Chapter 4 Chapter Four

When Ann entered the office, Claude was throwing a tantrum, roaring and banging on the walls. "Get out!" Claude yelled at someone, "I don't want to hear any more sissy complaints!" Ann went to the kitchenette to get a coffee mug and waited, seeing the troubled probation officer scurrying out of Claude's office like a field mouse before going in.They call their workplaces offices, but they are just partitions in a large room with upholstery as partitions.Claude, as supervisor, at least had her own space, and Ann had to share a cubicle with another probation officer.The sound of telephone conversations - business or private - permeated the cubicle, and there was no privacy.

Claude, who oversees adult crime investigations, assigns cases brought in by the courts to his staff for investigation and identification, and consults with them—essentially, approves their assessments and recommendations—and then goes to the courts, the D.A.’s office, the Public Act as an intermediary between the lawyer's office and other related units. "I'm back." Ann said, "Are you free?" Claude smiled and said, "My God! I'm so glad to see your pretty face. I'm not out of breath yet, but soon... soon. Sit down! How do you feel? Are you sure you're ready to go back to work?" Did the doctor allow you to come back to work?"

Ann sat down in her chair and didn't lean back because her shoulder was still sore, "I'm still weak... still sore, you know?" The two women knew each other so well that Ann didn't need to explain much.Yes, she was still in pain—her eyes said so.Yes, she is afraid.Yes, she has no choice but to come back to work. After exchanging pleasantries, Ann quickly changed the subject, "Why, is there any problem with Rogers?" Claudette is a good friend, a good woman, and a strong character who doesn't bring up Ann's injuries or show concern.Claudette, thirty-five, was a tall woman, with most of her weight in her lower body; African-American, intelligent and refined, a respected and outstanding supervisor in the county.

"That little guy is such a jerk!" said Claude. "Every time I assign more than one count to Rogers, he cries like a goddamn kid. Still don't know what a bingo list is, And won't learn. Do you hear that, Rogers?" Her roar was as loud as Texas across the partition wall. "You must have been beaten up by your mother when you were a kid. Stop that whining nonsense! Look at our Ann, who's back to work. Listen, this is the kind of person we need here, not a bunch of whimpering crybabys." "My mom did hit me," Rodgers yelled back.He who has been abused by Claude for a long time is not afraid at all.

"That's what went wrong. Now I've got you as my boss, and if you keep messing with me, I'm going to apply for incapacity benefits, Claude; or sexual harassment will work. Then they pay me every month The money will be deducted from your salary." "Even if you are the only man left on earth, I won't be interested in your skinny white butt." Claude quickly countered. Laughter and obscenities erupted from the other probation officers before shouting in unison: "Welcome back, Ann!" "Thank you! I'm glad to be back too." The probation guards in this unit were very supportive of Ann. They visited her in the hospital, offered to help deal with David's affairs, and brought food to see her at their home.

"I want to take Jimmy Sawyer back to court and change his probation." After the office fell silent, she said to Claude, "What do you think? Do you think Hill Storms will approve? I It's a promise to Sawyer." "Why the hell did you do that?" cried Claude, her dark eyes shining. "The D.A.'s office is on the verge of sending him to jail for shooting charges." "He saved my life, Claudette!" Ann couldn't believe that Karen was really after Sawyer.He has no concrete and reliable evidence to support his view.Not only that, but acting rashly is not Karen's style at all.He had always liked only cases with clear convictions.

"You know Karen Hopkins and I were in a relationship, and he was pissed off what happened to me. He must have thought the quicker the case was closed the quicker I would be out of danger; so there were no other suspects or leads And then he got his eye on Sawyer." "Perhaps the man is right," said Claude. Ann shook her head: "I'm sure it's not him. How many people will shoot you and then give you first aid? If he deliberately hurt me, why not just let me bleed to death?" "Hmm!" said Claude, rolling her fat hips in the little chair.Then leaning forward on the table, "There's no such thing as cheap, that's my opinion. Besides, Hillstorms will just think you don't want custody of him. It won't work."

