New Sheriff in Town

THE NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN

By Professor Alan Dale Dickinson

(Fiction)

(Copyrighted)

HE SLOWLY, very slowly, rolled into the quaint little town of Gilroy, California, which just so happens to the ‘Garlic’ capitol of the World, or at least they proclaim that on the big entrance sign when you came into the little Hispanic enclave.

He is part Latino and that was one of the main reason’s that he came up here from his former residence in Santa Ana, California.

He loves all races; however, even though he is mostly Anglo, he has to admit that he prefers Mexican food, Mexican trading goods, and not to even mention, Mexican women.

He also wanted to get out of one of the biggest ‘gangbanger’ areas in the whole country. The murders and mayhem just got to be too much for him after twenty years on the job.

His ride was a jet-black, big-block Chevy V-8 Suburban, with bullet proof windows, doors and roof. Also, it had run flat tires in case they got shot out from under him. And it had 4-wheel drive, and positraction, naturally.

Todd always says, “Go Chevy vV-8, or go home.” He loves all GM cars and trucks, and for some unknown reason, Ford’s not so much.

This tall, dark and handsome stranger was none other than, the ‘New Sheriff’ in town! This was his first day and his name was Todd Spitzer. He was previously the Orange County District Attorney located in southern part of the state, in the gang- infested city of Santa Ana, California.

Even before, he arrived, the good town folks were ‘Gossiping’ about him with each other, and trying to figure out why a big time District Attorney, would come all the way up here, to their little town of, ‘Gilroy.’

 TONGUE’S HAD been waging for months, right after the old sheriff, Don Barnes, retired to go hunting and fishing every day. He loves the mountains and is an avid outdoorsman.

They say that Todd admired Latino women with long dark hair, down to their hips, big round dark brown mysterious eyes, and tall, about 5’9” is perfect height for him.

Most Hispanic women are shorter, however there are a lot of taller ones, you do not see them on the TV for some unknown reason. They are all great cooks he has observed over his many years of living and working with them.

His very lovely bride was also part Hispanic, and Caucasian, and also part Black. She looked like a model, she truly did. She was absolutely ‘drop-dead’ gorgeous as we use to say back in the day.

Her quite attractive frame, was Five foot nine inches tall, 125 pounds. Todd called her his Perfect ‘10’ girl, and she truly was!

And she had eyes that sucked you-in before, you knew what was even happening to you. Wow, is what all the men say when they meet her. And Todd keeps saying that to himself whenever, he looks at her lovely statuesque figure.

IT HAD become a local pastime, for the very bored town-folks, to guess why Todd had come to be, the ‘New Kid’ in Town?

It seemed like every one you talked too, had a different, a very different ‘slant,’ on the yet to be verified, real reason.

The highlight of the week around these parts, was the Country-Western barn and diner dance, held every Friday night at the old O.K. Corral, located at the far end of main street.

By the way, Todd and his vision of loveliness, wife, were excellent country dancers. They were especially good at the Cowboy Cha, Cha, and the best dance of all time, the Two-Step.

Todd had a very manly gate to his style of county dancing, and when he spun his gorgeous spouse, and her dress would rise, all of the men would gasp for air, and, some of the women would swoon. At least that was what he thought they were doing, in his mind’s eye.

ONE GOSSIP--head, said that she knew, for a fact, right, that the reason Todd had left the OC in southern California, was that a ‘sicario’ (hitwoman) for the “Sinaloa Drug Cartel,” was following his innocent wife to intimidate him into getting a drug lord out of the ‘Lambro Prison Facility’ in the city of Orange, right off of the Garden Grove (22) Freeway.  

ANOTHER TONGUE --wager was just as certain that Todd came up north because he wanted to spend more time with his lovely and dedicated wife, as well as spend a lot more time, hunting and fishing.

In the O.C. he had to drive a long way up to Big Bear Lake, Mammoth Lake, Lake Tahoe, the High Sierras or, his favorite fishing hole, Convict Lake, right outside Bishop, California.

Now here in Gilroy, it takes him only about thirty-minutes to get to Lake Mead, for great fishing, only about one hour to get to hiking trails in the beautiful ‘Redwood’ Forest.  

