They All Fall Down

The squad room is filled wall to wall with fervid officers waiting to carry out their assigned tasks. This takedown will be the biggest in Berryville's history, and every officer, young and old, wants to be a part of this. Believing Romero and his men have been controlling the town for far too long.

There's nervous whispering among the rookies. Their adrenaline rises to an all-time high. They've been training to do this, and tonight, they'll have a chance to prove their worth.

"Everyone knows what their assignment is, correct?" The captain begins. The group nods. "I want you suited up and body cams on the entire time. Remember to follow protocol to a T. I want these arrests to stick. And I don't want any casualties. If you must use lethal force, shoot to injure, don't shoot to kill, and only then under sound judgment If you feel your life is at risk. Do I make myself clear?" Joe reminds them of this often since the courts, in all their infinite wisdom, have decided to stiffen the laws on deadly force.

"Yes, sir," the group says in unison."

 Does anyone have any questions?" Joe asks, glancing around the room. When no one answers, he continues, "Stay safe, guys, and remember to go by the book."

There's a lot of jabbering; chairs scrape the floor while others shuffle through the door.

"No shortcuts, guys," Joe warns over the commotion.

"What would you like for us to do, boss?" Jerry asks.

"You and Rachel are coming with me."

"And where's that?" the sergeant questions.

"We're going to visit the main man himself, Santiago Romero."

"I was hoping you'd leave Romero for us," Jerry smiles. He'd arrested the man a few years back, but the DA dropped all charges over a minor technicality. This mistake made Jerry the brunt of bad jokes for months to come. Jerry tried to make a case on him several times after, but the charges never stuck. I told you that I'd get you, Romero. A glimmer shines in Jerry's eyes as he suits up.

***

Santiago scurries around the sparsely furnished room, trying to finish his packing. The room consists of a king-sized bed, a dark-wood five-drawer dresser, and a worn, high-back chair. Heavy maroon drapes cover the French-style doors leading to the patio. The curtain's bold color brings out the dark stain of the freshly polished floor.

Grabbing a few unmentionables, Romero tosses them into the suitcase. I've traveled all over the world with this tattered luggage. He runs his hand along with its faded earth-toned fabric. He thought about replacing them, but the pieces had such sentimental value that he couldn't force himself to part with the gifts despite their frayed condition.

The godmother gave him the suitcases the day before they deported her to Columbia. It was the last time he saw her alive. Romero pictures the bittersweet day in his mind.

"Use them in good health, dear friend." She smiles, showing him a hidden compartment, a handy feature he's used several times through the years. He planned on passing the expensive gear to his son when he retires, but he never found the right woman to settle down with.

Maybe I'll meet a young woman in Costa Rica. He recalls the traveler's brochures, smiles, and then sighs. According to that, there are many beautiful women to choose from. He's looking for a few treasured keepsakes to take with him when his phone rings. "Hello."

"I'm pulling into the driveway now, sir," his chauffeur says in a high-pitched, nasally voice.

Romero glances at his watch. He recalls all the congestion on the freeway and stiff airport security. I may not get through all of that on time. With fury surging through him, he says, "I called the service over an hour ago."

"I. I got here as quick as I could, sir."

 "You better make damn sure I don't miss my flight." He pauses and then adds, "There will be hell to pay if I do.

Knowing Romero doesn't make empty threats, he gulps and says, "I... I will do my best, sir."

"You better." Throwing his phone in his pocket, Romero zips up his suitcase and heads to the door. Stopping, he turns and looks around one last time. Joyful memories soon come to mind. "Goodbye, old friend." 

Santiago throws the wooden barrier open and glances around the well-kept yard. Small birds tweet happily in the trees around him while larger birds circle above, searching for food. A heavenly scent of spring flowers intoxicates his senses. Fond memories continue to replay in his mind. "Nothing lasts forever," he thinks as he continues down the walk.

"Let me get them for you." The chauffeur grabs his luggage and tosses it in the trunk.

They hear tires crunching down the gravel drive. Romero looks up to find police cruisers heading their way. His heart pounds furiously in his chest. Beads of sweat pop out along his forehead. 

"Wha What do you want me to do?"

