She did not think his appearance was a threat to her job. First, given Linda’s emails and that the Chief had ‘commissioned’ the story in the paper, Jillian thought that the threat to her job had passed. Second, she knew that if the Chief intended to fire her, she wouldn’t send a detective to do the dirty work…she’d do it herself.
Still, his appearance was a surprise, as was where they went for their talk. Jillian assumed they’d meet somewhere in the building, but, instead, he suggested that they could take a walk. And so they did: down Fifth Street, a right on Mill Avenue, and ultimately down along the walking area beside the Tempe Town Lake. Jillian thought that this was somewhat strange, but comfortable at the same time.
As they walked, they passed moms with baby carriages—one was accompanied by a little kid on push scooter—and an ASU student-age guy who rolled by on a long skate board that was pulled along by his dog, a beautiful golden retriever. Here and there guys were fishing…Jillian wondered if they ever caught anything, and if so, if it was safe to eat the fish…maybe they just liked fishing.
Jillian liked walking along the lake. She’d been here many times…concerts; the Tempe Christmas Boat Parade, and sometimes, like now, just to take a walk. She wondered if the detective would head them west toward The Tempe Center for the Arts, or east toward Mesa. They headed east…soon, they were under and then beyond the Mill Avenue overpass.
When he said, “Call me Wes,” she answered, “and please call me Jillian.” Although it was a little weird to call sworn officers by their name without mentioning their rank, she did work in a police department, so…it really depended on the particular officer’s preference.
Wes walked on her left…along the lake side. He obviously was in no hurry to speak. He’d left his jacket at the office, loosened his tie, and seemed to be simply enjoying the day.
Finally, he looked over at Jillian and said, “Judo, huh?”
She’d been wondering when he would get to it…the reason for this walk, but this caught her off guard, and she actually giggled.
“Yes, judo. Look, Detective Sergeant Webb…Wes…please don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t mean to be a hero, and I didn’t mean to be stupid, either. I had these predictive models…and I guess I just wanted to know if they were accurate.” She knew she’d gushed-out a lot of information, but she was nervous.
He nodded a kind of exaggerated nod, and said, “OK…so, you’re a believer in terms of the intelligence-led policing approach?”
“Yes, I am. I mean, it’s not a substitute for police work…it actually depends on police work, and then may augment police work…but yes, I do.”
“And, I take it that Larry Gruber wasn’t too enthusiastic about your models, am I right?”
This time she actually laughed. “That’s an understatement…what’s with him? I wasn’t trying to tell him how to do his job…I just had some information that I thought he might could use.”
“I don’t know what to say…guess that’s just Larry being Larry. He’s a good detective…” he said, and tapered off, and Jillian assumed that he didn’t want to say anything bad about his colleague.
“Someone said he was moving toward retirement and wanted to close one last case. I understand that…it’s just that…he was insulting. He made it as if this was about gender or technology…and that somehow both were a bad thing.”
”Yeah, it’s hard for some people to change. I imagine back when Larry was hired, Tempe PD was a different world from what it is now. Look at you, a civilian employee who’s using computers, a woman, and an ASU grad student. You’re threatening to the Larry Gruber’s of the world. But then, you know that because you’re studying women in policing.”
This freaked Jillian out a little…how’d a detective know things about her? It must have shown in her expression because he made a calming gesture with his right hand, and said, “The story was in the paper. And, I did a little homework.”
“Why?” Jillian asked, and stopped abruptly, causing the detective to have to stop and then take a step back toward her.
She figured he’d say, ‘why what,’ but he didn’t. Instead, he gave her a straightforward answer. “The Chief wanted me to talk with you.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“Absolutely not.” His next comment was out of the blue. “Ever given any thought to being a police officer?”
Jillian’s jaw literally dropped and at first, she was at a loss for words. Finally, she said, “Not really, no. Why?”
“For several reasons…all of them good,” he said and again made a calming motion. “You considered fact-based data…armed with the data, you went through channels…you presented your results to Gruber, as ordered. When he blew you off, you kept at it, even figured out a list of possible targets. That shows brains and determination. And you went there, and, when the action started, you went toward it. That’s instinct, and in my world, that’s a good thing.”
“Well, I don’t know about any of that, but honestly…I don’t even know how it all happened. I was watching the guy rob a wine shop, totally freaked, and then somehow I was standing in front of him.” She held up her hands, at a loss for words.
“That’s what I mean—instinct. Most people don’t have that, Jillian, and, I’m not sure it’s something that can be taught.”
“Whatever…but everyone—The Chief, Lt. Timms—they all say that this was a mistake. Actually, the Chief said it was foolhardy…and my mom agreed.”
Webb chuckled. “And yet, there you were….and you captured an armed robber. Look, Jillian, I’m not saying it’s a good thing to be an iconoclastic cop like Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop, you know, with the Captain yelling at you all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I like Eddie, I like Beverly Hills Cop. I just think there’s a difference between being problematic…a maverick, and acting like you acted.”
“Thanks, I guess, Jillian said, and they started walking again.
“Tell me, what were you thinking as Neely attacked you.”
