The Blue Executions (12 page)

Tatum reached into the open passenger side window to hand the supervisor his memo book.  In his concern
over the issue of the knife, Tatum never noticed the man withdraw the revolver from his waistband.  By the time Police Officer Christopher Tatum noticed the gun, it was already too late.  Two cop killer bullets ripped through his skull, ending his life instantly.

*

The cop’s lifeless body fell to the ground on Linden Boulevard, less than a block away from where he had taken his last official act as a New York City Police Officer.  Underhill slowly drove away from the scene.  Looking back in the rear view mirror, he could see the blood pooling around the dead cop’s head.  His body laid half on the sidewalk and half in the gutter.  Underhill looked down at the clock to note it was 2348 hours and 13 seconds. 

Something else caught Underhill’s attention when he looked at the clock; Officer Tatum’s leather binder had fallen on the front passenger seat.  Underhill considered this as he
continued west on Linden Boulevard, heading back toward Bay Ridge.  After driving for almost two miles, Underhill turned onto a side street, pulled over to the curb and exited the car.  He studied the residential homes, scanning for any possible home surveillance cameras.  Not seeing any, he removed the stolen license plate with the magnetic frame from the rear, uncovering his real license plate.  He placed the stolen plate in his trunk; looking down at it. 
I bet the dealership I took this from has no idea it’s even missing.

His plan was ingenious, he thought.  First
ly, his car is the same make and model as unmarked police cars, so cops are not going to stop him.  Secondly, by attaching the dealer plates over his own, if there were any witnesses or cameras on the store fronts, they would capture the fake plate number, not his.  He would snake his way for another mile or two using only side streets, wanting to avoid any cops going to the scene of the execution.

Underhill traveled through the backstreet of the Sunset Park area of Brooklyn until he saw a mailbox on the corner of a residential neighborhood.  He pulled over at the corner and reached into his glove box.  He removed a pair
of latex gloves from the glove box, put them on, and then removed the letter which he had written earlier in the day, from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.  The execution had gone off without a hitch and he was sure that Brian McGregor would be happy to be receiving another letter from him.

He glanced back at Tatum’s memo book.  Struck with a brilliant, yet sinister idea, he examined the memo book. 
He removed it from its leather binder and momentarily studied it.  He had never seen one outside of the black binder before.  It was light blue with a dark blue spine and three holes on top allowing it to be put in the binder.  In the upper center were the words City of New York, directly below in bold blue lettering POLICE DEPARTMENT.  There was a serial number in the upper right hand corner—but most importantly to Underhill there was a caption—
Name
.  Next to it, the handwritten words
Christopher P. Tatum
.

Underhill carefully
slipped Tatum’s memo book inside the preaddressed envelope along with the letter to Brian McGregor.  After sealing it, he got out of the car and placed it in the mailbox.  If there was any doubt to the authenticity of the Blue Executioner, this would, without a doubt satisfy any and all skeptics. He crossed the street with the remainder of the leather binder, dropping it into a sewer.  He removed the latex gloves and put them in his pocket.

He felt good about himself as he got back into his car.  He studied his reflection in the rear view mirror.  He liked what he saw.  Underhill adjusted his tie before throwing the car into gear.  He looked at the seat next to him; a small amount of blood.  He would clean it as soon as he got home.  Underhill kept to the back streets as he headed back to his Bay Ridge apartment with the satisfaction of a
nother job well done.

############################

Chapter 7

Detective Second Grade, Jack Kuhn reached for a cup of water from his position on the witness stand.  Kuhn was a skilled witness and had testified hundreds of times during his twenty-four years on the New York City Police Department.  He carefully listened to the questions posed him by Assistant District Attorney Laurie Bando.  He would not rush into any answer but instead took his time to consider the question before answering.  Detective Kuhn, having been on the stand for over two hours now, sensed he was nearly finished as A.D.A. Bando began her redirect examination of him.

“Detective Kuhn, can you please once again tell the court when you and your Lieutenant placed the defendant, Police Officer Peter Groff, under arrest, the circumstances that led to the recovery of the half kilo of cocaine?”

Kuhn glanced at Peter Groff who sat at the wooden defense table on his right along with his defense attorney.  Kuhn adjusted his floral print tie, the pink roses matching the shirt under his grey suit perfectly.  “As I previously explained, after obtaining a warrant from the court, I had a wiretap placed on Officer Groff’s home telephone as well as his cell phone.”

The case against Peter Groff was personal for Jack Kuhn.  Although Kuhn was currently assigned to the Internal Affairs Bureau, he had worked the majority of his career as a detective in the Brooklyn North Homicide Squad.  A career street cop and detective such as Kuhn under normal circumstances, would have never have considered working for Internal Affairs.  There was a certain stigma that would follow you around the rest of your career if you worked in any unit that investigated fellow police officers.

Kuhn’s attitude toward the Internal Affairs Bureau had changed about two years ago.  While he was investigating the murder of a uniformed police officer who had seemingly walked in on the middle of a large scale narcotics transaction, Kuhn developed information from a
Confidential Informant.
  The information which the
C.I
. passed on to Kuhn at first made him go into denial; then outrage.  The word on the street was that the officer had been shot once in the head at close range by an off-duty New York City Police Officer who was trying to unload ten ounces of pure heroin on a Brownsville street corner.

