In The Line Of Duty: No Greater Love free porn video
In the Line of Duty: No Greater Love
By Scott Ramsey
Edited by Amelia R.
The note taped to her locker was not a good sign. The total absence of any
other women in the locker room was even worse. Megan Lauer sighed as she
slipped on her tan uniform, the Miami-Dade Police badge resting over her
left breast. Once she was dressed, she snapped the locker door shut and
pulled the note down. It instructed her to report to the division
commander's office before roll call, which meant she would have to hustle.
The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself by being
late.
She reached the office of Major Craig Sheffield and knocked on the door,
entering upon the gruff command of her superior. There was another officer
already in the office.
"I'm not going to beat around the bush here, Lauer," Sheffield said.
"We've had a hell of time getting you a partner. Seems no one wants to
ride with you, and I can't say I blame them."
"Sir, the department's policy on non-discrimination...."
"I know what the damn policy says! It also considers you female, and as
such you have to ride with a partner. You should be thankful Sergeant
Collins here agreed to take you, or you'd be riding a desk."
Megan turned her gaze towards the other officer. Sergeant Mike Collins was
close to retirement age and had been on the streets for over twenty years.
He had a reputation as a tough, no nonsense cop, and he returned her gaze
with an expression that was unreadable.
"I want to make one thing clear, Officer Lauer. I will not tolerate any
disruptions in this division. I've made it plain to every officer here
that you have a legal right to be here, and that any harassment will be
dealt with swiftly and harshly. Don't take that to mean I intend to cut
you any slack, however."
"I'll do my job, Major."
"Then get to roll call and do it."
Megan nodded and left the office. Collins moved to follow but was stopped
at the door as Sheffield spoke again.
"Thanks, Mike, I owe you. I hate to say it, but I'm afraid she's going to
need someone to watch her back."
"Her back?" Collins laughed.
"Yes, her back. Whether you or I understand what she's done doesn't matter
one damn bit. The law says she's a woman, and that same law guarantees her
a workplace free of harassment. You might also consider, Sergeant, that it
takes a boatload of guts for her to even show her face here."
Mike Collins looked at his old friend and smiled.
"You're right," he said, "you do owe me - big time."
*****
It was like every eye in the room was boring into her at roll call. She
tried to pass it off as nerves, but the truth was that every officer in
the briefing room glanced her way at least once. Most of the looks were at
best ambivalent, but quite a few were openly hostile. After the morning
brief, she checked the call sheets and then found her partner. He didn't
say a word, just grunted and headed out to their squad car. She didn't
even offer to drive; she was new to the division, and he was more familiar
with the streets.
"I just want to say thank you," Megan said as they started their patrol.
"Don't thank me," Collins said. "I don't understand what could be going
through someone's head to make them do what you've done, and I don't like
it. Like the Major said, though, the law says you have a right to be here,
and you have to have a partner."
"You're just like everyone else," Megan sighed, a bitter edge to her
voice. "You don't understand because you won't even try."
"Maybe, but that's my right. I don't have to understand you; you just do
your job, and I'll do mine."
Megan nodded, and that's how the first day went. The day was fairly
routine, and it wasn't until they headed back to the station that she
began to feel uneasy. As she entered the locker room, there were two other
female officers there. Upon seeing Megan, they looked at each other and
then left without saying a word. Megan watched them leave and then changed
into her civilian clothes. She managed to hold the tears in until she got
to her car.
*****
Over the next several weeks, each day was a repeat of the one before.
Megan came to work, did her job and went home, with no one speaking to her
other than what was required by the job. There were a few tense moments, a
few snide remarks that stopped just short of actual harassment. No one
wanted to test the Major, so things maintained an uneasy civility.
All that time Mike Collins watched his new partner carefully. He had known
a lot of cops in his twenty plus years on the street, and Megan was a cop.
More than that, she was a good cop.
They were six weeks into their partnership, working the night shift,
before they had their first really serious call, a domestic dispute that
had turned violent. A woman had called 911 and reported that her live-in
boyfriend had become physically abusive during an argument. Both parties
had been drinking, and by the time they reached the scene, two more calls
had come in from neighbors. The last call indicated the fight had moved
into the front yard of the small house, and that the male was armed.
