adam-19, show us responding," I replied quickly.

Tim glanced at me with an annoyed expression. "Do you want to explain why you just grabbed my radio in my shop?"

I tried to calm my nerves, but I was failing. "My parent's office is off of Riverside and Woodman," I answered.

Some of Tim's annoyance disappeared. "It's a large street, Chen. They are probably fine. Get your head straight. I can't have my rookie compromised."

"Yeah," I agreed, trying not to press my foot into the floor of the passenger side to make the car go any faster-as if it would do that anyway.

A few seconds later, dispatch updated the call with the address and my heart stopped. Tim could read the worry on my face.

As we pulled onto the street, my parent's home/office, which also happened to be the second house on the street, came into view. Already I could see my mother and father on the front lawn with what I assumed was there patient swinging what looked like a rod or small bat at them. My parents were dodging the attacks, but as we pulled closer, I could see red splotches on my father's shirt and head.

I jumped from the car as soon as Tim brought our shop to a stop.

"Lucy!"

I didn't stop or acknowledge that Tim was calling my name, leaping into action to stop this mad man from attacking my parents.

"Hey! Police!" I shouted, hoping to get the person's sights on me.

"Get back! Get back all of you!" The man shouted waving what was a metal rod back and forth causing me to stop approaching him almost a shoulder length apart.

I could feel Tim behind me, trying to keep my parents back as they started to object at the fact that we were there and trying to defuse the situation.

"Mr. and Mrs. Chen, we need you to step back. Let us handle it," Tim said in a calm but asserting voice.

"No!" My dad shouted, shoving at Tim.

"Papa stop!" I begged.

"No. No one wants you here." His tone and words cut like a knife.

"You don't really have a choice. This man assaulted you," I said.

"Lucy!"

Tim's voice had me looking up just in time to see that by taking my eyes off the man had given him the opportunity to step forward, his rod swinging dangerously close to my head. I managed to duck just in time as Tim pulled my protesting father back by the arm towards my mother.

I grabbed the man's arm. "Drop it!" I ordered.

"Screw you. Screw all of you!" The man exclaimed.

The man jammed his elbow into my stomach, the wind knocking out of me, but I somehow managed not to let his wrist go. If I did, that would be dangerous. As it was, I knew Tim was already going to level into me for allowing my emotions to take over reason as a police officer.

I moved my ankle in front of his, using my body weight to pull him over my hip and take him to the ground. I held his wrist securely as he trashed making it difficult to roll him onto his stomach.

"Stop it! You're hurting him," my mother cried.

My head snapped in their direction, my look one of obvious disbelief. "Do you even care that he struck me?"

"Boot, focus," Tim snapped.

The man's legs managed to break free, kicking me in the thigh and pushing me back until I fell on my back. Tim stepped forward, but I growled and held up my hand to stop him.

I pulled out my taser and pointed it at the man. "Stop. Get on the ground now, or you will be tased."

"No!" My parents shouted in unison, Tim having to intervene, so they did not get past and make the situation any worse.

"Get out of my way, or I will make you," the man exclaimed, looking past me to my parents open fence to make a run for it.

"Get on the ground, now!" I repeated.

I could tell he wasn't going to do it. His body language and eyes told me he was going to make a mad dash to get past me for his freedom. My parents were already upset and against the fact that I was there, and I knew using my taser would only make it worse.

I holstered my taser, getting into position just as the man started to break into a run. I timed my foot just at the right time, extending it out so he caught it and fell roughly onto the ground.

I jumped onto his back, not even giving him an opportunity to wrestle to the side again, grabbing his one hand behind his back. He was still much stronger and bigger than me, and continuously resisting every movement I made.

"Stop! You're under arrest," I shouted.

The man's legs flailed, and even with one arm pinned behind his back, and all of my body weight on top, he still was not subdued.

"Boot, focus!" Tim snapped again.

I knew what he was telling me. Stop not doing my job because of the audience in front of me. As officers, we faced this sort of situation all the time. Mostly in domestic violence cases, but there was always a time or two when someone was a victim of aggravated assault who didn't want our help or want anything to happen to the person committing the crime.

My own parents included.

Our fight was going on for too long, and I was starting to lose some of my strength. Tim—as usual- was right. Just his two words telling me to focus was enough to silently tell me that as an officer I had reached the point of appropriate force being used.

I leaned closer to the man, bringing my elbow up before I brought it down and smacked him in the head. It was enough to get him to disorientated and stop long enough that I could grab his other arm and bring it behind his back to secure his wrists with cuffs.

I rolled off him to sit on my butt now that the threat was over, taking a minute to capture my breath. My radio had become dislodged hanging down my body and leg, my pants and shirt full of grass stains and dirt.

My cheek was starting to hurt, and as I lifted my hand to touch the spot, I came away with just the wisp of blood.

My parents pushed passed Tim to their patient's side, immediately trying to console him and tell him that everything was ok and that they would get this all sorted out. That it wasn't his fault.

