Chapter 1, Part 2
“What’s your name, ma’am?” the deputy asked me.
From the badge on her uniform shirt, I knew her last name was Shaw. She was average height, had twisted her dark hair into a low bun, and looked to be in her late twenties.
She’d shown up quite quickly after an employee had called 911. Not surprising, though. Brunswick County wasn’t exactly overrun with crime. Population-wise it was a small, conservative County. Location-wise it hugged the Atlantic Ocean and the northern border of South Carolina, sandwiched between Myrtle Beach to the South and Wilmington to the North. It was nothing like Raleigh.
“Bellamy Kelly,” I said.
Josh, who was being seen to by an EMT, must’ve overheard because he bellowed, “Her name’s Smelly Belly Kelly, and she stinks.”
“I’ll be with you in a moment, sir.” Deputy Shaw told him before turning her attention back to me. “Can you tell me what happened here?”
“He was calling me names. I tried to ignore him. When I tried to walk away, he grabbed my arm. I defended myself.”
She was still scribbling in her notebook when she asked, “How many times did you hit him?”
“Once.”
“With your fist?”
“No, my elbow. It was a self-defense move.”
“I didn’t do nothing to her,” Josh yelled.
Again, Deputy Shaw turned to him. “Sir, please be quiet while I question Ms. Kelly. You’ll have your turn to tell me your version of events.”
Josh winced as the EMT dabbed at his nose. “Ow, Jesus. Be gentle, man.”
“I asked him multiple times to leave me alone. He wouldn’t back off. Then he put his hands on me.”
With a sigh, Deputy Shaw turned back to her notebook. “Just start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”
I told her the story, and when I was done, she said, “Sit tight while I talk to him.”
Before Deputy Shaw even asked her first question, Josh was already saying, “Officer, I want her arrested. She hit me for no reason.”
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Josh Miller.”
“Okay, Mr. Miller.” Deputy Shaw poised her pen over her notebook. “Tell me what happened here.”
It only took a few minutes for Josh to give his statement. Nevertheless, it involved lots of shouting, swearing, and talking with his hands. Once he ran out of steam, Deputy Shaw walked back to me.
“His story pretty much matches yours,” she said. “I told him if he wanted me to arrest you, then I’d have to arrest him as well. He’s decided against pressing charges. Unless you want to press charges against him, we can wrap this up with just a report.”
“I don’t want to press charges,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay.” Deputy Shaw pulled a business card out of her breast pocket and offered it to me. “If you change your mind, call me.”
I took the card. It listed her full name, Emily Shaw, and a telephone number. “That’s not your cellphone number, is it?”
“No. It’s the number to the Calabash substation. They’ll pass along a message if you leave one.”
“I probably won’t call, but thanks.” I shoved the card into the back pocket of my jeans. “Am I free to go?”
“Yes, Ms. Kelly. If you want a copy of my report, you can call that number. One of the ladies in the office will help you.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry this was such a waste of your time.”
She shrugged. “It’s my job. Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
Deputy Shaw moved toward Josh, and I returned to the pharmacy line. I still needed my prescription.
From across the store, I heard Josh say, “Well, she better not press charges. She’s the one who hit me."
© Bethanni Porter 2024
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