“I know, honey. I know.”
“Why didn’t he just walk away? Why didn’t he just let it go?”
His mother was quiet for a moment. “Because that’s not who he was. You know that. You’re the same way. You couldn’t walk away from something wrong either. That’s why you became a cop.”
She was right. He knew she was right.
“He would have been so proud of you,” she said. “Seeing you in that uniform. He would have been so proud.”
“I’m going to be the cop he wanted me to be, Mom.”
“You already are, sweetheart. You already are.”
Ryan went back to the gas station the next day. Left a note with the cashier for Walt Brennan.
It said:
“Thank you for keeping the promise. Thank you for telling me the truth. Thank you for honoring my father when his own department wouldn’t. I understand now why he did what he did. And I understand why you knelt. It wasn’t for me. It was for him. I’m going to spend the rest of my career making sure his sacrifice meant something. Every time I put on this badge, I’ll remember what it cost. And I’ll wear it the way he would have wanted me to. With honor. – Ryan Decker.”
Walt got the note three days later. Read it to the club at their weekly meeting.
Fifty men. Most of them crying.
“Jack raised a good one,” Walt said. “He raised a damn good one.”
It’s been two years since that night at the gas station.
Ryan made detective last month. Youngest in the department’s history. He works internal affairs now. Investigates corruption. Holds cops accountable.
Some of his colleagues don’t like him. Say he’s too aggressive. Too righteous. Too willing to go after his own.
He doesn’t care. He knows what happens when good cops stay silent. He carries that knowledge like his father carried it. Heavy but necessary.
Walt and the club ride past the station every Tuesday night. Same route. Same stop. If Ryan’s working, they wave. Sometimes they stop and talk.
They’re not friends exactly. A cop and a biker club. It’s complicated.
But there’s respect. Deep, unshakeable respect.
