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Table of Contents

Starsky and Hutch deal with a case close to Hutch’s heart. As the investigation intensifies, the truth of their love for one another is revealed, pulling them through the hardship.

Author’s Notes: The California death penalty was ruled unconstitutional by the California Supreme Court in 1972. However, the California Supreme Court later reinstated the death penalty in 1978 via Proposition 7, which passed with public support.

The rest of this story is entirely fictional.

Chapter 1

Starsky straightened in his seat, watching intently as the young man was escorted into the cold, sterile room. A bone-deep chill washed over him, the cruel truth of what was about to happen sinking in. He tried to breathe, but the air felt suddenly thick and suffocating, the inevitable moment drawing closer with every ticking second.

The chamber was small, furnished only with the necessary equipment. Its interior was visible through a large window that separated the condemned man from the gathered witnesses. Starsky heard the echoes of his own ragged breath cutting through the eerie silence, broken by the faint shuffle of the guards’ footsteps as they prepared for the grim task ahead.

He lowered his eyelids, wishing he were somewhere else – anywhere else. It was the first time Starsky would witness an execution, and if he had anything to say about it, the last.

He was not there because he agreed with the death penalty, a practice that had been suspended in California and reinstated into law only a few short years ago. Justice was one thing, but justice by allowing more killing, Starsky couldn’t fathom that logic.

No, he would not relish this day, or call it a necessary administration of justice. He was there because he had to be there; for the accused, who was being robbed of his life, for his family and friends who would have to live with the atrocity of watching him die, but most importantly, he was there for Hutch.

Starsky’s heart sank with sorrow as he watched Kiko Ramos frantically scan the faces of those gathered on the other side of the glass. Kiko’s face was strained, pale beyond his normal complexion, his hands shackled behind his back. He squinted at the crowd, the fluorescent lights above casting a harsh, unflattering glow on his face.

Kiko’s focus shifted to the victims’ families; the loved ones of the three slain teenagers, and the wife of a dead cop. He turned to his mother, Rosa Ramos, who sat next to Starsky, her head bowed and her hands trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks. He then looked lovingly at Molly, who sat upright in her seat on the other side of her mother, holding Rosa’s hand, her eyes red and swollen.

Finally, Kiko’s attention moved to Starsky, who felt his careful composure crumble as he struggled to control his emotions.

Starsky knew Kiko was checking for another face in the crowd – the one face that was missing.

He knew Kiko didn’t see Hutch.

“We will allow you a few last words,” came the unemotional voice of the guard behind Kiko. The guard flicked on the intercom, his movement deprived of empathy.

Kiko visibly swallowed, his mouth trembling as he spoke. “Mom, I want you to know I love you and am so grateful for everything you have done for me. Please, don’t let this change what you think of me.”

Starsky could see the agony in Kiko’s expression as he turned to Molly.

“Molly, I’ve loved you since you came into our family. You’re not like a sister to me. You are my sister. Please, take care of our mother. Give her all the support you can. I know you’re going to do amazing things with your life. I’m so proud of you.”

Kiko turned to Starsky, his gaze despairing as he searched the room.

“Starsky, I know Hutch isn’t here.”

Starsky’s throat went dry as he held back tears.

“It’s okay,” Kiko said, tears beginning to well. “I’m glad he’s not here to see it.”

Starsky’s eyes landed on Kiko with unspoken pain. He wanted to say something – anything – to ease Kiko’s heart, but he knew he couldn’t.

“If Hutch were here,” Kiko said shakily, “I would tell him thank you for everything he’s done for me. I know he tried. You both did. I want to thank you, Starsky, for that too.” Kiko’s dire gaze locked on Starsky’s, “Hutch has been there for me all these years. I never wanted to disappoint him.”

The bailiff’s voice broke through the thick air, cold and impersonal. “That’s enough,” he said, his tone final. “It’s time.”

At the center of the room stood the execution chair, made of heavy metal with thick straps. The chair had a distinctive, utilitarian design: cold, unyielding, and purposely devoid of comfort.

The guard unlocked Kiko’s handcuffs and pulled him down, strapping the trembling young man into the chair, binding his arms and legs, and securing the restraints. The execution team, stationed in their respective positions, silently prepared the gas mechanism.

Starsky had met the prison warden, Robert Caledon, earlier that morning, needing to know what to expect. The warden explained that, at the command of the executioner, the gas chamber doors would be sealed. The officer in charge would then trigger the mechanism, which would release the cyanide gas. The condemned person would inhale the toxic fumes, which would cause them to lose consciousness within seconds, followed by death, typically due to suffocation or the effects of the poison on their heart and lungs. It was meant to be a swift and efficient process.

Starsky could only think of it as cruel and unjust.

He stared ahead, every part of him wanting to look away and shield himself from the finality of it all. But he couldn’t. Not when Hutch wasn’t there. Starsky promised himself he would stay present. He had to remember this moment, every detail; he owed it to Hutch, and he owed it to Kiko.

Fury and rage struggled for domination in his mind over sadness and regret. All their efforts, all their late nights spent on the case, all the appeals, all the pleas, and still, it wasn’t enough. The system had failed them, but mostly, it had failed Kiko. It had been a year of fighting for justice, a fight that became impossible to win.

Starsky thought of Hutch at that moment, as he did most moments of the day. He saw Hutch’s pain reflected on Kiko’s face, pain that neither of them deserved, and looked away, letting that pain wash through him, wishing he could take it away.

Everything from the past year was culminating at that moment, as a young nineteen-year-old boy was being robbed of his life, paying the price for a broken system that would only be satisfied when a pawn was fed to the hungry masses to keep the pretense of justice alive.

Starsky closed his eyes, fighting against the tears he could no longer hold back. He wished it didn’t have to go this way. As he slowly opened his eyes, he saw the metal helmet, connected to a breathing tube, being picked up by a guard and placed over Kiko’s head.

He forced himself to stare at the horrific sight, waiting to hear the executioner’s final command.

Chapter 2

ONE YEAR EARLIER

It was an unusually chilly morning for that time of year. A shiver ran down Starsky’s spine, but he knew it was more likely due to lack of sleep than the temperamental California weather. He tried to shake it off, cranking the steering wheel as he arrived at Hutch’s apartment.

It was Monday morning, and for reasons Starsky couldn’t quite understand, he was exhausted. It wasn’t because of a wild weekend, a hot date, or a night out with friends. He hadn’t even seen his best friend all weekend. If Starsky was being honest, that was the main crux of the problem. Not seeing Hutch made Starsky feel strange. Not worried or uneasy. Just strange.

This strange feeling was new, or at least it had taken on a new form since Starsky had been brought back to life, like Lazarus, from the grips of death. He smiled, almost amused that Hutch had called him that more than once. He supposed it was true, considering he had survived three bullets to the back, bleeding out in a police parking garage, thanks to Gunther, and was somehow still alive to talk about it.

Starsky parked the car, raking a hand through his curls to clear his thoughts. It wasn’t the first time he and Hutch had spent their weekends apart lately. Hutch had met what he called a “lovely lovely” – code for a beautiful blonde woman – at the supermarket of all places. Hutch said he was reaching for a can of black beans when his hand brushed hers as she reached for the same item. He stepped back, politely letting her pick it up, and received her phone number in exchange.

It wasn’t that Starsky didn’t go on dates himself, but for him, women were just for company. What he wanted, he couldn’t have, at least not openly. He figured it was a taboo subject that would remain untouched for the time being.

That didn’t stop Starsky from thinking about that night in the hospital, drenched from the sprinklers, smiling as he dried off and settled back into a fresh, warm bed, thanks to the nurses and medical staff. He had just laid his head back on the pillow when the door opened, and in came Hutch, a mix of a sappy smile and sincere apology on his face. Starsky’s heart flipped over at the sight of him.

Hutch had stood next to the bed, reaching over to adjust Starsky’s pillow, giving it a futile plump on either side of his head. Then, leaning down, his hands resting on the pillow, he lowered himself for a kiss. Starsky greeted the descending lips, allowing gravity to guide them until they met – a light touch at first, then deepening with a natural balance of ease and force.

He felt a surge of pleasure, giddy from the realization that he wanted more. It was the most incredible kiss of Starsky’s life, and it wasn’t because of too many painkillers.

Then, just as quickly as it started, Hutch had pulled away, eyes wide with an apology, mumbling something about having had too much to drink and being sorry for being so bold. Before Starsky could say a word, Hutch got up and walked away, glancing back at Starsky before closing the door behind him.

They never spoke of the kiss again. From that point on, the focus was on putting Gunther behind bars and, of course, Starsky’s recovery. It was never mentioned aloud, but Starsky could feel it – the unspoken tension, the silent question of whether they would ever be ready to take that leap.

So, Starsky waited. He fought to get better, with Hutch by his side, until he was back on the job. That kiss, now months in the past, remained burned on his lips and in his heart.

“This can’t go on much longer,” Starsky whispered to the empty car. He chastised himself for letting it go unspoken for as long as he had. Very soon, Starsky decided he would bring it up in the open.

Before Hutch’s relationship with the blond woman got too deep.

Before anything else could get in the way.

****

Starsky pulled himself together and bounded up the stairs, knocking three times on Hutch’s door as he listened for footsteps. Hearing nothing, Starsky reached into his pocket for a key that he had long ago been given and opened the door.

“Hey, Hutch, tell me your beautiful self is up and moving. Dobey’s not going to be in the mood for excuses, and you know it.”

Starsky halted in his steps. There was a body stirring under the covers of Hutch’s bed, long, blond hair peeking out that did not belong to his partner.

“Hutch?” said a woman from the bedroom nook. “Is that you?”

“No, it’s Hutch’s partner, Dave Starsky,” Starsky responded, turning to the door. “Sorry to barge in like this, but I didn’t realize Hutch had company last night.”

“It’s okay, you can turn around. I’m decent,” said the woman.

Starsky turned to see a beautiful woman with long blond hair, wide, blue eyes, and long lashes, wearing one of Hutch’s denim shirts that went down to her knees.

“I’m Delilah Winters,” she said. “Nice to finally meet Hutch’s partner.”

Starsky smiled sweetly at the woman. “Nice to meet you, too, and I’m sorry again for barging in. So where’s Hutch? Is he watering his plants or something?” He glanced at the greenhouse but didn’t see any movement.

“Sorry, but Hutch isn’t here,” she remarked. “He received an emergency call in the middle of the night and had to leave. He said he would be back in the morning, but I guess whatever happened is taking longer than he expected.”

Starsky raised an eyebrow, intrigued, “I’m his partner, and I’m not aware of any emergency. Do you know where he went?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “Although I think I know who called him.”

“Who?” Starsky asked, his intrigue quickly turned to worry.

“Hutch said the name “Kiko,” and then said something like “that’s crazy,” and that he would call a lawyer and be right down. He got up quickly, got dressed, and told me he’d be back. I don’t know what it was all about.”

Just as Starsky was about to ask for more information, he heard the jostling of keys at the front door. It creaked open, and Hutch stepped inside, his glassy, tired eyes darting between his girlfriend and partner.

“Hutch,” Delilah said, rushing to greet him. “Is everything ok?”

Hutch glanced at Starsky as Delilah threw her arms around him, then drew his attention back to her.

“I’m sorry to have left last night, honey, but someone I know was in trouble and I went to try to help.” He peered at Starsky and then back to her, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m afraid I have to go to the office now. No doubt our captain will be chomping at the bit.”

“I understand. I’ll get dressed and get going,” Delilah said warmly. “I have to be at work soon myself.” She looked at Starsky, adding, “I’m the manager at the First National Bank.”

“Oh, I know where that is,” Starsky said amiably. “It’s next door to one of my favorite Mexican restaurants.”

“El Paso’s? Delilah asked.

“That’s the one,” Starsky answered. “We go there from time to time; Kiko works at El Paso’s bussing tables, right, Hutch?”

Hutch seemed to pale at the mention of Kiko. “Yes,” he said, turning to Delilah. “I was Kiko’s Big Brother for a few years, ever since he was ten years old. He’s grown out of the program now that he’s eighteen.”

“The same Kiko who called last night?” Delilah asked.

“That’s right,” he said with another glance at Starsky, asking him with his eyes not to ask questions. “But I can’t get into it right now.”

“No problem,” Delilah said, planting a kiss on Hutch’s forehead. “I can’t share all the bank’s secrets either. Anyway, I’m afraid I won’t see you for a few days, Hutch. We’re implementing a new security system, and it’s been a nightmare, but video is the thing of the future, I’m told. A new camera at each teller, even cameras covering the parking lot, if you can believe it,” she chuckled. “One day, all privacy will be sacrificed to the gods of video recordings.” Delilah sighed and kissed Hutch’s lips. “Maybe we can get together next week? Call me when you get a minute. We can pick up where we left off.”

“I’d like that,” Hutch said, returning a kiss.

Delilah retreated to the bathroom, and Starsky watched as she closed the door. He cast a curious look at his partner.

“I’ll explain in the car,” Hutch said.

Starsky nodded quietly, feeling a whole new level of strangeness growing in his stomach.

Chapter 3

“Do you know you look like hell? Did you get any sleep at all last night? And do you want to explain why Kiko called you in the middle of the night?” Starsky blurted out the barrage of questions, his concern growing as he merged into traffic.

Hutch’s eyes were bloodshot from fatigue. He had shaved off his mustache months ago, but today he was scruffy, his morning stubble peeking through his normally clean appearance. He wiped a hand over his face as if to erase the sleepless night and said, “Yes, thanks to your first question. Not much, to your second question.” He paused, a worried look piercing through his watery blue eyes. ”As for your third question, I can’t believe it, Starsk.”

“Believe what?” Starsky repeated, trying to focus on the road instead of his agitated partner. “What’s going on?”

Hutch braced himself against the door as Starsky took a sharp turn at an intersection. He inhaled deeply, the words hitting Starsky like a cold wave. “Kiko called me in the middle of the night,” he said, “from jail.”

Starsky’s gaze flicked to Hutch before quickly returning to the road. “What?” he exclaimed. “Kiko? That kid’s a Boy Scout for crying out loud. If he had blond hair, I’d swear he was your clone. What’s he been charged with? Some stupid misdemeanor?”

Hutch gripped the dashboard, his knuckles white. “Nope,” he said, sounding colder now, a steely edge creeping in. “He’s been charged with murder.”

An incredulous laugh escaped Starsky’s lips. “Say that again?” he said. “Kiko? That kid couldn’t hurt a fly! Hell, I saw him rescue a duck from behind your canal house once and take it to the vet. Paid the bill with his allowance, too!”

“I know, Starsk, I know. It’s bogus, and it stinks. I called Danny Walters,” he continued. “You know him. He’s a good, honest lawyer. Walters agreed to take the case. He said he could waive a retainer and figure out a fair fee later.”

“That’s good at least,” Starsky said, calming a little. “Walters is one of the good ones.” He shot a glance at Hutch. “But who’s Kiko supposed to have killed?”

“This is where it gets very bad,” Hutch uttered through a shattered breath. “He’s accused of killing three teenage boys – members of a gang called the Cobras. The Cobras are rivals of a Latino gang, the Warriors. You and I know Kiko’s never been involved with any gang, but they’re accusing him of being a member of the Warriors. They say he killed three of the Cobras last night as part of the gang wars that have been going on in the city for months.”

“Kiko involved in a gang war? That’s ridiculous.”

“There’s more,” Hutch said, his sights securely locked on the snarl of traffic ahead of them.

“How much worse can this get?” Starsky asked, his frustration rising.

Hutch tugged at his nose, a familiar gesture Starsky knew meant he was nervous. He braced himself for Hutch’s reply.

“A lot worse,” Hutch said plainly, like he was reading a police report. “A cop was killed, too. A uniform – John Carpenter. His partner, Samuel Murphy, is an eyewitness. Murphy says he saw Kiko shoot his partner, plus the three guys from the Cobras.”

Starsky clasped his hands around the wheel as he processed the information. “Murphy witnessed it all?” he asked in astonishment.

“Yeah. Murphy says he and Carpenter pulled up and saw a young man- someone Murphy identified as Kiko – pointing a gun at the Cobra members who were approaching the Warriors’ hangout. Murphy says Kiko fired on all three of the boys before they could stop it. Then, when Carpenter got out of the car and ordered him to drop his weapon, Kiko fired at Carpenter. Murphy says Kiko dropped the gun in the bushes and took off. Another black-and-white picked Kiko up a few blocks away.”

Starsky swore under his breath, slamming the steering wheel with his fist. “This is bad, Hutch,” he said. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it. You and I both know Kiko couldn’t have done this.”

Hutch nodded, though the worry on his brow was deep. “It has to be a simple case of mistaken identity,” he said quietly, his fingers clasped into fists. “It was dark. Anything could’ve happened.”

“What does Kiko say happened? Why was he in that neighborhood at that time of night?”

“Do you remember the friends Kiko used to hang out with when he was younger, down by the canal? Hutch prodded. “You were with me once, remember, a few years ago, when I went to find him after he blew me off one Sunday?”

“Sure, I remember, but I couldn’t say who any of those kids were by name.”

“I know, it was a long time ago. According to Kiko, one of them was Jose Garcia. Jose is eighteen now. Kiko says Jose called him late last night and said he needed a favor and to meet him at the Warriors’ hangout. Kiko went after work, and it turned out Jose had lied to him; he was trying to coerce Kiko into joining the Warriors. Kiko said he refused and left after a few minutes.” Hutch swallowed, continuing, “Kiko claims he heard gunshots and sirens as he was heading home, but says he wasn’t at the scene when it happened. I believe him, Starsk. Just because Kiko was picked up a few blocks away doesn’t mean he did anything wrong.”

“Let’s get to the station before Dobey blows a gasket,” Starsky said, trying to remain positive. “Maybe Dobey already knows something we don’t. Maybe Walters has done his job, and Kiko is being released as we speak.”

Hutch let out a small sigh, but the anxiety in his eyes remained.

Starsky knew they had seen their fair share of crime and injustice, but nothing about this situation felt right.

Chapter 4

If Starsky thought there was any hope that Kiko’s predicament would resolve itself overnight, it quickly vanished when they were ordered into Dobey’s office before they could pour a cup of coffee.

Starsky chose the chair directly in front of the captain’s desk, and Hutch sat next to him, his fingers twitching on the armrest.

“I want us to be on the Kiko Ramos case, captain,” Hutch said, not waiting for instructions.

“No way,” Captain Dobey bellowed. “You are not being assigned to this case. A dead cop and gang wars, a huge spotlight will be on this one,” he sighed. “I didn’t know Officer Carpenter very well, but he did serve on the force for ten years, the last year partnered with Murphy. The public will be demanding blood,” he lingered, glaring at Hutch. “You were a mentor to the kid accused, weren’t you, Hutchinson?”

