A rusty old Jailbar
A call from the courthouse usually means more work for me. Often it means there’s a problem with one of my arrests that requires urgent paperwork. This time I was asked to come down because someone was at the Clerk of the Court and they wanted to see me. My shoes on the courthouse marble floors echoed and the man at the counter turned around. I found myself standing face to face with Tim Henderson. It had been 14 years since I’d seen him last, and although he had aged, I recognized him immediately. We had met twice before, the first was 2002, I was two years on the force, he was 18 year’s old and had just crashed a stolen car when I gave him a very short chase and crash tackled him. We wrestled for a bit as I tried to cuff him until I felt a sharp pain in my chest, I started to find it hard to breath and realized that he had stabbed me. I spent three weeks in hospital recovering from a collapsed lung.