Baggs McAlister (Jacobs Trouble 1)

     I stared down the site of my 9mm Glock. After two and half months of relentless pursuit, I finally had Terrance Jacobs just where I wanted him. Jacobs squirmed around in the dust below a giant oak, like a snake with a broken back. I focused so intently on the red dot stamped into my gun site that my squirming target seemed to blur in and out of focus as he writhed in pain just four feet away. 

“You can’t shoot me McAlister,” Jacobs screamed out, as his eyes widened with panic.

I let out a snort. “I can’t? Looks to me like I already have.”

  Jacobs eyes scrolled quickly down his own body to his right thigh. He gripped his leg tightly with both hands trying to stop the flow of black blood that puddled beneath him in the dirt. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Jacobs paused, “But you can’t kill me. You're a cop and cops have to play by the rules. Besides that, they will see.” 

  Jacobs eyes turned upward to the sky behind me. I could feel the swirling wind being churned by the blades of the county police chopper above my back. I’d tuned out the noisy chopping it made as it cut the air above. Unflinching, I kept the gun trained on Jacobs’ head.
     “I get a trial, a jury of my peers. I have the right to remain silent. You know, all that jazz man. Even a piece of trash like me has a right to a fair trial. That’s the beauty of this great country McAlister.”

  Jacobs laughed and coughed in between wheezes of pain. I cocked the hammer back on the Glock. Its chrome slide gleamed in the hot afternoon sun.

  “You think that’s what Jenny Greene got, a fair trial? What was fair about that Terrance?”

  “Oh, were on a first name basis now Baggs? Isn’t it special how we’ve grown so close over the last few weeks.”     
     Jacobs tried to laugh but just let out another cough. 

  “You got one thing right for sure Jacobs,” I hesitated for a moment, “wait make that two.”

  “And what’s that Baggs - Baggins - or whatever your cop buddies call you, McAlister.”

  “One, you definitely are a piece of trash Jacobs.”

  “And?” Jacobs questioned as he lifted his head toward me exhausted, still gripping his thigh in pain.

  “And two, you do have right to remain silent. Forever.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the still hovering chopper for an instant. Returning my gaze slowly to the ragged bleeding man lying on the ground in front of me, I squeezed the trigger. The muzzle flash obscured my view of Terrance Jacobs as his head slammed rearward into the dirt, like a tiny splash in an ocean of regret.