Hutch sat down, his posture displaying his tension. “First of all, yes, sir, I have been Kiko’s Big Brother since he was ten years old. However, you know Starsky and I would uphold every level of professionalism, just like we always do,” he said, his tone firm but respectful.

Dobey’s eyes narrowed, but he gave a stiff nod, as though acknowledging that he couldn’t dispute his point.

“Second of all,” Hutch resumed, saying, “If you assign this case to someone else, how do we know they’ll be thorough? I know Kiko, and I know he’s innocent. If we don’t catch the real killer – a cop killer – then that person is still out there, getting away with murder. I won’t let that happen. They don’t have enough evidence to pin this on Kiko.”

Dobey inched forward, his face hardening as he cleared his throat. “How do you know what evidence they have?”

“Kiko called me last night, sir. From jail,” Hutch retorted, “He told me what happened.”

Dobey raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And how do you know he told you everything?”

“What are you saying, Captain?” Hutch asked, his jaw clenching, “Do you know something?”

Starsky shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the tension on his exhausted partner’s face was brewing to the surface.

“Captain, what Hutch is trying to say is that we don’t think Kiko is capable of what he’s been accused of, and…”

Dobey raised his hand, cutting him off. “Save it, Starsky,” he said. “I appreciate your remarks, but I’d like to remind you both that while hunches are important, facts are what matter most.”

Dobey picked up a file from his desk and slid it across the polished surface toward Hutch.

Hutch picked it up, scanning Dobey’s expression for any hint of what this was about. He opened the file and started to read, “Oh my God,” Hutch said, his hands trembling.

“What is it?” Starsky asked, feeling like there was another seismic shock coming.

“It seems when a cop is killed, things move quickly,” Dobey commented grimly. “We’ve already got a forensics report; they lifted fingerprints from the gun that was found in the bushes.” He stopped, allowing the silence to settle in. “The prints match those of Kiko Ramos. His fingerprints were all over it. And he was picked up three blocks away, running from the scene.”

Starsky looked at Dobey, perplexed, needing to hear it again. “You say Kiko was caught running from the scene? Not just walking down the street, heading home?”

“Read it for yourself,” Dobey rebutted. “It’s all there in black and white.”

Starsky braced for Hutch’s ensuing eruption.

“This is ridiculous!” Hutch spat, slamming the file onto the desk. “There has to be more to this story. We need to be on this case, Captain.”

“Calm down, Hutchinson!” Dobey shouted. “I’ll make the decisions around here!”

Starsky reached over and placed a calming hand on Hutch’s arm. It seemed to help, as Hutch took a deep breath and settled back into his chair.

“Believe me, I’m not pointing fingers at Kiko Ramos,” Dobey elaborated. “I’m just stating the facts as we know them.” He slumped back in his chair, sighing heavily, removing the pen from behind his ear, and pointing it at Hutch. “What I’m saying to you is nothing compared to the pressure that will result from this case. Three eighteen-year-olds, whether gang members or not, were supposedly killed by a Hispanic man who also killed a cop. That will be the headline. There will be widespread pressure to deliver justice for those who were killed.” He moved his pen back and forth between Starsky and Hutch. “Do you two think you can handle that kind of pressure, on top of knowing the accused personally?”

“Captain,” Hutch said as calmly as Starsky ever heard him speak, “I’d rather deal with that kind of pressure head-on than watch it go down from the sidelines. I admit it hits close to home, but if I get even a little off track,” he hitched a thumb at his partner, “he’ll keep me in line. You know that. Please, Captain.”

Dobey looked at him for a long moment. Finally, he sighed, reluctantly conceding the point.

“Alright, you’re on the case. But if I catch even a hint of bias in your investigation, I’ll be pulling you off it. Understood?”

Hutch nodded quickly, “Yes, Captain.”

Dobey rubbed his temples as if to relieve a pending headache. “I understand that Carpenter’s partner, Samuel Murphy, came into the precinct today. Why don’t you start by getting his statement about what went down and what he saw? Then, get down to the city jail and interview Kiko. He’s being held there until his arraignment and bail is set. Get the whole story. If he’s innocent like you say he is, find out how the hell his fingerprints ended up all over the weapon that killed three teenagers and a cop?!”

“Yes, Captain,” Hutch said, standing quickly, ready to head out.

Starsky followed behind Hutch, turning to Dobey before he closed the door. “Thank you,” he mouthed at the captain.

Dobey nodded at Starsky and said, “Don’t let things spiral out of control, Starsky. I’m counting on you.”

Starsky gave a tight-lipped nod and exited the office, the weight of Dobey’s trust settling upon his shoulders.

Chapter 5

Starsky rubbed the back of his neck as he followed Hutch into the elevator. He had started the day with a need to talk to him about that night – months ago – when they kissed. But now, everything had taken a darker turn. The fate of a young man, his partner’s increasing stress about it, and everything in between seemed poised to crash down on Starsky – on both of them.

If there had ever been a right time to bring up the kiss, Starsky knew it wasn’t now.

Hutch’s hand grazed Starsky’s back as he reached out to press the button for the fourth floor, his fingers fidgeting at his side as he stepped back.

“There has to be an explanation,” Hutch said, hotly. “The report must be wrong, or Murphy must have confused Kiko with someone else. It just doesn’t make sense!”

Starsky lowered his eyes as he focused on his shoes, his hand instinctively finding Hutch’s elbow.

“It’s okay,” Starsky said, trying to be heard over the elevator’s whirring. “We’re still gathering all the information. It won’t all make sense right away.”

The elevator chimed as it opened, and Starsky stepped out, leading the way toward the patrol division of the precinct where they were told Murphy was waiting. Starsky pressed his palm against the door of the empty interrogation room, and it swung open, with Hutch following closely behind.

Samuel Murphy was pacing the small, dimly lit room, his police hat on the table, his uniform blood-stained and crumpled. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days, his movements sharp and agitated as he sliced a hand through his disheveled red hair. When he saw the detectives enter, he stopped pacing. “Detectives,” Murphy muttered, glancing at his watch. “I thought I said ten minutes. You’re cutting it close.”

Starsky gave a half-smile, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “Sorry about that. We did our best to get here as soon as possible.”

Murphy chuckled through a hollow laugh. “Whatever. You don’t have to explain the drill to me. I’ve been on the force for fifteen years. Carpenter and I were partnered for a year together.” He placed his hands on the back of a chair. “You two know about partnerships, right?”

“Yes, we do,” Hutch said, his exterior calm as he stepped forward. “And we want to say how sorry we are for your loss.” Hutch’s eyes scanned Murphy’s attire. “It’s clear you had a rough night.”

Murphy offered a curt nod, but it was obvious from the slight tremor in his jaw that he would not be pandered to. “Yeah, rough doesn’t cut it. Good thing my wife already divorced from me, she would have been screaming at me this morning to change out of my stained uniform, but you know what? I don’t care. Let everyone see my partner’s blood all over me. Maybe that will kickstart some sympathy for a dead cop! Heads are going to roll for this.”

“Who said there was no sympathy around here?” Hutch asked, his tone annoyed. “Nobody wanted this, least of all you, I’m sure, but Carpenter was a good cop. He died in the line of duty, and we all respect that very much.”

Murphy sneered like he had heard it all before. “Carpenter thought he could save the world,” he said. “Turns out, he didn’t have a clue how the world works.”

Starsky interjected, trying to cut the perceived tension that was starting to bubble. “It’s got to be hard, Murphy, but we need to ask you some questions.”

“Hard doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Murphy muttered, his shoulders sagging. He took a deep breath and straightened up, wiping his hands on his pants as if he were trying to rub away the blood stains on his clothes. “But I’m here. Let’s just… get this over with.”

“Ok,” Starsky said with a practiced tone he had used so many times in the past. “We’re not here to make this harder on you, Murphy. We just need your account of last night’s events. Can you walk us through what happened?”

Murphy nodded slowly, and for a moment, he looked off to the side, as if gathering his thoughts.

“It was just a regular patrol,” Murphy began, “Carpenter and I were making a routine drive-by in the area, nothing out of the ordinary. We pulled up to that house known by everyone as the Warriors’ hangout. The place’s been sketchy for a while, lots of traffic, shady shit going on. We see some teenagers walking up the driveway. At first, it was nothing too suspicious.”

Starsky watched Murphy’s face closely. It was almost neutral, despite what had just gone down.

“But then we saw him,” Murphy pressed on with a cutting tone. “A Latino youth was standing out front. The punk pulled a gun from his waistband. I could tell by the way he was holding it – he was aiming it at the group in the driveway and he was ready to shoot.”

Hutch raised a finger at Murphy, but Starsky grabbed his arm and lowered it to the floor before Murphy could notice.

“I called out to him and told him to drop the weapon,” Murphy said. “I didn’t want to escalate things, but he didn’t listen. He just kept his finger on the trigger. I gave him one more chance.‘Drop it!’ I shouted. But instead of dropping it, he fired. He hit the three kids, then took aim at Carpenter and hit him right in the chest. I couldn’t believe it.”

Starsky saw Hutch’s upper lip flinch at the mention of Murphy’s partner going down. He knew instinctively what Hutch was thinking: Starsky falling to the ground in the parking garage, three bullets to the back, thanks to Gunther. Starsky reached over and put a light hand on Hutch’s back, and he felt the tension dissipate, even if just a little.

“Then what happened?” Starsky managed to ask.

Murphy’s finger combed his red hair, shaking as he recounted the memory. “I saw Carpenter go down. I thought I was next, but he dropped the gun into the bushes. Just like that. Dropped it and bolted. Took off down the street. I called it in and tried to get to Carpenter, but he was already fading. Another squad car picked up the shooter a few blocks down, but by then it was too late for my partner.”

“How do you know it was Kiko Ramos? Have you ever seen him before?” Starsky asked bluntly.

“No,” Murphy said quickly. “Never saw him before, why would I have?”

“Yet you are certain it was Kiko Ramos?” Starsky asked. “At night, in the middle of a chaotic gunfight, you’re sure?”

“Are you questioning my integrity, Starsky?”

“No,” Starsky countered. “Just asking for the truth.”

“The truth? Sure, I’ll give it to you. It may have been dark, but I remember his face. On any other day, you might say he didn’t look like someone ready to kill. But that’s what being in a drug-dealing gang does to those young Mexican kids in the neighborhood. Hardens them very quickly.”

Hutch lunged forward, but Starsky grabbed his elbow, holding him back.

“Just because he speaks Spanish, you think he’s automatically dealing drugs or part of a gang?” Hutch said, his temper rising. “There is no proof that Kiko was part of anything like that!”

“No proof?’’ Murphy demanded coldly. “Then what was he doing at the Warriors’ shack last night, with a gun in his hand no less? I heard that Kiko Ramos is someone you know, Hutchinson, but that doesn’t make a world of difference right now!”

Starsky held up a hand to try to cool the tempers in the room. He turned to Murphy and drilled his stare into the riled cop. “Proof is something that gets presented in the courtroom. Right now, we are gathering information, and whether Kiko was part of a gang is not based on fact.” Starsky said, trying to remain calm. “Are you sure you have never seen Kiko before last night?”

“No,” Murphy said. “But his face is hard to forget. Innocent on the outside, but a killer underneath.”

“Now, wait just a minute!” Hutch shouted.

Starsky put his palm on Hutch’s chest to calm him, imploring him with his eyes to cool it.

“Let’s not get out of hand, here, Murphy,” Starsky said. “We came to take your statement, not have you act as judge, jury, and executioner. So, please tell us what exactly happened without adding any hearsay opinion. You say you saw him drop the gun and then run. If he killed everyone else, why didn’t he point the gun at you, too? Doesn’t seem like some hardened criminal to leave behind a witness like that.”

Murphy took a long, angry breath as he pressed his hands against the table. “I don’t know, Starsky,” he seethed. “Maybe he got scared. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that when it comes to gangs and haphazard killings, there is no logic.”

“We’ll do our best to figure this out, Murphy,” Starsky assured him. “But we need everything you can remember. Even the smallest detail could make all the difference.”

Murphy looked at Starsky, then glared at Hutch. “I have told you everything. I know what I saw, and who I saw.”

Starsky offered a firm nod. “We’ll get to the truth, Murphy. One way or another. You can count on that.”

“Good to know,” Murphy said dryly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ton of paperwork to fill out because of that fucking kid.”

Starsky held Hutch back and let Murphy leave.

“Let’s go see Kiko,” Starsky said before Hutch could go after Murphy and make things worse.

He knew he would have to muster enough calm for both of them.

****

The Torino’s engine roared to life as Starsky turned the key and glanced at the passenger seat. Hutch appeared deep in thought, and Starsky knew that usually meant he was struggling to piece everything together.

It felt like an eternity, but after a few blocks, Hutch finally broke the silence.

“Is it just me, or did something seem very off with Murphy? He seemed very sure it was Kiko pulling the trigger, yet he even admitted it was dark and chaotic, and he had never seen Kiko before in his life. He’s not even willing to admit that maybe he made a mistake?”

Starsky wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. “I know, I felt it too. However, and this is an important point,” he said, looking at Hutch. “Murphy just watched his partner get killed; gunned down in the street. He’s still wearing the blood-stained uniform, for God’s sake. Maybe he needs some time to digest it all, you know? That kind of scene would make anyone a little on edge.”

Hutch’s complexion turned pale. He bit his lip as he drummed his fingers on the car door. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. “You’re right, I should have been more considerate. I’m sorry.”

Starsky mentally kicked himself for his careless words. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to say it like that. I was talking about Murphy and Carpenter, not about you and me.” He looked contritely at Hutch. “Forget what I said, okay?”

“No, Starsk, what you said was right on the money,” he said and placed a hand on Starsky’s arm. “I’m okay, you didn’t say anything wrong. You can’t be walking on eggshells around me, worried about bringing back memories when we’ve got a job to do,” Hutch smiled, like the sun through the window. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Starsk.”

The snarling ball of string in Starsky’s stomach began to untangle, just a little. “We’ll figure this out. Let’s go see Kiko,” Starsky said. “But, Hutch?”

“Yeah, buddy?” Hutch asked.

“When we get there, let me handle the questions, alright?”

Hutch raised an eyebrow. “Why you?”

Starsky let out a quiet sigh. “Two reasons. First, you didn’t exactly keep your cool back there with Murphy. That’s understandable, but you can’t let that happen again.”

Hutch peeled his eyes away and fixed them straight ahead, not disputing Starsky’s words.

Starsky’s gut clenched, hating to be in the position they were both in and, most of all, hating Hutch’s look of despair. He wanted to reach over, stroke his cheek, and take away the pain with all of his heart.

“Secondly,” Starsky explained, “I think it’ll be better if I remain a somewhat neutral party here.” He waited for a moment, swallowing, and said, “Kiko didn’t tell you everything when you saw him last night, did he?”

Hutch’s expression morphed into a furrowed mix of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The way you described it, it sounded like Kiko was just walking down the street and got picked up by the cops out of nowhere,” Starsky said. “Did he mention he was running from the scene?”

Hutch stiffened. “He didn’t say he was running, no. He didn’t say he wasn’t running, either. I didn’t confirm it.”

“And did Kiko tell you that his fingerprints might be on the gun?”

“No,” Hutch said. “Maybe Kiko has a good explanation for that.”

“Maybe, but that’s not my point, Hutch.” Starsky rebutted, softening a little, “You missed some important things last night. I’m not blaming you; it was a lot to process, and you weren’t even officially on the case. But, even now, you’re working through it emotionally.”

Starsky knew Hutch needed calming words now more than ever. “I need you to understand something,” Starsky added, “I don’t think Kiko’s capable of doing what they’re accusing him of, either. I’m on your side, and I’m on Kiko’s side. But if we let any detail slip through the cracks, if we leave anything unfinished or unexamined, then we’re not helping anyone. Not ourselves, not the victims, and most of all, not Kiko. So take a step back for me today. Let me take the lead.”

Hutch was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window, seeming to process the words. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I promised Dobey I’d let you keep me in check. You do the questioning, I’ll stay back.”

Starsky gave a small, appreciative nod. “Good,” he said. “At least we have a plan.”

Chapter 6

The interrogation room at the city jail was stark and cold, its walls painted a dull gray, while an overhead light buzzed faintly in the background. At the center of the room, a worn metal table sat, its surface marred by scratches from countless tense encounters. A police-issued tape recorder sat in the middle of the table.

Starsky entered ahead of Hutch, noting the reflection of the room’s occupants in the mirror that hung on the wall. There was Kiko Ramos, handcuffed and dressed in an orange jumpsuit. His wavy dark hair and boyish brown eyes gave him an innocent, almost vulnerable look. Next to Kiko sat his lawyer, Danny Walters, a middle-aged man in a modestly tailored suit, fidgeting with his tie, his expression steady with a hint of worry. An officer stood silently in the corner, keeping watch.

Kiko raised his head as the door opened, the clinking of his handcuffs filling the chilling quiet. “Hutch!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up with recognition. “And Starsky! Am I glad to see you!”

Hutch’s features were taut with a forced smile. He glanced at the bailiff in the corner. “Take the cuffs off him,” he ordered.

Starsky opened his mouth to speak, but Hutch quickly cut him off. “It’s okay, Starsk. I’m not overstepping, I promise.” He made eye contact with Starsky, then Walters, and glanced at Kiko. He whispered to Starsky, “He’ll open up to us more if he’s relaxed. And you know he won’t try anything. Trust me, please?”

Starsky hesitated but nodded, understanding the reasoning behind his request. He knew Hutch wouldn’t be able to sit there and look at Kiko being treated like a criminal, and Starsky needed Hutch’s head to be in the game. He approached the bailiff. “You heard my partner,” he said firmly.

The officer shook his head. “I can’t do that. It’s against protocol.”

“You can when an outranking officer gives the order,” Starsky insisted. “Besides, we all know the two-way mirror won’t let anyone get away with anything in here.”

Reluctantly, the bailiff unlocked Kiko’s cuffs, nodded at the detectives, and left the room.

Hutch pulled out a pad and pencil and sat in one of the empty chairs across from Kiko.

“Hello, Kiko,” Starsky began, sitting beside Hutch.“Hello, Walters,” he nodded at the lawyer, directing his attention back to the prisoner. “Sounds like you’ve found yourself in a bit of a mess, Kiko. I’m going to ask you some questions,” he inhaled, glancing at Hutch. “We’ll be recording this conversation, but Hutch will also be taking notes. I need you to be honest and give us as much detail as you can about what happened last night.”

Kiko nodded, glancing at his lawyer.

“Don’t worry,” said Danny Walters. “It’s my job to ensure all questions are fair and in compliance with the law. You have the right to refuse to answer any question, but I advise you to provide the truth of what you know. I’m here if you get stuck on anything.”

Danny reached over and hit the record button on the tape recorder.

Kiko looked at Starsky, swallowing hard. “I trust you, Starsky. What would you like to know?”