Domestic disputes were always a tense situation for police officers.
Alcohol and drugs were often contributing factors to an already
emotionally volatile situation. Worst of all, if violence was involved and
they were forced to physically restrain the abuser, the victim often
turned on the officers as the desire to protect their partner overrode
common sense.
The two officers arrived on the scene to find the man in the front yard,
his arm around his girlfriend's throat as he brandished a revolver with
his other hand. When he saw the squad car, he stopped waving the gun and
pressed the muzzle to her head.
"Stay the fuck away, or I'll blow her fucking head off!"
Megan immediately drew her Smith and Wesson .40 caliber semiautomatic and
began circling left, moving to place herself on the man's flank. Mike kept
his weapon holstered, his hand hovering near the butt as he cautiously
moved towards the pair.
"Let's just take a breath and calm down, partner," he said, his voice firm
but not threatening. "You don't want to hurt anyone."
The man looked from Mike to Megan, and then back to Mike. His voice
trembled as he said, "I'll kill her; I swear I will if you don't back
off!"
"You know we can't do that," Mike said. His voice remained calm, but his
heart was racing. The perp had his finger on the trigger, and the hammer
of the revolver was cocked. All it would take was a tiny bit of pressure,
and the woman would be dead.
"Let the lady go, and we can talk about this," Mike continued. He kept his
eyes focused on the man with the gun, while he watched his partner's
progress with his peripheral vision. She was off to the perp's right and a
little behind him, her weapon angled towards the ground in a two handed
grip. She was ready to take a shot if she had to, but as long as the woman
was so close it was very risky.
Mike took another two steps forward. He wasn't quite close enough to grab
the woman, but he could see the perp's face clearly enough. He had seen
the signs hundreds of times; the pasty skin, the wild, panicked eyes and
the shaking hands. It was more than just the intensity of the situation;
he was in serious withdrawal, probably from heroin. An addict that was
hurting that bad was like a wild animal.
"Look, if you hurt her, my partner over there is going to drop you," Mike
said. "You don't want that."
The man snapped his head right to look at Megan, and Mike lunged forward,
his arms wrapping around the woman. The force of his charge ripped her
from the perp's arms and took her to the ground, Mike covering her body
with his own.
Megan had been ready for it, knowing that Mike would try to get the victim
out of the line of fire. As the perp swung back towards her partner, she
snapped her weapon up on target.
"Drop the gun, now!"
The perp twisted back to his right, the gun traveling with him. The barrel
looked cavernous as Megan stared down its maw. There was a loud noise and
a flash from the barrel of the revolver and something whizzed past Megan's
right ear. She held her ground and squeezed the trigger twice, the man's
body jerking as two .40 caliber rounds hit him in the chest. The gun fell
from his suddenly limp hand, and then he collapsed to his knees and fell
face first into the grass.
Megan rushed forward, her weapon trained on the still form as she kicked
the revolver away. Then she knelt and checked his pulse. She looked over
at Mike as he was lifting the screaming woman from the ground and shook
her head.
*****
In over twenty years as a cop, Mike Collins had only fired his weapon in
the line of duty three times, and none of those had resulted in the death
of another human being. Still, he knew what he had felt each time, and he
knew that for his young partner it was a thousand times worse.
An officer-involved shooting results in mountains of paperwork, and that
alone would be enough to add to an already emotionally draining ordeal.
The paperwork was only the start, however. After that came the review by
internal affairs, and each of the officers were questioned separately
regarding what had happened. The questioning was not pleasant; the
investigators from IA had to make sure neither was covering for the other,
and that all departmental policies had been strictly observed. It
sometimes got quite heated.
When it was finally over, the detective who had been grilling Megan leaned
back in his chair and smiled.
"It'll be a couple of days before we have a final report," he said. "You
don't have anything to worry about, though. This was a righteous shoot."
"That doesn't make me feel any better," Megan sighed.
The detective nodded. "If it did, you would have something to worry
about."
