The Smart Play
By Rob Morris
CHICAGO, 1994, ARBITRATION HEARING
The retired judge had been known as an advocate for a strong, vibrant police force that should be allowed to do its job.
For the second time (at least) in one year, the homicide detectives in one CPD squadroom had been wholly upended in their assumptions of how things would go.
"Gentlemen, I wish I could put aside my neutral status, but I will push things a bit by saying: This was some damned sloppy police work. You literally seem to have looked for reasons why Dr. Kimble must have murdered his wife, rather than investigating – well, half of the things he himself did while a fugitive. Your bias is clear – you had your man, and now you could stop looking. You wouldn't even bother to cover your asses by seriously checking out Dr. Kimble's account of the murder – and don't tell me you did – the real investigator sits here with us, waiting to decide how much of the CPD budget he might claim, and for once, I am inclined to aid him. Marshall Gerard?"
Sam Gerard of the US Marshalls service responded.
"Yes, sir?"
"Mister Gerard, do you have anything to add?"
Gerard fought off a smirk, which for him wasn't that hard, but this bunch made that just a trifle harder.
"My job was to bring Dr. Kimble back into custody. As I told him – inside a large water drain – his guilt or innocence was not my concern. But in speaking with my fellow law enforcement professionals in this city – I have to say I found a lot of circular logic backing up their presumptions. Not in my pay-grade to determine the whys and wherefores of this approach – it's probably led to a fair amount of proper convictions – though as I'm told some past ones are now also under review. At the risk of bad relations between my department and theirs, I can still only call much of their way of doing things – as lazy."
As the squad leader and union rep rose as one, the arbitrator shot a glare fit to melt steel.
"Gentlemen, one more word about honest hard working cops and I will leak to the press several examples of police officers who were neither so honest nor so hard working – I'm retired, my pension is secure, so don't push me. And word to the wise – be happy that my jurisdiction did not extend to checking the CPD for – unofficial - contacts with Mister Sykes. Just call it a hunch that too would not have gone well."
The arbitrator turned to the target of first a misplaced trial, then a manhunt that he wanted to read a firsthand account of, when it was gotten to.
"Dr. Kimble, you have this city at a supreme disadvantage. Counting all the errors and missteps and malfeasance – including those of your own recently replaced attorney – no surprise there – would take decades. Not all of this can be placed on the CPD or overzealous prosecutors, but enough can that you could seriously impact this city's future in a negative way. I suppose I'm asking you to name your price."
Kimble, who still froze when hearing any sound remotely like a siren, said some welcome words.
"Except for legal fees, I ask for no monetary compensation. I do have a list of things I want, and unless explicitly told no by a court of some standing, I will not negotiate these. First off, unambiguous statements of innocence from both the CPD and prosecutors. I've seen many a news report where even the most exculpatory situation is still spoken of as though there were still doubt. In a word, No. I don't care about the optics for these individuals. If they want this to remain a zero-dollar settlement, that goes out, with no doubts expressed."
Gerard nodded at his awkwardly-met recent associate, and Kimble kept on.
"No reminders. No nice officers just saying hi – or anything else. You gave yourself this black eye. I don't even know how long I'm remaining in Chicago – but unless I blow straight through a red light or past that – I want to be let be."
A familiar voice ignored his leaders and rose from his chair.
"You cocky son of a bitch! You scamper off on a freaking technicality –"
One officer in the room was reaching for his nightstick – and not looking at Kimble. The loud-mouth sat back down. Gerard, who had chosen to attend this closing hearing more out of curiosity than necessity, added his two cents.
"Quite the technicality, Detective. If that's your view of proceedings, I do not have high hopes for that review of your prior cases."
The squad leader rose now and while not shouting, shook with fury.
"Whose side are you on?"
Gerard swerved to look at the now-slightly more portly man.
"I won't insult the cause of justice by giving you more than this. But I will answer another way. I asked all of you why Richard here supposedly killed his wife, and you told me it was for the insurance. Wow, that fell apart quickly for me. I mean, besides his not needing the money, he reported the crime. Then, some of you told my team you found his DNA all over his wife and his house. Spouses do tend to get each other's DNA on them – or one would tend to hope. But I wasn't asking to exonerate him or poke holes in your narrative – like the man just said, you did that yourself. If you think you didn't, then why did my team have to find out for ourselves if Richard here had any gambling debts, or was running drugs out of his hospital? Because we checked all that, instead of inventing reasons that fit our preconceived notions. You should try it – it's all the rage in our office."
The Arbitrator took back control of the hearing.
"Why I agreed to this..the mayor owes me so big. Dr. Kimble, please continue."
Kimble did just that.
"There will inevitably be a report on this, with some recommendations about mistakes and corrective measures. I will give it two years before I re-consider my zero-dollar offer. Our friend the Union spokesman has had some things to say about burdens. To quote my newest friend, I don't care. Unless it is physically impossible, it is done, just like that. Last of all – I am reliably informed that a reward was offered to the officer that collared me – well, that officer was Sam Gerard. Before I leave this building – and that is almost all. There's just one more thing. A statement."
Gerard would end up sharing this 12-year old bottle of Scotch to a very happy team, and that team would toast their exonerated former target. But for now, Kimble rose and looked at the loud-mouthed detective from earlier.
"Got something to say, rich boy?"
Kimble smiled, and spoke in a savage imitation of the Detective's pronounced accent.
"So…there was this one-ahmed guuuuy…"
Kimble waited, and the loud-mouth, not wanting to be the one that de-funded his department, shook with rage and left. No locker in the nearby rooms was safe for hours to follow.
After thanking Kimble for not taking financial advantage of his ordeal (and not caring about the looks shot at him by officers he once admired), the Arbitrator completed his work and was joyful to do so. Gerard decided to settle other business.
"You put me and mine through the wringer, Richard."
Kimble knew this was coming.
"Yeah, and I'm certain my careful path has some questions in other jurisdictions that need to be settled."
Gerard shrugged.
"Most of them that don't drop the charges may just want you to pose for some pictures for nostalgia and tourism. Double that if a book or movie comes out of this."
Kimble nodded.
"And you, Sam?"
Gerard sighed, hoping he would never again face down a target as smart as this man. He kept to himself an amazement that Kimble dropped the dollars in favor of a mix of big and small alternative goals. The city's bean-counters would doubtless lean on the reluctant, whereas otherwise they would be tying payments up for potentially decades.
"What I want, Richard, is a month of your time – you telling me and my boys and girls how you laid low so damned well. I also don't want to repeat any mistakes. So what's the name of the book?"
"I'm not gonna write a boo—"
Sam smiled, shooting down the lie. Kimble relented.
"I was thinking of With One Arm At My Throat."
Gerard winced.
"Kind of wordy. How about just 'The Fugitive'?"
Now Kimble winced.
"Deputy Gerard? Don't quit your day job."
They shared a laugh.
"No plans for that, Dr. Kimble."