For the Greater Good

By Mary Gant Bell

Justice. Law. Fairness. What do those words convey? Their definitions became more fluid with each passing year. By the year 2027, society stopped trying to form a consensus regarding their meanings.
With little concern for these terms, six strangers fell victim to their application. They were simply people, focused on climbing their individual ladders. Sam wanted a promotion. Maureen desired a new home. George craved a peaceful household, and Ella strive to right the wrongs of her past. Harvey’s goal was a memorable birthday celebration for his wife. And the only thing Wanda wanted was to gain favor in her father’s eyes. They wanted ordinary things. But they were each willing to go to extraordinary lengths to achieve their goals.
What they got instead of success was the long arm of the law. These six were strangers until becoming acquainted through the bars of their jail cells. Why, you ask? Because concepts like justice, law, and fairness dissolved into history. A history that had long since been removed from textbooks and libraries.
Can they overcome the new definitions of the laws to reclaim their lives? Will these strangers turn into friends, enemies, or collaborators? How will their newfound relationships impact their futures, and more importantly, society as a whole?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781716078460

Book preview

For The

Greater

Good

by

Mary Gant Bell

ISBN: 978-1-716-07846-0

Imprint: Lulu.com

Copyright @ 2020 by MGB Publications

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Printed: 2020

MGB Publications, Houston, Texas

Contact the Author:  [e-mail]

Cover Design: Mary Gant Bell

Cover Image: Carles Rabada from unsplash.com

Author headshot: Alicia Ann Nelson, Fresno, CA

Special discounts are available on quality purchase by corporations, associations, educators, churches, and others. For details, contact the publisher at [e-mail].

To schedule the author to speak at your event, book club, or church, please send your request to [e-mail].

Please Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Dedicated

to change and

the people who

make it happen

For The

Greater

Good

Prologue

People.

Patterns.

Protection.

Problems.

At one point in history, the cart followed the horse. But times change and societies evolve. The priorities of one generation become the brunt of jokes to the next. The cart is no longer attached to the horse.

I was raised by boisterous, talkative people. Men who enjoyed telling a story, sharing their experiences with anyone who would listen. My grandfather was called Sherriff. Pretty much everyone who carried a gun answered to that title in those days. Crime remained low because consequences were high. Few jail cells existed back then. The only thing on the other side of the law was a rectangular hole six feet deep. And everyone knew it.

Things changed by the time my father joined the police. In his day, they answered to the title of law enforcement. His stories suggested that label was because they imposed penalties on individuals who actually broke the laws. The crime rate rose dramatically in those years, along with the number of lawyers. The more creative your defense team was, the consequences for your actions were diminished. Anyone with enough money hired an attorney who knew how to bend those laws, allowing criminals to glide away from the court house.

With the parade of criminals sauntering out of police custody, corruption ran rampant. As the crime rates rose, so did the number of murders. Bullet sales soared. Honest citizens couldn’t find ropes anywhere as they were the poor man’s bullets. Those who couldn’t afford guns, killed people by strangulation. Every level of society found ways to take the law into their own hands because the courts had forfeited their powers. Police ran out of time to answer calls for robbery or simple traffic violations. Murders consumed their time. Killings, and the paperwork they generated.

By the time I took my oath, the world had taken on an entirely new personality. People got tired of living in fear that some drug-infested crazy person would murder them before they made it home from work. Protestors, businessmen, and housewives demanded change. Stop the murders, they cried. Put an end to fear, they screamed. Eliminating the anarchy consumed their every waking moment. They even got the school kids to wave posters and deface buildings for their cause. Destruction became part of the physical education curriculum.

And so the murders ended. Stopped rather abruptly from my perspective. One day we arrested criminals. A blink of the eye later, we incarcerated law-abiding citizens. Why, you ask? Because the law makers didn’t stop to think it through. Those unintended consequences bit them in the you know what. They never realized that the cart wouldn’t move unless it was attached to the horse.

