Garrett had, as promised, sworn on the record to IAD that he had seen Boone slip on the ice and that the incident was unequivocally an accident. He had gone on to testify that Boone was the finest young officer he had ever worked with, that he knew him to be a man of character and integrity, and that he was anything but the type of public servant who would intentionally harm an arrestee.
That was all well and good until the dash cam revealed the lie. To their credit, according to Boone’s department-assigned defender, IAD investigators stipulated that the recording had impugned only Fox and not Drake. While the female officer said she had seen the incident and corroborated Fox’s account, eyewitnesses, especially the noisy middle-aged woman, told an entirely different story.
The female cop was in no trouble because nothing could prove that she did not have the vantage point she claimed. But Boone realized, short of a miracle, he didn’t know how in the world he could prove his story.
The Internal Affairs Division was to conclude its investigation with this final hearing at police headquarters downtown, at which Freddy himself would testify. He was suing the department and the city for more than a million dollars.
Boone, too, had been given his day in court. “Is it not true,” one of the panelists had said, “that at the time of the arrest you were heard to threaten, and I quote, ‘to put one between your eyes,’ speaking to the arrestee?”
Boone had hesitated. “I believe we threatened that as a last resort, yes.”
“We,” the moderator said, “meaning you and your partner, or you, Officer Drake?”
“Regardless which of us said it, we communicate as one. And we are trained to use verbal commands to help subdue anyone resisting arrest.”
“Did you or did you not threaten to shoot the offender between the eyes?”
“We did.”
“Again I ask, we or you?”
“That’s all I care to say, sir.”
Now, as Boone sat waiting with his counsel, he was running through his mind the Scripture reference that had been displayed on Haeley Lamonica’s desk outside Jack Keller’s office. Am I seeking you with all my heart? he prayed silently. I want to, I really do, and I don’t want it to be because my job is on the line.
And his job was on the line. It was likely that Garrett Fox would be fired for lying under oath. While there was huge sentiment within the Chicago PD supporting an officer for standing up for his partner, the video had been shown ad nauseam on the local news, and the public had plainly made up its mind. In every poll, the citizenry wanted Fox gone. Most assumed Boone guilty as well.
“What should I have done?” Garrett said to the press and TV news teams. “Supported the eyewitnesses’ accounts? Fine, I didn’t see what happened. But I know Boone Drake, and there’s no way he abused the arrestee.”
Now, waiting for the final hearing to be called to order, Boone was certain from the look on his counsel’s face that all was lost. The man didn’t even try to encourage him. Freddy would soon drive the last nail in his coffin. Boone turned at the sound of the door opening and was moved to see that Garrett Fox was there—looking peeved—as were the female cop, Jack Keller, and Francisco Sosa. Boone feared they had all come to see his end.
Being there was way above and beyond the call of duty for Pastor Sosa, given that Boone was no longer an active member of his church. Sosa had explained that he saw something in Boone, something worth fighting for, but Boone couldn’t understand it. In truth he felt pressured that a man as busy as Sosa spent so much time trying to woo him back to God.
Freddy was on his way in, limping painfully even with the aid of a walker, his face puffy and red and bearing a jagged scar from which stitches apparently had only recently been removed. Was it possible that besides losing his job, Boone could also be prosecuted for assault—even attempted murder?
Freddy and his counsel—a local ambulance chaser known to most as Fast Eddie—sat at a table across the aisle, and as Boone peeked at him, the injured man glared. He looked ready.
The IAD panel whispered among themselves, and during the lull before opening, Boone felt a tap on his shoulder. Francisco Sosa handed him a sheet of paper and retreated. Boone laid it in his lap and quietly unfolded it.
At the top Sosa had written, Praying for you. This is for today. Beneath that were lyrics from an old hymn. And at the bottom is a passage to look up later, no matter what happens. It’s the Scripture the hymn was based on.