Although Ann respected Claude very much, she still felt that she was too ruthless.If she had been bleeding on the pavement, Ann would have understood how grateful she was to Jimmy Sawyer.But Claude is the boss, and Ann doesn't have the strength to refute her right now. "You're the boss," Ann said, standing up. Time to start investing!She thought—go and see what the mess is like on the seat. "Ah!" Ann yelled after entering the cubicle.Half of the people rushed over, including Claude, with terrified expressions on their faces.Ann looked back at them and said, "Sorry! It wasn't me that got shot, it was the filing cabinet." Ann kicked a cardboard box out of the way to make a path.You can go to your office and say, "Look here, I knew it was going to be bad, but I didn't expect it to be this bad."

All Ann saw were file folders and cardboard boxes.Her decade-long seniority at the unit, combined with her considerable expertise, placed her in the unenviable position of handling the most complex and serious cases in the system.That means mountains of documents: trial transcripts, police reports, transcripts of initial trials, criminal records from other states or other agencies, autopsy reports and medical examiner reports.All documents must be read and studied.They were littered and piled up everywhere.Randomly stacked in plastic baskets on the metal filing cabinet on the table, the height is already four feet above the ground, and it will fall to the ground at any time.

Ann turned around and saw Claude still standing there with concern on her face. "I did my best, Ann. I really did! I took the work home, and I assigned it to others. Just do your best. That's what it is." She sighed wearily. The unit is in a miserable state.Cases keep coming in, and there are deadlines for everything: filing dates, interview dates, court dates, review dates, second offense dates—it's bad enough that the workload is overwhelmed, and when everything has deadlines, the pressure increased to the point where it was almost unbearable. After the supervisor left, An sat down on his seat.Her desk was positioned in front of a floor-to-ceiling window from which she could look out into the complex's parking lot.Her eyes immediately drifted to the line of trees outside the parking lot, looking for the opening to Victoria Avenue.Then she looked at it—the place in the bushes where she had stepped on seconds before she was shot.This morning, she deliberately parked her car on the other side of the building, just not wanting to pass by.

