The Blue Executions (8 page)

It was probably a large-scale conspiracy
, from his candidate investigator at the Applicant Investigation Unit, to the psychologist, all the way up to the Police Commissioner. Once they came to their senses, they’d realize that his superior intellect would greatly benefit the department and they would overturn his disqualification on appeal. He was told that this process could take up to a year or more, so he had decided to fight crime with a different approach while he waited.

He turned the pages of the scrapbook, examining the many articles that he’d cut out since then.
The articles all involved cops—either cops receiving various accolades or cops who had been arrested or indicted. It was deplorable—since he’d begun to cut out the articles less than two years ago—dozens of cops had been arrested in New York City. He had followed each and every case as carefully as he could through the newspapers, accessing the New York State Courts system web page and even on occasion, going to the courthouse to watch the legal proceedings in person.

He thumbed through the book until he came to the article concerning Police Officer Daniel Long’s arrest and indictment on charges of murder in 2010.
He glanced at the photo of Long, accompanying the article. He hadn’t changed a bit—at least, up until last night, when Underhill had snuffed out his life with three cop-killer bullets at close range. Underhill felt no remorse. Long did not deserve to be a police officer. Furthermore, anyone who would shoot an unarmed youth to death under the guise of being a police offer did not deserve to live. Underhill hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when he’d read the follow-up article in 2012, detailing how Officer Long had been acquitted of all charges during a bench trial.

The judge who presided over the case had state
d that although the youth was unarmed at the time he’d been shot, Officer Long had every reason to believe that he’d been armed with a gun. He cited that a robbery victim had pointed out the youth as the male who’d just robbed him at gunpoint. When Officer Long had approached the youth, he’d turned on him with his hand in his pocket. Officer Long, believing the male to be armed, feared for his own life and fired his gun in self defense.

Self defense, what a joke
?  The kid was unarmed.  Long was never in danger.  Self defense is when you are in danger.

The Judge had surmised that while it was tragic that a young man had lost his life, Officer Long had acted to preserve his own life.
It had been justifiable homicide—and thus rendered a not guilty verdict.

Underhill had been in
as much shock as reading the words in the newspaper the next day as he was while watching the verdict unfold live in the courtroom. He remembers watching as Long hugged his lawyer and then his wife; he watched as the murderer walked away, a free man, literally getting away with murder—until last night, that is.

Underhill put the articles concerning Long’s murder on the page
of the scrapbook he had reserved for it—right next to the article about Long’s acquittal. He then opened his diary to yesterday’s date.  Directly under the entry regarding Police Officer John Casey he transcribed:

March 22, 2013
---2341 hours and 27 seconds

Rogue
Cop Daniel Long Executed

It woul
dn’t have bothered Underhill so much if Long had been convicted. He knew that Long wouldn’t have gotten the death penalty—although he felt he deserved to — but for the murder to go unpunished was not acceptable. He turned his attention to the back of the diary and crossed Daniel Long’s name off a list entitled “
Murderous Cops Awaiting Execution
.” It was not a long list—comprised of four names, all belonging to cops who had been arrested and acquitted at trial (or who had failed to be indicted when they should have) within the last few years.

He turned his attention back to the scrapbook and sought out the article which concerned the next name on the list—Christopher Tatum.
He read the article to refresh his memory, although he knew the details inside out—Tatum had also been acquitted of murder charges. The man he’d murdered had died of asphyxiation after Tatum had applied a chokehold on him. Once again, the judge had ruled in the cop’s favor, claiming that there had been a violent struggle and citing the evidence of injuries suffered by the officer. Underhill couldn’t understand how this officer could brutally murder a man being arrested for a simple assault. The law had decided not to punish him, but no matter; Underhill would ensure that Tatum did not go unpunished.

Underhill glanced over at the article written by McGregor yet again, lamenting that he could not put the officers that had been written about in his
‘
hero
’ column. He liked to keep track of all officers—good and bad. Underhill had been reading McGregor’s column for years, and found him tough but fair. Underhill estimated that, over the years, McGregor had published an equal amount of favorable and unfavorable articles regarding the police—proving that he was unbiased and leading Underhill to believe that McGregor would believe in his own theories.

Underhill put on a pair of thin latex gloves before opening the legal pad that he’d bought the day before.
The snug fit on the latex irritated his skin, but he was well aware it was necessary to avoid leaving fingerprints or DNA on the note or envelope. He wrote the date on the upper right hand corner of the page and addressed it to Brian McGregor. He first expressed his admiration of McGregor’s honesty and unbiased opinions of the Police Department. He then explained how cops who turn themselves into murderers betray the trust that the public has placed on them, as well as the oath of office that they had sworn to uphold. They, therefore, must be held to a higher level of accountability than a civilian. He went on to explain that PO Casey, who had recently lost his life, was a hero for all other officers to emulate—he’d given his life for the city he’d sworn to protect. Daniel Long, on the other hand, was a cold-blooded murderer who was never punished for his crimes.  He chose his words carefully before putting pen to paper.

