by Mark Zubro
“It isn’t,” Turner agreed.
More drink gulping. Zuyland’s latest glass was almost empty. Zuyland looked around for the waitress, caught her eye, and pointed at his drink. She nodded.
Zuyland said, “I moved my feet away. I hurried up and left the stall. I went to wash my hands. The two of them came up, one on each side of me. I moved to go to the hand dryer and Callaghan moved at the same moment. By accident, I swear, it was by accident, my hand came in contact with the front of his pants. For about a second. What followed was a nightmare. A nightmare. I wasn’t trying anything.”
He began to cry. Turner didn’t know if the tears came from remorse, regret, fear, too much booze. Guzzling at noon on a Saturday. Was the guy an alcoholic? Not to be trusted? Of limited use? But Zuyland wasn’t on a witness stand with an attorney trying to destroy his credibility. They were cops looking for an angle.
Turner said, “We believe you.” What he believed was that something happened and that Callaghan and Belger were prepared to make an incident out of it.
“I explained it was just an accidental bump. They threw the bolt in the door so no one could get in or out. I begged and pleaded. They knew who I was. They were mad because of some stories I’d run. They’d been planning to set me up. They’d been following me.”
Ian said, “Mr. Zuyland, that washroom used to be known as a gay cruising place.”
“It was a coincidence. I’m not gay. I’m not.”
“What did they do next?” Turner asked.
“They told me they were going to reveal I was gay. That I’d come on to them in the washroom. That it was two against one. That I’d touched one of them. That boob Larry Craig at least had the sense not to touch the cop. I began screaming at them. Hoping someone would hear. They tried to shut me up. I wouldn’t. That’s when the taser came out. I got jolted hard.”
Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He wiped his forehead. The waitress arrived with his next drink and his food. He gulped the liquid and ate a French fry.
“But you didn’t report it.”
“They had me scared. But they weren’t going to make an arrest either. I figured that out. They wanted something. They wanted all negative news reports about cops stopped. I told them I didn’t have the power to do that. People would get suspicious. They told me I had to do it. I kept my word.”
“But you set them up at the bar?” Turner asked.
“Yep, they were a couple of dumb cops, no offense.”
Fenwick said, “Offense taken.”
Zuyland frowned. “They’d been spying on me. I can play that game, and I’m very good at it. Better than they are. I graduated summa cum laude from Northwestern. I got nearly perfect scores on my college entrance exams. I knew I was smarter than them. I knew I just had to bide my time. I’d get them. I’m a good investigative reporter. A great investigative reporter.”
He gripped the stem of his drink and leaned forward. “I got the bastards. I found their weaknesses. I know more about them than they know about themselves. They’ve both had huge amounts of complaints against them from the public.”
Turner said, “We only found complaints in Belger’s file.”
Zuyland said, “Trust me, it was both. If you didn’t find complaints about Callaghan, it means somebody cleaned out the files. Sounds like he’s got powerful friends.”
“Boyle,” Ian said. “It’s gotta be him. He’s the immediate supervisor.”
Turner asked, “Did you find any connection between Boyle and these guys?”
Zuyland said, “He was their first supervisor out of the academy. He was a lieutenant back then. I have nothing more than that.”
“What were the complaints about?”
“Abuse. Lack of respect. But there was more. Much more. The two of them specialized in death scenes.”
Turner sipped his water. He’d heard of such things. Cops who found a dead body in a home or apartment went through the dwelling before any witnesses showed up and before calling it in. Some cops became very good at being able to find people’s hiding places for money and valuables.
Zuyland said, “These two were known for it. You never heard of them doing that?”
“No,” Turner said. “They were never on a case that we were on.”
Zuyland said, “I found out that over the years, they stole tens of thousands. It was the kind of thing that was hard to prove. The dead person was the one who’d been hoarding the cash. No relative could prove there’d even been a stash. A few tried, but gave up. There were too many cops involved. There was that blue-stone-wall of silence.”