Fear not, I am with you, O be not dismayed,
For I am your God, and will still give you aid;
I’ll strengthen you, help you, and cause you to stand,
Upheld by my gracious, omnipotent hand.
When through the deep waters I call you to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;
For I will be with you, your troubles to bless,
And sanctify to you your deepest distress.
When through fiery trials your pathways shall lie,
My grace, all-sufficient, shall be your supply;
The flame shall not hurt you; I only design
Your dross to consume, and your gold to refine.
The soul that on Jesus still leans for repose,
I will not, I will not desert to his foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no, never, no, never forsake!
What was it with Pastor Sosa and the Bible and hymns and their constant references to trials as fire? Was that supposed to be comforting to Boone? All it did was remind him of the pain and horror of his loss, though he tried to glean something meaningful from it too. He wanted to believe that God would be with him throughout this and would never forsake him, but he still hated that Nikki and Josh had been through fire, and that it had done way more than hurt them or refine their gold or consume their dross, whatever that meant.
Boone held his breath as Freddy made his way to the witness chair. The panel asked for his full name and his account of the incident, from arrest to injury.
“Name’s Fredrick A. Macintosh, and I was drunk. I’m not disputin’ that. The bartender cut me off, and I was mad. I pulled my knife and threatened him. He got on the phone, and I knew he was callin’ the police. I was trying to reach him over the bar, and I could tell I had him scared. When the cops showed up, I raised that knife on ’em, but I wasn’t gonna throw it. I know better’n that. They woulda shot me, and the one even said so.”
“Which one?” a panelist said.
Freddy pointed at Garrett Fox, sitting in the back. “You can make all kinds of jokes about how loaded I was and how I shouldn’t be able to remember any of this, but b’lieve me, I do. When somebody threatens to put one between your eyes, you remember. Like I remember the other one, this guy Drake here, ’bout cuttin’ me in two with the car door.”
“If I may?” Boone’s lawyer said, standing. “Mr. Macintosh, is it your testimony that you remember every detail of exactly how you suffered your injuries?”
“Absolutely.”
“You understand that Officer Boone Drake remembers it otherwise?”
“He saying he didn’t do it?”
“No, he’s stipulated what happened. But his contention is that he slipped on the ice and that it was entirely an accident, that there was no malicious intent.”
“Yeah, well, I know Drake. We’ve had our run-ins before. Same with Fox.”
“Has there ever been another incident where either of these officers has treated you with anything but respect?”
One of the panelists said, “Let me interrupt here. Mr. Macintosh, you should answer this question as it relates solely to Officer Boone Drake. Officer Garrett Fox’s conduct is not under examination at this particular hearing.”
“Ever had any problems with Drake? Is that what you’re asking me?”
“Correct.”
“Matter of fact, I haven’t. He always treated me just right, the way he should. I know who I am and what I am, and there
are a lot of cops who like to knock me around. I’m not really a threat to anybody, even with my knife. Nobody needs to be mean to me.”
“But it’s your testimony that this time, for some reason, Officer Drake changed the way he treated you?”
“Look at me.”
“There’s no question you were severely injured, Mr. Macintosh. The question is whether it was intentional on Officer Drake’s part, and if so, why?”
Freddy was silent for so long that those on the panel looked at one another and his lawyer beckoned to him silently with his hands. Freddy shook his head. “I can’t do this, Ed,” he said. “Drake wouldn’t have hurt me on purpose. Truth is, I tried to hurt him, and I could tell from the look on his face that he was just disappointed in me, not mad. And I saw him slip. I think I knew before he did that he was gonna fall into that door and I was gonna be in trouble. Don’t punish him for this. It was an accident.”
Freddy’s lawyer shot to his feet and asked for a recess so he could consult with his client.
“Is that necessary?” the moderator said, turning to Freddy. “Sir, is that your own testimony and not the result of coaching or threat or fear?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Then I see no reason to attempt to amend it.”
Freddy said, “If that means change it, I don’t either. Drake’s a good guy. Let him be.” He turned to his lawyer. “It’s okay, Ed. What would I do with a million bucks anyway?”
