The Blue Executions (29 page)

Santoro displayed his most recent arrest photo on the screen.  “He was another shithead the others met in Elmira.  It’s only a matter of time until we have them all.”

Courtney nodded his approval.  “Great job Ray.  Let your men know their work does not go unnoticed.”

Courtney retrieved his reading glasses from their case on the table.  After putting them on, he grabbed the local newspapers which lay on the table in front of him.  He glanced down at the headlines and then held them out for the room to see.  He threw them down to the center of the table before beginning.  “What the hell do we do with that
clusterfuck in the 113 on Saturday?”

He looked at Chief of Patrol Heider.  Courtney kept an even tone to his voice when he spoke.  “Paul, how the hell did that get so out of control over there?”  He shook his head before continuing.  “Did the X.O. let it get out
this far out of hand or was it out of his control.  I hate to blame it on a
white shirt
but somebody has to take responsibility for this?”

Heider was careful to choose his words before speaking.  “With all due respect Chief, I don’t think Captain Blaine is our fall guy here.  Once that van knocked the woman to the ground, there was nothing anyone of us could have done to
contain that crowd.  They became an angry mob.  The press was all over the place; they witnessed everything.  You saw all of the pictures in the newspapers.”

Courtney had.  In fact
, he saw more about this incident than any police related incident in a long time.  All three local papers had pages full of photos.  Courtney picked up one of the papers as he considered what Heider was saying; the headline—Brutality.  The photo on the front page of the paper was a split shot of the sixty-one year old grandmother as she lay on the floor after being struck by the van and the second was of her as she left the hospital; her arm in a cast.  There wasn’t even an article about the seven uniformed police officers brutally beaten until page five.  “Okay if not the executive officer then whom?”

“Lay it on the cop, boss.  He’s the one who broke the old woman’s collarbone and arm,” reasoned Heider.  Even Reverend Mitchell said that Captain Blaine was doing his best to calm the situation down.”

Courtney became annoyed.  “Reverend Mitchell.  Can anyone tell me why the Police Commissioner of the greatest city in the world gives this guy the time of day?”  He scanned the room; although the question had been rhetoric.

“The guy is no more than a race baiter and a pain in the ass to the department but ou
r PC wants
us
to kiss
his
ass.”  Courtney knew it wasn’t wise be speak publically against his boss; he just didn’t care at this point.”

Heider continued to defend his point.  “Chief, think about this.  Mitchell is sticking up for Blaine…he likes him.  He doesn’t want to see him take the fall.
  I think we need to consider staying in the good graces of the Reverend Mitchell and by extension, the Police Commissioner.”

Courtney interrupted.  “Well somebody has to
be the fall guy here!  The city isn’t going to settle for a lowly cop.  They want someone in charge to take the fall.  I spoke to the PC and the Mayor on a conference call earlier this morning.  Part of the reason for this meeting is to figure out whom.  We can blame the Commanding Officer for not cancelling his vacation with such a serious issue happening in his command.  Truth is that lazy son of a bitch was probably glad that they protested when he was on vacation.”

Heider started to feel better as it seemed the Chief of Department was actually listening to his council.  “I don’t think it will be a hard sell Chief.  Don’t forget the C.O. was put there because Reverend Mitchell specifically wanted him.  Mitchell likes both him and Blaine.  Use that to your advantage here.”

Heider grabbed the manila envelope which he’d brought with him.  He slid it across the table to Chief Courtney.  Courtney opened it revealing an eight by eleven photo of Police Officer Mark Jones.  Courtney thumbed through the pages as Heider explained.

“Mark Jones is a male white, forty-five years of age.  He has twenty
-two years on the job and has been the subject of three internal affairs investigations; all closed out as unsubstantiated.  He has also been the subject of one lawsuit for excessive force in which the city settled and paid out eight thousand dollars.  Now here is the best part.  He has eleven civilian complaints filed against him.  Of the eleven, two were substantiated—one of the two was for hurling a racial epithet.” 

