“Sir, I will admit,” said James, “that we weren’t aware of that and thought Sheriff Johnson had won the seat easily.”
“Nope, didn’t happen like that at all. I won’t get into the details, but without my help he would be begging for work right now.
“This brings me to my point. I have the support of the town, as do both of you. That’s the one thing that really matters moving forward. I probably should have just let Mr. Grimes win and not let the Sheriff han...”
He caught himself and paused before continuing.
“The bottom line, gentlemen, is that something has to change, and pretty damn quick if we’re going to save this town. Either the Sheriff is going to have to stop listening to that conniving girlfriend of his or we are going to need a new Sheriff. It’s simple as that.
“James, just between us, if the position of Sheriff of Weston were to become available soon, would you consider working with me at that level? Don’t answer now. Just think it over,” he said, standing to leave. “Tell Janice thank you for the coffee, and I’ll be in touch. It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen.”
“What’s that about?” asked Jason as the Judge got into his truck.
“I don’t know,” replied James, “but can you unlock the gate for him.”
Judge Lowry drove through the opened gate with a straight face, but a grin came over him, rising high on his cheeks, as he drove on down the road. His employee was right; he suddenly felt much better having spoken with James.
He sang an old Wille Nelson song loud, with the windows down.
On the road again
I just can’t wait to get on the road again. The life I love is makin’ music with my friends
And I can’t wait to get on the road again...
On the road again
Goin’ places that I’ve never been
Seein’ things that I may never see again
And I can’t wait to get on the road again….”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Forty-one
Weston, Colorado
The Judge slowed, seeing an old Ford Bronco he recognized. As he passed, he saw that the driver’s door read “Weston Police.” He did a half-wave at the officer in the driver’s seat as he drove slowly past.
Wonder what a Sheriff’s vehicle is doing out here this time of the morning? he thought.
He instinctively looked in his rearview, even though he hadn’t been speeding. For a moment there was nothing, but he could see the man on his radio. Then the lights, followed by the siren, and the Bronco sped up behind him.
“What the hell is this about?” he said aloud, not pulling over.
Another half mile with the deputy on his bumper and the call came over the loudspeaker. “Pull over! Pull your vehicle to the side of the road!” came the second warning.
The Judge was furious. Everyone in town knew his red truck with the license plate reading JDG-LRY. “They know better than to mess with me,” he said aloud, as he increased his speed.
Passing a second patrol car on his right, it joined in and gave chase. The Judge felt a bit like those cousins, Bo and Luke Duke, known as the Duke Boys of Hazzard County.
They would run from the bumbling Sheriff and would almost always get away.
“Let’s see if you can keep up, boys,” the Judge shouted, stomping on the gas. His speedometer slowly rose from 30 to 40, and up to 75 before a third deputy joined the chase.
“Boss,” called the lead deputy closest behind Judge Lowry’s truck over the radio.
“You got ’im yet?” asked the Sheriff.
“No, sir, he’s running, but we’ve got three cars on him. He won’t be getting away, not today.”
With the gas pedal all the way to the floor, the Judge’s old truck shook back and forth as the speedometer hit 105. He had never been this fast in any vehicle and was surprised the old truck could even clock over 100 miles per hour.
All three cars followed chase, single file. It’s a good thing we had the roads cleared a few weeks back, Judge Lowry thought.
“Where’s he headed?” asked the Sheriff, wishing he could see the chase firsthand.
“He’s headed west on county road 31.9, and we just turned north on Big Pine Ridge Road. You should have seen him take the corner! He slowed quite a bit but almost lost it in a fishtail! You want me to try the PIT before he gets going too fast again?”
The PIT maneuver, as it was called in law enforcement, was the act of getting the chase car alongside the perpetrator, near his rear tire, and giving the lighter end of the vehicle a tap to throw it off course. It was potentially a deadly, almost last, resort to stop a vehicle and not seen nearly as much as one might imagine from years of chase movies. It’s the highest level of chase maneuvers after the Uncontrolled Contact maneuver, where one or multiple law enforcement vehicles ram a car until it stops.
“Yeah, give the PIT one shot, but keep it slow. I don’t want him killed,” the Sheriff called out. “Not yet, that is,” he whispered inside the jailhouse.
The lead deputy got on the side of the truck fast. “Pull over!” he called out one more time over the speaker, wanting to give him a last chance at ending this before someone got hurt.
The Judge put his left hand out his driver’s side window and flipped the deputy his middle finger.
“Have it your way, sir.” The deputy prepared to tap the truck just behind the left rear wheel. “Slow down, boys,” he called and then followed with “Here she goes.”
The tap was more of a grinding sound of metal and the truck’s back
