Fan Fiction

Part I: Rebirth
Chapter 1 :: Chapter 2 :: Chapter 3 :: Chapter 4 :: Chapter 5 :: Chapter 6 :: Chapter 7 :: Chapter 8

Part II: Reunion
Chapter 1 :: Chapter 2 :: Chapter 3 :: Chapter 4 :: Chapter 5 :: Chapter 6 :: Chapter 7 :: Chapter 8

I am not a professional writer - only one of the many people who have loved and continue to love Miami Vice, one the greatest television shows ever produced, and who keep it alive in our hearts beyond the end of its production run.

This story is only one vision of what could have happened in the lives of the characters that we had the good fortune to get to know and cherish over the five years that the show was in production. It tries to stay true to the characters and ambience created by Anthony Yerkovich and developed by Michael Mann, and attempts to tie up some of the lose ends that we were left with when the show finally ended in 1989.

Many thanks to Yerkovitch and Mann and to the fabulous actors and actresses who made the show what it was - Don Johnson, Phillip Michael Thomas, Edward James Olmos, Saundra Santiago, Olivia Brown, Michael Talbott and John Diehl.

Thank you all for giving us the incredible experience that was and is Miami Vice!

eaj

Prologue

The two Fedex parcels arrived at about the same time even though they were over 1000 miles apart -- one at the Bronx police station in New York and one at the Organized Crime Bureau (OCB) in Miami, Florida.

Both parcels came from Nassau in the Bahamas with no sender's name or return address. Both were paid for with cash and untraceable. After they arrived at the police stations, both parcels were scanned and then opened. Both contained an envelope marked "Personal and Confidential" with a videotape and a short note inside. The only difference was the name of the addressee. The Bronx envelope read "Ricardo Tubbs". The Miami envelope read "Martin Castillo". Both envelopes were delivered and both were opened.

The typed notes inside both envelopes were the same:

Both notes were signed:

Ricardo (Rico) Tubbs was a detective first class on the New York police force working out of the Bronx. Since he had returned to New York from Miami 13 years ago, he had been working vice. New York wasn't Miami with its year-round summer weather, palm trees and fabulous beaches, but it was home, and it felt right to be doing something to help out the old neighbourhood.

He had learned more about undercover work and illegal drug stings in the five years he was on loan to Miami Vice than he would ever have learned in a lifetime at detective school. His prime teacher and best friend had been his partner, James Sonny Crockett. Crockett lived somewhere in the Caribbean now and was doing some pretty crazy things. The tape must have come from him - but the note somehow didn't seem to fit Sonny's style.

"Haven't seen Sonny for a while. This must be a joke or invite of some type," he thought. "I wonder what he's up to."

Tubbs was just coming off a long shift, so he took the tape into the AV room and loaded it into the VCR. He dropped some coins into the drink machine and hit the button for orange/guava juice. He retrieved the can, popped it open and settled down to watch the tape. It wasn't exactly what he had been expecting or wanting to see, and it certainly didn't come from Sonny, but he watched it to the end. He needed to see those instructions.

Martin Castillo had been the lieutenant in charge of the vice squad for eighteen years at the Miami OCB. They had wanted to make him a captain a few years back, but he had turned the promotion down, preferring instead to work closer to the front lines. He hadn't changed much since Crockett and Tubbs had resigned from Miami Vice thirteen years earlier. He had tried to get them stay on, but too much had gone on behind the scenes out of Castillo's control for either of them to want to continue. He was perhaps a bit more cynical after experiencing the way his two top detectives had been used and abused by the system, but he still maintained his unshakeable principles of right and wrong. He was still the serious and silent police lieutenant dedicated to apprehending the criminals who polluted the lives of American citizens.

He was curious about the tape. To him, anything that was out of the ordinary deserved investigation and this tape was definitely out of the ordinary. He borrowed a TV and VCR from the briefing room, took it to his office, loaded in the tape and sat down to watch it. Castillo was a master at maintaining a poker face. But even he winced at what he saw on that tape.

The show had hardly ended when the phone rang. He picked up the receiver and the voice on the other end said, "There's a Detective Ricardo Tubbs from New York on the line, sir. Would you like to speak with him?"

"Put him through," he replied.

Rico's voice was shaky, "We've got to talk," he said.

"I know," was the reply, "I'll make the necessary arrangements to get you down to Miami right away."

A fresh gentle breeze was drifting in from ocean and across the deserted beach as the sun peeked over the horizon and cast a warm glow on the cool white sand. The overnight tide had washed away all traces from the day before, leaving the beach in its natural virgin state until a lone runner appeared from around the point and paced quietly along leaving one set of solitary footprints.