His new drink arrived and he smiled at it. He said, “I love revenge. Love it. Love it. Love it. Turns out, I wasn’t the first one they caught in that washroom. I found others who they threatened. Closeted guys. Pathetic guys who would pay anything to avoid getting arrested.”
Ian said, “You’d think the day of that kind of shit would be over, especially in a big city.”
Zuyland said, “You can be scared in a big city or a little town. It kind of depends on you, I think. But I found several sources on it. I talked to the guys.”
Turner said, “Blackmail. And they kept it quiet? How long has this been going on?”
“I started investigating just after the incident with me over two years ago. It took quite a while. People were afraid to talk to me.”
Fenwick said, “But cops get sued all the time.”
“By gay guys? Successfully? Sure, since that Sun-Times editorial, everyone knows the percent of cop complaints that are decided in favor of the complainers.”
Turner appreciated the statistic, but he wasn’t sure how many more times he wanted to hear it. None, he guessed. But that wasn’t his choice right now.
Ian said, “Why didn’t you ask the gay press for help?”
“Had you heard of this going on?”
“No.”
“Then try not to take this the wrong way, but I’m big time, and the gay press is not.”
Ian said, “I think I’ll take it the wrong way.”
Turner said, “Why didn’t you report them?”
“I wanted it perfect,” Zuyland said. “I could get the blackmail victims to talk to me, but they wouldn’t help me set up Belger and Callaghan. I plotted and planned. Finally, I found someone who would help. What happened in that bar that night was my idea. I set up those fuckers. I knew their schedules. I followed them. I know where they went to try and take naps on their shift. I know where they ate doughnuts and where they stopped to take a piss. I knew everything. Those two were a menace to the city. I’m glad I caught them. I knew I would get them eventually. I just needed to be patient, and I was. My boss loves anti-cop stuff, and they were poster boys for police imperfection.”
“So you got the goods on them,” Fenwick said. “Why didn’t you just do a huge exposé? Or if you didn’t want to take the risk, give your data to another station or to a print reporter?”
“No. No. No. No. No. They were mean to me. They laughed at me. I was determined to make them pay. And I wanted them to know it was me. But I had to be wary. They had that damn taser incident. They’ve paid a little. They’re going to pay more. All the rest of this will come out.”
Fenwick pointed out, “Belger isn’t going to pay any more. He’s dead.”
“Dead or alive, I’ll stomp on both of them.”
Turner said, “You wanted them to know it was you. Do they?”
“Not as much as they will.”
Fenwick reiterated his earlier point, “Belger, not so much, him being dead and all.”
Zuyland sipped from his drink.
“The tasering incident was bullshit,” Ian said. “Why didn’t you report them? Do something about it?”
“You know what it’s like working at a local network television station? You know what it takes to hang on? To be judged every second with vultures panting for your job? In this business, you’ve got to be young and pretty, neither of which I am. And Ralph Zuyland a
s a name to sell as a young, hip, newscaster? I actually have to work hard and prove myself every goddamn minute. Those people will cut your throat out if you make the slightest slip. You know all that happy talk on camera? It’s bullshit. All bullshit.”
Fenwick asked, “In your investigating did you know Belger was into getting whipped?”
Zuyland gave the detectives a suspicious look. “He was found at that gay party. He was into it?”
“We’re not sure exactly what he was into,” Fenwick said. “I thought we’d ask you since you’d been investigating them.”
“Far as I know they were straight. I got nothing on whipping or going to gay events. Why was he there?”
Turner said, “We’ll give you both some information, as long as it’s off the record.”
“You trust me?” Zuyland asked.
“I trust you want the biggest exclusive when we find out who did it,” Turner said.
Zuyland nodded. “Which is true.”
He didn’t tell Zuyland that Ian already knew most of this. Let the television reporter assume he was in the same boat as the print reporter.
