The Blue Executions (28 page)

He passed it nonchalantly; peeking at the plate.  When he saw that there were no
t New York Press plates affixed to it, he was relieved.  He didn’t know who was in the car.  He doubted internal affairs; the most likely scenario was a cop from his resident precinct.  It wouldn’t be unusual that the precinct had patrol give his apartment a
special attention
, or even a
fixed post
because of the media attention.  If there was a car there in the morning, he’d know for certain that the job had made his apartment a
fixer
.  Galvin would make sure to bring out a cup of coffee and some breakfast to his brother officer since a fixed post could not leave the location for any reason without
face to face
relief.  

Galvin parked the
rented car, retrieving Laurie’s bag from the back seat.  Walking around to the passenger door; he took her by the hand, escorting her from the car.  They walked hand in hand to Laurie’s car which had been parked the entire weekend down the block from his apartment.  When they got to the car he put her bag on the trunk.  They stood face to face and he gently took her by the shoulders, gazing from one eye to the other.  “You may not want to hear it…but get used to it.  I love you Laurie.”  He pulled her close, placing his hands on her hips and gave her a kiss.

*

Her heart beat a bit quicker.  She became suddenly aware of it beating against her chest.  It was a gentle kiss; a sweet one.  She pulled away and looked back in his eyes; they were soft and genuine.  Her heart beat even faster.  She took a breath slightly deeper than normal.  There was a lump in the throat.  Her eyes lit up and she slightly bit her lower lip before saying it.  “I love you too Tommy.”  She threw her arms around his neck and this time kissed him with a little bit more passion but was careful to keep it short.

“You sure you can’t come upstairs for a little while?”

She broke the embrace, giving him a playful slap on the chest.  “Don’t push your luck.” 

They said their goodbyes, promising to speak in the morning.  Laurie got into her
car and drove through the side streets heading toward the Long Island Expressway. 
It had been a perfect weekend.  I can’t believe that I told him I love him
.

Her heart was still beating fast.  All of the sudden she was at the most exciting point in her life.  She was getting ready to start the biggest case of her career; if all went well she would get a huge promotion and yes—she decided—she was in love with
Detective Tommy Galvin.

*

How could I have been so stupid?  Of course
—i
t all makes perfect sense now
.

Everything fell into place for Michael Underhill.  The Grand Jury was not stupid, nor were they misinformed…they were tainted.  Underhill set the binoculars down on the passenger seat next to him.  2216 hours and 52 seconds, he scribbled into a note pad. 

Underhill recognized the woman kissing Galvin as soon as he saw her.  The woman was the Assistant District Attorney standing next to Walter Dunham at the press conference.  She swayed the grand jury in the murdering cop’s favor.  Underhill considered this for a moment.  He was not sure what needed to be done.  He would have to do research.

He scribbled her license plate down in his note pad and followed
the car from a safe distance as she worked her way through the side streets.  He wondered how high the conspiracy went.  Was it just this A.D.A., or did it go all of the way up the ladder. 
The District Attorney? The Police Commissioner? The Mayor?
  He was frustrated that he would likely never learn the answer.

*

As much as Laurie Bando had enjoyed herself this weekend, she was happy to get home.  She had ignored technology, something she was practically addicted to, for three days.  She needed to first check her emails and voice messages—then maybe if time allowed a game or two of candy crush. 

She locked the door behind her and set her bag on the floor next to the couch.  She poured herself a glass of wine as she waited for her cell phone to power up.  She flipped up her laptop and signed in.  Her cell phone came to life and she saw more voicemails on her screen than she had ever seen in her life—that couldn’t be good.

*

Michael Underhill watched the woman walk into her Maspeth apartment.  Maspeth was convenient for him; it was on his way home.  He grabbed the pen from over the visor and wrote down her address.  He studied the block; it was all residential with very little street parking available.  Underhill didn’t like the houses on the block; they were all the same.  The entire block was made up of two story attached homes made of red brick.  There was no variety; that bothered him.

Underhill parked his car in front of a fire hydrant about thirty feet from the woman’s apartment.  He would only be a few moments so it would be okay, he reasoned to himself. 
Plus, I am on an official investigation
. 
Officials were allowed to park illegally for a short time on official investigations such as this.
 

Underhill noticed that Laurie had failed to check the black mailbox affixed to the wall outside of the door to the ground floor apartment.  As there had been no sign of Galvin the entire weekend, Underhill hoped that maybe the two of them had been away somewhere together for the weekend and
that her Saturday mail would still be inside.

His heart raced, just slightly, as he walked up to the door.  The metal mailbox squeaked as he opened it.  Not loudly enough for her to hear, but loud enough to make Underhill a little more uneasy.  He thumbed through the mail before closing the lid very slowly, trying to silence the squeak as he did.  He was relieved to see that while there was a decent amount of mail it had all been addressed to the same person.

Laurie Bando…A.D.A. Laurie Bando
.

Underhill listened at the door.  He was sure if there had been a dog in the apartment, it would have heard the mailbox squeak.  Noting
that there was not a dog could be important…but he wasn’t sure.  He heard the woman talking on the other side of the door.  He determined she must be on the phone as hers was the only voice that he heard.  Coupling that with the fact that only she received mail at the location, Underhill concluded she lived alone.

After making some notations on his note pad, Underhill drove around the neighborhood. There was plenty of parking alongside Maurice Park only a few blocks away; that was good to know.  His on-scene investigation having been completed, Underhill headed home.

