Secrets and Lies

His health fading quickly, Starsky writes a letter to his daughter confessing a secret he’s kept for 40 years.

Dearest Janie,

I’ve decided to write this letter while I still can. As you know, the chemo makes me nauseated and the radiation treatment leaves me feeling exhausted most days, but I’m running out of time, and there are so many things I need to tell you. So many goddamn things. As I mentioned on the phone last week, the doctors don’t think I’ll be around in six months’ time.

I know I could just wait until next month when you’re in town on break from your tour, but I don’t know what my health will be like then, and I need to get this off my chest before it’s too late. Besides, I think that some things are best written down, where they can be more easily digested and there’s less chance of a misunderstanding.

There are a lot of things about me that you don’t know, sweetheart, but it’s not because I don’t love you. In fact, I love you as much as any dad can love his child, and then some. But there’s someone else I loved once, too. Still do love him. Always will. And before I shuffle off this mortal coil, I need to tell you about him.

His name was Hutch, and he was my partner and best friend when I was a cop in Bay City before you were born.

I loved him more than mere words can express, and he died because of me, and I’ve lived with that guilt and remorse for almost 40 years. And most of what I’m about to tell you is something that I’ve never told anyone else, which brings with it a whole other kind of guilt.

Hutch and I met at the police academy in 1968 and we hit it off instantly. We had the kind of chemistry that you only see in the movies, and he quickly became the best friend I ever had. When we were assigned to uniform duty, we were each paired with an older, veteran beat cop, but we stayed in touch, often meeting up for dinner or drinks on the weekend at our friend Huggy Bear’s restaurant. That’s right, I had a friend named Huggy Bear. Don’t ask me what his real name is because I never asked him.

I’d ask him now if I could, but like most things in my life, it’s too late. Huggy’s been gone these past ten years, may he rest in peace.

A few years later, after Hutch and me had both been promoted to Detective, I asked my superior officer if I could be partnered with Hutch. He had to pull a few strings, but he made it happen.

Me and Hutch worked in the 9th Precinct in the Homicide Division, and we were partners for almost 9 years. And although circumstances constantly conspired to try to break us apart — nothing, and no one — ever could.

Until we broke ourselves apart.

I’ve told you that your mom, Kira, died in the line of duty, and that she loved you very much. But the truth is, I never even knew she was pregnant until a close friend of hers called me one day to tell me that she had died and left behind a little girl. You were just a little more than two years old, so you probably don’t remember much about her.

I’ve never told you much about my life as a cop in Bay City because I had too many regrets and too many bad memories. Still, I wanted to tell you about Hutch when you were growing up, but it was never the right time, and I didn’t know how to explain what happened between us or why I moved back to New York without him.

I told a co-worker once that Hutch was closer to me than my brother and I meant it. You might think that me and Uncle Nicky are close, and in a way we are, but the friendship I had with Hutch was something different, something rare and precious. A thing that only comes along once in a lifetime and only if you’re really, really lucky.

We went through a lot of things together when we were cops, things you wouldn’t understand. It’s like I’ve always told you about my time in ‘Nam. Some things, you just gotta be there to experience for yourself. But I’ll do my best to try to explain.

One time, Hutch was kidnapped by a mob boss who shot him up with heroin and got him hooked, but I found him and helped get him clean. It took a few days, and the worst of it was in the very beginning. He’d been missing for four days when I found him and was a complete mess. He was confused and dirty and shaking, his eyes staring vacantly like he didn’t know where he was. He was covered in puke and sweat, and he cursed at me for offering him coffee instead of smack, but I held him in my arms until the worst of it had passed. I didn’t care how many names he called me, or how much hatred he showed towards me because I wouldn’t give him what he wanted.

I had never felt such love for another person in my entire life than I did that day. I loved him so much that it literally hurt in my bones.

A few months later, when I was shot by some hitmen who held us hostage in a restaurant late one night, Hutch fought to save my life and the lives of the innocent civilians who were trapped with us. And all the while, he took care of me. He did what he could to stop the bleeding, dabbed cool water on my face, held me in his arms, and leaned his head against mine so tenderly that I wanted to cry. But we managed to make it through because we had each other. When we worked together as a team, there was no obstacle we couldn’t overcome. Unfortunately, we didn’t always remember that.

I don’t have the energy to write about everything that happened to us as cops, or as friends, but suffice it to say, that no matter how many times one of us was shot, poisoned, threatened, or kidnapped, we always had each other’s back. Always. We loved each other deeply, but we sometimes didn’t know how to deal with that love.

One time we were undercover at a taxi dance club, investigating a serial killer who was targeting the blonde dancers who worked there, and your mom was assigned to work with us. You probably have no idea what the hell a taxi dance club even is. Maybe you could look it up on Google some time.

Kira was undercover as one of the dancers, and she was supposed to lure the killer out into the open. I don’t want to get into the dirty details, but I started falling for her and I told Hutch about it. But it turned out that he had feelings for her, too, and that led to us having the only really big fight we ever had. And it was a huge fight, and we got physical. We came to blows over your mom, but we eventually realized that we couldn’t let anyone break up our friendship, because we loved each other too much. So from then on out, we decided that we’d never let another woman come between us. And none ever did.

