By His Own Hand

by Neal Griffin

  As Tia headed back toward the PD, a task list formed in her mind. First thing was to finish up the warrant and get over to the courthouse. With any luck she’d find a friendly judge and get it signed before close of business. Once that was handled, she’d get started drilling down on every name on the list of retreat staff to see if that turned up anything. The planning made her feel energized and she quickened her step.

  NINETEEN

  Just as she reached the PD, her phone chimed with a text. It was from Ben.

  MY OFFICE ASAP

  No doubt he had a few things to say to her after meeting with Kowalski. Fine, Tia thought. The direct approach. She should have been included in the meeting to begin with and she’d let the Chief know it.

  Taking the back steps of the two-story building—the ones that led directly to the Chief’s office—Tia walked into the waiting area. She was surprised to find Rich Puller sitting outside Ben’s closed office door.

  “Rich? What’re you doing here?” Dressed in civilian attire, the rookie looked even younger than he did in uniform. He shrugged his shoulders, appearing despondent, but offered no explanation. The office door opened and Jimmy Youngblood walked out. His face flushed and set in a hard scowl, he stopped short when he saw Tia.

  “Hey, Jimmy.” Tia was confused. “I thought you were in Vegas?”

  “Change of plans.” The FTO glared at Tia. “I guess I should’ve figured you’d be in the middle of this.”

  “Middle of what?” Tia looked at Rich, then back at Youngblood. “What’s going on?”

  “Like you don’t know,” Youngblood said, then turned to his trainee, who had gotten to his feet. “Your turn, Puller.”

  Jimmy walked up until he was face-to-face with Rich. He spoke in a low voice, but Tia was only a few feet away and heard every word. “Shoulda listened to me, dumb shit. Now? Your ass is fried.”

  Behind him, Travis emerged from the Chief’s office and nodded at Tia. “Let’s go, Jimmy. We need to stop by the armory.”

  The men walked off, Jimmy casting a last look over his shoulder at Rich and Tia.

  “Officer Puller, sit tight.” Ben Sawyer stood in the doorway of his office. “Let me meet with Detective Suarez first.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tia could hear the dejection in Rich’s response as the younger officer sat down again, shoulders sagging.

  Stepping into Ben’s office, Tia closed the door behind her. “I guess I’m not here to talk about your meeting with Kowalski?”

  “What?” Ben sounded genuinely confused, but only for a moment. He shook his head. “You mean your public postmortem examination? Jesus, Tia. This time did you at least make sure you weren’t on camera?”

  “No promises, but hopefully not.” Tia couldn’t help but feel relieved that he seemed to be making light of it.

  He moved to his desk then stopped and turned, his hands on his hips. “Really, Tia? The parking lot?”

  “It wasn’t like that, Chief. Livy and I tried to—”

  “Not now.” He raised his hand to stop her. “You did what you had to do at the moment. I get it.”

  Another pang of guilt ran through her, this time for having ever doubted him. “Exactly, sir.”

  “Well, I can handle Kowalski. It’s not the first time he and I have disagreed. I didn’t call you here for that.”

  “Okay. Then, what?”

  Ben motioned Tia to the couch. “I just put Jimmy Youngblood on suspension, effective immediately.”

  “What?” she said, stunned. “Say that again, Chief?”

  “He’s suspended from all duties. Travis is collecting his gun and badge right now.” He took a deep breath. “Good chance he ends up getting terminated.”

  “Damn, Ben.” Tia didn’t hide her shock. “What the hell did he do?”

  “The one thing that’ll get a cop fired every time,” Ben said. “He lied.”

  Tia thought of Rich in the hallway and the comments Youngblood had made on his way out the door. She remembered her conversation with Youngblood at the crime scene about the response time.

  “This is about the DB call, isn’t it?” she asked, finally taking a seat.

  Ben turned a bit more officious. “You know something or are you guessing?”

  “I know it doesn’t take thirty minutes to get anywhere in this town at two A.M.”

  Ben nodded. “Unless you have to get dressed.”

  “Seriously?” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Please tell me he was with some other guy.”