“Start at the beginning, Kiko,” Starsky urged. “Why were you at the Warriors’ hangout last night?”

Kiko took a deep breath as if trying to summon the memory. “I got a call yesterday from Jose Garcia. We were friends back in grade school. Used to hang out in the neighborhood, but I haven’t seen him in years.”

“So, this is the first time he’s contacted you in years?” Starsky asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Kiko answered .“He said he needed my help. Sounded desperate. He told me he wanted out of the gang, but didn’t trust anyone. Said he thought of me because he knew I had a connection with the cops – Hutch and all.” Kiko hesitated and looked at Hutch, who didn’t look up. “He said he wished he’d had a ‘Big Brother’ to steer him right, like how Hutch did for me.”

Starsky exchanged a quick look with Hutch before focusing back on Kiko. “And what did he want from you?”

“Jose was a good guy back then,” Kiko remarked. “He got mixed up with the Warriors, but I didn’t think he ever really wanted to be part of that life. He used to get good grades and play basketball with me on weekends. He lost his dad a couple of years ago, and I know his mother was hitting the bottle a lot. I thought maybe I could help him. I felt sorry for him.”

“What happened next?” Starsky asked, his body bent forward as he listened.

“He told me to meet him at the Warriors’ hangout at midnight. It’s near El Paso, and I had to work until closing, so I told him I’d walk over after. He said he wanted my help to connect with a cop he could trust. Someone who could protect him and help break him out of the gang.”

Kiko glanced at Hutch, but Hutch remained focused on his notes, as though writing every word was the most important task of his life.

“And when you got there?” Starsky asked, bringing the attention away from Hutch.

Kiko’s eyes darkened. “Jose said the house would be empty except for him. The other members of the Warriors were at some kind of meeting. He thought it was a perfect chance to get out for good. Except…”

Starsky pressed. “Except what?”

“Except that when I got there,” Kiko hesitated, “Jose pulled a gun on me.”

Starsky felt his heart jump. “A gun?”

Kiko looked at Starsky and said, “It was a double cross. He said he wasn’t trying to get out at all. He said he wanted me to come in. He said I was acting like some goodie-two-shoes. Told me I needed to stop hanging around with a cop all the time, and it was time I joined the Warriors.”

Kiko glanced at Hutch, and Hutch’s eyes snapped up, then back down to the notepad. Starsky knew he was suppressing every ounce of anger that was bubbling within him.

“Then what happened, Kiko?” Starsky asked.

“He shoved the gun in my hand,” Kiko said. “It happened so fast. He told me I needed to pass an initiation,” he swallowed. “He said I needed to take care of some members of the Cobras. He said they were on their way over and that a fight was about to happen.”

“Go on,” Starsky pressed.

“Like I said, he shoved the gun in my hand. I know I left that part out last night, Hutch, and I’m sorry. I was just scared.”

Hutch didn’t look up, but Starsky knew that hurt him deeply.

“He tried to force me,” Kiko said, looking to Starsky for acknowledgment. “He said if I didn’t go along with it, he would go after Molly. He said something about her growing into, what did he say, a real piece of…” Kiko trailed off, looking embarrassed. “I can’t finish the sentence, it’s too awful, I’m sorry, but I know beyond a doubt that he had every intention of hurting her.”

Starsky leaned in, his tone easing. “It’s okay, Kiko. We get it. What happened after that?”

Kiko swallowed, visibly shaken. “There was no way I was going along with it, but I was scared for Molly, and I needed to buy some time. So, I held the gun and pointed it at Jose. He laughed at me and said that if anything happened to him, the rest of the Warriors would come after me and would hurt Molly so bad she would wish she had never joined my family. I was scared, so I started to lower the gun, but before I could drop it, Jose shoved me out the front door. I turned around to leave, thought Jose was behind me, but he wasn’t. I don’t know what happened to him.”

“Then what?” Starsky prompted.

“Then three guys from the Cobras showed up. They were wearing red bandanas, so I knew who they were. I panicked, tossed the gun in the bushes, and ran around the back. Everything happened so fast. I heard sirens, and then gunshots, but I kept running. I don’t know what happened back there. I swear, I don’t know.”

“Was there anyone else at the house?” Starsky asked.

“No one that I saw,” Kiko replied quickly. “I swear.”

“And where is Jose now?”

“I have no idea,” Kiko said, shaking his head.

Hutch spoke up for the first time. “None of this makes sense, Kiko. Why would Jose call you, then threaten you, only to run out on you?”

“I don’t know,” Kiko muttered. “Maybe he got scared when he saw the Cobras.”

Hutch turned to Starsky. “I think we need to pay Jose Garcia a visit.”

Starsky nodded. “Agree. But first, Kiko, I need to ask you something.”

Starsky pulled out the file he’d been carrying, opened it, and removed a photograph. It was a family portrait of a man, his wife, and two young children – a happy, smiling scene, except for the fact that the man was dead.

He turned the photo toward Kiko.

“Do you recognize the man in this photo?” Starsky asked. “Remember, Kiko, you’re being recorded.”

Kiko stared at the photograph, glancing up at Hutch before speaking. “That man is a cop.”

Hutch straightened up at full attention, putting his pencil down, eyebrows lifted in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but Starsky jumped in.

“How would you possibly know this man was a cop, Kiko?” Starsky asked.

Kiko shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “I know because I’ve seen him at the station when I’ve visited you there, Hutch.”

Hutch’s body tensed at the admission, his attention drawn back to his notepad.

“I see. Do you make a habit of remembering every cop at the station?” Starsky asked.

“No,” Kiko answered softly. “But I saw him at the restaurant, too. Two nights ago. He was with another man with red hair. Why are you asking? Who exactly is this cop in the picture?”

Starsky’s tone became grave as he replied, “His name was John Carpenter.”

Kiko looked up. “Was?”

“This is the cop who was killed last night,” Starsky said flatly.

Kiko’s eyes widened. “What?”

Starsky pulled out another picture and turned it toward Kiko. It was of a cop in uniform, his red hair peeking from beneath his cap. “And this is Carpenter’s partner, Samuel Murphy. Are you saying you’ve seen these cops at El Paso’s?”

“Yes, like I said, I saw them two nights ago, behind the restaurant. I was taking the garbage out, and I saw them both standing outside, arguing. I don’t know what it was about, but I heard the red-haired one say something like ‘What do you mean you won’t do it?’ or something like that. They stopped talking when I came out. The red-haired guy looked straight at me. I went back inside, and a few minutes later, my boss told me I had forgotten a bag of garbage, so I had to go out again. But this time, only the red-haired man was there, talking to someone else. The man in this photo must’ve left.” Kiko looked up and said, “When I opened the door, the red-haired guy glared at me, like he was mad I was interrupting them. He told me to hurry up and get lost. He was pretty rude.”

Starsky glanced at Hutch, then back to Kiko. “What exactly did the red-haired cop say? Do you remember?”

“It was weird – like he was scared I saw him or something. He yelled, ‘Get the hell out of here, you stupid Mexican.'”

Hutch’s focus sharpened, and Starsky knew his partner couldn’t stay silent anymore. “Who was the third man?” Hutch asked sharply.

“I don’t know his name, but some people at work said he was a drug dealer, “Kiko said. “Really bad news.”

“What did ‘bad news’ look like?” Hutch asked, writing it down.

“He had slick black hair, a black mustache, and wore thick gold chains. I remember the sound of them clinking when he moved. He wore a black leather jacket and blue jeans. I remember thinking the jacket looked pretty expensive.”

Hutch stopped the tape recorder and looked at Danny Walters, then at Starsky. “That sounds like Angelo Mendoza. The cops have been trying to get him on charges of trafficking for months, but every time it goes to court, it gets thrown out on some technicality.”

“The guy must have a golden horseshoe around his neck,” Walters said.

Starsky nodded and flipped the tape recorder back on.

“Did you see either of these cops last night?” Starsky prodded.

“No,” Kiko said, shaking his head. “I told you, I took off.”

“Murphy says he saw you kill his partner, Kiko,” Starsky pressed.

“That’s impossible!” Kiko declared, “You have to believe me. I told you, I left.”

Danny Walter spoke up, “Officer Murphy’s statement is hearsay, the word of one person against another.”

Starsky nodded at Walters and said, “Yes, but Kiko’s fingerprints are on the murder weapon.”

“That’s been explained. The gun was shoved into his hands by Jose Garcia,” Walters noted.

“We will be bringing Jose Garcia in for questioning, you can count on that,” Starsky replied to the lawyer before returning to Kiko. “But Kiko, I need you to understand something. You’re charged with killing those three kids, as well as Officer Carpenter, and another cop says he saw you do it. How do you explain that?”

Kiko slammed his fist on the table. “I can’t explain it, Starsky.” His desperate gaze turned to Hutch. “I didn’t do this! That cop must’ve seen someone else. Hutch, you believe me, don’t you?”

Hutch nodded slowly, his expression serious. “You know I do, Kiko. And so does Starsky. But we need time to figure this out. We’ll see what the judge says about bail tomorrow, okay?”

Kiko swallowed hard. “Okay, but can you do me one favor?” He looked at Starsky, then Hutch. “Check on Molly for me? After what Jose said, I’m scared for her.”

Starsky nodded, feeling like it was the least they could do. “We’ll make sure your mother and Molly are safe.”

They stood to leave. Hutch knocked on the padded door and walked out without a word, Starsky getting ready to follow.

“Starsky?” Kiko said, calling him back.

Starsky turned to look at the young man whose every feature was dripping with fear.

“Is Hutch mad at me?” Kiko asked. “He hardly said a word to me while he was here.”

Starsky opened his mouth to reply, interrupted when the bailiff entered the room and placed the cuffs back onto Kiko’s wrists.

“He’s mad, Kiko, but not at you,” Starsky said.

“Tell him I’m sorry,” Kiko said mournfully.

Kiko looked back at Starsky as the bailiff ushered him out. Starsky could only offer a slight nod of acknowledgment, watching silently as Kiko was led like a criminal back to his jail cell.

Chapter 7

Starsky was starting to feel like he lived either at the precinct or in the Torino. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Hutch. “I just need to make a pit stop.”

“Too much coffee this morning?” Hutch said with a faint smile. “Just be quick, okay? We need to bring in Jose Garcia. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Starsky pushed the door to the men’s room and entered a stall, his thoughts turning to the past couple of days. It seemed like it had been weeks since Kiko was arrested, but in reality, only two nights had passed.

Starsky walked up to the sink and splashed himself with cold water, just as the door opened and Samuel Murphy walked in. He was wearing a fresh uniform, but he looked ragged and in need of a shave, his red hair disheveled and uncombed.

Murphy stopped short when he saw Starsky. He looked even more edgy than he had when they interviewed him the day before.

“So, you two aren’t attached at the hip after all,” he said mockingly. “I always thought you and your partner did everything together. Good to know you can take a piss by yourself.”

Starsky looked at Murphy, taken aback. Unfounded aggression seemed to be a recurring theme with him.

“Hutch is my partner,” Starsky answered. “It’s kind of hard not to be together a lot,” he peered at Murphy, “But like you said, you know about partnerships, right?”

“Right,” Murphy answered. “Partners are supposed to be there for each other. Too bad it didn’t turn out that way for me and Carpenter.”

Murphy turned and entered a stall, cutting off any further discussion.

Starsky scratched his head. Murphy’s words rang in his ears as he headed downstairs, an uneasiness settling in the back of his mind.

*****

They pulled up to Jose Garcia’s house in silence. Starsky glanced at Hutch, who appeared just as weary, like he had exhausted all his energy trying to hide his emotions behind his careful composure.

He knocked on the door of Jose Garcia’s house, Hutch standing behind him. “Maybe no one is home,” Starsky shrugged.

Just then, the door crept open, and a woman who looked to be in her fifties opened the door. Her eyes were red, as though she had been crying, a crumpled tissue in her hand, and the smell of booze on her breath.

“We’re with the police,” Starsky said, flashing his badge. “Is this the residence of Jose Garcia? We need to speak with him.”

The woman looked at him in shock. “You’re here to see my Jose? My boy?” she cried. “Don’t you know you’re too late?”

Starsky glanced at Hutch, then turned his attention back to the woman. “Are you Jose’s mother?”

“Yes, I’m Delores Garcia,” she said as she opened the door to let the detectives step inside. “Is this about the accident?”

“What accident?” Hutch asked.

“My boy was killed in a car accident last night,” she said, holding a tissue to her eyes. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“What?” Hutch exclaimed. “Would you mind telling us what happened?”

“He always drives too fast. I told him so many times to slow down. Last night, he said he was going to work; he makes deliveries for some people downtown. The next thing I know, I heard his tires squealing and I ran out to yell at him to slow down, but he kept going faster and faster until he hit that telephone pole down there.” She pointed to the end of the street, at the bottom of the hill. “And now my boy is dead!”

“Again, I’m very sorry for your loss, ” Starsky said. “Ma’am,” he looked at her sympathetically, “Would you happen to know where Jose worked, where he made deliveries?”

“He worked for someone who looked like bad news to me,” she said, dabbing the corner of her nose with a tissue. “His boss picked him up once; he wore thick gold chains, had slick black hair, and a mustache.” She began to cry, her attention shifting. “I told Jose to be careful on the roads, but Jose wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Was his boss’s name Angelo Mendoza?” Hutch asked.

“Maybe,” Mrs. Garcia said. “Why does it matter?”

“Because Angelo Mendoza is a drug dealer,” Hutch answered. “Just because law enforcement hasn’t been able to get charges to stick doesn’t mean he’s an innocent man. Were you aware that your son worked for a suspected drug dealer?”

“What? No, not my Jose,” she cried.

“We also think Jose might have been involved in the shooting of a police officer and three teenage boys two nights ago,” Hutch shared.

“That’s impossible!” Mrs. Garcia shouted. “Jose was home two nights ago!”

“He was?” Starsky asked, surprised. “And he didn’t leave the house all night?”

“I remember it clearly. He went to bed early, around ten o’clock. He said he had an early morning and was tired. I went to bed shortly after him,” she said defensively. “He was a good boy.”

Mrs. Garcia opened the door and said with a tinge of irritation, “If there is nothing else, would you please leave my home?”

Hutch tucked his notepad into his jacket pocket, nodding in understanding. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Garcia. Again, we’re truly sorry for your loss.”

As Starsky stepped out behind Hutch, he could hear the door slam shut with a resounding thud.

*****

Hutch slammed his fist on his knee as he got into the Torino. “Jose Garcia – the only person who could have corroborated Kiko’s story -is dead less than forty-eight hours later. What are we supposed to make of that, Starsk?”

“I don’t know,” Starsky answered. “People die in car crashes every day. His mother says he was always driving too fast. That’s all we have to go on right now.”

“It’s a little too convenient, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but that’s not how the district attorney will see it,” Starsky said, trying to muster a sense of calm. “They’ll claim Kiko was part of the Warriors. Even if they interview the rest of the gang, there’s a good chance they won’t talk or tell the truth, not if they think any of this will blow back on them. Then, the prosecution will argue that Kiko was ambushed by the Cobras, panicked, and shot them all—then killed Carpenter trying to escape.”

“That’s crap!” Hutch shouted, his frustration evident.

Starsky stayed composed. “I know, but what do we have to dispute it? Kiko’s word against a cop and a dead kid,’ he sighed. “They’ll paint Kiko as a troubled teenager, Hutch, and you know it. Raised by a single mother, doing her best, but like a lot of kids in the neighborhood, they’ll say he got mixed up with the wrong people. They’ll bring up his shoplifting record, try to make it sound like he’s a habitual criminal.”

“Shoplifting?” Hutch exclaimed in disbelief. “Kiko hasn’t shoplifted since I’ve known him! The one time he did, he was acting out, only ten years old, for God’s sake. His mother put him in the Big Brother program after that. He turned things around. He straightened up.”

“I know, Hutch, and a lot of that is thanks to you. Believe me, I’m not saying these things, but I’m telling you what the prosecution will argue. They’ll say a young Latino with a criminal record gets caught up in a street war, and it all goes south. They’ve got an eyewitness – another cop, no less – Kiko’s fingerprints on the weapon, and him caught running from the scene. The only person who can back up Kiko’s story is dead. If this were anyone but Kiko, what would you say?”

Hutch’s jaw tightened. “You’re not implying you think Kiko’s guilty, are you?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, Hutch,” Starsky replied. “What I’m trying to do is get you to see the facts as they’re being laid out right now. All of them are stacked against Kiko. That’s probably why Judge Whitfield denied bail this morning.”

“I can’t believe the judge did that,” Hutch remarked. “He made his decision so quickly. Like Dobey said, when a cop is killed, things move at incredible speed.”

“Maybe,” Starsky said. “Judge Whitfield is known for his tough stance on gang violence, especially in the Latino community. The fact that a cop was killed adds extra pressure, and you know what that means.”

Hutch shuddered. “If the prosecution goes for the death penalty, Starsk, I’ll lose my mind.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Starsky said. “One step at a time. As I said, all the facts are stacked against Kiko, and most cops would consider this case open and shut. If we want to find the truth, we need something more—something we’ve missed.”

Hutch nodded. “I think we need to approach this from another angle.”

“Like what?” Starsky asked.

“Like,” Hutch continued, “If we agree that Kiko is innocent, then we have to assume he’s being set up. I think Jose set him up, but when Kiko ran out, Jose had no choice but to come back and kill those kids and Officer Carpenter. Murphy says he’s sure it was Kiko, but it was dark out, so maybe he mistook Jose for him. But something else is bothering me.”

“What?”

“Murphy says he never saw Kiko before the night of the shooting, and yet, Kiko was pretty clear that Murphy saw him behind the restaurant only two days before, twice on the same night. Isn’t it strange that Murphy didn’t remember that? Especially given how Kiko remembers Murphy yelling at him? And then, Jose is killed. It’s a case of either bad memory on Murphy’s part, bad eyesight, or…”

“Or someone wanted Murphy to think it was Kiko. Jose couldn’t have done that on his own. And where does ‘bad news’ Mendoza fit into all of this? Why would Murphy have been meeting with that drug dealer two nights before the shooting?”

“I don’t know,” Hutch said. “You and I have met with dozens of criminals and snitches and who knows what else on the streets, in back alleys, in bars and restaurants for years. The logical conclusion is that Murphy was shaking Mendoza down, letting Mendoza know the cops were watching him.”

“That would be the logical conclusion,” Starsky said. “Although, like Murphy said himself, when it comes to gang wars and haphazard shootings, logic does not apply.”

Hutch tugged at his nose and took a deep breath. “Maybe we should take a break and check on Molly. We promised Kiko.”

*****

Starsky knocked softly on Mrs. Ramos’s front door. Hutch stood beside him, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, grimacing as he stared down at his shoes. “This is going to be hard,” Hutch muttered, as though the words were trying to break free but didn’t quite want to.

