Part 1

Detective Lieutenant Steve Sloan, Los Angeles Police Department, sat at his desk on the morning of Friday, October 5th, immersed in paperwork. He'd been summoned to the scene of a murder the night before, and was now diligently writing a preliminary report, while awaiting word that the autopsy report was ready and the fingerprint checks were back. It had been a particularly nasty murder, a drug deal gone awry. Unfortunately, the victim was a sixteen-year-old who was trying to make a buy. God, would they never learn! No, probably not. He turned again to his keyboarding and did not see the woman approach his desk. He was so preoccupied that he barely heard his name:

"Lt. Sloan? Lt. Sloan?"

He looked up in surprise: "What? Oh. Yes. May I help you?" He found himself looking at a beautiful woman whom he was sure he didn't know, but who somehow seemed familiar. He rose to greet her.

"I'm here to proposition you, Lieutenant."

Steve's mouth dropped open and he retreated about two steps from his desk. "Uh, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, or what kind of trap you're trying to spring on me, but I'm not available. Perhaps you should leave."

He backed up further. He picked up his phone and buzzed his commanding officer, Captain Jack Herrera, and asked him to come into the squad room. Two other detectives had heard the exchange and ambled over to Steve's desk; Captain Herrera emerged from his office.

"Steve, what's the matter?"

"I don't know, Captain, but I don't think that it's good. Our visitor here tells me that she's come to proposition me." Steve gestured to the woman and continued: "Isn't that correct?"

"Yes. I'm here to proposition you."

Herrera stepped in front of Steve and said: "Steve, into my office. I'll handle this," and Steve left the room.

"Madam, just what do you think you're doing? If you need police assistance tell me, and I'll assign an officer to help you. If you have some complaint against Lt. Sloan and think this is the proper way to handle it, it isn't. I'll direct you to Internal Affairs so that you can file a complaint. However, I will not allow you to come in here and harass him or try to entrap him."

The woman stared at Herrera and said: "What is the matter with you? He gave me his card and said that he would help me with a project I have in mind. I'm the principal of Lincoln High."

"That's even worse," responded Herrera.

The woman was completely confused and looked it. She finally responded: "Look, I don't know what you think I'm here to do, but Lt. Sloan was staffing a safe driving booth at your information fair last August, and he agreed to speak at the school."

"Is that what you're talking about?" replied Herrera.

"Yes, what did you think I meant?"

"Madam, it isn't wise to come into a police squad room and tell an officer that you're there to proposition him."

The woman still looked puzzled and said: "Proposition is a perfectly good word."

"In any other situation I would agree with you. However you are in a police station, and that word generally has other connotations."

The light finally dawned and the woman responded: "Oh! Oh! Oh, no! He didn't think that I was here to-"

"I'm afraid that he did. It has happened before. I'll have him come back and speak with you." He picked up the phone, buzzed Steve and said: "Steve, there's been a misunderstanding, a poor choice of words. You can come back."

Steve returned to the squad room and the other detectives returned to their desks. As Steve approached his desk, Herrera turned and said:

"Steve, this is the principal of Lincoln High School and she is here to ask you to speak to the students. That is her proposition.

The woman said: "Lt. Sloan, you don't remember me, do you?"

Steve felt his face redden as he admitted: "No, I must admit that I don't, but you seem familiar. I take it that we've met."

"Yes, at the Police Department information fair last August. All area schools were invited to send staff. The Department gave out information on teenage driving, drug abuse, as well as community service numbers and general information about police work. You happened to be staffing the booth on teenagers and driving and we had a short conversation."

Steve grinned sheepishly. "Yes, now I remember you. Ofelia DelaCruz. I apologize Ms. DelaCruz. I should have known, but you took me by surprise. Please forgive me. Sit down and tell me what you have in mind."

They both sat and DelaCruz replied: "I, too, apologize, Lieutenant. It never occurred to me that you would mistake my intentions. You appeared very interested in my little project, and I assumed that you would of course remember our conversation out of all those you had that day."

"I am interested in it. It saddens me to see these kids losing their lives just because they think they're indestructible. If you think I can help, I would be glad to speak to them. I wonder, though, if you would be better off going through Community Outreach. I'm a homicide detective and don't usually work that kind of case."

"I've been that route, Lt. Sloan. Every year. The three Outreach Officers come, one Anglo, one Black and one Hispanic, full of good intentions and genuinely concerned about the kids. And every year the kids ignore them. I want an officer who has had to clean up the mess. I want an officer who has gone into a home to tell the parents that little Johnny is dead. I don't care what color you are or what your ethnic background is. You're a homicide detective now, but you've seen this and you obviously care, or you wouldn't have been in that booth. You'd have been spending your day off on the beach, like everybody else."

Steve arose and walked to the window. After several minutes, he returned to his desk and sat.