"Stall them as long as you can." The police car continues towards him, lights and sirens on as Romero races to the house. 

"What... What should I say, sir?" he asks. He turns to find Romero gone. The driver discovers three officers dashing towards him when he spins back around. He nervously shifts his weight, trying to think of something to say.

"Where's Santiago?" Jerry asks, glancing in the car. 

The chauffeur scratches his beard."Santiago, who, sir?" He hopes his dumb act will give the man enough time to hide.

"Santiago Romero, the owner of the house. Where is he?" Jerry demands.

Realizing he's trying to stall, Joe and Rachel dart across the yard.

The driver points towards the house. "He's inside, sir, but he'll be out shortly. He has a flight to catch, a family emergency, so my boss says"

"Family emergency, my ass." Jerry sneers, running toward the back of the house.

The team sees a figure sprint out the back when they storm through the front door.

"This way." Joe motions for Rachel to follow. The duo darts through the house. Reaching the porch, the three anxiously glance around.

The decorated backyard was large enough to entertain a dozen guests. There is a fire pit on one side and a full bar on the other. There are several pieces of outdoor furniture in between. The dense woods encircling it give the area a secluded feel.

"I lost him, boss," Jerry says anxiously, looking around.

Rachel points to the far corner of the lot. "He's headed east." She darts towards the thick forest, quickly engulfed by a thicket of bushes. 

"Rachel, stop, it might be a..." Joe begins.

There's a loud explosion. Branches and other debris fly everywhere.

"No," Joe screams, running towards the noise. There's a second explosion—tree limbs and debris scattered through the air, landing a few inches from Joe's feet. "Take cover," he yells, diving behind a retainer wall. Covering his head with his hands, Joe anxiously waits. Please, God, don't take her from me. Please, I beg you, don't do this to me again. Memories of his first wife race through his mind as he waits for the fallout to subside.

He lost his first wife, Becca, and their unborn child in a car accident a few days before her scheduled delivery date. With Becca's health issues, the doctor thought a cesarian section would be best. Joe was so traumatized by his loss that he could barely function, putting his job, his home, and his sanity in jeopardy. The captain recalls the small, heroic act that saved him from his downward spiral. 

Hearing about his friend's grave condition, Jerry took an emergency leave to be with his friend. "I'm not going to let you lay here on this couch and mourn yourself to death, Joe. So, you have two choices; you can get up on your own, or I'll get your ass up," Jerry says, holding a bucket of water over his friend's head. 

"Leave me alone, Jerry." He pulls the covers over his head.

"I mean it, Joe. You have five seconds to get off this couch. Five, four, three..." He tips the bucket; a drop splashes on the covers. "Two..."

"You better not, Jerry."

"I will unless you get up." He pauses a second and then says, "You asked for it, bud." Jerking the covers back, Jerry dumps the water on him. 

Joe was furious with him for doing what he did but knew he only did it because he cared. 

His thoughts quickly shift to his sweet Rachel. Joe has been infatuated with her since they were young but was too stubborn to admit it. After a near-death experience, a slip of his tongue set their ball in motion, proposing six months in. Jerry and their former captain teasingly asked Joe what took him so long.

"Please let Jerry and Rachel be alright, please. Unable to wait for a second longer, he darts towards the woods. Debris continues to fly all around him. Joe is determined to find his crew despite the danger to himself. 

He finds Jerry covered in a pile of rubbish, with only his head and part of a leg sticking out. Pushing his fear aside, the captain runs towards his friend. Seeing his friend alive, Joe sighs with relief. "Are you alright?" Joe asks, kneeling beside him.

"I don't think I'm hurt, but I can't get up." He tries to move. The rubble shifts around him.

Joe scans the pile of garbage. "Stop trying before you make things worse."

"I can't lay here under all this when Rachel is out there somewhere." 

" I'll worry about her. You just stay put until the paramedics get here." He reaches for his radio as he springs to his feet. "Officer, down, repeat officer down, we need assistance at this location." 

The dispatcher's voice blares over the radio. "An ambulance is en route, sir."

Joe turns towards Jerry and then glances at the woods. 

"Go, go," Jerry says, motioning his boss on.