The door creaked open, revealing Rosa Ramos standing in the doorway. Her brown eyes were swollen and wet from crying, and her hair was loosely pulled back into a ponytail, the strands framing her face haphazardly. A faded scarf was wrapped around her head, but it couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes or the deep lines on her forehead, or how worn down with grief she appeared.

“Hutch,” she said softly as she stepped aside to let them in, “and Starsky, please come in. I’m afraid the house is a mess. I’m sorry.”

“Rosa,” Hutch whispered, as though speaking any louder might cause the whole world to collapse. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

Rosa held up a hand, her trembling fingers stopping him mid-sentence. She threw herself into Hutch’s arms, her body shaking with sobs. “Please, help him,” she pleaded, her cries muffled against his shoulder. “He didn’t commit this crime. Kiko’s never been part of a gang. He graduated from high school with good grades. He was working at the restaurant to save up for college. He wants to do something with his life. Please, help him.”

Before Hutch could respond, Molly burst into the room, flushed with anger and tears. “How could you let this happen?” she screamed. “You’re both supposed to be our friends! What kind of cops are you, anyway?”

“Hey, kiddo,” Starsky said, trying to calm the storm in the room. “I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be…”

Molly didn’t let him finish. She lunged forward, fists pounding against Hutch’s chest in anguish. “How could you let this happen?” she sobbed, her words coming out between ragged breaths.

Hutch gently grasped her wrists as she fought to push him away. Slowly, her fists relaxed, and he pulled her into his arms, letting her cry against his chest.

“It’s okay, Molly,” Hutch whispered soothingly. “I know. I know.”

Rosa looked from Starsky to Hutch, her hand hovering over her mouth, and then she stepped toward them. “Why don’t we all sit down, please?”

Molly pulled away from Hutch, her breath still hitching as she sank onto the sofa, followed by the others. Starsky took the lead, hoping to steady the room.

“Mrs. Ramos, Molly,” Starsky began, “Believe me, Hutch and I don’t think Kiko did this. We’re doing everything we can to find the real killer.”

“Kiko wanted us to check on you both,” Hutch said, strain still evident in his body. “He’s especially worried about you, Molly. He cares about you.”

Molly’s eyes bolted up and she said, “He’s worried about me? Why?”

Starsky nodded at her, hesitating before asking, “Did Kiko ever mention someone named Jose Garcia?”

“Jose?” Rosa asked, her brow furrowing as memories surfaced. “He used to live in the neighborhood, but Kiko hasn’t mentioned him in a few years. I heard his father died after a night of drinking and drove off the road. His mother, she drank a lot too, I heard.”

Starsky exchanged a glance with Hutch.

“Sounds like father, like son,” Hutch muttered bitterly. “You see, Jose was killed in a car accident. He was the only one who could’ve backed up Kiko’s story. We need to know if you remember anything else about him.”

Molly’s face hardened, her thoughts tumbling out. “He was a member of the Warriors,” she said, as though saying it aloud made the words easier to bear. “A real creep. He used to make lewd comments to me when I was walking down the street. One time, he cornered me…said I was ‘blossoming into a real catch.’” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself, looking at Rosa, “I never told you or Kiko about it. I didn’t want to cause trouble. It was my word against his.”

Rosa grimaced with pain at Molly’s words, but she nodded in understanding.

“What you’re saying is very helpful,” Starsky said gently. “It matches Kiko’s story. It shows what Jose was capable of – and that he threatened you. Kiko said the same thing happened the night of the shooting.”

Molly straightened, her demeanor radiating her resolve. “If I need to testify, I will. It’s the truth. Jose was a creep.”

Starsky stood up, then motioned for Hutch to follow him. “We’ll do everything we can,” he said to the two women.

Hutch reached out, his hand gently cupping Molly’s cheek. “The next time you see Kiko, tell him we’re out here, doing everything we can,” he said with conviction.

They stepped out of the house, and Starsky could feel their piercing stares of fear and hope burning through his back as he shut the door with a soft click.

Chapter 8

The next few weeks flew by as the detectives chased down every lead. It turned out that no one had seen Jose Garcia near the Warriors’ hangout that night – or at least, no one was willing to admit it. They rousted members of both the Cobras and the Warriors, but both sides kept silent, respecting some unwritten code of battle that didn’t dare expose any secrets or truths.

Meanwhile, the trial date was set, and the case was gaining media attention. Kiko was portrayed as troubled in his youth – the child of an immigrant mother and an absentee father – who brutally murdered three innocent teenagers and a police officer. The public, fed up with the rising violence in suburban neighborhoods, blamed easy targets like immigration and racial tensions. They were demanding answers.

“You must be exhausted,” Starsky said as they entered Hutch’s apartment, both exhausted from the day. “The last few weeks have been nonstop.”

“I am,” Hutch responded quietly, “but probably no more than you.” He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a dining chair before heading to the refrigerator. “Beer?” he asked, pulling out two bottles.

“Sure,” Starsky answered, flopping onto Hutch’s sofa. “I know this has been tough, Hutch. You don’t have to hold it in around me. You know that.”

Hutch swallowed hard as he lowered himself into the seat beside Starsky. “I know,” he said. “Kiko’s not my child, but I almost feel like he is. It’s not just that I’ll love him no matter what – good or bad- it’s that I know in my heart he didn’t do this. Seeing him in handcuffs, knowing he’s locked up…,” Hutch’s words trailed off.

Starsky reached over, brushing his hand gently across Hutch’s cheek. “I get it,” he murmured. “I’m sorry this is happening.”

Starsky stood up and moved toward the window overlooking the greenhouse. He propped a hand against it and hung his head, wishing he could take it all away, shielding Hutch from the hurt he knew would only grow in the days ahead.

“Hey, Starsk,” Hutch said, approaching Starsky from behind, his hand soft on Starsky’s shoulder. “It feels like you’re been checking in on me lately. I haven’t been doing the same. Are you okay?”

Starsky turned, aware that his voice was threatening to betray him. “Of course I’m okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Oh my God, did the doctor say something to you recently?” Hutch failed to mask his concern. “I’ve been so wrapped up in Kiko’s case that I haven’t even asked how your check-ups have been.”

“Hutch, stop,” Starsky scolded gently. “We have a deal, remember? If you need to know about my recovery, I won’t keep it from you. I promise I’m fine. My check-ups have all been clear.”

Hutch sighed, his hands moving from Starsky’s shoulders to his elbows. “Thank God,” he said. “But there’s something on your mind, I can tell.” He drew a breath, licking his lips. “Is it Sharon? That’s her name, right? The one who worked in advertising? From New York, I think. Is everything okay in that department?”

Starsky’s strength started to crumble at the concern in Hutch’s eyes. It wasn’t Hutch’s fault – really, it was because they’d never talked about the one thing that truly mattered.

“No, Hutch, it’s not that. It was Sheryl, not Sharon, and she moved back to New York a month ago. It wasn’t serious between us.”

Hutch closed his eyes, seemingly dismayed. “What kind of friend am I? I didn’t even know that.”

“I repeat, it wasn’t serious,” Starsky said. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Hutch. You’re a good friend. The best there is. But you can’t juggle everything. Believe me, Sheryl’s leaving is not even close to what’s been on my mind.”

Hutch’s expression appeared confused. “Then what?” he asked.

Starsky raised his hands, touching Hutch’s cheek. “Don’t you think it’s time we talked about that night?”

Hutch looked genuinely confused. “What night?”

“The night the sprinklers went off, dummy,” Starsky chuckled. “The night we kissed.”

The color drained from Hutch’s cheeks as he pulled away from Starsky’s hand. “That was a long time ago. I thought you’d forgotten about it,” he stammered.

“Forgotten about it? Far from it,” Starsky replied. “And I know you haven’t either. Don’t deny it. Just because other important things are going on, don’t you think we should address the most important thing?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” Hutch admitted, looking down. “I just didn’t know what to do about it. I still don’t, if I’m honest.”

Starsky pulled away, trying to quell his growing frustration. “You think I know what to do?” he said. “I don’t have a rulebook here either. But one thing I know for sure is that I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”

“Please don’t be angry with me for that day,” Hutch pleaded. “For what I did. I’d understand if you wanted to leave.”

“Leave?” Starsky asked, incredulous. “Who said anything about leaving…?”

Just then, the phone rang, cutting off Starsky’s next words. Hutch grabbed the receiver, turning toward the sofa.

“Hutchinson,” he said. “Danny? What’s going on?”

Hutch motioned for Starsky to come over. Starsky leaned in to listen.

“I tried putting a few members of the Warriors on the witness list for the trial,” Danny said, “to get them on the stand and to admit Kiko wasn’t part of the gang, but Judge Whitfield denied it. He said gang members’ testimony isn’t credible, so he struck them from the list.”

“What?” Hutch exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous. Can’t you file a motion to fight that?”

“I’m trying, Hutch. I won’t give up, but the judge doesn’t seem to be budging. Sorry.”

“Okay, thanks, Danny. Let me know if anything changes.” Hutch hung up the phone, staring at it.

“I’m sorry,” Starsky said. “Everywhere we turn, it’s another roadblock.”

Hutch’s face showed the weight of defeat. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Starsk. I truly am.”

Starsky swallowed hard, gazing into Hutch’s pleading eyes like there was a wall between them that needed to come down. All of the emotion Hutch was holding inside was palpable, and Starsky knew if he stayed another moment, he’d never let it go. And then, Hutch would probably hate him for it. It was as if Hutch was afraid it would all shatter if they allowed themselves to feel.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” Starsky said.

Hutch nodded, avoiding Starsky’s gaze.

Starsky walked toward the door, his hand lingering on the handle, hoping for some sign from Hutch – a word, a look – that would ask him to stay.

But Hutch said nothing.

Starsky left, leaning against the other side of the doorway for a long moment, his fingers slipping from the handle. His mind was a blur of thoughts: of what he’d just said, of what he wanted, and the gnawing ache left by Hutch’s words.

That kiss. That damned kiss from that night. He could still feel it like it was yesterday. The way Hutch looked at him and every time since. Whenever Hutch would smile or their hands would brush, Starsky felt a deep yearning for something more.

And now, knowing there was a chance Hutch might never take that leap, it felt like a thousand missed chances. Starsky wanted something lasting with him, and he wanted Hutch to admit he wanted that too because, in his heart, he knew Hutch did.

It was just that so many other things always got in the damn way.

Chapter 9

The next few days passed without any further mention of the kiss. Starsky felt like he was reliving the same bad dream over and over again. He would lie awake at night, time stretching out like an endless highway with no exit ramps or curves in the road, or even any speed bumps to slow him down. He felt like he was on a perpetual path of existence that would stretch for years if he let it, allowing him to move, to breathe, to remain alive, but finding himself no closer to where he wanted to go.

They left the precinct after another morning of futile leads. Hutch slid into the passenger seat of the Torino, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“Did you see Murphy just now?” Hutch said, with apparent disbelief. “Standing outside the station smoking, jittery as all hell when we passed by. It was like he was ready to jump off a bridge or something. I know it’s hard, but he looks more on edge today than he did that day after the shooting.”

“I noticed that too,” Starsky said. “He must still be having a hard time with losing his partner. He was only partnered with Carpenter for a year, but still, people handle things in their own way.”

“True,” Hutch said. “But did you know that Murphy has gone through about a dozen partners in his fifteen years on the force? Rumor has it that he’s difficult to work with on the streets.”

Starsky nodded, feeling a familiar sense of gratitude every time the topic of good partners came up. He never took his good fortune for granted. The look on Hutch’s face told Starsky he was feeling that too.

“Starsk,” Hutch said quietly, “I’m sorry about the other night. I know you were trying to have a conversation, and once again, you must think I’m a terrible friend for blowing you off.” Hutch looked at Starsky with a pained expression. “I never meant for that to happen, and I certainly never meant to put you in this position in the first place.”

“Put me in what position?” Starsky said, unsure of the direction Hutch was headed. “I’m the one who brought it up, remember? You’re not putting me in a position.”

The car radio interrupted Starsky’s next words.

“Zebra three, come in please.”

Hutch picked up the mic. “This is Zebra three, go ahead, Mildred.”

“See the man named Huggy at the Pits.”

“On our way,” Hutch said, hanging up. “I wonder what Huggy wants.”

Starsky caught the look in Hutch’s eyes, the look that said, ‘Can we drop this, please?’

So Starsky did. Pushing Hutch when he didn’t want to be pushed usually meant one of them saying the wrong thing and regretting it later.

“Let’s go see Huggy,” Starsky agreed. “I need to eat anyway.”

*****

“What do you have for us, Hug?” Starsky asked as he pulled up a barstool.

“You’ve been asking about Angelo Mendoza,” Huggy said, setting two plates of food on the bar. “Slick black hair, gold chains hanging around his neck, mean as hell, with a strong tendency to get ugly when things don’t go his way. Not a nice dude. Runs drugs down on the south end of the city.”

Starsky and Hutch exchanged a quick, knowing glance.

“Does he often hang out at the El Paso restaurant?” Hutch asked, picking up his burger.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Huggy shrugged. “I hear the food is good.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow. “It’s Starsky’s favorite. I prefer Japanese,” he said dryly.

Hey, what’s the matter with my fine establishment? I’ve been told I serve a mean wonton soup,” Huggy said. “I’m sure I could rustle up some sushi if you wanted it.”

“No offense, Huggy, but we’ve got a little more on our minds than sushi right now,” Hutch said, looking down at his burger. “Kiko will be facing trial soon.”

“I heard,” Huggy said in disbelief. “Everybody’s heard. But I know that kid wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he said, looking at Hutch with sympathy. “Unfortunately, the public is unwilling to take the time and understand that. The fact that Judge Whitfield has been assigned to the case won’t make things any easier for Kiko.”

“What do you mean?” Starsky asked.

“You read the news, don’t you? Judge Whitfield is a newly elected member of the Superior Court of California. He ran his election on his conservative values and his hard stance on both immigration and crime. Whatever facts are presented in Kiko’s defense had better be rock solid.”

Starsky nodded and said, “We’re doing our best.”

Huggy leaned in, whispering like he had a secret. “Too bad the fact that Whitfield’s twenty-year-old son, who I’ve been told had a regular business relationship with a certain Angelo Mendoza, and who has been in rehab three times in two years. Too bad that didn’t make the news. The judge’s moral high ground would have been severely compromised if the public knew about that family secret during the election.”

Hutch looked up from his burger with an exasperated look. “I get it, Huggy. Elections are only fair when purchased by the rich,” he said sarcastically. “But, can we get back to Mendoza?” Hutch leaned forward and said, “Kiko says he saw Officer Murphy talking to Mendoza at the back of the restaurant. You think Murphy was shaking him down?”

“Did you mean Officer Samuel Murphy?” Huggy asked. “Red hair, partnered with Carpenter, right? The cop who got killed?”

Huggy grabbed a dish towel and tossed it over his shoulder. “All I know is that Murphy’s got a reputation on the street,” Huggy added.

“Like what?” Starsky asked, his bar stool scraping against the floor as he leaned in to listen.

Huggy’s lips curled into a sneer. “Like, he’s the kind of cop that can’t be trusted. Been known to be on the take.”

“Say that again,” Hutch said, moving closer. “Are you saying that Murphy’s on the take with the likes of Mendoza? Getting a piece of the action, turning a blind eye to that drug dealer, helping to pour more drugs on the streets that the rest of the cops in this city can keep up with?” Hutch looked at Starsky. “Maybe that explains why Murphy saw Mendoza that night? And it explains why he is so on edge; he’s starting to feel the heat.”

Huggy leaned on his elbows and said, “I’m simply repeating what others have been saying, especially since Carpenter was killed. But you know I deal in the kind of information that’s reliable, but not necessarily testifiable, if you get my drift.”

“We get what you’re throwing down, Hug,” Starsky said. “Nobody’s going to stand up in court and accuse a cop of making deals with a drug lord, not without solid proof.”

“People would have to see that kind of thing with their own eyes to believe it,” Huggy said.

“This entire thing is starting to stink worse than a dumpster on a hot day,” Hutch said, slamming his fist on the counter.

‘Easy,” Starsky said, calming him. He turned to Huggy. “Do you know anything about a kid named Jose Garcia?”

“Heard of him. He worked for Mendoza. He was killed in a car accident,” Huggy said.

“We know that much, Hug,” Starsky said. “Anything else?”

“I also know,” Huggy leaned in closer as Starsky and Hutch did the same, “That the accident is very suspicious. His car was towed to the wreckers right after, and it’s a pancake now, so there’s no way to tell exactly what caused it to hit a telephone pole.”

“We heard that too, the car was sent to the wreckers the next day,” Starsky said. “But nobody’s giving answers about why.”

“If you ask me,” Huggy said, “Things don’t usually move that fast just because a Hispanic kid gets killed. That kind of speed is reserved for when someone much more important dies.”

“Like a cop?” Hutch asked.

“Sure, a cop,” Huggy said. “Or the Mayor, or the Governor. All sorts of people get a hell of a lot more attention than a Latino kid who dies in a car crash.”

“Are you trying to tell us something?” Starsky asked.

“Nope, I’m just speaking from years of experience. When things move fast, there’s usually a reason. Watch your backs on this one. Hutch is right, the air is starting to stink, and it gets more pungent the higher up you go.”

*****

They returned to the car, Hutch breathing heavily, his anger evident in every ragged breath. “Let’s head back to the station,” Starsky said. “We can call Danny and see if he has any news.”

Hutch slumped into his seat. “If Huggy’s right,” he muttered, “and Murphy’s in bed with Mendoza, this could mean Murphy had a lot more than just bad eyesight that night.”

“You think Murphy was in on the setup?” Starsky asked. “You think he saw Jose pull the trigger and is pinning it on Kiko? Why?”

“To protect Mendoza,” Hutch replied. “If one of Mendoza’s guys got caught, it would bring heat on his operation, and that would hurt Murphy’s little slice of the pie.”

“And Kiko was lured by Jose to get him out of the way because he saw Murphy and Mendoza together that night, and they got nervous?” Starsky asked. “And then, Mendoza tampers with Jose’s car the next day?”

“It fits,” Hutch said. “Now, how do we prove it?”

Starsky pulled into the station’s parking lot and spotted Samuel Murphy outside, smoking. “How about we ask the guy who might have the answers?” Starsky suggested, pointing at Murphy.

Hutch flashed a rigid smile. “Good idea, but it’s my party.”

Without another word, Hutch slammed the car door and strode toward Murphy, his long legs eating up the pavement in three quick steps. Starsky was right behind him, arriving just as Hutch shouted, “Murphy! I need to talk to you!”

Murphy took a slow drag from his cigarette, unfazed by the intrusion. “What do you want, Hutchinson? Still crying over that kid?”

In a flash, Hutch grabbed Murphy’s collar and lifted him off the ground. “What did you just say?” Hutch spewed at him.

