"The Justice Squad"

[ManInTheLoft]

"The Justice Squad"

(closed for MarieDavisRPs)​

"Patrolman, have you called your Union Rep'?"

Thomas Reed flinched out of his daze at the question. His attention had been on the dead body being loaded into a Morgue wagon. He asked, "Do I need to?"

"I would," the Incident Investigator recommended. "You shouldn't be talking to anyone about this without advice, especially me."

"Why especially you?" Thomas asked, blissfully ignorant of what was ahead of him. He'd never discharged his weapon anywhere other than at the shooting range. He'd certainly never fired it at another human being, let alone killed said person.

"Because it's my job to assume that this was a bad shoot and investigate it as such," the Detective said, adding, "until you can show me beyond a doubt that it wasn't."

Thomas looked a bit surprised at the man's claim, enough so that the Investigator added, "Personally, I want this to be a good shoot. I don't like taking down good cops who are only out here on the streets doing their job. So I'm hoping you've done nothing wrong here. But it's my job to assume the opposite, for the time being."

A female voice chimed in from nearby, telling the plain clothed detective to back off. The Investigator handed Thomas one of his business cards, telling him, "If you see that phone number come up on your Caller ID, it's me, and you would be advised to pick up on the first ring."

The man gave the female detective, also plain clothed an up and down look, not hiding the ogle in the least, then departed. As soon as the man was out of ear shot, Thomas looked to the woman and asked quietly, "Why are you helping me?"

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Pamela Craig cut short her statement to the second Incident Investigator to interrupt the questions the first one was asking of Patrol Officer Reed. When that second Detective departed and Thomas asked why Pamela was helping him, she told him quite bluntly, "Because I need a beat cop in my pocket, and that's where you are now.

Just in case he didn't fully understand her meaning, Pamela told Thomas, "You shot an innocent man in the chest twice, killing him. Oh, yes, he's filth, we both know that. His sheet is long and highlighted with everything from B&E to rape to manslaughter, most of it shit he'd gotten out of because he's a valuable snitch to..."

Pamela didn't name the Intelligence Bureau Detective that the now dead man had been supplying information to for years. She didn't think the Patrol Officer needed that information at the moment.

Pamela looked down the alley to the two Detectives, who were quietly comparing the stories they'd each been given. She looked to the dark puddle of blood where the man had fallen, dead before he hit the ground. Then she looked back to Thomas.

"Tomorrow, noon, 400 block of Templeton," she began her instructions. "Little coffee shop called DeMornay's. Be there so that we can have a little talk. In the meantime, you speak to no one about what happened her tonight. No one, do you hear? You have 48 hours before you are even required to contact your PBA rep, then another 48 after that before you are required to give your official statement."

Pamela stepped closer, until her face was just inches from Thomas's. She told him in no uncertain terms, "You keep your mouth shut, or we both go to jail. And I'm gonna tell you now, I'll get out, but you'll die in there. Understand?"

She reached out and patted him on the cheek as she smiled. Then she turned and left the scene. The Investigators tried to wave her down for more questions, but she only called back over her shoulder, "Talk to my PBA."

 

[ManInTheLoft]

"Because I need a beat cop in my pocket, and that's where you are now."

Thomas didn't like the plain clothed detective's response to his question of why she was helping him. He would have preferred something along the lines of because the badges have to stick together or because the guy you shot is a dirt bag and you shouldn't go down for this.

He listened to her explanation and to her threat, then said meekly, "I'll keep my mouth shut. And yes, lunch tomorrow."

He made his way to the Incident Inspector, asked if he was free to leave, and after being told yes, made his way home, which was only six blocks away. He visited a bodega along the way, picking up some hot food, chips, dip, and a bottle of whiskey.

At home, he flopped down in his old ratty couch with all his goodies, but it was the whiskey he opened and partook of first. He reran the incident in the alley in his mind...

His shift had ended at the 19th Precinct, and he was walking the 9 blocks home when he heard gunfire...

He instinctive ran toward the shots, and arriving at the opening of an alley, found a man running directly at him...

Another shot rang out, and while Thomas didn't realize it at the time, it had come not from the man who was now skidding to a stop just yards away from him but had come from far down the alley...