Fenwick said, “Belger was into getting whipped. It wasn’t what killed him, but was a scene he must have liked.”
“He was gay? He’s been married twice.”
“Not an impossible thing,” Ian said.
Zuyland said, “I’ve seen stranger.”
Fenwick asked, “You didn’t know Belger appeared on a gay website?”
“No, I never found that. He did?”
“Yep,” Fenwick said.
Zuyland said, “If I knew, I would have used that against him.”
Turner appreciated the honesty. Turner asked, “How’d you get Belger and Callaghan to fight that evening? What did you do to set them off? And how did you know it would be in that bar? Or did you have spies at several spots?”
“I told you. I knew everything. I knew they went to that bar every Thursday. I’d left messages for Belger that Callaghan was turning on him. Then just before the end of their shift, I made a call. I disguised my voice with one of those computer deals. I told Callaghan that Belger would be wearing a wire at the bar. I thought what I’d be getting was those two fighting. I didn’t think that stupid cow bartender would intervene, but from the way it turned out, that was even better.”
Fenwick said, “So you conspired and lied to two guys, and your lies led to the death of one of them. That’s a felony in this jurisdiction.”
“Maybe I’d be guilty in some way if they’d killed each other that night. But they didn’t. And Belger is dead. And I’m guessing that Callaghan has a solid alibi.” He smirked when the detectives didn’t answer. “My way was best.”
Fenwick said, “You are a supershit.”
“Huh?” Zuyland said.
“The bartender got caught in your clever web. She was seriously hurt. Your super-smart self got her beat up. What if she got killed?”
“She didn’t.”
Turner said, “You put an innocent person in danger. Period. You are a shit.”
Zuyland looked at Ian. Got no sympathy there.
“You want me to leave? I don’t have to help you guys.”
Fenwick said, “You can leave if you want. You’ll get no help from us. No scoop. But we’re not dealing with you, not without it being real clear that you are culpable here. The taser stuff is shit. Getting an innocent person hurt, then you are shit. Be honest enough to admit it.”
Silence. Zuyland looked at all three. Hung his head. “Okay,” he muttered. “You’re right. I screwed up that part. I’m sorry. If I can, I’ll make it up to her.”
Turner said, “We’ll expect it.”
Zuyland said, “I keep my word.”
“When is the other information coming out?” Fenwick asked. “And the other part of the video?”
“Maybe soon. Maybe never. Right now, I am part of Callaghan’s downfall. He tasered me. He should suffer the most. If he was dead, he couldn’t suffer. Alive, he’s miserable. I’ll know the right time to pile on.”
Or if Callaghan figured this out, Zuyland could be in danger of getting killed.
“What did you need Dinning for?”
“If I was recognized in that bar, I might be lucky to get out with a simple tasering. God, that hurt. You ever been tasered?”
They shook their heads.
Turner said, “Dinning recorded the bartender getting beat up. You weren’t in the bar. Who called the rest of the cops?”
“I don’t know.”
Fenwick growled. Zuyland recoiled from the menace. He said, “Are you guys going to start being vicious?”
Turner said, “You’ve admitted to some pretty shady activities. How do we know we should believe you about any of these things? And who actually called it in could be a key point.”
Zuyland lifted his drink and took another long gulp. “I don’t know,” he said. “At this point I’m not sure I care.”
Turner said, “Bullshit. Nobody can plan something as you claim to have and then count on the cops to show up at exactly the right moment. Even if someone in the bar signaled you, and you called them that instant, there’s no guarantee they’d show up in five seconds, or five minutes. Not to a known cop bar. You had to have help. You had to have cops on your side.”
“I didn’t call it in.”
“You didn’t have to call it in,” Turner said. “Stop playing finesse games.”
Zuyland gulped. Looked at Ian, Fenwick, and back to Turner. If he was expecting some kind of rescue from any of them, he was out of luck.
Zuyland said, “Okay. I know a few good cops. They owed me. We’re friends.”
