by L A Witt
It will. It has to. I couldn’t say it, couldn’t tip Mark’s hand, but I also couldn’t spend one more second in Officer Russel’s company without doing something I’d regret. I turned and walked out of the cafeteria, feeling the weight of his stare hit me between the shoulder blades like a knife.
What the hell was my life becoming?
Chapter 13
Mark
In an ideal world, investigations like mine would both wrap up quickly and take as much time as they needed. No one wanted things to drag on, but things couldn’t be rushed either. I had to be thorough. It was the only way to be absolutely sure I wasn’t destroying an innocent cop (the worst thing in the minds of most cops) or releasing a guilty one back out onto the streets (the worst thing in my mind). Unfortunately, it also meant a lot of brass getting pissed off about sidelining supposedly good cops, bean counters getting pissed off about paying those sidelined cops, and my boss getting pissed off about hearing from captains and the commissioner about me dragging my feet and “abusing my power.” As a result, there was always pressure to wrap things up as quickly as possible.
Years in the Internal Affairs Bureau had given me an immunity of sorts to all the screaming and yelling about that shit, so it generally didn’t bother me. Even Erin was getting adept at fielding their calls, and she’d quickly learned that if they shouted, they weren’t actually angry at her. In fact, she’d just leave them on hold a little while longer for spite. Professional? Maybe not. But neither was verbally abusing my assistant because I wasn’t available to take their call on a moment’s notice.
With this investigation, it wasn’t only higher ups and accountants losing their shit. I had witnesses being harassed and stalked, and it was escalating. Ryan’s friend was leaving the country to escape it. Officer Russel was harassing Ryan at his place of work, for God’s sake. And this morning, not long after I’d gotten off the phone with Ryan, two separate detectives had contacted me to let me know their CIs had caught wind of some gang bangers looking for JJ. Ironic, considering Russel and DeMarco had tried to frame Martin as a gang banger—now it seemed they had a few of them hunting down the key witness in my investigation. And of course Lieutenant Bridges had given me an earful about the optics of a case like this, and how if I didn’t want the two of us standing in the unemployment line, I’d maybe get this thing done fast and clean.
Translation: Unless you have a literal smoking gun and a bulletproof case, drop it before your vigilante bullshit gets us both fired.
IA investigations were always under pressure to be fast, but like few others, this one didn’t have time to drag on.
So, as Detective Morris was on her way to pick up JJ and move him into witness protection, I pounded out my report on the shooting of Martin Fredericks. It was perhaps more concise than my reports usually were, but it was to the point:
“Officers DeMarco and Russel aggressively escalated a routine traffic stop with Martin Fredericks and Jonathan “JJ” Howard. Officer Russel brandished his firearm without cause. Officer Russel threatened Howard with said firearm, also without cause, in what appears to be an attempt to provoke Howard and Fredericks. Officer DeMarco attempted to defuse the situation. At that time, Howard and Fredericks feared for their lives and attempted to flee the scene.
Officer Russel fired on the suspects, striking Fredericks twice in the back, confirmed by ballistics and missing rounds in his service weapon and casings found at the scene. Officer DeMarco fired as well, also confirmed by missing rounds in his service weapon and casings found at the scene.
Both officers stated they handled the traffic stop properly, and only escalated when the individuals in the car became belligerent and agitated. This conflicts with a recording of the traffic stop, acquired by Internal Affairs from Howard, whose statement is consistent with the recording. Additionally, the placement of Fredericks’ wounds indicate he was running away rather than threatening the officers, which conflicts with the officers’ statements and corroborates both Howard and the recording.
Per comments from both officers during their interviews, the shooting appears to have been racially motivated. Both officers claimed to hospital staff and to Internal Affairs that the men in the vehicle were part of a gang-related investigation, but there is no record of either individual being affiliated with or in any way involved with gang activity, past or present. Neither officer presented evidence of having known either individual’s name prior to the traffic stop, nor if either individual was a person of interest in any active or inactive investigation (which they were not).
Further, Officer Russel volunteered during his interview that he has twice fired upon African American individuals in his career, killing both. He was unrepentant and showed a disturbing lack of remorse for his past or present shootings, and in fact demonstrated frustration with the investigation process rather than the killing itself. He went on to say he expected a thorough investigation, as it “Happens every time a cop has to shoot one of them.” When asked for clarification, he replied, “You know. Thugs. Gang bangers.” This leads me to conclude that the shooting was racially motivated.
The shooting was unwarranted, and a direct result of both officers deliberately escalating an otherwise routine and benign traffic stop. Recommend both officers be permanently removed from active duty and charged with the murder of Martin Fredericks and the attempted murder of Jonathan Howard.
Also recommend a review of any prior investigations into Officer Russel shooting citizens, as this most recent shooting may be indicative of a pattern of racially motivated violence.”