Starsky stood back, watching the scene unfold.

You heard me,” Murphy said, his voice dripping with contempt. “I heard that kid’s lies, saying he saw me talking to Mendoza outside the El Paso restaurant. That kid will say anything to stay out of jail.”

“Oh, really?” Hutch shot back, tightening his grip on Murphy’s collar. “Are you denying you know Mendoza? Maybe you let him grease the wheels while you look the other way?”

Murphy recoiled, flushed with rage. “You’ve got no proof, Hutchinson. Now get your hands off me unless you want to be charged with assault of an officer.”

Hutch slowly released Murphy’s collar as he backed away. “We’re watching you, Murphy.”

Murphy straightened up with a cold, defiant look. “Keep your partner in line, Starsky, or else heads will roll.”

Starsky smiled, casually stepping forward and adjusting the lapels of Murphy’s jacket. “Oh, there will be heads to roll, alright. Just not the ones you’re thinking of.”

Chapter 10

Another week passed, and Starsky felt Hutch’s frustration mounting.

Samuel Murphy was back out on patrol, working the streets with a new partner in tow, acting like nothing had happened.

“It makes me sick, Starsk,” Hutch said for the hundredth time. “Murphy is a crooked cop, and he’s lying about Kiko.”

“I know,” Starsky said. “Something will give. We just have to keep going.”

Yet, the days turned to weeks, and Starsky felt no closer to answers than when they started.

There were other cases to attend to, other criminals and murderers who dared interrupt the time they needed to work on Kiko’s case. Starsky understood his captain’s predicament. There was only so much time Dobey could allow the detectives to dedicate to a case that was already going to trial.

It all left Starsky with a perpetual headache and a gnawing ache in his entire body. Yet, he knew, Hutch was faring even worse, his anxiety rising with each passing day.

****

It was Friday night, and Starsky didn’t want the weekend to go by without checking on his partner. He climbed the stairs to Hutch’s apartment, pausing halfway up. Coming down towards him was Delilah, her long blond hair cascading over her shoulders, dressed in a blouse and skirt, a handbag casually slung over her shoulder. When she saw him, she stopped in her tracks.

“Delilah,” Starsky said, offering a tentative smile. “Nice to see you.” The words felt hollow as he noted the redness in her eyes, as if she’d been crying. Immediately, he regretted speaking.

“It’s okay, Starsky. You don’t have to pretend you didn’t know Hutch was going to end it.” She sighed, hanging onto the handrail, her shoulders slumping slightly. “You two tell each other everything, don’t you?”

Starsky shook his head, unsure of what to say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hutch makes his own decisions – especially in matters like this.”

She inhaled deeply, gathering herself before speaking again. “Is he seeing someone else?” she asked.

“I can’t answer that I’m sorry,” Starsky said.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said, her tone softening. “It’s not easy to accept that the man I was falling in love with doesn’t feel the same way in return. I know it’s not his fault. You can’t make someone love you, but you know what?”

Starsky didn’t say anything, waiting for her to answer the question.

“He is the type of man who’s worth the pain. Worth the rejection.”

Starsky’s heart ached for her. He knew what it felt like to love Hutch, to long for his kisses, his embrace at night, to drown in his ocean-deep eyes, shattering your heart with his blue gaze. He knew how hard it must be if she felt even a little of that love.

“Delilah, I know Hutch cared. A great deal…”

She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, cutting him off. “It’s ok, Starsky,” she said with a sad smile. “Really. I’ll be fine. I can’t say I’m not hurt, sad even, but I’m not angry. Love is funny that way.”

Starsky watched Delilah descend to the bottom of the stairs, then he turned around and hurried to the top.

****

Starsky leaned against the counter in Hutch’s kitchen, his arms folded. “You care to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever’s on your mind,” Starsky answered. “I saw Delilah on my way up.”

Hutch sank into the sofa. “So, she told you?”

“She told me you ended it,” Starsky answered, ‘but she didn’t say why. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Hutch’s pained eyes lifted. “It was getting too serious,” he said, expanding, “She’s a terrific lady, but I knew she was feeling more for me than I did for her.”

“You sure you’re not just confused, clouded by what’s happening with Kiko?”

“I’m sure,” Hutch replied. “It’s the opposite. What’s happening with Kiko is making things crystal clear.”

Starsky walked over and sat beside Hutch, gently placing a hand on his shaking shoulders. “Talk to me, Hutch,” he said.

“It stinks like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered. “It’s been months since Kiko was arrested. Kiko, who would never hurt anyone, let alone commit murder.”

Starsky squeezed Hutch’s shoulder, pulling him into a side-by-side embrace. “I know it’s tough. We’ve seen this before, haven’t we? Innocent people get caught in a broken system. And it’s worse when it’s a good person like Kiko.”

Hutch let his head rest against Starsky’s shoulder, his breathing slowly steadying. After a moment, he inched away, looking at Starsky with an intense stare.

“I know, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Last year, watching you almost die,” Hutch swallowed hard, as though the memory was still raw, “it was the worst thing I’ve ever been through. Yet, here you are, still with me. You fought so hard to come back, and because of that, I feel like I’ve used up every ounce of good luck I had.”

Starsky turned and tried to calm his agitated partner. “Hutch, you’re the reason I survived. You know that, don’t you? From the moment they restarted my heart, through all the pain, and all the struggles – I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for you. You didn’t cause my bad luck. No, it’s the other way around. You helped me turn that bad luck around. And as hard as it’s been, I’m stronger for it. I’m sure of myself in ways I never was before. I owe so much of that to you.”

Hutch wiped at his face, a look of awe crossing his features. “You told me how you felt that night a few weeks ago,” he looked up through moist eyes. “I was still running; I wasn’t able to tear up the template.”

Starsky furrowed his brow, confused. “The template?”

“Yeah,” Hutch said, sheepishly, staring in the distance as if he were sorting through his thoughts. “You know – the template. The one you’re supposed to follow in life. The one with all the checkboxes: get up, brush your teeth, go to work, pay bills. Maybe even date someone, get married, or have children. For most people, it’s simple. If you’re lucky, privileged even, maybe you get a chance to write something of your own in that empty box at the bottom, where it asks you to ‘add more information.’ Like it’s giving you the illusion you have some input, some choice. Like maybe you decide to do something unscripted, off the template, like visit the Great Wall of China, or go whale watching, or,” he stammered, choking on his words, “or maybe you decide to volunteer with Big Brothers, thinking you can make a difference.”

Starsky reached up and stroked Hutch’s temple. “Go on,” Starsky murmured.

“One day,” Hutch said, “you wake up and realize – you’re just going through the motions. Lying to yourself, day in and day out. It’s the one thing every human has in common, I think. We all lie to ourselves at one time or another. We know we’re doing it, but we do it anyway, until…”

Starsky let Hutch’s words settle in. Finally, he asked, “Until?”

“Until something happens,” Hutch said softly. “Something that makes you wake up and realize the truth, even when it’s hard to face. Something like the situation that’s happening with Kiko.”

Starsky nodded slowly. “I know a little about waking up to the truth myself.”

“I know, and I pushed you away,” Hutch said, radiating regret.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” Starsky said. “I was afraid of pushing you too hard. Afraid of making it worse. No more running, Hutch,” Starsky said, his heart pounding now, his fear mixing with a flicker of hope. “I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter to me. I need you to hear me when I say this— I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

Hutch’s eyes were filled with emotion. “I loved you, too, Starsky. Love you, past and present tense. But, after almost losing you last year, admitting how I felt was terrifying. I didn’t know how to breathe anymore, let alone function without the damned template to keep me going.” His words trailed off for a moment, adding, “And more than anything, I didn’t want my feelings to be a burden to you. You needed to focus all of your energy on getting better. But now, I’m ready to tear up the stupid template. What good did it do? How has following all the rules and checking off all the boxes helped?”

Starsky reached out, gently lifting Hutch’s chin to meet his gaze. “Burden?” Starsky said softly, filled with disbelief. “Hutch, that kiss saved me. You saved me. When I was at my lowest, you brought me back to life. That kiss gave me something to hold onto. It gave me a reason to keep fighting. I carried that feeling all through my recovery, hoping you’d do it again. But I was afraid too. Afraid of pushing you away. Afraid it meant more to me than it did to you. And then you met Delilah. She seemed perfect for you. Smart, beautiful, and kind to everyone. How could I get in the way of that?”

Hutch waited for a beat, then spoke softly. “I was lying to myself about Delilah. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“And you’re not lying anymore?”

“No,” Hutch answered confidently. “All that time, everything was on hold. I was holding back my feelings for reasons I didn’t understand myself. Putting them on pause, “he said, laughing softly. “Like a stay of the heart.”

Starsky looked at him, the truth finally making sense. “A stay of the heart,” he repeated. “I get it, you needed time, Hutch. It wasn’t just me who was hurt by Gunther. Maybe your heart knew, but your head wasn’t ready. You needed to heal, too.”

“I finally started to understand that,” Hutch said. “It’s like Kiko’s whole situation was the spark I needed. It broke me from the damned template. I realized that I can’t control everything. I can’t control bad things happening to the people I love. I can’t control injustice, hate, or the powerful people who want to tear us down. I can only keep moving forward, trying to add more good to the world than I take. And if someone I love is right in front of me, ready to accept my love, then I’m not going to let that go.”

“So this so-called template is gone?” Starsky asked, needing to be sure he understood.

“Burned it up,” Hutch said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And if you’ll have me, I’m ready to start over, make up new rules as we go. I only need one thing from you.”

Starsky pulled Hutch up from the couch, his heart pounding as they stood a few inches apart. “What do you need me to do, Hutch? Name it, and it’s yours.”

“Stay,” Hutch whispered. “I can’t believe I ever asked you to leave. For now, and for always, I need you to stay.”

“That,” Starsky proclaimed with certainty, “I can willingly do.”

Starsky leaned in, tilting his head with anticipation, inching forward slowly, his eyes cast downward as he watched Hutch’s lips move toward him until they touched, sending a shiver down Starsky’s spine as they sealed a new beginning.

He pulled back and looked at Hutch, the depth of his feelings clear.

“For as long as you want me to,” Starsky said, repeating, “I’ll stay.”

It was the simplest and most honest thing Starsky had ever said. A vow to Hutch to stay tonight, tomorrow, and for as many nights after that as he desired.

For the first time in Starsky’s life, forever didn’t seem very long.

***

Hutch took his hand and led Starsky to the bedroom as his strong fingers stroked his neck, roaming to his back, until they reached the bed.

Starsky began removing his jacket.

“Wait,” Hutch instructed. “Let me do that. I want to take it slow and remember this night. That includes undressing you if you’ll let me.”

Starsky knew he was powerless; whatever Hutch asked for, he would give. If he told him to strip, stay dressed, stand, sit, lie down, scream, whisper, or do anything else, Starsky would comply. It wasn’t because of Kiko, Gunther, or any number of other injustices they had to deal with and wished to forget. No, it wasn’t about forgetting. It was about giving, living, and remembering.

“I’m yours,” Starsky said. “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?’ Hutch asked, slipping his fingers under the sleeves of Starsky’s jacket and pulling it off. He reached for the hem of his sweater and tugged it upward, pulling it over Starsky’s head. “Because I want you to know,” he said, his river blue eyes shining, “that having you here, staying with me, is the best gift I’ve ever had.”

“We’re just getting to the good stuff, Hutch,” Starsky said with a smile.

Hutch’s lips trembled against his flushed cheeks, his blond hair damp with sweat. Before long, he had peeled his clothes off, and they stood naked, facing each other, Starsky’s quivering body aching for Hutch’s arms to envelope him, but savoring this time- this moment of before – knowing their first time would never come again.

They collapsed together onto the mattress, the bedspread unraveling beneath their heavy, writhing bodies. Starsky was cocooned by the warmth of Hutch’s body on top of him, surprised at how safe and loved he felt while succumbing to Hutch’s strong arms. Hutch crushed into Starsky, covering his mouth with ravenous kisses, trailing his tongue down his neck, tickling his earlobes, and letting out deep moans of pleasure. Starsky longed to be immersed in Hutch’s touch, not wanting to be left with even one inch of exposed skin.

He pulled his legs around Hutch’s back, and they moved together, rocking, pumping, the sensation against him too much for him to contain. Starsky yelled Hutch’s name as he climaxed against Hutch’s stomach, and a moment later felt the tide of Hutch’s semen burst out and cover his trembling chest.

He knew they would have to separate soon, pull apart to clean up, but Starsky waited for a while as he caught his breath and relished this time – the moment of after, the first of what he knew would be many to come.

Chapter 11

Starsky awoke, stirring beneath the covers, Hutch’s warm body next to him. They had shared a bed every night for the past couple of weeks. He relished every moment, the lovemaking at night that seemed to erase the frustrations of the day, and the mornings that called for fresh hope, despite the difficult battle ahead.

Starsky felt as though he had finally reached an off-ramp, leading to a new path where life no longer had to be an unrelenting road of mere existence.

He gazed at Hutch, his countenance smooth and untroubled as he slept. After Gunther, Hutch had often slept on Starsky’s sofa, but that was different. Starsky would sometimes wake in the night to look at him, Hutch’s face creased with quiet worry even in his dreams. Hutch was his pillar, guarding Starsky even in his sleep. Countless times, Starsky wanted to break down and give up, but Hutch was a rock, letting nothing shatter him. Now, more than anything, Starsky longed to be that same source of strength for Hutch.

He tilted his head up and aimed his lips at the nearest part of Hutch, planting a kiss on his earlobe. “Good morning,” he said, “Are you awake?”

Hutch lay still, but his quivering mouth gave him away, his smile broadening. “Yeah, I’m awake,” he said. “For a minute, I was afraid I was dreaming.”

Starsky stroked Hutch’s arm, snuggling under the crook of his shoulder, enjoying the quiet stillness of the morning. “Do you mind if I ask you something? About Delilah?”

Hutch repositioned his body, his gaze inquisitive, yet trusting and open. “You can ask me anything, Starsk.”

Starsky pursed his lips and asked, “Did you love her?”

“I cared for her very much,” Hutch answered. “I think I loved her as much or more than any other woman in my life. Yet, it was nothing compared to what I feel for you. I knew it then, and I know it even more so now.”

Starsky smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said. “So if you saw her again, it wouldn’t be weird for you?”

“No, not at all. It might be weird for her, though, I can’t say for sure. Why are you asking?”

“Because something occurred to me last night. Weird how thoughts become clear after you have a good night’s sleep.”

Hutch chuckled. “Or after a good night of sex?”

“Oh, that helped too,” Starsky teased.

“So what thoughts did you have about Delilah?” Hutch asked, his brow furrowed. “You know, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to her.”

“I know, that’s why I feel safe saying this. I think we should pay her a visit.”

“Visit her? Whatever for?”

“It may be nothing,” Starsky continued, “It’s probably a dead-end. You see, I was thinking about how lucky I am, having you here with me…”

Starsky was rewarded with a squeeze on his shoulder, and his lips turned up in a smile. “And then I got to thinking about how upset Delilah was that day after you ended it.”

Hutch’s face fell. “I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“I know,” Starsky said. “But it got me thinking back about the first time I met her at your apartment, the morning after Kiko got arrested. Didn’t she say she works as a manager at First National Bank? The one across the parking lot from the El Paso restaurant where Kiko worked?”

“That’s right, but Starsk, I don’t follow.”

“It’s like what Huggy said about getting proof about Murphy and Mendoza. He said people would have to see that kind of thing with their own eyes to believe it.”

“Now, you’ve officially lost me,” Hutch said with a laugh. “Exactly what are you talking about?”

“Videotapes, Hutch. Didn’t Delilah say the bank was working on installing a new security system, with video cameras both inside and outside the bank? Do you think there’s a chance that any of those cameras were pointed at the parking lot that’s shared with El Paso? If so, maybe they caught Murphy and Mendoza on tape talking together, the day Kiko said he saw them out back?”

“Oh my God,” Hutch said. “If there is a video recording of that meeting, that would prove what Kiko claimed all along – that Murphy and Mendoza knew each other, and that Kiko witnessed something going down between them. The trial starts next week. Why didn’t I think of that before?”

“I didn’t think of it either, Hutch, don’t blame yourself. So what do you think?”

“I think I’ll call Delilah and throw myself on her mercy.”

Chapter 12

Starsky stood outside the First National Bank, looking up at the doorway at the back.

“Look,” Starsky said, pointing up. “There are multiple cameras out here, covering the whole parking lot probably, plus the shared lot with El Paso. I wonder how often the tapes are wiped?”

“One way to find out,” Hutch said, squinting as he pursued the camera angles. “Let’s go inside. Delilah is expecting us.”

Delilah strode out to the front of the bank, a crisp white shirt tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged her hips as she walked.

“Hutch,” she said, her lips turned up in a faint smile. “And Starsky. Hello. When you called, you said it was urgent. How can I help?” she asked, ushering them into her office.

“Delilah,” Hutch began, “Thank you for letting us come here. I know things ended abruptly between us…”

She raised her hand to stop him, “It’s okay, Hutch. That’s in the past. There are no hard feelings, I mean that,” she shrugged. “What can I do for you?”

“Delilah, do you remember, you told us the bank was installing a new security system? With video cameras at every teller, and also in the parking lot?” Hutch asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Cost the bank a ton of money, and we’re still working out the bugs.”

“For how long does the bank keep the tapes?” Hutch asked.

“The bank has kept all the tapes since the beginning of the installation several months ago,” Delilah said with a small chuckle. “Believe me, it’s starting to take up a lot of room, but until we work out a proper file storage and retrieval system, it’s the only way to be sure we don’t lose anything important. Why do you ask?”

“It has to do with Kiko’s case,” Starsky jumped in. “Would we be able to go through any tapes that perhaps include the parking lot that’s shared with the El Paso restaurant next door? It may take hours, so we would need to have a room here at the bank if we could.”

“I can do you better. If the police department is willing to guarantee the tape’s safe return, you can take them off premises and review them as long as you need to,” Delilah answered. She picked up the telephone. “Harry, I’m going to be sending two detectives over to the security vault. Please give them whatever they need.”

She nodded at Hutch, “Harry will sign out the tapes for you,” she smiled. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Hutch.”

Hutch’s smile widened, and he extended his hand to Delilah, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek, “Thank you,” he said. “You are one hell of a lady.”

Hutch turned and left the office, Starsky following behind.

“Starsky,” Delilah said, interrupting Starsky’s stride. “Wait for a minute?”

Starsky turned to her and gave a small, acknowledging nod.

“I owe you an apology for how I acted on the stairs outside Hutch’s apartment that day,” she admitted. “I was upset, caught up in my emotions. I was out of line when I asked you if there was someone else. Do you remember telling me you couldn’t answer that question?”

Starsky’s brow furrowed slightly as he remembered the moment. “I remember,” he said, his neck muscles beginning to feel tense.

