Clarissa Gets Served

It was Friday afternoon, 16:00. Or, if you prefer, 4 o'clock pm for those who are not familiar with military time, which is what we use in law enforcement. Things around any government office seem to be fairly calm at that time of the day on a Friday and our offices at the Mason County Sheriff's Department were no exception.

Shift change had come and gone at 3 pm and most of the staff who worked regular office hours had bugged out early, burning up a little unused comp time to do so. My Captain and Chief Deputy, Benito "Ben" Villanueva had left at noon that day so he could take his family on a mini-vacation to the Twin Cities for the weekend.

As for me, I was anxiously awaiting the return of my day shift Lieutenant, Deputy Christopher Hayes to return from an important assignment that I had given him earlier in the week.

My name is Sean Patrick Quinn, Jr. But everyone calls me Pat. I am the newly-elected and sworn Sheriff of Mason County. This particular day ended my first official week of office since I was sworn in last Monday morning. I had given Chris Hayes the assignment just after my swearing in ceremony and initially planned to have him execute that assignment later that day. But I had a change of heart and decided to have him wait until this afternoon to carry it out.

Part of the duties of Lieutenants is to serve warrants, notices and official papers to individuals when requested to do so. It costs members of the general public $80 to have the Sheriff's Office serve official papers. For me, it was money well spent. And so, I had given my good Lieutenant the task of serving my soon-to-be-ex-wife, Clarissa, with divorce papers this afternoon. Hence, I was sitting in my office eagerly awaiting his arrival to see how it went.

At approximately 16:03 a very pissed off Lieutenant Chris Hayes blew into my office.

"The next time you decide to get divorced, Pat, you can serve the bitch those goddamned papers yourself!"

"I take it the process serving didn't go so well?" I chuckled.

"Look at me, Pat," Chris said, gesturing to the right side of his face. The entire cheek and right ear were beat red. "That stupid bitch slapped me right across the face!"

"She

WHAT?"

I couldn't believe what I just heard.

"I didn't stutter. I served her the damned papers and she fucking slapped me right across the face!"

"Oh, my God!" I burst out laughing. "That is the most fantastic thing I have ever heard! Please, for the love of God, tell me you are not joking!"

"Hell no, I'm not joking," he said, taking a seat in front of my desk. "She came to the door and I politely asked her if she was Clarissa Marie Quinn. She said yes. I said, 'Clarissa Marie Quinn, you have been served'. She totally freaked the fuck out, got into a big argument with me, started bawling her damned head off and finished it off with a fucking haymaker right across my right cheek and ear. You know how damned bad it hurts to get slapped on the fucking ear, Pat? It hurts like a bitch! Even when it's from a woman, for Christ's sake!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I said, trying to stop myself from laughing. "I'm not laughing about you getting slapped. I'm laughing at that stupid twat for losing her cool like that." Then, the ultimate thought occurred to me. "Oh, my God! Please, please, please, for the love of God, tell me that you were wearing your lapel camera when all of this was going on! Please tell me you were smart enough to have it on when all of this went down!"

"What? The lapel cam? Of course, I had it on! How stupid do y-...ohhhhh, riiiiiight! I get it!" Now Chris understood.

This past Summer and Fall I had basically served as interim Sheriff while my predecessor, William "Bud" Roberts, was a lame duck and absentee Sheriff. So, not only was I running a campaign to succeed Bud as Sheriff, but I was also running the day-to-day operations of the entire department. One of the best moves I made was using some seized and forfeited narcotics money to purchase Wolfcam body cameras for every Deputy in the department. The cameras were attached to the shoulder lapels of the uniform and provided high definition 1080p resolution video and crystal clear audio that recorded any type of event the deputy might encounter.

The video was recorded via a blue tooth feed to the onboard video recorder that also recorded video and audio from the deputy's cruiser's dash camera. Every department that has implemented the use of these cameras has seen a massive drop in the number of complaints filed by citizens of the public who try to accuse us of harassment or excessive use of force. Actually, the complaints were still filed but usually withdrawn once the perps or their families saw the video of the event.

The cameras were only about half the size of the palm of your hand. My deputies initially had mixed emotions about the cameras. On the one hand, they kind of felt like Big Brother was keeping an eye on them. But already the video had corroborated no less than six of my deputies' accounts of various incidents that had resulted in complaints from citizens. All six complaints were withdrawn when the parties (and their attorneys, of course) had a chance to see the video.