It was too early for the locals who lived the laid back Caribbean lifestyle to be up and about, and definitely too early for the tourists to even think of getting out of bed. But the runner on the beach, was not a local, nor was he a typical tourist on a one-week rest-and-relaxation getaway. His last job, like the others he had taken on in the past thirteen years had been draining -- very rewarding, but draining. In between jobs, he needed some time to shut off the adrenaline rush, cool down, and spend some time in the real world. And after each job when he took the time to cool down and reflect on his life, he tried to get a little closer to understanding who he was and what was important in his life. As he jogged along the beach this morning, Sonny Crockett (he only used James when lawyers and judges were involved) was deep in thought, contemplating the reunion with his son and ex-wife, and thinking, "how could I ever have let her get way?"

Caroline had left him and moved away with their son to Atlanta when he was still working undercover with Miami Vice. Since then, he had kept in touch with her, but he rarely made the trip up north to visit. It was better that way. If anything happened to him, and he was sure his luck was going to run out some day if he stayed in this business, it would be better if the ties with Caroline weren't too close. He understood why she had left, and he had let her go, but he never stopped caring for her. After living the life of a wife of a devil-may-care, shoot-from-hip, undercover vice cop in Miami, she had needed and deserved to have some certainty in her life away from the fear that some crazy dope smuggler was going to kill her or her family. And so, she had returned to her roots and built a new life for herself and Billy.

She had moved to back to Florida a few years later, to Ocala, and met and married Bob -- utterly straight, totally dependable, take-no chances Bob. They had a son together, Joey, a younger brother for Billy. The last time Sonny went to Ocala was three years ago to attend Bob and Joey's funeral. Sonny often contemplated the irony of her losing Bob and Joey in a senseless car accident. Joey would be 13 today if a drunk hadn't broadsided the car they were in two blocks from home in a quiet residential neighbourhood. It hardly seemed fair. Sonny was the one that pulled the crazy stunts and lived the dangerous life. He couldn't count the times he had nearly bought it from low life drug lords and other sleazeballs, but here he was jogging down a deserted beach peacefully contemplating life, and they were lying stone cold in the ground.

And Caitlin was gone too - beautiful Caitlin, the woman who had more than filled the void in his life and breathed new life into his soul, the woman who had made him fall in love all over again - the woman who had carried his unborn child to the grave. They were dead because of him and he would never let that happen again. After Caitlin's death he shut out love and buried his feelings. Since then, he had avoided all personal ties. If he didn't let himself get close to anyone, he wouldn't have to go through that loss again. After all these years, the pain was still there.

But Sonny kept the promise he made to his son Billy when he had visited him back in '89 just before Joey was born. That was just a short time before he had pulled the pin on the Miami Dade police force and left the OCB. Every year he set aside a month or so for just the two of them - cruising the keys, doing some fishing, spending the time together.

Billy was 23 now and graduating from university. How time flies, he thought. He had decided to attend the graduation and was really looking forward to seeing his son again. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was also looking forward to seeing Caroline again too.

Sonny had called Billy last night to let him know that he would be there. He'd leave his 40-foot sloop parked at the marina and hop the inter-island commuter plane to Grand Turk and on to Miami. There were too many memories there to stay any longer than he needed to. From Miami it was a short flight to Ocala to spend a few days with Billy and Caroline.

His thoughts kept rolling on into what he was doing and where he was going with his life. It was almost thirteen years ago that Crockett, Miami's top vice detective at the time, had pitched his shield on the tarmac at the amphib airstrip. Burnt out and frustrated with a system that could never seem to stem the growth of illegal drugs, that turned the bad guys free and punished the innocent strays, and that burned the good guys who busted their asses trying to do something about the whole sorry mess, he finally gave it up. He moved south where the water was warm, the drinks were cold and he didn't know names of the players.

However, it didn't take long before the players found him. The DEA, the FBI and the Company kept tabs on where he was. They knew he was the best, and they knew his principles were uncompromising, even if his methods were sometimes unorthodox. They recruited him for assignments and referred him to other "friendlies" to help them out when the official channels were stymied. Freed from the restrictive rules and regulations of official agencies, Sonny figured that he had taken more snow and smack out of circulation every year working freelance than he did the whole time he was in vice.

