Work Text:
Rookie Starsky and Hutch
By TLR
Plot: Their early days.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Graduation Day, 1970.
The high ceiling of the Bay City Police Academy’s assembly hall resounded with applause, celebratory whistles, and the occasional spout of laughter. Proud families and city officials sat in neat rows, watching a new batch of cadets rise to receive their badges. Near the front, two newly minted graduates, David Starsky and Ken Hutchinson, stood on opposite ends of the stage, each receiving polite claps from the audience.
Starsky and his headful of chocolate-colored curls offered a smile as the Academy commander handed him his certificate. “Congratulations, Cadet Starsky.”
Hutch, tall and lean with cream-colored hair, shook the hands of others with equal sincerity.
Afterward, in the boisterous courtyard outside, newly sworn officers laughed and traded jokes. Starsky posed for pictures with his mother, brother, and aunt and uncle, who exuded as much energy as he did, while Hutch endured a final handshake from a city councilman and nodded politely to well-wishers. Each rookie already felt the jitters, eager to start policing but and wondering what shape policing might take.
::
The following Monday, Detective Bill Renfro, thick around the middle and wearing a perpetual scowl, slouched by a squad car and lit a cigarette. He eyed his new ride-along partner, David Starsky, with faint impatience.
“So, you’re my rookie,” Renfro grumbled. “Heard you did all right at the Academy. Let’s see if you can keep up in the real world.”
Starsky tried to flash a friendly smile. “Lookin' forward to learning from you, sir.”
Renfro scoffed. “Whatever. Just hop in. We got a call about a burglary in a rough neighborhood, but you’ll see half those folks there blow hot air. Probably a false report, we’ll let it pass.”
Starsky frowned at the dismissive tone. In the Academy, he’d been drilled to treat every call seriously. “Shouldn’t we at least check it out thoroughly?”
Renfro flicked his cigarette ash. “Kid, we answer the radio. If nobody’s bleedin’, I’m not losing my lunch break. Trust me--these folks call the cops for every bump in the night. We got better things to do.”
Starsky bit his lip. This can’t be right, he thought as he climbed into the squad car. As they drove through Bay City’s sun-baked streets, a knot formed in his stomach. The fabled sense of duty he’d embraced in the Academy was colliding with a partner who seemed more interested in skating by than real justice.
::
Several blocks away, Hutch got into a dusty black-and-white with Detective Brian “Zed” Johnson, an officer known for a bull-like presence and an easy disregard for trivial calls. Johnson eyed Hutch’s pressed uniform. “We’ll do fine if you keep quiet,” he said, starting the engine with a lazy turn of the key.
Hutch forced a polite nod. “Yes, sir. I’m here to learn.”
Johnson smirked. “Keep it simple. Half the calls are nonsense. If we ever stumble on something big, I got connections, see? We’ll handle it our way.”
Hutch, though outwardly calm, felt a twinge of unease. “But if a victim needs help…?”
Johnson waved a dismissive hand. “Kid, I’m not letting whiners ruin my day. We got paperwork stacked high enough. You’ll see. Sometimes it’s easier to pass a situation off than get stuck investigating, save room for the big ones."
As they rattled off to a “loud disturbance” call, Hutch tensed, hoping for a real chance to serve. But Johnson breezed past the house in question without stopping, ignoring raised voices on the porch. “Domestic spat. They're always at each other. They’ll sort it out.”
Mild anger brewed in Hutch’s chest. Isn’t that why we wear these badges? To respond to folks in trouble? But Johnson exuded an aura of “don’t you dare question me,” so Hutch stayed quiet, storing up frustration.
::
Days passed, and both rookies found themselves chafing under the cynical and lackadaisical mentorship of these older officers. For Starsky, rides with Renfro felt like a constant letdown. Real calls involving break-ins or battered victims ended with Renfro shrugging them off or passing them on to other cops.
One afternoon, they found a tearful elderly woman standing outside her ransacked home. Renfro took a cursory glance, jotted a few notes, then urged Starsky back to the car. “That's what she gets for leaving the door unlocked."
Starsky’s heart cringed as the woman cried out for justice. He put a caring arm around her but Renfro said, "We aren't social workers."
"Right," Starsky told him. "We're cops. Serve and protect?"
Renfro pulled him outside. "Forget it."
Starsky seethed internally, but his mentor started the car and they left.
::
Meanwhile, Hutch was enduring Johnson's brand of apathy. A local shopkeeper reported repeated nighttime vandalism, but Johnson insisted it was teenagers fooling around, no big deal. Hutch privately questioned that assumption, suspecting an extortion ring shaking down small businesses. But Johnson refused to investigate further, saying, "We have bigger fish to fry."
After each shift, Starsky and Hutch trudged home, tired, morally drained, and deeply disappointed in the reality of rookie life. They recognized that not all cops were like this, but their confidence in the department wavered.
::
For Starsky, the final straw came one evening at a battered women’s shelter. They’d responded to an emergency call about a violent ex-husband coming in and causing trouble. Arriving at the scene, Renfro refused to intervene beyond a quick “Get a restraining order, lady,” ignoring her bruises.
Starsky’s blood nearly boiled. We’re here to protect the vulnerable, he thought, swallowing the urge to challenge Renfro openly. He went so far as to give the woman his phone number and murmured to her, "Call me if you need to. I'll help you relocate to another shelter."