"I'll do it. I occasionally see traffic accident cases, mostly because I happen to be in the area and can respond to the call first." Just then Steve's phone rang. "Sloan. All right. I'll be there soon." He turned to DelaCruz and said:

"Ms. DelaCruz, that was the Medical Examiner. When you arrived I was working on a murder case and I've just been told that the autopsy is finished. I have to go get it. Would you please excuse me?" Steve pulled out his business card, added the numbers for BBQ Bob's and his home, and handed it to her. "Here is my card. Use any number there; I'll eventually answer one of them," he said with a smile. "Better yet, do you know a small rib joint called BBQ Bob's?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. I know where it is, but I've never eaten there. Why?"

"Why don't you come around 6:30 for dinner. We'll talk and I'll have a better idea of when my next day off during the week is. My treat. Would ribs be okay?"

"Ribs are fine. You have to do this on a day off?"

"Yes, otherwise I could get called away in the middle of the talk. It's best. I don't mind if that's what worries you."

"It did cross my mind that it would be an imposition."

"It's not. How about if I have a couple of doctors join us tonight? One or both might be available to come along and talk about the consequences after the crash."

"You know doctors who'd be willing to do this?"

"Sure, I know several. I won't promise that they can come with me when I talk to the kids, because much would depend on their schedules. One is the head of the ER at Community General Hospital, and the other is the head of Internal Medicine there. They've both seen their share of teenage driving deaths."

"Lt. Sloan, thank you very much. I'll be glad to meet you there. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Ms. DelaCruz."

They parted company and Steve went to the ME's office. The autopsy report confirmed Steve's suspicions about the death of a teen, a teen with her whole life ahead of her. He was then called to the police lab, to pick up the fingerprint check. They got lucky. One clear print linked the victim to the drug dealer-Adam Peale. This was going to be easy, the first easy case he'd had in a long time. Steve called for a patrol unit to meet him at Peale's house and took off. By noon Peale and his cronies were in custody and Steve was writing the final report. His desk phone rang and he picked up the receiver:

"Sloan. Can I help you?"

"Hi, son, how are you doing? How's the case?"

"I'm good, dad. The case is solved and the creeps that killed that poor girl are in jail. Oh I love these cases when they're easily solved. Dad, can you come to Bob's for dinner? I need to talk to you and Jess there."

"Sure, Steve. Is there anything wrong?"

"No. Actually it's something good, but I'll tell you then. 6:30 and there will be someone joining us."

"A woman? New love?"

"Yes, a woman, but no, not a new love. She's married. She's a high-school principal and has a project she wants me to help with. I told her that maybe you or Jess could help, too."

"OK, son. Shall I tell Jess?"

"No, we're both scheduled at the restaurant. Bye, dad."

"Bye, son. Take care."

"I will."

Steve spent the rest of the afternoon immersed in paperwork again. He called it quits and left for Bobs at 5:00.

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******

Pt.2
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Steve blew into BBQ Bob's at 6:00 p.m. and noticed that Jess was already there.

"Hi, Jess. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Steve, what's up?"

"A Ms. DelaCruz is meeting me here for dinner at 6:30 and I want you and dad to join us. Dad's already said that he would. What do you say?"

Jesse replied through his chuckle: "Sure, Steve. Ms. DelaCruz? Have you found yet another love? Sure hope this one works out."

"No, she's not another love and she's already married. She's the principal of Lincoln High and she's asked me to speak to the kids about teenage driving and drag racing. I told her that you and dad could join us tonight and maybe help."

"Sure, Steve, be glad to. If we can work it out, I'll go with you when you speak."

"Thanks, Jess, I was hoping either you or dad would. Here's dad now. Hi, dad."

"Hi, son."

Mark joined Jess and Steve and they talked. The time passed quickly and soon it was 6:30. Steve asked Kevin, his head server, to take care of the restaurant and not disturb them unless it was necessary.

DelaCruz entered the restaurant, immediately spotted Steve's table and went to it. Steve, Mark and Jesse rose to meet her and Steve began:

"Hi, Ms. DelaCruz. I'd like you to meet my father, Dr. Mark Sloan, head of Internal Medicine at Community General, and Dr. Jesse Travis, head of ER services."

"Dad, Jess, allow me to introduce Ms. Ofelia DelaCruz, principal of Lincoln High School."

"Good evening, gentlemen, I'm pleased to meet you Dr. Sloan and Dr. Travis. Nice to see you again, Lieutenant."

"Please, Ms. DelaCruz, sit, and call me Steve. I've ordered dinner for all of us-a family plate of ribs, fries and coleslaw. I hope that is acceptable.

"It sounds absolutely wonderful, and call me Ofelia. Now, have you thought more about my little proposition?"

