Breaks in the System

He set his wine glass down and ran his fingers through his hair. There was a bitter taste in his mouth that made his throat dry. He looked up at the ceiling of the office and closed his heavy eyes for a moment before refocusing his attention back on the shrink, who was leaning on his elbow smiling over at him. There was a mild humor that danced around on his face that the inspector couldn’t decide if he wanted to slap or laugh it off.

                “You did this on purpose,” the inspector slurred as he pointed his finger at the shrink.

                The shrink just responded with a sheepish grin.

                “We are fucked, you and I,” said the inspector as he leaned back in his chair. There was no way his body was going to support him sitting up strait again for a while.

                “Yup,” was the response.

                “So,” asked the inspector. He paused and his eyebrows met and he looked like he was focusing on the edge of the table. He then looking up at the shrink suddenly and asked, “Did we learn anything important? Anything that we can actually use?”

                “Well yes,” said the shrink plainly. “You need to get that judge to approve some medical testing. If we can show, in court, that the specimen has brain abnormalities that will leave him incapable of successfully functioning in society, then we will surely get him incarcerated for life. No question about it. All we have to do is keep that little shit from getting ahold of a lawyer.”

                “Do what?” asked the inspector.

                “That’s your job,” the shrink explained. “If you can keep him from seeing his lawyer for long enough, then we…”

                “Too late,” said the inspector. He didn’t make eye contact; he was busy starting down the empty bottle of sangria, whose contents had mysteriously disappeared.

                “Excuse you,” said the shrink.

                “I had to sign the paperwork authorizing a Bethany Rodgers, clearance to meet with her client,” said the inspector, still examining the empty bottle. “Dirty ho,” he said under his breath.

                The shrink slammed his fists on the table and stood up.

                “God damn it!” he yelled as he grabbed a stack of papers off his desk and threw them across the room. “You had one job!” he jabbed his finger at the intoxicated inspector.

                “Me!?” defended the inspector. “How is it my responsibility?! That’s the way the justice system works! You commit a crime, you get caught, you get a lawyer, and you get your case heard.”

                “I know that!” hollered the shrink. “But at least you could have given me more time!”

                “Since when is it my job to make sure to mediate the consequences of you feeling up the defendant anytime the mood strikes you!?” The inspector was somewhat on his feet now and red in the face.

                “I did what was necessary to get this maniac from killing more! Do you have any sympathy for those whose whole worlds came down around their ears because of this monster?” demanded the shrink.

                “Any idea!?” roared the inspector. “Was it you who had to go through confession after confession of people sharing with me how much of a great person this girl was? Did you have to tell the blind grandmother that her granddaughter had been slaughtered? Do you have to walk into your office every single fucking day and see the before and after shot of that girl hanging on your wall?! Do you have to spend every waking minute pouring yourself over this dick’s life and wonder to yourself what fucked up life that someone had to go through to get to this point? Do you dread what you’ll find because of the fear that his story may be even more heart wrenching than what you’re currently working on? Are you filled with this polarizing desire and fear of finding another victim?! We know he’s out there! How long will it be before I find another body?! What happens if we don’t!? This kid has parents out there looking for him. Not a clue that this lad is probably dead in a ditch somewhere.”

               The inspector was shaking, hands balled into fists. His face was totally red and he had tears streaming down his face. He glared at the shrink who stood quietly across the room looking him up and down.

                “Don’t you fucking judge me,” continued with inspector. “That’s all you do. You just sit up here in this office of yours doing whatever the hell you want! You just collect your data. Don’t talk to anyone. Keep your fucking nose in your books and when the mood strikes you, you go out and disrupt the system for your own gain! You don’t care about this case, that girl, or that poor man locked up down at the prison! You find it all fascinating and neat and it’s just a fucking picnic to you!” the inspector paused, looking the shrink up and down and spat on the office floor. “You stand there like you’re better than me: Stoic and regal, like there’s nothing in the world that could bring you down. I hope that lawyer fucks your shit up. You’d deserve it.”

                The shrink stood speechless as he watched the inspector hobble back out of the office. He fondled the door handle for a moment and turned back around and faced the shrink, “Why did you lock the door?”

                “The door isn’t locked,” the shrink replied calmly.

                “Oh,” said the inspector. “Ok.”

                He tried again and the large, wooden doors opened. The inspector smiled to himself and used all of the strength he had left in him to pull the doors apart, revealing the dark hallway beyond. The inspector yelled down the hall, “Who turned off all the light!? Where is everybody?”

                “They went home over three hours ago,” said the shrink calmly. “You’ve been in my office for over five hours.”

                The inspector turned around and asked, “What time is it?”
                “Half past twelve,” said the shrink.

                “Fuck you,” muttered the inspector. He then proceeded to bend over and threw up all over the office floor.