Something flash in the man's upraised hand, and Thomas had thought it was light glinting off a handgun, possibly a stainless steel barrel...

Without even thinking anything other than he was about to be shot dead, Thomas pulled his own weapon and instinctively fired...

And after the man had dropped, Thomas approached to kick the gun away and check to see if the man was hopefully still alive, only to find that the object in the man's hand had been a cell phone, with its screen lit up with a call to 9-1-1.

Thomas downed another big swig of whiskey, grimacing at the taste that honestly he'd never liked. He needed an escape, though. He'd killed an innocent man, shooting him dead while he himself was calling 9-1-1, likely to report the shooting of which, also likely, he had played no part.

Detective Craig had arrived from seemingly out of nowhere as Thomas, without his police radio, was just about to call 9-1-1 himself. The stopped him from calling, asked for details, then did the unbelievable:

She pocketed the man's phone after disconnecting the ongoing call to 9-1-1 and removing both the battery and sim card...

She pulled a small revolver from her jacket pocket, put it in the dead man's hand, aimed it out the alley across the empty street, and fired a round...

And then, laying the man's gun toting hand back down on the ground, she told Thomas that everything he'd seen and heard was true and accurate except that he had in fact seen a gun in the man's hand and he had in fact been shot at.

In a state of confusion and panic, Thomas hadn't seen any other option than to agree with the Detective's story. He downed another big gulp of whiskey, opened the remaining food items, turned on a sports channel, and drank and ate the night away...

He snapped awake the next morning at the sound of his cell phone ringing. His head pounded from a hangover, and his eyes were so blurry he could hardly make out his Sergeant's Caller ID on the phone. Thomas let it go to voice mail, but even before he checked the message, a text came in from an unknown number. It reminded him Keep your mouth shut. 1pm, not noon. Be there.

Thomas checked the message, which was his supervisor telling him his was off shift until the shooting investigation began but that he was to call his PBA rep' immediately. Recalling what Detective Craig had said, Thomas decided that immediately could wait.

At half past noon, he was already at DeMornay's, eating a bagel with cream cheese and sucking on a tall Americano. He had no idea what to expect from his meeting with Pamela Craig, but already, Thomas was seeing his future as one of investigations, accusations, charges, trial, sentencing, jail, and convict-on-cop beatings until finally someone put a shiv in his kidneys and left him on the prison's concrete floor to bleed out.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Pamela Craig had been sitting in a second coffee shop kitty corner to DeMornay's for more than three hours. Her view of Thomas's destination also included the streets where surveillance vans might pull up if Thomas had decided to go to his supervisors about last night's shooting and, more importantly, Pamela's adjustments to the scene and story. She saw no indication that Thomas might be turning on her, though, and twenty minutes after the young cop had sat and she was certain he was alone, she finally crossed the street and approached him.

"Honey, you made it," Pamela said with an overly friendly tone that certainly did not fit the context. She gestured him to stand, saying, "Give us a hug."

Thomas was hesitant but stood. When he did, she pulled him in close and kissed him on the cheek. She also ran her hands under his jacket and all over his torso, front and back, asking in whisper, "Are you wearing a wire, Thomas? Do you mind if I call you Thomas ... Thomas?"

Convinced he was clean, she sat and gestured him to do that same. She waved down a waitress, asking for a black coffee. She took hold of Thomas's drink, sipping at it, then taking a bigger gulp. Then she got right to it.

"You work for me now," Pamela said with a firm tone. "You're being transferred, as soon as you clear your hearing, which you will do, so long as you stick to our story. You'll be in uniform most of the time, street clothes the rest. You'll be on call and responsible to me 24/7. You'll do what I say, when I say, how I say it. And you won't question me, ever."

She pulled out a cell phone and slid it across the table to Thomas, finishing, "Or this will show up on social media, anonymously, of course."

Tapping on the screen would bring up a dark video of the previous night's shooting. It was a compilation of three POVs: a fixed surveillance camera down the alley from where the dead man had been coming; a commercial security camera mounted above and across the street from behind where Thomas had been standing; and a body camera that Pamela had been wearing at the time of the shooting.

