Page 137 of Things We Hide from the Light
“It was a judgment call. I’ll tell you the same thing I told them. Dilton was my responsibility. It happened on my watch. Husband was more understanding than he needed to be. The wife was understandably less so. But we talked it out. I apologized profusely and took full responsibility.”
“Solicitor’s gonna love that,” Hilly said.
“Yeah, well. Sometimes sayin’ you’re sorry is more important than coverin’ your ass. Either way, it was the right thing to do. Mrs. Kennedy called me back yesterday and gave me the contact info of a training organization that works with departments on de-escalation and diversity training. Expensive, but in my opinion, necessary. And cheaper than the lawsuit we’d settle.”
“How much are we talkin’?”
I nodded toward the car where Piper’s head was hanging out the driver’s side window. “Let’s just say that’s gonna be the only K-9 officer we can afford for a while.”
She shook her head. “Fuckin’ Dilton. One bad cop is all it takes.”
“I know. It’s one hundred percent my fault for keepin’ him on. For thinkin’ I could change him.”
She put her hands on her hips and stared out through the forest. “Yeah, well, now you know how it feels to be a woman in love with a dumbass with potential. Ninety-nine percent of the time, that potential never gets realized.”
“Mickey have potential?” I teased.
Her smirk was quick. “Hell yeah, he did. And I didn’t give him a choice about the realizing part of it.”
“Been thinking,” I began.
“Anytime an official says that, things are about to get expensive.”
“Not necessarily. Since we’re already adding on some education, what would you think of bringing in Social Services caseworkers to do a training for us?”
“What kind of training?”
“Mental health calls. You know Xandra Rempalski?”
She shot me a look that said I was tiptoeing into dumbass territory. “The nurse who saved my chief of police’s life? Nope. Never heard of her. Nor do I own four necklaces and three pairs of her earrings.”
“Okay. All right. Her nephew has autism.”
“Sure, yeah. I know Alex.”
“He’s nonverbal, six feet tall, and Black,” I said, rocking back on my heels.
Hilly blew out a sigh. “I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down. Moms with Black babies have a lot of conversations with those babies on how to interact with cops.”
“And I wanna make sure that we cops are having conversations on how to safely and respectfully interact with those babies. All of them. Especially the ones who can’t talk back. Doesn’t sit well with me that some of our people still don’t feel safe here. That’s exactly why I took this job, and I’ve still got a lot of learning and a lot of work to do.”
“Don’t we all, Chief? So how do we go about that?”
“I’d like to talk it over with Yolanda Suarez. She’s been a caseworker a long time and she’ll have some ideas. Right now, I’m thinking some kind of combination of ongoing department training and tag teaming mental health calls with social workers. Other departments in bigger cities have rolled out programs likethat and they’re seein’ results. Maybe we could bring Naomi Witt into it since she’s community outreach coordinator.”
“It’s a damn good idea.”
“I think so too.”
“Why don’t you set up a meet with you, me, and Yolanda first? Then we’ll go from there.”
“Appreciate it. Guess I’d better get your slithering roommate to his new home.”
Hilly shuddered. “Chief, after I’m done burning this place to the ground and murdering my husband, I’m putting you up for a raise.”
I paused. If there was one thing Hilly guarded with her life, it was Knockemout’s purse strings. “I wouldn’t feel right about that. Not with what’s gone down the past few months.”
She reached out and patted me on my cheek. “That’s exactly why you’re gettin’ one, son. You care. You take responsibility. And you create solutions. This town is lucky to have you. I’m damn proud of the man you’ve grown up to be.”