Only then did my father look up at me with such disdain and disappointment, that water started to sting at the back of my eyes. His look hurt more than anything that had happened during the scuffle from the man I just secured with my cuffs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Chen, I need you to move," Tim demanded in his authoritative voice.

"No. You get off my lawn," my father replied in a combative voice.

I rolled to my knees and pushed to stand, grabbing my radio to place it back in my holster.

"Papa, you have to let us—"

"Don't you dare speak to me," he warned in that voice I had heard more than enough times when I was in trouble as a kid.

He switched to speaking in Cantonese telling me how disappointed he was in me, that he did not raise his daughter to behave and act this way and that I was stain on their legacy to wanting to actually help people, because all I was interested in was violence.

I had gotten good when I was younger at schooling my expression and emotions, well aware that Tim was watching me and easily picking up on my father's tone whether in English or not that he was verbally attacking me.

"Ok, that's enough!" Tim shouted. "Back up, now."

My father's words instantly stopped, my mother grabbing hold of my father and pulling him back. Tim glanced at me for a brief second, before he reached down and grabbed hold of the man and pulled him to a standing position.

The man was crying and talking to himself and mumbling things that were not coherent in addition to the fact that he needed to go, and we needed to let him go.

"He needs help," my father demanded.

"He's going to jail," Tim replied with a finality that only made my father angrier. He turned back to me. "Finish the job, Boot."

I sucked in a large breath, licked my lips, looking back at my parents whose expression was abhorrent, as I took the man's arm and started reading him his Miranda rights.

"Don't you dare do this, Lucy Chen. You will not be welcome here, if you do!" My father yelled after me, but I didn't stop until I finished reading him his rights and placed him in the back of our shop.

As I shut the door to the shop, I closed my eyes and took a minute knowing going back to face my parents was going to be a lot harder than the physical ones I just took.

Tim met me at the fence before I reached my parents. "You don't have to do this."

I swallowed. "Yes, I do."

"Lucy, I can—"

"I don't need your help," I snapped more forcefully than I intended.

Tim studied me for a long moment, closed his mouth and nodded. I felt bad snapping at him when he was trying to help, especially since he almost never wanted to help, but these were my parents. This was my life, and the last thing I was going to do was let my T.O. who I respected the hell out of think that I couldn't handle it. I had already messed up enough on this call alone. He wasn't going to fight this battle for me.

My father extracted himself from my mother's grasp as he took a step towards me. "That man needs help. How dare you abandon him in his time of need. He needs mental health care, not police brutality."

I tried to hold back on my anger. "Police brutality? Did you miss the moment where he attacked your daughter?"

"He's sick," my mother defended, stepping forward, her tone softening compared to my father's.

"That doesn't give him the right to attack a police officer," I argued. "He not only attacked me, but he attacked you. That is aggravated assault."

"I am not pressing charges," my father snapped.

"It doesn't work that way, papa. He struck you and me with a weapon. I have no choice. I have to do my job."

I was trying to reason with him, but this was so typical of my parents. They only saw their way and every other career choice was beneath theirs. The fact that I had chosen to become a cop was the worst of them all, which had up until this point only created more tension between us.

"If you do this, you will not be forgiven," he warned, switching back to English.

I sighed. "Mama, Papa, please understand, I have to do this."

They both shook their heads in shame at me, the disappointment evident in their eyes. "If you do this, you will not be welcome back here."

Water started to fill at the back of my eyes. "Well, I'm sorry that you feel that way." My voice cracked at the end.

I turned to Tim who was staring at my parents with controlled anger and disgust. He too had his fair baggage of a dad that wasn't always the greatest to him, and I could see his protective instincts kicking in.

"Both of you, I want you off my property," my father hollered.

My mother attempted to reach out and calm him down, but he shook her off.

"Go!"

"Calm down!" Tim snapped, getting closer to losing his patience with my parents.

I stepped forward, standing directly next to Tim, telling him with my gaze to just let it go.

"We're going," I said calmly even though I felt anything but. "Please consider going to the hospital and getting checked out. Your head is bleeding."

"I'm fine. Leave," he repeated.

"Lucy, maybe you should go now," my mother chimed in.

I nodded; sniffling, before I turned and walked towards the shop.

"Have a lovely day," Tim said sardonically, before catching up and falling into step by me.

I could tell that Tim wanted to say something, but I was thankful he didn't on the ride back to the station to process our arrest.

After I had him processed and changed into a new uniform, I was headed on my way to meet Tim to finish out the rest of my shift when my phone started to buzz in the back of my pocket. Pulling out the phone, I recognized the number coming from Shaw Memorial Hospital.

"This is Officer Chen," I said, as I picked up the phone. "Yes, he's, my father. I'll be right there."

I hung up the phone, running to the main area of the police station where Tim was inside of Sergeant Grey's office. As soon as I entered into the room, they both looked at me, before Tim came out of the room a few minutes later.