*

He punched in the words ‘aiding and abetting New York State’ into his computer keyboard.  Underhill grew frustrated to see
that there was no such statue in New York State’s Penal Law. Some further investigation revealed they did have something called ‘
acting in concert
’.  The way he understood it, if someone committed a crime and someone else helped them, they were equally as guilty under the law.  This satisfied his ego, not grasping the concept that she had nothing to do with the incident itself.

She
had acted in concert with that murderer, Galvin.  She’s just as guilty as he is
.

It was now time to vet A
.D.A. Laurie Bando.  The first and easiest step would be to Google her, which he did.  He read her short bio from the Queens District Attorney’s website, noting she has worked in the office for seven years and graduated from Hofstra Law School.  There wasn’t much else that interested him other than the fact that she had just taken over the highly publicized case against corrupt police officer Peter Groff. 
Could she be trusted to prosecute another corrupt cop after what she did in the Galvin case?
  With jury selection set to begin this week, he decided to write a letter.

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

Chapter 15

It was not a great day to be the Chief of Department for the NYPD; in fact, it was one of the worst days in Chief Edward Courtney’s career.  He sat around the large conference table in the room that had become all too familiar to all of those who were present.  Courtney’s usual fiery and demanding traits had seemed to ebb to a more deflated one.  This was a tough day for any member of the service; regardless of rank.  Courtney also knew that he needed his best effort from everyone seated at the table.  This was not the time to break them down, but the time to call on them to help in the best way that they could.  The Mayor and the Police Commissioner demanded answers and results…and they wanted them quickly.    

Courtney took a sip of coffee from his mug.  “Ray, why don’t you begin?”

Courtney felt starting off with a success story—the only success story the department had over the eventful weekend—was the best way to begin.

Chief of Detectives Ray Santoro got up from his seat, remote control in hand.  He walked to the front of the room where the large screen television had a still photo of the large group of protesters as they assembled prior to the march.  “As I’m sure you
’re all aware, we had members of
T.A.R.U
. on the scene to video tape the march just in case an unfortunate event such as this did take place.”  He clicked the remote, the video played on the screen.  The video shot by the
T
echnical
A
ssistance
R
esponse
U
nit
was crystal clear.

As the video played on, “now pay attention to the small group at the tail end of the march; the ones all wearing the same Darrin Jackson memorial t-
shirt.”  Santoro froze the video as the men in question walked passed where the camera had been.  Most of their faces were clearly visible.

“Unfortunately, TARU followed the march and never even realized that a group of the marchers had separated from the original group and doubled back.  We are fairly confident that the same group of men you see here are the ones responsible for the ambush of the seven cops.  Thank God all of them are going to pull through, despite some pretty serious injuries.”

Santoro walked back to his seat, taking a sip of his own coffee before he continued.  “I have to tell you Eddie, this was great police work from both patrol and from the Detective Bureau to bring this case down so quickly.  It was an anonymous cop, no doubt one of Paul’s guys, who gave us our first and biggest break.”  Santoro, having felt badly for the way Courtney had treated Chief Paul Heider the last time, decided it would be nice to give Chief of Patrol Heider some accolades in front of the other chiefs.

Santoro explained, “At first it went totally unnoticed, but while the original
10-13
radio runs were still live, a unit came over the air with a license plate.  Nobody in the division really took note of it.  Once the tapes were reviewed, many hours after the incident, is when this came to light.  We ran the plate and it came back to an address in Brooklyn.  Santoro ended the video and instead displayed a New York City arrest photo of a twenty-eight year old black man named Malcolm Street.  He gave his audience a minute or two to digest the photo before continuing.  “Street had a long history of violent crimes, including robbery and weapons possession.”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I only wish we knew who the cop was that put the plate over.  He deserves a medal.  If he doesn’t think to do that, we probably don’t have this guy in custody
or even have him identified yet.”

“Our next break came at the hospital where one of our detectives went to interview Officer Stargell.  Stargell was sedated at the time but the officer noticed a strong smell of urine.  He saw the officers stained shirt and decided to swab it for DNA.  We ran it through the system and we got scumbag number two.”  He advanced to the next frame.  “Meet Lincoln
Chisolm.”

“Street and
Chisolm did time together in Elmira and both converted to Islam while in prison.  We drew up arrest warrants and search warrants for their primary residents and executed them both at six am yesterday morning.  We got them both without incident but here is where it gets interesting.  In a dresser drawer in Chisholm’s apartment, we come up with a Glock 9mm.  When we ran the gun, it came back as the gun stolen from that rookie who was jumped in the seven-five last week.”

“Finally, the DOA at the scene was one, Devon Littlefield.”  Santoro displayed the next photo.  Littlefield was wearing a New Black Panther party t-shirt when Sgt. March shot him dead.  Santoro shut the television off and walked to the head of the table, standing just to Courtney’s left.

There was complete silence in the room.  Nobody wanted to say it but everybody was thinking it.  None of the men in the room had enough time on the job to remember when the Black Liberation Army had declared an open war on cops in the early 1970’s.  Nonetheless, they were all fully aware of the violence that came with the radical group.  A silent prayer was collectively made that this was not the case.  Santoro sensed what each of them was thinking and did his best to put their minds at ease.  “The good news here is that when we collared the first few guys, they folded like a deck of cards.  These guys gave everybody up.  We collared fourteen guys throughout the day and ID’d four others who we’re looking for, including the ring leader, Malik El-Khaleel.”