Juxtaposition

By James McGrath

Juxtaposition is a gripping police drama depicting the thrilling adventures and everyday challenges in the work of a police officer. From the first page through the last one, readers get drawn into the story as they follow Captain Michaels, an officer and crime-fighter. Michaels's life is anything but normal--from his dedication to his job to his devotion to his wife, Joanne, whose life, unfortunately, ends prematurely. The cop's world is turned into disarray and the captain makes substantial changes in his lifestyle. He longs for a quiet life outside his professional one and attains it, at least temporarily. Unexpectedly, Nancy's intrusion rapidly turns reality into a topsy-turvy world again. What follows is an often-contentious relationship, thirsting for calm and tranquility that is not easily attained.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645752516

James McGrath

The Dodsworth Lane Man, James McGrath's autobiography, launched his writing career. That experience led to McGrath's first self-published fictional novel, The Legend of Imogene Byrnes. Both publications whetted McGrath's passion to enrich and refine his characters and enhance their dialogue, causing both to be more genuine and authentic. A U.S. naval reserve veteran, a retired HR industrial relations manager, a former police captain, a one-time director of meat operations, and a previous real estate broker, some positions held concurrently, accentuate McGrath's unique professional resume before he began his writing career. His broad experiences bring authenticity and discernment to the characters in his stories. Being blessed with an extraordinary career permitted McGrath to be photographed with actor/sausage maker, Jimmy Dean; singer/actor, Kenny Rogers; MLB hall of famer Harmon Killebrew; and Naismith Memorial Basketball hall of fame coach, Al McGuire. McGrath even appeared with comedian/actor, Tom Dreesen in an opening act of a Frank Sinatra Concert. McGrath's interesting professional career and success in public, fraternal and civic endeavors led to wide array of recognitions: Key to the City, Man of the Year, Knight of the Year, Lifetime Achievement Award, and a dozen others.

Book preview

Juxtaposition

James McGrath

Austin Macauley Publishers

Juxtaposition

About the Author

Dedication

Copyright Information ©

Acknowledgment

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Shootout Leaves Two Dead, One Wounded

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

About the Author

The Dodsworth Lane Man, James McGrath’s autobiography, launched his writing career. That experience led to McGrath’s first self-published fictional novel, The Legend of Imogene Byrnes. Both publications whetted McGrath’s passion to enrich and refine his characters and enhance their dialogue, causing both to be more genuine and authentic.

A U.S. naval reserve veteran, a retired HR industrial relations manager, a former police captain, a one-time director of meat operations, and a previous real estate broker, some positions held concurrently, accentuate McGrath’s unique professional resume before he began his writing career. His broad experiences bring authenticity and discernment to the characters in his stories.

Being blessed with an extraordinary career permitted McGrath to be photographed with actor/sausage maker, Jimmy Dean; singer/actor, Kenny Rogers; MLB hall of famer Harmon Killebrew; and Naismith Memorial Basketball hall of fame coach, Al McGuire. McGrath even appeared with comedian/actor, Tom Dreesen in an opening act of a Frank Sinatra Concert.

McGrath’s interesting professional career and success in public, fraternal and civic endeavors led to wide array of recognitions: Key to the City, Man of the Year, Knight of the Year, Lifetime Achievement Award, and a dozen others.

Dedication

The work is dedicated to my wife, Joan, whom I dearly love. She has tolerated the many hours I’ve spent at the computer writing, editing, proofing and finalizing this story.

I love you for your patience and understanding!

Copyright Information ©

James McGrath (2020)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Austin Macauley is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In this spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

McGrath, James

Juxtaposition

ISBN 9781645368793 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781645752509 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781645752516 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020915173

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

Thank you, Barbara Hunt, for the endless hours of editing this work.

The author recognizes the following members of the law enforcement profession for their dedication to the communities they served and as an inspiration for this work: Chief George Arnold – Campbell County, KY; William Bertelsman – U.S. District Judge for Eastern KY; Chief Jim Carson – Southgate, KY: Captain Al Garnick – Newport, KY; Chief Bill Gasdorf – Highland Heights, KY; Sheriff Al Howe – Campbell County, KY; Captain Ed Miller – Kentucky State Police; Assistant U.S. Attorney Reid Pixler – Phoenix, AZ; Sheriff George Ratterman – Campbell County, KY; Chief Stanley Schrotel – Cincinnati, OH; and Sheriff Dan Tehan – Hamilton County, OH.