Also, the target range was just east of town square, and he liked to shoot tin-cans, bottles, and target silhouettes, Todd never hunted for animals, he loved them too much.

AND FINALLY, a third well-known local story teller had the real deal reason, of course, why he came, and that was he was shot two-times while he was serving a Warrant on a murderer and hitman for a Mafia (Chicago) Don, John Gotti, Junior.

Todd was in and out of a coma, for a whole week, and the paramedics told him and his wife that he almost died.

There were many, many other ‘Theories’’ about Todd’s relocation, some of them very believable, and others way, way out in left field and totally ridiculous. Like the one that said, Todd was an Undercover Operative for the FBI, in Langley, Virginia. 

And that he was sent into the area due to the huge amount of Fentanyl deaths and the local drug Pandemic, in nearby ‘San Francisco,’ California. This particular Theory was not really that hard to swallow, or was it?

A LOT of townspeople wanted to know what kind of ‘hardware’ (weapons) the New Sheriff was going to be using on the job. There was very little crime in Gilroy, therefore, they did not expect that he would have anything other than the normal .38 Police Special revolver.

As it turns-out, that he was always well healed, very well healed wherever he went. That fact had saved his ‘bacon’ several times back in the O.C. He carried a .40 Caliber Sig-Sauger on his belt, a .357 Smith and Wesson (Dirty Harry gun) revolver in his shoulder holster.

Also, he had a Light weight .38 Caliber 5-shot revolver on his left calf, under his uniform pants, just in case of an emergency, and if he was caught without the rest of his deadly gear.

As well as in the truck of his big-bad Suburban SUV, he had a custom-made Dickinson 12-gauge Shotgun. And, a MR-15 fully automatic rifle. Also, he had a Savage 20-gauge Shotgun for close range.

Todd was an expert with all of his ‘Man toys,’ and also any other weapon on the market. He has been target shooting his whole life. His Uncle Whitey taught his to shoot when he was a kid, up in the Bishop Resort Area, in the White Mountain Range.

TODD WAS an excellent marksman; he was a sharpshooter when in the Marines when he was real young. Also, he served a tour in Afghanistan, and another tour in Iran.

Also, he was a senior member of the joint Orange County Law enforcement ‘SWAT’ team. It was comprised of members from several Police Departments in the OC, including the outstanding Brea P.D. where Dr. David Alan was the acting Police Chief.

It also included expert snipers, and hostage negotiator’s, from the OCSD (Orange County Sheriff’s Department), head up by the excellent Don Barnes, Sheriff and Chief Coroner for the OCSD.

TODD WAS having a quick bit to eat at “Jan’s” local diner. It was built in the 1950’s, and it looked like it had not been updated since? However, their food was absolutely delicious, it truly was.

It tasted like real home cooked food and in reality, it was. Todd was having the Lumber Jack breakfast. Which consisted of, a New York steak, rare, hashbrown potatoes, scrambled eggs, and sourdough toast. And also, a big glass of ice-cold milk, for as Todd always says, “Everybody needs Milk.”

Todd looked out the large Diner window, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a black Ford Exposition SUV, and it was moving real, real slow. It was a little bit weird, it was out of place, and it was just a little bit unnerving for Todd.

All of its windows had black Limo tent on them. You could hear the huge Ford 5.7 Liter V-8 engine, clear inside the diner because it was so loud. It was lowered and had ‘spinner’ hubcaps on its 22” magnesium wheels.

           You could not see who was inside, albeit, Todd felt pretty sure it was several people, and he also thought that they were in town for no good reason.

As a matter of fact, he thought, immediately, that it might, just might, be someone from his past coming up here to tell him ‘Goodbye’ and RIP (Rest in Peace).

           JUST AS Todd leaned over to reached for the ketchup bottle for his steak and hashbrowns, he heard a little noise, just a sound, which got louder by the second, and then he heard the big picture diner window Explode (blow-out), and turn itself into a million little pieces.

           The glass particles ‘rained’ down upon Todd’s head and as well as his whole body, and he immediately slid down, ‘duck and cover’ just like in school, and under the solid oak table.

           The shots three of them, had come from the very slow moving and quite minising Explorer SUV. It never stopped, it never even slowed down, nor did it speed up. It just kept rolling along at the same exact speed that it had been gliding at.

