Lana asked, "What do you think Nora Lure would tell us to do?"

Gail looked at Fred as though she too expected an answer.

Fred replied, "She'd probably tell us to say nothing or 'No comment' about everything."

Lana remarked, "I know that look, son. You're not going to, are you?"

Fred responded, "Department policy forbids me from revealing specific information about an ongoing case without permission, so I won’t. That doesn’t apply to what happened to me years ago. I think the citizens of Port City can handle the truth."

Aunt Gail complained, "You’re going to ruin the reputation of our family!"

Fred stated, "A principle in public relations is if caught in a wrongdoing, admit it fully and fast. It's a flash in the pan, rapidly done and over."

Lana suggested, "Maybe Gail and I could sneak through the school and out the back."

Gail said, "That way is not wheelchair accessible, dear. There are stairs."

"It'd be better if you two came with me. More photogenic," Fred said.

"All right, if you think so," Lana replied.

Fred pushed Gail in her wheelchair down the aisle. As long as the path was fairly straight, he found the wheelchair pushing didn’t hurt his ribs.

At the entryway, Lana held open the door. Fred pushed out Lana in her wheelchair, grimacing a little from his ribs as he had to make an extra effort to get it over the door jamb.

Outside, rather than just Gary Alexander and his cameraman, there was a young woman from a rival television station with her own camerawoman. In addition, there was an older man with a notepad and another older man who was a still photographer. Fred knew those two men came from the city newspaper. Fred guessed these other reporters and photographers had been there all along, but only Gary and his cameraman had the bad grace to interrupt the service.

Most of the congregation had waited in the parking lot to watch. Fred spotted Gary Alexander standing by Mr. Shuster. Fred smiled at the image, because it made a strong contrast between tall and lanky Gary in his cowboy apparel with snakeskin boots and the shorter and plumper Mr. Shuster in his pinstripe three-piece suit with a narrow red tie and black Oxford shoes polished like a mirror.

Fred turned from them and saw that Mrs. Lewis was also in the parking lot with a placard. It had an enlarged photograph of Eric, apparently taken from a yearbook picture, and a slogan that read, "Stop Cops from Killing Our Children!"

The attention had apparently been concentrated on her, but then turned on Fred when he came out.

It wasn't Mr. Alexander, but the young woman from the rival local TV news who asked, "Officer Vigeretti, any comment on the claim made by Mr. Shuster that when investigating Eric Lewis’s death for his client, Eric’s grieving mother here, he uncovered your illegal drug use?"

She stuck the mike at him, but looked bored, like she expected an inevitable answer of no comment. Fred found it interesting that right off the bat Mr. Shuster's name was mentioned.

Fred calmly stated, "I've smoked marijuana, if that's what you mean."

Unprofessionally, the young woman stuttered, "You...you admit that?"

Fred replied, "I see little point in denying it. I was caught with a joint, which means a marijuana cigarette, when I was a college student at Port City University. It's written up in the November 4th, 1971 campus newspaper, Port of Call. I'm sure you can dig up a copy without too much effort."

Fred noticed that Mr. Shuster frowned at this.

Regaining her composure, the woman who couldn't have been born yet when that came out asked, "Are you saying the last time you used marijuana was 1971?"

Fred said, "Not exactly. I had my first joint when I started college in 1968. I had my last joint in March of 1972, when I decided to take my life in a different direction. I still had a year of college left when I quit. I graduated in May of 1973. In June, I started in the police academy."

The older male newspaper reporter asked with a wink, "Officer Vigeretti, would you say were you a hippie back in college?"

Fred said, "I had long hair and a beard. I wore a jacket with lots of fringe. I even had a peace symbol medallion. I was certainly called a hippie by many people, but I never used the label on my friends or myself. Never liked the term."

Aunt Gail said, "You were so hippie! Your long hair was disgusting!"

The young woman finally placed the time period, and asked, "Were you a Vietnam War protester?"

"I was arrested twice for war protests, but the charges were dropped both times. While I'm embarrassed about the joint, I'm not embarrassed about the protests. I still believe the U.S. shouldn't have been in Vietnam, but I don't believe that we should blame the soldiers for that. I used to blame the soldiers themselves, for which I'm sorry," Fred said.

Gary Alexander then left Mr. Shuster, forced his way to the front, and demanded, "Isn't it wrong after being convicted of using illegal drugs for you to become a police officer who arrests people for using them?"

Fred replied sternly, "That's slander, Mr. Alexander. I was never convicted of illegal drug use!"

Gary Alexander insisted, "Your use of marijuana is documented in the college newspaper! You admit to it publicly. I've found students you went to college with who claim they saw you smoking marijuana."

