Autumn - 1. All I'm Thinking About

“Hello, this is César.”

“Da… da… Dad?”

“CJ? What’s wrong? You ok, bud?”

“I’m… I’m in jail.”

“WHAT? WHERE?”

“Arlington… Please get me out of here… I swear I didn’t do anything. He just…”

“Hey, hey… calm down, buddy. I believe you. If you say you didn’t do anything, I’m sure you didn’t do anything. I’m leaving right now. I’m coming to get you. Hang in there, everything will be okay. Papa and I will make sure of it.” César’s anxiety over CJ’s predicament would have been obvious to any observer; his attempt to remain unruffled was barely successful. As he was hanging up, he was pushing his chair back from his desk and opening its top drawer. He grabbed his cell phone, wallet, and keys and quickly headed out his office door―he didn’t bother to take his suit jacket.

“Gotta go, family emergency,” he mumbled as he hurried past his secretary and the receptionist. Both gave him questioning looks, as he fumbled with his phone. The man frantically tried to call his husband as he ran down the stairs, too hyper to wait for the elevator. The ride to Arlington would take between fifteen and thirty minutes, but Brett could be there faster. How the fuck did CJ end up in jail?

“Captain Davenport.”

“Babe, CJ’s been arrested. He’s in jail in Arlington. I’m on my way, but you’re closer, and can get there faster? I have no idea what’s going on. Can you call Rashid and ask for help? I’m gonna call Senator Rubio’s office and do the same. I’m sure our kid did nothing that would get him that kind of trouble. This has to be a mistake and—”

“César! Dude, you’ve gotta slow down a bit. We’ll get our boy out of there but if you get into an accident, and get hurt, it’ll make matters worse. Make your call before you start driving. I’ll ask the Colonel for help and call Rashid. Then I’ll head over to Arlington. Everything will be okay, I promise.”

CJ had not been officially arrested. He was detained for allegedly exposing his genitals and grabbing those of the apprehending officer while propositioning him for sex. The small forested section behind the Iwo Jima Memorial had, for many years, been a cruising area for the local gay community. Not as popular these days, most likely due to the proliferation of smartphone apps providing easy sexual connections, it still saw some action. Both the Arlington Police Department and National Park Rangers monitored the site for any illegal behavior.

The Police Department frequently assigned Vice Squad officers to the area, to deter sexual activities, in such proximity to a favorite tourist destination. The two officers detailed on this day, bored due to inaction, decided to create an arrest opportunity when they saw a guy jogging towards their position. The rainbow bandana around his head made them assume the young man was gay.

“Brett, my secretary said it was an emergency, what’s going on?” Rashid Kahn was in his office at Holland and Knight, one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. He had told his close group of friends, the Elite Eight as they called themselves, to ring him at any time; his secretary had a list with their names, and she’d been asked to always put their call through. If they felt it was an urgent matter, she could even interrupt a meeting with clients.

“Hey, Rash, sorry to bother you, but we need some help. I just got off the phone with César. He had a call from CJ telling him he’d been arrested and was in jail.” Brett was often the more impetuous of the two men in the relationship; this time, Rashid noticed how calm he sounded. The attorney was certain his friend was drawing on his Marine Corps training, doing what needed to be done, while keeping his emotions under control. “I’m not sure what’s going on. I can’t imagine that boy doing anything to get himself arrested, but I think we’re gonna need some legal assistance.”

“Bugger me! I bet you it’s all a mistake. We need one of the criminal guys, let me see who’s in the office and I’ll start the ball rolling. The big boss is gonna want to be in on this. You and César are good clients.”

“Thanks, buddy. I’m going to give the Colonel a heads up, and head over to Arlington. Text me as soon as you have something for me. I’ll be on the bike, so I won’t be able to answer the phone, but I'll reply as soon as I'm able to.”

I sounded like a pussy when I talked to Dad. Shit! Probably scared the crap out of him. Why did I have to act like a scared little boy?

At the Iwo Jima Memorial, CJ was patted down by the cop who stood him up after he’d been cuffed. He was told he was being arrested for public indecency; he’d supposedly tried to grope the arresting officer. When he tried to object, he was told resisting arrest would be added to the charges if he didn’t shut up.

That fucker enjoyed feeling me up. His damn hands spent too much time on my crotch and my ass.

The patrol car had been waiting around the curve of the memorial’s driveway, on the other side of the forested section of the park. After CJ had been detained, the vehicle was driven around to collect the boy. Before he was placed in the back seat of the vehicle, they had asked him for identification. He admitted he had none on him. Following the initial take-down, the officers were somewhat polite to him.