Chapter 1

Give it up, Gus! Lay down your weapon and come out with your hands up!

The voice was impressive and commanding, filling the summer air like a clarion trumpet.

Go ta hell, Copper; I ain’t comin’ out ’til ya give me some cash anna getaway car.

What made Gus’ situation worse was the captain calling him by name.

The frenzied would-be bandit fired a warning shot from his Smith and Wesson revolver into the ground, not wanting to hurt anyone, as he wondered to himself,

How da hell does dat cop know my name?

Quit firing your weapon, Gus; someone might get hurt. Besides, you’re wasting time. You’re not gettin’ money, and you’re not gettin’ a car. But, I’ll tell you what – I’ll give ya two minutes to surrender, to come out with your hands where I can see them, or I’ll send in a K-9 officer to take a chunk out of your leg.

Captain Michaels was bluffing; there was no K-9 at the scene, and none was on its way. The lawman looked at his watch; it was three forty-four as he tried to implement one of the fictional Lone Ranger’s codes of conduct, as he sought to end the situation with a minimal amount of confrontation. Jim found both his boyhood hero’s protocol and his temperament, to be taxing his police training.

Gus’s reply to the lawman’s last verbal warning was to fire a second shot, this time in Jim’s direction, striking the two-foot-high concrete block wall behind which the captain had taken cover. The knee-high wall separated the rear property line of adjoining businesses and was the only shield between the lawman and the lawbreaker.

Unfortunately, for Jim, the culprit’s bullet hit the top of the structure, chipping off a business card-size chunk of the sand and cement aggregate with such force that the concrete fragment clipped Jim’s left ear as it tore free from the wall, forcing the lawman to the ground. Blood began to seep from the assaulted ear. Sweat, a result of the late July afternoon’s ninety-degree temperature, saturated the open lesion causing a stinging sensation.

Damn! That smarts! the captain exclaimed out loud as he quickly grabbed a handkerchief from his right rear pant pocket and applied it to the injury.

Following his errant shot at the captain, the perp issued his stipulation, shouting, I’ll shoot any damn dog that comes into sight. That mutt ain’t no better ’an any ya other cops.

Captain Michaels looked at the bloodied handkerchief, turned the folded square to a clean spot, and reapplied it. He countered Gus’ challenge with a proviso of his own.

You don’t want to do that, Gus. You shoot a K-9 officer, and it’s the same as shooting one of us. We’ll be obliged to open fire; if we do that, you’ll never see your mother again. Your mother is a sweet lady, Gus, and she doesn’t deserve this; don’t do this to your mother, Gus! How about it, Man? Come out and let’s put an end to this. Your two minutes starts now.

The volatile situation began less than ten minutes earlier when the first-time would-be hold-up man tried to rob a sub shop courier who was taking the restaurant’s receipts to the bank. It was the rogue’s misfortune to have Jim Michaels drive into the parking lot and see what was happening as the despicable act was unfolding.

Spotting the gunman with his pistol pointed at the restaurant employee while reaching for the money bag, Michaels quickly alighted from his car and hollered,

Police! Drop the gun!

Instead of obeying the command, Gus Harley dropped the satchel and ran around behind the restaurant, crossed the rear of the asphalt parking lot, hopped over a short wall, and continued onto the adjoining property. Captain Michaels ran after Gus, and as he rushed past the frightened restaurant employee, shouted to the young man,

Stay here! Better yet, go inside ’til I get back!

The would-be thief ran toward the nearest building on the adjoining property beyond the restaurant’s parking lot. Fortuitously, Gus found the unlocked door to the electrical equipment room of a dry-cleaning business, that had accidentally left its utility room unlocked. However, the bandit’s misfortune continued to plague him, for as Gus hurried inside the small enclosure, Michaels saw the crook duck into the tiny room. The young would-be robber was having a terrible day.

Now, silence fell over the scoundrel as the second hand on rogue’s watch ticked away. Gus Harley thought about what the police officer had said regarding his mother. Mrs. Everett Harley would indeed be heartbroken if her

son died in a confrontation with the police. The would-be bandit’s mom had already lost her husband to cancer barely a year ago. It would not be suitable for the woman’s delicate health to lose her son in a shoot-out with the police. Such a scenario might be more than the sickly woman’s poor heart conditions could tolerate. And, how did the cop know about him and his mom?