“Could you answer it now?” Delilah said softly.

That day on the stairs, Starsky hadn’t known if Hutch was ready to take a leap about his feelings. But today, he knew exactly where he stood, and more importantly, to whom Hutch’s heart belonged.

He nodded. “Yes. I could answer that. But I’m sorry, it’s not my place to say – that would be Hutch’s decision.”

“Funny, but I think you just answered me anyway,” she said warmly. “And just so you know, I’m not angry. Love between two people is beautiful, no matter who they are. I hope you are both happy together, I mean that.”

Starsky began to panic, opening his mouth but not knowing what to say.

Delilah held up her hand and said, “I’m not about to say anything to anyone. I just wanted you to know, so you could tell Hutch there are no hard feelings.”

Starsky exhaled in relief, his shoulders relaxing. “Hutch is right, you’re one hell of a lady,” he said. “Thanks for giving us access to these tapes. It means a lot.”

Delilah gave a small nod, her smile still in place. “Hutch seems to believe that Kiko Ramos is innocent, and that’s enough for me to know it’s worth pursuing. You’d better get going and catch up with him,” she said. “He’s going to need all the help he can get.”

*****

Hutch carried a box of films into the audio-visual room at the station, which contained several video cassette stations. They were grateful the police department had invested in the latest VCR technology that was starting to become popular across the country. Dobey had granted Starsky and Hutch unlimited access to the room to review the bank’s surveillance footage for as long as they needed.

The tapes were organized by date, and each day contained a full twenty-four hours of film. Delilah had given them a week’s worth of film, a total of seven tapes.

“We know Kiko saw Murphy and Carpenter arguing about something two nights before everything went down,” Hutch said. “He said it was about an hour into his shift, which started at six o’clock. We should be able to find it pretty quickly, assuming the camera captured it.”

Starsky nodded, already flipping through the tapes. He started advancing the frames on the screen. Each shot showed the parking lot of the bank, with a clear view of the back of the El Paso restaurant.

“Most of this is just cars coming in and out of the bank,” Starsky said, “and some people walking to the front of the restaurant. Nothing unusual.”

Hutch watched the screen closely. “We’re almost there, hang on… bingo,” he said. “There’s Murphy and Carpenter, right on schedule.”

Starsky paused the video. The two men were clearly in the middle of a conversation; one that looked heated, judging by their body language. One frame showed Murphy with his hands in the air, while Carpenter appeared tense. The next section went on for ten minutes, with Murphy’s arms caught waving up and down until there was a shot of the back door of the restaurant opening.

Kiko appeared in the next frame, wearing a white apron and a busboy hat, carrying a garbage bag. He heaved the bag over his head and dropped it into the dumpster beside the door. Then, Kiko seemed to stop and look directly at the two men. One frame showed Kiko looking directly at Murphy.

“There,” Hutch said. “Just like Kiko described it. Murphy’s staring right at him.”

Kiko went back into the restaurant. Then, the footage showed Carpenter walking off-camera, his face appearing troubled. One minute later, another man came onto the shot. A man with black hair, wearing a black leather jacket, and what looked like heavy chains around his neck.

Starsky sat back. “That’s Angelo Mendoza,” he said, recognition flashing in his eyes. “No doubt about it.”

“Advance it another minute, will you?” Hutch said.

Starsky fast-forwarded the tape. This time, Kiko came out the back door again.

In the next few shots, Murphy made eye contact with Kiko once more, and it was clear he was shouting at him, his fists raised in aggression. Kiko quickly went back inside, and after that, no more shots of Kiko appeared.

Mendoza and Murphy stood talking for a few more minutes before Mendoza flicked his cigarette on the ground and walked away.

Hutch leaned back in his chair. “That bastard. Samuel Murphy claimed he never spoke to Mendoza that night and swore up and down that Kiko was lying. But here he is, plain as day, talking to a known drug dealer, off duty, and in a secluded area. Not to mention that he claimed he had never seen Kiko before, and yet, only two days before the shooting, here he was making eye contact and screaming something at the very same kid. It’s like…”

“Like what?” Starsky asked.

“It’s like what we thought. Either Murphy, or Mendoza, or both were scared about what Kiko saw, or thought he saw, and wanted him out of the way.”

“Is this tape enough proof?”

“I don’t know, but Kiko’s trial is very soon,” Huch said. “This tape would at least shed some doubt on Murphy’s story, not to mention his character. The jury will have a chance to see that he was lying about never seeing Kiko before, arguing with Carpenter two nights before he was killed, and on top of it all, fraternizing with Mendoza off-duty. What do you think? You buy it?”

Starsky nodded. “I buy it.

“Let’s go see Danny Walters right away,” Hutch said, packing up the incriminating tape for evidence. “There’s no time to lose.”

Chapter 13

Starsky and Hutch sat at the back of Judge Whitfield’s chamber. Danny Walters and the District Attorney were in front of the judge’s desk, waiting for the judge to return with his ruling about admitting the tapes into evidence.

Starsky leaned forward, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee, while Hutch sat beside him, equally on edge. The door to the chamber opened, and Judge Whitfield walked in, his expression unreadable.

Judge Thomas Whitfield was in his mid-forties, his hair graying at the temples, his stride confident as he walked into his chambers and took a seat behind his polished cherry wood desk. He was younger than other judges in his position, elected six months ago, a staunch conservative who ran on his hard-line views. He carried himself with an air of superiority, which Starsky thought bordered on arrogance, although Starsky thought that about many people in the judicial system who seemed to forget who they were serving and why.

The group in the room stood up when he entered his office.

“You may sit,” The judge said as he sat behind his desk. “I’ve reviewed the tapes, as well as the arguments presented. After considering the relevance to the case, I’ve come to a decision.”

The silence stretched as everyone in the judge’s office waited for his words.

“My conclusion is that the tapes are inadmissible,” Whitfield declared.

“What?” Hutch exclaimed from the back of the room.

Judge Whitfield’s eyes snapped up, then looked away, ignoring the outburst.

Danny Walters turned to Hutch, indicating he would take it from there.

“Your Honor, for the court record, I argue that the tapes offer valuable insight,” Walters said. “They cast doubt on Murphy’s claim that he never saw Kiko Ramos before, and also add proof of Murphy’s relationship with Mendoza, who, I might add, had a known connection to Jose Garcia. The defense maintains that Kiko Ramos was set up by Jose Garcia. For that reason, we strongly believe they should be admissible for the jury to see that there is an alternate and plausible theory – where Jose Garcia was the killer, not Kiko Ramos, and that Murphy is either grossly mistaken or lying about what he saw the night of the shooting.”

“Mr. Walters,” the judge said, “the fact that Mendoza and Murphy are seen together on the tape is, at best, a coincidence. It is not unusual for a cop to roust a suspected criminal in public.” He glanced impatiently at the two detectives, continuing, “There’s insufficient proof to suggest that Murphy is involved in any wrongdoing, and the tapes prove no clear link to the events around the shooting two days later. It is far too speculative to create reasonable doubt. Therefore, the tapes will not be admitted into evidence.”

Starsky felt the judge’s words land like a crushing blow to his insides.

Judge Whitfield continued, “Furthermore, the tapes were improperly obtained, and the chain of custody has been compromised.” He glared at Hutch at the back of the room. “They do not meet the legal standards for evidence.”

“This is crap!” Hutch shouted, unable to contain his anger. “How can you dismiss this, your Honor? The tapes were legally obtained from the bank, and they show that Murphy’s actions are suspicious and that Mendoza is wrapped up in it!”

Starsky put a hand on Hutch’s arm, pulling him back down gently. “Easy,” he murmured, his tone soothing.

Judge Whitfield turned an icy stare towards Hutch, his teeth clenched in anger. “You are out of order, Detective Hutchinson. One more outburst from you and I will hold you in contempt, understood?”

Starsky heard Hutch’s escalated breathing, and he placed a hand on his shoulder, silently urging him to let it go. Arguing with the judge and landing himself in jail wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Kiko.

“Listen up, and listen well,” Whitfield said sternly, “I know that the public wants justice, first and foremost. They do not want a trial that turns into a circus with unsubstantiated theories flying around that detract from the administration of justice. My ruling is final,” Whitfield said to Walters. “That will be all.”

Everyone stood and quietly vacated the judge’s chamber.

Starsky pulled Danny Walters aside. “What now, Walters?” Starsky asked the lawyer.

Walters sighed deeply, “We move forward. The ruling is final for now, but we’ll continue to build the case. If Kiko is convicted, we’ll bring up the tapes in the appeal.”

Hutch’s frustration was palpable. “Appeal?” he repeated. “How can we even talk about an appeal? At the rate this judge is moving, he’ll fly through the appeal process too.”

“I get it, Hutch,” Walters said with resolve. “But we have to keep going. There’s still work to be done.”

Starsky’s hand was still on Hutch’s arm, offering some small comfort as they processed the disappointing news. “What’s next then?” he asked.

Walters looked between them. “I’ll need you, Hutch, as a character witness next week. I know it’s frustrating, but you’re one of the most important witnesses for Kiko’s defense. You need to put on your best front for the jury.”

Hutch nodded slowly, the fight still in his eyes. “I’ll be there,” he said.

Starsky placed a hand on Hutch’s shoulder as they left. “None of this makes sense,” he said quietly. “Those tapes could’ve cast reasonable doubt. Now we’ll never know.”

Hutch didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave a small nod, leaning into Starsky’s touch. “I know,” he murmured, “I know.”

The hope for a not-guilty verdict had already begun to fade, even before the trial had truly begun.

*****

Tensions grew beyond what Starsky imagined as the trial dragged on for the next month. The atmosphere in the courtroom grew increasingly charged, with Molly, Rosa, Dobey, and even Danny Walters on edge. Everyone seemed to sense the looming injustice about to fall on the boy. Above all, Starsky could feel Hutch’s frustration. His temper was short, his face etched with deep worry lines. Starsky felt it too, but he also knew that the darkest hours were still ahead.

Finally, the day came when the trial concluded, and both the prosecution and the defense rested their cases.

“Normally in trials like this, jury deliberations could take days, even weeks,” Danny Walters told them. “We can only wait and see.”

But Walters was mistaken. This was far from a normal trial, and Starsky knew it.

Starsky had paid attention to the sympathetic reactions on the jurors’ faces after they heard the eyewitness testimony of a veteran cop who had lost his partner. He clocked their horrified expressions when they learned that Kiko’s fingerprints were found on the gun. They nodded knowingly when it was announced that Kiko was found three blocks from the scene of the crime, running away.

Starsky knew the jury had been given no alternative theory and no other suspects to consider. They were not allowed to see witness testimony from any Warrior members who would have been forced to admit under oath that Kiko Ramos was not a member of their gang. They were never told that the key eye-witness, Officer Samuel Murphy, had been seen arguing with his partner before talking to a drug dealer named Angelo Mendoza, right in front of Kiko Ramos, only two days before the murders. Nor were they informed that the encounter had been recorded, which would have put to rest any dispute about its occurrence. The only defense Kiko’s lawyer could offer was that a punk named Jose Garcia had set him up. But that punk was dead and could not be cross-examined. Furthermore, Jose’s mother testified under oath that her son had never left the house that night.

So, the defendant Kiko Ramos was left with no defense at all.

The jury deliberated for less than four hours.

Chapter 14

Starsky plodded through the door, nearly dragging Hutch up the stairs to his apartment. They removed their shoes, took off their jackets, and hung their holsters.

“Guilty of murder in the first degree. Kiko. I can’t believe it,” Starsky said, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“The jury came back so quickly,” Hutch said, dejectedly. “Didn’t ask for a review of any testimony or a copy of the transcripts. They reviewed the forensics, that’s about all. Open and shut, that’s what the press called it.”

To the world, Kiko was just another troubled Hispanic teenager, a criminal, another statistic caught up in violence. To those people, the verdict was justified, wrapped neatly behind a veil of racism and stereotype.

“My testimony as a character witness for Kiko didn’t matter,” Hutch said bitterly, raw emotion on display. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised. People are too busy swallowing the hard-line views shoved down their throats. No mercy for gang violence. No second chances, especially if you are from a family of immigrants, a legal citizen or not. Accused, convicted, and judged – all before the trial even started if you ask me.”

“First of all, your testimony did matter,” Starsky argued. “It showed Kiko – it showed everyone – what you believe about that boy. It might not have changed the outcome, but it meant something. It matters to him, Hutch. It does.”

“You think so?” Hutch asked, starting to pace the floor, “The prosecution’s demanding the death penalty, and the public’s eating up all the lies about how ‘fair’ the justice system is. It’s like we live in a world where widespread uproar and frenzy are driving the narrative, pushing for an outcome that ignores the truth.” Hutch’s posture had sunken with defeat. “It’s all a big nightmare.”

“There’s still hope,” Starsky assured him, wanting it to be true. “There’s an appeal process, Hutch. We can keep looking for evidence. There’s always a way forward. For all we know, there were more instances of Murphy and Mendoza meeting, doing shady deals. It’s too bad we don’t happen to have any more sketchy encounters on tape, but that doesn’t mean there’s no proof out there.”

Hutch stopped in his tracks, his features bleak. “Sure, an appeal. Most of those don’t end in an overturned sentence. They get deferred and dragged out. Meanwhile, Kiko’s stuck in a cell, surrounded by hardened criminals…”

Hutch was pacing around the room, his distress obvious, each stride fueling the mounting agitation in the air.

“Hey,” Starsky said, setting the glass on the counter. He hurried toward Hutch and grabbed his elbow. “It’s going to be okay.”

Hutch dislodged his arm from Starsky’s grip and moved to the front door, pressing his hands against it and hanging his head. “What good did any of it do!” he shouted.

Hutch stepped back, his eyes fixated on the football poster that hung on the inside of his door. He stared at it, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths.

“Did you know Kiko gave me this poster?” Hutch said, the life drained from his voice. “Of the Dallas Cowboys? All because I took him to a football game once – Rams versus Cowboys. The next day, he goes and finds this poster and buys it for me. I hung it up right here, on the door. Told him I wanted to be reminded of the fun we had that day every time I left the house,” he sighed, not moving.

Starsky stood back, watching with concern as Hutch stared at the poster, hearing the pain as it flowed from his voice.

“You know what else Kiko said?” Hutch’s voice shook with a strange mix of bitterness and sorrow. “He said he learned to understand football that day. He said he loved how the players wore those colorful uniforms and huge helmets, but more importantly, he liked how we couldn’t see their faces. If you didn’t know who they were, you couldn’t tell if they were black, white, Latino, Asian… it didn’t matter. They were just players, equals on the field, all there to do their job.”

Hutch’s breath caught in his throat, a fire igniting behind his eyes. “An idealist. That’s Kiko, isn’t it?” His words were laced with frustration.

Then, without warning, Hutch’s hands shot out, grabbing the poster and yanking it from the doorframe, the sound of the paper tearing through the air like a shout of defiance. Starsky winced as the sharp rip echoed in the room, each strip fluttering to the floor in slow motion, drifting down like discarded confetti.

“Hutch!” Starsky shouted, watching defenselessly. “Hutch, stop!”

Hutch ignored him, raising a fist and punching the defenseless door, over and over, with each strike, his hand growing red and raw from the relentless pounding.

Starsky couldn’t stand it another minute. He grabbed Hutch and pulled him away from the battered door, letting Hutch sink backward into his arms.

“Hutch,” he repeated, “It’s me, I’m here,” Starsky said softly. “I’ve got you.”

Hutch fell to his knees. Starsky dropped down with him and wrapped his arms around Hutch’s back. “Don’t let this break you,” Starsky whispered, “Kiko needs you now more than ever.”

Hutch held his face in his raw hands and sagged even further. “I know,” Hutch said, starting to calm. “But I don’t know how else to help him.”

“You don’t always have to be the one doing the helping, Hutch,” Starsky soothed. “Sometimes, you need to be the one accepting the help. Let me help you tonight, Hutch. Let me.”

Hutch turned to Starsky, both of them still on their knees, his eyes blue like turbulent waves on the ocean, pleading with need. “I need you tonight, Starsk, more than ever.”

Starsky knew what Hutch’s look meant. He wanted to make love to Starsky, slowly, as if every moment counted, knowing every kiss, every touch was sacred, to be treated as a scarce jewel, cherished, and protected.

Starsky didn’t argue, never able to say no, or more precisely, never wanting to. He knew that Hutch was fragile at that moment, his emotions exploding on his sleeve as he teetered precariously between anger and sadness.

What Hutch needed most was not just support, or even sex. What Hutch desperately needed was balance. He needed a chance to be strong when the outside world had beaten him down.

Starsky was more than willing to give that to him.

He reached for Hutch’s hand, pulling him off the floor and leading him to the bedroom.

Hutch wasted no time, pulling off Starsky’s shirt and throwing it onto the floor. His face was etched with an overwhelming passion, devouring Starsky like he was the single source of sustenance that could satisfy his hunger.

Starsky savored the touch of Hutch’s roaming hands as his shirt was pulled over his head and thrown to the floor. Hutch lowered his gaze, pushing Starsky backward on the bed and removing his shoes and jeans. Starsky lay there, panting from the heated movement, anticipating every move with bated breath.

Hutch quickly removed his clothes, standing over Starsky, erect, his strength on full display. Starsky knew making love with Hutch would reach new depths that night, beyond need and love and passion, to a venting of fear, a cathartic release of months of stress and sadness.

“I’m right here,” Starsky managed to say. “Take me, use me for what you need. I want you to.”

Hutch widened his haunted eyes, then softened, a look of love emanating through the darkened room. “I love you,” he said, reaching for a tube of lubricant from his bag.

He turned Starsky onto his stomach, pushing him up toward the headboard, tugging a pillow under Starsky’s body. Velvety soft hands stroked Starsky’s hair, his neck tingling from the sensation as they trailed downward to his back. Fingers played him like an instrument, reaching his buttocks where they lingered, using the lube to massage his opening and prepare him for entry. Starsky moaned, unable to hide the pleasure he felt, knowing he was receiving as much as he was giving at that moment.

Hutch didn’t wait, grunting with desire, kissing the back of Starsky’s neck with ravenous pressure. He moved his lips down Starsky’s back, a moan of desperation escaping him as he urgently found the passage, entering Starsky as though he was searching for the depths of Starsky’s inner soul. Hutch cried out with each rocking motion, each thrust deepening as he pumped, harder and harder until he shouted with abandon and uncontrolled need.

Starsky reached down and stroked himself, climaxing onto the bedspread as he felt the wetness enter him, spilling out onto his backside as Hutch’s cries subsided to whimpering sighs.

Starsky felt the strong hands turn him over, and Hutch squeezed him with the remainder of his strength. Hutch flashed a tired, contented smile, and Starsky held him, soothing him with whispered breaths as they wrapped around each other and slept.