I can’t leave the house without my school id anymore. I need to get used to carrying it with me at all times. At least until I get my driver’s license.

CJ gave them his name, his age, and his address. He was nervous and a bit scared, but he was certain his dads would take care of the assholes when they found out what was happening. Some of the tourists walking around the area, few at that time of day, held their phones up, taking either pictures or videos. The officers were careful not to say or do anything which could later be incriminating. Those recordings were most likely the reason for their politeness.

First time looking older is a problem. They don’t believe I’m fifteen, and in high school. They’d probably let me go if they knew.

“Hola César, my secretary said it was an emergency? What can I do to help you? Is something wrong with CJ?” Alberto Velasco was in his office, at the Russell Senate Office Building. Senator Rubio’s chief of staff was surprised when told CJ’s father was calling. Mr. Velasco had enjoyed having the boy around during his two-week internship and was aware the Senator wanted to cultivate a relationship with both of his fathers. He didn’t hesitate to take the call.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Alberto. I just had a call from CJ, letting me know he’d been arrested and is being held at the police headquarters in Arlington. He swears he did nothing wrong, and I believe him. I’m headed over there now, to figure out what’s going on. Do you think someone in your office could call the Arlington Police Department on our behalf? Maybe they’ll be easier to talk to when I get there, knowing a Senator is concerned about someone in their custody.”

“I’d believe CJ also, César. That kid is solid. I’ll call the Chief of Police myself, and get back to you as soon as I have any information about what’s going on.”

Fucking steroided out freak! Damn, now I’m getting mad. He’s probably a self-hating, closet-case homo!

As they placed him in the police car, CJ tried, but failed to convince the arresting officers of his age. The Asian one wouldn’t acknowledge the possibility the guy he had handcuffed, was not at least eighteen years old.

After arriving at the police station, CJ was un-cuffed and allowed to put his t-shirt back on. The lightweight gray shirt, with the NASA logo, felt uncomfortable to the boy. It smelled of dried sweat and dirt. He was allowed to make a phone call and then placed in a room with a table and a couple of chairs.

His partner’s not much better. Damn coward didn’t say much but went along with the arrest. Phew! I smell like shit, I need a shower or at least a clean shirt. I bet that large mirror is there so they can look at me from the other side, like in the TV shows. Damn, I’m pissed, Dad better get here soon.

“Colonel? Sorry to barge in, sir.” Brett had finished his conversation with Rashid, grabbed his lid, helmet, and motorcycle jacket from the coat rack by the door, and walked the few steps to Colonel Edwards’ office.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” Brett’s CO moved his unlit cigar from one side of his mouth to the other but didn’t bother looking up from the file he was reading.

“Colonel, my husband just called, our kid’s been arrested and is being held at the Arlington Police Department.”

“CJ? Arrested?” Ray Edwards’ head snapped up at the news.

“That’s what César said, sir. I’d like permission to leave, so I can go get my kid.” Brett knew it wouldn’t have been an issue if he had left, and explained the reason why at a later time. His training, however, made him ask for permission before leaving his post.

“What the hell are you still doing here, Marine? Go get your boy, I’m calling the Chief of Police over there right now.”

Brenton Jacobs, Arlington’s Chief of Police, had been in his position for four years. His proximity to Washington, and the Pentagon, had brought him in contact with politicos, military brass, and assorted VIPs, on more than one occasion. The call from the Partner in Charge at Holland and Knight was, therefore, not a big surprise.

“Chief Jacobs here. How may I help you, counselor?”

After listening for a couple of minutes, the Chief turned toward his computer and logged in.

“And you say we have him in custody? And he’s a minor? That would be highly irregular. His name is César Marcos Abelló, Jr.? Is the last name spelled with two Ls? Hang on a minute…”

The Chief scanned the list of individuals arrested by the department and found none under the name provided by the attorney.

“Sir? I have no records of anyone by that name being arrested. He could be in detention, and not yet processed. If I could put you on hold, I’d be happy to check with the Sergeant at the front desk. He’ll be able to tell me if anyone by that name has been brought in.”

Before Jacobs could dial the Sergeant’s extension, a second line in his office rang.

