Chicago Warriors: The Overhear

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The "Evil One" wanders the streets of the world looking for opportunities. He is especially vigilant for those that are weak or experiencing problems in their life.

Once he gets inside their soul, it's difficult for any mortal to resist his power. He's relentless; he will smother his target with temptation until he wears them down. Once they accept or relent, Satan has gained another disciple. His goal is to create an army large enough to battle St. Michael and his contingent of angel warriors. He holds a grudge. He is full of resentment and hatred toward the Almighty, and will stop at nothing to get revenge for having been cast out of Heaven and damned to the fire forever.

The Devil is evil personified. He sends others out of hell to prowl the earth for more converts. They constantly test human faith in an effort to turn them away from God. Satan set his sights on what should have been one of Michael's Warriors-Officer Sal Rosato. He was certain that this weak human being was now under his control. He would use him to hunt and destroy another believer.

Sal and his girlfriend were out for the night. They were frustrated and upset over Sally's traffic court appearance. They had been at Fox's Pub on 99th and Western for the past two hours drinking more than their share of beer; and neither Sal nor his girlfriend were feeling any pain.

Sal ordered another round for them both. "I've had it with those guys in the 8th District man. Mac has been out to get me forever. That last shooting that I was involved in should have earned me an Award of Valor, instead it got me busted back down to street cop. Shannon, Mister Super Cop Hero, gets his partner killed and everybody wants to make him Cop of the Year!"

Slurring her words, Sally tried to comfort her man. "Sal honeee, why don't you just transfer out of there? Why don't you go over to the 22nd District, they'd respect you there?"

"Those guys aren't any better," Sal said as he chugged half his glass of Coors Lite. "They're all goodie two shoes types, they're all afraid to bust heads. I don't know what kinda cops we got around this city anymore."
Fox's was a popular bar on the South Side of Chicago. It was a great restaurant also, serving some of the best pizzas and beef sandwiches in the area. A lot of cops liked to use it as their watering hole. For a bar owner in a city like Chicago, if the cops liked your place, you were set. You had a steady clientele with built in security as well.

This particular night, Lt. Eric Ottney from the Training Academy happened to be seated at the bar having a sandwich and a beer with his son Mark; he was within earshot of The Hammer. Ottney was a 25 year veteran cop who earned his bars on the street, having been involved in many dangerous, high-profile cases. After riding the seat of a cop car for 20 years, his expertise and knowledge of firearms resulted in the job as head of the Firearms Training Unit at The Chicago Police Academy. For the last five years he supervised and instructed every new recruit coming on the job, as well as all of the in-service training. Lt. Ottney knew Rosato only too well. He was head of the shooting review board that investigated The Hammer's last shooting incident.

Ottney had weighed all of the evidence and wrote the investigative summary, concluding that the circumstances surrounding it were questionable. Rosato used poor judgment and lethal force was not justified in that particular incident. Somehow The Hammer had called in "favors" from some influential politicians after the recommendation came down to fire him. He wound up with a thirty day suspension and demotion to police officer. Now Ottney was tuning in to what this "problem child" was spouting off about to his girlfriend.

"So what are we gonna do at the next court date baby? Am I gonna have a lawyer or not?"

"I'm workin' on that...I gotta cousin that chases traffic cases out in Markham, been doin' it forever. He knows all the tricks on how to beat these a'holes at their own game."

"I can't pay him much..."

"Yeah, I know, I know-enough with the whining already. You're a broken record for chrisakes. I got some markers I can call in with Mario, and besides, I'm lookin' for the next court date to be the last one."

Sally fired up another Kool cigarette, and tilted her head back, blowing the smoke away from Sal. "What are you talkin' about, that Shannon's gonna be back to work by then?"

"Shannon don't know what's comin' his way. When he comes back to work, he's not gonna have his old buddy lookin out for him anymore. He's needs to watch his back-I mean really watch it from all sides. I told him that payback's gonna be a bitch. I'm tired of that holier than thou son of a bitch makin' me look bad all the time. The sooner he's gone, the better off we'll all be. Besides baby, I told you before-no cop, no case."

"Yeah...whatever. Hey, I gotta check my makeup in the ladies room, I'll be right back."

"Naw, forget about it, let's get outta here. I gotta drop you off. I know there's a card game at Bob Richard's joint tonight over on 59th Street, maybe I can make some dough."

The Hammer and Sally strutted out of the bar right past Lt. Ottney without even realizing that he was there. Ottney made a mental note to contact Pete Shannon and give him a heads up on this nut case. It could just have been the alcohol talking, or the danger may in fact be real.

In any case, Shannon needed to be made aware of what Ottney had overheard this night. That kind of talk coming from a guy like Rosato could only mean trouble. Tomorrow he would call over to the WC and leave a message for Shannon to give him a call.

      Next: A New Partner
Previous: Time for The Truth

John Wills spent 2 years in the U.S. Army before serving 12 years with the Chicago Police Department (CPD). He left the CPD to become an FBI Special Agent, working organized crime, violent crime, and drugs.  John Wills is an author of Chicago Warriors: Midnight Battles in the Windy City published by

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