  “Knock it off, this is serious.” Tia could see the situation pained him. “As soon as Travis brought me their reports, I got both Youngblood and Puller in here. Talked to each of them. I’m not going to go into details, but…”

  Ben looked at the ceiling, then closed his eyes. “Of all the calls, right? I mean, here we are, already at odds with the ME’s findings. We’ve got a half-dozen significant issues to overcome in what is looking more and more like a homicide, and now I’ve got to deal with the fact the first officer on scene was coming from his girlfriend’s house.”

  He returned his attention to Tia.

  “Honestly, I could’ve dealt with that. Hell, it’s no secret I’ve done worse. But Youngblood tried to cover himself and filed a false report. Then he doubled down on that and tried to get his trainee to lie. He took what might have been an ass-chewing and turned it into a cause for termination.”

  “He dragged Rich into it?” That was a step too far even for Tia, who had been known to bend a rule or two in her time.

  “Yeah, but the kid didn’t bite. Straight shooter.” Ben nodded his head toward the closed door. “Rich told the truth, but that pretty much burns Youngblood to the ground, and I don’t doubt for a moment Jimmy is going to get the word out to all the patrol dogs. Put his own spin on it.”

  “That puts the kid in a pretty lousy spot,” Tia said.

  “Exactly,” Ben said. “That’s where you come in.”

  “Me?” Tia didn’t like the sound of that. “How so?”

  “I’m temporarily assigning Puller to Investigations.” Ben paused. “Until further notice, he works for you.”

  “Excuse me?” Tia was not the least bit interested in having to babysit a trainee.

  “It’s just until things cool off. A few days, tops,” Ben said. “I’ll hit all the briefings. I can’t say much because it’s a personnel matter, but I’ll make it plain that Youngblood burned himself. His predicament has got nothing to do with Rich Puller.”

  “Just put out an email.”

  “That won’t do it and besides, emails always seem to end up in the wrong hands. I’m already going to get enough crap from the union. I don’t need the press or any other outside forces involved.”

  “Well, what do you want me to do with a trainee?”

  “Whatever, Tia. Just keep him out of the crosshairs. I know Jimmy’s got friends on the graveyard shift. I don’t doubt some of them will want to make things difficult for the kid.”

  Tia held up the envelope containing the list Sam Mills had given her. “Ben, I’ve got work to do. I just picked up the list of every staff member who worked at the retreat. There are over fifty names. Plus, I still need to finish the search warrant for the tower dump, and walk it over to the DA’s office.”

  “Great. You’re always bitching about how short staffed we are. Now you’ve got some help.”

  “From a probie? Seriously, Ben, the last thing I need is to be dragging around a clueless trainee.”

  “Like I said, it’ll only be for a few days.”

  Before Tia could argue any further, Ben put up a hand and shouted, “Puller, get in here!”

  Rich Puller opened the door and walked in. He stood in front of the Chief’s desk like he was getting ready to face a firing squad. “Reporting as ordered, sir.”

  “Until further notice you’re assigned to Investigations. You’ll work under the supervision of Detective Suarez. Understood?”

  Puller stared at his feet for
several seconds before looking up, his face a mask of confusion, his voice incredulous. “What?”

  “I said, you’ll answer to Detective Suarez.” Tia could hear Ben’s impatience. “You got a problem with that?”

  “No, sir. Not at all.” The beginning of relief edged into Rich’s voice. “I figured I was … I just thought … No, no problem at all. Thank you, sir.”

  It dawned on Tia that Rich had been sitting in the hallway waiting to be fired. In some departments, that might have happened—probationary trainees were always expendable. Realizing she’d been in similar situations herself, she felt her anger melt away. Through no fault of his own, the rookie had been dealt a pretty lousy hand and it wasn’t over yet.

  Tia reluctantly decided to go along with Ben’s plan.

  “You heard the Chief, Puller.” Still sitting in her chair, she looked him up and down. “You work for me now.”

  Relief flooded his voice, filling the office. “Yes, ma’am. I’m ready.”

  “Is that it, Chief?” She smiled at her boss and did her best to let him know he’d get no further resistance. “We got plenty of work to do.”

  “Good.” His expression and voice softened a touch. “I’ll let you guys get to it.”

  “What about your meeting with Mort?” Tia asked as she stood. “Are we good? You and me, I mean.”