I am not proud of the actions that I was forced to take but I do deem them necessary. I’m sure you will agree. We must rid our society of these evil men, who hide behind the shields of New York City Police Officers to escape punishment for crimes that they’ve committed. My mission has only just begun. I am aware that the true heroes of the police department will be looking for me as they do not realize the importance of my mission. I am not the type of person they habitually arrest, however. I am far intellectually superior to anyone they have ever dealt with. I shall leave no clue behind. Mr. McGregor, I would like you to feel free to print this letter verbatim. With hope, it may serve as a deterrent to those who think of crossing the line. My mission is not one of revenge—this, you must understand. My goal is to clean up the NYPD and deter any cops from engaging in criminal activity. Once my vision is realized, all who did not agree with or understand my methods will see the error of their ways. They will understand what I have achieved. I will write to you again, in the near future, after I have eliminated my next target.

Sincerely,

The Blue Executioner.

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

C
hapter 5

Chief of Department
Edward Courtney stood at the head of the conference table. He was sorting quietly through the numerous reports that he’d been given in regards to the prior night’s murder of Police Officer Daniel Long. Courtney looked around the table; the rest of the hierarchy had appeared for the nine a.m. meeting. After removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes and stood without saying a word. Everyone seated at the table watched with baited breath as the highest-ranking uniformed officer paced the floor silently—they were awaiting him to bark out instructions, some sort of order. Everyone in the police department knew of Courtney’s reputation. He was a demanding leader, who often demanded answers and results before it was feasible to have any. As the highest ranking member of the department, he had to answer only the police commissioner—everyone else had to answer to him.

The fourteenth floor conference room
, adjacent to the Police Commissioner’s office at Police Headquarters, was completely silent—an ominous feeling in the air.  The highly polished conference table was large enough to easily seat over twenty people; less than half the chairs were occupied. Although the chairs were made of fine leather, nobody in the room was comfortable.  Nothing was being said as they sat there, but nobody would dare look on the wall where a live stream of over thirty sights across New York City was being broadcast, nor would they look at the televisions on the opposite wall tuned to local and national news stations.  They would sit there in silence until the situation dictated otherwise.  These were men, each of whom had at least twenty-five years experience with the NYPD and were selected by the Police Commissioner, himself, for their position.  None of that mattered right now, as they were at the mercy of the Chief of Department.         

Courtney stopped pacing and stood by his chair.
Over his shoulder could be seen the emblem of the five star shield of the Police Commissioner on the wall.  At six foot, three inches tall, he was taller than everyone in the room.  With everyone else seated at the conference table and him standing, it made the height difference that much more disparaging.  His brown eyes methodically moved from one person to the next until he’d stared directly into every pair of eyes in the room. His narrow face reddened as the eerie silence continued.

“Gentlemen,” he began, his voice a low rumble, “
we have a dead cop on our hands. He wasn’t shot while interrupting a drug deal, or while breaking up an armed robbery…he was executed.  And I want to know why and by whom. I will not tolerate incompetence in this investigation. I want answers. Not these bullshit reports you’ve insulted me with so far!” scolded Courtney as he slammed his fist down on top of the reports which he’d just read through.

“I don’t give a shit about canvasses if nobody saw anything.
I don’t want to read more reports that tell me somebody heard three gunshots but saw nothing! I already know there were three gunshots. Officer Long’s skull can bear testimony to that. I want to see reports that tell me something I don’t know—like who killed Officer Long—and why! Is that understood!?”  Each of the chiefs of police in attendance dropped their eyes, looking down at their notes in front of them regarding the cop killing.

Nobody
dared to say a word. They all avoided looking directly at the enraged Chief of Department and just slightly nodded their heads in agreement; most thumbing through the case file. The first one to meet Courtney’s eyes was the Chief of Patrol, Joseph Heider.  He was newly assigned to the position and didn’t know Courtney as well as the rest of the
Superchiefs
did.  Everyone in the room, who knew Courtney, knew better than to look him in the eye when he was on a rampage.  They knew once Courtney caught Heider’s eyes, he wasn’t going to release them until he was good and ready.

“Chief Heider,” Courtney began.
“Can you tell me why my officer was executed?”

“No, sir, I cannot.”

“Can you tell me what the motive was?”

“No, sir.”

“Chief Heider, you are the Chief of Patrol, are you not?” Courtney said, his face growing red with anger; a sharp contrast against his white hair.

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“Officer Long was assigned to patrol, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, Chief Heider, can you tell me what you are doing to aid in the investigation of the execution of one of your men?” demanded Courtney.

The atmosphere in the room was tense.
  Courtney continued to lash out at Heider, who couldn’t possibly have any satisfactory answers for him. The rest of the men felt bad for Heider; nevertheless, they were definitely glad that it wasn’t them getting chewed out.

“Well, sir,” began Heider, attempting a feeble excuse. “I just became aware of the details of the case about three hours ago. I haven’t had much time to do anything yet, and I was awaiting your instructions.”

“That’s not good enough!
One of our men…one of
your
men has been murdered, and I want to know why.”

“Yes, sir,” said Heider in a barely audible voice.
It was demeaning for Heider, a thirty-year veteran and a well respected member of the department, to be scolded in such a manner—it was as though he was a schoolboy being detained after class. If there was anything positive to come from the confrontation, it was that Heider now knew to avoid eye contact with Courtney when he was angry.

“Chief Heider,” Courtney b
egan.  His mood softened. “I want you to look into every arrest Officer Long ever effected or assisted in. I want you to find out if he was ever the recipient of any kind of threat as a result of an arrest. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Courtney then turned his attention over to Robert O’Keefe, the Chief of Inspectional Services and all internal affairs.