Nathan’s Run

Chapter 15

JDC Superintendent Harold Johnstone went ballistic at the very notion that Sergeant Hackner would believe such slander about one of his most loyal and effective employees. “I heard what that little bastard had to say on the radio this morning, and every word of it is a lie. Ricky Harris worked at this facility for five years, and had a spotless record. I will not allow you to defame the—”

Hackner cut him short with a quick gesture of his hand. “We’re not defaming anyone, Mr. Johnstone. We’re simply asking questions.” In the manner of most police officers on official business, Hackner referred to himself in the first person plural.

“Then you should know that your questions are offensive,” Johnstone retorted. He was a big man, at least sixty pounds overweight, who apparently bought his clothes hoping that one day he’d fit into them comfortably. His shirt collar was perpetually open, with his tie cinched as tight as the girth of his neck would allow. The buttons on his shirt strained to the point of causing danger to anyone sitting in front of him. A walrus mustache completely concealed his upper lip. Large, flapping jowls completed the image of a bureaucrat who’d been in his position a few years longer than he should have.

Even though he’d repeatedly relearned the evils of judging books by their covers, Hackner found it difficult to muster respect for this man.

“Mr. Johnstone,” Jed said measuredly, clearly annoyed at the irrelevance of all of this, “you may take offense if you wish, or you can answer the questions in the spirit in which they’re offered. I really don’t care. Either way, there are issues that remain unresolved, and it’s my job to resolve them. Your job is to cooperate. Unless, of course, you have something to hide.” Hackner couldn’t resist that last jab. Johnstone was one of those guys who was simply fun to piss off.

The superintendent rose from his chair, using his arms to lift at least half of the load. “How dare you imply that I’m somehow culpable—”

Hackner waved him off again, instantly sorry that he’d goaded him further off the subject. “Sit down, sit down. I’m sorry about that last comment. It’s been a long day.”

Johnstone studied Hackner’s face for a long moment, gauging the other man’s sincerity. Hackner was well-practiced at concealing his real thoughts, so Johnstone was appeased.

“Indeed, it has been a very long day,” Johnstone said, returning to his seat. “This entire episode has been very unsettling. Nathan Bailey killed a fine supervisor whom I will miss a great deal:’

Hackner’s eyes narrowed considerably. “You know, that sentiment is a substantial departure from what we’ve been led to believe.”

Johnstone frowned. “After the lies that Nathan told on the radio, I don’t wonder that you feel that way.”

Hackner shifted in his seat. He sensed that there was a game being played here, the rules of which he was only dimly aware. Johnstone was certainly smart enough to know that Nathan’s allegations would make a huge splash in the press, and that his career trajectory would ultimately be determined by the public’s perception of how he ran his little domain. He had every reason in the world to equivocate.

“Why was Nathan placed in the Crisis Unit last night?”

Johnstone looked embarrassed. “I’m afraid we can only conjecture. Ricky hadn’t had a chance to write any notes before he was murdered.” His choice of words demonstrated that he, too, knew how to goad a potential adversary. “My guess is that there was some sort of behavior problem.”

“Did the other kids notice any behavior problem?”

Johnstone chuckled and shook his head.

Now the fat fuck is patronizing me, Hackner thought.

“Sergeant Hackner,” Johnstone explained, “in this facility, we use a lot of euphemisms in an effort to project our mission as something less… well, disturbing than it really is. We are, in fact, a prison. Our residents are really inmates, our housing units are really cell blocks and our supervisors are really guards. We know this, you and I, because we are part of the system. But it makes us feel better somehow to think of this place as a sleepover camp for disadvantaged children. It is no such thing. Even the children are not children, in the sense that people in the world think of them. They are human flotsam, assigned here by the courts because society doesn’t want them anymore. In this place, a behavior problem becomes a very relative term. In your world a fight among kids in the hallway in school is a behavior problem. Here, it’s an everyday occurrence. I don’t ask our kids questions about other kids’ behavior. Not only would I not believe their answers, but I wouldn’t put them in a position of having to give information to me. To do so may well involve them in a behavior problem from which they would not be able to walk away.”

“So, what’s your point?’

“My point is that you can’t believe what the residents tell you, and that to solicit their input is an exercise in futility.”

Jed couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Right or wrong, then, your staff is always right.”

Johnstone considered the statement for a long moment before buying into it. Then, “In a word, yes.”

“Jesus Christ, Johnstone, you’re inviting corruption!” Hackner protested. “You’re telling me that your staff can do whatever they please, and as long as they hide it well, that’s okay with you.”

Johnstone slammed his fist on his desk, sending a ripple through the surface of his abundant torso. “Don’t lecture me, Sergeant. Open your eyes. This whole system is corrupt already! We pretend there is hope for these kids when there is no such thing. We use words and phrases to soften realities that no one wants to face. These kids are animals, Hackner. Animals. And we are the fucking zookeepers. So, do I think the residents here lie? Yes, because they do. And do I accept what my staff tells me as true? Yes, because I have to. In a place like this, it’s the only reality there is.”

For the longest time, Hackner just stared, his fa’ce showing a combination of disbelief and disgust. He’d spent enough years on the force to know what these kids were capable of, but from his perspective, Johnstone, given the position he held, should at least be giving lip service to the goal of rehabilitation. Instead, he’d clearly given up. Every two weeks, he collected a paycheck on false pretenses. On a different case, the hypocrisy might not have registered, but on this one, it really pissed Jed off.

“Is it standard procedure to relieve a resident of his shoes when placing them in the Crisis Unit?” Jed asked, shifting gears.

Johnstone appeared relieved to be once again discussing factual issues instead of theoretical ones. “I wouldn’t say it was common, but it certainly isn’t unusual.”

“What’s the purpose?”

Johnstone spoke as though he were prepared for the question. “When residents arrive here, they arrive with nothing of their own. They’re made to shower in the stall immediately adjacent to the in-processing area, after which they hand over all of their personal belongings. At that point they become dependent upon the system for everything. We give them their underwear, their clothes, their toiletries, everything. To be so dependent on others—particularly on others whom you dislike—has a severe impact on self-esteem. Beginning on that first day, they learn that dignity is a function of respecting the system. If they behave, for example, they can earn points toward the purchase of their own bar of soap, or a bottle of their favorite shampoo. These things then become status symbols. When they misbehave, however, the most basic elements of self-esteem become vulnerable. Thus, it is not uncommon for a resident to be relieved of something of importance as they’re placed into the Unit. In severe cases, they must strip completely for their term in the Unit. It’s all part of a behavior modification program with which we’ve had a great deal of success.”

Hackner launched his next question like a weapon. “Your records show that Nathan Bailey was raped with a broom handle during his first night at the JDC. Was that part of your dignity deprivation program?”

Anger burned behind Johnstone’s eyes, of a magnitude beyond hatred. “Think what you will of me and my operation here, Sergeant,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “but I have never once condoned an act of violence on these premises.”

“Yeah, I’m touched,” Hackner replied. “But you don’t seem to do much to prevent it, either.”

“I merely live in the real world, Sergeant. ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.’ That’s not a bad prayer to live by.”

“Yeah, well, I prefer, ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’”