“This is Kelley Rains with KDFD Evening News for the Bay and I’m here at the 40^th Annual Policeman’s Ball,” came the voice of a woman in a generic suit on the TV. 

                I looked over from where I sat on the couch, ice pack held to my skull with a couple tendrils.  My teacher’s infodumps left a hell of a headache.  Yes, I still had a damn headache the next night.  “Didn’t Zothie say he was going to some kind of police event yesterday?”

                “He called it a rally,” Michelle said from my kitchen where she was making tea.  “I haven’t gotten his food request for today, yet.  Which is unusual.”

                “Does a ball count as a rally,” I asked aloud as I turned my attention to the television that took up a good part of one wall. 

                The reporter was still talking.  “… after many protests against various departments, many of the officers and their plus ones are here to enjoy a night of dancing and the annual awards ceremony.  Officers from partner cities are covering the Bay tonight as our own boys and girls in blue gather to have some much needed fun.”

                The camera panned from her to show a line of men in dress uniforms and women in formal dresses waiting to get past the security guards on the door.  The fact that the security team looked to be in better shape than the cops on average made me roll my eyes. 

                “We’ll be checking in later for live coverage of the awards segment,” Kelley Rains said in a voice that was full of fake enthusiasm.  Her eyes clearly said she’d drawn the short straw for the night.  The regular news took over to tell us about the weather, other local and national news, and a promo for an upcoming investigative piece. 

                It was boring.

                However, that was soon not the case.

                Kelley came back on, now standing in the press pit at the rear of the room with her camera man, talking a bit softer.  “Now that everyone’s seated, they’re getting ready to announce the officer of the year.  Oh, here’s Chief Michael Sharn, tonight’s master of ceremonies.”

                A man past middle age but not quite retirement age took the podium as the camera man zoomed in on his face.  He looked like something had spooked him, but he was trying to stay cool.  A rare look for police chief. “Thank you all for attending tonight.  We’ve all found our seats and I can’t tell you how proud I am to be up here representing all our precincts tonight.”

                He went on and on about the struggles of the job, how wonderful his people were, typical stuff.  Then a flash of light from above and his eyes looked different.  With the camera zoomed in on him, there was a subtle black shine to his gaze as he looked over the crowd.  “And next up, a man who’s so far evaded punishment for the slaughter of five people, plus an unborn child.  Tonight, the Officer’s Choice Award winner.  Let’s watch the video their precinct sent us.”

                The room went silent, the reporter was silent, and the Chief stood up there, looking confused.  “I- uh- I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant to say.”

                I watched him struggle with what had to be Zothie messing with his mind and grinned viciously.  Hiding a killer is almost as bad as allowing one.  The Chief went on, “I meant to say…” his face scrunched up as he struggled with his note cards.  “He evaded six charges of overt force this year- no, he was recognized for helping-no, I- he’s a great- pathetic excuse…”

                Two other officers, both tall men in dress uniforms, moved to the podium, one switching off the mic as they tried to coax the chief away.  The chief’s eyes were wide and scared before they rolled back in his head.  The chief collapsed and his deputy chief rushed up to take his place as the first two officers carry the chief off.  Probably to somewhere with medics.

                The deputy chief, who we hadn’t come across dirt on yet, took the podium.  Her eyes were clear, concerned but clear.  “Sorry about that, looks like Chief Sharn might have hit the bar a little early.  Now, we’ve got a video put together by the precinct of the Officer of the Year.  Let’s get that rolling, please.”

                The reporter looked a bit rattled when the camera went back to her for a moment before the feed cut over to the video.  It showed clips from the precinct of the officer that had somehow won the approval of his peers.  Interviews in video sang his praises as a hard-working officer, good in a crisis and dependable in extremis before revealing that it was none other than the second officer who’d harmed Tanya May.  He’d helped hurt the poor woman so badly she’s lost her pregnancy.

                Apparently, Zothie had decided was the time to get the second half of our promised vengeance for Tanya.  The department had already thrown his partner, Dunham, under the bus for the whole thing.

                My eyes narrowed as the video ended and the cameras cut back to the deputy chief as she came to the podium.  “And without further ado, the winner of this years Officer’s Choice Award, Sergeant James O’Brien!”

                The man who walked up to the podium was, I had to admit, a handsome one in great shape, moving like a well oiled machine to shake the deputy chief’s hand.  She gave him smile then stepped back from the podium so he could make his acceptance speech. 

                O’Brien’s speech started off in a typical fashion, thanking his peer for the honor and calling a shout out to his obviously pregnant wife in the audience.  I felt Zothie’s attention shift to her and screamed at him across the distance between us to leave her alone.  As far as we knew, she was an innocent and just as likely a victim of abuse, if the statistics I’d seen were to be believed.  I felt him refocus on the cop with an anticipatory snap. 

                “I’ve been with the Oakland PD for ten years now and I… um… I…” O’Brien sputtered for a moment, eyes widening.  “I helped a lot, to hurt a lot- to I… fuck… sorry I’m just so moved.  I don’t- I don’t deserve this… stop… I didn’t….”

                He cut off, hands going to his face, fingers digging into his temple as if that would stop some sudden pain there.  He took a deep breath, hands still over his face as he started speaking again.  “I have to- he says I have to- they, sorry, they said I have to tell you.  God, Peggy, I’m sorry- I have to.”

                A cut to the wife looking puzzled and starting to stand from her seat then back to O’Brien who just kept talking, even though other officers were moving up to him.  “I don’t deserver this honor- you guys, you know how it is.  You know what we all do, what we all get into, those little tricks on E14.  They’re so easy, we all fuck them….”

                O’Brien gasped to a stop, hands slipping from his face to grip the podium.  Bloodied fingers leaving smears across the warm walnut finish as he raised his face to the crowd.  To the officers that stopped ten feet away and couldn’t seem to move closer. To the cameras.  To the people watching the news, more than a few of them horrified.  More than a few vindicated.

                Scarlet ran down his face, flowing from his tear ducts and trickling from his nose, slowing only when he started talking again.  “They said I have to tell you- I fucked those whores.  I killed those people.  Internal Affairs let me go, they had others take the blame but it was me.  I shot first, so many times, because it was easier.  Because it took one of those low life fuckers off the street.  I kicked that woman first, not Dunham-“

                He let out a howl as smoke began to curl from his face and screamed, “Tanya, her baby, that’s the one I kicked!  I told her terrible terrible terrible terribleterribleterrible things things things thingsthingthingings....”

                O’Brien collapsed to the ground, body twitching as if he was being electrocuted.  The room was silent until his wife let out a howl of her own and rushed to him.  The noise broke the stasis holding the room and the officers that had been moving toward O’Brien finished their actions, kneeling next to him, shouting for a medic.  The camera cut away from the room and back to the report who looked ghastly under her spray tan.  The camera bobbed as if the operator was trying to get the reporter to say something, anything.

                “I- oh god,” she sputtered before taking a deep breath, straightening her spine and looking straight into the camera, mic at the ready.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m not quite sure what’s going on here; but it looks like Sergeant O’Brien is having some kind of a seizure.  I’ll try to get more information and let you know as soon as we do.  This is Kelley Rains with KDFD Evening News for the Bay, now back to you in the studio.”

                The crew in the studio, having had a moment more to compose themselves, were on the ball in a typical talking head fashion.  I ignored them as my phone let out a chime.

                Across the screen, white text on a black background I saw a group text from Zothie to Tanya, her mother Rachel and myself with three little words.

                “Justice is started.”