The first minute of the ultimatum ticked into history. Fifty-nine seconds remained, then fifty-eight, then fifty-seven, tick, tick, tick, tick, now fifty-two seconds. Gus found the highly stressful situation was overloading his brain. With beads of perspiration running down his temples and his heart pounding like a bass drum, Gus weighed his next move. His voice trembled as the words fell somberly from his lips,

Alright, Cop! I’m coming out; I put my gun down, don’t shoot; I ain’t armed, I left the gun on the floor in here.

Gus stepped out of the utility room with his trembling hands raised above his head.

Captain Michaels cautiously peered over the short wall and saw Gus standing awkwardly several feet from the utility room. The lawman rose slowly, climbed gingerly over the barrier, and hurried toward his rookie lawbreaker. Pointing his 9-mm automatic pistol at Gus, the captain said,

Turn around and stand still; don’t move.

Gus obeyed silently, like a frightened lamb. Upon reaching Gus, Jim continued,

Alright, now slowly lower your hands, one at a time, and put them behind your back so I can cuff ya.

As the young Mr. Harley complied, Michaels returned his weapon to its holster; and then placed stainless steel handcuffs on his prisoner. Satisfied that the cuffs were secure but not pinching his prisoner, the lawman Mirandized his captive.

Gus, you’re under arrest for attempted armed robbery. Ya have the right to remain silent. Anything ya say can and will be used against ya in a court of law. Ya have a right to an attorney. If ya cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do ya understand what I’ve just told ya?

The young felon turned around to face his captor, albeit with his eyes down and his chin was nearly touching his chest. He mumbled almost inaudibly,

Yeah, I heard ya, Cop.

What the hell made ya think ya could get away with something like this, Gus? You live in this neighborhood. People would recognize ya, for Pete’s sake. And, where did ya get the gun? Using a firearm in a robbery, even an attempted robbery, makes the crime a felony.

The voice now reaching Gus’ ears sounded entirely familiar. He raised his head and considered the face of his captor. Gus realized, for the first time, that he knew the police officer who was talking to him – that’s how Jim could call Gus by name and know about his mother. Quickly, Gus dropped his hostility toward Jim; he felt the pent-up tension leave his body. Gus answered as politely as he knew how, even though it was without proper grammar.

Yeah, I know, Mr. Michaels, but I needed the money. I wanted one of them Smart Phones like everybody’s got so’s I can be cool like the dudes that’s got ‘em. But mostly, I was wantin’ some cash to help my mom with her bills.

Captain Michaels listened to Gus’ sympathetic tale with little emotion. Then, gently tapping his prisoner on his chest, Jim said,

Listen, Gus; I’m going to get your gun from the room where you left it; don’t try running, or I’ll have to charge you with attempting to escape. One thing you don’t need is another criminal charge against ya, okay?

"Yeah, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Mr. Michaels," the detainee said, referring to the lawman by the title most of the people in the neighborhood called Jim.

The captain retrieved the Smith & Wesson .38 revolver from the floor of the utility room and placed it in his vest pocket. Next, Jim lightly grabbed Gus’ left arm and led him back to the parking lot where the attempted burglary began to unfold. The lawman used his left hand to return his handkerchief to his left ear. The bleeding had stopped, but then a light summer breeze aggravated the irritated ear.

The entire episode might have been from an old black and white movie, circa 1940 with Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney, Edward G. Robinson, or anyone of the lists of awesome male characters facing some detective-hero under the fictitious name of Sam Spade, Philip Marlowe or Mike Hammer. At this point in the cinema, the picture would fade to black, and the movie would continue with another scene. Life plays out differently; for one thing, there was paperwork to be done.

Back at the parking lot of the restaurant, Captain Michaels opened the rear door on the passenger’s side of his unmarked cruiser and ordered,

Get in, Gus!

Jim reached around the back of the young man’s head in his left hand and cradled it so his prisoner wouldn’t hit his head against the car’s door frame.

Sit still and be quiet; don’t make any trouble, okay? Jim said.

Yeah, okay, Mr. Michaels, Gus said as he looked up into the lawman’s face. He asked a question.

Ya gonna call my mom? Mr. Michaels.

No, I don’t intend to call your mom, Gus. I’m going to have someone get ya and take ya to ‘Central.’ You’ll be processed, ya know, fingerprinted, and photographed. After that, you’ll get an opportunity to make a phone call. You’ll be able to call your mother at that time. Okay?

Yeah, okay, Mr. Michaels.

As he looked searchingly at Jim, Gus noticed for the first time, the blood on Captain Michaels’ ear. He asked,

What happened to yur ear, Mr. Michaels?