Chapter 15

Starsky wished like hell Hutch had been wrong. However, Hutch said from the beginning that the district attorney would seek blood and demand the public be served a head on a platter. For reasons that Starsky couldn’t understand, the judge heard those pleas and decried the defendant’s actions as deserving of punishment to the full extent of the law.

It only took a week after the verdict for sentencing to occur. The words of Judge Thomas Whitfield became ingrained in Starsky’s mind.

“After considering all the evidence and deliberating upon the appropriate sentence by the law, the court hereby sentences Kiko Ramos to death by lethal gas. This sentence is to be carried out in the gas chamber at San Quentin State Prison. May God have mercy on your soul.”

Hutch also said that all aspects of this trial smelled of something bigger. Like the wheels of justice were moving too quickly, too efficiently. It was practically unheard of for a sentence to be handed down so quickly.

The appeals process moved just as swiftly, if you could call it an appeal. It was unprecedented for an appeal to be expedited and closed all within two months.

At the end of it all, the sentencing would stand, and it would happen in two weeks. From arrest to trial, to conviction, to sentencing, to execution, all within a year.

“I need to see him,” Hutch said, “before it’s too late.” He barely choked out the words.

“I know,” was all Starsky could say. “It’s a six-hour drive. We can leave early tomorrow morning and see him in the afternoon. We can find a hotel tomorrow night and come back the next day.”

Hutch nodded, letting Starsky take the lead.

*****

“Hutch, you came,” Kiko smiled, then looked at Starsky. “And Starsky, you’re here too. Thank you both.”

Starsky pulled out a chair for Hutch to sit in the gray visiting room, aware that the guard in the corner could not be convinced to leave, and that the two armed guards outside the door were ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. He sat down next to Hutch.

“Of course, we’re here,” Hutch said softly, glancing at the guard and back again as he lowered his voice. “Kiko, I haven’t given up on you.”

Kiko chuckled. “Not even now, Hutch? Not after a jury found me guilty? Said I pulled the trigger and killed four people in cold blood, one of them a cop? Not after the entire city has written awful things about me, about my mother, even about Molly? Said my mother should never have been allowed in this country, and it doesn’t matter that I was legally born here.” His eyes crinkled as they gathered moisture, his handcuffed wrists clinking as he shook. “How can it be that you still have faith in me when it seems the rest of the world wants to punish me?”

“Because,” Hutch said determinedly, “I know you are innocent, and nothing can change my mind. I know the…” he waited, as though choosing his words. “I know the day is scheduled for next week, but I’ll keep fighting. And so will Starsky.”

Starsky nodded, touching Hutch’s shoulders, “He’s right, kid,” Starsky added, “we aren’t giving up.”

Kiko shook his head and stared at the table for a moment before looking at Hutch. “I don’t want you to be there,” Kiko said.

Starsky could barely hear Kiko’s plea, but the intensity on his face left no doubt about his sincerity. “Please, don’t come and see it, Hutch,” Kiko repeated.

Hutch’s complexion turned a shade of gray, more unsettling than Starsky had ever seen through all the harrowing weeks.

“Kiko,” Hutch said, “Let’s not think about that right now.”

“I have no choice but to think about it,” Kiko said. “There’s no more time. Please, do as I ask. It will be bad enough to have my mother there, and Molly,” he sighed, his eyes locked on Hutch. “But I can’t stand the thought of you having to watch it. Please, for me, don’t come. If Starsky were willing to be there, to support my mother and Molly, in your place, that would be enough.”

Starsky felt a boulder rise in his throat. He didn’t want to see the pain on either of their faces. He needed to end it before it became too hard for both of them. “I’ll do whatever you need, kid,” Starsky said.

Hutch nodded, silently agreeing to the terms. He clasped Kiko’s hand with both of his and squeezed. “I’m not giving up,” he said again.

“It’s okay, Hutch,” Kiko conceded. “I know there’s nothing else you can do.”

*****

The hotel was not far from San Quentin prison, cozy but no-frills, offering basic comfort for travelers looking for a straightforward stay. The room featured a double bed with simple, plain linens and pillows that provided a comfortable enough place to rest.

Hutch swung his overnight bag onto the nightstand and sat wearily on one of the beds.

“It’s okay,” Starsky said, “Let’s get some sleep.”

Hutch looked up, flushed with emotion, his eyes puffy from too many late evenings and sleepless nights.

“Will you just hold me tonight?” Hutch asked.

Starsky gently lowered Hutch onto the bed and settled on his side. He reached out, his fingers softly brushing against Hutch’s trembling lips. “I love you, Hutch,” he asserted his feelings, in case Hutch still had any doubt. “When you asked me to stay that night, it was the best moment of my life. No matter what happens out there, no matter how hard it gets, I need you to remember how much I love you. I’ll hold you, tonight and every night after, because I know you’re holding me right back, just as tightly.”

Hutch eased his body against Starsky and pulled him close. “What would I do without you?” he whispered.

That night, they nestled under the covers, and Hutch clung to Starsky like a drowning man to a raft, his quiet sobs vibrating on his shoulder.

Starsky held him close, as he promised, and didn’t let go.

****

They drove home the next morning, and the week slipped away in a blur. They scoured for last-minute clues, hopelessly turning over stones that had already been overturned countless times. But it was all in vain.

When the futile week ended, Starsky drove back to San Quentin, and as he promised to Kiko, this time without Hutch by his side.

The day they had all been dreading had arrived.

Chapter 16

He forced himself to stare at the horrific sight, waiting to hear the executioner’s final command.

Then, suddenly, he heard it, but it was not the sound that Starsky expected. He froze as the shattering ringing of a telephone echoed through the chamber.

Everything stopped as the room held its collective breath.

The prison warden, Robert Caledon, who had been standing stiffly at the back, hurried to answer it. Starsky felt as though the seconds stretched impossibly long until the warden finally slammed down the phone and made his announcement.

“Halt the process immediately! The Governor’s office has ordered a stay of execution,” he said, looking directly at Kiko. “There has been new information presented regarding your case.”

The attending medic removed the helmet from the young man’s head and untied the straps around his arms and legs.

Kiko appeared to be in shock as his hands flew to his face, covering it as sobs wracked his body. The guard stepped back, allowing Kiko to recover from the reality of what had almost happened.

Starsky watched, stunned, as the guards handcuffed Kiko and escorted him from the chamber. He barely registered the sound of Mrs. Ramos’s sobs of relief or Molly’s cries of joy. He tuned out the protests from the victim’s families, ignoring their shouts for retribution, driven by grief he knew, rather than the pursuit of truth.

He released a shuddering breath, knowing without a doubt that there was only one person in the world who could be responsible for what just happened. The one person would never give up on the people he loved, not even for a second. The mere thought of him made Starsky overflow with pride, filling him with the kind of love that you reserve for the other half of your soul.

He wiped the moisture from the corners of his eyes and softly whispered his name.

“Hutch.”

*****

Starsky sprang from his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. He threw his arms around Kiko’s mother, her body trembling with joy, her grip on him firm. Then, he turned to Molly and pulled her into a firm hug.

“We need to go see what’s happening,” Starsky said, wavering with barely contained relief. He led them out of the witness room, his steps hurried down the corridor. The hallway was a whirlwind of activity, and Starsky spotted the warden, Robert Caledon, walking briskly toward him.

“Caledon!” Starsky shouted at the warden, trying to cut through the noise. “I’m here with Kiko Ramos’s family. They have a right to know what’s going on.”

Caledon turned, recognition flashing in his eyes. He gave a sharp nod, acknowledging Starsky’s presence before looking at the group behind him. “Take them into a private interview room,” he instructed a nearby guard. “Get them out of here before the reporters or protesters show up.”

He turned back to Starsky. “I’ll meet you there shortly.”

Starsky moved quickly, guiding Mrs. Ramos and Molly into the office. The room was sparse – just a long wooden table with several leather chairs scattered around it, a speakerphone sitting at the center.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door swung open, and Caledon stepped in. Behind him, two guards escorted Kiko into the room, still handcuffed, his face pale but his posture straighter than it had been only moments ago. Mrs. Ramos and Molly jumped from their seats, their arms enveloping him in a crushing hug.

“I just got off the phone with the Governor. Take the cuffs off him,” Caledon ordered.

A guard walked over and released Kiko’s wrists.

“We need everyone to have a seat,” Caledon said firmly. “Mr. Ramos’s lawyer, Mr. Walters, is on the phone and will explain everything.”

The room fell into an almost stunned silence as Danny Walters’s voice crackled over the speakerphone.

“Kiko,” Danny said, “I want you to know we’ve filed an immediate motion to vacate your conviction. The Governor’s given us his full support to expedite this motion.”

Caledon looked at Kiko with a brief nod of sympathy. “Once we receive the motion, we can arrange for your release as soon as possible.”

Kiko spoke, his breath catching in his throat. “Oh my God. It’s a miracle!”

“Yes,” Walters said, adding with confidence, “And you can thank Detective Ken Hutchinson for that miracle.”

“Hutch?” Kiko whispered. “Are you there too?”

Suddenly, the speakerphone crackled again, and Starsky’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of Hutch’s voice.

“Hello, Kiko.”

Starsky felt a swell of pride rise in his chest. He imagined Hutch, exhausted but determined, his blond hair matted to his forehead from the stress of the night. It was a miracle, but he knew it was also Hutch’s work – the work he had pulled off when no one else thought it was possible.

“Hutch!” Kiko cried out. “I hoped so hard you didn’t hate me.”

“Hate you?” Hutch said through the speaker. “That was never going to happen, Kiko, never. Is my partner in the room?”

Starsky couldn’t help but smile, leaning into the speakerphone. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Hutch responded.

Starsky could hear Hutch’s tone become lighter. “You can thank Starsky as much as me for this, Kiko. It was Starsky’s words that gave me an idea last night. And I also had a little help from some friends.”

Kiko turned to Starsky, surprise written across his face. “What’s going on?”

Starsky blinked, struggling to process the whirlwind of new information. “No idea. Hutch, what idea did I give you? And who helped you out? Fill us in.”

The room went quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the speakerphone and Hutch’s deep breath. Every head tilted forward, eager to hear him speak.

Hutch began recounting what had happened.

He was at the station, flipping through files related to Kiko’s case for what felt like the hundredth time. Something was missing, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite put together. Just as he was lost in thought, the phone rang.

“Hutchinson,” he answered curtly.

“Hutch?” A woman’s voice came over the line. “It’s Delilah.”

Hutch sat up, surprised by the call. “Delilah? Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I tried calling your apartment, but when I didn’t get an answer, I thought I’d try the station. I wasn’t sure if you were in town or if you had gone to San Quentin for the…”

“No, I’m not going,” Hutch interrupted. “Kiko asked me not to, and to be honest, I don’t know if I could handle being a witness to it.”

“I know,” she said softly. “And I’m calling to tell you how sorry I am. From everything you’ve said, I believe Kiko’s an innocent kid caught up in a political game. I know it’s not much, but I wanted to tell you that.”

“I appreciate that, Delilah, I truly do.”

“I know the tapes the bank provided weren’t allowed into evidence. And when the judge ordered the bank to destroy them, I couldn’t believe it.”

“Wait,” Hutch asked, shocked. “What did you say?”

“The judge ordered every tape from that night and any recordings from the week following to not only be withheld from evidence but also destroyed,” she repeated. “My boss and the board were freaking out, worried they’d be held liable for giving the tapes to the cops, even though we had every right to do so. So they destroyed them – all of them. I thought you knew.”

“I had no idea the judge ordered them destroyed. That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” Hutch asked. “Why would the judge go that far?”

“My exact question,” she answered. “I tried to fight it, but the board overruled me. They said I should be grateful I still have a job after what I did,” she paused. “I don’t know what you found on those tapes, Hutch, but I know it must have been something big enough for the judge to want them destroyed. I’m sorry.”

Hutch’s eyes narrowed. “Delilah, I’m sorry we got you wrapped up in this. But I have to confess something. Starsky and I – we made copies of the tapes. My partner said we needed insurance; he gets some pretty good ideas sometimes. We have all seven days’ worth here at the station, in storage. Only Captain Dobey and Danny Walters are aware of it.”

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to Starsky. He shrugged, a guilty but innocent smile on his lips. “It wasn’t that hard. Huggy knew a guy,” Starsky declared.

“Before anyone panics,” Hutch chimed in, “I want to make it clear that the police and the defense were within their rights to hold onto any possible evidence until the trial was over at least. Of course, using Huggy’s connection to make copies might have been a little unorthodox, but Starsky and I have been in trouble for a lot less.”

Starsky smiled in agreement.

Caledon shifted the room’s focus back to the speaker. “Go on, Hutchinson.”

Hutch picked up where he left off. As I was saying, I was speaking to Delilah on the telephone…

“Oh my God, Delilah, it’s like Starsky said. There were probably a lot more meetings between Murphy and Mendoza; it’s just too bad we don’t have them on tape.”

“Did I say that?” Starsky asked sheepishly.

“You did, partner,” Hutch said, “And it got me thinking…”

“Delilah, maybe there’s something else on those tapes that we haven’t seen, and maybe someone convinced the judge to have them destroyed to eliminate any chances of seeing it!”

“But who would have that kind of influence on a judge?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m heading down to the audio-visual room, and I’m going to start watching those tapes from the beginning.”

“That’s seven days’ worth of tapes!” she exclaimed. “You’ll never get through them all by yourself in one night,” she added. “Would you like some help?”

“Delilah, that won’t win you any favors with your employer.”

“I already decided I didn’t want anything to do with an employer who partakes in destroying evidence. I quit my job two weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry, Delilah,” Hutch said. “But if you’re willing, I could use your help, and I’m calling a few more friends to come down and help too.”

“Wait, hold on,” Starsky interjected. “You watched seven days’ worth of tapes in one night?”

“Mostly,” Hutch said. “Me, Delilah, Huggy, Dobey, and Danny Walters – five of us in total. All the video cassette recorders have never been so well used at one time.”

Starsky felt a swell of pride welling up inside him as he listened to Hutch, his unwavering dedication on full display.

“So, what did you find?” Molly asked, eager for answers.

Hutch took a deep breath, continuing his description of events.

“We watched tapes for a few hours, and it seemed like a dead end. Footage of cars and people coming and going, nothing unusual. But then, I saw it.”

“Here!” Hutch said to the others. “This footage was recorded the day after the shooting. The time stamp says midnight. Isn’t that Murphy and Mendoza, at the back of the restaurant again?”

Everyone gathered behind Hutch. The video was dark, taken late at night, but it was undeniably them, their bodies pointed at the camera.

“Oh my God,” Hutch said. “There’s someone else coming down the alley.”

They all leaned closer, squinting to make out the identity of the new arrival, but his back was turned to the camera. The man handed Mendoza an envelope, which he tucked into his pocket.

Then, the man turned around to walk away, his face illuminated by the streetlight.

Hutch exhaled loudly over the speakerphone. “It was Judge Whitfield.”

A stunned silence filled the room.

“Judge Whitfield?” Kiko gasped, breaking the silence. “The same judge who presided over my trial? The one who sentenced me and pushed through my appeals? What does he have to do with Murphy?”

“Yes,” Hutch said, taking a measured breath. “I couldn’t believe it, either. Let me explain…”

“Judge Whitfield!” Hutch exclaimed. “What the hell is he doing there?”

“What’s that?” Delilah said. “It looks like Whitfield handed something to the man with the heavy chains… an envelope of some kind. What’s that all about?”

“I don’t know, but we need to bring Murphy in and get some answers. Pronto!” Dobby shouted. “I don’t care who at Internal Affairs I have to wake up, but we’re doing this by the book and fast!”

“Our captain,” Starsky added, nodding with admiration. “Nothing can stop him when justice is on the line.”

“Things moved fast from there,” Hutch said. “It didn’t take long before we had Murphy in the interrogation room. You should’ve seen his face when he saw the tape of him, Mendoza, and Whitfield together….”

“What the hell?” Murphy gasped as he paled. “Where did you get this?”

Hutch’s eyes narrowed, his fury simmering beneath the surface, but his voice remained unnervingly calm. He sat down across from Murphy, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Inside, the rage burned like a slow, steady fire, but outwardly, he was an impenetrable wall of control.

“What does it matter where it came from, Murphy?” Hutch said, each word deliberate. “It’s clear as day. You, on tape, another meeting with Mendoza. There was no ‘shakedown’ happening. No coincidence. You were in bed with him – for who knows how long. And then Whitfield shows up. What I want to know is… what was in the envelope Whitfield handed to Mendoza?”

Murphy trembled, his lips quivering, struggling to maintain any semblance of composure. “I have no idea,” he stammered, eyes darting around the room.

Hutch’s expression hardened, his jaw tight as he leaned in. “Don’t even think about lying, Murphy.” Hutch’s voice was like steel. “Tell me. Now. What was in the envelope?”

Sweat dotted Murphy’s forehead as his shoulders slumped in defeat, resignation in his eyes. “It was a payoff. One of many,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “Mendoza was blackmailing the judge. Threatening to expose his son’s addiction.”

Hutch’s face grew colder, but his composure never faltered. He pressed on, a quiet fury simmering beneath the calm exterior. “You know Kiko Ramos didn’t kill anybody that night. Was it Jose Garcia? Tell me. Who pulled the trigger? Who killed your partner?”

Murphy’s face crumpled, his body trembling.

“I’m going to give you one more chance,” Hutch said. “Now answer my question. Who pulled the trigger that night?”

“I did it!” Murphy gasped, the words spilling out as guilt flooded his face.

Hutch’s nostrils flared, a surge of anger burning through him, but he didn’t let it show. He leaned back in his chair, his mind already processing the next steps. There was no time to waste.

“Murphy signed the confession without another word,” Hutch announced. “Dobey immediately moved to issue a warrant for Angelo Mendoza. Mendoza and Murphy are both in custody, held without bail. It’s over—for both of them.”

“If you ask me,” Starsky said quietly, listening to Hutch with a mixture of respect and awe, “Murphy had been on the edge for months. It was just a matter of time before he cracked.”

“Yes,” Hutch agreed. “And the tapes – those were the nail in the coffin.”

Hutch continued. “Murphy admitted he argued with Carpenter that night. Tried to convince him to join the action, but Carpenter refused, threatening to turn him in. When Mendoza found out, he told Murphy to take care of it. Then, when Kiko came out of the restaurant, Mendoza was convinced that Kiko had overheard their conversation, and he didn’t want to take any chances. He ordered Murphy to take care of Carpenter and the ‘busboy’ at the same time. He used Jose Garcia to make it happen.”

Danny Walters chimed in, “Mendoza was blackmailing Judge Whitfield,” Danny said. “Threatening to tell the public about his son’s addiction. Extorting money to buy his silence. Whitfield knew that if the truth came out, his career and his reputation would be destroyed. That’s how everything during the trial happened so fast. Whitfield wanted the trial gone—he figured framing a Hispanic teen would be easy, and sadly, he wasn’t wrong. The public ate it up.”