Both she and Steve burst into laughter, leaving Mark and Jesse to show their confusion. Steve explained:

"When Ofelia came to the precinct this morning, I didn't recognize her. Then she said to me: 'Lieutenant, I've come to proposition you.' Let's just say that things went downhill for about five minutes."

Mark cut in: "Oh, Steve, don't tell me you thought that she was--"

"Yes, dad, I did. I even went so far as to call Herrera for help. Witnesses, you know. He managed to straighten it out."

"Lieutenant, Steve, I apologize again for that."

"It's alright. It's nothing a civilian would know."

"Anyone with an ounce of common sense should have realized it."

At that moment, there came a commotion from a table close to the window. The two people were drunk and making a scene. They were also being unreasonable. Kevin caught Steve's eye and shrugged. Steve excused himself and went over to help. He threw the troublemakers out of the restaurant and returned to the table. DelaCruz asked:

"Steve, why did you take it upon yourself to throw them out?"

"You didn't think that they deserved it?"

"Of course they deserved it, but what will the owner say?"

Mark replied: "The owner won't care. In fact, it was one of the owners who threw them out."

"What?"

"Ofelia, my dad, Jess and I own Bob's. That's partly the reason I asked you here. Both Jess and I are scheduled to be here tonight. Kevin will handle everything while we talk, except emergencies. That was an emergency. We'd rather lose two customers than fifty."

"Well, Lieutenant, you do have a full life, don't you?"

Steve forgot himself and let fly the comment: "Not full enough." Then he realized what he had said and continued: "Sorry. Let's get down to business while we eat."

Mark began the conversation: "Ofelia, Steve tells me that you have asked him to speak at the school. Why not an Outreach officer?"

"Dr. Sloan,"

"Call me Mark, please. And call Dr. Travis Jesse. We're an informal bunch."

"Thank you. Mark, as I told Steve, I've had the Outreach Officers at the school every year, and every year the kids ignore them. This year, I decided that I wasn't going to bother with that. I have to get through to those kids. I went to the Police Department information fair last August and talked with Steve while he was manning a driving information booth. I figure to have an officer speak who has had to pick up the pieces after someone dies. I'm hoping that will get their attention."

Jess interjected: "That sounds like a wonderful idea. I told Steve that I would go with him if we can work out the date. Perhaps they will believe a doctor."

"Jesse, I would be delighted to have either you or Mark join us."

Steve said: "Good, that's settled. My next weekday off is Friday, October 12th. After that, they're all weekends, until the middle of November. Would that suit everyone?"

"That's fine with me, Steve," said DelaCruz. "How about you doctors?"

"Steve," said Jesse, "I'm scheduled for a day shift. Mark, what about you?"

"I'm lucky, it's a day off for me, too. Steve, are we agreed?"

"Yes, dad. Ofelia?"

"Yes. It will be an afternoon assembly, from about 1:30 until dismissal, which is about 3:00. I'd like you to speak and then answer questions. I'm sure that you'll run into some smart alecks, but please don't dismiss them; they need the help most. Now comes the second part of my proposition, a free dinner. There is a wonderful restaurant nearby. After the assembly, an early dinner is on me. You'll love it. Could you join me and my husband?"

"We'd love to," replied Steve. See you at about 1:15 on October 12th. Now, let's finish our meal. Dessert is coming and Jess and I won't allow anyone to forego it."

They finished dinner and chatted. DelaCruz and Mark departed, and Steve and Jess stayed to close up. After Steve returned home, he and Mark sat down to talk.

"Steve, when was the last time you did an outreach session?"

"I don't know, about seven or eight years ago. Since I've been in Robbery-Homicide I haven't been asked. Besides, Community Outreach does most of this stuff."

"Why did you agree?"

"I don't know. I guess because I'd like to help, and because someone asked me. I'm glad she cares about the kids. Dad, it's getting late. I'm going to bed. 'Night."

"Night."

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******

Pt.3
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Friday, October 12

Mark and Steve arose around 9:00 on the morning of October 12. They stumbled into the kitchen simultaneously and started breakfast. Steve took caffeine patrol and Mark concocted the batter for French toast, a very different breakfast for what would be a very different day in their lives. The thunderstorms and rain kept them inside, but, as they ate, they stared at the power of the ocean. Not even Steve, a surfer since his adolescence, would have tackled those waves. He turned to his father and began the conversation:

"Dad, do you see those waves?"

"Yes, Steve. Look at the power in them. You wouldn't be thinking of going surfing this morning, would you?"

"Not a chance. I was just thinking about what I'm going to say, and whether I can say anything that would carry the same power with those kids as those waves do here. Have any ideas?"

"No, not off hand. Do you have any idea of how this will go?"

"Well, I suppose that Ofelia will tell the kids what the assembly is about and then introduce us. I expect a few moans and groans, maybe even a few insults directed at me. There probably won't be any directed at you."

