Sheriff Tate Just Mercy Novels & Stories

If by some miracle Terry slips through the justice system on a technicality, I'll kill him myself. My thoughts turn to my brother Rutherford. Is this how he felt when our brother Andrew was killed by a Mexican drug cartel? I trusted the justice system to take out the men responsible and poured myself into my job when that didn't happen. A touch of understanding enters my consciousness. I'm sworn to uphold the law, but the thought of Terry walking free flips me inside out. I'll go to prison for the rest of my life to make sure it never happens. Saturday afternoon I pack Shelby and Daisy in my truck to head to my parents' house for a barbeque. Santa Fe is an hour away.

Tate continued, "After I came back from hell, she was on the brink of death. She was jumping off the cliff hoping you'd come and save her Art. Luckily I arrived on time and she wished for one thing alone. Lyanna wanted to forget about you completely as if you never existed." "Do you understand? All you've ever done is bring Lyanna pain. She's happier and she's okay, if I must I will- no, I'm already begging you stay away. You shattered her beyond repair, Art. I'd kill you the next time I see you lurking around. Mark my words." Tate added as he left without looking back at me. Why is it that everything he's said is true? Why is it that all I ever did bring Lyanna was pain and suffering?

“My sister stayed at a shelter like that. Ten years ago. After her husband put her in the hospital. If someone like you had done that then, maybe she wouldn’t have had to go back to him twice before she could leave for good.” Elena: “Mercer—” Mercer: “That’s why you’ll win,” he said simply. “Not because of the stocks or the lawyers or the court. Because you’re the only one in this whole mess who remembers what it’s like to have nothing, and you’re doing something about it while everyone else is playing chess with buildings.” Elena looked at him for a long time. Then she looked back out the window. “Don’t tell anyone.” Mercer: “No, ma’am.”

The sheriff didn’t answer, his gaze remote as he grappled with the impossible weight of his choices; he had to act, but every decision came with a price, and Fred’s life was hanging by a thread. Fred's face etched with conflicted determination, the sheriff put a firm hand on his shivering shoulder. “Even though I'm still upset with you, Fred, I don't want you dead”. "Despite the storm raging inside of him, I'll do my best," he vowed firmly. Fred was so paralyzed by terror that he hardly nodded. He muttered, "Thank you," hardly audible, staring at his phone as though it could blow up in his hands. He remained motionless, a statue of fear, as the sheriff focused on the next direct danger.

DAMIEN POV We pull up to the low brick building on Whitehead Street. The parking lot is nearly empty. A single cruiser sits under the glow of a streetlamp. Marcus parks in the shadows. I step out and walk straight to the side entrance. The night desk sergeant looks up, recognizes me, and suddenly finds his keyboard fascinating. He does not speak, just buzzes the door open. Sheriff Harlan Tate waits in his office at the end of the hall. The door is half open and light spills out from a desk lamp, casting long shadows across the worn linoleum. I push the door wider and step inside without knocking.

Sheriff Gilbert grinned. Passing between the emergency vehicles and the coroner’s van, the two men arrived outside cabin number 13. Sheriff Tanner stepped into the motel room, his gaze sweeping across the scene, his expression expertly concealing any emotion. Wayne and Carol’s lifeless bodies were sprawled on the bed, Sheriff Tanner positioned himself beside the bed, hands in his pockets, peering down at the deceased man’s face. “Yep, that’s Wayne Knight, alright, or at least it was,” he remarked, he allowed a smug smile to play across his face as a sense of satisfaction began to rise within him. The discovery of the two bodies in a location far from Valley Mills was like a stroke of genius.

“It’s done. You think locking yourself in here will change what happened?” “You killed him.” My voice cracked as the tears fell more freely. “You killed everything.” “I didn’t.” My ears perked up, a little bit of relief flooding through me. “You didn’t?” I didn’t let it slip through my voice though. “I spared his life,” he said. “He’s alive because I let him be.” I turned then, meeting his gaze. “You call that mercy? You had him beaten, humiliated, and nearly shot in front of me. How is that mercy?”

She had lost an alarming amount of weight because of her illness. "I'll protect you this time, Mom," I murmured as I held her hand. I activated the tenfold transfer system, setting Bianca as the target. "I'll consider the seven million dollars that you stole from me as payment for your life, Bianca," I thought to myself.

…Tyler POV… My mind does not be in the present. I thought that I have escaped the demons in my head, but the moment I read those very words, “Texas Showdown.” Well, it started to haunt me once again. I do not want to be around things that remind me of the monster whose life I have taken. Why, even though by some law I am allowed to, but why should I be given the right to chose if someone dies. I do not become the Sheriff to gun people down, I became one because I loved to care for and protect the people of that town.

“Me for him. Let Tate go.” The Architect smiled, a cold, calculated expression that didn’t reach his eyes. He was younger than I expected—sharp features, tailored coat despite the grimy surroundings. “The rookie goalie for the backup. Acceptable. You’ve caused me more trouble than you’re worth, but this ends tonight.” Tate was released with rough shoves. He stumbled toward us, legs unsteady. Beck moved in quickly to support him, guiding him toward the exit while Merrick covered their retreat with steady aim. Relief flooded me seeing Tate safe, but it was short-lived.