“That hypocrite,” Starsky said, a shiver running down his spine. “A judge, acting all high and mighty, yet he was an even bigger part of the problem than the criminals!”

“I know, it makes me sick to my stomach too,” Hutch agreed. There was a brief period of silence as Hutch appeared to catch his breath.

“We know Jose wasn’t exactly innocent, but he was a pawn,” Hutch said. “He was told to challenge the Cobras to a fight and to pressure Kiko into participating – to give Kiko no option but to shoot in self-defense.” Hutch paused, his voice breaking, “Murphy, the low-life, he intended on Carpenter, his own partner, getting caught in the crossfire. But it went sour when Kiko didn’t play along and threw the weapon in the bushes. Murphy panicked, and like I said, handled everything himself.”

“Man, that’s evil,” Molly said. “A cop kills his partner and frames an innocent person for it.”

“I know, Molly,” Hutch said, clearing his throat. “Unfortunately, there’s more. Murphy admitted to cutting the brake line on Jose’s car. Driving into that telephone pole was no accident.”

Danny Walters spoke up, “As soon as Murphy admitted to what he had done, we rushed the signed confession over to the District Attorney, who then contacted the Governor’s office.”

“Not a moment too soon,” Molly said quietly.

Starsky could feel the anger building, the injustice of it all rising to the surface. “So Judge Whitfield’s been arrested too?”

The sound of the speakerphone crackling couldn’t cover the strain in Hutch’s voice.

“Yes,” Hutch answered. “Judge Whitfield was arrested this morning, screaming bloody murder, but just wait until it all comes out. It will get very ugly once he realizes Murphy turned him in, and that copies of the tapes still exist and prove everything.”

“It was close, ” Kiko said, clearly still processing it all. “So close.”

“I know,” Hutch said. “I’m sorry, Kiko. I truly am.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Kiko assured him. “I mean that.” He looked at the warden. “So I’ll be free to go? Is it that simple?”

The warden nodded at the young man in his charge. “The Governor has exonerated you,” he confirmed. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, but it’s true. No doubt he needed to expedite your freedom now that he knows there was a crooked judge, pulling the strings, on his watch.”

Walters came back on the phone, announcing, “We are expediting the paperwork. The faster we get that to the warden’s desk, the faster you’ll be on your way, Kiko.”

“Leave Mr. Ramos in a guarded office until his release,” Caledon nodded, standing up. “If the paperwork is on my desk today, I’ll sign it.”

“We’ll see you soon, Kiko,” Hutch said. Starsky could practically see his beaming smile. “And Starsky?”

“Yeah?” Starsky replied.

“I left some paperwork for you,” Hutch teased. “Dobey’s going to want a full report in the morning.”

Starsky grinned, his heart swelling with relief at Hutch’s familiar banter, a sign that things were returning to normal.

“See you soon, partner,” Starsky beamed.

Starsky heard the telephone click and stood up, his legs shaky. He extended his hand to Kiko, who took it. However, Kiko pulled Starsky into a strong embrace instead of a handshake, his grip filled with gratitude.

“Let’s get you home, Kiko,” Starsky said. “I know someone who will be anxious to see you in person.”

Chapter 17

There was a knock at the door. Starsky looked up from his spot at Hutch’s kitchen table, where he was reading the newspaper, and next to him, Hutch was nursing a cup of coffee, the steam curling up in the air.

Hutch was the first to get up and head toward the door. Starsky watched him, his stride so strong, so sure, so composed, so back to the Hutch he knew. It had been six months since Kiko’s release, and life had settled into a new normal. It was like their relationship was crystal clear; there would be nothing that could stand in their way.

The door swung open, and Kiko stood there. He entered the apartment, taller than Starsky remembered, with a bright spark in his eyes. It was hard to imagine that not long ago, that same spark had been so unjustly buried.

“Kiko!” Hutch’s voice was full of warmth as he reached out to hug him. Starsky stayed in his seat for a moment, just watching, a small grin forming.

“Hey, Starsky,” Kiko said, greeting him with a smile.

Starsky stood and crossed the room, his hand extending to Kiko. “Good to see you, kid.”

Kiko shook Starsky’s hand firmly. “Good to see you too. I’ve got something to share.”

Hutch invited everyone to sit at the table, expectant eyes lingering on Kiko. Six months ago, Kiko had been living a nightmare. Now, he was here, about to tell them something that Starsky could only guess.

“Danny Walters really came through,” Kiko said with a smile. “We won the lawsuit against the state. I was awarded a sizable settlement as restitution for my wrongful conviction, for the court system’s failure to provide me a fair trial and appeal, and for the pain and suffering it caused me and my family. Walters said it was a first-of-its-kind settlement. It’s more money than I could have ever imagined,” Kiko said. “Walters took a fair fee from it, and the rest was awarded directly to me.”

Hutch reached over and patted Kiko on the arm. “That’s wonderful news, Kiko. It doesn’t make up for what happened to you, nothing ever will, but at least it’s something. You deserve a fresh start.”

“Thanks, Hutch. I bought my mom a house,” he said, the words falling out like they were nothing, but Starsky could hear the pride in his words.

Hutch’s jaw dropped. “A house?” he echoed. “That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah,” Kiko nodded. “In the hills. She’s always dreamed of living there, and she doesn’t have to work another day if she doesn’t want to.”

“That’s amazing, kid,” Starsky said, filled with admiration. “You’re a good son.”

Kiko’s voice grew tender as he spoke of his sister, “I also gave Molly enough money to pay for college. She’s going to do great things, I just know it,” he said with pride.

Starsky couldn’t help but smile at that. “Sounds like you’re making sure everyone around you gets a shot at something better.”

“I’m trying,” Kiko said. “It’s not just about me. The people around me went through hell, too.”

“They love you,” Starsky agreed. “What about you, Kiko? What’s next for you?”

Kiko adjusted his posture, collecting his thoughts. “I’m grateful to have the money, but I want to do something with my life. I’m going to college, then, if I get accepted, I want to go to law school. I want to fight for people like me – people from underprivileged communities who may not get a fair shot. I was lucky you found a good lawyer for me, Hutch, but most people aren’t that lucky. I want to make sure innocent people don’t end up where I was. I want the chance to make sure they get a fair trial.”

“That’s a hell of a plan, Kiko,” Hutch said.

Kiko turned to Hutch, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a folded envelope and slid it across the table to him.

Hutch glanced down at it, confused for just a second. “What’s this?”

Kiko’s eyes didn’t leave him. “Open it, Hutch.”

Hutch glanced at Starsky with a curious shrug and slid his finger across the envelope as he pulled out a check. He held it out and let Starsky see the amount, staring at the number for a long moment, his mouth falling open in shock.

“This is more money than I earn in ten years,” Hutch whispered, looking up at Kiko. “I can’t accept this, Kiko. It’s your money, you went through hell, and you deserve to keep it.”

“No,” Kiko insisted. “You saved me, Hutch. I probably would have still been shoplifting, or worse, would have followed my friends into gangs if it wasn’t for you and your guidance all these years. And most importantly,” he swallowed visibility, “I wouldn’t be alive right now to thank you for that. If it weren’t for you and Starsky, I wouldn’t be here. You fought for me when no one else did. You gave me a chance. Please, just take it.”

Hutch opened his mouth to protest, but Kiko held up a hand and looked at Starsky, “It’s for both of you. Please, don’t let him deny me this honor of giving back to you both.”

Starsky watched the exchange. He couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to be locked up like Kiko was, accused of a crime he didn’t commit, and to have been forced to face death at such a young age. Now, suddenly, to have the ability to give back to the people who helped him, Starsky knew that mattered more than anything to Kiko’s healing.

Starsky looked at Hutch and nodded his approval.

“I don’t know what to say,” Hutch finally murmured.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Kiko said with a smile. “I wanted to,” he insisted. “It’s for both of you. I know you’re more than just police partners,” Kiko’s cheeks turned pink. “I’ve seen the love between you two for a long time, don’t even try to deny it.”

Starsky froze, unable to hide his surprise at Kiko’s discovery. It was Hutch who spoke up.

“Our relationship is fairly new, Kiko,” Hutch said shyly. “But you’re right. I won’t deny it. I love Starsky with all my heart. If you say I saved you, then I will say Starsky saved me first.” He looked into Starsky’s eyes. “So we’re both here because of him. If Starsky wants to, we’ll talk about what to do with the money, together.”

Starsky blinked, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced at Hutch, who was looking at him with a knowing smile. He lowered his head, turning to Kiko. “What Hutch said,” he nodded at his partner, “but in reverse,” he added, a smile stretching across his face. “You’re gonna do great things, Kiko.”

Kiko beamed back at him. “I’m just getting started.”

Starsky smiled widely, realizing Kiko’s future was full of promise, and maybe, just maybe, he had a chance to make a difference in the world.

It was everything Hutch had ever hoped for from the beginning.

*****

Starsky thought sleeping in Hutch’s arms every night was the ultimate reward.

Many times, their lovemaking was intense, serving as a vehicle for escape. There was no shame in that, as far as Starsky was concerned. It was more liberating, more freeing than mere words could ever express.

Hutch had told him months ago he had burned the template; the well-defined way things were supposed to be, where life’s choices are handed to you like a fixed menu, with no chance for input into what those choices were. A person could function, get by, and by some people’s definition succeed, but ultimately, if you’re not careful, it could weigh you down to the point where you don’t see what else is even possible.

Whether it took Gunther or Kiko’s terrible situation, or any other number of difficult times to wake them both up, Starsky only felt grateful that they finally did. He pulled Hutch on top of him, stroking his cheek, trailing his fingers down to Hutch’s heaving chest.

“I want you tonight,” Hutch said, his eyes pleading with desire. “Inside me, please. I want to give you everything I have.”

Starsky would never deny Hutch what he needed. “Hutch, you’ve given that gift many times. Not that I’m complaining,” he said, feeling devilish. “But what’s different for you tonight?”

Hutch smiled, kissing Starsky’s neck. “Tonight, I feel so grateful, I guess. You reminded me once that we can’t stop bad things from happening. But that doesn’t mean we should postpone our lives. That should mean we lean into the good things even more.”

Hutch rolled over onto his stomach and pulled a pillow under his chin. Starsky sat back, spreading Hutch’s legs apart, and kneeling between them. He spent several minutes massaging him, moving his lubricated fingers over Hutch’s opening, exhilarated by the moans escaping from Hutch’s lips. He balanced one hand above Hutch’s shoulder and mounted him, raising Hutch’s hips higher to allow a slick and smooth entrance into Hutch’s welcoming body.

They moved together as one, like conjoined souls, and Starsky felt like this time was not only different, it was life-altering. Like a switch had been pulled, lovemaking could be a culmination of pleasure and love more than an escape from heartache and pain.

That night, they made love in celebration – a tribute to their resilience, refusing to let anything break them: not Gunther, the corrupt judge, or the crooked cop. Not the broken judicial system, or the outcries of those who blindly believed headlines over the truth.

It was about love, moments of give and take in equal measure, merged in perfect balance.

Starsky felt a warm rush throughout his body, and he fell against Hutch, knowing his purpose in life was to simply lie next to him, collapsed in his loving arms.

EPILOGUE

FOUR YEARS LATER

Starsky brushed off the lint from Hutch’s blazer as they made their way across the grassy expanse of the university lawn. The warmth of the sun, combined with the excitement in the air, made the day feel even more special.

“Hey,” Hutch said, flashing a smile. “I see Rosa and Molly. And there’s Dobey and his wife, and Huggy and Danny Walters, too. Let’s go join them.”

Side by side, they walked towards the group, the soft crunch of grass beneath their feet. As they neared their destination, Starsky saw a familiar face cutting through the crowd. “Hey, Hutch,” he said, pausing for a moment, “Isn’t that Delilah?”

Sure enough, Delilah was approaching them. She was holding the hand of a man with dark hair, dressed in a sharp houndstooth jacket and loafers, a confident yet approachable look about him.

“Delilah!” Hutch exclaimed. He moved to greet her with open arms. “So good to see you.”

Delilah planted a quick kiss on his cheek, then turned to Starsky with a warm smile. “Hutch,” she said, her voice full of affection, “and Starsky. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Kiko was kind enough to send me an invitation. I wanted to be here to wish him well.”

Starsky smiled, nodding. “He’ll be thrilled to see you. He’s never forgotten the role you played in helping him.”

Delilah’s cheeks flushed with modesty. “I’m happy to have played a small part in his journey.” She turned toward the man beside her. “This is my husband, Trevor,” she said with a proud smile.

Trevor stepped forward, extending his hand to shake theirs, his grip firm yet friendly.

“Trevor teaches at the same school I do,” Delilah continued. “I’m so glad I walked away from banking. I not only found a career as a teacher, something I love,” she glanced at her husband, “but I also found the love of my life.”

She placed a gentle hand on her rounded belly, glowing with obvious excitement. “I’m due in a few months,” she laughed. “A lot’s happened since I last saw you two.”

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” Hutch said warmly, his arm slipping around Starsky’s shoulders. “A lot has happened for us, too. We’ve got a house now, and we can see the ocean. We love the view there. And, we’re both Lieutenants now. We’ve also been doing volunteer investigative work for public defenders.” He looked over at Starsky, who smiled back. “Starsky came up with the idea. One day, we’re going to open our own investigative agency—help victims of the system who need it most.”

Delilah grinned, clearly impressed. “You two never cease to amaze me. Come on,” she coaxed. “Let’s find our seats.”

Starsky placed his hand gently on Hutch’s back, letting him take the lead as they walked toward their spots. “Sounds like Delilah tore up her template, too,” he said, his fingers grazing Hutch’s arm.

Hutch turned to him, “Yeah,” he said knowingly. “Good for her.”

“You have that effect on people, Hutch,” Starsky said, teasing but sincere.

He watched Hutch’s cheeks turn a slight shade of pink, and Starsky’s heart flipped over just as it did that night years ago when the sprinklers went off.

The crowd was beginning to settle, and soon, they reached their seats, and Rosa, Molly, and the others greeted them with excited smiles. The university graduates began filing in, music swelling around them, as the students took their seats.

Kiko Ramos, a young man of twenty-three years old, looking sharp and confident in his blue cap and gown, walked up on stage and made his way to the podium.

A quiet hush fell over the crowd.

“I am truly honored to have been chosen as the valedictorian for this year’s graduating class,” Kiko’s voice wavered as he spoke, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“I want to express my gratitude to all the incredible professors who’ve shared their wisdom, the knowledge I’ve gained, and the friendships I’ve made. I also want to take a moment to say something a bit more personal. I want to thank the people in my life who’ve made this day possible. Without them, I wouldn’t have had the chance to even set foot in college. And now, here I am, preparing to attend Harvard Law School. I am truly blessed and closer than ever to fulfilling my dream of helping underprivileged members of our community who find themselves in need of legal aid.”

“Harvard?” Starsky whispered to Hutch. “Pretty impressive. Did you know about that?”

“He told me yesterday,” Hutch said, clearly swelling with pride. “He wanted it to be a surprise.”

Starsky saw the warm glow spread across Hutch’s face. He turned his attention back to Kiko and was transported back to that day – four years ago -when Kiko had stood before a much smaller crowd, under vastly different circumstances. Kiko showed immeasurable strength that day, and despite nearly losing his life, chose comforting last words to his loved ones. Today, Kiko was no longer the vulnerable young man at the mercy of other people’s power, but a determined individual who’d dealt with those hardships, more than most people would face in a lifetime, emerging even stronger.

Kiko squinted at the sea of people before him, his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd.

“Mom,” Kiko said, his voice thick with emotion. “I want you to know I love you, and I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I hope I’ve made you proud.”

Starsky heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by the unmistakable sound of Rosa Ramos holding back tears of joy. She clutched her hand to her mouth, clearly overcome by the moment.

“Molly,” Kiko said with a bright smile. “My sister. I always knew you’d do amazing things. And for the record,” he paused to address the crowd with a chuckle. “My sister is heading to medical school to become a doctor. And I thought she was tough to live with before!”

The crowd erupted into laughter, the mood lighter as Kiko smiled with pride, his sister Molly blowing a playful kiss his way from the crowd.

“Captain Dobey, Huggy, Delilah, Danny Walters, all of you, and all the others who helped get me through that terrible time. I will never forget your support. Thank you.”

Kiko turned to Starsky, “David Starsky,” he said, “I want you to know how much I value your friendship. You’ve been there for me, through thick and thin, and I will never forget your kindness and generosity and what you’ve done for me. Thank you.”

Starsky felt a warm hand gently squeeze his thigh, and he smiled at Kiko. His eyes slid to Hutch, and he was rewarded with a smile that felt more radiant than the afternoon sun.

“And lastly, to Ken Hutchinson,” Kiko’s tone grew more heartfelt. “Hutch. You were more than a Big Brother. You were a father, and always will be. You took me in when I was ten, and you didn’t just stay for a little while. You’ve been there through all of my adolescence, through the toughest of times. You never gave up on me. I wouldn’t be here without you. That’s an indisputable fact.”

Hutch’s hand rested on Starsky’s thigh. Moved by Kiko’s words, Starsky placed his hand over Hutch’s, gripping it snugly. As Kiko spoke, he looked at Hutch, his heart swelling with affection.

“You see,” Kiko continued, his gaze sweeping across the audience, “I know many of you know my story. Some of you have heard it firsthand from me, while others might’ve heard about it in the media. It doesn’t matter. I will never forget those days, but I am leaving them behind. The one thing I’ve learned from hardship is that no matter how dark the days seem, you never know what brighter days might be just around the corner. So, to all of us graduating today – who came here to learn, to grow, and to better ourselves- remember: it’s up to you to make your future brighter, one day at a time.”

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, and the graduates sprang to their feet, their cheers filling the air. Kiko grinned and threw his cap into the air, the gesture mimicked by hundreds of other graduates. The hats flew upward in unison, their joyous laughter and excitement echoing around the university lawn.

Starsky stood, clapping loudly, with Hutch beside him, matching his enthusiasm.

Hutch smiled at Starsky, glowing with pride.

Leaning over, Starsky shouted in Hutch’s ear, “You did good, Hutch. You did real good.”

“You mean we did good,” Hutch corrected with a chuckle. “And don’t you forget it.”

As the applause continued to rumble, echoing across the grass, Hutch pulled back, his eyes brimming with emotion. “It’s all because you stayed, Starsk.”

Starsky smiled, the roar of the crowd fading into the background as he met his gaze.

“No, Hutch,” he said softly, love filling his heart. “It’s all because you let me.”

END

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

EPILOGUE

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About the Archive

Disclaimer

It’s easy to like a story...

COPYRIGHT © 2026 • ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY CONTRIBUTING WRITERS AND ARTISTS