There was some evidence to support the claim
as well.  It appears that the slain officer never made an attempt to draw his service weapon, which many believe is an indication that the officer either knew his killer or he didn’t feel threatened by him in any way.  Secondly, the bullet which ended the officer’s life came from a 9mm, just like the one Officer Groff and thousands of other NYPD cops used.  What made Groff stand out from the rest of the cops who carry a 9mm, is that Groff reported his service weapon stolen during the commission of a burglary at his home the very next day.

Without having Groff’s service weapon, Kuhn
couldn’t have it compared to the ballistic evidence found at the scene of the officer’s homicide. Kuhn knew without the critical ballistic evidence to link Groff to the cop killing, prosecuting him for the murder wouldn’t be likely.  Frustrated that he would never be charged in the officer’s homicide, Kuhn decided that he would go after Groff for any and all charges that he could.  He dutifully reported the allegations of drug dealing to the Internal Affairs Bureau.  Having been immediately invited to accept a transfer to Internal Affairs to assist in the case, Kuhn wasted no time in declining the offer.

A number of factors came together which ultimately changed his mind; there was the promise of Detective First Grade if there was a successful prosecution of Police Officer Groff.  Less than
two hundred members of the department held that rank, which many consider to be the most prestigious rank within the department.  The other major factor was the fact that the C.I. refused to cooperate with any of the other detectives and supervisors.  The bosses at Internal Affairs would not let Kuhn handle the C.I. unless he was assigned to their unit.  Kuhn was told in no uncertain terms, that the only way in which he could remain a part of the investigation was to accept a transfer to Internal Affairs.

Kuhn felt as any other cop would
feel that Groff needed to go to prison.  Justice may never be served for the officer who was brutally gunned down, but Kuhn would honor the slain officer’s memory as best he could.  He would do this by putting the drug dealing piece of trash that hid behind a badge in prison for as long as possible.  Once Kuhn was officially transferred, the case began to take shape quickly.  He built his case with a solid foundation and made sure that there were no loopholes for Groff to slip through.  As he sat on the witness stand, Kuhn was confident that this was the case of his career and Detective First Grade was just around the corner.

Kuhn looked back at Bando and then over to the Judge seated to his immediate right.  “After gathering enough evidence from the wiretaps, I had enough probable cause to have an arrest warrant drawn up and endorsed by the Honorable Judge Bolten.  The warrant charged the defendant, Peter Groff, with conspiracy to distribute narcotics; to wit cocaine and heroin, money laundering and racketeering.”

He stared deliberately at Groff
as he continued, “When Lieutenant Suarez and I went to execute the warrant; the defendant was downstairs in the locker room changing into his uniform.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Detective Kuhn.  How was the defendant dressed when you first encountered him that afternoon?” Bando inquired.

“He was wearing his uniform shirt and about to put on his uniform pants.”

Bando shook her head, letting Kuhn’s testimony settle in.  “So he was wearing a shirt and no pants; he was in his underwear.  Is that correct?

“Yes it is.”

“He was not fully clothed as the defense council has suggested?”

Kuhn shook his head and gave a slight smile.  “No ma’am.  He was not.”

Bando shot an accusing stare at the defense attorney.  Had she done this in the presence of a jury, they would have surely gotten her message.  “Thank you detective, please continue.”

He did.

“When I first encountered the defendant, he was standing next to his locker; it was wide open as he was getting dressed.  Lt. Suarez and I walked over to him, identified ourselves and informed the defendant that he was under arrest.  As I stood directly in front of his locker and was placing him in handcuffs, I observed on the floor of his locker, an unzipped duffle bag with what appeared to be a substantial amount of cocaine inside.” 

Kuhn took a sip of water before he continued.  “At that point the defendant became agitated.  He kicked at the locker in an attempt to slam it shut and yelled at us to just arrest him and get him out of here.  He said that we were embarrassing him and then he tried to walk away from his locker.”

Bando
tilted her head and narrowed her eyebrows as if she were confused. 
More banter
, thought Kuhn.

Bando led the question just as they had rehearsed in preparation for the hearing.  “You state
that he started to walk away.  Did he ask if he could put his pants on first?”

“No, he did not.  He tried to walk away from the locker in nothing more than his boxer shorts.  He yelled at us; demanding
that we get this over with and remove him from the precinct.  That was when I opened the locker and recovered the duffle bag containing the cocaine as well as two nine millimeter handguns.”

Bando paced across the courtroom; her short spiked heels echoing
on the floors.  Bando glanced down at her notes.  Kuhn momentarily caught himself staring at how nicely the navy blue skirt hugged the prosecutor’s hips as she walked past the witness box.  He quickly looked away hoping the middle-aged court reporter, seated only feet in front of him, hadn’t noticed his indiscretion.

Bando looked up from her notes and continued her query of the witness.  “Now Detective Kuhn, on your direct testimony, you stated that Peter Groff did not have these guns registered to him through the police department or anywhere else for that matter.  Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, can you tell the court, what if anything else you learned about those guns during the course of your investigation?”