I was absolutely giddy as I couldn't wait to see the video. Hopefully, it would give me all the evidence and momentum I needed to implement my plans to divorce my cheating wife and dictate the divorce on MY terms.

Chris retrieved the video data from his cruiser and downloaded it onto my laptop. The video started with Chris casually walking toward the steps leading up to the front porch of my farmhouse. He rang the doorbell twice before Clarissa finally appeared. When she did, you could clearly see the shocked look on her face at seeing a Deputy at her door.

"Yes? May I help you?"

she asked.

"Are you Clarissa Marie Quinn?"

Chris asked.

"Oh, come on. You know I am. What is this about?"

"Ma'am, I'm Deputy Lieutenant Chris Hayes,"

he said, handing her the manila envelope.

"Mrs. Quinn, you have been officially served."

"What? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, ma'am. You have been served."

"Oh, my God! I can't believe this! I cannot believe that gutless son-of-a-bitch would send one of his fucking deputies to do this!"

"Good afternoon, ma'am,"

Chris said, turning and walking back to his cruiser.

"Hey, Dammit!"

Clarissa proceeded to half-shove half-punch Chris in the back.

"I'm not finished with you! You tell that bastard that he better be home in time for dinner! I do not accept this! Tell him to get his ass home so we can talk this over!"

"Ma'am, you need to calm down. I will not tolerate you touching me in an aggressive manner."

Chris was trying very hard to keep his cool.

"Or what? What the fuck are you going to do about it? You're just a peon deputy! You're nobody!"

"Ma'am, I'm warning you. You need to step back and calm down."

"Oh, now YOU'RE trying to tell me what to do? You don't tell me to do a damned thing! I'm STILL the wife of the Sheriff, you prick!"

She proceeded to walk towards him waving the manila envelope at him as though she was threatening to hit him with it.

"You tell Patrick that he better have his ass home by six o'clock! He better not be going to his little whore's house on the north side!"

"Ma'am, calm down NOW!"

Chris reached forward and put his hand on her shoulder to get her to stop approaching him. Instead of calming her, it sent Clarissa into full nuclear-meltdown-mode.

"Get your fucking hands off me, you prick!"

she screamed, batting his hand away.

"You don't ever fucking touch me!"

And with that...WHACK! Clarissa slapped poor Chris right across the right side of his face.

"And tell that fucking jerk to get his ass home right fucking now!"

she screamed, turning and stomping back towards into the house.

"Oh, my God! That was fucking awesome!" I said, bursting in to hysterical laughter again. "But Jesus, Chris! Why didn't you arrest her right on the spot?"

"Truthfully," Chris said, "I was too damned stunned to know what to do. I wasn't sure if I should haul her off in cuffs or just let you deal with the dumb skank. So I came back here and decided to dump the ball in your lap."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not," I chided. "You're gonna go back out there and arrest her dumb ass for assaulting a law enforcement officer, that's what you're gonna do."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Pat? You're seriously gonna plop me in the middle of this shit?"

"Dude, you're already neck deep in it. Besides, wouldn't you like a little payback? Don't you think it would feel great to be the one to haul her off to jail? Book her in? Take her mug shot? In other words, to humiliate the living shit out of her for slapping you across the face?"

Chris thought for a moment and sighed. "You do make an appealing argument, I'll give you that. But I'm not fucking going alone. If she pisses me off any more than she already has, I'm liable to taze the living shit out of her and probably electrocute her. I can't help but think that would be something of a black mark on my stellar law enforcement record if I fried the wife of a sitting sheriff. Uh, Pat? You do realize this is probably going to be in the newspaper and shit, right?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll handle that."

"And she's not gonna be able to stay here, ya know. Our jail's full. She's gonna have to go to Choctaw County tonight and that's a two-hour van ride."

"Not our problem. She made the bed, in more ways than one. And now she gets to lie in it."

"So, you sending someone with me or what?" Chris asked.

"Who's the Lieutenant on duty right now?" I asked.

"Angel Ryerson."

"Perfect. Have Angel and one of her deputies meet up with you. Make a nice little show of force out of it."

