4th of July

Chapter 13

“KILL,” I SAID TO Martha. She looked up at me and wagged her tail. Trained border collies respond to many commands, but “Kill” isn’t one of them. I took the envelope from the kid, who backed away with his hands in the air. I slammed the door shut with my cane.

Upstairs in my apartment, I took what was clearly a legal notice out to the glass-and-tubular-steel table on my terrace, which had a staggering view of San Francisco Bay. I carefully eased my sorry butt into a chair.

Martha settled her head onto my good thigh, and I stroked her as I stared out across the hypnotic swells of glinting water.

The minutes ticked by, and when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I opened the envelope and unfolded the document.

Legalese jumped all around the “writ, summons, and complaint” as I tried to find the point of it. It wasn’t that hard. Dr. Andrew Cabot was suing me for “wrongful death, excessive use of force, and police misconduct.” He was asking for a preliminary hearing in a week’s time in order to attach my apartment, my bank account, and any worldly goods I might attempt to hide before the trial.

Cabot was suing me!

I felt hot and cold at the same time as a sense of profound injustice roared through me. I replayed the whole scene again. Yes, I’d made a mistake by trusting those kids, but excessive force? Police misconduct? Wrongful death?

Those murdering kids had had guns.

They’d shot me and Jacobi while our weapons were holstered. I’d ordered them to drop their guns before I returned fire! Jacobi was my witness. This was a clear-cut case of self-defense. Crystal clear!

But I was still scared. No, actually I was petrified.

I could see the headlines now. The public would set up a howl: sweet-faced little kids gunned down by a cop. The press would lap it up. I would be pilloried on Court TV.

In a minute or so, I would have to call Tracchio, get legal representation, marshal my forces. But I couldn’t do anything yet. I was frozen in my chair, paralyzed by a growing notion that I’d forgotten something important.

Something that could really hurt me.