This story includes group, interracial and rough sex. If that's not your thing, you should probably go read something else instead of suffering through this and then complaining about it later.
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Robert Jackson was a shop foreman in a local auto assembly plant and I was a sergeant in the Cleveland Police Department. My name is Rebecca, but everyone calls me Becky. I started in the department right out of college, and being a black female at the end of the affirmative action years, I was promoted quickly through the ranks to sergeant at the young age of 31.
I always enjoyed my job, even when I was on foot patrol in the neighborhoods and on traffic patrol. Now, as a sergeant, I had several others reporting to me. Things were going pretty well for my husband and I, and then along came the Coronavirus or the Wuhan Virus or Covid 19 or Kung Flu or whatever it's being called this week. Being a necessary worker, while my husband sat at home watching television, was OK with me. It was what came afterwards that changed my life.
It all started on May 25, 2020 when a dirty cop murdered George Floyd in Minneapolis. Peaceful protests began in major cities all over the country and Cleveland was no different than many others. Although there was some tension, the crowds and the police were respectful of each other and maintained an appropriate distance away from each other. At first, the protests were peaceful, respectful and legitimate. And then the white supremists, BLM and other agitators arrived and it all went to hell.
I was working 12 hour days trying to keep the peace in her city. The supremists all called me 'nigger,' and 'whore.' BLM all called me 'Uncle Tom' and 'traitor.' I could live with that as long as they were peaceful, and for the most part, they were. And then the rioters and looters arrived and things changed.
Over a two week period, I was hit, kicked, spit on called names and hit with debris by both white and black rioters. Finally, I ended up getting separated from my battalion while trying to control some of the rioters and was dragged into an alley where a group of black men savagely beat me, stole my gun and left me cuffed to a trash dumpster.
When I regained consciousness, my screams for help were answered by some black looters who stripped me from my uniform, beat me more, took pictures and then left my unconscious naked body cuffed to the dumpster.
I spent almost four hours in the alley before the police were able to rescue me. I spent almost a week in the hospital and when I was released, I decided that I had had enough of the big city.
While recovering at home, I searched the internet for law enforcement positions and decided to apply for the Chief of Police in the small village of Springfield Mississippi. Springfield had a population of just over 3,500 and a five person force, including the chief. Even though there were very few black people in Springfield, the Mayor decided that it was time to integrate his police force so I appeared to be perfect for the job.
From my perspective, the job paid significantly more money and my husband was able to get a supervisor's job in a nearby stamping plant. The weather was warmer, the community was smaller and the position appeared to be made for me.
Robert was scheduled to begin his new job in early August, but I was to start in July. We decided that I would move and start my new job and Bob would wrap things up and sell our house in Cleveland.
My first day was spent meeting the other officers in my department and getting a tour of the community. Even though I was one of only a few blacks in the area, everyone was very nice to me and welcomed me to the community. A young patrolman named Mark drove me around the area during the afternoon and when they were at the edge of the town, I asked about a rundown bar with an old sign lying on the ground. The sign said, "Johnny Reb's Bar" and it looked like the place had been closed for years.
Mark said, "You probably don't want to go there, Chief. That's a rough and rowdy bar and they're not, uh . . . well, uh . . . "
"Come on, Mark. Just say it."
"Well, uh . . . they don't much like black people Ma'am."
"Oh really," I said. "Well, I'll keep that in mind."
We finished the tour and then Becky went back to her apartment.
During the next two weeks, I became familiarized with the community and met many people, none of whom were black. Even though I was the only black person around, I thought everyone had been kind and supportive of me and was looking forward to Bob getting there in a couple weeks. He had called two days ago and told me that their house sold and he was in the process of packing things for the move in a couple weeks.
I decided that I would take a turn in the shift rotation so I could see what the town was like during the evening, late night and early morning. My shift started at 11:00 and at 11:30 I had a call about a fight at Johnny Reb's Bar. I knew I should call for backup but I felt that the way I had been treated so far, and my martial arts training made me more than capable of responding to the call.
When I got to the parking lot, I saw a couple big men helping another man up from the ground. As I was getting out of my car, the men helped the man back towards the bar. I yelled, "Wait! Stop right there."
The men ignored my and continued into the bar. I ran after them and into the bar. When I stepped inside, I looked around and saw the two combatants sitting at a table. Their clothes were torn and one of them had a bloody nose. I also saw that there were about a dozen big men wearing coveralls, tee shirts and ball caps in the bar. Most of the men were fat, ugly, with greasy hair, smelled and most were missing some teeth. A Confederate flag adorned the wall and the whole place smelled like beer, cigarettes and piss.
I walked over to the two men and said, "OK, what happened?" Neither man spoke so I asked again, "I said, what happened?" They continued to ignore me and just as I was about to ask again, I noticed several other men closing in behind me.
One of the men said, "Hey nigger. What are you doing in our bar?" He stepped close to me and smiled at me. He was missing half his teeth and the rest were yellowed from smoking.
"Stay back," I said as I removed my night stick from my belt. The man continued forward and reached out to touch me. I swung the night stick knocking him backwards onto his ass. AS another man grabbed my arm, I spun and hit his shoulder with the stick knocking him against the wall. I quickly spun and hit a third man knocking him unconscious. At that point, two of the men finally subdued me and a third removed my night stick and planted it into my stomach. The wind was knocked from my lungs as another man swept my legs knocking me to the floor.
