Garrett Steel is an ex-Memphis cop and a friend of Carson Reno.  Garrett Steel is also a drunk. However, three years ago things were different – very different. Garrett Steel was the number one cop in the city’s Second Precinct, and a big pain in the ass for the Memphis Mafia.  Relentlessly, he followed their every move, and was single-handedly costing Steve Carrollton and his crew thousands of dollars on a daily basis.  But, Garrett Steel was walking on dangerous ground, and he knew it. Garrett Steel was an honest cop and a good cop – those qualities cost him his job and a whole lot more.

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     Over a few beers in a sleazy Beale Street bar, one of his trusted informants told Garrett Steel about a planned meeting between Steve Carrollton and one of the kingpins in the elaborate Mafia network -- Tony Scarsetti.  The meeting was scheduled to take place at an empty warehouse on South Front Street, and during this meeting, some serious money would be changing hands. The money was a payoff from the Memphis Mafia to the East Coast Family and represented thousands of dollars generated by local illegal activities.  This was exactly the kind of information Garrett Steel wanted, and he saw this as his chance to bust a big hole in the Memphis Mafia’s operation.  If he could catch Steve Carrollton and Tony Scarsetti exchanging money, then maybe the Memphis District Attorney’s Office would finally listen to him and take some action. But, Garrett needed proof -- some genuine proof.  Up to now the DA had refused to take any real action against Carrollton, and Garrett was getting frustrated.  Maybe, just maybe, this would be what he needed.  
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     Located on a dark stretch of South Front Street, and high on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, is a stretch of vacant warehouses that were once used to store cotton.  Those days are past, and now most cotton was sold through the Exchange before it ever left the field.  It went from the field, to the cotton gin and then to its predetermined destination – avoiding expensive warehousing and storage.  Now only a small portion of the cotton brought through the Memphis market traveled via the river, with the majority being transported by truck or rail to the mills.
     This left dozens of empty, rotting and shabby buildings in this dismal area of Southwest Memphis - now used only by the homeless, the drug dealers and the rats – both the four and two-legged kind!
     Near the end of one of these rows of warehouses was a two-story brick and wood building with the name D.H. Overmyer showing in faded white letters along one wall. The windows, what few remained, had long ago been painted over – to keep the light and heat away from the stored cotton.  The rest had suffered the fate of some vandal’s rock, or just some kids testing their pitching skills.
     It was in this warehouse, according to Garrett’s informant, that Carrollton and Scarsetti would be meeting.  It was scheduled for 10:00 PM, and they would only be together for fifteen minutes -- maximum.  Garrett’s window of time was small, so he arrived early – he didn’t intend on missing any part of their rendezvous.
     Hiding on a side street in his unmarked car, Garrett staked out the warehouse and waited, and waited, and waited. The scheduled meeting never happened.
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     What DID happen was MoMo Murphy and Jimmy ‘clean hands’ Sweeny.  
     At 11:00 PM Garrett was tired of sitting and decided to leave his car and check out the inside of the warehouse – he didn’t get far.  Only a few steps up the sidewalk, Sweeny appeared from a dark doorway and stuck his automatic in Garrett’s ribs.  Before he could react, MoMo Murphy walked up from behind, hit him at the base of his neck, and Garrett folded down to the concrete like a cheap suit.
     While MoMo’s huge arms drug Garrett’s limp body back to the car, Sweeny stuck a syringe in Garrett Steel’s arm -- putting a small amount of heroin in his bloodstream.  Not a lot of drug, just enough to make him sleep for an hour.
     After laying Garrett across the front seat of the unmarked police car, MoMo poured whiskey down his throat – deliberately spilling some in the car and on Garrett’s clothes, then throwing the empty bottle to the floorboard. They put a roll of hundred dollar bills in Garrett’s pocket, and stuffed several bags of cocaine in the trunk of his car, before quietly walking away and disappearing into the darkness.
      From a phone booth on nearby Second Street, MoMo called the Memphis Police Department and then Mr. Irwin Clark - crime reporter for the Commercial Appeal.
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     Irwin Clark and Garrett Steel didn’t get along. They’d had their share of troubles in the past and the Mafia was well aware of their feud. They also knew that Irwin Clark would give his right arm to break a story about a ‘dirty’ Memphis cop.  Irwin Clark was going to keep his arm and still get his wish, at Garrett Steel’s expense.