"It must hurt."

"Sure it does, dad, but Pat Rice told me that it always happens. He said ignore it. Besides, it's not all the kids, just the usual loudmouths. As Ofelia said, the ones who really need to hear what I have to say."

"Are you going to tell them about it?"

"If it comes up, unless it will upset you."

"It won't upset me, Steve. Do you think it will come up?"

"Oh, yeah. Some of those kids won't believe anything that I say. I'm a cop, I live in Malibu and my father is a doctor. They'll either think that I never did anything wrong, or, if I did, my family got me out of trouble."

"Hah!"

"You know that and I know that, but they see kids get off with a slap on the wrist. If I want to have any influence at all, I'll have to be honest when they ask."

"All right, son. Have an idea of what you'll do first?"

I imagine that we'll start by describing an accident scene and then talk about what it's like telling the parents that their child is dead. Maybe you could talk about what you see in traffic injuries, then what happens if the kid makes it but needs rehab. Maybe how it affects you when the kid dies at the hospital and you have to tell the parents."

"Maybe I could even talk about what it's like when you're the parent."

"I imagine that you'll have to. We shouldn't hide anything."

At the sound of the phone, Steve looked at his father and said: "Expecting a call?"

"No. I hope it's not the hospital calling me in for an emergency!"

"So do I. I'd really like you there."

"Well, are you going to answer it, or let it go to voice mail?"

"I'll answer it," and, on the third ring, Steve picked up the receiver.

"Sloan." He heard:

"Good morning, Steve. This is Ofelia. I just wanted to touch base to confirm that you're coming today. Nothing has come up, I hope."

"Hi, Ofelia. Nothing has come up. We were afraid that this call was someone from the hospital, asking dad to come in. He would have had to go."

"I understand. The kids know that a police officer and a doctor are coming. I suppose that you're aware that you'll get a few catcalls."

"Yes, the officers usually do. I told dad that they probably wouldn't direct anything at him. I hope I'm right."

"You are, but the tone of your voice just then sounded threatening."

"Not threatening. I will tell you this. If they hassle my father, we're both gone. I can live with it, but I won't subject my father to it."

"Message received. Do you have any idea what you might say?"

"Actually I was going to describe an accident scene, but they're unpleasant. Are the kids prepared?"

"As much as they can be, but you're getting at something else. What is it?"

"Have you sent any kind of information home to the parents? I don't' want to have some kid go home and tell his parents, and have them file a complaint because I scared their child. It has happened."

"Yes, the parents have been informed. Any parents who objected were to have requested E.D.s for their children by this morning. A few have, but everyone else seems to agree that this is a good idea. Don't worry about it. I'll take the heat."

"OK, then we'll be honest, but graphic. By the way, do you have a neck mike or a cordless mike that I can use? I tend to walk around a lot."

"Sure, Steve. We can have one for you and one for Mark. Will that be all right?"

"Sure, that will be fine."

"Thank you, again Steve. Before I hang up, is there anything else that you'd like me to have?"

"A couple bottles of water, if you can. If not, it's no big deal."

"That's no problem. They'll be there. See you later. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Ofelia."

*************************

Ofelia DelaCruz hung up and sat back in her chair. She thought to herself: "I'm picking up odd vibes from him. I wonder-something else is going to happen today." She then left her office to make an announcement on the school PA system.

*************************

Steve hung up and turned to his father:

"It's a 'go' dad. She said that the parents had been informed and were supposed to have requested E.D.s for their children if they objected to the assembly. We are to be honest and, if necessary, graphic. She'll have cordless mikes for both of us, and water nearby. We should be OK."

"I think that you're right. Anything you want to do before we go?"

"Let's watch a movie. Oh, do you have the statistics ready?"

"Yes, in my briefcase. I also have your hospital records."

"My hospital records?"

"Yes."

"Which set?" replied Steve with a grin.

"The ones that are pertinent to today's topic, smart aleck."

Steve looked up and said:

"You kept those? I've heard of mementos but that is ridiculous! They're thirty years old!"

"No, of course not. Jess and I went down to storage to see if we could find them. Hospitals keep everything."

"So I see. You know, it might be a good idea to have them along. What movie, dad?"

"How about an old Bogie movie, Steve?"

"Sounds good."

Mark slipped a copy of The Maltese Falcon into the VCR, and he and Steve quickly became engrossed in the movie. It was close to 12 when the movie ended so they decided that they should leave. Better to be early than late. They locked the house, climbed into Steve's dark blue police car and headed for Lincoln High School.

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******

Pt.4
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Traffic wasn't too bad, and Steve entered the school parking lot at about 1:05. As he and Mark alighted from the car, they noticed several students look their way. Steve felt himself being studied and evaluated as they walked toward the building. If only they'd listen! If they'd only realize that, in a very real sense, he was talking about their lives! As they entered the school, they found themselves at a security checkpoint. Mark was taken aback and said to Steve:

"They really do this?"

