Mily Hijabi Cop

Thanks to Tahrima Begum for giving me this idea for a story. Also check out her stories and send her some horny feedback.

***

Damian's seemingly perfect life was shattered. It all started 10 years ago, when he received a visit from two uniformed police officers. The officers that visited him were being sincere but everything went radio silent once he heard the news. His legs gave way and he collapsed under the weight of the news. His son had died.

His world was in pieces and he had no idea what to do. He had so many hopes and dreams for Jackson, his only son. A part of him died that day.

As more news trickled out from the police his pain only became greater. It was when he learned that Jackson was killed by the police and they shot him six times. They had said Jackson had attacked them, but the story simply did not add up.

The 25 year old had been a standout student in High School. He was the first in the family to go to University and graduated with honors. He had a job in the city at an advertising agency and he had an exemplary record. He never had any problems with the police but outside of work he liked to dress in hoodies as was the culture.

Jackson was Damian's pride and joy and he felt that his many years working and toiling from working in the court office as a clerk was all to provide Jackson with the opportunities he never had. He saw his son achieve academically and athletically. He was given a comfortable middle class lifestyle unlike Damian's own upbringing in the ghetto. Jackson had a good job in an advertising company and he was not your typical young black thug.

Damian, then 47 years old with hair that had began to gray and a body that was somewhat out of shape from lack of time in the gym, wanted to get to the bottom of things. He knew the police all too well from his many years in the court office and a black man was not going to get justice in this world but this was his son and he would spend every last breath until Jackson received justice.

He'd gone to the station to figure what had happened, but wasn't given any satisfactory answers. The department whose officers shot down his son in cold blood like he was some stray dog had effectively told him that the young man had deserved it because the officers "feared for their lives". Jackson posed no threat; he was not some street thug. He knew it did not smell right and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

There was of course no body cam footage, even though the officers were wearing them. They had conveniently been switched off. The smell of corruption was becoming overbearing. He knew the corrupt practices of the Police and he smelt a cover up. Despite the lack of evidence, he attempted to get lawyers interested in the case. He found one who had attempted to help, but was ultimately unsuccessful in bringing the two cops to justice.

Things continued to spiral from there. A year after they buried their son, he and his wife got a divorce.

He was unable to face his wife; their relationship was built around their son. He was a young man when Jackson was conceived. He had many ladies at the time but after a one night stand with Regina she fell pregnant, he was not going to let his son grow up without a father like he did and marriage was the only option to ensure his son grew up in a stable home. He was not going to be another deadbeat black dad. His ex-wife moved to a different state, after the divorce, unable to stay there after what had happened to their only child. He'd spent all his time and money to try to get some justice for Jackson, but he was faced with obstruction from every corner of the police, the cowardly lawyers, the courts, and the city. It was one big stinking cesspit. He had even sold the house they'd lived in, moving back into the ghetto.

In the end he was alone, his family torn apart by the two corrupt cops. As his funds dried up Damian had no choice but to stop searching for justice, unable to see a way for him to get the closure he desired. For the next few years, Damian lived a hollow existence. His drinking began to spiral and he was mocked as the local drunk. The local patrons had all heard his sob story and they were beginning to grow tired of it. It was one night he stumbled out of the bar drunk as usual. The barman had no option but to cut him off as he was stumbling around bothering customers. It was as Damian stumbled outside that he saw him. Officer Michael Mills. He would recognize the bastard anywhere. The officer was just stood there laughing with a friend without a care in the world outside of a bar. He had not changed much since Damian last saw him. A few more gray hairs were noticeable. He seemed to have dunked a few doughnuts in that time also. He was one of the cops that had shot his son.

Damian waited in a dark alleyway as he listened in on the two cops. Remaining hidden as he was drawn in once more. Damian overheard that he had been promoted to Detective and it just burned Damian inside as he thought of the future his son had lost, the promotions he would have received. Michael said his goodbyes and he walked towards his car.

Michael happened to walk passed the alleyway in which Damian was hiding. Damian did not know what to do and began to panic as Michael approached. He could not simply allow Michael to walk away.

As Michael was passing the alleyway he heard, "Hey Mister, can I bother you for a light?" Damian asked coming out of the shadows.

Michael looked at him like he was a worthless bum only adding to the rage Damian had internalized. Michael would not waste time with bums usually but he thought it was easier to offer a light than get into an altercation.

He took out his lighter and offered it to Damian. Damian just wanted to stop him and did not expect him to offer a lighter. He did not smoke and did not even have a cigarette. "Mister, may I also bother you for a cigarette?" Damian asked calming his nerves.

He heard him mutter something along the lines of, "Fucking niggers." Damian knew he was a racist and this triggered something inside of him.

He lashed out in a rage the last 2 years of anger coming out in lethal blows to the head of the detective. The detective fell to the ground and Damian continued to land blow after blow. The darkness inside of him that had been raging for the last 2 years had taken over and he did not feel in control of his actions.

