Harvey Robber Case

Two weeks before he was supposed to start at a firm in Boston, Harvey’s best friend was in an accident in Virginia. Harvey broke land speed records getting to the hospital in Staunton. His friend was okay, banged up, bruised, and suffering two broken ribs, a concussion, and a sprained wrist. His wife was sore and bruised, as were his two young daughters that had gratefully been asleep at the time of the wreck and hadn’t processed what happened until much later. Pacing about the hospital waiting area, Harvey had seen five attorneys all waiting for his friend to be released so they could begin a lawsuit against the tractor trailer driver who had nicked them and sent them into the guardrail. That’s when Harvey had decided not to be a lawyer.

One, he knew guns very well, and having used them extensively in service of his country, he also knew the people comfortable with them. The Bank Robber was not one of them. And two, he also knew the shoes.

He had seen the shoes once before, only the laces had been black and the idiot wearing them had been a dark haired punk with enough metal in his head to transmit a wireless signal. His father had brought him in to see one of the partners about a sexual assault charge, something the father felt would ruin the chances for his son to attend Yale in the fall. Harvey was required to do the research on the case, not to find evidence of the young man’s innocence, but to find everything that would ruin the police officer’s credibility. Preferably, his career too, said the partner.

Harvey had found nothing, and what he did find, he shredded and buried electronically so that even a former colleague in special projects would have had trouble finding it. It wasn’t that the officer was above reproach. Like any individual in a position of responsibility, he had cut a few corners and bent a few rules to get where he wanted to be in life. It was just that the boy in the shoes had really pissed him off, and knowing what he did about life and having seen some of the dark side of it, he couldn’t justify letting the little punk get away free while a relatively good man was punished for doing his job. There were some crimes Harvey struggled

I’m looking at life in prison for this shit. There’s no way a guy like me can survive prison, you know what I mean?”

Harvey shook his head, “There has to be something or someone worth living for.”

“There’s nothing, Stick Man.”

“Then someone,” he insisted.

The Robber’s eyes clouded. “I thought there was. I loved him like my own, understand? But she says that he isn’t and it was all a mistake.”

The police officers called again over the megaphone. Harvey felt the telltale twitch increase in his skin. SWAT was closing in.

“Come out with your hands raised and release the hostages. The district attorney is willing to work with you.”

Harvey snorted. To his surprise, The Robber’s lips quirked upwards at the corners.

“What? You don’t believe him?”

Harvey shook his head, “I’d rather talk to you a little more. How’d you get the shoes?”

The Robber shrugged, “Gift, from my parents. They’re big money, but after this, I’m pretty sure I can kiss my inheritance good-bye. Unfortunately, that is the only thing they are good for. Told you, Stick Man. There’s nobody.”

“There’s me,” Harvey said.

The Robber backed away a step and pointed the gun at Harvey’s chest.

“You bat for the other team, Stick