"Yes, dad, they have to. Things are different, now. Sometimes I think that they should have had them when I was in school."

Steve displayed his badge and, before he went through the metal detector, the security guard inquired:

"Lieutenant, where is your weapon?"

"Right here." He gave it to the guard while he walked through the metal detector.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Dr. Sloan, may I have the briefcase?"

Mark surrendered his briefcase and walked through the metal detector. Just as they had been cleared, DelaCruz entered the hall:

"I'm sorry, gentlemen. I intended to be here so that you wouldn't have to go through the security check."

Steve responded: "No, it's better that we did. The kids have been studying me since I drove into the lot, and it's good that they saw me go through it. Has anything changed since our conversation this morning?"

"No, Steve. Everything is the same. Shall we make our way to the auditorium?"

"Sure," replied Mark, "we can get a feel for it. I'm very glad to be here."

Shortly after they entered the auditorium, students began to file in. By 1:30 it was full and Ms. DelaCruz stepped to the microphone.

"Good afternoon, students. I welcome you to this afternoon's assembly, and hope that you will leave with a better understanding of your driving privileges. You have all been given an information packet, which includes statistics on traffic deaths and teenagers. Please take them home and read them. It is important. I'd like to introduce this afternoon's speakers: Lt. Steven Sloan from the LAPD and his father, Dr. Mark Sloan, head of Internal Medicine at Community General Hospital."

Mark and Steve stood and looked out on an auditorium full of students, a microcosm of the Los Angeles city population. They saw intelligent faces, full of hope and enthusiasm. Steve picked up his microphone and walked toward the edge of the stage. Just as he started to speak, Steve was greeted with catcalls and jeers. He could hear several voices say:

"Hey, pig, how many people have you killed today?"

"Hey, what do you know about teenagers?"

"Hey, your old man's a doctor. Bet you got off every time you made a mistake!"

Mark felt his face redden and his anger rise at the disrespect shown his son. He stood up and picked up his briefcase. Steve noticed and indicated that he should sit. He walked over to his father and whispered:

"Dad, let it go. It's just a few. I told you that it would happen. Most of the kids want to hear us."

"All right, Steve."

Steve returned to the edge of the stage to a few more jeers. After the commotion subsided, he opened his mouth to speak:

"I had intended to tell a story first, but I see we already have questions which I will answer. I haven't killed anybody today. The last time I fired my gun was six months ago to take down the ex-lover of a twenty-two year old woman. He didn't think that he really had to obey the no-contact order and killed her. It was either him or the passers-by. What do I know about teenagers? I was one and I haven't forgotten. Yes, my father is a doctor and you think he got me off? You don't know my father. He believes in learning lessons. You'd be surprised at how many things my sister and I did once, and only once.

"Now that we have that out of the way, I'll return to the purpose of this visit. I'm a homicide detective now, but every homicide detective starts in a patrol car on the streets. It was thirteen years ago and my partner and I were on patrol. We received a radio call directing us to Mulholland Drive. The complaint was kids drag racing. We each took a deep breath and I took off. We hoped against hope that we would arrive in time, but we didn't. We arrived at the accident scene to find one car had crashed into the hillside and one was just on the edge of the road. One sixteen-year-old was dead and one was just hanging on.

"Let me tell you about the young man who died. He was a good kid, said his parents, and they were right. He worked at the local grocery store, he made sure that nobody picked on his sister and he did his chores at home. He just loved to drive, that was his one pleasure. Unfortunately he also loved speed. His skull was cracked and his face covered in cuts from the broken windshield. He was pinned inside the car and would have had multiple internal injuries if he hadn't died on impact. There was blood all over the car. Although I had been on the force for three years and had seen a number of wrecks, I still had to go behind a tree and throw up. I returned to the scene and tried to help my partner with the kid in the other car. He was a good kid, too. Worked at the same grocery store, helped his kid sister and did his chores. His pleasure was driving-and speed. He had a broken leg, broken arm, and we were sure that there were internal injuries, probably internal bleeding from the impact. We sent him off to the hospital and the other kid to the morgue, and we went to give the bad news to the parents of the deceased. We knocked on the door and watched his father's face turn pale when he saw two uniformed officers. He asked us why we were there and what his kid had done. We asked him and his wife to be seated and, as gently as we could, told them that their beloved son was dead. There was no emotional outburst but we could see them die inside. We took them to the morgue so that they could identify the body. At that point, the mother lost control of her emotions. It took us fifteen minutes to calm her down enough so we could take them home. Another patrol unit informed the parents of the kid who was injured and took them to the hospital. Then, it was back to the precinct to fill out the report, another in a series of reports about kids and driving that I would complete until I became a detective.