“Well, with judo, you practice these moves, again and again, but at the same time, you get into a peaceful zone…where you’re both thinking and not thinking…if that makes any sense?”
Webb nodded silently, then asked, “Were you scared?”
“Yes,” she answered and nodded. “Especially afterward.”
“Good,” he smiled again, “that shows that foolhardy was accompanied by common sense…it’s good to be scared. And yet, you still acted…again, instinct.”
They walked without speaking for ten seconds or so. Then Wes said, spoke. “You said that you believed in intelligence-lead-policing…how did you end-up in the Research Division?”
“OK, I’m sure you know that Lt. Timms is working on her PhD at ASU…in Justice Studies.” Wes nodded that he did, and she continued. “Well, we have the same advisor: Professor Carolyn Patek. She introduced me to Linda, who hooked me up with women police officers across the Valley. I’ve been interviewing them, and Linda, too, for my research project. A few months after I interviewed Linda, a position opened-up in the Research Division, and she encouraged me to apply. Of course, I had to go through a set of interviews and a background check, but once I was approved, Linda officially offered me the position, and I accepted.”
“Any qualms about taking such a position? Not everyone wants to work with a police department, especially some people in the university.”
Jillian exhaled, nodded, and said, “Absolutely…I thought about it…a lot. I discussed it with my parents, with Carolyn…Professor Patek, and with several friends…some were fellow students, although mostly it was with non-grad student friends. So, I guess I did have some qualms, yeah. But, you know, the other factor was…well, money. ASU doesn’t typically give master’s students assistantships or stipends, anything like that…most of those go to the doctoral students. So, the Research Division job was a way of pay
ing my own way through grad school. It was a good salary…with benefits, and it gave me even better access to police women…besides, it was interesting work.”
“Given the business with Neely, you must be pretty good at it. Are you OK with working for the police?”
“I think so, yeah. In some ways, it’s almost like taking classes at ASU...I actually did have to take several workshops at ASU to learn GIS. In that way, the job really was a little like changing majors. But, I’ve enjoyed it. And it helps that we have a good team. Linda’s great…Lt. Timms, I mean.”
Wes nodded and then was quiet for a time as they walked. Finally, he said, “OK, so now it’s your turn…I imagine you have some questions?” He smiled.
From the first grade on, Jillian had always been a good student. But, in high school as a teenager, she’d had the usual self-concept issues and, as often as not, wanted to hide, not engage. She had grown out her insecurities (most of them, anyway) by the time she was a sophomore in college, and by the time she was a senior, without rattling like an empty can, would raise her hand in most classes to ask questions or to answer them. Still, once she became a graduate student, Carolyn and other faculty as well encouraged her to speak-up more in class even if it meant disagreeing with other students, some of whom WERE empty cans, especially some of the doctoral students who seemed to look down on MS students. Occasionally, she even disagreed with the professor, which was tough at first, but she worked on it, reminding herself that she was in graduate school. She told herself, “think first, then talk.”
So, when Detective Sergeant Webb asked about her questions…she had some. Although Jillian was used to engaging, she was still tactful.
“Yes, I do. Please don’t be insulted…Wes, but…OK, I read the paper, I listen to NPR, and it seems as if every month there’s another story about a police officer shooting and killing an unarmed black man. You’re a detective…what does policing mean to you? What do you think about these incidents…these killings?”
Wes was quite for long enough that Jillian wondered if he had been insulted. Then, he looked directly at her and said, “Well, they trouble me, too. And, in some ways, maybe even more than you…or at least differently from you. Look, when you’re a part of some group and members of that group do something bad, it’s as if it’s ‘on’ everyone in the group. Obviously, I don’t know about each and every one of these cases, but some of them seem to be totally unacceptable. Even if these are just bad apples, they make all police look bad. It’s actually worse for uniforms…they’re more visible. I think many people now look at the police differently, and in a ‘I can’t trust these guys’ kind of way.”
Jillian, ever the grad student, nodded and said, “That’s interesting. You know, there actually are studies that discuss what you just said…about how these killings cause people not to trust the police.”
“Really?”
“Yes…so, there was an article that we read that was published in…sorry, I can’t remember what journal…anyway, it shows that when incidents of police brutality are covered in the media, the residents in the neighborhood where the incidents occurred are less likely to call the police if they know about a crime, even if they are a crime victim. And, another article that said that a lot of times citizen input helps police solves crime, but if citizens don’t trust the police, they won’t help them…and crimes are more likely to go unsolved. So, when you put the two studies together…well, it supports your point.”
Wes smiled at her and said, “If you can find the citations to those studies, I would like to read them.”
“No worries, I’ll have the cites in class notes.” Jillian was quite for several steps, and then said, “OK, but what do you personally think about this…I mean, as a police officer?”
Wes looked out across the lake where two long, thin boats were skulling, then turned back to her. “Three things.” He ticked them off on the fingers of his right hand. “One, I want law and order. I think we have a job to do, and if we do it right, everyone will be safer…whether that’s to arrest criminals and keep them from victimizing more people, or, as in your case, with intelligence-led policing, to maybe even prevent crimes. Two, I want the law to be enforced effectively and equally. And three, I want police officers to get home safely when their shift ends. And, that’s it: Wes Webb on policing.”