I skimmed over the report, my throat acidic as I read my own words. I hated how bland I had to sound. How I couldn’t just come out and say the racist fuckers murdered this kid in cold blood. I could only give recommendations, and I had to come across as detached and unemotional. No matter how badly I wanted to write my uncensored opinion in red ink, I couldn’t appear biased. The evidence had to say what I could only allude to.
I added information the review board needed in order to obtain and view evidence, contact information for my handful of witnesses, and then I printed it out and signed the bottom. After I’d sealed it in a manila envelope, I got up and left my office.
Erin’s desk was deserted, which was no surprise—she’d requested the day off to deal with wedding preparations. The wedding was coming up fast, and then she had a week off for her honeymoon. I might have to requisition a temporary assistant while she was gone, especially if I had any other cases fall in my lap.
I’d deal with that later. First things first—hand in my report.
“Detective Thibedeau, I need to see you in my office.”
In my own office, I rolled my eyes. Well that didn’t take long. I’d only turned in the Fredericks report three days ago. “Be there as soon as I can, ma’am.”
Lieutenant Bridges hung up, and I swore under my breath. When it was time for shit to hit the fan—or at least roll downhill—things could happen very quickly.
Bridges didn’t have an office here in the Twenty-first. Some of my colleagues and I had been set up here because this precinct had an extra floor they didn’t need, while the shinier building adjacent to City Hall had more limited space and was reserved for those above my paygrade. On one hand, I liked it because I didn’t have my boss breathing down my neck. On the other, being summoned to her office meant a fifteen-minute drive in light traffic.
Forty-five minutes of construction-accident-more-construction traffic later, I’d parked in City Hall’s garage, and was on my way up to the lieutenant’s office. As I was coming down the hall, she texted me to come to a conference room instead of her office. That was always a good sign.
I’d come here fully expecting her to demand a rundown of everything that was already spelled out in my report.
I had not anticipated walking into a familiar conference room and finding myself face to face with Lieutenant Bridges, Commissioner Price, Chief Larson, and Captain Williams from the Ninete
enth—DeMarco and Russel’s precinct. They all watched me with hard expressions as I shut the door behind me.
It wasn’t lost on me that everyone here, myself included, was white. Maybe I’d just been doing this too long, but given the circumstances of this case, the demographics in the room didn’t sit well.
“Sit down, Detective.” Bridges indicated the single empty chair across from the four of them.
Without speaking, I sat down.
“To cut right to the chase,” Bridges said flatly, “we have some concerns about your report on the shooting of Martin Fredericks.”
I’d expected as much. “All right.”
Bridges opened her mouth to speak, but Commissioner Price beat her to it.
“Detective,” he said gruffly, “am I to understand that you want two decorated officers with clean records charged with murder, attempted murder, and accessory? And you’re claiming this was racially motivated, rather than self-defense?”
Years of practice kept my voice and tone neutral. “My report is a summary of the conclusions I came to based on the evidence available to me.”
“Your report is incomplete, though,” Captain Williams said with a sneer. “Both Martin Fredericks and JJ Howard have criminal records.”
“With all due respect, Captain, their criminal records are irrelevant to my investigation.”
“Irrelevant?” He barked a laugh. “Two respected police officers engage with a couple of convicted—”
“Officers DeMarco and Russel pulled them over for a traffic stop,” I interjected coldly. “They had no prior knowledge of the individuals or any prior criminal history. Per the recording on JJ Howard’s phone—”
“I’m still confused about that,” Williams said. “How exactly did you come into possession of that phone?”
“It was willingly surrendered by its owner.”
“I see. But how did you know who the owner of the phone was?” He held up a folder. “There is no mention of him by name in DeMarco or Russel’s incident report.”
Only years of practice kept me from nervously swallowing. “If you read the report, you’ll see that I was given the name by Dr. Ryan Campbell, the emergency department physician who was with Martin when he died. Martin gave him his phone and told him to contact JJ.”
“And what happened to that phone?” Bridges asked. “Because I’m seeing conflicting accounts from officers and witnesses involved in the situation.”
My spine prickled. They were angling for something, but it wasn’t something they should have known about. Then again, Officers Russel and DeMarco had been stalking Ryan. There was a good chance they’d seen us together. My best bet here was to not appear to be hiding anything.
“The officers demanded the phone from Dr. Campbell,” I said. “But their behavior in his ED made him wary.”
“What behavior, Detective?” Price sounded bored.
“Entering his trauma bay and demanding personal effects from a patient who was not yet stable,” I said. “Insisting all the patient’s personal effects needed to be confiscated as evidence in a gang-related investigation. Dr. Campbell was suspicious of the officers’ motives, particularly after the patient expressed fear of the officers and told him one of them shot him.”
“And what did he do with the phone after that?” Bridges asked.
“He listened to the recording. He was alarmed, and so he brought it to me.”
“Why would an ED physician come directly to Internal Affairs?” Williams asked pointedly.
I looked him right in the eyes. “Because Dr. Campbell and I know each other, and he trusted me.”
