Free Senile Squad: Adventures of the Old Blues by Chris LeGrow

age.
    He looked down to his much shorter companion and said, “Tiny, how did you know this guy Clubba was so bad? I heard you were on to him before we even formed the Ol’ Blue Unit.”
    Tiny shrugged his shoulders and said, “All my life I’ve had to quickly pick out the bullies at school, in my neighborhood, wherever I was. Being as small as I was, they always came after me. I guess I got good at it. Once I became a cop, it was easy to see what other cops couldn’t. I spent my whole career riding guys like this Clubba, I always like to keep them focused on me. That always distracted them from the schemes they were working, then they would make mistakes and I’d nail ’em. I’ve been trackin’ this Clubba for a couple of months. Now he knows who I am, and I’m going to make him focus on me. This whistling tooth seemed to catch his attention, I think I’ll use it to ride this bully, Mr. Clubba.”

DOUGLAS COUNTY ATTORNEY BILL KYLE WASN’T IN THE mood for a jury trial. With ten years in the prosecutor’s office, he never tired of putting criminals behind bars, but this case was hardly worth wasting his breath on. Te’quan Yates Koak was a neighborhood celebrity as the calls flooding his office indicated, but these charges were minor felonies at best. If the deal was good enough, his defense attorney would plead it out. The question was how good was good enough?
    “Hey.” Detective John Spears of the Domestic Violence unit popped into Kyle’s overstuffed office and settled his lanky frame into a wooden captain’s chair. “You ever read those things,” he said with a nod at the thick Nebraska penal code books lining his east wall.
    “Of course,” Kyle said with a slight smile. “But not as often as I used to.”
    “Know what you mean,” Spears said. “So what are you doing with that Clubba character?”
    “You’re about the tenth person to stop by in the past month asking the same question. Probation probably,” Kyle said.
    “You know he laid hands on that girl, right? Shanese?”
    “Yeah,” Kyle said softly. “I know.”
    “The problem is dealing with the Sudanese community in general. It’s next to impossible to get any information from anyone, even if they wanted to talk with us, which they don’t. Most are terrified of any government agents, let alone ones that carry guns.”
    “So I’ve heard,” Kyle said. “You’re not the first to explain this to me. I know the cultural differences are striking, and there’s a lack of education and fear of being surrounded by so many white folks. I’d probably stay in my little community too.”
    “It’s a problem all the way around. Some in the community smile and wave but never a word to us directly. There’s just no conversation with the group, and without that, we’re totally ineffective,” Spears said.
    “I’ve heard,” Kyle said with a bit of good humor, “that they all share the same birthday.”
    Spears chuckled. “They don’t keep track of those things, so when they arrived, no one knew exactly how old they were. The majority took the birthdate of January 1 coupled with the year estimated. New Year’s Day is always hopping with everyone celebrating and parties all over the city.”
    “Seriously though, Bill.” Spears met Kyle’s gaze directly. “This Clubba reinforces the perception that the American police can’t be trusted. Plus, everyone in the community owes him for helping them. I’m not sure if it’s intimidation or admiration, but nobody speaks against Clubba. Ever.”
    “So I’ve been told.”
    “These girls coming forward—it never happens,” Spears said, plopping his feet on the corner of Kyle’s desk. “If we don’t put this thug away for as long as possible, we’ll lose total credibility in the neighborhood. They’re risking their lives.”
    “How do you figure that?” Kyle asked and grabbed a manila folder off his file cabinet.
    “This guy controls every freaking Sudanese in the city,”