“You involved them,” Turner said. “If it became known you involved them, they could have been in danger. Did you even think beyond yourself about what might happen to other people?”
Zuyland stared down into his drink.
Fenwick said, “Who are the cops?”
“No way. No. No. No. No. No. Throw me in jail. I won’t tell you. I won’t. Telling you might jeopardize their careers. I know I will keep my mouth shut.”
Ian said, “You’re not as smart as you think you are.”
Zuyland stabbed a finger at Ian. “At least I did something. I tried to make things right. And now Belger is dead and Callaghan is suffering. This thing isn’t in his control, and that’s a start, unless the cops get to you two, and you two become part of a cover-up.”
Turner ignored the invitation to defend themselves. He asked, “Have people been harassing you since you did the report on Belger and Callaghan?”
“I sent the video to all the media outlets I could think of here and nationally. Of course, we had it first. The cops might have a spy in the office or at least someone sympathetic to the cops who might have told them it originated with us, but so far no one from the police seems to know the connection between me and Dinning.”
“Except us,” Fenwick said.
“I’ve trusted you.”
Ian said, “And they can be trusted. You’ll be safe.”
Turner asked, “After the video came out, why didn’t they make good on their threat about you?”
“Ah, but they don’t know I planned the whole thing. They may know my station had the video first, but they don’t know I was the one who got it for us. My boss did the disseminating.”
“They didn’t at least try to talk to you?” Turner asked. “Maybe to get you to tone down coverage?”
“Events moved too quickly. The video spoke for itself. It didn’t take a lot of reporting. You just had to watch it.”
“You left Dinning hung out to dry,” Ian said. “He’s been threatened, and you’re hiding behind your media badge.”
“If I could, I’d help him.”
Ian said, “Maybe you should start by taking his calls.”
Zuyland looked abashed. He said, “I haven’t had a free and clear time of it. The ratings went way up each time I did a story on the cops. Once I was free
of their threats, I wasn’t about to be stopped. Every report I’ve done on cops since that video came out has been delicious.”
“What if they came up with another plan to get back at you? You may be clever, but they were cops. They’d only be limited by their imaginations and how desperate they were.”
“Ah, but you see, now, I’m one among many. It’s not just me. And I’m smart, like I said. I gave some of my biggest scoops about cop corruption to other reporters and other stations. And remember, all the news outlets were doing ‘bad-cop’ stories. We weren’t even the most aggressive. I hid myself out in the open, but in the back of the crowd. You know how it’s been in this city. The cops have had problems for years now. They’ve been out of control since before the Democratic convention in ’68 and even earlier. I was in the streets in ’68. I know what it’s like to watch the police be out of control. I know how the establishment rallies behind their own. You guys won’t get far. You’ll be stopped. Or you’ll just rally around them. But it’s not that easy any more. We’ve got the media. We’ve got the video.”
Turner said, “Belger and Callaghan weren’t cops in ’68.”
“I don’t care. Cops are out of control in this town. And those two tried to destroy me. It’s got to stop. If I can be part of stopping it, I will. You can’t make threats.”
Turner said, “I wasn’t planning to. I’m just trying to solve a murder.”
Fenwick asked, “Where were you Friday evening?”
“I’m not gay. I wasn’t at the Black and Blue party.”
Turner said, “You don’t have to be gay to be a murderer or to have been at the party. There were ways to get into the party where you wouldn’t be noticed.”
“You can see me on videos of the news that night.”
“Which can be prerecorded,” Turner said. “Who can vouch for you?”
“I did the ten o’clock news, then I grabbed a burger and went home. My cameraman, anyone at the station can vouch for me.”
Ian said, “I’ve got a source that says he saw you at the party.”
“Who says that? They’re lying. Did Dinning say that? Was he at the party?”
Ian said, “It’s a confidential source.”
“Bullshit. If you don’t produce the person, then you’re making it up.”