Decades ago, Walt Fennington and I, in our reign over Brooklyn got really serious with a few really pain in the ass knuckleheads. I guess Charlie Chesler, long deceased, was our nemesis. We locked him up almost every day. It got so bad we started feeling sorry for him. So we put our heads together and came up with a plan. We would pay him to,leave town. We settled on 10 bucks. Gave him the money. Next day…he was back. We were pissed. I said Charlie, what happened? He said he made it as far south as Transit truck stop on the money. Holy crap, I said. He said Well that sob Fennington only gave me 2:50. Well that was that. Years later, I was in team police at Northern perusing the Maryland Gazette. There was Charlie in the obituary section. Beaten to death in Baltimore Highlands. Settles that saga.