The Sheriff Steps In

It was near the end of a shift.  He would have loved to have just gone home, had a cool glass of iced tea with his wife Vicki, maybe have gone on to First Methodist for tonight's singing.   But when you were sheriff of Dixon County, sometimes you couldn't keep a deputy's schedule.  Sometimes you were called to duty even after a long, hard day. Why did he even run for this job?  Then he remembered his opponent, Walter Harley, and it came back.  Because he didn't want the department to be run by an idiot.

He got out of his police car, a made over Ford Crown Victoria.  They hadn't gotten new vehicles in over a decade.  Thank god the Evans brothers were the best mechanics in Southeast Georgia, and could keep their cars humming.

"Sheriff!" called out Deputy Davis Gorland.  A heavy set young man, his belt and holster almost hidden from view by his rolls of fat.  Davis may have had an inordinate weakness for fried chicken and a carefree attitude towards the necessity of exercise, but he was a loyal deputy, and a kind man.  He was standing on the front porch of the Denison's, a worried look on his face.

"What we got right now, Deputy?  Any change since Lucy called me?" Lucy was the dispatch officer at the Sheriff's office.  Lucy Mayer, a short stout woman with incredible energy and dedication, had served the department for over twenty years. She was the only one in the department who just referred to him as Alan.  Others in the Department called him Sheriff Steel.  Many of the regular citizens called him Sheriff Alan.  The sacrifices one sometimes made in the name of politics.

"He's still in the master bedroom, sir," answered Deputy Gorland as the Sheriff stepped onto the porch.  "We think he may have a gun in there with him," he added, in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Good god, son.  This is South Georgia.  Everybody's got a gun everywhere.  Is anybody in there with him?"  The Sheriff tried to peer in through the front bay window.

"No, sir.  The wife and children are in the front living room.  We don't think there's other relatives or a girlfriend or anything involved."  Sheriff Alan Steel nodded and proceeded into the house.

The wife was on the living room couch crying.  Their two young boys were playing with toy trucks on a rug in front of the mother. Edna Denison looked questioningly at the Sheriff, as if he had the miracle answer to get her husband to come out. "He's been in there for four days, Sheriff Alan!  I don't think he's ever gonna come out!  I'm very worried.  He's quit his job at the paper mill months ago, and the disability hasn't been approved, and we're way behind in the mortgage, and he's talking crazy, about how the whole family may be better off without him. Things just haven't been the same since the last tour."  Her husband, Dabs Denison, was an Army vet who had served tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Whatever happened over there must have finally caught up with him.

Deputy Gorland handed the Sheriff paper work from the Okefenokee Bank & Trust.  They were eviction papers for tomorrow at noon.  Alan gave a deep sigh.  That was Forrest Compton's bank, and he was a lot more Henry Potter than George Bailey. "Is he in there alone, Edna?"

Edna sniffed.  "Yes."

"Does Dabs have any weapons in there with him?  Anything he could hurt himself with?" the Sheriff asked, as gently as he could.

"Yes, he has his service revolver in there with him.  And he has access to the Master bath.  There's pills and razors in there."  A fire truck with siren a blazing pulled into the front yard.  The young Denison boys got up and excitedly went outside to see it.

The Sheriff looked up at his deputy.  "Next time Gary comes to something like this, tell him he doesn't need to come in with the sirens so loud." Gary Myles and his volunteer firefighters were sometimes as much of a menace as a help.  "Edna, has Dabs done anything violent or threatening to you or the boys?"

"Of course not!  Dabs is awful depressed but he would never do anything to hurt me or the boys." Edna was sobbing now.  "He asked to speak to you, Sheriff Alan.  He voted for you last election and he said that you were the only politician left on Earth that he trusts."

"Okay, Edna.  I'll do my best." He in no way felt up to the task.  But he pictured Walter Harley trying to handle this, and he knew he couldn't do worse.  He got up and gently rapped on the bedroom door.  "Dabs?  This is Sheriff Alan Steel.  You wanna see if we can get this resolved?  Edna and the boys are mighty worried."