"Before I continue, I'm going to ask my father to tell you what would have happened at the hospital. Dad, please."

Mark stood up and walked to the edge of the stage. He raised his mike and was greeted with catcalls and jeers. Steve very calmly rose, picked up Mark's briefcase and indicated that they should leave. They had moved about five feet when DelaCruz came toward them and asked:

"Please, Steve, please don't."

Steve replied: "I told you what I would do. It's called 'learning lessons and living with consequences.' I will not subject my father to this."

Steve and Mark descended from the stage and started to leave. A young girl seated on the aisle stood up and caught Steve's attention:

"Please, Lieutenant, don't leave. I understand better than you think what you are trying to do. Most of us know about consequences. I learned the hard way. The girl that you talked about at first was my sister. It almost tore the family apart. If you hadn't been there we never would have made it. Please, go back and talk to us. I can get enough people together to throw the jerks out. Please. You do remember me?"

"Gina Dupont. Yes, I remember you. You took it the hardest as I recall. Gina, my father doesn't deserve this. He doesn't have to be here."

"Lieutenant, neither do you. But I know you care. Please."

Mark turned to Steve and said:

"Steve, let's stay. You put up with your jeers, I can put up with mine. It's that important and you know it." Turning to his left, Mark addressed Gina: "We'll stay."

"Thank you, Dr. Sloan, Lieutenant." Gina turned to her friends and said: "I promised them we'd throw the jerks out. Let's go."

Just as they started to rise, Steve said: "No, Gina. No. I want to talk to you after the assembly."

"I'd like to talk to you, too, for a little bit."

Mark and Steve returned to the stage and DelaCruz approached them: "Thank you, but why?"

Steve replied: "I'll tell you later."

Mark picked up his mike and walked to the edge of the stage.

"Let me tell you what would have happened at the hospital when the second kid from Steve's accident was brought in. He would have been taken to an Emergency Room; Trauma Centers were not yet common. The doctors would have worked quickly to assess injuries. They would have taken blood pressure, drawn blood for analysis and stabilized the patient. Then they would have sent him to surgery to stop the internal bleeding and set the broken arm and leg. Finally, it would be time for the doctor to tell the parents. By that time, those parents would know that someone had died, but that would not be their concern. They would want to know about their son. The doctor would have told them that he would be in the hospital for several days, regaining his strength. After release, he would go home for a couple of weeks until he received a walking cast. He would have made up the schoolwork he missed, but there would have been no fun. No prom or winter dance. Finally, just before the parents were escorted to his room, the police officer would have approached and handed them a citation for their son. The doctor would probably have taken them to their son's room where they would wait through the night in fear. Then there would be weeks of rehab. It's hard and it hurts, believe me. If the boy had died, the doctor would have had to tell the parents. I've done it. It tears your heart out, and, after you've finished, you go into a lounge and wash the tears from your eyes. It's a waste and I wish it would stop."

Mark returned to his chair and Steve went back to the edge of the stage. He looked out on an auditorium of somber faces, reflecting on what they had been told. Finally a hand went up, and Steve acknowledged the student:

"Yes. Do you have a question?"

A boy of about fifteen stood and asked: "Did you really see this accident, or was it a combination of all the accidents you saw?"

"It was a real accident."

Another student stood: "Did you really throw up?"

"Yes."

Then a third voice echoed in the room: "So you've seen a whole bunch of bad accidents. Big deal. So have I. I can drive. I know what I'm doing."

"Have you taken a course for race drivers?"

"Who needs it?"

"You do. And if you think you don't, think again."

"And you'll tell me that I'll know better than to drag race after I have."

"That's true. You will know better."

Finally the school know-it-all stood up: "You're a doctor's kid. You've been pampered all your life. You don't know what it's like to work for everything. You're the big cop coming in here to tell the kids what it's like out there. Make you feel good to do something for the kids you love to arrest?"

"I came here because Ms. DelaCruz asked me to. Yes, I came for your sakes. I also came for your parents' sakes. And, frankly, I came for Ms. DelaCruz's sake; I promised her that I would. I can only tell you how it is. What you do with the information is something that I can't control. The Los Angeles Police Department can only pick up the pieces and then break the news to your families. And I don't take any pleasure in arresting kids."

A fifth student, friend of the know-it-all, stood up and challenged Steve: "You're still a cop coming into a school like ours. You still don't have any idea. Yeah, I heard you say that your father believes in learning lessons. What? Grounded for not taking out the garbage, or for teasing your sister? Big lesson. I bet you didn't grow up in this part of town? Driving is all we've got. But you wouldn't understand that. Where did you grow up?"

"You're right, I didn't grow up in this part of the city. I grew up in Malibu, on the beach. I have never claimed that I had a terribly hard life. I had advantages. But don't for one moment think that I was immune to the lure of the automobile. I was sixteen once, too, you know."