Ann grabbed De Wesieur's file and opened it, hoping to distract herself from what she had seen in the window.I don't know if it was five minutes or ten minutes, but Ann didn't read the file. Instead, she thought about the location in her heart, and how she didn't want to see it again.This kind of seat by the window was something everyone was vying for, but Anne would rather work in the closet now. She unconsciously walked across the table to the window, put her palms on the glass, and looked at her hands on the glass to understand why she did it.She wanted to feel the thickness of the glass, to make sure there was something between her and the spot in the bushes. Then many questions popped into her mind.They hit her head like a migraine, pressing down on her forehead, hitting her temples—questions that kept coming—questions that she knew would never have answers, like her questions about Hank. "Exactly like Hank," she murmured, shaking her head, trying to stop these thoughts immediately. Where was he standing when he shot?Why on earth did you shoot?What did she do to this man?Who hated her enough to shoot her and leave her bleeding on the sidewalk?These horrible questions kept coming to her, as if they had come to life. Ann finally pulled herself back, sank into the seat, and looked around at the mountains of files.Now those questions are lesser and muffled voices. "Where's that file I just took?" she said loudly, over the voices. Where is Hank's body buried?Another voice burst out again.What happened on that deserted road that night?Who turned her life upside down? That's the problem when you start asking questions that don't have answers - Ann thought.One set of problems just leads to another set of problems. At about ten o'clock, Ann bumped into Polly Rogers on her way back from the coffee room. "Ann," he said, holding a heavy portfolio in his hand, weeping, "I know you just got back, but I really don't understand this. Bingo. It's harder than trying to figure out my tax refund." Ann smiled.The bingo sheet is their playful name for the sentence calculation form, which reminds many people of a tax refund form.California passed an important law many years ago that created its own sentence for each count. "No problem!" she said to him. "Come to my seat, and we'll study it right away." Polly Rogers, in his mid-twenties, was a thin man, so thin that he needed a pillow to sit at his desk just high enough.Ann has never seen him eat, and rumor has it that he has an eating disorder.But he was a likable guy, and Ann was always willing to lend a helping hand to less experienced colleagues. "Now, Polly," she said, after he had pulled up his chair and sat down at her table, "give me your bingo list and the court order, listing the convictions, and your proposal." Rogers gave Ann the entire file and waited for her to read every detail.Ann found that one of the reasons he was finding it so difficult was because the case he was working on now involved multiple counts, all sex crimes.Sentencing indicators for sexual crimes are more complex than for all other crimes.Every year new laws are added.Ann was a well-known expert on the subject, and she could mentally work out a fifty-count case in under a minute; Rogers, and most of the rest, couldn't. "Here's where you went wrong," she said to him, pointing to the list. "This one is serving consecutive sentences, not all at once; and you misplaced the aggravated sentence for the original larceny." Rogers didn't get what Ann was saying, "Why can't that damn judge figure this stuff out for himself? They make more money than we do." This was the common feeling of most of the guardians who were sent to the court to serve. Ann had heard too much, so she just shrugged and laughed. "Why don't you see what your combined answer is, Polly?" she said, handing him the corrected list and waiting for him to work out the answer. The job has become increasingly specialized over the years.Until six months ago Polly Rogers' duties were field service.In that position, he just needs to monitor criminals and make reports when they violate probation laws and be fine.A field attendant is not the same thing as a forensic investigator.Many take their cases lightly, come to work in jeans and an undershirt, and rarely have to The case came to court.Now Polly has been transferred to serve in the court, and his work is concentrated on writing and investigating the pre-trial report for the court. "Why are you increasing this sentence?" Ann said, looking at the watch from behind him. "Because he uses a gun," he replied. "But you've given him two years for use of a weapon, so you can't ask for a higher sentence for the same reason. Get it?" Ann said. punished twice for the crime." "So," said Rogers, obviously confused, "his prior convictions were also an aggravating factor, and I've used that to aggravate his sentence. Is that what you're saying?" "No! Not the same," said Ann, beginning to feel as depressed as Polly.She knew it was complicated and felt sorry for the man.But he must understand the law if he is to do his job well. "The aggravation was based on a specific conviction, the larceny. You're aggravating his sentence with his entire record. Do you know the difference?" Ann looked at the piles of files on the desk, and then looked back at her colleagues.She really didn't have time to sit here and explain to him all day.Snatching the form from him, Ann filled in the correct sentence, did the math in her head, and handed it back to him. "Well, here you go, Polly!" she said, "but you'll have to learn it yourself sometime in the future." After Rogers returned to his seat next door, he began to talk to Ann through the board again: "It's right there, right? Do you know what I mean, it's the place where you were shot." Ann didn't answer him, and quietly left the seat, deciding to find an empty table that could be used temporarily, a seat that didn't face the parking lot. At half past twelve, Ann heard her name called over the loudspeaker.She put away the documents and files on the conference table, and hurried back to her seat to answer the phone. "Hi!" said Jimmy Sawyer, "I want to ask about you." "Oh, Jimmy!" Ann said, recognizing his nasal voice. "It's so kind of you to call to say hello. To tell you the truth, I wanted to call you this afternoon." Ann didn't want to tell him bad news