Emotionally and physically exhausted, Megan made her way to the locker
room. She stopped before her locker and sat down on the bench, burying her
face in her hands.
"You okay, hun?"
Megan looked up at the speaker, her haunted eyes saying all that needed to
be said. The female officer was a little shorter than Megan, and her dark
blonde hair was barely shoulder length. She sat down on the bench and put
her arm around Megan.
"I heard what happened," she said. "I'm Sandi Gerrold. I've been away on
maternity leave, so we haven't had a chance to meet."
Megan tried to speak, but all that came were tears. Sandi pulled her close
and held her as she sobbed.
"I know it's tough, sweetie," Sandi said. "I hope to God I never have to
know just how tough myself."
"It's not just that," Megan sniffed. "You're ... you're the first woman
here that's said a kind word to me."
"Don't let them get to you. You kind of strain their perfect perception of
the world. I say screw them."
Megan laughed despite the fact that she didn't feel very cheerful. Sandi
squeezed her shoulders and then took a pad of paper from her pocket and
scribbled down her name and phone number. She tore the slip of paper off
and handed it to Megan.
"Call me, anytime. I love to talk, and I'm a really good listener."
"Thanks, Sandi. This means ... well, thanks."
Sandi smiled, "Don't mention it. Now, I have to hit the streets, and you
need to go home and get some rest. You look awful, girl!"
*****
Per departmental policy, Megan was placed on administrative leave while
Internal Affairs concluded their investigation. It didn't take long; the
situation was clear, and there were numerous statements from neighbors who
had witnessed the incident to support the officers. What amazed Megan most
of all was that, from the time they had arrived until the time she had
fired her weapon, less than five minutes had passed. It had seemed like
hours.
Three days later she was back on the day shift and on patrol with Mike.
She was relieved when the morning passed with nothing more serious than a
few citations issued. When lunch time rolled around, Mike placed them out
of service and pulled into a parking space in front of his favorite deli.
"You like Cubans?" he asked. "They serve the best in town here."
"Sounds good, I'm starved," Megan said. It may have been her imagination,
but Mike seemed less gruff today.
Her surprise over his apparent softening in attitude was compounded when
he picked up the tab for their meal. They found a table outside where they
could enjoy the spring air, and Megan took a bite of her sandwich.
"This is good," she said.
Mike smiled as he bit into his own sandwich. They ate in silence for a few
minutes, and then Mike spoke, surprising her again.
"You were right that first day," he said. "I didn't want to understand.
I'd like to try now, though, if you feel comfortable talking about it."
Megan looked into his eyes and saw the sincerity there. She took another
bite of her sandwich and collected her thoughts as she chewed.
"When did you first know you wanted to be a cop?" she asked at last.
"I knew when I was a kid," Mike said. "I watched all the cop shows, Adam-
12, Dragnet. I didn't want to be a detective though; I wanted to be Pete
Malloy, out on the streets in a squad car."
"I know what you mean," Megan smiled. "Imagine though if you felt that way
inside, but because of the way you were on the outside, because of the
body you were in, you couldn't be a cop - say you were just a naturally
chubby kid who would never pass the physical."
Mike chuckled, "I was a chubby kid. I worked my ass off to keep my weight
down and get in shape. I still have to work at it, but nothing is gonna
keep me off the streets as long as I can still do it."
"I know what you mean there too. You see, when I was a kid, I knew that
inside I was a girl. But every time I looked in a mirror, I saw a boy's
body looking back. Everybody who saw me saw a boy.
"For a long time, I tried to be the boy everyone saw. I guess that's part
of the reason why I became a cop. I found out I was a good cop too, but it
wasn't enough. I needed to be able to look in the mirror and see a body
that matched who I was inside."
"Did you, well, wear dresses and stuff when you were still a guy?"
Megan smiled, not missing the phrasing of her maleness as past tense.
"Yes, I did," she told him. "Even that wasn't enough, though. It was just
temporary; I could only be Megan part time, and even then it wasn't quite
right. The only thing that could make it right was going all the way and
transitioning."
"It must have been tough at your old division."