In this edited version, however, the dead perpetrator didn't shoot at Thomas, which was in fact what had happened. But the bit where Pamela fired and planted the gun was cut and hacked and faked to make it appear as if Thomas had performed her actions that night.

"I have a guy whose the best at video manipulation," Pamela explained. "It will pass muster if it ever becomes part of the investigation into your cold blooded killing of an unarmed citizen who was doing nothing more than calling 9-1-1 while fleeing a shooting. The security video from across the street mysteriously suffered a glitch that shows what you see there. And I have three witnesses who will swear that the gun shots they heard fit the story that you shot the man without provocation."

Her coffee arrived. Once the waitress had departed, she continued, "They found the bullet from the perp's gun this morning, in the building across the street, right where I aimed. The trajectory of it, if looked into closely, will show that the gun was fired after the man was on the ground, dead or dying. However, you have a trusted Intelligence Bureau detective, namely me, who just happened to be working a case around the corner and arrived in time to see what happened, and she will be more than happy to back your story that the man shot at you while still very much alive and on his feet."

 

[ManInTheLoft]

Thomas began to think he'd been stood up with Pamela stepped up next to him and said, "Honey, you made it."

With a confused tone, he began, "Uh, yeah, I um--"

"Give us a hug."

He hesitated but did as told, wondering whether or not Pamela might have been undercover or something. Then he felt her hands all over his body and knew what she was doing even before she whispered to him, "Are you wearing a wire, Thomas? Do you mind if I call you Thomas ... Thomas?"

"No, I'm not," he said, sounding tentative. He hadn't considered telling anyone the truth about the night before nor trying to catch Pamela talking about the evening here. "Sure. You can call me Thomas."

She told him that he would be working for her and slid the phone over to show him her evidence. Shocked, he said, "That's not what happened. That isn't what happened!"

But Pamela didn't care about the truth, obviously, caring only that he was now a fish on her hook, being reeled in. Honestly, Thomas was somewhat impressed with just how well she'd set him up. Pissed, but impressed all the same.

Then she told him he was lucky in that she, a trusted Intelligence Bureau detective was on his side.

"I wouldn't need you on my side," he growled softly, "if you hadn't done what you had. I could have explained what happened. There had been gunfire. The man was running right at me. He lifted his hand my direction. I..."

Thomas had been about to say that he had the right to fire, to defend himself, but really? He'd killed an unarmed man, and wish as hard as he might, he was at least going to lose his job.

He could see in Pamela's face that she was confident in her success in recruiting him into whatever it was that he wanted from her. He looked away, unable to look her in the eyes as he contemplated what came next. Then he looked Pamela hard in the eye, telling her, "I made a mistake. But I'm a good cop. And if you think I'm gonna go dirty to save my ass, you're wrong."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"I wouldn't need you on my side," Thomas growled, recapping what had happened. Pamela opened her mouth to remind him of what he'd done, but then remained quiet. She'd had him already.

"I made a mistake. But I'm a good cop. And if you think I'm gonna go dirty to save my ass, you're wrong."

"I'm not asking you to do anything dirty," Pamela responded, knowing full well that eventually she would. "Once in a while, I'll need backup in a situation where I would prefer not to go through official channels is all. That's when I'll call, and that's when you'll come."

She reached into her jacket's outer pocket, removed a business sized envelope, and set it on the chair to her left, his right. "You're gonna need a throwaway. In the envelope you'll find cash, an address, and a man's name. You tell him Suzie Q sent you."

Pamela smiled, explaining, "It's an inside joke I might tell you one day. Tell him you need a five shot .38 Special without a hammer spur. Don't buy one without both a holster for both the ankle and small of the back. Small, easily concealed. Text me the make and model number as soon as you have it."

She stood to leave, asking first, "You remember your story for the hearing, yes? And you remember what happens if you don't survive it?"

Unless Thomas had anything more she had to address, she was done with him for now and would simply tell him to have a nice couple of days.

 

[ManInTheLoft]

"I'm not asking you to do anything dirty."

Thomas doubted Pamela's words, giving a slight, derisive snort in response. She explained his task in securing a back up firearm, to which he asked a question for which he already knew the answer, "An untraceable one? Like the one you put in the hand of the man I killed?"