The reporter from the city newspaper and his still photographer both gave chuckles at that last remark.

Mrs. Lewis screamed, "You should be forced out of the police department! You're a menace!"

After waiting for Mrs. Lewis to finish, Fred explained, "My getting caught with a joint was an internal matter with the university, not the police. I was put on academic probation. I got good grades the next semester, even though I hadn't completely quit smoking joints yet, so I was restored to good standing. I was never expelled or suspended. There were never any criminal charges, so no criminal conviction occurred. That's all there was to it, but it did make it into the college newspaper, in the issue I named. It was a different time. Even the phrase War on Drugs hadn't been coined yet. Although marijuana was illegal, enforcement wasn't nearly as strong as it is now."

The young woman asked, "Did you ever use any drugs other than marijuana?"

"No," Fred replied.

"He's a liar," Mrs. Lewis screamed.

Gary Alexander shouted, "The mother of the murdered boy is correct! I have proof that a year ago, Fred Vigeretti was taking OxyContin. This terrible new drug is killing people on the streets!"

"I picked up that prescription for him," Lana said, then looked nervously at her son, like she feared she had said the wrong thing.

Fred gave his mother a quick reassuring smile, then turned back to the reporters said, "I thought you meant illegal drugs. I’ve had prescription drugs for one thing or another during my life. The OxyContin was a prescription pain medication given to me by my doctor."

Mr. Alexander said, "It's a popular, dangerous, and addictive street drug."

"Sure it is," Fred agreed. "We’ve arrested people who broke in and stole it from drug stores. Despite that, it also happens to be valuable for certain medical uses. My doctor said it was the best drug to use for my condition."

Tilting back his broad-brimmed cowboy hat, Mr. Alexander snidely asked, "What medical use? Drug addiction?"

From her wheelchair, Aunt Gail complained loudly, "Don’t you read the newspapers or watch the news, Mr. Alexander? For a reporter, you seem very uninformed, even if you are new to town."

Fred replied, "I was recovering from a gunshot wound back then. I had three surgeries, all within a few weeks. As Aunt Gail mentioned, my getting shot got extensive coverage in the press."

The young woman reporter was nevertheless old enough to remember that and asked, "Didn’t you save someone named Mr. Black from a drive-by shooting?"

"I was in front of him. I had my vest on, which certainly saved my life and his, but we were both seriously wounded anyway, him in the arm, me in the head. An Uzi submachine had been fired at us. That's a nasty weapon."

Gary Alexander declared, "That is not the issue here."

The other reporters looked at him in some surprise, as it was newsworthy and entertaining to them.

Gary Alexander continued, "The people deserve to know that a Port City police officer is a drug addict."

Mrs. Lewis chanted, "Addict! Addict!"

"Why do you persist in calling me an addict?" Fred demanded. "Because I took a prescription pain medication under doctor’s orders? I stopped when I was told to, so where is the addiction? Or is it because I admit smoking some joints twenty-eight years ago when still in college? This country has had presidents who've done that. I had no difficulty stopping pot, so there was no addiction there either."

The old newspaper reporter asked mischievously, "Did you inhale, Officer Vigeretti?"

"Back then, I thought that was the whole point. Of course I inhaled. I cannot tell you if a certain ex-president inhaled or not. He never came to our parties up here in Maine."

That drew a laugh.

The young woman said, "Since you smoked marijuana, but claim not to have become addicted, do you support legalization?"

Fred replied, "I have arrested people for possessing marijuana. As a police officer, my job is to enforce the laws that exist, not make them. Whether it should be legalized is an issue for politicians, not me."

The old reporter put in, "Officer Vigeretti, that tame answer sounds like it was given by a spin doctor. Will you tell us what you really think? Please?"

"All right, but this my personal opinion, not that of my employer. When I was in college, I was for legalization of marijuana. Later as a police officer, I changed my mind," Fred said.

Gary Alexander asked, "Isn't that hypocritical, Officer Vigeretti?"

Fred replied, "Many people we arrest say that they started on marijuana, then moved on later to harder drugs. For example, a current fad is marijuana laced with PCP, nicknamed wet, which reportedly gives a longer 'high' then just marijuana. It’s not much of a step from plain marijuana to that. Not everybody who tries marijuana will move on to other drugs...I never did and neither did some of my college friends, but others do. Also, the marijuana on the streets today is far more potent than what was around three decades ago. I don't know how my experience back then translates to what's out there today."

Lana declared, "I was so glad when Fred quit. He never did keep his use secret, but flaunted it. It was the Sixties, after all. My husband and I feared he'd move on to harder drugs, but he came to his senses and quit on his own."