You took a shot at me. The bullet hit the concrete wall and tore loose a piece of it that hit my ear.

I’m really sorry ’bout that, Mr. Michaels; I wouldna shot if I know’d it was you.

Captain Michaels took a deep breath, sighed, and decided to be practical in his response.

Look, Gus, ya fired a gun at another human being. Whether it was me or another officer or a civilian, ya might have killed somebody with your carelessness.

The villain closed his eyes, laid his head back on the car’s headrest, and sighed deeply without comment.

Jim Michaels took one more try at getting some information from the neighborhood scamp.

Where did ya get the gun, Gus? the captain asked.

The culprit turned his reclined head toward Jim, paused momentarily and said,

I ain’t sure I wanna tell ya that, but I guess you’ll find out sooner or later, won’t ya?

"You know I will; it wouldn’t hurt if ya saved me some time finding out; now how about it?’

Well, tha fact is, I took it from ol’ Markie Avery. He kept it under tha counter in tha back of his liquor store. Ol’ Markie always covered it with a pair of work gloves. I doubt he even knows it’s gone ’cause I just took it this morning.

You’re a regular one-man crime spree today, aren’t ya, Gus?

The younger man shrugged his shoulders and cast his eyes downward. When he looked up again, Captain Michaels saw a single tear slowly rolling down each of his captive’s cheeks.

I guess ya could say it ain’t been one of tha best days of my life. What’s gonna happen ta me, Mr. Michaels?

The captain spoke slowly and deliberately so Harley would understand.

"You’ll have a court appearance in front of a judge; that may happen as soon as tomorrow. I’m guessing you’ll get a chance to post a bond. If ya can’t secure bail – and I’m guessing ya can’t – you’ll stay in jail until your trial. Since ya probably don’t have enough money for an attorney, a Public Defender will be appointed to represent ya. After that, it depends upon the testimony at your trial. Keep in mind; ya used a stolen gun to attempt to steal money from somebody. That’s called an armed robbery, and ya stole the gun for that purpose; that makes the act pre-meditated. On top of that, I witnessed the attempted crime, and I’ll be called by the prosecuting attorney to testify to what I saw and did. Besides all that, ya shot at me and, although the bullet didn’t hit me directly, it did cause injury and bleeding to my ear. I guess when ya add it all up, ya might be looking at eight to ten years in prison."

The remorseful detainee listened intently to Lawman Michaels recite the litany of possible events that lay ahead for the nineteen-year-old crew-cut blonde man. In a different setting, under different circumstances, the captive might have been a college freshman. Instead, he was a novice thief facing time in prison. As the arrestee pondered his doomed future, the tears on his cheeks multiplied as the realization that his foolish actions would have an unpleasant consequence.

Man, this’s nuts! Can’t I catch a break since this is my first time at breakin’ tha law? And, what about my mom, how’s she supposed to get along without me lookin’ after her?

"I don’t know the answer to those questions, Gus. It’s something ya should’ve thought about before ya decided to become a ‘highwayman.’ And you’ll certainly want to discuss them with your Public Defender Attorney. The court may consider your mother’s dependence on you – or it may not. The judge may weigh your age and the fact that this is your first criminal offense in determining your punishment – but maybe he won’t. And the judge may be a woman and have a kind of empathy for your situation at home, whereas a male judge may see things differently.

Although I’ve studied criminal law, I’m not an attorney. However, it seems to me there are a few things ya can do to help yourself. Interested?

Yeah, sure, Mr. Michaels. Whaddaya got?

"First and foremost, be a model prisoner. Do what you’re told to do without complaining or griping. Be polite to everybody – and I mean everybody! Project a positive image; don’t get down on yourself. Ya made a mistake when ya stole Mr. Avery’s gun, and – out of ignorance or fear, ya compounded it with attempted robbery. That’s on you, and you’re going to have to live with it, but don’t let what ya did pull ya down or make ya a miserable SOB to everybody else. As our ‘British cousins’ seem to be fond of saying, ‘keep a

stiff upper lip,’ in other words, don’t be intimidated by the unknown. A positive attitude is going to be your best ally regardless of what happens in court. Do ya think ya can handle that; be that kind of person?"

I can give it a try; I got nothing to lose by tryin’, right, Mr. Michaels?

Chapter 2

Less than two weeks after the arrest of Gus Harley for the aborted holdup, Captain Michaels was in court to testify in an attempted homicide case that occurred six weeks short of a year earlier.