“Chief Jacobs here, how may I help you?” The Chief’s eyes opened wide when the caller identified himself. “What can I do for you, Colonel Edwards?” The man listened to the caller and felt somewhat surprised at the coincidence. “Colonel, I have an attorney on hold who called to inquire about the same individual. I found no record of his arrest and was just about to see one of my officers, to find out if Mr. Abelló had been detained, and not yet processed. Could I put you on hold for a couple of minutes?”

As Jacobs pushed back from his desk, ready to go see about this guy in person, a third line rang in his office.

“What the heck’s going on? If this is another big shot… Chief Jacobs here, how may I help you?” As he listened, the Chief realized something was terribly wrong. The chief of staff for a United States Senator was calling to inquire about the same individual? “Mr. Velasco, you’re the third person in the last few minutes who’s called to inquire about Mr. Abelló. I have the other two gentlemen on hold. Could I have them join our conversation?”

The managing partner of a big law firm, a Colonel at the Pentagon, and the chief of staff of a United States senator, calling about the same person; this guy, whoever he was, had some serious clout. “Thank you, sir. Please hold one minute.” The Chief tried to relax, as he thought about how to handle the situation. He connected all the callers and introduced each of them.

“Gentlemen, I apologize for not having an answer for you right now. You’re all calling about the same person, someone supposedly arrested by our department. An individual by the name of César Marcos Abelló, Jr.?”

“That would be correct; the young man goes by CJ. My office represents his family, and I will personally be the attorney handling his case.” The Chief realized this guy’s family must generate a lot of revenues for the law office, to warrant the personal involvement of the head guy.

“Can any of you confirm this individual is a minor?”

“Chief, the boy was an intern in Senator Rubio’s office this summer. He’s a high school student.” Alberto Velasco sounded almost happy to be on the line. Brenton had a feeling the politico was happy to help a well-connected family and to have others aware he was doing it.

“That is correct. My wife’s the principal at School Without Walls High School―CJ’s a student there. One of his fathers, Captain Brett Davenport, is a senior member of my staff. He’s on his way to your headquarters as we speak.”

The “one of his fathers” comment was heard loud and clear by the Chief. The possibility of every gay rights organization in the area coming down on his department added another dimension to this problem. And the Chief realized it was a big problem already.

“If you’ll allow me, I’d like to place you on hold, transfer your calls, and have my assistant get your contact information. I’ll deal with this matter personally, and will get back to you as soon as possible.” After putting his phone’s headset on the cradle, Brenton Jacobs walked out of his office, stopped at his assistant’s desk, gave him instructions, and then headed towards the booking area hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.

“Hey, Tommy, it’s César. Please call me back as soon as you can. CJ’s been arrested. He’s at the Arlington Police Department and I’m headed there now.” César wasn’t sure if Detective Tom Kennedy could help in any way, but being a member of the D.C. police department, maybe he knew someone in Arlington.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” The Chief’s shout in the middle of the large, central room startled everyone in it. All activity ceased, heads looked up, and questioning looks were exchanged.

“You!” He stared at the officer closest to him. “Has anyone brought in a young man claiming to be a minor?” The somewhat startled cop nodded his head, and unconsciously looked towards two detectives, wearing casual attire, sitting a few desks away.

“Oh shit, not you two again.” He pointed his arm in the direction of the two men singled out by their fellow cop, closed his fingers except for the middle and index ones, and used those to summon the detectives.

The officers walked toward him, one appearing somber while the other one smiled. “In my office NOW, sit down, and don’t say a thing until I tell you to.” The muscular, smiling one opened his mouth to say something and was interrupted before he could utter a sound. “Didn’t you hear me, asshole? I told you not to say a thing. Go sit the fuck down, and wait until I return. I’m guessing you’re up to your old tricks. Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, it seems. I’ll deal with you, as soon as I clean up your crap.”

The Chief turned back to the young officer he’d previously spoken to. “Where did they put the guy they brought in?” He pointed at one of the detention rooms without saying a word once again. “I’m going to talk to him. If a Marine Captain, most likely pissed off to no end, walks in before I return, bring him to me. His name’s Davenport―treat him as if he was the fucking President of the United States.”

By now the room was buzzing with whispered conversation, the Chief took a look around, and went to meet the young man so many hot shots were interested in. Brenton knocked on the door and walked right in.

“Hi, I’m Brenton Jacobs. I’m Arlington’s Chief of Police, and I’ll guess you’re CJ?”