The young female reporter said, "Not all people agree with the gatekeeper theory."

Fred said, "I believe it sometimes happens, but it's difficult to prove causation. Also, as I said earlier, a police officer like me does not create the laws. I feel that I've done my duty over the years in enforcing them."

Gary Alexander demanded, "Why did you cold-bloodedly shoot Eric Lewis dead when you should have wounded or wrestling him down?"

Mrs. Lewis screamed, "Murderer! Murderer!"

After waiting for her outburst to quiet, Fred responded, "Department policy forbids me from discussing Eric Lewis specifically, as that is an ongoing case. I will tell you that there is a general policy that if civilians or other officers are in grave and immediate risk, our orders are to neutralize that risk as quickly as possible. There have been many cases across the country where wounding people who had guns did not stop them from continuing to fire. Wrestling with an armed suspect is very risky, and not recommended for many real-world situations."

The old newspaper reporter asked, "Cutting through the euphemisms, are you saying that standing orders are to shoot to kill?"

"Not in most situations. However, when that is the surest way to neutralize a grave and immediate threat, then you might say that. I don't hear it described that way because the purpose for us isn't killing, it's protecting others. Unfortunately, to do that, we sometimes have to...yes...shoot to kill," Fred said.

The old reporter asked, "Are you saying that you were basically under standing orders to act as you did in order to protect the other officer, Sharon Smith, already wounded at the scene?"

Fred said, "I cannot discuss specifics of an active case."

Mrs. Lewis yelled, "He killed my boy when he didn't have to do it! He’s a murderer!"

Aunt Gail interrupted, "Fred, I'm not feeling too well."

Fred stated, "I'm done answering questions. Excuse me."

With that, he pushed his aunt in her wheelchair out toward his car. Like the parting of the Red Sea, the crowd split to let him through. Mrs. Lewis alone remained barring Fred’s path. She gave a look to Mr. Shuster, who made a hand motion, then she also moved aside.

Fred brought his mother and aunt to their home. His aunt felt better once away from the crowd. Rather than stay for lunch, he said that he'd come back for supper. He wanted to be alone for a while. He headed off to his own home. Rather than a crowd like he had expected, there was only one car parked in front, a new, expensive, luxury model. As Fred pulled into the driveway, he saw Mr. Shuster step out of the fancy car. Fred drove his Sable in the garage, then walked out and waited. Mr. Shuster took a longer walk than necessary, taking the sidewalk rather than cutting across the grass. He also was careful where he placed his feet, avoiding contact with any of the autumn leaves lying around.

As Mr. Shuster slowly approached, Fred asked, "Serving me with legal papers again?"

Fred remembered a scene very much like this when he was sued for a drunk driver’s accident. Mr. Shuster had been the driver’s lawyer.

"Not today, Officer Vigeretti," Mr. Shuster said in an elegant, civilized tone, as he brushed a wind-blown leaf off his expensive wool suit. "I may do that in a few days."

Fred said, "My address is in the phone book, as you know. You didn't have to set up a media ambush at my church."

"I promised them a good show there. Did you like Mrs. Lewis’s placard? She will look great on TV. You may think you did well, but wait till your remarks get cut into sound bites! You admitted to smoking marijuana! You did that in front of television cameras and in front of your holier-than-thou church-goers!" Mr. Shuster gloated, patting his extended stomach in satisfaction.

Fred noted, "The statue of limitations is long over for that."

Mr. Shuster said, "The public won’t care about trivia like that. I must admit I didn't expect you to admit to it. I thought you'd stand there and sweat. I was looking forward to that."

"It's not really a secret. The old-timers in the force know. For years it was a big joke that a hippie like me had joined."

Mr. Shuster claimed, "It's not the cops, but the media that's going to crucify you."

"Are they?" Fred remarked. "You know that old newspaper reporter who asked so many questions?"

"I convinced him it’d be worth his time to come to the church. He brought his own photographer."

Fred smiled nastily and said, "I went to college with him and his photographer. Well, I'm not allowed to discuss any specifics of an ongoing case. Thus, I have nothing more to say. Will you please leave my property?"

Mr. Shuster demanded, "I want to know what you mean about that newspaper reporter and his photographer! Were they hippies also?"

Fred grinned and said, "The journalism profession does seem to attract a disproportionate number of them, unlike where I work."

Mr. Shuster asked pointedly and suspiciously, "Did they smoke pot with you?"

"I’m under no obligation to say. Now, get off my property!" Fred snapped.

Mr. Shuster reluctantly left, looking just a bit nervous that his bringing the media to the church might backfire.