"Yeah, and now I suppose you're going to tell us that you got busted for reckless driving. What'd you get? A ticket? That daddy had fixed?"

"No. I got a week in the hospital, a citation, a research project on teenage driving deaths and grounded for six months."

There was an audible gasp and Gina Dupont stood up: "Lieutenant, will you tell us about it?"

"Yes."

Ms. DelaCruz took a deep breath and thought to herself: "I knew something was going to happen today." She walked over to Steve and said: "You don't have to."

Steve turned to her and replied: "Yes, I do. If I'm going to get through to them, I have to. It'll be alright."

He returned and sat on the stage, his legs hanging over the edge. Steve lifted his mike and began to speak:

"I was sixteen, and had been driving for about four months. I was in heaven. I lived for surfing and driving. I watched NASCAR and Indy racing every weekend. That was what I would do when I grew up. My mom and dad kept telling me to be careful, to take it easy. I kept saying that I would, but I also kept forgetting. Speed was too much fun, for me and for my best friend Matt Batterbury. We were lucky for a very long time. We had a few close calls, but no accidents. Just like those kids in the accident I described-we thought we were indestructible. Our world came crashing down one Friday night. We were out cruising and playing a little chicken on some of the less-traveled streets. Finally, Matt challenged me to a drag race on Mulholland. At first I said no. I remembered what my mom had said that night. He kept after me and I finally said yes. We went up there and started to race. We went faster and faster. Eventually we got too close to each other and our wheels touched. I spun out and crashed into the hillside. Matt managed to keep control of his car and brought it to a stop. He came back to see how I was and found a mess. He ran like crazy to a nearby house and asked them to call the cops and an ambulance. The owner did and came back with Matt to help. I was out but Matt told me later that I'd hit my head and didn't look good. He said that the cops came and shipped me off. He got a ticket for reckless driving and was allowed to go home."

Steve stood up, picked up his chair and brought it to the center of the stage. He turned to Mark who rose and came forward. Another student asked:

"Lieutenant, aren't you going to finish it?"

"Not right now. My father is going to take up the story."

Mark sat on the chair and began:

"I told you what it's like for the doctor when an accident victim is brought into the ER. Now I'm going to tell you what it's like for the parents. Steve's mother and I were at home that night watching television. It was one of the few nights that month that I wasn't on call. The doorbell rang and I went to answer it. I was shocked to see two uniformed LA Police Officers standing on my doorstep. Of course I let them in and showed them into our living room. They asked me to sit down, and one of them said:

'Dr. Sloan, Mrs. Sloan, your son Steven has been taken to the hospital. He was badly injured in a crash on Mulholland Drive. He and a friend were drag racing and he spun out and plowed into the hillside.'

It was as though we had been punched in the stomach. Kathryn and I were numb. We couldn't speak. We could only imagine the worst. We left Steve's sister with the neighbors and the officers took us to the hospital-luckily it was Community General where I was on staff. Steve was in surgery and all we could do was wait. The officers stayed with us until Steve's doctor came to speak with us. He told us that Steve had suffered a concussion, had multiple internal injuries and had had his spleen removed. He would be hospitalized for a week and then he would have to take it easy for another couple of weeks. Just before we went up to Steve's room, the officer placed a citation in my hands. Steve would also have to answer to Juvenile Court. The rest of that night was horrible. We waited and waited for him to wake up. He finally did and, like most parents, we could only hug him because at least he was alive. We would deal with everything else later."

Steve picked up the story again.

"Later came about a week after I was released from the hospital. That was the Juvenile Court appearance. Matt and I were called together. The judge was not pleased, and that's putting it mildly. He said:

'Well, Mr. Sloan, Mr. Batterbury, I see you've been playing race drivers and both of you lost. What do you have to say for yourselves?' Neither of us said anything. He looked at us and said: 'Let's see if we can get through to you. Both of you will pay your own citations. Your parents may pay it now, but you have to pay them back. I want letters from your parents when you've done it. Then I want a research paper from each of you on teenage driving and deaths. Twenty pages and they better be good. You are to work alone and I want a letter from your parents attesting to that. You have six weeks to complete the research. I want it typed and in proper term paper format. I'll have an English teacher correct it, and if it's incomplete or poorly written you'll do it over and it's thirty pages. Finally, if I see either of you back here, it's three days in Juvenile Hall. Trust me, you don't want that.'

Matt's father started to protest but dad stopped it, and suggested that he let well enough alone. Dad and Mom then turned to me and said: 'You're grounded, Steve, for six months. You come straight home from school or go to the library to do the research. Your mother will pick you up.' If you think the grounding was bad, you should live through your mother picking you up at school. I thought I'd die. I lived through it, of course, but writing the paper taught me a lot. Believe me, I slowed down and never took driving for granted again. The citation carried a $200 fine. Took me months to pay dad back. Then I did get lucky. Dad enrolled me in a professional driving course and I learned how to race properly."

