THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #43

43. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 4

Introduction to Characters

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 3
A Real Live Policeman

**Hero Officer Jake Bolan**

Thelma Thomas

The first of the Connecticut Post ‘Hero Officer Jake Bolan’ stories took place just after Dean had entered the first-grade in September of 1986. 

Thelma Thomas had fallen from the step of her front porch after her miniature poodle had darted out in front of her. She’d come down rather hard upon the wooden border that outlined a narrow strip of Jasmine. Next thing Thelma knew, she was staring into the face of her son, and lying in a hospital bed, first floor, Hospital of Central Connecticut. Within a period of three days, Thelma’s mind had deteriorated.  By the end of day one, she had begun to treat otherwise familiar visitors as strangers. By the end of day two, the plastic water container had become her best friend. And by the close of day three, Thelma had begun accusing the doctors and nurses of plotting to kidnap her.

She’d been threatening to plan an escape, and the staff had been alerted of her possible attempt. They were to check on her regularly. It seems that regularly had not proven sufficient. On the morning of the fourth day of her stay, Thelma had crawled out of her bed and had managed to eek past the nurses without being seen. She’d somehow made her way to Spring Lake, six blocks northeast of the Hospital, before anyone had noticed her absence. After feeble attempts to find her had been exhausted by Hospital Security, the Bridgeport Police Department had begun their search. And that’s where Officer Jake Bolan had come onto the scene.  

Bolan had been dispatched and advised of the Thomas situation, all of its dull intricacies and typical details, and though he’d at first been none too happy about it, he’d quickly devised a very possible and advantageous scenario. If he found her, he had thought, he would certainly make the most of the situation. And if he hadn’t, at least he would have made the most of the attempt.  

Bolan had come upon Thelma as he’d been searching Spring Lake, a small body of water surrounded by a very posh community setting, called Spring Lake Village. It had been early—still dark out—and quite brisk.  He had, according to the newspaper report, found her in the freezing-cold lake, hanging on to a buoy for dear life, shivering and moaning. According to the article, Officer Bolan had done a heroic deed, and parents and teachers alike would do well to use his example as a standard for heroism. Had Officer Bolan not jumped in and pulled her to shore, Thelma Thomas certainly would have lost her life that night.

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In truth, this is not exactly what had happened. Knowing that Thelma was suffering from dementia, Jake had known that whatever happened, she had not the mental capacity to be taken seriously, and that opened a myriad of possibilities, all in his favor. So Jake had found Mrs. Thomas at the edge of the lake rather than in the lake, and he’d carefully approached her.  

“Mrs. Thomas?” He’d called out.

She had slowly turned toward him, shivering with cold, and confused. She’d replied, “Oh…oh…oh…I…I…” That was the extent of her communicative abilities.  

“Mrs. Thomas, I’ve come to help you. Please stay right there.”

“I…well I…”  

He’d slowly drawn closer, careful not to frighten her more, “Just stay right there, Mrs. Thomas. You’re safe, now.”

Jake had reached Thelma, and instead of simply walking her back to his car, he had walked her down to the small dock that stretched out into the lake. When they’d finally come to the far end of it, Thelma had looked up at the officer and had finally found enough words to put together a thought, “Those bad…people…kidnappers.”  Then she’d followed this with, “Why…why, you look like my son.” And she’d reached up to touch his face.

Jake had swept her hand aside, smiled cruelly and replied, “That’s right, honey, I’m your son.” And he shoved her into the water.   

He’d waited a few seconds before jumping into the lake. After having dragged her out, soaking wet and shivering like a leaf in the wind, Thelma had by then begun making a low sobbing sound. Jake had said, “Come now, Mrs. Thomas, it isn’t all that bad.” He had managed to get her to her feet. “I’ve saved you, haven’t I?”

Thelma had stared blankly at Jake who had by then determined that it was one of the best strategic moves he had ever made. This was certainly going to get some print, and in the end, he had been certain that the title ‘Officer’ would soon become the title ‘Detective,’ thanks, in part, to a little old lady whose best friend was a Tupperware container.