Spencerville

night birds and locusts. Somehow none of this was news to him, though actually hearing it made a difference. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the place where the old-learned morality resided, was the thought that he should not be contemplating breaking up a marriage, a home, a family. He’d been involved in a lot of situations over the years that might be considered somewhat indelicate, maybe even gross and shameless, but that was then and there. This was here and now. This was home. Yet, if he believed Gail and Jeffrey, the Baxters were not entirely happy, and Mr. Baxter was a sociopath, and Mrs. Baxter needed help. Maybe.
    Jeffrey said to him, “Professionally, the guy is a Neanderthal. He has a serious problem with the kids in town. Yeah, a lot of the kids dress weird, wear their hair down to their shoulders, or shave their heads, and they blast their boom boxes in the park, and hang out and all that. We did some weird shit, too. But Baxter hassles them instead of helping them. His police force has no youth officer, no school outreach program. It only has patrol cars, cops, and a jail. The town’s dying, but Baxter doesn’t see it. He’s into law and order and not much else.”
    Keith commented, “Law and order is his job.”
    “Yeah,” agreed Jeffrey, “but I’ll tell you something else—he’s not real good at that either. We still have low crime here, but it’s starting to get worse. There are drugs now—not good grass, but hard stuff—and Baxter doesn’t have a clue about where it’s coming from, who’s selling it, or who’s buying. The nature of crimes and criminals has changed, and Baxter hasn’t. We have more domestic violence, we had a few car-jackings, we had two rapes so far this year, and we had a gang who came from Toledo by car and pulled off an armed robbery at the Merchants Bank. The state police caught them, not Baxter. Anyway, the state has offered the Spencerville force advanced training, but it’s not mandated, so Baxter blew them off. He doesn’t want anyone knowing how inept or corrupt he and his gestapo are.”
    Keith didn’t respond. In fact, he’d been charitable enough to think that maybe Cliff Baxter was a tough but effective cop. A lousy human being but a good chief, dedicated to public safety. On the other hand, the incident in the supermarket parking lot and the police car drive-bys had already told him he was dealing with a corrupt police force.
    Jeffrey went on, “Baxter blames drugs for this mini crime wave, and he’s partly right. But he also blames the schools, parents, television, MTV, movies, music, video arcades, smut magazines, and all that. Okay, maybe some of this is true, but he doesn’t see the relationship between crime and unemployment, and teenage boredom, and lack of opportunities, and lack of stimulation.”
    Keith commented, “Jeffrey, when has small-town America been any different? Maybe a tough police force is just what’s needed. Look, maybe progressive solutions could work in the cities, but this is not Columbus or Cleveland, my friend. Here we need small-town solutions to small-town problems, and you guys need a reality check.”
    Gail said, “Okay, we’re open to reality. We’re not the wild-eyed idealogues we used to be. But the problem remains the same.” She asked him, “Do you care?”
    Keith thought a moment, then replied, “Yes, it’s my hometown. I thought maybe things hadn’t changed much, and I could find some peace and quiet here, but I see you two aren’t going to let me go fishing.”
    Gail smiled and said. “Old revolutionaries don’t fade away like old soldiers, Keith. They just find a new cause.”
    “So I see.”
    Gail continued, “We think Baxter is vulnerable, that he’s developed some career problems which we want to exploit.”
    “Maybe he just needs counseling and sensitivity training. That’s what progressives like yourselves offer criminals. Why not cops?”
    Gail said to Keith, “I know you’re baiting us, and you’re good at it, but I also know you’re an intelligent man. You know, or you’re soon going to find out, that Cliff Baxter is beyond salvation, professionally, spiritually, or otherwise. Christ,
he
knows that. And he’s getting nervous, like a trapped rat, and that makes him more dangerous.”
    Keith nodded and thought,
And certainly not a better
husband.
    Gail said, “We think it’s time to get him fired. We need a moral victory, something to galvanize public opinion.”