After we finally nabbed the bad guy, Kira transferred to another precinct and Hutch and I never saw her again. Like I said, neither of us ever knew she was pregnant, so when I got that phone call three years later saying I was your dad, I wondered how Kira could have been so sure it was me and not Hutch.

Now I think she wasn’t. But Hutch was already dead by then, so she named me as your dad when she was on her deathbed. And I’m forever grateful to her, because I love you so very much.

My hand is starting to get tired now and it’s beginning to shake, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to write, so I need to keep going. I hope you can read this ok. You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just type it on my computer and print it out, but my printer’s been on the fritz lately, and since I’m not long for this world, I didn’t see a point in buying a new one.

A few weeks after the case with your mom ended, a couple of hitmen tried to assassinate Hutch and me. He was spared, but they shot me three times with machine guns and I almost died. In fact, I did die, but the doctors were able to revive me. They thought it was the defibrillator that brought me back to life, but they were wrong. It was Hutch.

Then they told me I’d never be a cop again, but I surprised everyone. And so me and Hutch went back out on the streets, and we were closer than ever, and life was good for a little while. Until it wasn’t.

You see, Hutch got a little too drunk one night, and he kissed me and confessed that he loved me, and I’m ashamed to say it, but I freaked out. I insisted that I wasn’t into guys and had never thought about Hutch that way before, so I pushed him away, a little too roughly. In fact, I shoved him hard against the wall, and then I told him to go to hell.

Then I got in my car and drove up the coast until I ran out of gas. And after I flagged down a trucker who dropped me off at the nearest gas station, I went back to my car, filled it up, and kept driving north until I got to the Oregon border.

I checked into a motel and then I called my captain at police headquarters and told him that my Ma (your Grandma), had suffered a heart attack and that I’d flown to New York to see her. I hated that I had to lie to him. He was a good man, Captain Dobey. In fact, he was always like a father figure to me and Hutch.

Anyway, I guess he told Hutch about Ma, because Hutch called her right away, but she told him she was perfectly fine and that she hadn’t heard from me. I found out the next day, which was a Friday, because I always called your Grandma on Fridays. Well, let me tell you, she let me have it but good. She couldn’t understand why I would say such a terrible thing about her. So I lied. I told her that a girl I’d been dating had broken up with me and I had to get out of town for a few days to deal with my feelings.

The next time I talked to her, she mentioned that Hutch had called several times looking for me, but each time, she told him I wasn’t there and didn’t know where I was. It was the truth, but for all I know, Hutch thought that Ma was lying to him at my request. He must have been devastated, wondering if I would ever come back, or if things could ever be the same between us.

I spent a week in Oregon thinking about Hutch and what had happened, and I realized that I had been in denial for years. In fact, I had been lying to myself my whole life. I didn’t know what it was called at the time, but these days, they’d call it internalized homophobia. See, I didn’t run away because I was repulsed by Hutch’s kiss; I ran away because I wasn’t.

I never told you about John Blaine, did I? He was my good friend and mentor in the police department, and one day Hutch and I found out he was gay, and I had a really hard time processing it. Eventually, I realized why.

I finally admitted to myself that I wanted the same thing that Hutch wanted, and besides, I already missed him terribly. I wanted desperately to see him, to hear his voice, to see his smile. I tried repeatedly to call him at home, at work, at Huggy’s place, but no one knew where he was.

So I drove back down to Bay City as fast as I could, but by the time I got there, it was too late.

They found him in an alleyway about a block away from a gay bar downtown called the Green Parrot. Afterwards, the cops interviewed some of the patrons there, and they all said the same thing — that Hutch had gone there to ask questions, and that he’d turned down every guy who tried to hit on him. He told them that he was in love with someone but had been rebuffed, and because the man was his best friend, he didn’t know how to make things right.

He went there to get advice, but instead, he got a knife to the heart.

And when I found out what happened, it felt like I’d been knifed in the heart, too. And that knife left a gaping hole that could never be filled, and even after 40 years, it hasn’t gotten any smaller. If anything, it’s grown larger.

Someone found him in the alley bleeding to death and called an ambulance. The paramedics told the cops at the scene that Hutch kept mumbling the word stars over and over, and they didn’t understand why, because it was a cloudy evening and there were no stars visible in the sky.

But he wasn’t saying stars, Janie. He was saying Starsk.

Like I said, we had always been there for each other, and I fully believe that he expected me to show up, like I’d always done before, like we’d always done for each other. But this time I didn’t, and he died a few hours later in the hospital. I think he held out as long as he could. He trusted me, and I let him down. For the second time that week.

It never should have happened. Hutch was a tough cop, really tough. Especially when it came to bad guys. He could beat them up like it was nothing. He was tall and lean, but also strong and athletic, and he was built like a tree trunk.

Did I tell you how he was trapped under his car for two days and two nights after a hitman ran him off the side of the canyon road? By the time I got to him he was suffering from dehydration and hypothermia, but he never gave up hope that I would find him in time.

