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have the court records?”
    “It was justice court.” That I actually managed a real laugh at. “There weren’t no transcripts or nothing about what was said.” The judge had been right nice back then, dropping a misdemeanor for public fighting down to an infraction for disturbing the peace. “So don’t worry nothing about it.” I threw every bit of confidence I could muster behind that sentence.
    “Dude.” Like he suspected I weren’t telling him the whole story, Kabe sucked in his breath. “It’s a hearing, what do you mean don’t worry?”
    I couldn’t let him get on that track…’cause if it bugged at him, then he would bug at me and I’d start getting all jumpy. “It’s just to review the discipline I’ve already gotten.” That equaled the honest truth without fudging nothing. “You know, I told you, getting suspended, dropped a grade in pay, lost a year of seniority…all that stuff.”
    “Why do they want to review it…” He shook his head and rolled his eyes to the sky, “and who the fuck are they? ”
    “The Peace Officer Standards and Training Council.” We all—deputies, cops and correction officers—just called it POST for short. Depending on who you were talking to and why, POST could mean the folks who cleared you to start training or the classes we took to keep up our certification or a thousand other things. I gave Kabe the most basic of their jurisdictional functions to explain it to him. “They’re who says if you can enter the academy—you know reviewing records and stuff. They review every administrative discipline in the state.”
    “Why?” I could see him starting to ease up on the suspicion…not by much, but a little.
    “‘Cause Utah is a whole bunch of little tiny departments.” Salt Lake City, State Corrections and the State Troopers numbered in the hundreds of law enforcement personnel. Most other jurisdictions in the State could count the number of sworn officers on both hands. “Ninety percent of them don’t have their own Internal Affairs division to look into officers that might have had issues…so the State created the POST Council.” Back in ‘83, POST and the State realized a lot of stuff got swept under the carpet at small departments, so they went on and created the Council. Sorta the State’s way of double checking things. “If I got a ticket for speeding, POST would look into it. Since it all got kinda messy, with Ramon being so hateful about, you know, us and what that means, I’m sure they just want to get the story straight.”
    Kabe stared over my shoulder for a while, not talking to me. When he did finally meet my eyes, I almost couldn’t look him direct. He chewed on his bottom lip a bit. “You know the last time I was in courtroom, it did not go all that great for me.”
    “Don’t worry none.” There weren’t no reason for him to worry. There couldn’t be no reason for him to worry. I didn’t want him to have to worry. “I’m certain they won’t really need you.” I’d do anything to keep him from having to suffer. “I’ll just tell ‘em what happened, they’ll look at the discipline I got and see it’s pretty fair.” If I admitted it all, basically plead no contest, they shouldn’t need to hear from no one else.
    Defensive, for me not him, Kabe growled, “I don’t think it was fair, it was fucking harsh.”
    “I think it was fair.” Lord knows I could have been fired for it. Lot simpler for everyone in the department if they’d done so…’cept me. “Sheriff Simple thinks it was fair. I screwed up, but I took my medicine.” And I’d do it again. Weren’t right that anyone else take the heat meant for me.
    Kabe kept poking, “Are you sure?”
    “Boy,” I jammed my thumbs through my duty belt and stared him down like I might someone who tried to throw me a line, “why wouldn’t I be sure?”
    After a kick at some ice in the lot, Kabe swallowed and asked, “So this is just a formality?”
    Finally, I