"It was. I lost a lot of people I had thought of as friends. Not all, but
a lot. After my surgery, the brass decided it would be best if I
transferred here and made a new start. So far, it's been a bit rocky, but
I have hope."
"Change takes time, Megan," Mike said. "I know for me it was always a
given; men were men and women were women. When someone fell in between,
well, they were just weird."
"I knew it would be hard. Knowing something and actually experiencing it
are two very different things, though."
"You're a damn good cop; that'll make them take you seriously," Mike said.
"For my part, well, I'm sorry for my attitude. I can't honestly say I
understand what you're going through - what you've gone through, but then,
I guess to really understand it, I'd have to go through it myself. I'm
proud to have you as my partner, though."
"That means more than I can say," Megan told him. "Hey, if an old fossil
like you can change his attitude, there really is hope."
"You better watch it, missy," Mike grinned as he picked up his sandwich.
"Grandpa here just might take you over his knee and spank you."
Megan started giggling, "Now that would cause quite a stir!"
*****
A week later, as they neared the end of their shift, they received a call
for an armed robbery in progress. Megan immediately hit the lights and
siren and then informed dispatch that they were responding as Mike pressed
his foot down on the gas pedal.
They were a minute out when the second call came in; officer down. Mike
pressed the pedal to the floor as further information warned that the
perpetrators were armed with automatic weapons. The same thought flashed
through both officers' minds - the North Hollywood Shootout of February
1997. Two heavily armed and armored men had wounded twelve police officers
and two bystanders before they were finally killed.
There was a squad car on scene as they screeched to a halt. They could see
a body lying midway between the car and the bank, his tan uniform shirt
dark with blood. Fire immediately sprayed from the bank entrance, and a
few rounds peppered their car as Mike and Megan both exited through the
passenger side, Megan grabbing their twelve gauge from its mount along the
way. It wouldn't penetrate body armor, but it could certainly stagger a
target nonetheless.
"It's Chuck," Sandi Gerrold said as they joined her behind her own unit.
"He was moving to the front when they opened up."
"How many?" Megan asked.
"Three, I think. The one I saw had an MP-5."
"Keys in the unit?" Mike asked. Sandi nodded. "All right, I'm gonna pull
it between Chuck and the bank. You two keep their heads down with the
scatterguns, and I'll drag Chuck back."
Both women nodded in understanding. The safe thing to do was wait for more
backup to arrive, but a fellow officer was down and bleeding to death, and
none of them were willing to wait. Megan led Sandi over to their unit, and
once Mike was in the other car, they both began firing at the door of the
bank.
The tires of the squad car squealed as Mike hit the gas, darting forward
and cutting hard to the right to place the bulk of the car between the
wounded officer and the bank. Mike crawled out the passenger side and kept
low as he moved to Chuck's side and started dragging him back towards the
car.
The fire from Megan and Sandi paused as their shotguns were emptied, and a
man stepped from the bank. His body armor was clearly visible as he opened
fire with what looked like an AK-47. It was North Hollywood all over
again.
The heavy caliber rounds slammed into the car shielding Mike and Chuck,
flattening the tires and riddling the engine compartment. More bullets
punctured the gas tank, and the smell of gasoline mixed with the odor of
gunpowder ... and fear.
The car was history, and the ruptured gas tank was a bomb waiting to
explode. Mike grabbed Chuck under the arms and started dragging him to
safety, as Megan and Sandi began firing their side arms.
He'd made it ten feet when something smashed into his right leg like a
hammer. One of the gunmen had emerged from the bank and walked around the
car for a better angle, despite repeated hits from Megan and Sandi. Mike
went down hard as bullets struck the pavement all around him.
~ This is it ... this is how it ends. Well I had a good run. ~
The armored gunman approached arrogantly, dropping the spent drum from his
assault rifle and pulling a smaller box mag from his harness. He had just
slipped it into the well when he staggered, his head snapping back as two
.40 caliber rounds struck him in his unarmored face. Mike turned and saw
Megan charging forward, her pistol continuing to fire. She skidded to the
pavement beside him and holstered her pistol.
"Sit tight and keep your head down, Grandpa," she said as she grabbed
Chuck under the arms. "I'll be right back."
