Night of the Owl

(Owl illustration by Carl Morgans)

Nick Terry had been a beat cop for some five years before making detective. Turns out he was the youngest cop to ever earn his gold shield on the Yorktown PD. A move that impressed both his father and his grandfather, both of whom were also on the Yorktown PD.

As a third-generation cop, Nick had a unique perspective of the criminal element in Yorktown. As a beat cop, he had seen his share of violence and mayhem perpetuated by the criminal element. He had witnessed all sorts of atrocities, and his once-naive outlook on life had soured him far beyond his years.

Given the long linage of law enforcement in his personal family history, he knew that adherence to the law was the tie that binds society together. He wasn’t just a first responder; he was the last line of defense. Unfortunately, he most often saw citizens on their worst day, and always saw that it was his job to make it better.

Unfortunately, he often felt that he was swimming uphill against the tide.

The criminals were organized and — much to his chagrin — it seemed as if there were more cops on the pad than on the force; which (as one could well imagine) annoyed him to no end. It was bad enough that the criminals were organized, it was worse that the people who were entrusted with the protection of the civilians were actually protecting the crooks who were tasked with trying to stop.

Detective Nick Terry was not a happy man.

He had just broken a major case and brought down the head of a major crime syndicate, only to watch a high-priced lawyer get him off the hook and put the mobster back on the street. The mobster was smiling as he left court.

And there was nothing that Detective Nick Terry could do about it. As Nick and the DA watched the newly freed mob boss walk down the courthouse steps to his waiting car the DA shook his head and said, “Hell of a way to start off the new year.”

“Yea, 1940 is off to a bad start.” Nick replied.

“Sorry about the verdict, Nick, you built a hell of a case.”

“Don’t worry, Jack, you can’t force a jury to do the right thing.”

The two men shook hands and Nick returned to the station house. Sadly, the fledgling detective’s disappointment was far greater than he had revealed.

Nick wanted to quit the force. His captain convinced him to take a few days off to think about it, so Detective Terry agreed, and headed out to spend the weekend at his grandfather’s farm just outside the city. The sun was beginning to set as he pulled up the long dirt driveway towards the large Victorian main house, he could see his father with the dogs out front. The house towered above the property from the crest of a small hillock.

Nick could hear the gravel crunching under his tires as he pulled up the long driveway. He could see his grandfather sitting in his rocker on the front porch. Pulling up to the front of the house Nick parked, got out and headed towards the house. He didn’t get more than halfway when a rather large Pitbull nearly bowled him over.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! How you doing there Henry boy?” Nick vigorously rubbed the big dog’s head in greeting getting him to settle down, however, as soon as the dog had all four paws back on the ground, when the second dog, a black Lab also jumped up on him. “Bella! I knew you couldn’t be far behind. How you doing, girl?”

Once he had properly greeted both dogs, he walked over to his father. “How you, Pop?”

“Doin’ well, Nick,” his father responded as he embraced his son.

Accompanied by the dogs, the two men walked up to the porch. “Hey’ya GranPop.”

“Hey Nick. Heard about the Mazzuchelli Case. Tough break son.”

Kissing his grandfather on the cheek, Nick responded. “Yea, tough break.”

“Thinking of quitin’ are you?” His grandfather asked.

“That obvious?”

“You wouldn’t be the first cop to reassess priorities after losing a big case. Don’t worry son, you’ll get it back.”

“We’ll see. Where’s Mom and Gram?”

“Inside, making dinner.”

Looking towards the front door, Nick said, “Think I’ll go help.”

As he started towards the door, his grandfather grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him in close. Nick looked directly into his grandfather’s eyes. “You’re a good cop, Nick, and a better detective. Don’t let it get to you.”

Nick nodded to his grandfather and then made his way into the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen, he greeted both women who then proceeded to fuss over him. After the meal, Nick and his father headed out to the barn.

Once they were alone, Nick’s father turned the conversation to the Mazzuchelli case. “So, the big fish got away, eh?”

“Now Pop…”

“Easy there, son. I’m on your side, remember? I lost a couple of big cases in my day as well.”

Nick looked at his father. “Damn lawyers…”

“Nick. Son. You know I took early retirement because I could no longer stand the old boy network that allowed criminals to get off scott free while the citizens of Yorktown suffer.”

“So, you walked away? Why can’t I then?”

“Because you’re made of sterner stuff, Son.”

Nick looked quizzically at his father. “What do you mean by that?”

“You made Detective by 25. You’re the youngest detective on the force. You’ve only been a detective for a year, and you’ve already racked up an impressive arrest record. So, one got away, you’ll get ‘em back.”

“So you say. I’m not so sure.”

“I am.”

Both men turned around to see the senior Mr. Terry as he entered the barn walking slowly, leaning heavily on his cane.

“What do you mean by that, GranPop?”

“Well, it’s a rather well-known fact that criminals are – generally speaking – a cowardly lot. So, it’s a sure bet that they aren’t very smart either. Eventually he’ll screw up, and you’ll be able to get him then.

Nick smiled at the elder man. “I wish I had your optimism.”

Just then they heard a low, guttural, raspy sound. “What’s that?” Nick asked, looking around.

Motioning to the upper reaches of the barn, Nick’s Grandfather said, “That’s him.”

Looking in the direction indicated, Nick saw a majestic Barn Owl perched on an upper strut of the barn. Suddenly the Owl silently took flight, swooping down to the floor of the barn the owl grabbed up a rodent that was skittering across the floor. Snagging the scurrying creature, the owl then executed a 180 degree turn in the air and returned to its roost, where it proceeded to devour the rat.

“Zeus helps keep the barn and the yard free of the vermin that would surely overrun us if he weren’t around.” GranPop stated, then looking over at his grandson he said, “That’s the lesson here, Nick.”

“What’s that, GranPop?”

The elder Terry looked directly at his grandson and said, “It takes an Owl to keep the vermin at bay.”

Nick looked back up at Zeus as the winged creature regurgitated the bones of the rat it had just devoured.

“Hurm, an owl, eh? You just might have something there, GranPop.”

**********

At the close of the weekend, Nick headed home, the lesson of the owl still reverberating in his head. Upon reaching his home he turned on the TV. As it happened the local news was on and the announcer was talking about the masked Mystery Man that were on the rise across the country. Men like The Clock, Airman, The Masked Marvel, Fantom of the Fair, and others.

Getting up and looking into a mirror, Nick said to himself. “Well, Yorktown, it looks like its time for you to get your own masked mystery Man.

Six months later, in July, the masked vigilante The Owl made his first appearance on the streets of Yorktown as he broke up a jewelry store robbery in progress.

The Beginning!