The know-it-all stood up again: "I guess you did learn a lesson. I sure don't want to learn it that way. Did you have to do the term paper over?"

"Then listen to what I've said. I noticed computers as I walked through the school. Go to the LAPD Web site: www.lapdonline.org and take a look at what we offer for kids your age. Get involved. And, please, don't drive recklessly. It doesn't pay. Don't find out the hard way as I did. Please. And, no, I didn't have to do it over."

One of Gina's friends asked: "Lieutenant, why did your dad ground you so for such a long time?"

Mark cut in: "Because I didn't want to bury him."

Finally, a student asked: "Dr. Sloan, did this really happen?"

Steve sighed as his father answered: "Yes, miss. I have Steve's hospital records in my briefcase. If anyone wants to see them, come forward when the assembly is over."

DelaCruz stood and walked to Mark and Steve. She shook their hands and took Steve's microphone. Turning to students she said: The students and teachers of Lincoln High thank you both for coming. Please show your appreciation." A round of applause followed.

Steve took the mike and said: "You're most welcome. I hope that you've received a different perspective on teenage driving. If you're not careful, it can kill you. My father and I were glad to come. Thank you for having us."

DelaCruz took the mike again: "Assembly dismissed. Do some thinking over the weekend, and I'll see you all Monday."

A few students walked up to Mark and he took out the hospital records. They perused them and went away shaking their heads and talking. DelaCruz approached Steve, but he said: "Just a minute, I want to talk to one of the kids."

He walked over to Gina who was waiting near the stage curtains.

"Hi, Gina. I'm sorry you had to hear about your sister's death again. If I had known you were enrolled here, I wouldn't have answered as I did. I just wish kids would realize that I don't fire my gun for fun. Are you all right? Would you like my dad and I to take you home?"

"No, Lieutenant. I was a little surprised at first, but I understand why you did it. Thanks for staying. I'm OK. You don't have to take me home. My mom and dad are picking me up. They were hoping to say hello. Can you wait for a little while?"

Steve looked toward the back and replied: "I can wait, but I don't have to. They're here. Let's go."

He accompanied Gina to the back of the auditorium and greeted her parents:

"Hello Mr. & Mrs. Dupont. Have you been coping well? I had a note on my calendar to call you and see how you were."

"We're coping, Lt. Sloan. We'd like to thank you for coming today. When Gina brought home the letter from Ms. DelaCruz, we almost asked for the E.D. Then she said that you would be the officer so we thought to say hello. Did it go well?"

"It went better than most. A few jeers but that's not unusual."

"Who is the older man with Ms. DelaCruz?"

"My father. He came with me to give the medical side of this. I hope I got through."

"We hope so, too. Let's go, Gina. We don't want to get started too late. We're off to dinner and a movie. It was nice to see you, Lieutenant. Thanks again for what you did for us."

"It was my pleasure. Good-bye."

Gina asked: "Lieutenant, may I tell them what you said? I mean about you."

Steve winked at her and replied: "Yes, of course. It will give them a different picture of me." He turned to Mr. Dupont and said: "Believe what she tells you. It's the truth." Steve and Gina shared a private chuckle and they parted company.

Steve returned to Mark and DelaCruz and she asked:

"Do you know Gina?"

"Yes. When I answered that question about firing my weapon, I was talking about the murder of Gina's sister. Didn't you know about it?"

"Yes, but I didn't realize that was the case you were talking about."

Steve continued: "She took it really hard. They were close, really close. I had an opportunity to talk to her when it happened. I think I was able to provide some consolation to the family. I know that they appreciated it when I finally got the boyfriend. They would have preferred that he stand trial, but that was his choice."

"I saw you speaking with Gina when you started to leave earlier. Did she convince you to stay?"

Mark responded: "Yes. She even offered to get her friends and throw your loudmouths out."

"She could have done it, too," replied DelaCruz. "I see that it's already 4:00. Why don't we go to my office and wait for my husband? We're still on for dinner, aren't we?"

Mark turned to Steve and said: "It's up to you. Are you all right?"

"Yes, dad. I'm fine. I noticed a couple of restaurants nearby. Which one did you have in mind?"

"La Cantina. You've not tasted food like this."

"Sure, Ofelia. Let's go."

"Steve, Mark, will you come back next year."

Steve replied: "And say the same thing to the same bunch of loudmouths?"

"No, I'll have a new bunch of loudmouths by then."

They all laughed, and Mark answered affirmatively. Then they left the auditorium in search of Mr. DelaCruz and an evening of excellent food and conversation. Steve and Mark had found two more friends.

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