"Everything ok?" Tim asked.

"Um, no. The hospital called. My father was just admitted. My mother said he collapsed about twenty minutes ago and was taken by ambulance."

"Let's go," he said automatically.

I wanted to tell him it was ok that he didn't need to come with me, that I could handle this on my own, but I could see the look on his face that there was no talking him out of taking me there.

As soon as we got to the hospital, the nurse Gino, on staff recognized me and showed me to my father's room.

Tim stopped me just before I went in. "You know this is going to up his charges from assault on a protected victim with a weapon to assault resulting in bodily injuries or serious bodily injuries. He is going to face a felony charge."

My heart sank even though I already knew that information. "I know."

"If you need anything, I'll be out here," he offered.

"Thanks."

I inhaled a large breath before letting it out and stepping into my father's room, my mother sitting in the chair just to his side. She looked surprised to see me standing there.

"Lucy?"

I stopped at the foot of my father's bed; his eyes still closed as my hands rested on my belt. "The hospital called," I answered the silent question. "How's he doing?"

She looked from me to my father. "He's resting. They just got back from taking his tests. We should have the results soon."

My father stirred; his eyes opening, before he turned to see me standing there. "Why are you here?"

"I came to check on you. To see if you are ok," I said calmly.

"Are you moving forward with harming that poor man?"

I let out a long breath. "No one is harming him dad. I told you; I don't have a choice. He committed a number of crimes, felonies," I emphasized.

My father switched back to Cantonese, launching into a tirade of how I am apart of the very system he is fighting to stop, and I am part of the problem that has now failed the man that not only attacked him but me as well. I had the cut on my cheek to prove it.

By the time he got to telling me again what a disappointment I was to the family and how I betrayed them and everything they taught me. I just stood there listening to them tell me again and again, even though they couldn't understand how important my job—no my work—was to me.

"Then you can leave," he said.

"You know, for as much as you want to complain about the system and call me the enemy, you don't even bother to try to understand what I do. How I help people and make a difference in my position," I argued.

"There is no good that comes from what you do."

I shook my head. "Do you know what I did this morning?" I looked at each of them, but as usual, they didn't even show any interest. "I got a sexual predator off the street. A man that was videotaping and taking pictures of women without their consent." They said nothing. "I helped a woman who has been hooked on drugs for over a year get clean and see there was more to life than sticking a needle in her arm." Still nothing, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. "And my work that doesn't matter, that as you say does 'no good,' well, it helped me get a serial killer that has killed eleven girls off the streets. I did that. I did."

"Lucy—"

"No," I cut in stopping my mother from speaking. I was done taking their tongue lashing. "I am your daughter. Your daughter. You couldn't even be bothered to ask if I was ok after that man—who has a long history of physical violence-hit me and did this—" —I pointed to my cheek and the evidence of the cut he had caused— "—But because I chose a job that you disagree with, I seem to no longer matter to you."

I looked between the two of them, my mother at least looking as if my words somehow affected her, while my father refused to even look at me. To him, this was probably just another tantrum for him to ignore.

"My job is important to me. I am good at my job. I love what I do. Despite what you think, I am making a difference and the work that I do is important to the people that I help and save." I paused, never feeling this worked up and passionate before. "I'm just sorry you can't see past your prejudices to see that. To care enough about what is important to me."

I waited for a moment, hoping above all else that they would say something. Maybe that they were sorry they didn't defend me. That they didn't care enough about me than their job.

I was met with silence.

My mother's head hung low, and my father just stared straight ahead. The message was loud and clear.

I gave them one last look and turned and walked out of the room.

Tim

That's what took you so long, I thought as I waited for her to come out of the locker room after our shift ended.

We ended up tying with Lopez and Jackson, so we decided to just call it even considering her day.

The back of Lucy's hand came up to wipe under her nose, as she cleared her throat. "Uh, did I forget to do paperwork or something?"

"No. I just wanted to make sure you're ok," I said.

She fumbled with the keys in her hand. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for checking."

She started to walk past me to her car.

"Lucy."

She didn't stop walking. "Goodnight, Tim," she called out with a tremble. She was barely holding it together.

I turned; my handle on the door to my truck, when I stopped and looked at the direction of her car. She was just a few spots down from me. Something inside of me just wouldn't let me leave.

I walked over, glad that I did, as Lucy stood by the driver side of her car, her forehead resting against the palm of her hand with her keys.

I approached her slowly. "Lucy."

She looked up; her face shattered; her eyes welled up with tears. "Tim."

My name…it sounded so broken and pained. I took the last step, her arms coming around my waist as I held her to me, my chin to the top of her head as she cried.

Lucy was one of the toughest females I had ever met. She did everything she could to hold in her emotions and not let her guard down. I felt a sense of pride that she trusted me enough to be this vulnerable and place her trust in me.

"It's going to be ok, Lucy. I promise," I soothed as I held her while she cried.