A major benefit of working freelance was that he could pick and choose assignments and take a break when he needed to cool down for a while and regroup. The other big benefit was the pay. One "job" paid a whole lot more than his annual wage on the city payroll, and there had been lots of jobs. He had a pretty healthy income now, and it was all above board, reported to IRS and taxes paid -- that was one his uncompromising principles. Not that he really needed the money. Caitlin had been a pretty successful pop singer and after she died, he found that her estate had left him very well off financially. But he had never been totally comfortable living in a million-dollar house while earning $475 a week take-home as a cop when he she was alive. After she was gone, it was even harder to digest. And he would trade every cent of it if only he could have her back again. It was important to him to make his own way - it was another one of those principles of his.

But there was something that always seemed to nag at him in the back of his thoughts. Sure he was taking dope of the streets, but the shakers were still shaking. The one problem with freelance is you didn't get to take the bad guys down. Maybe it was time to retire completely. He didn't need to work anymore, but he couldn't see himself retiring just yet. Maybe he'd set himself up a fishing charter service someplace. But from what he heard about dealing with tourists, they could be tougher to deal with than crooks, and he often joked that you weren't allowed to shoot tourists.

He was at the end of the beach now. Turn around and head back -- down the beach, round the point, along the path through the palm trees and to the marina for a quick cool shower and a change of clothes. Sonny kept his boat at in berth at a small private marina on Salt Cay. It served him well as a home base. The island was small enough to keep most of the tourists away, but big enough to sport a small commuter airport.

He had become used to living on a boat. The St. Vitus Dance had been home when he worked vice, a nice perk provided by the city that fitted right in with his undercover role as Sonny Burnett, but that was a lifetime away. Now the Vitus II provided him a mobile home base when he was working an assignment, and the berth on Salt Cay was his safe haven and restful retreat when he wanted some time to wind down. He finished the shower, pulled on some comfy cotton pants and a clean T-shirt and headed back to the slip for a cool beer. He was thinking about seeing Caroline and Billy again and the new deep-sea fishing set-up he had bought for a graduation present. "Maybe life isn't so bad after all," he thought....

...but for some unknown reason he couldn't shake a funny feeling that something wasn't right. He seemed to have a sixth sense for nosing out danger - it had saved his life on more than one occasion. But this time he pushed it away and kept strolling down to the quay. He didn't notice the two rather ominous-looking gentlemen heading his way until just before his foot hit the wood of the dock. That's when he sensed their closeness. Then he felt a tight grip on his arm and the unmistakable feel of cold steel pressing into his lower back.

"Good morning Mr. Crockett," the definitely Hispanic voice said, "did you have a nice run?" "Please, come with us quietly man. An old friend of yours would like to see you again."

They walked him away from his slip to another boat where a third man was standing. He was much younger than the first two -- just a kid really. He looked a bit uneasy. Somehow he looked familiar, but Sonny couldn't quite place the face. They had the upper hand right now. He'd just have to wait it out until an opportunity presented itself. With the gun still at his back, and the goons blocking the view from the shore, the kid cuffed Sonny's hands in front of him. Then the thug holding him tightened his grip, popping the vein in Sonny's forearm and nodded to the young man. Before Sonny knew what was happening, the kid plunged a hypo into the vein and pushed the plunger down.

"Nice work Ricardo," the goon who was gripping his arm said. "Enjoy your trip Mr. Crockett."

Sonny felt the warmth race through his veins and apprehensively anticipated the feeling of euphoria and the rush that was about to explode in his brain. "Damn," he thought, "I think I'm in big trouble."

The initial euphoria wasn't accompanied by the high-energy feeling of power and mental alertness typical of cocaine. Instead, it was followed by the warm flush and feeling of light-headed heaviness that came from heroin. He sensed that the dose was strong, but somehow figured that it wasn't an OD. Through the haze his mind registered the thought that smack was worse than blow.

"Damn," his thoughts swirled, "I really am in big trouble!"

As the two oversized goons escorted him onto the boat, his head began to reel and the feeling spread throughout his body. By the time they escorted him down into the hull, he found he couldn't even keep his balance. They pushed him down on a bed and cuffed him there. Through the haze, he felt the boat move slowly out from the wharf. One part of him knew he was in big trouble, but as the heroin continued to invade his mind and body, his fears were replaced with drug-induced mindless pleasure to be followed by the "nod" of drowsiness typical of a smack high

Part I: Rebirth
Chapter 1 :: Chapter 2 :: Chapter 3 :: Chapter 4 :: Chapter 5 :: Chapter 6 :: Chapter 7 :: Chapter 8

Part II: Reunion
Chapter 1 :: Chapter 2 :: Chapter 3 :: Chapter 4 :: Chapter 5 :: Chapter 6 :: Chapter 7 :: Chapter 8