I bought him a new car, too, just like his old one. And you’ve got to understand that I hated his car. It was a piece of junk on four wheels, but he loved it, and I loved him. I would have followed Hutch to the ends of the earth. I’d have done anything for him.

But when push came to shove, instead of following him, I told him to go to hell.

And then I went to hell instead.

They said that a guy who recognized Hutch as a cop saw him leaving the club and attacked him in the alley as he was walking towards his car. Witnesses heard the man yelling gay slurs just before it happened. And I’m 100% to blame. If I hadn’t run away from Hutch, he would have never gone to the Green Parrot alone that night.

And the worst part of it, is that Hutch died thinking I hated him. Can you understand how that’s eaten away at me all these years? Can you understand why I’ve never told anyone?

But that’s not all. There’s something really important that I need you to know, Janie, and I hope you’ll forgive me for keeping it from you until now. You see, I’ve always told you that you get your blonde hair from your mom, but the truth is, your hair color comes from your dad, because your mom wasn’t a natural blonde. And as you know, neither am I.

Kira confessed to me after I found a bottle of peroxide in her bathroom and questioned her about it. Normally, I wouldn’t have cared, but the reason she was assigned to work undercover with us on the case was because they needed a blonde female detective. So she bleached her hair and asked for the assignment.

I wish you could have known him. He was the most gentle, caring soul I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss him terribly. After he died, I quit the force. I didn’t want to be a cop without my partner, and I couldn’t stay in Bay City. Not without Hutch. So I moved back to New York.

The next year was the worst year of my life, even worse than the year my Pop died. Of course, I was devastated when the mob killed him. I was just a kid, and suddenly I was the man of the family. But at least my Pop died knowing that I loved him.

After Hutch died, I cried every day for a year. He was my everything, and I didn’t know how to live without him.

I only really began living again when you came into my life, but just think how wonderful it would have been if Hutch and I could have raised you together! He would have loved you so much. And he was great with children, so patient and kind. He would have sung you lullabies every night when you went to sleep. He had a beautiful voice, just like you do. I know you’ve always assumed you got your singing voice from me, and I let you think that, but believe me, I couldn’t hold a candle to Hutch when it came to that.

There’s one more thing, and then I’ll let you go. You probably assume I want to be buried in the plot in Brooklyn next to my Ma and Pop. I know that’s what your Uncle Nicky thinks. But my Last Will and Testament says otherwise. My lawyer will let you know about my plans after I’m gone. But just so you know, a long time ago, I bought a plot in a cemetery just outside of Bay City overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It’s the plot next to where Hutch is buried.

He was born and raised in Duluth, Minnesota, but even though I lived in California a lot longer than he did, Hutch was a California boy through and through. Me, you can take the boy outta New York, but you can never take New York outta the boy.

But if I gotta spend forever somewhere, then next to Hutch is where I want to be, no matter where that is.

He told me once that he’d loved the sea since he was a kid in Duluth and that’s why he’d come out to California after college. Of course, his parents wanted him to be buried in the family plot in Minnesota, but I had power of attorney over his affairs. As soon as he got out of the hospital after being trapped under his car, Hutch went to see a lawyer and signed the paperwork. So it was my decision to make, and I decided to have him buried near the ocean, and near where he and I had lived and worked and played and loved each other.

His parents were angry with me and cursed me out for days. But I felt it was what Hutch would have wanted, and I wanted to be able to do one last thing for him. I hope it won’t be too much trouble for you to fly out to California for my funeral, but if it is, I’ll understand.

You might be wondering why I kept the truth about you from Hutch’s parents — your grandparents. But you gotta understand something. Hutch didn’t have a good relationship with them. He loved them, of course, because that’s the kind of man he was, but his fondness for the sea wasn’t the only reason he moved two thousand miles away from them as soon as he got the chance.

For a long time, I debated telling Hutch’s parents about you. I went back and forth, trying to decide what would be in your best interest, but I was terrified that they would take custody away from me. They were wealthy people and could hire the best lawyers. So in the end, I decided that I couldn’t tell them the truth.

And by that point I’d already told so many lies to so many people, what was one more?

I pray you’ll forgive me. I’m not proud of the secrets I’ve kept or the lies that I’ve told, but I hope I’ve been a good dad, and that you’ll understand that everything I did, every decision I made — good or bad – I did for you.

But if you can’t forgive me, maybe that’s what I deserve. Because I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to Hutch.

Lately, though, I’ve been thinkin’ about the afterlife. Whether there is one or not. I don’t think there is, but what the hell do I know? But I’m not so scared of dyin’ anymore. And I’m pretty sure that Hutch would forgive me. In fact, I know he would.

So I’ve started fantasizin’ every night as I lie in bed unable to sleep, that once I’m buried next to Hutch, and the funeral is over and the few mourners have all gone home, that he’ll turn to me and smile that radiant smile of his, the sun reflecting off his luminous blond hair, and he’ll say, “Hey partner, what took you so long?”

I really hope that happens. I really, really do.

-Dad