     The ‘anonymous’ tip to the police reported a drug deal going down at the D.H. Overmyer Warehouse on Front Street.  The tip to the Commercial Appeal did the same, but also mentioned that a Memphis policeman was involved. A cruiser was dispatched to investigate, and they arrived just a moment before Irwin Clark.  However, what everyone found at the site wasn’t a drug deal, but a drunk parked on the side of the street and passed out in the front seat of an unmarked police car.  What they found was Garrett Steel - apparently drunk, with a lot of drugs and a lot of cash in his car.  Despite his loud protest about being framed, Garrett was arrested and Irwin Clark got some great photographs – front-page stuff. Garrett Steel’s career was over, and the Memphis Mafia went back to their normal operations – without his interference.  Their plan had worked perfectly.
     Garrett’s arrest, trial and dismissal from the police force went quickly; but it was well publicized by all the Memphis and national media.  Pictures of him being handcuffed and the discovery of the drugs and money immediately hit the wire service; within hours his face was on the front page of every newspaper in the country.  Crooked cops make big headlines, and always turned the public’s focus away from where it belonged.  Steve Carrollton and the Memphis Mafia were benefiting from the refocused public attention and the absence of Garrett Steel’s nose in their business. Life was good again for the bad guys.
     Jack Logan handled the short and nasty trial. He wasn’t successful in saving Garrett’s job, but he was able to keep him out of jail.
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     Garrett Steel is married to the former Connie Brasfield of Humboldt, Tennessee.  I don’t recall how they met and I didn’t know Connie before their marriage, but I did know her family. They are good people.  I was first introduced to Connie at their wedding – which was almost eight years ago.  Garrett and I worked together on a number of occasions while he was with the police force, and we remained close friends – even through the trial, the embarrassment and the humiliation of being fired from the Memphis Police Department.
     After the trial, Garrett and Connie took their belongings, their only child, Jason, and hurriedly left Memphis.  They moved in with Connie’s parents in Humboldt, who welcomed having their daughter, son-in-law and grandson into their home; unfortunately that welcome didn’t last long.
     Garrett briefly looked for work, and even talked to Humboldt Police Chief Raymond Griggs about a job.  But, that went nowhere and Garrett was spending most of his time hanging out at C C’s poolroom and other joints around Humboldt.  He and Connie drifted further and further apart, and his constant drinking made that distance even wider.  Garrett Steel had fallen hard and he didn’t bounce when he hit bottom.  Garrett Steel was there to stay.
     Eventually, the pressure became too much on the Brasfield family, and Garrett was asked to leave.  He and Connie separated and she tried to move on with her life, but Garrett wouldn’t sign for a divorce – so the bad situation just got worse.
     One afternoon, over a year ago, Connie showed up at my office – without an appointment and unannounced. Garrett had finally moved out of the Brasfield home, but he was still not willing to agree to a divorce. She told me that Garrett was now living at Harmon’s Creek, and she needed him out of her life so she could move on.  According to Connie, one of Garrett’s drinking buddies, Jerry ‘Hudson’ Henley, had an old trailer at Harmon’s Creek Fish Camp on the Tennessee River.  He had moved in Jerry’s trailer and was bumming around – still without work.  Connie wanted me to gather some dirt on Garrett – dirt that would force him to agree to a divorce.  I refused.  I think that was the right decision.
     Connie has always been an attractive woman.  Not with looks that would stop traffic, but she could hold her own with most her age. However, the circumstances surrounding Garrett had taken their toll, and were showing in both her looks and her weight.  She wasn’t taking care of herself as she once had, and it was obvious that Connie needed help – but she didn’t need my kind of help.
     I advised her to reconcile with Garrett, if possible – that would be the best for their son, Jason. If she couldn’t do that, then move on without the divorce.  Eventually Garrett would relent – I hoped.
     Connie argued and spent two hours in my office unhappy and crying.  I sympathized with her, but marriage counseling isn’t my business.  And if it were, my advice would have still been the same. Besides, digging up dirt that might not exist wouldn’t help anyone – especially her.
     I heard later that, somehow, Garrett managed to get his hands on a little money.  He relocated to Reelfoot Lake, opened a small bait shop and worked as a part-time fishing guide. The source of his financing wasn’t known, but everyone was pleased that Garrett might have gotten himself back on a road to recovery.  Unfortunately, things were not as they appeared.
I also heard that Connie found a job at Wayne Knitting, and was trying to make things the best she could for herself and their son, Jason.  Evidently she was taking my advice.

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     Garrett has called my office a few times over the past year, and I eventually stopped taking his calls. I haven’t had contact or spoken with Garrett in almost six months, and not with Connie since our meeting. That changed last Friday afternoon, and it’s where our story begins.