Jillian pressed him, “OK, but what about all these killings of unarmed black men?”
“It’s wrong…it violates my second point…enforce the law effectively AND equally. If any group is singled-out for unfair treatment by the police, especially if involves using deadly force, that is not OK. It’s racist. That’s what got our former sheriff, Arpaio, in such trouble with the federal courts…his raids looked like racial profiling. A federal judge ordered him to stop, and he didn’t. That was ridiculous. We want citizens to trust us, all citizens. It’s like you said, who’s going to call the police if they fear the police?” He shook his head in disgust. “And, if some officers do things that discredit the badge, it affects all police…it affects me. Maybe when people know I’m a detective, they’ll wonder about me. Honestly, these cases make me re-think my own actions.”
Jillian nodded…impressed by his answer.
“But that’s a good question. Maybe it shows that a person like you should consider walking over to the other side of HQ. Who knows, maybe you’d be an antidote to the Larry Gruber’s of the world, OR to those who’d kill an unarmed African-American man. Other questions?”
“Yes, OK, having never, EVER, having given any thought to anything like this…” Jillian stopped as if to let her mind catch up…”how would I go about this? Would I have to be a uniformed patrol officer?”
“Would you want to be?”
“Not really,” she laughed. “I just don’t know the protocol.”
“Well, you apply, there are written tests, another background check, then you go to the police training academy. Then, depending…you would start out as a beginning grade detective.”
“You can do that…skip being on patrol and jump directly to being a detective?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Does Linda…Lt. Timms, want me to do this?”
“No, she won’t be at all happy. She thinks you’re doing a really good job right where you are. For now, this is just talk.” He stopped walking and again looked directly at her.
“Look, Jillian, here’s the thing…I am working the Neely case, and you’re right, Larry Gruber is filing his retirement papers. And, during the hand-off of the case, I had occasion to talk with the Chief. She asked me what I thought about you, and I told her…pretty much what I’ve said to you today: a woman, soon-to be-with a graduate degree, a research background in the university AND at Tempe PD, smart and determined, and apparently with good instinct…I mean, it’s all there.”
He hesitated and smiled. “Besides, Charnell Tate speaks highly of you, and that’s a strong recommendation.”
Jillian laughed, and said, “Thank you Charnell.”
Mimicking a New York City accent, Wes said, “Forget about it.”
Over the next few weeks, Jillian talked this over with her parents, with Carolyn Patek, and with her friends, Felicia Hurtado and Eileen Kaplan. Her parents were concerned about a possible and unexpected career change and also about potential danger. They didn’t dwell on this, but Jillian could tell that they’d obviously been talking about it…she’d lived with them for much of her life and saw their occasional looks at each other. Even so, they encouraged her to do what she wanted to do. Her dad understood about the salary and the lack of graduate student funding for her at ASU, but emphasized (again) that they would help her with the cost of graduate school.
Carolyn also understood the part about salary and benefits. She’d been proactive in securing what funding she could for Jillian, but knew that it wasn’t remotely enough. On the positive side, she thought that the res
earch position might facilitate more interviews with women officers, maybe even women detectives. Carolyn expressed one concern…that the job might slow down the writing, and delay graduation, but, at the same time, she noted that Jillian had always been focused, had always met deadlines.
Felicia, who worked in a women’s shelter, was very positive about the possibilities in the job. She said something that reminded Jillian of what Wes Webb had said that day down by the Town Lake…that she could do the job in a way that would be sensitive to issues for women and people of color. Felicia had been a Justice Studies major—she and Jillian were in several undergrad classes together—and she had essentially designed her own degree in terms of her area of interest. She had taken domestic violence and related classes across the university…in Justice Studies, but also in Women and Gender Studies, and in Social Work. Her undergrad honors thesis had been a needs assessment of women’s shelters in the Valley. After graduation, she went to work for a shelter as a counsellor, but also as a grants person to secure additional funding to fill the very needs that she’d identified in her thesis. Felicia’s advice to Jillian about the job: “go for it.”
Eileen majored in Education with a social studies specialization. She’d taken several Justice Studies courses (with Jillian) to augment her social studies credential, and they’d often studied together. Eileen now taught Social Studies at Tempe High, a nice irony because she’d graduated from there…she often proudly wore a Buffalos sweatshirt (the school mascot). She told Jillian that her main goals as a high school teacher were to better educate high school students in the social sciences, and to create ‘little feminists.’ She was frustrated when high school girls said they weren’t feminists, but rather than just lecture them, Eileen employed other strategies. For example, she created a science fiction club for interested students—she happily accepted boys, but actively recruited girls. She had them read Ursula Le Guin, Octavia Butler, and of course Margaret Atwood. They even went as a club to see the women’s Ghostbusters film and also Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel. Eileen also encouraged Jillian to take the job. She told her, “Given your research interests AND your politics, this will put you at ‘ground zero.’ You can make a difference.”
Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar: Mystery Page 25