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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: General Interest
- Published: 02/23/2021
Uncle Pringle and Defunding the Police
Born 1929, M, from Roseville/CA, United States.jpeg)
Uncle Pringle and Defunding the Police 2021 (Approx. 1,300 wds.)
“Yes, she’s done it again.” The speaker was Bill Foster, one of the five members of our town Council and the “she” was the new mayor of our town, Weaverville, in upper New York state. The rest of us gathered in my house were my wife Eleanor, myself and Eleanor’s Uncle Pringle, back from one of his mysterious trips to Washington, called there, I suspected, by then President Trump.
Weaverville’s mayor was named Arabella-Camerela-Verdasco. She was of mixed heritage, some African-American, Latino and maybe Native-American. She was an import from New York City and an avowed “progressive.” A short while ago she had proposed taking down the statue of our town’s founder, Jacob Weaver, on the grounds that in colonial times he’d fought in some war against the Indians, which in our day made him a racist. This attempt had been thwarted by Uncle Pringle. Now she had proposed defunding our town’s small police force and the night before the town council had voted 4-1 to do just that.
“I was the only dissenting vote,” said Bill. “I argued that although we didn’t have much crime here we still had a criminal element and defunding our police force would be a signal to them that they could do whatever they wanted. But it was no use. The mayor bulldozed it through. I think the others were afraid to go against her, afraid they’d be called racist or maybe that new thing, being cancelled or something. And besides, all those big cities, like New York, are defunding the police and they didn’t want to be considered backward rubes.” Bill had become a friend since we’d moved to Weaverville. I was a science-fiction writer and it developed that Bill had read some of my books and was a fan. I’d asked him to come over to discuss this latest matter.
“Yes,” said Uncle Pringle. “After the unhappy events of this summer the police are in ill-repute.” Uncle Pringle was a small dapper man who I’d always thought resembled the English actor whose first name he shared, Claude Rains. He’d been in some secret government agency and now in retirement was a consultant, although what he consulted about and for whom was never clear. One thing was clear; he had many high-level contacts and some low-level ones as well, and an uncanny ability to solve problems. In the past, he’d helped out several of our friends as well as myself and my family. In fact, he’d been instrumental in preventing the tearing down of the statue of Jacob Weaver. (See “Uncle Pringle and the Statue” elsewhere in Storystar.)
“Do you think you can help us in this matter?” Bill asked Uncle Pringle.
“Hmmm. I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“I have an idea,” I said. Why don’t you ask your friend, what’s his-name, Tony, he’s in the Mafia, isn’t he, to break into our esteemed mayor’s house. That’ll give her a first hand taste of why we still need a police force.”
“Interesting,” said Uncle Pringle, “and yes, being a crime victim oneself usually does make a person aware of the necessity of having a police presence. However, Tony is rather impulsive and things may get out of control. We wouldn’t want any harm to come to Ms. Verdasco, however much we may disagree with her views.”
“I suppose not.”
“I assume you know the police chief,” Uncle Pringle asked Bill.
“Charlie? Sure. Why do you ask?”
“I may have an idea; it’s a kind of trick, actually one of the oldest in the world, but it’s dramatic and can be effective. When is the next town meeting?”
“I think I can call for an emergency meeting next week. I’ll let you know.”
“Good. Contact police chief Charlie and we can all meet here before. Now I must be going.”
“Another trip to Washington?”
“No, I’m afraid my last rip wasn’t too successful. My friend from New York doesn’t take advice easily. I’m having dinner with a certain doctor who’s a little uneasy at suddenly being thrust into the limelight.”
“Do you mean Dr. F---“
“I’ll see you next week.”
“Do you mean President Tr---“
“I’d rather not discuss it. I’ll see you both next week.”
* * *
Even with the pandemic, the town meeting was fully attended. Everyone had his or her temperature taken at the door. Everyone wore masks and people were seated at what was known as a socially acceptable distance. My friend Bill Foster was up on the stage with the other council members and of course the mayor, seated behind a long table and also spaced apart. After a few other matters were discussed, Bill announced that the police chief, Charlie Cooper, wanted Tom to make a statement. A burly man in his fifties came up to the stage and took the microphone. He said, “I wanted to let everyone know that I’m taking early retirement. It’s been an honor to serve this community for the last twenty years.”
There was a murmur through the audience. “Does your retirement have anything to do with the defunding?” asked Bill.
“Yes, it does. I don’t think that under the circumstances I can do my job in the right way.”
“Who’ll replace you?”
“I don’t know. The other six department members are resigning to take jobs in other towns.”
“Then we actually don’t have a police force?”
“That’s right.” Charlie stepped down and walked out of the building.
Before anything else could happen, Uncle Pringle stood up and in a loud voice said, “Mr Foster, I have a statement to make.”
Again there was a murmur as many in the audience recognized Uncle Pringle from the incident of the statue.
“What is it?”
“This.” Uncle Pringle took out a gun from his jacket pocket and fired a shot. Bill collapsed to the floor, blood spouting from his chest. There followed a commotion as some people screamed, others rushed to the door and others cried for someone to get Uncle Pringle. “Call the police,” said someone.
“You forget,” said Uncle Pringle, “there’s no longer a police force.”
“What do we do?” cried someone. “What do we do?"
“I should think that would be obvious,” said Uncle Pringle. “Bill, you can get up now.” Bill stood up, as alive as ever. “What you have seen was a demonstration,” said Uncle Pringle. I’m sorry to have been so dramatic but now everyone can see, I trust, why a police force is necessary to a community.”
Uncle Pringle had been right; the trick may have been old but it was effective. The Council held a vote and, over the mayor’s objection, unanimously agreed to reinstate funding for the police force. Bill assured everyone that that the police chief and all of his officers would return. Shortly after, the Council adjourned. As we left the building, a furious Mayor accosted Uncle Pringle. “This is the second time you’ve interfered in our town’s business,” she said. “You may think you’ve won but you’re going against the tide of history. There’ll be a lot of changes made and you can’t stop them. And we have a way of destroying our enemies. Don’t think you’re immune.”
“Very interesting,” said Uncle Pringle. “Thanks for the warning.”
The mayor left. “I didn’t like that,” I said. “She’s right about people like her destroying their enemies. People like her who are so convinced of their moral superiority can be pretty ruthless.”
“That may be,” said Uncle Pringle, “but I think your mayor will have other things to think about when she gets home.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your idea about having my friend Tony break into her house. I thought it would be safe as long as I knew she was not there. I told him to take only a few small items. I imagine she’ll be calling the police.”
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