Collectively, they watched as Keegan stepped down from the stage after receiving the Department Medal of Honor and then recued on line with the twelve other men about to receive the Department Medal of Valor. Sharon put a hand on Louie’s knee. “Do you know what the most amazing thing here is?”
He shook his head.
“This was the ultimate pay it forward.”
Castillo contemplated what Sharon said, waiting for her to qualify the statement. She did. “Twenty years ago, you had almost blown the whistle on James Keegan. You didn’t because you didn’t want to hurt his family. I remember how you struggled with the decision, but ultimately you said that you couldn’t make Keegan’s family pay for the sins of their now deceased father.”
Castillo nodded. “That was exactly my thought process back then and I know I made the right decision as I sit here today.”
“Right, but don’t you see, if you had went forward and James Keegan’s name became sullied, his family loses his pension and chances are Tim would’ve never became a cop. If Tim had never become a cop, there are two scenarios that play out—both of which are catastrophic.”
Castillo listened and followed along with his wife’s speculation. “Either, we never detect the sleeper cell and thousands are killed, or if we did, and made it to the same point in time on New Year’s Eve morning, you would have been shot down and killed. There would have been no Tim Keegan to kill Ahmed Hatif and to stop him from shooting you dead.”
Castillo considered all that Sharon had said, and while he felt there were too many variables at large to definitively say what would have happened, she certainly did have a point. Castillo drew his attention away from the conversation as he heard the name of Timothy J. Keegan announced to receive the Department Medal of Valor. Castillo made eye contact from the distance with Keegan and offered an approving nod which Keegan returned.
*
Police Commissioner Ray Santoro was overseeing his second Medal Day ceremony as the New York City Police Commissioner. His first year and a half in office had at times been stressful, but in total, it had been overwhelmingly rewarding. He’d led the city in the fight against crime and continued to watch the crime statistics driven down. He was proud of the way he was handling every aspect of the department. He even had a fairly good approval rating from both the rank and file, and the public—a rare, if not nearly impossible task to achieve.
When the name of Timothy J. Keegan was announced for the second time of the day, Santoro reflected on the decision he’d had to make regarding Keegan. Santoro had no regrets having put his faith in the now retired Detective First Grade Louis Castillo. Castillo had managed to quell an overly ambitious rookie who was seeking truth when it was in his own best interests not to.
Keegan approached and bent slightly at the waist in front of Santoro. Santoro took the dark blue ribbon which secured the medal in both hands and gently laid it on top of the first medal which Keegan had been awarded only moments earlier. Keegan straightened up and shook first Santoro’s hand and then the Mayor’s.
As Keegan walked off stage to a round of applause and cheers, which seemed notably louder than the others, Santoro moved on with the ceremony. Out of the corner of his eye, Santoro saw a red haired officer, in uniform, throw her eyes around Keegan and give him a big hug and kiss as he stepped off the stage. Santoro had a warm feeling inside.
In Santoro’s estimation, Medal Day was one of the, if not, the best day of the year for the NYPD. There were no politics played, no backstabbing or lies, just honoring the most deserving heroes that the NYPD has to offer.
As he continued to go through the motions of the ceremony, Santoro further contemplated the Tim Keegan angle. The press couldn’t get enough of it. The comparison between the two Keegans was well overwritten in his opinion, but Santoro didn’t mind that in the slightest. It was working out to his advantage. Tim Keegan had almost become the face of the NYPD and the timing couldn’t have been any better. The story knocked not only the entire stop and frisk controversy off the front pages, but it also overshadowed an incident which had been painted by the media as police brutality.
Santoro had decided to play up Tim Keegan’s heroics for as long as he could ride them. Reports had been leaked to the press linking the killing of Sheykh Muhammad Hajjar to information which Tim Keegan had obtained. While it was the truth, the leak had ruffled some feathers in Washington. Santoro, however, didn’t really care about Washington; New York was the city where he was the Police Commissioner. Of course, he wasn’t foolish either. He would deny having leaked the reports until the day he died.
