Stone has a fateful run-in with law enforcement that changes his life in this new series from Dixon!

How Stone Got Into Law Enforcement - Part 1
by Dixon
Series: How Stone Got Into Law Enforcement

Stone paid his tab and found his car in the dirt lot next to the local watering hole. He had decided to put in another 75 to 100 miles before finding a cheap motel for the night. He didn’t have to be in Raleigh until that weekend, but had decided this little crossroad town didn’t have anything worth hanging around for.

He felt a little buzz from the beers he had gulped down, but wasn’t mellow enough to not check his rear view mirror as he backed out of his spot. No one had followed him out of the joint, so he didn’t think he had to be on guard. Travelling alone, he didn’t take chances of being spotted by guys with time on their hands who might want to mess with him. He never showed his wallet, but always slipped a twenty in his pants pocket before going into any strange bars. He was pretty savvy, and the rural towns he had been clipping through all afternoon didn’t seem to be centers of any gangs or deviant activity.

He wasn’t thinking about that as he passed the town limit sign. He was thinking about some of the really neat places he had discovered travelling the back roads. He had met a few guys he wouldn’t mind hanging with, and had noticed more than a few watching him closely. He wasn’t naïve about the signals men give when they’re sizing up the competition, or the signals guys give when they’re interested in something up close and personal.

He also wasn’t thinking about speed limits. The blue light illuminating the dusk sky made him realize he was cruising near 70, so he got ready to lose some points and some hard cash.

The local policeman approached the car and asked for the usual ID and registration. Stone obliged with a civil greeting, but no excuses. The officer looked over the registration, the license and then asked Stone to get out of the car.

“Any problem, officer?” Stone asked.

“You been drinking?”

“Had a few beers back down the road, but I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“How many is a few?”

“Three, maybe four.”

The officer put Stone through a primitive drill of walking down the line in the road, and then standing on one foot and touching his nose. Stone handled the exercise without protest, confident his equilibrium was fine.

“Want me to recite the alphabet or try some tongue twister?”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Sorry, sir. I just think this is kind of silly when I’m not drunk. I admit I was speeding, but I wasn’t any danger to anyone.”

The officer concluded Stone better follow him back to the station to pay his fine and settle up. He was extra cautious not to weave or do anything the officer could consider reckless on the short trip back into the lazy town. He hopped out of the car and followed the officer into the small brick building, eager to pay his ticket and get out of town.

A second officer looked up from his desk when Stone and the other officer walked in. Without any conversation, he got up and walked over to a file cabinet and grabbed a ring of keys.

“Whatcha got here, Darrell?”

“Speeding, and DUI.”

Stone couldn’t’ believe his ears. “DUI?” he blurted out. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

The second officer smirked, clearly looking like he knew a DUI charge was a sham, and he would personally profit from any fines Stone had to pay. He rose from his desk, moving between Stone and the door, his hands on his shoulder. He stood an inch or so taller than Stone, and was about his weight. Stone wasn’t intimidated, but realized it was two on one and he needed to regroup.

“Excuse me, sir, but can you give me a breath test or something to prove I’m not drunk?”

“Here’s the deal, buddy. You get free accommodations for the night to sleep off your beer, and tomorrow we’ll schedule a hearing with the local magistrate. Behave yourself and you can probably get by with the minimum speeding ticket.”

“You said deal. What are my other options?”

“You can be charged with DUI right now, and spend 30 days with us friendly folks.”

Stone suddenly realized he was in a speed trap, or one of those small town jurisdictions where the local law enforcement enjoyed wielding their authority over random victims. These two cops probably have a quota of tickets they must issue every month to raise the revenue for their salaries. He also realized he didn’t have any leverage. His only recourse would be to make a break for it, and that wasn’t very wise. He decided the free room and board was the best option he had at the moment.

“Guess I’d like you guys to show me my quarters.”

The arresting officer pointed to a doorway, following Stone into the cells. At least they didn’t have one big holding cell where he’d be thrown in with whatever riff raff they’d preyed on to meet their quota. Holding cells were usually wall to wall bars with no privacy. No privacy meant staying awake as long as possible, guarding your backside.

This little speed trap had four cells, two on each side of a hallway. They looked pretty typical with bunk beds, a sink and a toilet, and one small bookcase with a couple of old magazines. There were three towels stacked on the bookcase, plus a bar of soap, a wash cloth, and toothpaste and toothbrush. For a municipal motel it could be a lot worse.

He slipped out of his shoes and plopped back on the bottom bunk, cursing himself for getting into this mess. He fell asleep hoping he’d have a hearing with the magistrate early and get out of this hole as fast as possible.


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