Now, I’m not the sharpest quill in the bird, but I know what two plus two equals. And it’s clear to me that the way they solved the murder problem wasn’t what they intended.

No, passing those new laws definitely did not create the world they wanted. Not by a long shot.

What am I talking about? You think our society is amazing and perfect? Let me tell you a few stories about some ordinary folks. And then we’ll talk about it again. I’m not called law enforcement like my daddy was. Not since those new laws passed. They call us Protection Agents. My duty changed from enforcing the law to protecting it. That’s right. Authorities no longer serve the people, the amazing and diverse population that calls this nation home. Today the focus has shifted to the procedure, not the individuals, and the process of protecting the law itself.

Today, in this year 2027, the horse is not only detached from the cart. The horse is dead.

My granddaddy and daddy taught me how to tell a story. Except their stories were about people. Those days are gone. Now the things repeated explain the process, the purpose. Individuals play no part in defending, or defining, society and its structure. I share these examples with you. Hopefully, you and your descendants can learn from them. Use the errors of the past to prevent problems in the future. And if you glean nothing from my tales, at the very least, learn to think about the consequences before promoting a change.

Actions, not intentions, are what have consequences.

Or at least that’s how it used to be.

Cell 517

The sun cooked the minivan like a marshmallow over a campfire. Sam started the engine as his wife, Kelly, secured the strap on Timothy’s car seat. At two years old, his ability to get out of the contraption far exceeded his desire to get in. Sam adjusted the vents as Kelly kissed their son and joined him in the front seat.

I’m sorry, babe. I should’ve started this earlier, Sam said, wiping his brow.

We won’t be the only ones in church dripping from the heat. It’s only 7:45 in the morning. And it’s June. Just think what it’s going to be like in August. Kelly glanced over her shoulder one last time before locking her seatbelt. I think we got everything.

I forgot my necktie. Do you think I can get away with an open collar? Sam shifted into reverse, assuming his wife would agree.

You can start a new summer trend. Kelly searched through the diaper bag for a moist towelette. Honestly, I don’t see why not. No one said a word when I stopped wearing panty hose to Sunday services.

Sam waved at his neighbor as he maneuvered the minivan onto the street. When was the last time we invited the Connor’s to church with us?

By ‘we’ you really mean me? Kelly dabbed the sweat from her neck. I had coffee with Carol the other day, but it didn’t come up. I don’t want to be too pushy.

I know. They see us leave every week. How many times can we remind them they’re welcome before it becomes overbearing?

Bear! Timothy yelled from the back seat.

Mom! He took my bear again! Make him stop!

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and wondered again how their daughter had learned to screech like that. Tabitha, remember how we talked about sharing?

How come I have to share but he doesn’t? Tabitha whined.

Because you’re four and that’s old enough to know about kindness. Timmy’s only two, Sam said, parking in the church lot.

When he’s four, I won’t have to share anymore? Tabitha tried again to retrieve her teddy bear from her brother.

Sam smiled at his wife as he turned off the engine. Since the bear stays in the car during church, there’s no reason to argue about it now. Let’s go, troops.

When do I get to go to big people church? Tabitha asked.

I thought you loved the children’s room. Sam lifted his daughter to the ground as Kelly settled Timothy on her hip.

Tabitha’s answer was lost in the sea of parishioners. Sam’s thoughts drifted to synchronized swimmers as the other families emerge from their vehicles. Funny how the same people arrived precisely at 8:00 am just like they did each week. He and Kelly talked about getting up earlier so they could leave on time. Logic suggested that would make them arrive earlier, too. But the practiced conflicted with their habit of hitting the snooze alarm one more time. So here they were, once again. Eight o’clock on the dot, doing the coordinated car-exiting dance before swimming to the sanctuary.

Once inside, their routine continued. Kelly veered toward the toddler room with Timothy on her hip while Sam tugged Tabitha to her Young Sprouts center. The welcoming worship music poured through the open doors of the sanctuary. These doors would be closed by the time he checked his daughter into her room.

