Sunday, May 14, 2017

Detective Darias Adams' Anti-Capitalist Rage

Dallas police detective Darius Adams had always lived his life by the rules. Even as a small child he chose "the straight and narrow" with great pride and to be a servant of the community was the lynchpin of his existence. This fed his soul and by having a sense of purpose took great relish in the feeling his life had meaning. But over time, he began to think, to question, and ultimately, to fear.

Detective Adams took great comfort in institutions of the world. A right-wing Baptist who saw the world in a convenient black and white, he was out to catch the bad guys and bring order to the world. But he noticed one thing: the bad guys were almost always poor. He rationalized that by telling himself they're poor because they are bad. The system is good and fair and if they'd be a part of it they too could prosper like he does. It's a system worth protecting, to give my life for.

To see "the cheaters" prosper irked him to no end. Drug dealers with better cars and better homes than any officer was an outrage. How is it the bad guys can live better than the good guys? That turned his world upside down. But another inconvenient feeling crept in, one of condescending attitudes from the upper class whites who felt the police were their own private security force, that his life was somehow worth less. Over time, their gushing praise rang more and more hollow.

These things he tried to push down and push aside. He blamed his misery on "liberals who don't understand." They were out to strip the meaning from his life, to make him out to be simply a puppet. He'd hoped that by moving up in rank and gaining power in the force he'd feel less like a puppet and more like a man but that hope was crushed over time by finding himself only deeper in the trap that is politics. He'd learned to eat verbal dog food with a smile, wondering who he was in the middle of the night. What had started out as a pea under his mattress had turned into a boulder.

A family, of course, made things all the more complicated. Detective Adams' growing sense he was a fraud strained the household. How could his children respect a liar? What if he lost the worship of his wife? His entire life could unravel. All the hearty handshakes from the movers-and-shakers or forceful applause from the congregation couldn't change his inner doubt. I have to believe in the world! And damn anyone who doesn't!

He portrayed his rage as outrage, society's moral guardian. He needed the crutch of this excuse as he continually failed to quell his inner doubts about his life. Somebody had to be blamed. Couldn't be him! He chose the straight and narrow! But the universe saw only his soul hurting and decided to rectify it. That's when his oldest son became desperately ill.

Darius had dutifully swallowed the lie that health insurance meant health care. But his odyssey into reality caused him tears he could not bear on top of all his other woes. The expenses were more than he could keep up with. He was daylight drowning without anyone taking notice. Was the world abandoning him? Surely not! Not a good guy! But the nightmare didn't stop just because he'd reached the end of his rope. It just kept on coming and coming, like a runaway train headed right for his home.

Detective Adams cried tears more bitter than he ever thought possible. To be so cruelly helpless! To have no one he can beseech! Oh, why doesn't Jesus come from the sky to save me? He'd gone from having all the answers - so sure of himself at community town halls! - to having no answers whatsoever; empty. He was nothing more than a marooned soul on a cold dark planet, forced to watch his son slowly die, unable to pray his way off the cross. The magnitude of the illusion of his life forced him to consider looking at the barrel end of his pistol. What's the point of anything?

No God 3

To stay is to play. If his son died then the world has no meaning. If the world has no meaning, his life has no meaning. If nothing can possibly have meaning, why the fuck go on? "Go fuck Yourself, God! Where are You when I need You?" But the inconsolable misery had to cease. Police detective Darius Adams must make his own reality. He knew where to get money. Yes, he knew his story was a cliché for ripping off criminals, but his was different. His entire existence was at stake.

The detective had nightmares just from thinking about. He also had nightmares of his son's funeral. I just can't fucking believe these are my only two choices! How can this world be so evil? Yes, it's not perfect, but it can't be like this. Suicide or a criminal. This is too much! Suddenly, perps' "excuses" from the past echoed in his head. "It's a cold word out there. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do." "I don't care 'bout dyin'. I'm dead already. You sorry fuckers got everything rigged." "My gang is mi familia. They got my back."

