In the tradition of perhaps the most recognized police drama in media history: Dragnet, The story you are about to hear is true. Unlike Dragnet, however, the names in our story haven’t been changed, in an effort to protect the innocent taxpayer.
My name is Joe Friday and this is Cook County, known for its getaway appeal. We are a small community of just over five thousand inhabitants tucked into the north easternmost tip of the state of Minnesota, along an 80-mile stretch of Lake Superior’s craggy North Shore angling up to the Canadian border.
I work here… I’m a cop.
It was Labor Day, Monday, September 3rd, and a cool breeze knifed across the surface of the big lake as I headed toward 10 East Wisconsin Street for my daily rendezvous with a Skizzle and a cup of straight up black coffee; purchased at World’s Best, a five-generation donut shop that’s been serving up doughy delectables ever since the late sixties. Today happened to be the last day of their season before they closed for the winter months. The place was a beehive of activity.
I was actually on duty, working the day watch, when a woman–who looked like her cat had died–approached me. I pinched off a piece of Skizzle and sank it into the steaming cup of coffee.
“Can I help you ma’am?” I asked as I politely tipped the soft front brim of my fedora.
Clutching a bag of what I assumed to be powdered donuts–given the telltale powdered sugar encircling her lips–she skipped the usual small talk and [beleaguered] got right to her point.
“I noticed you are wearing a badge and figured you might be able to investigate, what I believe to be, a crime.”
“A crime? How so?”
“It’s just one thing on top of another,” she muttered in obvious distress.
“Just the facts, ma’am,” I stated in my iconic monotone delivery.
She pulled her sweater together and seated herself at one of the patio tables, “We can no longer afford to live in the home we built with our own hands. The increase in our tax burden has forced us to put it up for sale. Cook County commissioners are out of control on spending and they are not listening to the people who voted them into office in the first place. They are on a constant prowl for the little money we have left. It’s become the single greatest problem facing our family.”
Stopping to catch her breath, her pleading eyes looked directly up into mine, “These are tenuous times we live in, Sir.”
I told her I couldn’t just shove in a problem– push a few buttons–and produce instant answers. Some problems you can’t get quick answers for, no matter how much you want them. And, when it comes to reining in feckless government officials, I have found it to never be easy.
You walk your beat and try to pull together pieces of information. Most of the time, you’ll have few facts and a lot of hunches. But I know this, too: You want this cleared up with facts, not opinions.
I knew investigating the ins and outs of county government was going to be a thankless job . . . but it was a job that had to be done. Fortunately, I was going to have plenty of time to think about what she had said as I spend hours on duty in a lonely squad car, with nobody to talk to but my radio.
You end up reading board minutes and financial documents–many not worth the paper they were printed on–until your eyes ache. You write enough words in your lifetime to stock a library. You learn to live with doubt, anxiety, frustration . . . the going can be rough. It has to be–but it’s the best way to get at the truth she–and I assumed others–was looking for.
“They’re liable to give you a blank stare,” she said, “because they’ve been conditioned to ignore our pleas.”
“How do you ma’am?”
“They’ve all been schooled on what to say; alibis or justification for their actions. They’ve got it all down pat. They’ve shaken the confidence of those of us who believe in responsible, honest and transparent dealings. They seem to have thrown away a sense of the true values that built this county in the first place.”
“And what would those be, ma’am?”
“A fiercely independent, resourceful and proud people who remained resilient in our ability to keep moving forward in spite of challenges, rejection, setbacks, obstacles, and disappointments. But you can’t remain resilient without resources!”
She was passionate and convincing. I couldn’t disagree.
What about conscience? I thought to myself, as I watched a lone seagull light on a nearby roof . . . Or did they throw “that” away, too?
Dum- da- dum- dum- DAH!
(Stay tuned for Episode 2 next week)
Former Cook County Commissioner Garry Gamble is writing this ongoing column about the various ways government works, as well as other topics.
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