For Hutch, the break came when Johnson casually accepted a “gift” from a local bar owner suspected of drug dealing. Johnson stuffed the envelope in his pocket, winking at Hutch. “Helps keep the peace, kid. No need to file a report if we’re taken care of.”
"Excuse me," Hutch said with a little confusion. "Isn't that what you call being on the take, sir?"
Johnson just laughed.
Hutch felt sick. The Academy had hammered home the ideals of honesty and community trust. Johnson's behavior reeked of bribery, or at the least, cozy corruption. Hutch half-wanted to shake some sense into the man, but he clamped his jaw and quietly decided enough was enough.
::
"Come in."
Starsky stepped into the office of Captain Harold Dobey, who had a reputation for honesty and fairness.
Dobey sat behind his busy desk, looking swamped but sharp-eyed. He gestured for Starsky to sit down. "What can I do for you, Rookie?"
Starsky sat down in a chair. “Well, um, look. I'm not sure how this will go down with you, but I want to talk about Detective Renfro. He isn't exactly policing the way we were taught. He brushes off calls with real victims. He… how do I say it? He’s slacking.”
Dobey’s expression turned sincere. “Let's just hope he's having a rough patch. I'll talk to him. It's true that some older cops get jaded. You have specifics?"
Starsky detailed a few incidents, then said, "I'm not tryin' to rat the guy out. I just want to do a good job for the people out there."
Dobey took notes, then said, “All right. Let me see what I can do about reassigning you to someone else. We can’t have promising new officers shackled to questionable mentors. This department is complicated, and usually takes care of its own.”
"Ha."
Dobey offered a nod. “I respect that, son. Been there myself.”
::
Barely ten minutes after Starsky left, Hutch arrived at Dobey’s door and knocked on it.
"Come in."
Hutch went in with an air of resigned frustration.
Dobey raised a curious brow. “Second rookie today.”
Hutch hesitated, then admitted, “Yes, Captain. My assigned partner, Zed Johnson, is ignoring real calls, brushing off complaints, even taking payoffs. This isn’t what I signed up for.”
Dobey exhaled, tapping his pen. “I just got a similar grievance from another rookie. Johnson, Renfro, a few others… We can’t fix the problem overnight. But if you want reassignment, I’ll do my best.”
Hutch’s shoulders relaxed. “I’d appreciate that. I came here to help people, not ignore them. I like my job, but not under these conditions."
Dobey grunted in agreement. “We need more officers like you. Let me see what I can do. Hang tight.”
Hutch nodded, going to the vending area for a cup of coffee. He spotted a dark-haired rookie getting his own cup. They exchanged a polite nod, then Starsky said, "Tastes like sandpaper."
"No kidding."
"Hey, you're Hutchinson."
"Hutch if you like. Starsky, right?"
"Yeah."
When Hutch noticed an exhausted look in the other rookie's eyes he said, "Bad shift?"
Starsky offered a wry grin. “Bad partner."
"Same here. Rookie life isn't exactly like the Academy brochures, is it?"
"Not even close. I'm with this older cop who just... ignores the important stuff, like victims, and laps up the easy stuff, like traffic tickets. I don't get it."
"You're speaking my language. The older guy I'm with totally took some money from a bar owner suspected of being a dealer. I mean, what's the point if the cops are as bad as the criminals?"
"I hear you."
Just then, Captain Dobey appeared, and they made room so he could get his coffee. Once he took it from the vending machine and began to drink, his eyes moved between the two rookies.
“Starsky. Hutchinson. Bring your coffee to my office.”
::
In the office, Dobey regarded them with a mix of curiosity and concern. “The guys you’ve been riding with are ignoring victims, skirting calls, maybe worse...”
Hutch nodded. “I think so, yes.”
"Ditto," Starsky added. “I can’t keep doing ride-alongs with a cop who shrugs off battered women or burglary victims.”
Dobey’s smiled a little. “You two remind me of me and my old partner Elmo years ago. Bright-eyed rookies wanting to do good. Elmo and I looked out for each other until… well, he was killed in the line of duty. But I see our fire in you two.”
Starsky and Hutch glanced at each other, a flicker of respect passing between them. They realized they shared the same frustration, and the same moral compass.
Dobey cleared his throat. “I can’t just reassign every rookie. But I can pull a few strings to pair you two together when the time is right. That is, if you think you can handle each other.”
Starsky’s eyes flicked to Hutch. “Well, from what I've seen of him in the Academy, we could work.”
Hutch half-smiled. “Worth a shot. Better than riding with slackers or borderline crooks.”
“Sounds good. Integrity can be a dirty word in some police circles, but not with me. That's what I like to see in my officers, and I'm happy it still exists."
Relief mingled with anticipation in the air. Starsky stuck out a hand to Hutch. Hutch clasped it, a firm, purposeful shake sealing their new partnership.
Starsky smiled. "How about lunch, partner?"
"Huggy's?"
"Heard of it, never been there."
"Let's go."
::
They walked through the squad room, exchanging minor talk about the Academy and their older mentors, each quietly realizing how this chance re-assignment might shape their future. The specter of corrupt or lazy cops still loomed in Bay City, and even now their ex-partners looked at them with a bitter, disdainful eye, but at least now they wouldn’t tackle it alone.
The synergy between two earnest rookies promised something bright. This was day one of Starsky and Hutch, a phenomenal, unforgettable partnership and friendship born from disenchantment and purpose, aiming to bring genuine hope and justice to Bay City streets.
The End