As the ceremony came to a close, it was tradition for the award recipients to have pictures taken of them and their families with the Police Commissioner. Santoro, bound by convention, would play his part. In truth, however, there was only one family whose picture Santoro would be sure to be seen with.
*
Tim Keegan stepped off the stage and was greeted by Cathy Quinn throwing her arms around him and giving him a kiss. She had taken him off guard and he staggered slightly as he reached to keep his hat on his head. Between receiving two medals at medal day in front of his family, having Cathy by his side, and being compared to his father, everything in the world was right with Tim Keegan.
Keegan could see the pride in Cathy’s eyes as she abducted him long enough for her mother to take a picture of the two of them before Keegan would have to return to his seat. Quinn stood to his left, throwing her right arm around his waist and her left hand flat on his chest—directly above his shield. The one and a half karat, diamond engagement ring would be palpable to anyone viewing the photo.
Keegan found his place among the chairs and patiently waited for the ceremony to conclude. He turned around seeking out his family, Louie and his wife, and fellow Medal of Honor recipient, Sergeant Tom Galvin. With each set of eyes he met, a warm smile was returned.
Once the ceremony had concluded, Keegan sought out his family and got on line to have his picture taken with them and Commissioner Santoro. He received accolades and pats on the back from his brother officers as well as family and friends. As wonderful as the feeling was, Keegan knew this would not be the highlight of his day. That would come around three pm in the confines of the sixty-seventh police precinct in East Flatbush, Brooklyn. Keegan thought it ironic that he actually shared the same schedule today as did the Police Commissioner and Mayor.
When it was finally Keegan’s turn, the press requested a number of photos which at the behest of Santoro were granted. Keegan posed with his family, Cathy Quinn, Tom Galvin, Louis Castillo, the Mayor, and finally Santoro himself. Keegan was blinded from the amount of flashbulbs which had gone off in front of him over the course of five minutes.
When asked for a comment by the press, Keegan had played the role of humble as well as could be expected. “I really don’t consider myself a hero in any way. Not a man or women who puts on the uniform of the NYPD and pins a shield to their chest would have done anything differently than I did.”
Once Keegan had made his statement, Commissioner Santoro hijacked the impromptu press conference much to Keegan’s relief. As Santoro continued to schmooze the press, Keegan and his family seized the opportunity to slip away. Tim Keegan walked alongside his mother and Kerry with his brother Kevin, and Cathy trailing the formation. They talked quietly when Keegan saw the Castillo’s talking with Tom Galvin slightly ahead of them. He excused himself and picked up the pace. Keegan caught up to Louis and Sharon Castillo and placed a hand on Louie’s shoulder. They turned to meet him.
Keegan smiled looking at each of them one at a time. “Hey Louie…Mrs. Castillo, it’s great to see you guys. I’m so happy that you were able to make it.”
“Don’t be so formal, Tim; call me Sharon.”
Louis Castillo jumped in to the conversation. “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Tim. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be alive.” He stuck out his hand and Keegan accepted. “Congratulations, Tim,�
� as they pressed the flesh.
The conversation would be short lived as Commissioner Santoro walked by. He put a fatherly arm around Keegan’s shoulder. “I’m on my way to the Six-Seven, Tim. I’ll see you and your family there.”
“Yes, Commissioner. We’re on the way there now as well.”
Santoro called ahead to a group of officers wearing suits—his security detail, assumed Keegan. One of the officers walked to the curb in front of One Police Plaza and held open the passenger side door of a black Chevy Tahoe with blacked out windows. Santoro climbed inside and the officer closed the door. The rest of the team filed in, and the car pulled from the curb. Keegan turned his attention back to Castillo. “Are you guys coming back to the precinct?”
The Castillo’s looked at each other tentatively before Louis Castillo would respond. “We really can’t, Tim. Our flight is in a few hours, and we promised Sharon’s parents we’d stop by before we left. We haven’t seen them since we moved in March,” he lied.