Brett created his own parking space in front of the Arlington Police Headquarters, by backing up his Harley, between two cars occupying properly marked spots. Out of habit, he turned the throttle a couple of times, shut down the engine, fished the keys out of his jacket’s pocket, turned the front wheel towards the left, and locked the forks in place. Forcing himself to remain calm, he kept reminding himself blowing up in anger would do no good at this time. He removed his helmet and leather jacket, placed both on the motorcycle’s seat, properly seated his lid on his head, and adjusting his uniform, walked towards the building’s entrance.

“Sir, you’re not allowed to park there.” The police officer had materialized out of nowhere, Brett thought he was probably walking the beat around the building. “You need to move your―”

“Officer, please keep an eye on my bike.” Brett spoke to the man, using the drill instructor tone of voice, which seems to come naturally to so many Marine officers. It generally brought about immediate obedience from those it was directed at. “I’m here to see the chief of police, I don’t expect to be inside very long.” Not giving the cop a chance to reply, he walked through the glass door into the building’s lobby.

“Captain Davenport?” Brett heard his name called out as soon as he stepped inside the doors of the building. Turning towards the voice, he saw a cop motioning to him indicating the Marine should walk around the security apparatus, bypassing the metal detector. “This way, sir, please follow me. The Chief asked I bring you to him when you arrived.” The two men walked down a short corridor, towards a door marked as detention room B, the cop knocked twice, opened it, and motioned for the Marine to walk in.

“Papa!” exclaimed CJ seeing his father walk in. He pushed his chair back and rushed to give the blond man with the high and tight haircut a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Are you okay, buddy? What the hell happened?”

“I’m okay. I was scared before. Now, I’m just pissed!”

“Captain Davenport, I’m Chief Brenton Jacobs. I’m sorry we get to meet under these circumstances. I’ve been―”

“Excuse me one second, Chief.” Brett gave the cop a cursory glance before returning his attention to his son. “CJ, do you have your phone with you?”

“No, sir, I left it at home when I went out for my run.”

“Here, use mine. Call your father and let him know I’m here with you. Now, Chief, you were saying?” The frosty tone in Brett’s voice most likely left no doubt in the Chief’s mind the man was not in the best of moods.

“Captain, I think my Police Department may owe your family an apology. I’ve been talking with your son for a few minutes, getting him to tell me his side of the events. I suspect a couple of my officers got carried away when they brought your boy in. I want you to know he’s not been arrested, and there will be no record of his detention.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. I have a feeling an apology will be just the first step. Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Excuse me,” said CJ, interrupting the police officer as he was about to reply, and handing the phone back to his father. “Dad says he’ll be outside in five minutes, and for us to be waiting for him. He said it’s an emergency.”

“I guess our conversation will have to wait, Chief. But you can be certain, we will be talking again. I’m not sure what happened, but whatever it was, I’m certain my son didn’t do anything wrong to warrant your department’s involvement. That’s a good kid there.”

“Let me walk you out, Captain. I plan on speaking with the officers involved right after you leave. I’ll have a report drafted as soon as possible, and share it with you. Several people called concerning your son and I need to get the same information back to them. Could I have an email address to contact you?”

“You can use mine, sir. It’s cjabello1997@gmail.com.”

The Chief drew out a pad and pen from his shirt pocket and wrote on it, as he replied to the teenager. “Good enough, CJ, I’ll send it there.”

“Hey! There’s dad’s car now.” CJ pointed towards César’s black Cadillac Escalade coming to a stop in front of them. The boy’s father stopped the car and jumped out without turning off the ignition.

“CJ! Are you okay, bud?” The boy was being held by the shoulders by his father who appeared to be inspecting him trying to ensure nothing was wrong with his son.

“Yeah, just pissed I didn’t get to finish my run. I knew I’d done nothing wrong, I calmed down after I called you.”

“Hey, babe,” Brett said, giving his husband a small hug. “Chief, this is my husband César Abelló. César, this is Brenton Jacobs, Arlington’s chief of police.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir. Sorry for being rude but we need to get out of here. A close friend of ours, a police detective in D.C., has been shot―”

CJ's eyes went wide. “UNCLE TOMMY’S BEEN SHOT?”

“Yeah, JP called, he was on his way to GW hospital. All I know is he’s alive.”

“CJ, get my jacket and the helmets. Chief, that’s my motorcycle, I’ll come back to get it later.”

“Go! I’ll make sure it’s safe. I may see you at the hospital. If a fellow officer’s been shot, he’ll have visitors and the support of all the departments in the area.”

“LET’S GO, DAD. Now! Screw Arlington, Uncle Tommy’s all I’m thinkin’ about.”