Was this a metaphor for his life? Passing up opened doors only to return once they were closed? Feeling guilty for asking for that the once-welcoming entrance be reopened for him again? Wondering what would have been different if he’d walked in the first time?

Sam smiled at the other harried parents leaving the line. Tabitha tugged at his hand, but he ignored her. He didn’t have time to argue this morning. Nor did he possess the patience to explain how the world didn’t make sense to his inquisitive four-year-old. She was far too observant. Even though Sam considered himself an intelligent and educated man, he seldom had the answers she expected.

How can I teach my children to not pass the doors that God opens to them?

Sam’s thoughts were interrupted by the perky brunette at the check in counter. He should remember her name, but he didn’t. After kissing his daughter good-bye, Sam reminded himself to ask Kelly when they last made a donation to the children’s program. Since half of his household used it every week, it was only right that he contributed.

Sam shook hands with several men as he weaved through the crowd. In his younger days, he’d scorned the practice of sitting in the same place week after week. Now, he understood. If his Sunday morning ritual shifted one tiny degree, he’d spend the next five days searching for his wife. Since she danced to his music, he knew precisely where to find her. Enter through the door closest to Timothy’s child care room. Walk three rows down and five seats to the right. That’s where he found Kelly every Sunday morning at 8:09 am. As if his arrival had cued the band, the music director signaled the congregation to sing the morning’s second song. Its lyrics displayed boldly on the seven monitors surrounding the room.

§

The music team continue to entertain the crowd as Sam and Kelly began their backstrokes, repeating their arrival routine in reverse. Sam wondered what people would say if he literally walked backwards to the Young Sprouts room, retrieved his daughter, kissed her hello, and continued backwards to his car.

Once his family was safely settled in the car and Kelly had wiped the perspiration from her brow, Sam asked, What did you think of the sermon?

Since that question was expected, Kelly had her answer prepared. It was definitely thought provoking. Something I wonder about all the time. We even talked about it on the way here. About inviting the Connors to church with us. Did I not mention it to Carol because I didn’t want to be pushy or because I wasn’t standing up for my faith?

The pastor gave several good examples of how Jesus stood his ground. But it’s so easy for my denial system to dismiss their application to my own life, Sam said, advancing through the stoplight. I mean, what if I speak up at the office and get fired? Does God really want me to put our family at risk like that?

Risk is the last thing our family needs right now, Kelly snorted. "If I was as bold as Jesus when I’m at Tabitha’s preschool, she’d be expelled for sure. They are all about inclusiveness and respect for the beliefs and feelings of others."

Yet somehow their definition of ‘others’ doesn’t include Christians.

You got that right, Kelly said, glancing in the back seat. The teddy bear rested undisturbed against Tabitha’s chest because both kids were asleep. Her preschool room has a Muslim prayer mat and Koran in the corner, but the Bible and rosary beads are forbidden. I wonder if sharing the Christian faith was as taboo in our parents’ generation as it is now?

I seriously doubt they had Muslim prayer mats in their preschool rooms. We can ask them tonight. They’re coming over for dinner. Sam opened the garage door and felt his wife’s glare burning his right cheek.

And you were going to tell me this when?

Did you have other plans? Sam pulled into the garage and turned the key.

No. But if I had known they were coming today, I wouldn’t have invited Renee and her family over for lunch.

Sam poked his daughter awake while Kelly gathered her purse and diaper bag. If you had told me they were coming for lunch, I would’ve pushed my parents to next weekend.

I did tell you, Kelly whispered as she lifted Timmy from his car seat.

Since Tabitha was managing on her own two feet, Sam took his son from Kelly’s arms. I’ll put him in his crib. He’ll get plenty of exercise later.

Good idea. Kelly dropped her purse and diaper bag on the kitchen counter. Renee’s family is laid back. They’re easy. And you and Dillon get along well. Lunch will be a breeze.

Sam carried Timothy to his room while Kelly changed her clothes. He joined her in the master bedroom after checking that Tabitha’s choice of cartoons didn’t violate their household rules. "We should get one of