Jack took a long look at his speedometer before
slowing down: 73 in a 55 mph zone. Fourth time in
as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack
pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry
about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some
other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.

The cop was stepping out of his car, the big
pad in hand. Bob? Bob from Church?
Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was
worse than the coming ticket. A Christian cop
catching a guy from his own church. A guy who
happened to be a little eager to get home
after a long day at the office.
Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he
saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.
"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."
"Hello, Jack." No smile.
"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to
see my wife and kids."
"Yeah, I guess so."
Bob seemed uncertain. Good. "I've seen some long
days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the
rules a bit -- just this once."

Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane
said something about roast beef and potatoes
tonight. Know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean. I also know that you
have a reputation in the precinct."
Ouch. This was not going in the right direction.
Time to change tactics.
"What'd you clock me at?"
"Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?"

"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon
as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65." The lie
seemed to come easier with every ticket.
"Please, Jack, in the car."
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the
still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at
the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window.
The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad.
Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?
Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays
before Jack ever sat near this cop again. A tap on
the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob,
a folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window
a mere two inches, just enough room for
Bob to pass him the slip.

"Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out
of his voice. Bob returned to his police car without
a word. Jack watched his retreat in the mirror. Jack
unfolded the sheet of paper.
How much was this one going to cost? Wait a minute.
What was this? Some kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket.
Jack began to read:

"Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was
six when killed by a car. You guessed it -- a speeding
driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man
was free. Free to hug his daughters. All three of them.
I had only one, and I'm going to have to wait until
Heaven before I can ever hug her again. A thousand times
I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand times
I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again.
Even now. Pray for me. And be careful,
Jack, my son is all I have left. Bob."

Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car pull away
and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared.
A full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away and drove
slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a
surprised wife and kids when he arrived.