"So they really weren't just mouthing off." And now this lauded church-going Dallas detective considered joining the ranks of criminals, breaking his own heart in the process. He drove his car to a remote park and took out his gun. What would the world be without guns? How else could he do his job? How else could he quickly leave this planet? For him it had always been a means to an end, his private personal religion. "Law and order? Who the hell am I kidding? Certainly not God considering all the help I'm getting. Well, God, if you don't give a fuck neither do I, Motherfucker!"

So that was that. Darius was going to have to do a rip-off and hope no one got killed. Somebody had to die in this scenario: his son, himself, or a scummy criminal. His first impulse was to sacrifice himself but a sober look revealed that too betrayed his son. The detective closed his heart and made up his mind, determined to live a long life with his son. And yet...


"Go ahead, take it!"

Jose's eyes were wide as saucers staring down the angry end of a gun pointed at him by a clearly disturbed man.

"What do you mean, 'take it'?"

"You got the gun, not me!"

Jose was no hard guy and the detective knew that. Darius had always told himself if he was going to rip anybody off it would be Jose. He knew about him from an informer and the two had never met. But seeing Jose be so cooperative made it harder to actually take the money.

"It's all I've got," continued Jose. "$42,000. My life savings. I just always fucked!"

The 42k figure bothered Darius. He was 42 and it was like his soul was being valued and paid off. What an hour before would have been a very fine deal now seemed wildly inadequate. Nothing ever turned out like he planned!

"I've got a dying son!" wailed the detective. "I've got a dying son..."

A blubbering mess, the detective turned away, clutching his stomach, lost in all the universe. What a fool to cling to his soul at a time like this. It was a death sentence for his child. Numb and shivering, he headed back out into the barrio night of far east Dallas.

"Hey, wait." Jose stood under the dim porch light holding a bundle. "Take this. It's ten thousand dollars."

"I can't, "replied the detective. "I just can't. I'm sorry about all this. Life is hell."

"I know it is." That's when Darius noticed the tear streaked cheeks of Jose. "This is my out money. I got get outta here to better places. You don't know what it does to you living here like dog-eat-dog, roaches and mice in my kitchen. I never done nothin' for nobody in my life."

"You're serious? You're offering me your own money?"


Detective Adams' tears attempted to release from empty wells. He'd never been so touched in his life. It was, perhaps, the most beautiful moment he'd known.

"That...this is the kindest thing...anyone's ever done..."

"Please take this money. For your son. I need you do this. It's for my madre."

"Your mother?"

"Si. My mother, Emily, always kind to me. But me, I was terrible to her, had to do things my own way. Made her life hell then she cannot stand me no more. She's kindest person I ever know and here on Mother Day I cannot even talk to her!" Jose started to cry. "Please take this. I don't want to die the bum she thinks I am."

Speechless, Darius took the money as if he were accepting a holy chalice. He felt stupid saying it but he felt obligated by his middle class morality: "I'll pay you back - every cent."

Darius drove home a changed man. He'd gone to rip off a bad guy, to sell his soul, but instead found salvation from the very criminal element he was trying to destroy! Strangely enough, that gave him an incredible sense of calm he'd never experienced before. He was happy to be wrong! So good was this feeling, in fact, he didn't know how he'd ever arrest another criminal again. Communication is the destroyer of illusion.

With the freedom the knowledge of being wrong brought, Darius remembered a too-good-to-be-true sounding treatment suggested by an alternative medicine doctor using only natural substances. He recalled his angry dismissal of the suggestion but that came off as highly irrational now. When the treatments began to work he asked the doctor why everyone didn't do this.

"Traditional medicine has to monetize everything or they dismiss it as ineffective. As one GP said to me: You can't put a patent on green beans. That about sums up their mentality."

Detective Adams returned the money to Jose, telling him he had a friend for life wherever he may end up - even in jail. He told Jose the offering of the money had opened his eyes and that ended up saving his son's life. Jose took the freshest breath of air he'd had in many, many years.

Detective Adams lost his final remnants of faith in the world. At a policeman's charity event a speaker spoke the oft-quoted line of the "thin blue line" police provide that separates society from criminal chaos. At that, he got up and left, smirking to himself. "Only love does that."

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