"Isn't this going to freak out your kids, though, Pat?"

"Nah. They're spending the weekend with the youth group from Saint Matt's. They're headed over to the Twin Cities to stay at a hotel with an indoor water park and mess around over at the Mall of America. Probably spend most of their weekend in the pool or over at Camp Snoopy."

"I thought they call it Nickelodeon something-or-other now," Chris said, grabbing his hat.

"Yeah, I think you're right. But everybody I know still calls the place Camp Snoopy."

"Alright, Pat. I guess it's time to go arrest your stupid wife."

"Good luck! Call me when you're done."

*******

Needless to say, Clarissa's arrest did not go well - at least not for Clarissa, anyway. She threw such a fit that she damned near got herself an additional charge of resisting arrest. The video would show Lieutenant Angel Ryerson, who is a pint-sized dynamo at only 5 feet 3 inches tall, literally throwing Clarissa down on our front porch while another deputy, Brad Lowe, slapped the cuffs on her and read Clarissa her rights. Clarissa was hysterically crying and shouting at Brad, Angel and Chris the entire time and threatening to sue them for false arrest, excessive force and anything else she could think of.

But it was caught on video in all its 1080p glory and perfect audio that caught every swear word, sneeze and sniffle. Add in the video of her getting served my papers, for good measure, and there wasn't a judge anywhere who would determine that the three Deputies handled themselves with anything but the utmost professionalism the entire time.

By 18:30, Clarissa was photographed, booked, fingerprinted and processed into the Mason County jail. By 19:00 she was dressed in a set of red and white striped prison clothes with a pair of matching red croc shoes. She was crying hysterically as she was led to the van that would transport her nearly two hours south to the Choctaw County jail that is located just outside the town of Cherokee Flats.

The Choctaw County jail is capable of holding 240 prisoners, while our own jail could only hold a maximum of 40, and a full house meant our jail was literally busting at the seams. It was a situation I was bound and determined to correct as Sheriff and one of my top priorities.

As there is no magistrate judge working on the weekend, except in cases to authorize emergency warrants, Clarissa would now have the better part of the next 72 hours to sit and think about what she had done.

A brief phone call to my counterpart in Choctaw County, Sheriff Garrett Meyers, ensured that Clarissa would have a prison cell all her own and away from any other inmates who might try to harm her while she was there. Sheriff Meyers would also make sure that his correctional officers would keep a very close eye on Clarissa and maintain strict confidence. She would be processed into their jail under an alias so no one would know she was there or who she was.

Chris Hayes sent me a picture message on my smart phone of Clarissa's booking photo. It was pathetic in every way imaginable. She was still a very pretty woman in all physical respects. But the photo was not of a young, vibrant or confident woman. It was a photo of a woman who had hit rock bottom and was now beginning to truly understand the consequences of her actions over the past two-plus years. Her eyes carried the terror and fears of all humanity and her face carried the expression of the hopeless and destitute.

In reality, her face reminded me of so many of the mug shots of the millions of women and men who had been processed into the thousands of jails across our country throughout history. Clarissa never wore the look of a criminal a day in her life but I couldn't help but notice how the booking photo instantly branded her with the image of a common crook. Ironically, the photo, in all its bleakness, also came to match the image in my mind of the woman that Clarissa had become ever since the start of her affair with Bud Roberts. It's funny how a simple photo can remind us that the line between the cream of society and the scourge of society is a thin one, indeed.

I had been planning to spend most of the weekend with my new fiancée, Shannon Sullivan and her amazing daughter Bridget. Following the incident with Clarissa's arrest, I had to stop out at the acreage to feed the horses and take care of a few other odds and ends. I didn't end up getting to Shannon's until shortly after 19:30, about the same time that Chris Hayes texted me Clarissa's booking photo.

I let myself in the front door of Shannon's small but cozy home and was greeted with the smell of a home cooked meal that reminded me instantly of so many meals made by my dear grandmother. Shannon and Bridget had just arrived home shortly before I did as Shannon's nursing shift in the ICU at Holy Family Medical Center didn't end until 19:00, after which she had to pick up Bridget from a friend's house where she went after school on the days Shannon had to work.

"Patrick!" shouted Bridget as she sprinted towards me from the kitchen.

