Here's another mother and son story for you. Unlike the Soccer Mom series, this is a standalone but also a slow burn. I hope you enjoy it.
And I guess I should say that before the radio jargon is questioned by anyone, I can tell you from experience that it's real. I was a 911 dispatcher for 5-1/2 years. This is exactly how they talk.
DISCLAIMER: The two main characters are both adults, 24 and 46. No one under 18 is involved in sexual activity.
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Officer Josh Miller sat in his patrol vehicle one Friday evening enjoying his dinner and typing up his latest report. It had been a relatively quiet evening, consisting mostly of a few traffic stops, some noise complaints, and a couple minor scuffles at different bars. Those happened between local residents and drunk football fans of the opposing team in town for Saturday's college game. He only had a couple hours until the end of his shift.
He finished typing up his report then stepped out of the brand-new Ford Interceptor SUV to stretch his legs. He looked over the vehicle with a smile, admiring the sleek dark paint job and the shadow decals adorning the sides of it. He felt thankful for being one of the officers chosen to use one of the new vehicles their department had recently acquired. After locking the door, he spoke into his lapel mike.
"Comm, 210, walking patrol."
"210, proceed."
"The 500 block of Bryan Street."
"10-4, 210."
Josh proceeded down the street, nodding and waving at a few of the residents who were either out walking themselves or sitting out on their porches. He enjoyed these walking patrols, thankful for the new police chief who wanted the number of them increased. After a survey had been taken by the town council, it was determined that the majority of the town residents appreciated it.
As Josh was nearing the end of his walking patrol, he heard the dispatcher over the radio, "201 and 202?"
His fellow officers replied with their unit numbers.
"201 and 202, 314 Edgemont Street for a welfare check, neighbor stating that the front door has been wide open for an hour with no sign of the resident, no further information, 314 Edgemont Street."
The two officers acknowledged as Josh quickly climbed into his SUV. He immediately keyed up his radio, "Comm, 210, put me on that call."
"10-4, 210."
Josh quickly drove towards the address that was a few blocks away, an address that had significance to him. It was his mother Joanna's address.
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As Josh rushed to his mother's house, he had a strong feeling about what he was going to find there. And he didn't like that feeling very much at all.
After his father Brett passed away from a work accident when Josh was 16, his mother Joanna had fallen into a deep depression that kept her locked up in their house for weeks. He had begged his mom to talk to someone, whether it be a therapist, a clergyman, a friend, or even Josh himself.
Thankfully the guidance counselor at his high school was well liked by the students, as well as a licensed psychologist. Dr. Brady told Josh that her door was always open for him if he needed to talk. And he took advantage of that opportunity, seeing her on a weekly basis to help him deal with his grief. She had even given him names of respected therapists in town for Joanna to see.
When Josh finally told Joanna that giving up on her life also meant giving up on his, she did what she needed to do to get her life back on track. She began attending therapy, both one-on-one and groups. She went back to work as a paralegal. She started eating healthier and exercising regularly. Joanna turned her life around, becoming the strong mother that Josh needed her to be.
Joanna made sure that Josh knew how much she appreciated him for getting her back on her feet. She devoted her free time to making sure he had everything he needed to be successful as he approached adulthood. With all that support, Josh graduated in the top 5% of his class and received an academic scholarship to attend the local university where he studied criminal justice.
Not wanting to be far from his mom for fear of her slipping into depression again, he applied for their hometown's police department at 21 after graduating college, and he was promptly hired after acing the written and physical exams. But now, he was possibly facing his worst nightmare after three years of being a cop. Josh kept whispering to himself as he drove, "Be okay, Mom, be okay."
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Josh pulled up to Joanna's house, throwing the SUV into park and jumping out. He was the first officer there, having been only a few blocks away. He keyed up his mike, "Comm, 210 on-scene."
"10-4, 210."
Josh moved towards the front door, unsnapping his holster and placing his palm on the butt of his service pistol. The interior was dark except for the kitchen towards the rear of the house. Stopping at the open front door, he spoke out loudly while maintaining his professionalism, "Police department, anyone home?" He only heard silence, so he tried again, "Police, I'm entering the house. Speak out if you're home."
Josh stepped into the familiar foyer, fighting back his emotions as he saw the various pictures of his family hanging on the wall. He heard a car pull up outside, so he quickly looked out to see Tim Owens step out of unit 201. Tim looked towards Josh, who gestured for the other officer to go around back. He nodded and headed that way.