Chief Heider began to feel a sense of excitement build up in the pit of his stomach.  “He’s the perfect fall guy boss.”

Ray Santoro didn’t share in Heider’s enthusiasm.  “Hold on Paul.  Don’t be so quick to throw this guy under the bus.  Is he married…does he have kids?”

Heider was reluctant to answer.  “Yeah, he’s married with three children; one in college the other two in high school.”               

Santoro shot a look to Courtney.  “Eddie you can’t do this guy like that.  He has a family and is eligible to retire.  He may have messed up or maybe he saved some cops lives by getting there as soon as he did.”

Before their boss could respond, Heider jumped in, “don’t you see Ray; that
’s why this cop is the perfect fall guy.  Not only is he white but he has a disciplinary history with racial overtones.  He’ll forfeit his pension if we fire him.  That should alleviate any community unrest.  They get their pound of flesh and we protect the
white shirts
.

Santoro didn
’t like this idea one bit; he never liked the notion of
white shirt immunity
.  He felt if a Captain or above screwed up they should pay the same price that the rest of the department would when making the same mistakes.  He was shaking his head the entire time Heider was speaking.  “Eddie, don’t tell me you’re considering this?  This cop doesn’t deserve to lose his pension…not for this.”

*

Courtney was intrigued by the idea.  “Ray, what would you like me to do?  There are videos posted on everywhere on Youtube, every news channel has aired the video of this cop running the woman down.  Did you read Doris Williams column this morning?  She made us out to be a shade better than the K.K.K.  There’s no way I can get
DCPI
to spin this one in our favor.”

Courtney picked up the phone and ordered Inspector Finch into the office.

Once Finch entered, Courtney handed him the folder.  “Give this to the
Deputy Commissioner of Public Information’s
office.  Have them discreetly leak this cop’s disciplinary history to the papers.  Tell them to start with Doris Williams; she seems to have her finger on the pulse of this story.” 

Santoro expressed his concern once more.  “You’re going to at least let him retire Eddie, aren’t you?  Any single one of us would have done the same thing to get to the scene of a brother officer fighting for his life.  We’ve all done a lot worse.”

“That’s not up to me Ray.  You know that.  First I have to sell the Mayor, the PC and of course the right old Reverend Mitchell, that we’ve found our scapegoat.  Then Jones’ fate will be up to them.”  He hesitated before continuing.  “Remember this isn’t 1986 anymore Ray.  What we did, or would have done back then, has no bearing on today’s world of policing.  There are cameras everywhere and these guys need to remember that.”

*

Santoro saw this as the cop-out that it was.  Santoro thought it was ironic to be given a lecture on the NYPD’s history.  This was all about the history to him; each man in the room was on the job during the Crown Heights riots and the Washington Heights riots.  He knew that the city would be sure to avoid a repeat in history at any cost.  He was saddened to know that by nightfall, Police Officer Mark Jones will have worked his last tour as a full duty New York City Police Officer.  His guns and shield will be removed, never to be used again.  He’ll have a trial date six months down the line but the trial will simply be a formality.  Termination will be his reward for twenty-two years of service to the NYPD.

Chief of Detectives Ray Santoro looked on as Chief Courtney removed his glasses; placing them down on top of the pile of newspapers.  Courtney looked tired, he thought.  He noticed the dark circles under Courtney’s reddened eyes.  He clearly he hadn’t gotten a great deal of sleep over the weekend. 
None of us have
.  His neatly clipped mustache and far receding hairline even appeared more gray than usual.  Santoro recognized a look of despair from a man he has known for thirty years.  “Ray, please tell me we have something new to go on with these cop killings.”

I wish to God I did
.  Santoro hated to let Courtney down, especially knowing the seriousness of the case.  “Sorry boss, nothing new to report.  In all three homicides, spent .38 caliber slugs have been recovered from the scene or from the deceased officer’s body.  Every last round has absolutely no rifling marks on it.  We can make the case that because we have never seen this before the same gun must have been used but a good defense attorney can easily poke holes in that.  Juries like facts, not speculation.”

