Officer Jones

Chapter 43

He was Batman now. The mission was clear-written out in a bold headline on the front page of the newspaper. He could no longer deny his destiny. He must get justice for those two girls.

The accident took place in December of last year. Harris had been the star of the game, getting three sacks as the Cardinals beat their rival, the Dallas Cowboys, on Monday Night Football.

After the game, he joined a couple teammates, who hopped from bar to bar on the festive Mill Avenue, accepting numerous free drinks from strangers. Harris finally felt like the star he was always supposed to be. He partied until two in the morning, before leaving in his Porsche 911 Carrera.

The two girls had gone out to celebrate their final night of the semester at nearby Arizona State University. Finals had just ended and Kelly and Laura were booked on flights home the next day-Kelly to Wisconsin, Laura to Boston-but they wouldn’t make it. They never saw the black Porsche that sped out of nowhere as they attempted to cross University Drive.

As part of his probation, Harris was given court ordered alcohol rehabilitation. With the unique access available to a police officer, Batman was able to discover the location of the rehab class. It was in an unmarked storefront in a North Scottsdale strip mall, located between a Subway and an Osco Drug.

The meeting was open to all comers. Batman, outfitted in US Air Force T-shirt and jeans, walked inside the windowless room. Metal folding chairs were set up in a semicircle-it looked like a school classroom, with a desk and blackboard facing the “students.” He sat next to the large black man dressed in a running suit.

A middle-aged woman was the instructor. She wore glasses and a blue sundress. Her reptilian skin told a story of many unprotected years in the Arizona sun. She began predictably, “My name is Barbara and I’m an alcoholic.”

After the class gave her the expected applause, she pointed to the two new members-the more famous one being Leonard Harris. “I see we have two new members today. Please make them feel part of the group.”

There were about ten other people in the class, and they all clapped.

Harris slumped in his chair. He seemed to want to be anywhere else but here. Perhaps he could switch places with Kelly and Laura, Batman thought, wondering if he’d prefer their accommodations at the Motel Six-feet-under.

So he took the lead. “My name is Batman and I’m an alcoholic,” he belted out, full of emotion. He received the applause of the class, along with a few chuckles at the superhero moniker, which cut the tension.

It seemed to inspire Harris. He followed Batman’s lead, stood, and looked around the room. He remained frozen for a good minute, before sitting back down, and mumbling, “I can’t do this.”

Barbara comforted, “It’s alright. It would be perfectly fine if you just want to sit and listen today.”

Harris began to cry. “It doesn’t matter what I do. Nothing I do will bring those girls back. Nothing-you hear me … nothing!”

Batman put his arm around the bulging shoulders of Leonard Harris. “It’s okay,” he tried to put him at ease. “When I got back from the war, I came down with Gulf War Syndrome. I had no job skills, and my girlfriend left me. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired-so I began drinking. My life became all about getting the next drink. I had no job, no friends, no life. One night I put a pistol in my mouth and just as I was about to pull the trigger it came to me.”

The story was complete fiction, based on others he’d gone to war with, but it captured Harris’ attention. “What came to you?” he asked in a soft voice. It was as if they were the only two souls in the room.

“How important life is. The knowledge that we have to live every day to its fullest, and anything less is unacceptable.”

Tears began to stream down Harris’ face once again. “No matter what I do, I can’t bring them back. I stole their lives!”

Batman moved closer to Harris and hugged him. “It will never be good enough to live your life to the fullest. You also have to live their lives to the fullest. That’s why you need to get better, so you can live for them.”

The passionate speech closed the deal. He wiped the tears and rose to his feet. “My name is Leonard and I’m an alcoholic,” he said in a firm voice. The group clapped.

Batman walked out of the meeting, feeling satisfied with his first encounter with Harris, having laid the groundwork of trust.

He put on dark sunglasses to hide his eyes from the triple digit temperatures of early September in Scottsdale. The sky was painted aqua, with just two noticeable clouds. They crisscrossed to form an ‘X’, looking like vapor trail from a missile. It was as if the heavens approved of his work.

He strolled across the sizzling blacktop of the parking lot toward his vehicle. He wouldn’t have to chase Leonard Harris. He would come to him-it was a fait accompli. And if there was any doubt in his mind, it was erased when he heard Harris’ voice.

“Hey Batman … wait up.”