Keegan accepted the story without as much as a second thought. “Okay, Louie, I understand. Thanks again for coming. You don’t know how much it means to me that you came to see me honored at Medal Day.”
Castillo smiled. It was a genuine and warm smile. “It was my pleasure, Tim.” He reached out and shook hands with each member of the Keegan family as he couldn’t help but to think back to the picture of them in the newspaper so many years ago. He held his look on Kerry Keegan probably a bit longer than the rest. Castillo could remember her wails during her father’s funeral service just like it was yesterday.
Castillo brought himself back to the present. “It was so nice to meet you all. I’m sure you’re all quite proud of Tim.”
Castillo put an arm around Tim Keegan’s shoulder and escorted him away from the group. “Do you remember what I told you in the hospital?”
Keegan nodded. “I remember.”
“Well I want you to know that I meant every word of it. You’re twice the cop your dad ever was.” With that, Castillo gave him a pat on the back and shook his hand. He reached for Sharon and took her by the hand and they began to walk away. Keegan then turned to Galvin. “What about you, Sarge? Are you coming back to the station house for the ceremony?”
“I sure am, Tim. It’s long overdue.”
*
At 3:15, the temperature was up to eighty-eight degrees. Police Commissioner Ray Santoro ignored the heat and refused to take off the jacket of his custom made navy blue suit. He stood on the steps of the Snyder Avenue station house, under the overhang to shelter himself from the sun. On a normal day, the Sixty-Seventh Precinct would have cars parked in front of the precinct and all along Snyder Avenue…but this was not a normal day. There was not a car anywhere on the block. Blue wooden barriers with while lettering warning ‘POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS’ were set up along the sidewalk in front of the private homes across the street. Santoro looked over to the members of the press who were stationed behind the metal police barriers set up as a temporary press pen for the event.
Santoro scanned the crowd before he would begin. There were thousands of police officers in uniform and plain clothes. There were also uniformed firefighters looking on from the firehouse next door. In Santoro’s mind, he thought that only for Inspector’s funerals would a crowd of police officers of this size turn out. Of course, he had ordered a mandatory minimum of eight officers from each precinct, transit district, housing police service area, (as well as four officers from each detective squad in the city) to appear, making sure it was a well attended event. Still, the number of officers who had showed up on their own was incredible.
Santoro stepped out from the protection of shade and took his place in front of the podium set up on the top of the precinct’s stairway. He was joined by the Mayor, the President of the local Community Board, as well as the President of the Precinct Community Council. Santoro looked to the end of the block in each direction, shielding his eyes from the sun as he did. He could see members of the New York City Department of Highways stationed at each corner. He gave a nod and the bucket truck on each end lifted a Department of Highway worker into the sky.
Santoro welcomed the crowd as the members of the press began to take notes. “At this time, I’d like to invite the Keegan family to join us at the podium.”
Santoro turned to the front door of the station house and motioned towards it as the entire Keegan family emerged in single file. He made the introductions. “By now, I’m sure you’re all familiar with Tim Keegan. This lovely lady is Kate, his mom, and the widow of Lieutenant James Keegan; his brother, Kevin and sister, Kerry.”
There was a polite round of applause. Santoro soaked it in. Any shortfalls that his administration may have had to date would quickly fade away. He was sure of that. The response from the press and the public was so glowing that he hoped it would never die down. Of course, he knew that it would, and that’s what made it even so much more important to take advantage of the opportunity to exploit the positive news story while it was still fresh in the minds of every New York City resident.
Santoro produce a large pair of sheers with blue handles from the shelf in the back of the podium. He along with the other dignitaries approached the yellow ribbon tied off on the hand rail on either side of the steps leading to the precinct’s entrance. The Keegan clan followed closely behind. “It is not very often that you come across not one, but two highly distinguished members of law enforcement in the same family. I’ve consulted with NYPD historians, who have assured me that in the entire history of the NYPD, there has never been a father and son to have both been awarded the department’s highest honor.”