  “We’re always good, Suarez,” he said. “Your methods, sometimes? Those, I might have a problem with. But yeah. We’re good.”

  TWENTY

  “So, you want to tell me about it?”

  Tia and Rich sat alone in the detective bullpen, Tia behind her desk and Rich in the chair usually reserved for victims or witnesses.

  “What’s to tell? Sergeant Jackson told me to write a thorough report, so I did. Then Chief Sawyer called me in, started asking questions. Wanted to know why it took so long for us to get on scene.” Rich shrugged. “So I told him.”

  “It’s all right, Rich.” Tia wasn’t going to push him. “You don’t have to—”

  “Look,” Rich said firmly. “All I know is, usually around one in the morning, Officer Youngblood tells me to drive to a house over on Taft. He goes inside, I stay in the car. If a call comes over the radio, I answer. He hears the call on his portable and usually comes right out.”

  “Usually? How often does this happen?”

  “Every night.”

  “Every night? Holy…” Tia’s voice faded and she wondered how Ben would handle this mess.

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Rich said. “But honestly? I never cared. Meant less time for him to be crawling up my ass about one thing or another. Or talking about all the girls he slept with in high school.”

  “Ah, yeah. I imagine that gets old.”

  “You have no idea.” Rich took a deep breath. “So, what? I’m a rat now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I told Chief Sawyer the truth. About Youngblood, that is.” Rich looked at Tia with as much insight as a cop with six weeks of experience can muster. “I might not know much about police work, but I know that makes me a rat.”

  “That’s Hollywood crap, Rich.” Tia leaned toward him. “All that ‘blue wall’ stuff? It’s true. You’re damn right cops stand together, but there’s a limit. Most cops I know, any decent cop, that is, they don’t expect you to lie to cover up for somebody. All that dumb-ass Youngblood had to do was tell the truth. He definitely would have gotten chewed out. Probably even suspended for a few days. Now? He’ll be lucky if he keeps his job.”

  “Seriously?” Rich said. “That seems pretty harsh.”

  “Think about it.” Tia figured she might as well start his training. “You’re a cop who’s got a documented reprimand for lying. Filing a false report.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So now, every time a defense lawyer files a Pitchess motion to get a look at your internal affairs file, they’re going to see that you’ve been untruthful in the past.”

  “A what motion?”

  “Never mind, that’s not the point.” Tia wanted Rich to get it. “Let’s just say that by some miracle Youngblood actually ends up doing some actual police work. Say he trips over a key piece of evidence in a major case. But his personnel record shows that he’s got a prior for dishonesty. How’s that going to go over with a jury? Think OJ, you know what I mean?”

  Rich stared back, his face blank, and Tia tried again. “You know, Mark Fuhrman?”

  “Who?”

  Tia shook her head and started to wonder if she’d make much of an FTO. “Bottom line, Rich. Juries don’t trust cops as it is. Put one on the stand who’s a known liar? A documented bullshit artist? Forget about it.”

  Rich nodded as if it was starting to make sense. “I guess I didn’t think of it like that.”

  “You should. You’re a cop now. You have to think like that,” Tia said. “And just remember, this isn’t on you. Youngblood’s an asshole for putting you in this position. That’s how most anyone is going to see it. You’ll come out of this fine.”

  “Then why am I working for you? Why can’t I finish up my training? I only had three days to go.”

  “Chief’s just playing it safe. You’ll be back on patrol in no time.” Tia pushed back her chair. “But for now, like the man said, you work for me.”

  “All right,” Rich said. “I’m ready.”

  “I hope so, because our suicide? Looks more like a homicide.”

  That got Rich’s attention. “Seriously? Somebody murdered him?”

  “Yep, but we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  Tia handed him the manila envelope. “This is a list of all the staff members who were at the church retreat. I need you to run every name. Have you done anything like that?”

  “Yeah.” Rich took the list out of the envelope and began studying the three pages. “My first week of training was in the records division. I learned about all the different databases. At least the basic ones. Pretty simple.”

  “Oh, was it? Well, let’s see how you do. First you should check CHRIS, the Criminal History Records Information System. That’ll give you any previous arrests, crime reports, traffic tickets, any police contacts. That’s what I’m looking for, all right? Prior contacts with police. Anything at all. Got it?”

