by Rocky the Diabolical Cat™
The phone rang. I looked at the caller ID - it was Ikey.
I answered in my usual manner. "Greetings, esteemed comrades of the NSA! I hope the following conversation is of interest to you!"
Ikey laughed, then asked, "Did you see the article in the local Gannettoid* about the $950,000 settlement for the murder of John Leaf by that sheriff's deputy?"
"I sure did," I replied.
"About time we got some positive news in this backwater," Ikey squeaked. "Here's a cop who, according to court records, has a long history of abuse of power and criminal recklessness - pointing guns at people for no apparent reason, for example. Then he kills John Leaf. Oh, how I remember when the deputy and his wife were interviewed on the news to show that he was a good family man. Oh, how I remember how the Sheriff's Department tried to portray him as an all-American cop just doing his job. Oh, how I remember how they tried to portray John Leaf as a drunken maniac," Ikey squeaked ruefully. "I knew that deputy would get his!"
I took a sip of my espresso and said quietly, "Ahem ... my young protege, I hate to break it to you, but I don't think that the deputy exactly 'got his.'"
"What do you mean, Master Rocky?" he asked.
"According to my sources, the deputy is still on the job," I responded.
"Fuck me!** If he'd been a cashier at Village Pantry and got hungry and ate a stale submarine sandwich, he'd have been canned. But this deputy ... this character ... he still works for the department? He's still our employee?" Ikey screeched.
"That's right," I affirmed.
"How can that be?" he asked.
"My young protege, in a society in which authoritarianism is a fetish," I said, "there's job security to be had in law enforcement!"
*The Indianapolis Star - the eds.
**Here we go again with the vile cursing. Shame on you, Ikey! - the eds.