Santoro, holding the sheers in his left hand, reached out with his right and shook Tim Keegan’s hand. “As you all know by now, this morning, Timothy Keegan was awarded the Department Medal of Honor, the same medal his father was awarded exactly nineteen years ago tomorrow. Tim has clearly been influenced by his father. He wears the same shield number and even patrols the same neighborhood.” After a brief pause, “but this afternoon we are not here to celebrate Tim’s accomplishments.”
He motioned for each of the Keegan’s to place a hand on the sheers as he put them to the yellow ribbon. It was uncomfortably crowded, but Santoro would not let such a small detail be a detractor for him. He continued. “This afternoon we are making a gesture that is so long overdue. I’d like to thank the Mayor of the City of New York as well as Brooklyn Community Board Seventeen for their efforts to make this well deserved honor come to fruition. From this day forward, the south side of Snyder Avenue between Nostrand Avenue and Rogers Avenue will be renamed in honor of a true hero to the NYPD.”
Kate Keegan and the others cut the ribbon; both ends floated to the ground. She watched as the Commissioner motioned to each end of the block where the Department of Highway workers one at a time yanked a white sheet from the previously covered street sign. The sign was green with white lettering. A tear slowly rolled down her cheek.
Kate took her youngest son by the hand and slowly walked to the nearest corner. Members of the press were blurting out questions, and the sound of cameras taking pictures filled the air. Kate hadn’t really noticed any of it. As she drew close enough to the corner, she looked up and read the sign. She gave Timothy a tight hug and began to weep in memory of her love lost so many years earlier. The sign read:
Lieutenant
James P. Keegan Way
(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I’d like to thank Jasmine, my wife of over twenty-three years and our two children, Erin and Ryan. If not for Jasmine encouraging my writing nearly two decades ago, none of my books would have ever been written. Erin has helped me over and over again with an occasional suggestion or critique. She’s a fantastic writer and I’ve learned a lot from her. Ryan is my biggest fan and inspiration to continue writing. He is always asking about the progress of my
stories and eager to read them and share with his friends and teachers at school. Thank you buddy!
As in any book, I feel being accurate on details is very important. I have over twenty years experience in the NYPD and I feel that the police procedural aspects of my stories are point on. However, I was a street cop my entire career. While I have a better understanding than the average person of many situations that the police deal with, I am not an expert on all police related matters. It’s for reasons like this that I had to call in the help of some very dear friends who were able to lend their expertise in specific areas of policing that I am not as well versed in.
I worked with Retired NYPD Sergeant Larry Zacarese in the 113 Precinct in Queens. Larry was one of the sharpest street cops that I ever had the pleasure to work with. Larry left the 113 Precinct and moved on to the elite Emergency Service Unit and also worked in the K-9 unit before being promoted to Sergeant. I was able to draw on Larry’s expertise from his ESU days to help me with the details regarding the procedures of the Bomb Squad and removal of explosives from a scene.
His expertise is not however, limited to Emergency Service. Larry is also a Paramedic, and since retiring from the NYPD, has taken a position as the Assistant Chief of Police at Stony Brook University. He is also an Adjunct Professor at the University, and the Director of Emergency Management. Oh, and by the way, shortly before going to press, Larry passed the New York State Bar exam. As you can guess, Larry may be the most versatile person that I have ever had the pleasure to call a friend. I can’t thank him enough for answering my endless amount of questions on the phone and via e-mail. Best wishes on whatever the future holds with the law degree.
I’d also like to thank NYPD Detective Chris Connolly. I met Chris while we were both assigned to an Evidence Collection team. I quickly learned that Chris was not only a sharp street cop but he was extremely savvy with computers. Chris moved on to the NYPD’s Crime Scene Unit for a while before settling down in Computer Crimes.
Legacy and Redemption Page 30