  Rich nodded. “Got it.”

  “Might as well run the names through the sex offenders registry, too.” Tia pointed to an empty desk. “Use Bruno’s desk. He’s on vacation until next week.”

  Rich nodded and moved to the workspace. “I’m on it, Detec—sorry. Tia.”

  “Great.” Tia moved to her own desk. “I’m going to finish up a search warrant for cell tower info. I want to try to get a judge to sign off on it today.”

  Rich looked up from where he was sitting. “And thanks, by the way.”

  “How’s that?” Tia asked.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged, looking self-conscious. “For listening. For not calling me a rat or anything.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Tia looked up from her keyboard. “With a name like Dick Puller? Hell, boy. Rat would be an improvement.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Tia stood over the sink and scraped a plate of grease, corncob, and bits of fat and gristle into a large bowl, all under Ringo’s watchful eye. The dog stood almost as tall as Tia, his front paws on the kitchen counter, his tail smacking the wall with the steady beat of a metronome. The smell of grilled meat lingered in the farmhouse where Connor and Tia had sat at the small dining room table, enjoying their first meal together in nearly a week. Tia had saved a few prime pieces of steak for the dog, and judging by the stream of drool, he had obviously figured out what was coming. She tossed a chunk of meat in his general direction and Ringo snatched the food in midair, practically inhaling it. Just as quickly as the meat disappeared, he stared at Tia, focused and ready for the next bite.

  “Atta boy.” She figured this feeling was the closest she’d ever come
to maternal pride.

  She used her shoulder and upper body to shove the dog back onto all fours. After a few minutes of playful torture, she put the bowl on the kitchen floor.

  “There you go, killer. It’s all yours.” He plunged his muzzle into the bowl and Tia knew it would be a while before he looked up.

  Standing at the sink, finishing the dishes, Tia was glad to have Ringo for company. Connor had gone to work an extra shift—a double tractor trailer was due in and the store’s shelves had to be fully stocked when the doors opened at 6:00 A.M. The job paid a buck over minimum wage, and the hours of heavy lifting would play hell on his legs, but with the PD’s salary freeze and no overtime pay, there was no convincing Connor to give up his grocery store paycheck. Tonight’s steak dinner had been a luxury, but one they both thought was worth it.

  She thought back to their conversation before he’d left for work. They’d been sitting on the bed and she was working on snapping the last buckle on his prosthetics. He had his legs draped across her lap, his voice relaxed and full of contentment. He reached out his hand and stroked her cheek.

  “We need to do that more often. Sit, I mean. Together. Talk.”

  She’d leaned in and kissed him, then whispered in his ear, “We need to do this more often.”

  Tia walked into the living room, stepping around Ringo, who was pushing the empty bowl across the floor with the power of his tongue. “It’s empty, boy. Let it go already.”

  Tia was still amped up from her crazy but productive day. The fiasco in the parking lot felt like it happened weeks ago, but it had just been that morning. As tragic as the case might be, working a homicide was a consuming and invigorating experience, a break from the routine of bar fights and the occasional street robbery. She also realized how close she’d come to putting the boy in the ground without concern. Just another tragic case of a Native American suicide.

  She’d written the warrant for the tower dump requesting ten days’ worth of data from the single tower in the vicinity and driven to the county courthouse in Waukesha. She struck out on locating a friendly judge and had to shop it around, eventually finding herself in the chambers of the duty judge, Andrea Jacoby. Known as a no-nonsense civil libertarian, Judge Jacoby gave Tia even more judicial pushback than she had anticipated. Judge Jacoby made it clear she was not keen on the idea of police gaining access to a cache of unrelated cell phone information. During a lengthy discussion, Tia explained that few calls would likely be part of the dump, given the cell tower’s location and the time period covered by the request. She also assured the judge that there were no less-intrusive means by which to gain the needed information. In the end, Judge Jacoby said she would allow access to the data from the night of the shooting. No more. Frustrated but feeling fortunate to leave with something Tia took the signed search warrant and swung by the post office. She overnighted copies of the warrant to all major service providers, asking for an exigent handling.