Pamela didn't have to answer, and she didn't. She reminded him about the hearing, and Thomas responded like a chastised child, "Yeah, yeah, I got it. Stick to the story."

Thomas opened the envelope as his new boss departed, finding a thousand dollars in hundreds. It was far more than he'd have to spend on the weapon she'd demanded, and Thomas knew Pamela knew that. The excess was obviously his first payment for being her lap dog. He wondered if on top of all this whether or not the money was dirty, too.

Despite being on paid administrative leave, Thomas made his way to the 19th Precinct. Inside, he casually avoided anyone who would question his presence there and made his way to one of the computer stations used by Patrol Officers.

He connected to the proper data base and entered one of the hundred's serial numbers. He found no flags on it or on the next four bills. But when he got to the fifth bill, Thomas found it flagged as just one of $65,000 worth of hundreds that had been taken in a bank heist six years earlier.

Only one of the robbers had been caught, killed in a fiery shoot out. Only half of the money had been recovered, though. Thomas couldn't know how Pamela had ended up with the dirty bill...

Had she played a part in the heist? Unlikely Thomas thought...

Had she busted the bank robbers and kept some of the cash, possibly over $30,000? That was possible for sure...

Or had she taken some of the recovered cash from Evidence without anyone knowing? Again, that was possible because the record Thomas had found didn't indicate whether the flagged hundred was one of the recovered or missing bills.

Thomas cleared his searches and signed out. He headed to a bar across the street popular with cops, but then just couldn't see himself drinking with his fellow officers with what was happening to him now.

He bought another bottle at the bodega and headed home to once again pass out on the couch with sports playing before him. The next morning he did as Pamela had ordered, but he swapped two of his own hundreds for the ones from the bank heist.

He walked away with a cheap but reliable Taurus .38 Special, two holsters, three Speedloaders, and two 50 round boxes of ammunition.

On the job, Thomas carried a semiautomatic Glock 17 9mm, and it had been quite a while since he'd fired a revolver. He headed straight to the Department's shooting range to practice. After some practice to get the feel of the hammer-less firearm, Thomas ran a fresh target out to the end of the handgun range.

Thomas would have put the revolver in the holster in the small of his back for realism, but the range had rules for safety: the weapon had to start either on the counter before him or in his hand. He chose the former, and with his Speedloaders in his left jacket pocket, he pressed the Advance/Medium Speed button.

The target headed back toward him at 8 miles per hour, a bit faster than an average runner jogs. He snatched up the gun and fired the five rounds in it. He quickly and simultaneously shook out the spent rounds with his right hand and pulled out one of the Speedloaders with his left.

He filled the cylinder with fresh loads, flicked the weapon closed, and fired off another five shots. He had just gotten the rounds of a second Speedloader into the revolver as the target stopped 20 feet before Thomas. With great speed, he put all five rounds inside a space the size of a half dollar, right in Mister Target's forehead.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"An untraceable one?" Thomas asked about the backup weapon Pamela wanted him to acquire. "Like the one you put in the hand of the man I killed?"

"Like the one that's gonna keep you out of jail for Second Degree Murder," she responded.

When she got back to her car, parked down the block, she asked the man sitting in the passenger seat, "Is it done?"

"Cameras and mikes in each room of his apartment," Detective Robert Cranston said as he buckled up. "Tracker in the gas tank of his car, and we're in his hands free phone system to. We can hear not just his phone calls but all of his rambling to himself or to anyone else who's in the car with him."

"Good," Pamela said. "Now we really find out whether I've got him on the hook or not."

Pamela and her partner took care of some business before she dropped him off at a bar and went home. She headed home, dropped into her favorite, deep, soft arm chair with one of her many laptops and a cold beer. She tapped in her password, then did some more tapping and swiping to bring up one of the cameras monitoring Thomas's apartment.

Switching between cameras, she finally found him moving from his bedroom to his bathroom. They hadn't been able to find an inconspicuous enough place in his bathroom to place a camera, but they could see the door and some of the floor from the camera in the hallway.

Pamela couldn't help but smile with a devilish thought as the naked man moved about his apartment, apparently preparing for the end of his day.

 

[ManInTheLoft]

If you have been following along, we have come across a different idea we are going to write. Sorry to disappoint you.