“That’s the sole reason for this charade?” a panelist said. “We have spent a good deal of expensive time—”
“I ask that that last statement be stricken from the record,” Freddy’s lawyer said.
“I’ll just bet you do.”
Despite the panel’s efforts to keep order, members of the press were having a field day with the turn of events, shouting into their cell phones as they headed for the door.
Francisco Sosa and Jack Keller rushed to Boone, clapping him on the back, but he shushed them and insisted they not overreact. “C’mon, Boones,” Jack whispered, “It’s over. There’s nothing they can do to you now. You’ll be moving over to OCD before you know it. Come back to my office as soon as you’re done here.”
It had happened so fast that Boone had trouble taking it in, and he certainly didn’t want to jinx it. The last thing he wanted was to celebrate in front of the panel. Most cops under IAD scrutiny grew to hate the investigators and ended up feeling used and abused. He thought they had done what they had to do under the circumstances. And to Boone’s mind, Freddy Macintosh’s sudden attack of conscience was no less than an answer to his own fervent, if awkward, prayers.
The IAD panel spent nearly twenty more minutes posturing, in Boone’s opinion. They thanked Freddy Macintosh for his help, reiterated that the case against Garrett Fox was still pending, and quickly voted to drop all charges against Boone and restore him to full privileges as an officer.
Finally it was time to celebrate, and Keller and Sosa approached again. “Show me a smile, Boones,” Jack said.
“In a minute. I’ve got to talk to Freddy. He just saved my entire career.”
“He told the truth,” Francisco said.
“And if he hadn’t . . .”
Boone thanked his counsel and left Keller and Sosa for a moment, heading toward Freddy. Macintosh shook his hand and said, “Sorry about all this. I know you’ve had enough problems in your life.”
“You do?”
“’Course. Who doesn’t?”
“Hey, you didn’t give me a break just because of that, did you, Freddy?”
“I told the truth, man. I’m still broke and dyin’, but I know who I am.”
“So do I, Freddy. Thanks. Try to stay out of trouble now, you hear?”
The man nodded and turned away.
“Wait. What do you mean, you’re dying? Your wounds aren’t life-threatening, are they?”
Macintosh motioned Boone closer and whispered, “Truth is, I’m pretty sick and I don’t have much time. Cancer. Ed here thought a settlement would help me pay the doctor bills—and pay him off too, of course.”
“Freddy, you were hurt while in our custody. Surely there’ll be a settlement of some sort, at least to cover your bills. Maybe more than that.”
“Nobody told me that.”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“No, I will.” Freddy turned to his lawyer. “Ed, is it true the cops have to pay for everything anyway, ’cause this happened while I was under arrest?”
“Uh, yeah, the city made an offer. I told you that.”
“You did not.”
“Oh, I’m sure I did.”
“What was it?”
Ed rummaged in his briefcase, looking stricken. He showed it to Freddy.
“You kiddin’ me? I woulda settled for this in a blink. It’s way more than my bills.”
Ed whispered, “Yes, but it’s nothing like what a real settlement could have been. And you know you signed an agreement, so I still get my third of this.”
Freddy glared. “I wonder.”
“We have a contract.”
“But you never showed me this offer.”
“Stand firm, Freddy,” Boone said. “If he didn’t show you everything, your agreement may be null and void.”
“You stay out of this!” the lawyer said.
“Just do the right thing, Eddie,” Boone said. He pulled Freddy aside. “Offer him 10 percent and don’t budge. Then get yourself into rehab.”
Freddy appeared overcome. Lip quivering, he said, “I’m glad I didn’t get you in trouble.”
“Me too.”
“On to my office to celebrate,” Keller said, finally dragging Boone out of the hearing room, past a glaring Garrett Fox.
“Can Pastor Sosa come?” Boone said.
“Sure! I won’t even break out the booze.”