There was a certain tenseness in the courtroom, an uneasy ambiance that permeated the air. Had a cat been present, it undoubtedly would have arched its back and puffed its tail at the raw edginess.

The entire assembly of the Superior Courtroom of Capital City was as quiet and solemn as a Catholic congregation during the consecration of the host at a Mass. Court officials and spectators alike, sat motionless and silent, as they watched the duly sworn deliberators return from their jury room considerations and enter the court’s jury box.

Judge Turner McCarthy looked to the jury foreman, Charles Anderson, a robust man of forty-eight years. The judge noted the strained look on the foreman’s face as well as the other eleven members of the panel. What McCarthy saw was emotional and physical exhaustion. The jury members had argued, debated, and discussed the evidence for forty-two hours over the past two and a half days before they reached a decision. Speaking to Anderson, Judge McCarthy asked,

Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?

Charles Anderson rose from his seat, allowed his bloodshot eyes to scan the court officials and the spectators. He desperately wanted a hot shower, a home-cooked meal, and a day of uninterrupted sleep. Returning his attention to the judge, Anderson, in a strained voice said,

"Yes, Your Honor, we’ve reached a unanimous decision."

As Anderson spoke, he handed a folded-in-half sheet of white paper to the court clerk, who carried it over to the judge’s bench and gave the document to Judge McCarthy. The jurist unfolded the record, silently read its contents, and returned the report to his clerk. Facing the defendant and his attorney, the jurist said solemnly,

The defendant will rise.

After the judge’s proclamation, his aide read the jury’s verdict:

In the matter of Taylor Ziller, charged with the crime of premeditated homicide, we, the jury, find the defendant guilty.

Sighs of relief accompanied a smattering of whispers that filled the courtroom. The jurist casts a stone-cold stare over of the gallery as he grasped his solid oak gavel, ready to silence any outburst; there was none. A poker-faced Taylor Ziller, now a convicted felon, put his face in his hands and began to sob softly; he anticipated he might be spending the rest of his life in prison. Ziller’s defense attorney, Harper Gladding, grimaced at the verdict, turned toward his client and said,

I’m sorry, Taylor; I did the best I could do under the circumstances, but Captain Michaels’ testimony was overwhelming; his attention to detail was as formidable as a Navy crew prepping for a storm. I could ask the judge to poll the jurors, but the foreman has already declared the decision was unanimous, so that point is useless. The only thing I can do now is to review the transcripts and see if I can find enough evidence for an appeal. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll find convincing evidence of any flaws, but I’ll look.

Looking down from his bench and peering through his trifocals, Judge McCarthy watched the exchange between Gladding and his client. When the conversation seemed to lull, the judge said,

I’m scheduling the sentencing for September 17th at 10:00 am. In the meantime, Mr. Ziller will be the guest of the County Jailer. This court adjourned.

At the judge’s announcement, murmuring began to slowly build into intensified chatter as spectators began to file out of the courtroom slowly. Two deputy sheriffs approached Ziller, placed stainless steel handcuffs on his wrists, and escorted him out of the courtroom. The deputies led their prisoner down a hallway that adjoined the courtroom to a courthouse exit, that was located directly across the alley from a convict’s entrance to the county jail, located as it was for occasions such as this one.

In the meantime, Captain James Michaels rose from his chair from behind Prosecutor Shawn Schraff, walked to the attorney’s desk, and putting his left hand on Scruff’s right shoulder, he reached out to the prosecutor with his extended right hand, and said,

Congratulations, Shawn, that was an excellent piece of work ya did in laying out the case for the jury. I had to believe they’d return a guilty verdict, but I would’ve guessed they would have reached their decision sooner.

Shawn Schraff looked up from his dark brown Coach calf-skin briefcase that he was filling with his case documents. He considered the smile of Captain Michaels and grasped the extended hand as he stood, holding on to the captain as fraternal acquaintances are sometimes wont to do.

Thanks, Jim, but ya can never tell about a jury. Sometimes, underlying circumstances or emotions get in the way of clear thinking.

The prosecutor hesitated momentarily in his thought process to garner an example he wanted to use.

"Do you remember the jury room scene from the movie Twelve Angry Men? A member of the jury steadfastly refused to agree with the other eleven jurors. Then he went into a rage about some nonsense that had nothing to do with that trial or the jury’s deliberations. The guy had unrelated issues that colored his decision in the criminal trial the jury was deliberating. My point is – you just can’t know what’s hiding in the conscience of some jurors. Besides, you’re the one who made my job easy, dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s with your testimony. I should