This crew had down drive by shootings before, and they knew just what they were doing and they also knew not to call attention to themselves as they took a left and got back on the California Interstate (5) freeway.

           Todd crawled out from under the big table that just may have saved his life, yelled at the top of his lungs, “Everyone, get down, get down right now.” And everyone did including, the servers, the customers as well as even the two cooks.

           He grabbed his .357 with his right hand, and his .40 Sig with his left hand, and wiggled to the side door. He slid on his belly to his Chevy SUV, and popped open the trunk.

HE LOOKED around to make sure that those Fools, did not make a U-turn and come back to finish him off. And it was a good thing that he did as three more shots wisped by him and went into the back of his SUV.

They had indeed, made a U-turn, gotten off the 5 Freeway and came back to finish what they had started. And that was to put Todd six feet under. Todd did not have any idea why, or whom, wanted him D.O.A. (Dead on Arrival), but I can assure you, he was going to find out who these brazen ‘Tortfeasors’ (criminals) were, and who sent them, and he was going to find out, and find out real, real, fast!

He would track them down, he would find them, he would put handcuffs on them, and he would put them in jail, not necessarily in that order. He was as mad as a ‘wet hen.’

Within a split second, he was up and inside his Suburban, driving with one hand and calling on his police radio for help from his little police station in Gilroy.

He then hit the 911 call number, and asked for the CHP (California Highway Patrol) to send a unit to his home to protect his wife.

He also requested 5 units be sent to his location, at the same time, he caught a glimpse of the Explorer heading back toward the 5 Freeway.

He took a short cut across the baseball field, and cut them off before they could jump on the on-ramp.

TODD PULLED right in front of the Ford and pulled out his ‘Dickinson’ 12-gauge pump shotgun, and very rapidly pulled the trigger, two times. One shot blasted out the front windshield, the second round took out the radiator, which killed the big engine.

He could now see the occupants inside the SUV, there were two in the very rear seats, two in the middle seats, and two in the driver and passenger seats up front. A total of six killers and they looked like gangbangers, and they wore Red- bandana’s, around their heads. (Bloods).

Todd knew some bangers back in the OC and they were kind of friends of his, he had helped several of them get out of their gangs, without being killed, and they liked him as he never harassed or vicariously oppressed them, like some other law enforcement people had done in the past.

Like I said Todd, liked Latino people even bangers, he was not biased in the least, members who were raised in bad environments and with ‘not-so-great’ parents.

The driver, and passenger up front, were both killed by the splintering windshield glass and the shotgun pellets. The other four ‘bailed’ out the back doors and hid behind the big SUV.

TODD CAUGHT one Sicario running away, and took him out with a single round from his trusty .357 magnum. Then another made a break, and he was dropped by a round from his .40 Sig-Sauer automatic pistol.

That left just two, killers, and Todd yelled out to them, “Drop your weapons, and surrender, right now, and I promise you that you will not be harmed, and that you will get a fair trial.”

Their response was not what he was hoping for, instead, it was four gunshots, from 9-millimeter Glock, a favorite of the drug cartels. Todd got down and dirty and crawled under his Chevy, and shot one of the bad guys in the leg, and he dropped like a hot potato.

Then the lone ranger banger, took off for the freeway entrance, Todd got out from under his SUV, and yelled one last time, “Please amigo, don’t do it, just throw your gun down, in the dirt, and we can work this out.”

His response surprised Todd, surprised him a lot. The guy said, “I know you Mr. Spitzer, and you have a good reputation for helping our people, and giving back to our community.”

Then, before Todd could respond, he added, “I trust you to give me a fair shake, and that nothing shall happen to me while in your custody.”

And he was absolutely correct, nobody, including the Sinaloa drug cartel, would get to him (Angelo Ortega Ramirez) while he was under Todd’s protection, indeed!

JUST THEN, three CHP cruisers pulled up fast, real fast and slid several feet, and six officers jumped out and ran over to Todd, to make sure that he was alright. They told him right away, “We have a man at your home, right now, and you wife is just fine.”

Todd said to himself, not to the officers, “I thought that I was done with all of this type of crap, when I left Santa Ana, but I guess that I was wrong.”

Then he smiled, a great big smile, and thanked the officers who had come to save his life, if he had not already done so by himself.

The End.