Mike tried to rise, but his leg wouldn't permit it; the femur shattered by
the impact of the bullet. He watched helplessly as his partner dragged
Chuck towards safety and cried out as he saw her go down as a bullet found
her.
Megan struggled back to her feet, her side blazing in agony, but her own
body armor had stopped the nine millimeter round from the other gunman's
MP-5. She grabbed Chuck again and finished dragging him to cover.
Sirens wailed as more squad cars arrived, but Megan didn't hesitate. She
snapped a fresh magazine into her pistol and ran back for her partner,
firing as she ran. She was almost to him when she was hit again, the
impact staggering her. Her pistol flew from her grasp, but she kept
moving.
"Stay down, Meg," Mike pleaded. "Help's almost here."
Megan looked towards the bank, tasting blood in her mouth. The two
remaining gunmen were making a break for it, and they would pass within
feet of the two defenseless officers.
She drew in a breath and forced her head under Mike's arm. With all her
strength, she rose and lifted him in a fireman's carry. The newly arriving
officers added their fire to cover their comrades, and Megan reached the
safety of Sandi's unit and set Mike down. Sandi was already applying
pressure to Chuck's wounds, and another officer came forward to help Mike.
Megan watched it all with a calm detachment. She could hear her own pulse,
loud in her ears, and a strange, peaceful lethargy began to spread through
her. The SWAT team arrived, and in a matter of seconds the shootout was
over. Paramedics moved forward and started treating Chuck and Mike.
"Megan? Megan can you hear me?"
Sandi's voice seemed so far away, and Megan tried to answer, but she
couldn't form the words.
"Jesus, she caught one under the arm! We need a medic over here now!"
She felt someone holding her, strong arms cradling her as a voice spoke
softly in her ear.
"Hang on, Meg, the medics are coming," Mike's voice said. "You hear me?
You hang on!"
She tried to tell Mike it was all right, that she could finally be who she
really should have been. She could feel it, as her spirit began to drift
from the body that had confined it for so long and made her be something
she wasn't.
"It's okay, Mike," she managed to say at last. Her hand reached up and
touched his face. "Thanks for being my partner - and my friend."
Mike's pleading voice drifted farther and farther away, and Megan felt
herself embraced by warmth and acceptance such as she had never known
before.
*****
Megan Lauer was not the first police officer to fall in the line of duty,
and she certainly, and tragically, would not be the last. Her sacrifice,
however, sent ripples through the force, causing many to reexamine their
own long held beliefs.
The doctors had suggested that Mike not attend the memorial service, but
he wouldn't stand for that. As he made his way onto the podium, his leg in
a cast from the hip to the ankle, his own mind was awhirl. He wasn't sure
until he was actually before the microphone what he was going to say.
"We're here today to honor a fallen officer, our sister on the streets.
Make no mistake about it; Megan was a cop, through and through. She was
much, much more than that, though.
"The last words she said to me were to thank me for being her partner and
her friend. I may have been her partner, but I can't really say I was her
friend. A friend wouldn't have stood by and listened to the crude jokes
made at her expense when her back was turned. A real friend would have
told the speaker to shut up, instead of laughing along with him like one
of the good old boys. A real friend would have stood up for her, even if
it meant taking ridicule himself. I wasn't her friend, because I didn't
deserve a friend like her."
Mike looked out on the ranks of tan uniforms, his voice catching for a
moment. He fought back the tears, gripping the podium tightly as he
struggled to continue.
"People say Meg was brave because of what she did. I say Meg was brave
because she refused to accept what life handed her, and what society said
she should accept. She refused to be the person people saw and instead
fought to be the person she really was.
"The Bible tells us this; greater love has no one than to lay down their
life for a friend. Those words were never more true to me than they are
today. We lay to rest a fellow officer and a most loving soul, and it is
my fervent prayer that she has at last found the peace that so eluded her
in this life.
"From this moment on, I know that my mission in life is to earn that title
Meg gave me - to earn the right to be her friend. Megan Lauer was a damn
fine person, a damn good cop, but more than any of that, she was one hell
of a woman."
The End
Marisol
- 15.04.2021
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