Chapter 318 – Jimmy's in Trouble
Since childhood, we've all been taught the same thing: If you're in trouble, go find a police officer.
Of course, that lesson doesn't apply equally to everyone.
For many Black families, the advice sounds very different: Stay as far away from the police as you can. And if you can't avoid them, comply—completely. Whatever they ask, do it. No matter what.
Because a cop's gun isn't a toy. And sometimes, it only takes one wrong move to get yourself a one-way ticket—straight to heaven or hell.
Frank didn't know what was going on outside, and he didn't dare make any rash moves. So the only option left was the most ironic one of all—call the cops.
Fortunately, he did know a few officers personally. One of them was Officer Tony.
It was worth mentioning that Tony's live-in girlfriend—an actress—had recently wrapped up her contract. Her "job" was finished.
Which meant Tony was single again.
Whether it had been a mutual breakup or a one-sided dumping, no one really knew.
Tony was undeniably handsome—tall, well-built, sharp features, clean-cut. A good-looking guy. On top of that, he was a police officer, a government employee with job security. On paper, he was what people might call "marriage material."
But the actress he'd been seeing clearly hadn't developed real feelings during their time together.
When her contract ended, she didn't hesitate. She broke up with Tony, pocketed her generous paycheck, went back to acting school—and then headed off to chase her Hollywood dream.
She was determined to become a big star.
There was no way she was going to hang herself on the tree that was Officer Tony—even if he was attractive and ticked all her aesthetic boxes.
In the end, a small-time cop from the South Side simply couldn't match the future she envisioned.
The saddest part?
Tony never realized it had all been a setup from the beginning. He'd genuinely believed it was real—and he'd been heartbroken for a while after she left.
But something had changed in him.
After the actress moved on and he returned to single life, Tony didn't go back to chasing Fiona like he used to. He was no longer the naïve, lovestruck young man he once had been.
He'd grown up.
He'd hardened.
He'd become a man.
Overall, Frank's money hadn't been wasted. He'd achieved exactly what he intended.
He had asked Officer Tony to come by and take a look at the two suspicious vehicles parked outside.
It didn't take long before Tony showed up in his patrol car and pulled over by the curb.
Standing by the window, Frank angled himself carefully, watching everything unfold outside.
Under his gaze, Tony walked up to one of the SUVs and knocked on the driver's side window. The glass rolled down halfway.
They exchanged a few words. Someone inside handed over identification. Tony examined the documents, returned them, said a few more things, then headed back to his patrol car.
Moments later, both SUVs started their engines and drove away.
Frank's phone rang.
"Well?" Frank asked as he answered.
"Nothing concrete," Tony replied.
Their identities checked out. Tony had no grounds to detain them, let alone arrest them. After all, they were white—not Black.
Even if Tony pressed them about why they'd been parked there, they could easily brush him off with some excuse.
Pulling over on the side of the road? Perfectly legal.
Tired from driving and stopping to rest? Also legal.
What was a cop supposed to say—You're not allowed to rest here?
So even if Tony suspected something, there was nothing he could do. They hadn't committed a crime.
In the end, he still couldn't determine why they'd been staking out Frank's house.
One thing Tony could confirm, though: they weren't affiliated with any local gangs.
As the assigned officer for the South Side, Tony knew the local crews well. He would've recognized them.
Whoever they were, they didn't seem interested in escalating things. After Tony's brief questioning, they'd chosen to leave.
But less than half an hour after Tony drove off—
The two SUVs returned.
They parked in the exact same spots.
Frank frowned.
"Be careful these next few days," he warned the kids during dinner that night.
If the police couldn't do anything, then Frank would consider using Heisenberg's influence.
All he had to do was put word out in Heisenberg's name. Plenty of gangs would gladly lend a hand—anything to build goodwill. The money "Blue Angel" was generating made everyone's eyes turn red with envy.
But doing that would increase the risk of exposure.
Still, for his kids' safety, Frank was willing to take that risk.
However, after observing the situation more closely, Frank realized something.
The people outside didn't seem interested in the kids at all.
The children came and went as usual—no reaction from the SUVs.
Until Jimmy left the house to go grocery shopping.
That's when both vehicles started up.
"The target is Jimmy," Frank muttered, immediately understanding.
Because once Jimmy left, both SUVs followed him. They didn't leave one behind to keep watching the house.
Which meant the real target had always been Jimmy.
"So it's your mess," Frank muttered irritably, feeling a strange sense of relief.
He'd never liked Jimmy. The fact that these people had been lurking outside for days—making him paranoid—only deepened his annoyance.
But then—
Jimmy didn't come back.
A quick grocery run should've taken thirty minutes at most.
Frank checked the time.
Hours had passed.
Thinking about the two suspicious SUVs that had followed Jimmy earlier, Frank's brows knit tightly together.
"Damn it… If it weren't for Fiona, I wouldn't care whether you lived or died," Frank muttered as he grabbed his cane and pushed himself up from the couch.
He didn't like Jimmy. Couldn't stand him, really.
But Fiona loved him.
If something happened to Jimmy, she might not fall apart dramatically—but she would be deeply hurt.
Before leaving, Frank called Sammi.
"Sammi, I'm heading out to look for Jimmy. Come back and keep an eye on Liam."
After leaving the house, Frank headed toward the supermarket and asked one of the employees if they'd seen Jimmy.
He didn't call the police right away.
In the South Side, you avoided calling cops whenever possible. Earlier, asking Tony for help had been off the record—not an official report.
Frank wanted to check things out himself first.
According to the store clerk, Jimmy had finished shopping and walked out of the supermarket.
Then he suddenly saw something—and bolted.
He hadn't made it more than a few steps before a car screeched to a halt in front of him. Several large men jumped out, tackled him to the ground. One of them—who looked like the leader—said something to Jimmy.
Then they dragged him into the vehicle.
The cars sped off.
In most places, something like that would've triggered immediate calls to the police.
But this was the South Side.
Gangs were everywhere. Incidents like this weren't rare.
People followed one rule: Mind your own business.
Nobody called the cops. They just watched, whispered about which unlucky bastard had angered the wrong crew, and went on with their day.
That was the South Side way.