A few minutes later Boone got his first look at Haeley Lamonica as they came to her desk. She was tall and dark-haired with high cheekbones, and her business suit showed a flair for fashion. She looked at Jack Keller expectantly.
He gave her a thumbs-up and said, “We win.”
She offered a closed-mouth smile and said, “How nice,” and Boone didn’t know what to make of it. Maybe she had assumed him guilty all along.
“This’s him, my former partner and maybe new colleague soon, Boone Drake.”
Haeley nodded but was slow to shake his hand after he had extended his. “Congratulations,” she said flatly.
He introduced Francisco, and Haeley seemed to come to life. “Pastor Sosa? What church?”
When he told her, she said she was well aware of it and that she attended a small storefront church in a depressed area. “We call ourselves North Beach Fellowship, and there’s only about fifty of us, mostly street people.”
“I’ve heard of that work,” Sosa said. “I’d love to visit sometime, but you can imagine how weekends are for me. Oh! Who’s this?” Sosa turned a framed photo to face him. “He sure looks like you.”
“He should. My son, Max. He’s three.”
“He’s beautiful.”
Boone was glad she wasn’t looking when he grimaced at the photo. The boy was about the age Josh would have been. Pastor Sosa handed him the photo, and when Boone put it back on the desk, he turned it a little farther than it had been originally so it wasn’t facing him dead-on.
“I’ll look forward to working with you if things turn out,” he said. Haeley turned back to her work.
Boone knew he should have said something nice about her son’s picture, but he just couldn’t. Beautiful was right. But so was Josh. He was glad when Keller pulled him and Sosa into his office. “You ought to see that kid,” Jack said. “He’s in day care nearby, and sometimes she goes and gets him and brings him back in here before going home. A real charmer.”
Boone sat heavily.
“What happened to the smile, Boones?” Jack said. “You won, man! You won!”
“I feel lucky, but it was on
ly right, you know.”
“Lucky?” Pastor Sosa said. “How about you give the Lord a little credit, Boone? You know as well as I do that that was a direct answer to prayer.”
“I do.”
“And when you get home, be sure and check out that Scripture I gave you.”
Boone nodded.
“Hey,” Sosa added, “I’ve got to go, and you guys have a lot to talk about.” Boone stood and the pastor embraced him. As Sosa left, Boone noticed he stopped at Haeley Lamonica’s station and chatted.
“Can you concentrate, Boones,” Jack said, “or are you totally wiped out?”
“Concentrate on what?”
“The future. Your coming here.”
“You think it’s going to happen?”
“What’s standing in the way? You’ve been exonerated, and now I push through the paperwork. I want to get it done before they team you with a new partner.”
“You think Fox is history?”
“’Course. I’d vote that way. Backing up a partner is one thing. Perjury is another.”
“Imagine how it makes me feel. Freddy as much as said Garrett was right, but Fox can’t deny he was only guessing. He stood up for me, but he lied. Got to admit, I never liked him much, but I don’t wish this on him.”
“It’s his own fault.” Jack switched gears. “Sorry to change the subject so fast, but the timing couldn’t have been better. We need you bad over here. If we don’t get a handle on what’s happening with the gangs—including the old-timers in organized crime—I could be back on the street as quick as I got here.”
“You’re talking my language, boss. I haven’t been able to concentrate much the last few weeks, but I couldn’t ignore the papers and the TV news. This is the reason I became a cop. Get me over here and turn me loose.”
Keller beckoned him with a nod and Boone followed him to a thrice-locked room full of file cabinets. “Everything in here is ultraconfidential,” Jack said. “I shouldn’t even bring you in here until you’re officially transferred, but you need to get started.”
He pulled from the files several folders containing the rap sheets on the most notorious gangbangers and members of the Outfit. While Boone had looked forward to just getting home and celebrating alone what had happened at the hearing, now he couldn’t wait to dig into these records. Nothing in his life had satisfied him more than standing up to playground bullies. The chance to do that to the nth degree was more than he could ask for.
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