Before Kuhn could answer; “Objection your Honor!  That’s hearsay,
” bellowed Joseph Schilling; slamming a fist down on the defense table.  Schilling was known as a skilled defense attorney and Kuhn felt Laurie Bando would have her work cut out for her going up against Schilling.  Kuhn shot the court reporter a smile which she returned as he waited for the Judge’s ruling.

“Save your theatrics for the trial Mr. Schilling,” the Judge instructed.  “Your objection is overruled; I’m sure
that I don’t need to remind you that hearsay is admissible for hearings.”

Schilling nodded in agreement.  “Yes
Your Honor.”

The Judge turned toward Kuhn and gave his instructions.  “You may answer the question Detective.”

From where he sat on the witness stand it was clear to him that Peter Groff was upset by the question.  Kuhn noticed Groff’s eyes narrow; waiting for Kuhn’s response.  Kuhn would let him wait a moment longer before answering.  He studied Groff; he looked like a typical young police officer.  He had short, spiked brown hair and was clean shaven.  His features were boyish until one looked into his eyes—they were far harder than any police officer’s eyes that Kuhn had ever seen before.

“Thank you, Your Honor.  After a ballistics test, I learned that one of the guns, the Glock model 19, serial number ALYZ-415407, had been used in a
drug related homicide in the Redfern housing projects in Far Rockaway, Queens.”

Bando appeared to Kuhn to be happy with the way the hearing was progressing.  “I just have a few more quick questions for you, Detective?”  She smiled at him.  “When you went over to Peter Groff’s locker, did you intend on searching it?”

He shook his head.  “No, I did not.”

“So why did you then seize evidence from it without first obtaining a search warrant?”

Kuhn began to explain, “The cocaine and guns were in plain view in an unzipped duffle bag on the floor of the opened locker.  Once I see contraband I have the authority to seize it.”

“And once again if you would remind the court who was with you at the time the property was seized.”

“I was with Lieutenant Michael Suarez, my supervisor.”

Bando glanced at the Judge, seeming to make sure he was paying attention.  “When you say that Lieutenant Suarez was your supervisor, would it be also fair to say that as a Lieutenant
, he would also be a legal custodian to police department property; such as a locker?”

“Yes he would.”

“So then as a legal custodian and a police supervisor, would he have the right to inspect a locker without a search warrant?”

Judge Bolton was quick to interject as Kuhn began to nod his head in the affirmative.  “Don’t answer that detective.”  He looked at A.D.A. Bando.  “I believe that is what I
’m here to decide, is it not Ms. Bando?”

The Judge made his point but so did Bando
.  Kuhn felt the hearing went extremely well.  He looked back at A.D.A. Bando waiting for the next question; “Thank you detective Kuhn.  Your Honor, I have no further questions.  The people rest.”

Judge Bolton turned his head toward the defense table.  “Mr. Schilling, would you like to re-cross the witness?”

“No Judge; for the purposes of this
MAPP hearing
only, the defense rests.  But I would like to note for the record, that the prosecution could have called in a ballistics expert to testify as to what exactly he did as far as a ballistics comparison.  The defense has a standing objection to Detective Kuhn’s answer to that particular question and would like to make a motion for it to be stricken from the record.”

Judge Bolton was clearly unmoved by the standing objection; he removed his glasses from his round face and placed them on the bench in front of him. 
He scratched his head, slightly mussing what was left of his salt and pepper hair.  He spoke almost in a condescending tone, his drooping jowls shaking as he did. Your objection is noted Mr. Schilling.”

He picked
up a pen and made a notation before addressing Kuhn.  “The witness is excused.  You may step down Detective.”

Kuhn stepped
down from the witness box. He placed a hand on the wooden railing in front of the fourteen empty chairs where the members of the jury normally sit. 
Next time I’m in this courtroom, those chairs will be occupied,
he observed
.

He slowly pushed open the swinging gate
, separating the participants of a trial from the galley.  The wooden benches—which strongly resembled church pews—were almost all vacant.  There were four people in the front row—all relatives of the defendant.  The day the trial begins every seat will be taken; Kuhn had no doubt about that.

Hearing the judge begin to render his decision, Kuhn slowed down his pace considerably.  The last thirty feet, leading to the large double doors at the courtroom’s exit, would be walked at a snail’s pace so
that he could hear every word.

“After careful consideration, and having heard testimony and evidence from the witness, I find him to be credible and his testimony sound.  Furthermore, the locker is the property of the New York City Police Department, of which
Lieutenant Michael Suarez is a legal custodian.  The evidence was seized in good faith and within the guidelines of the law.  The motion to suppress the evidence is denied.”

Kuhn felt satisfied as he pushed open one of the heavy double doors, exiting the courtroom.  He knew, just as any other seasoned cop did, of Schilling’s reputation as a top defense attorney.  But he also knew that the toughest part of the case would be the suppression hearing.  Kuhn felt
that the evidence was overwhelming against Groff.  With the hearing now behind them, Kuhn felt real good about their chances of a conviction.  The district attorney seemed more than competent—in fact she was as capable as any he had seen throughout his career.