Santoro watched as Courtney ran his hand through what was left of his hair, grabbing a handful.  He stood up, turning his body from the table.  With his back to Santoro and the rest of the chiefs, Courtney stared blankly at the wall.  “Do we have anything to go on at all Ray?  Cops are getting killed out there.  I’m hearing whispers that the unions are going to start getting involved too.”

Santoro shook his head ever so slightly.  “We’re doing our best Eddie.  We’re cross referencing all of Long, Tatum and Garret’s arrests and civilian complaints to see if they all came across the same perp at different points in their careers.  Hell, we are even looking into their personal lives to see if they ever banged the same woman.  Unfortunately, the only thing we can find in common is the fact that they all killed somebody in the line of duty under questionable circumstances.”

The room grew quiet as the men pondered the implications.  They had all thought it, but now that it was
put out there for the first time it seemed to make it more real; more frightening.

“A
God damn vigilante!”  Santoro could hear the disdain in Courtney’s voice.  “We have some scumbag vigilante out there preying on our own men.  That’s just unbelievable.”

Courtney took off his uniform blazer, hanging over his chair.  He unclipped the tie from around his neck; allowing it to fall over—being held on to his uniform shirt only by a tie clasp.  He unbuttoned his top button and sat back down.  “We have to get moving on this.  I don’t want this out there.  The incident in the 113 will keep the cop killings off the front pages for a little while, but they‘re still writing about it.  The reporters are speculating that the
killings are related to the ambush.  Let them keep thinking that.  It buys us a little more time but we have to catch this guy…and soon.”

“Eddie, what are we doing about Detective Galvin?  If we
are
right, the Grand Jury decision just put him in this mad man’s crosshairs.”

Courtney agreed.  “Okay Ray, I want you to contact the threat assessment unit.  Get the paperwork done and have hi
m assigned indefinitely to employee relations.  Not only does that mean he doesn’t have to report to work, but it also gives us another sacrificial lamb for Reverend Mitchell.  He’ll be happy to see Galvin transferred out of the precinct.”

Always the damn politician,
Santoro thought to himself.  “No problem Eddie.”

“Paul, I want you to have two
uniforms sit on his house twenty-four/seven
.  Make it
a fixed post with face to face relief
.  I also want a sector sent to his apartment right now.  Make sure that he knows that he is not to report to work until further notice.  Have them bring him a department radio from his resident precinct, this way if anything happens he can call for help directly.”

Chief of Patrol Heider immediately picked up the telephone which sat on the desk in front of him.  “Yes sir.”

Just as the Chiefs of Police seemed to be making progress, they got an unwelcomed pair of visitors.  Santoro was familiar with Brian McGregor; he didn’t know who the other man was.  Santoro guessed him to be in his late forties and seemed every bit the dresser that Santoro was.  He wore a navy blue Armani suit with light blue pin striping and an Emilio Pucci, pale blue tie. 
He sure knows how to dress.

Santoro felt the suit did wonders to flatter the man who was at least thirty pounds overweight.  The man introduced himself as John Pantangelo.  He shook Courtney’s hand first then everyone else’s, but his hazel eyes were anything but cordial if Santoro read
them correctly.

Santoro quickly dismissed the man from his mind when he saw the letter in McGregor’s hand. 
Not again
.  Pantangelo was straight to the point.  He let it be known that he was the executive editor at the newspaper and had not been aware about the prior letters.  He was making it clear that tomorrow’s front page would feature the exclusive story as well as the letters from the Blue Executioner.

The dialogue went back and forth between Courtney and Pantangelo, with an occasional interjection from Brian McGregor.  To Santoro
, it was all white noise.  He could care less about the pissing match between the top uniformed member of the department and the executive editor at a newspaper…the only thing concerning him was what was in the letter that Brian McGregor held in his hand.  He noted McGregor was wearing latex gloves, so there was no doubt in his mind that it was from the killer.