“How do the two of you know each other?” There was just enough suspicion in Chief Larson’s voice to suggest he already knew more than he was letting on. This was definitely not a time to be cagey and try to sidestep questions.
“We were introduced by mutual friends,” I said. “At the time this all occurred, we had been on a couple of dates.”
The collective wince was subtle, but not enough to fly under my radar.
“And since this all began,” Bridges said, “have you and Dr. Campbell continued, erm, dating?”
“No. As soon as I realized this was a situation I needed to investigate, I advised him we couldn’t continue any kind of relationship, and he agreed.”
Williams blinked. “Just like that? You called it off, and he didn’t argue?”
“Yes, sir. He understands the seriousness of what happened, and like me, didn’t want our interpersonal relationship to taint the investigation.”
“Was the phone admitted as evidence?” Price asked.
“It was,” I acknowledged, “but because the chain of custody was compromised, I needed to obtain JJ’s phone in order to proceed. So I reached out to him, and was able to acquire that phone appropriately.”
They all exchanged unreadable looks. Every one of us had been cops for way too long to let simple tells slip out.
Before any of them could continue, I said, “If we’re going to bring Martin and JJ’s criminal histories into this, then I would suggest that, as I mentioned in my report, we look into Officer Russel’s prior shootings of black citizens.”
Bridges arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to assume you’ve already looked into it if you know the two people he shot were African American.”
“If you read my report, as well as the transcript of my interview with Officer Russel, you will see that he volunteered that information.”
“And you, the IAB detective who seems to have it out for everyone with a badge, don’t believe those shootings were justified?” Price definitely sounded bored now.
It was a struggle to ignore his snide comment, but I had to tread carefully here. “I haven’t looked into them because I didn’t want those circumstances to create bias while I completed my own investigation. However, from Officer Russel’s comments and attitude during his interview, I’m inclined to believe there’s a pattern.”
Captain Williams slammed his palm onto the table. “Detective Thibedeau, if you think one of my best officers is a racist murderer, why don’t you come out and say it instead of pussyfooting around it?”
Price and Bridges scowled at him, but said nothing.
I fixed my gaze on Williams. “I think his behavior and comments are quite possibly indicative of a pattern. I can’t make that call—only the evidence can determine if that’s the case.”
“But you believe it is the case,” Williams prodded.
“I believe it’s worth looking into.”
“But you don’t believe the criminal pasts of the individuals involved is—”
“At what point did their criminal pasts come into play?” I asked. “On the recording, they can clearly be heard cooperating with the officers, and there is no mention made of warrants or any other—”
“There is no mention of either man’s race, either,” he snapped.
I narrowed my eyes. “And yet in my interview with Russel, he clearly refers to these men as thugs and gang members, despite there being no evidence to the support that.”
“Except in their criminal pasts.”
“Captain.” Bridges cleared her throat as she thumbed through a folder. “Fredericks and Howard each have a single, non-violent, minor drug-related offense in their records. None more recent than eight years ago. Both were cooperative each time they were arrested, were given conditional discharges because it was their first offense, and did their probation without incident.” She closed the folder and turned to Williams. “In fact their arrests have been expunged and only stayed on their records to prevent further conditional discharges. These are not men with violent criminal pasts. They were kids who did dumb things, atoned for their mistakes, and have led clean lives ever since.”
Williams glared at her. “Or they haven’t been caught.”
“And yet we have three records of Officer Russel shooting and killing black citizens.” I folded my hands on the table. “With all due respect, I believe that wa
rrants further investigation.”
Williams and Chief Larson exchanged looks.
Larson turned to Bridges. “I understand it’s your job to investigate the police. However, given the history of your office over these last couple of years, I’m concerned about IAB—Detective Thibedeau in particular—abusing their power and finding dirty cops where there aren’t any.”
“Chief,” Lieutenant Bridges warned. “The fact that my office has been involved in convicting as many dirty cops as they have in the last couple of years is not a stain on Internal Affairs. If we keep turning over stones and finding crooked cops in your precincts, then maybe we have a systemic problem that needs to be addressed.”
“We did address the systemic problem,” Price said. “You really want to go through another turnover of dozens of cops being fired and sent to prison?”
Bridges glared at him. “Do you really want to let members of the force commit crimes against the population without consequence, all in the name of avoiding bad PR?”
He glared back at her. Then he shifted the look to me. “The bottom line here, Detective, is that you’re throwing out some accusations that have the potential for some serious backlash against the entire force. You’d better make sure every angle of this is clean, and every I is dotted and T is crossed.” The commissioner stabbed a finger at me. “This city’s had enough PR disasters without you bringing the Black Lives Matter movement to our doorstep.”
“Then maybe some members of the force need to be reminded why that movement exists,” I said coldly. “And why we have citizens who don’t trust anyone with a badge because they have legitimate reason to believe that they’ll be killed by police.”
Lieutenant Bridges winced, and I knew I’d hear about this later.
“Those are serious allegations,” Price growled.
“Yes, Commissioner,” I said. “They are.”