on the phone, and suggested that he come to the office to talk.Then she thought of a better idea. "To tell you something," she said, "I owe you a favor. I want to treat you to lunch. Why don't we meet at Mary Callander's?" No matter what anyone said, Ann was very grateful for his life-saving grace.Most people didn't want trouble, and Ann knew she would have probably bled to death on the sidewalk. "Mary Callander's is too far from my house," Sawyer said. "Let's go to the Hilton!" Ann arrived at the restaurant of the Hilton Hotel and sat down at a table.As she read the menu, Sawyer walked in, long hair in a ponytail, Levi's jeans and a white shirt with embroidered pockets. "I can't stay," he said, refusing to sit down. "I have to go; I'm going to be late." "You mean you don't eat lunch?" Ann said surprised. "I want to give you something in return. I mean, I know it's nothing, but..." Ann noticed that Sawyer couldn't bring himself to look directly at her continuously, and his eyes quickly drifted away from her face. "I thought you promised to take me back to court, tell them about my behavior, change my probation form so I don't have to report every month." "Why don't you sit down first, Jimmy?" Ann said, studying his expression, and immediately changed her opinion of him. "No, I have to go! I have to go back to school." "Are you in school?" she asked, confused.She couldn't really think of anything about his case, it was as if everything that had happened before the shooting had been erased from her mind. "No," he said, "but I'm starting next semester. I'm going to do my college entrance exam a little better." He stopped abruptly, rubbing his hands on his jeans, "I'm going to tutor. If I don't If you do well in the exam, you can only go to a poor little college." What a lousy little college, An thought to herself, pursing her lips in disgust.She knows that as long as the children can be admitted to the university, no matter how bad the college is, they will be very happy. "It's not that bad. A lot of people go to small college for two years and then go to college. My husband did that, and he went on to graduate UCLA with honors." Mentioning Hank in front of Sawyer gave Ann a strange feeling. Suddenly, the night of the shooting came back to Ann's mind.Why did she think Hank showed up that night?Ann knew it was her illusion, but it still pressed tightly against her chest.If anyone could help her get rid of this feeling, Ann thought, it would be Sawyer.He was there. "Jimmy, can you describe to me who came to me the night I was shot?" "Some old couple. I don't know, I don't really remember much." "Abraham detective told me that there were a lot of people coming that night. Did you see a tall, stocky man with a crew cut and small eyes about my age? Maybe someone like an education monitor?" "Listen," Sawyer said, getting angry, "I was only thinking about saving you, I don't remember anything else." He got more and more angry, "The cops treated me like a suspect or something ...to tell you something," he said, "if this happened again, I'm not sure I'd ever stop to save you!" An swallowed, feeling a little guilty.If she didn't convince Karen to drop the charges against him, the poor kid would really suffer; he would never help anyone else in his life. "There's the prosecutor," Sawyer interrupted, as if reading what was going on in her mind. "You know who I mean? Karen Hopkins." "I didn't mean him," Ann said. Sawyer continued: "Haven't these guys been taught first aid? I mean, he has no idea what to do. He'll just stand there and look at you like a weak dick. My dad It's a doctor, so..." So, Ann thought, Keren wasn't as calm in an emergency as he was in court.Then it occurred to her that a secret reason might explain why he was so determined against Sawyer: he was her lover, but he panicked.Sawyer witnessed his embarrassment. "Why are you asking me these questions?" Sawyer said.At this time, he became even more uneasy, "I thought you called me here to tell me some good news, instead of interrogating me like a policeman again." "I'm sorry!" said Ann sheepishly. "I really appreciate what you've done for me, Jimmy. Why don't you just sit down for a while, it's a little inconvenient to continue talking like this." Sawyer stood next to a huge artificial palm tree, turned his head nervously to look behind, and then turned back to look at Ann, "I have to go, I don't want to sit down." "All right!" Ann said, disappointed by his performance.The waitress has come to the table to take the order. "Are you sure you don't want to eat something? Maybe a drink or ice cream?" Sawyer didn't answer, so Ann just shrugged and started to order.But she watched him out of the corner of her eye, and saw him staring at a plastic leaf on the palm tree, as if it contained the mysteries of the entire universe.After the waitress left, Ann called his name several times, but he didn't answer.Ann suddenly realized: he was in the excitement of ecstasy.Exactly what happened she didn't know, but she knew now why he wouldn't eat, why he couldn't sit still, why his palms were sweaty. Ann had always trusted her instincts, and now it told her that Sawyer was just another kid with a drug addiction.He may appear normal in court, but he's actually a druggie.Ann stared up at him to see if his pupils were dilated. "What are you hitting, Jimmy?" "What?" he said, giggling like she told some super big joke. "Did you inject anything?" Ann guessed it was LSD or a mixture of cocaine, heroin, and morphine. "Absolutely not, man! I'm leaving." He turned and walked away. "Hi," Ann shouted, quickly chasing after him, "come back!" He was her probationer, and she couldn't let him just get away like this, no matter what favors he gave her.Last time she just wanted to stay As a result, the man stabbed his wife to death after taking LSD five times, saying that she was a devil from hell.The girl was only twenty-three years old, and they had three little babies.Ann doesn't want to take chances and take risks anymore, she is a responsible wife to the court and society.But Sawyer had already run out of the door, and the weak Ann could not catch up with him. "What world?" she said, sitting back in her seat.She will be forced to test Sawyer for narcotics.It seems that the result must be dirty, and Ann will finally have the responsibility to send the savior to prison.