Fiction

The Lockup

by Gary Ritter
08/28/14
Not For Sale
Author requests article critique

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The door of the jail cell clanged shut after the last man entered the lockup.  He joined the thirteen others accused the previous night of breaking the law.  Some were thieves, some drunks, some crack heads; there was even a rapist among them.  They smelled.  Anger washed over some in waves.  A few held their heads in their hands, hung over and hurting.  They were the lowest of the low: prisoners in one of the largest county jails in the country.  Each man would go before the judge and receive the penalty due him.

Deputy Officer Murray entered the holding area.  The guard charged with security shook his head.  Murray again.  He comes in every morning without fail.  Doesn’t he ever tire of this?

Murray smiled at the guard, handed over his weapon, and approached the lockup.  The lock clicked open and Murray entered the cell.  The men inside slowly turned.  Some glared at Murray.  Others wore expressions of puzzlement.  A couple showed no interest at all.  The mouth of one dropped open; his eyes sparkled.

The officer said, “My name is Deputy Murray.  I want every one of you to know that God loves you.”

As he continued to speak, one man spat at his feet.  Some sat down and gave Murray their full attention.  The face of one glowed.  Whether they wanted to or not, every man heard the Word of God Murray brought to them that day.

When Murray finished, he said, “What I told you may not make much sense right now; for some of you it will, if not today, then at some point.  I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk about Jesus, I’m available.”  With that he left the men to the mercies of the law.

The guard outside joked with Murray on his way out.  “Pastor Murray, you think you can save me?”

Answering seriously, Murray said, “Only if your heart is in the right place.”

With a smirk, the guard handed Murray his weapon and buzzed him through.

On the way back to his office, Murray passed several officers.  Knowing the time of day and his habit, each one responded according to his biases.

“One of these days, Murray, the brass are going to come down on you preaching that God stuff,” Officer MacDonald said.

“You wasting your time again with those losers?” Officer Rhodes asked.

“Holy, holy, holy is Officer Murray Almighty,” said Officer Keegan.

Murray kept his chin up and a smile on his face with each man.  He was used to it.  When he reached his desk he found a note addressed to him from the captain:

“You are no longer permitted to go to the lockup each morning to speak of God.  This is an order.”

A puff of breath escaped his lips.  Murray knew this was coming.  The entire department was hostile to his efforts.  The men he preached to were the enemy.  He was seen as a traitor.  That he had been allowed to bring the Word of God to these men who so desperately needed it for as long as he had was a miracle.  It looked like another miracle was necessary for this to continue.

That Wednesday night was his church’s midweek service.  He brought the issue before those in attendance and asked for prayer.

A couple days later the young man whose face had lit up while Murray was in the cell saw him as he was leaving the county building upon his release.  He stopped Murray and said, “Deputy, I’d heard about you.  That you’re different.  That you bring the love of God even to us who aren’t very lovable.  I just wanted to say: thank you.  It means a lot.  You’ve given me much to consider.”

It wasn’t often that Murray received appreciation from anyone in the county facility.  It made his day.

The following morning he went to the lockup, even as he had every day since receiving his captain’s order.  He knew he must obey God and not man.  Whatever happened would happen.  If he lost his job of twenty-nine years, even his pension, so be it.

Returning to his desk Officer MacDonald said to him, “You hear the news, Murray?  The captain’s been transferred.”

Later that day the new captain called Murray to his office.  “I hear you preach the Word of God to our prisoners.  Keep doing it.  I’m behind you.”

Murray left his office with a whistle on his lips and a spring in his step.