21 Jump Street (Tom Hanson)

Draw the Line

Based on the Episode Draw the Line, and a continuation of Jailbird Tom
September 1989

Tom's POV

I was sitting on the lower bunk bed of my jail cell reading a magazine when I heard the clanking of the sliding metal door to enter the cell block. I was still thinking about Mickey's visit earlier in the day, and wondered what she wanted to tell me. She told me that Booker was going to be the deliverer of the news, which I was not looking forward to.

"Hanson," I heard. I let my eyes leave the glossy page and I looked toward the cell door. There stood a few of the prison guards and he continued, "someone's here for you."

The guard stepped out of the way, and Booker took his place.

I set my magazine down and I slowly got up to my feet. I flexed my nostrils as I approached the door and it slowly slid open. My eyes never left Booker, and as soon as I was physically able, I did exactly what I promised Mickey I would do the next time I saw him.

I punched him in his ugly, smug face.

I was so quick, no one saw it coming. My fist made contact with his nose with a loud thud and he went down like a ton of bricks. Two of the guards rushed to my arms and pinned them to my sides so I couldn't move. I didn't need to, I was satisfied.

The other guard helped Booker to his feet, and he brought his hand up to his bleeding nose and glared at me. They quickly handcuffed my wrists behind my back, and I didn't fight them on it. I refused to say anything to Booker, and we were both escorted to the wardens office.

They put me in the chair across the desk from the warden while Booker was leaning up against the wall with a bloody rag to his nose. My hand was beginning to throb, but I didn't say anything about it.

"Prisoner Hanson, the state has granted wardens the authority to furlough prisoners in special circumstances. I am releasing you to the custody of Officer Booker for a period of 24 hours so that you may attend a funeral," the warden said to me.

I wasn't expecting that at all. My eyebrows furrowed together and my eyes shot directly up to Booker, and he gulped in response.

There was only one person I could think of who this could be about, and that was Ioki. He got shot, and Mickey told me that it was still touch and go at the hospital. I felt a soft tremble in my chest and I licked my lips to try to get rid of my severe dry mouth. This news was devastating, but I was trying to stay strong. I asked, "Harry?"

Booker's voice was soft and compassionate. "Yeah, he, uh—he listed you as next of kin."

I stared off into nothingness as I tried to wrap my mind around that he was really gone. A young, dedicated cop, a member of my team, was dead. A good friend. I sighed and looked down at my lap.

The warden spoke, but I wasn't listening. My mind was still too focused on Ioki. But before I knew it, the handcuffs were taken off my wrists and I walked out of the building with Booker.

They didn't let me change my clothes, so I was still clad in my prison denim blues. I slowly slumped down the stairs of the prison, where Booker's car was waiting right in front.

I slipped into the passengers seat but I was too upset to talk. Booker didn't turn the radio on so we drove in silence. I still couldn't believe it. Ioki's dead.

Booker drove us to Doug's apartment, apartment 326. He said that we were going to have to work together to figure out what really happened the night Buddy got shot and how to prove it. We reached his door and Booker knocked on it and put his hands in his jean pockets.