PRL Serials

Previously on Old Man Young and the Bronx Avenger

Life is a very long journey through very difficult obstacles; Detective Paul Young knows that, and for the most part, he has been willing to rise to the occasion. It’s the reason he is in his fifties, still going strong with the Knoxville Police Department, and its the reason criminals know that he isn’t a law enforcement officer to be taken lightly. 

In recent history, Young has been busy; it seems that since he made a local drug dealer named Yuri his number one target for arrest, bodies have been piling up in his way to keep him off of Yuri’s trail. None seem to be drug related, so Young’s joint investigation with narcotics has taken a backseat to the numerous homicide investigations that have crowded his desk. It’s strange timing too and Young is suspicious to say the least, but the rise in murders don’t seem to follow any particular pattern. Since the beginning of July, three bodies had been fished out of Tennesee River nearing Chattanooga, all three seemingly unrelated; another two had been found in Victor Ashe Park. A few had been cleared as muggings gone bad, but the majority were still open cases and all of the victims had been killed by guns. Murders from gang activity had spiked as well and Young spent most of his time at the department sifting through statements and evidence, hoping to stamp down the violence. Sure, the heat of the summer is sometimes attributed to a spike in violence, but heat alone didn’t seem to be the culprit. Young could feel that Yuri and whatever criminal organization was backing him, was somehow behind it all.

One night that Young was working alone in the department, Sandra, the woman who had been trying to help him catch Yuri and had been living with him for months, showed up with food. They sat in the mostly empty building and Young smiled at the smells from the containers she opened. 

“If you believe the papers, it’s getting crazy out there.” Sandra said as she scooped baked macaroni onto his plate.

“Believe ‘em, Sandra.” Young says ”This city is practically on fire, and the worst part is, we can’t tell why. The gangs are acting stupid, we caught a hate crime last week if you can believe that, gay bashing on the west side, people are whipped up.”

“So I guess y’all ain’t making much progress against Yuri?” Sandra had a vested interest in seeing Yuri behind bars. Her son had died earlier in the summer and though they had yet to solve his murder, both she and Young were convinced that Yuri had something to do with it. And she had grown up in the same neighborhood as Yuri, she knew his mother fairly well, and she was well acquainted with the drug element of the city. 

Young shook his head. He was embarrassed to admit that. “He laying low and all this other shit just flooded the foreground.”

“You know,” Sandra said, “I remember something. When my husband was doin’ his dirt back then, he used to warn me that when the drug boys lay low, that’s when you gotta be extra careful. He used to get mad if I was out after the sun went down and he didn’t ever let me take a bus or nothing like that. If the drug boys scared to get caught, the fiends usually out, desperate for something.”

“I know, and that’s part of it, sure, but that don’t explain everything.” Young said.

“Yea, but he also said that it was a good time for people to make money other ways. If the police focusing on the one’s selling drugs, the crooks do other stuff to make they money. If Yuri is trying to keep you from finding out about his drug operation, then dope boys all over the city making less than they used to, not just in the projects. I know they supply the rich white boys too. And even if they ain’t doin crack or whatever, they still addicts; addicted to they money. That’s a fiend of a different type out there terrorizing the city.” Sandra sat picking at the food on her plate and she was surprised that Young was lost in his thoughts and was ignoring the food.

This week, in Knoxville, TN

Ivan Santana is a physically imposing figure. He is over six feet tall and he has broad shoulders with muscles that bulge to fill whatever shirt he is wearing. He has thick eyebrows that don’t really require grooming, and when they slope down toward the bridge of his nose, usually when he is thinking intently about something, he looks very mean. His jaw is particularly muscled and his smile seems to crack the granite of his cheeks when he does smile. His outward appearance is in stark contrast to his inner being that is gentle and obsessed with spiritual harmony and enlightenment. Ivan’s family was originally from the state of Jalisco, Mexico and his family on his mother’s side is Huichol, the relatively small indigenous Mexican population that used the peyote plant as part of religious ceremony. Ivan had spent time with his grandfather as a child and he had told Ivan all about his ancient religion and the importance of spiritual connection to the land of his forefathers. Ivan treasured that connection, even though he was far away from it and barely comprehended the intricacies of his grandfather’s beliefs. Things became more complicated as Ivan grew older; his grandfather was a local shaman who administered the peyote to those seeking its wisdom and he had seen in Ivan potential for him to do the same. But as Ivan got older, his homosexuality became more apparent and Ivan’s grandfather refused to see him until he confessed his sexual sins to the various gods in nature and sought purity that could only be obtained through the spiritual journey afforded while under the influence of peyote. Despite his grandfather’s rejection, Ivan still longed for a spiritual balance with nature that he pursued through long session of meditation in the traditions of other cultures. The idea of violence was abhorrent to Ivan and he spent a lot of his time working to heal the victims of violence around him. His work at the Knoxville, TN morgue was part of that want to heal, and he prayed to nothing in particular over each body that he prepared for autopsy that the souls of the deceased could find contentment in the afterlife. He had a secondary mission that took him away from his home in NC that has only recently bared fruit.