The bloodied face of the officer was the last thing he remembered from the night before. He woke up with a hangover from hell in his own bed not remembering how he got there. His head was pounding and his hands were aching. As he looked down at them his hands were covered in blood. He went to the bathroom to wash his hands and the memories of the night before came back and he was filled with guilt. The blood was not his and the memories of what he did were flooding back. He hated the officer for killing his son and he had wanted vengeance but not like this. He wanted justice through the courts. He wanted the world to know what they did.

He turned on the news as he nursed his hangover, the guilt was building inside of him and he just hoped the officer was ok. The news led with the story of a hero cop that was brutally attacked in the streets of New York. Damian hated the fact that this scumbag was talked about as some hero. No one had directly witnessed the incident but the Police were looking for a 6'2" heavy build black man for further questions as he had been seen in the area.

Damian did not leave his apartment over the next few days as he wanted to wait until the heat died down. He spent the week drinking in his apartment when in a drunken stupor he heard that the Police had arrested another black man for the murder. His self hatred only became stronger as he looked at the half drunk bottle of whisky. How had he let his life fall into such despair? His son would be ashamed of him in this state. He had always tried to set the example of the strong hard working and most importantly loyal black man. Here he was in a drunken state letting another man take the fall for his crime. The bottle kept calling to him. He picked it up and in a rage smashed it against the wall.

In that moment he decided that he needed to go to the police station and hand himself in. He was still drunk as he stumbled his way across the city to the station. The duty officer ignored his confession and he was treated as a homeless bum looking for a free bed and hot meal. He was turned away and stumbled out of the station into a nearby alleyway where he slept off the booze.

Waking up as he felt the rain against his face. He was still reeking of alcohol. In this moment he knew he had to get cleaned up. His son would be ashamed to see him in this state.

It was an arduous 6 year journey of going to counseling and finally coming to terms with the death of his son. He had taken a vow to never drink again. He was inspired to qualify as a counselor. He had a new purpose in life and he wanted to help young people to live a better life. "You grab life by the horns. No permission. No apologies", it was something he had heard during his rehabilitation and it had stayed with him. He was not going to feel sorry for himself. He was taking control of his life.

For the past 2 years he worked with kids from different backgrounds but his primary focus was on young black men. It helped him to deal with his own demons around the death of his son.

Recently he had been following the news and there was a lot of talk among the young people in his youth project about organizing against police corruption in light of the George Floyd murder. He felt a sense of pride and honor to see the young people he counseled feel empowered and he felt he had finally done something to honor his son.

The Police were attempting to lessen tensions between the Police and protestors due to the momentum building. He attended one of these local Police community outreach programs. The spokesman for the Police immediately brought up difficult memories. Nabilah Ahmed was a few years older than the last time he had come across her. As he listened to her preach about understanding the reason for the protests that old darkness began to build inside him. She was involved in the shooting of his son and she lied with her colleagues in statements to cover up the shooting. She was the problem.

The more he listened to her the more he felt that darkness build. He scoffed as she announced, "Black Lives Matter." He muttered to himself, "This fucking bitch." He bit down his resentment not wanting to draw any attention. After the speeches he noticed Nabilah mingling with the crowd.

Nabilah was 5 ft 2, weighed about 115lb, with a body that measured in at 34-26-36, with 34E cup breasts. Her conservative hijab and her police uniform struggled to contain her body, and it certainly turned some heads, as she was this exotic thing amongst a sea of pale faces. She was the front for this new appeasing approach from the police. A hijab wearing brown Muslim woman was required to placate all the anger in the black community. He knew the truth about her and she was just like the rest of the cops.

As part of his role he was active in the community and made small talk with some of the other activist members. He then saw Nabilah approach their little group. The others in the group engaged her but he remained silent afraid of what he might say.

He tried to hide the rage he was feeling inside as his head was filled with pain and anger around the death of his son. All those emotions came flooding back and it took all his mental strength and courage to keep himself in check.

He left shortly after that meeting even though they did not speak a word to each other he still felt anger at his betrayal of his son.

He was sat in his car and punched the dashboard as he released some of that pent up anger. His hands were shaking as he felt that rage within him. He needed a drink to calm his nerves and he was fighting the temptation to drive to the nearest bar.

It was then he saw Nabilah walking towards her car. "That bitch. That fucking bitch. She is the cause of this." He muttered to himself in anger.

He saw her drive out of the car park and something came over him as he began to drive behind her following her. "You have to grab life by the horns. No permission. No apologies." He kept repeating it to himself. Was he being reckless in following her? He was on autopilot and could not stop even if he wanted to.

He was not paying much attention to his surroundings but all of a sudden realized they had driven out of the ghetto and into an affluent area. By affluent he meant rich, not just your usual suburban houses. How did this cop afford to live here on her salary?

She pulled into the drive of a large house as Damian drove passed her vehicle and parked further down the road. He saw her greeted at the door by her husband, a white man of course. "The sell out bitch" he muttered to himself. She preaches to the black community but is married to a white man. I saw her through the window pick up her son who seemed no more than 1 year old.

A black man in a beat up old sedan was going to stand out in this neighborhood and he drove away shortly after.