"I thank you kindly for coming, Sheriff.  I hope I haven't imposed too much on you, Sir."  Dabs sounded a little shaky, but was polite and respectful, as always.

"Dabs, do ya mind if I come in there 'n talk?"

"I'm gonna crack open the door so you can come in.  Leave your gun outside.  I don't mean no harm, but I'll have a gun on you and I won't be forced out of this room."

"No problem, Dabs.  It'll just be me and you.  And I have no intention of forcing you to do anything."  As much as Alan trusted Dabs, he knew things weren't always predictable.  All he could think of was how much he wanted to sit down and have an iced tea with Vicki at least one more time.

He heard the door being unlocked, and then it creaked open, just enough to let him come in.  Dabs quickly locked the door, keeping a gun pointed at Alan the whole time.  "Sheriff, I'm so sorry to bring you into this.  I'm just having so much trouble trying to think what to do."

Dabs was a mess.  He looked pale, his beard was scraggly, he looked weak and even skinnier than normal.  He must not have eaten for the last four days.  He stunk like he had been in the same jeans and white t-shirt the whole time, and must not have availed himself of the shower in the bathroom.  Alan prayed that Dabs had at least drunk some of the tap water.

Dabs sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding a gun on Alan.  "Do you know anything about insurance, Sheriff?"

That was not the first thing the Sherriff anticipated coming out of Dab's mouth.  "Not a whole lot.  I can call Andy Caldwell if you want.  I got my cell in my pocket." Andy was the local State Farm agent.

Dabs looked alarmed.  "No, I can't talk to him!  He can't know what I'm thinking!  I have to figure it out, Sheriff.  I have to know.  I'm not worth anymore to Edna and the boys.  They'd be better off with me gone.  I'm trying to figure out how to do it without triggering the suicide clause."

"Dabs, you know they're not better off without you.  They are dripping with love for you.  Those boys need their Daddy more than anything, and Edna would be lost without you."

"But I can't work no more!  I can't hardly be around people.  The damn government won't approve my disability.  They're gonna evict us tomorrow!  I can't think straight no more!"

The Sheriff was at a loss.  How do you speak to such pain? "Well, Dabs, these are all problems we can work on.  We just have to..."

Dabs leapt up and grabbed Alan's arm.  "They killed them, Sheriff!  They were the wrong ones, and I couldn't stop them."  Dabs eyes glazed over.  "Sometimes I wonder...if maybe....I helped them."

I could just reach out and take his gun and end this standoff, the Sheriff thought.  But would that really end it? 

Alan looked up into Dab's pained face.  "First off, I do know enough about insurance that there's no way they're going to give Edna and your boys any money.  They're bloodsucking bastards, and they'll have excluded anything you or I could possibly think to do."

Dabs sunk back onto the bed, even lowering his gun.  But this was no longer about the gun.

"Let's take this as we can," reasoned the Sheriff.  "First off, I'm gonna check with some of the business people I know and see if I can find you some odd jobs you can do without having to be around a lot of people.  Secondly, running as a damn Republican, which I had to do because no one here will vote for a Democrat, I got to know Congressman Winston.  He's a one of them tea party wingnuts, but he owes me, and I think I can get him to fast track your disability request.  Third and most important, I'll get that cheapskate Forest Compton to back off on repossession of your house.  He needs me to evict, and I'll refuse, and if he don't like it, why I have some other banks in town that I can recommend my friends and family to move their money to."

Dabs had a small glimmer of hope in his eyes.  "You...you would do that for me, Sheriff?"

"Of course, Dabs.  We take care of each other in this community, even if the federal government and the bankers won't."

Dabs set the gun on the bed, and went to Alan.  They hugged, and Dab's tears flowed freely.  The Sheriff brought Dabs out of the room and Edna and the children held each other tight.  It was over.

For now.