Detective Young sees Ivan as a future member of the Knoxville Police Department, despite Ivan’s repeated insistence that he is not interested in carrying a gun. It’s not just Ivan’s imposing figure, but also his gentle nature that he imagines would be excellent for de-escalating conflicts that spring up. To Young, Ivan was the perfect candidate to be a police officer; physically capable of holding his own and reluctant to use deadly force, qualities that seemed to be lacking in some departments around the country. But Young figures that even if Ivan is reluctant to wear a badge, he can still assist with the case against Yuri.

Young stands next to his desk, smiling and waving at Ivan who makes his way cautiously into the department.

“Glad you could make it, good to see you.” Young pulls out a chair for Ivan and sits behind his desk.

“I’m not sure why you asked me here, though, Detective, I’m not really not sure how I can help you.” Ivan smiles weakly.

“That murder, the boy with the IDs with the wrong picture? That murder is still unsolved and everyday I go home to his mother, I can’t tell her no good news. Don’t you think that woman deserves some closure?”

Ivan shrugs, “We do what we can detective. You know that better than me. And from the looks of it,” Ivan eyes the stack of files on Young’s desk, “your hands are pretty full. Not to say that case isn’t important, but how can I help you out if you have a whole department of police officers who apparently haven’t been very helpful to you?”

“The bad guys are being careful and they know our faces. We can’t get leads on hardly anything, especially the ID boy because it was drug related. All the bodies we know that have a drug connection are going colder than a fridge, ever since we started focusing on Yuri. None of my undercovers been able to find out anything. I need someone to go at this from a completely different angle. And that’s where I think you can help me.”

“But how? I can’t go undercover. I don’t know the first thing about drugs.”

“You don’t have to.” Young hands Ivan the files of three homicide cases. “Those, including the ID boy, are all believed to have drug connections. These boys probably made some mistakes, they was probably shot while they was breaking the law, but that don’t change the fact that they have family that loves ‘em and wants justice for ‘em. I want you to go to the families’ houses as an employee of the Knoxville morgue, and see if you can’t get one of their relatives talking. Maybe none of them know nothing, but I’m betting they can give us some information that can tie it back to a suspect we can put cuffs on. But you gotta work that sentimental angle.”

“Why me though?”

“You big enough to protect yourself if things go south, and you sensitive enough to make a connection. That’s exactly what I need. And you’re not a police officer, maybe they’ll be more likely to talk to you.”

“But why would they talk to someone from the morgue? Their relatives are dead and buried now.”

“I was hoping you’d be smart enough to come up with that part.”

Later, in East Knoxville…

Ivan is wearing his jacket that clearly identifies him as an employee of the city morgue.  Ivan isn’t nervous in east Knoxville, he has been to plenty  low income communities, mostly in NC, and he is used to seeing drug dealers in the daytime and homeless people walking aimlessly along sidewalks. The first house that he visits looks old and when he knocks on the door he can hear commotion inside. A woman greets him, frustrated at the action of the kids in the living room behind her.

“Hi, ma’am, I was wondering if I could speak with a relative of the late Mr. John Porter. I’m from the morgue…”

The woman looked incredulous, “the morgue? What you want.”

Ivan had rehearsed on the ride over and he had what he hoped would be a convincing cover. “We’re following up with the families of the recently deceased to ensure that our records are complete.”

“Oh, well what you need to know?” The woman is the mother of a majority of Mr Porter’s kids and she gave Ivan more information than he would have expected.

“Do you know how he died?” Ivan asked cautiously.

“He bled to death.” She looks sad and curses a small child trying to get her attention by pulling on her pant leg. “I really need to get back to these kids…”

“I understand ma’am, and I’m sorry to interrupt, but did you see your husband before he passed.”

“That nigga wasn’t my husband, but yea. I was at the hospital, I even talked to him before they did some surgery to save him.”

“Did he say anything about what happened?”

“I don’t know. Said he got shot, but the police know about that, you should know that. I’m sure they don’t care though, black man get shot at the drug house they don’t do nothing. And he even told them who shot him. But I really need to go,”

“Wait ma’am, he told the police who shot him?”

“Yea, it was some redneck biker, he told him his name and everything. But like I say, the police don’t care.”

Ivan takes notes and rushes back to the station to talk with Detective Young