He hated the idea that this bitch could move on to riches while his family was torn apart by her despicable actions. In the next few days he spent late night after late night digging up as much as he could on Nabilah Ahmed. He discovered that she married Matthew Sawyer the son of a Millionaire property tycoon. As he dug into his past he noticed that Matthew, Michael and Nabilah went to the same High School. He thought what a small incestuous world.

How did this bitch live with herself? She had destroyed his family.

It was not long before he began following her and grew accustomed to her routine. It was not enough and he needed more access as his obsession grew. He lost days and nights as he was becoming obsessed with this woman. One night he was on a Message Board site about spying when he learned how easy it was to hack a person's phone and he began trying to work on a plan to do this.

If he had known her in any other light he would have found her attractive. She had tits to die for and he could imagine how good her ass must feel cushioning a hard cock. The hijab only made her sexier as it left a sense of mystery. Enough of that, his focus was on ruining her life.

He needed a few minutes alone with her phone but she was always on the move and kept her phone in her bag. It would not be possible to intercept her at work but every morning she would visit the coffee shop. This would be his opportunity but he needed an opening. He followed her in the coffee shop for a week but saw no opportunities.

The more he followed her the more he had resentful admiration for her. She seemed to be able to have a strong presence and had control over other officers. She was in a senior position in the service and had a commanding presence. He wanted to destroy all of that.

One morning she was a little distracted almost as though her mind was somewhere else. She left her bag unattended and Damian as subtle as he could be took her phone and downloaded the software. He replaced it without anyone being any wiser, which is difficult for a black man in a coffee shop frequented by mainly white people.

Over the next few days Damian familiarized himself with the app and began to read her messages. There was nothing out of the ordinary but he noticed that the messages with her husband were cold and formal. It was not the intimate messages you would expect from lovers, but it seemed to fit her personality, cold and heartless.

It took some time for Damian to understand how to use the app and he only realized a few days later that he could access her phone calls which were recorded to the app and he could also access her microphone and camera.

He was initially interested in her work phone calls as he believed she was an opportunist talking about Black Lives Matter etc.

She seemed to be genuinely pushing the Black Lives Matter agenda and in a lot of calls she was advocating for a new approach to policing. Damian was disappointed in hearing this as he hoped she was the devil he had envisaged but he did not allow this to change his mind set.

He began to read her messages with her husband as he found their relationship fascinating. The messages were stored up to the last 2 years and as he went back to the beginning he noticed that they had a warmer relationship but it became cold 12 months ago around the birth of their son.

The most telling message was sent soon after the birth of their son. It was one of those long messages a woman will send when she is overly emotional but it revealed that her husband cheated on her while she was pregnant. There was a sentence that I did not fully understand, "I protected your friends for you and you betrayed me in the most hurtful way."

Damian began to question whether he was right about her and maybe it was something she had no choice in. This led to feelings of guilt about the way he was behaving as his life began to fall into a spiraling pattern once again. He closed the laptop and decided that would be the end of the matter.

In the following days he went back to focusing on his role as a counselor. He could not help but find his mind going back to Nabilah repeatedly but in a sympathetic way this time. How could a man cheat on such a sexy woman? Even Damian had a begrudging admiration for her body. It was simply made to be fucked.

That night he kept thinking back to her and opened the laptop to go on the app. He went through her recent messages and there was nothing of particular interest. He decided to turn on her microphone.

It was late and he initially thought she might be asleep but a part of him had darker thoughts and thought she might be having sex. That body was made to be fucked.

He could only hear rustling and someone walking around. The innocuous noise was broken by Nabilah. "I am wearing that lingerie tonight." She said in a seductive manner.

Damian without hesitation opened the camera on the phone. The camera was facing towards the ceiling and he could not see anything. He groaned in frustration. It did not occur to him why he was behaving in this way or why he wanted to see her in lingerie but his obsession was growing.

"That was before you got fat and pushed a big old baby out of you. Your tits leak every time I fondle them. It just repulses me." Her husband said coldly. Damian could not believe what he was hearing and his sympathy for Nabilah was growing. Even through his resentment he could appreciate what a sexy woman Nabilah was. The erection in his boxers was testament enough to how sexy he found the thought of Nabilah in lingerie.

Damian heard a whimper. "It is your baby too. I just want to be loved. I have done so much for you." She pleaded in tears.

"Do not bring up Michael again. He protected you after you shot that kid." Damian almost fell out of his seat as he heard this. He knew that bitch was a no good racist cunt. He switched off the microphone and his thirst for vengeance began to grow.

The rage was boiling over and he was beginning to explode. There was only one way to bring justice to these people and it was to bring down the remaining two members of this evil group.

He turned his attention to Matthew and began following him. Over the next 2 weeks he discovered that he was having several affairs. He was also involved with some unsavory people. Matthew was involved in corruption and money laundering that could seriously damage his company. He gathered evidence against him and intended to expose him.

He started his expose by revealing his affairs to Nabilah and to his company. He duly resigned and Nabilah kicked him out. He had now separated the unhappy couple. He monitored Matthew as his behavior began to spiral. He would call Nabilah and they would have blazing row after row. Damian was beginning to enjoy his little game but he wanted to add to the misery. He had hoped that the end of her marriage would hurt Nabilah but she seemed resolute.