"Hey, Bridget," I said, scooping her up for a big hug. "How are my two favorite girls in the whole wide world?"

"Great! I've been waiting all day to see you, Patrick. Wanna see my bug collection?"

"I would love to, sweetheart, but why are you collecting bugs in the middle of winter?"

"Me and mom caught the bugs last fall, silly!"

"Her teacher kept all the kids' bugs on display and finally sent them home today," Shannon explained as she moved in for a kiss. Her voice softened to a sultry tone as she smiled and said, "How are you, handsome?"

"Much better now," I said after the mouthwatering kiss.

"Bad day at work?"

"I'll explain after supper."

"Okay," she said, with a look of concern.

Bridget spent the next 20 minutes telling me all about her bug collection and her day in school, right up until Shannon put a heaping plate of meatballs and mashed potatoes on the table. I couldn't believe she could whip up such a comforting meal in such short order.

Turns out that Shannon likes to make five or six full meals on the weekend and then put them in the freezer so all she has to do is take them out and throw them in the oven to warm up. I could only hope to make the Sheriff's office run as efficiently as Shannon ran her household. It only reaffirmed that I had, indeed, picked a winner.

After supper, I helped Shannon and Bridget clear the table and did the majority of the dishes, which was the least I could do after a great meal. We played a board game, Bonkers, which Bridget absolutely loves. Then it was time for Bridget to head to bed and I got to read her a story. Tonight, it was "The Lorax" by Dr. Seuss.

With Bridget snuggled into bed, I met Shannon back out in the living room, where she was changed into pajama pants and a Minnesota State sweat shirt and sipping on a glass of juice.

"No wine, tonight?" I asked.

"Mmm. Not tonight, love. I have to work tomorrow and I promised Mindy Sutherland that I would be in for her by six. Mom's coming over early to pick up the munchkin and take her out to the ranch for the day."

"I see. I'm sure she'll have a blast."

"You're more than welcome to help yourself to a glass, though."

"I don't mind if I do," I said, heading to the kitchen and pouring myself a large glass of chardonnay. I'm not enough of a wine connoisseur to know which wine is which and when you're supposed to drink it - whether it is before, during or after a meal. But the peach chardonnay Shannon had was good, had alcohol in it and would suffice just fine for my simple tastes. I sat down next to Shannon on the couch and let out a long sigh, finally letting all the stress of the day and my first week as Sheriff off my shoulders.

"That was the sigh of a man who had a rough day. I thought everything was going pretty well so far."

"It is, for the most part," I said as I took a long sip of wine. "This afternoon changed things a bit, however."

"How so?"

I stared into Shannon's beautiful eyes and said, "I had Chris Hayes serve the papers to Clarissa this afternoon."

Shannon tensed up and became very apprehensive. "Oh, my God. It finally happened. You're really getting a divorce?" She grasped my left hand and I could feel her trembling. "This is really happening! We're really going to be together!" Tears started forming in her eyes and one streaked down her right cheek.

"Yes, we are, babe," I said, squeezing her hand tightly.

"How did she take it?"

I sighed deeply and closed my eyes. "It was pretty much a train wreck."

"How so? What happened?"

"You're not gonna believe me if I tell you."

"Sean Patrick Quinn! Don't do that to me. You can't start a story like this and not finish it. That's not fair," she admonished.

"Okay, okay. You're right. My day shift Lieutenant, Chris Hayes, was given the papers to serve this afternoon. When he gave her the papers, Clarissa totally freaked out on him - called him names, cursed at him, the whole nine yards. And then," I paused for dramatic effect, "she proceeded to slap him right across the face."

Shannon gasped in shock. "Oh, my God. You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm not. You should have seen how upset Chris was when he came back. He was absolutely beside himself."

"What happened next?"

"Well, if you must know," I started.

"Oh, don't tease me! Tell me what happened!"

"I sent Chris back out to the house along with my evening shift Lieutenant, Angel Ryerson and another Deputy by the name of Brad Lowe. I had them arrest Clarissa for assaulting a law enforcement officer."

Another gasp of shock. "Oh, my God! Are you kidding me? What in the world are you thinking?"

"What do you mean 'what am I thinking'?" I said, somewhat taken aback. "Clarissa assaulted one of my deputies. She's no different than anybody else. It was a totally unprovoked attack."