Chapter
9
Pettiway and Parish were leaving the station house when they saw the Apprehension Unit escorting in a handcuffed young, Hispanic teenager. Parish gave the teenager a glance but otherwise kept walking.
‘Another criminal off the streets,’ Parish thought as he passed them.
“Aye, I’m looking for Detectives Pettiway and Parish,” one of the officers from the Apprehension Unit said stopped in Parish.
“I’m Parish. And this is Pettiway. How can we help you?” Parish asked confused.
Pettiway knew instantly. It was their shooter. The young man they had been looking for all night.
“There was an APB out for this guy,” the officer said motioning towards the handcuffed teen. “We picked him up about an hour ago.”
“Yo, what’s going on, bee! I ain’t do shit!” the teen argued angrily.
“What’s your name, son?” Pettiway asked the teen.
“Jason Rodriguez. What this shit all about? I ain’t do shit!” the teen said adamantly.
“Well, we sit down and talk and see just what it is you did and didn’t do,” Pettiway said. “Officer, thank you for your help. I hope he wasn’t too much of a problem.”
“Not at all. Came along quietly.”
“Good. Good. You can take Mr. Rodriguez here down to the holding cell. I’ll be down there in a few minutes so we can get to the business at hand,” Pettiway told him.
“No problem,” the officer replied before leading Jason inside the station house.
“Well ain’t this a perfect start to a good morning,” Parish said beaming. “Let’s get in here and see if we can crack this guy.”
“Not just yet. Let’s go grab us some breakfast or some coffee. Let him sweat a bit in holding. It’ll be easier to shake him up that way,” Pettiway told his partner with a wry grin.
Parish smiled broadly. He liked that idea. “I am a little famished. I could use a hearty breakfast. The kind you gotta sit back and let digest slowly after you finish eating it.”
Two hours later the detectives had Jason Rodriguez sitting inside an interrogation room. He sat at an old, metal table with a cup of cold water and the all too familiar two way glass in front of him.
Jason fiddled with his fingers nervously before slouching in the chair only to start fidgeting again. A tell sign he was nervous. Every so often he would get up from his seat and pace around the small interrogation room trying to work off his edginess.
Parish stood along side of Pettiway and the Captain watching Jason lose it inside the room.
“Look like he’s ready to confess without us even have to ask a question,” Parish said with a satisfied smirk. In the Gang Unit, his way of interrogating suspects was more brutal and confrontational. In the Homicide Unit, it was more finesse. Goading the suspect in to a confession. Allowing them to implement their selves.
“Let’s see what Mr. Rodriguez here has to say about firing guns on the subway,” Pettiway as he begun to leave the viewing room.
As they entered the interrogation room Jason instantly stiffened up. His eyes darted from Pettiway to Parish with fear clouding them. He opened his mouth to say something but was silenced went Pettiway held up his hand.
“First off, are you hungry? Can we get you anything?” Pettiway asked him.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m a little hungry. I didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast this morning,” Jason said gratefully.
Pettiway turned to Parish and said, “Can you bring up a couple of bagels for Jason here? Thanks.”
Parish was shocked. He couldn’t believe he was being sent off during an important investigation like an errand boy. “A couple of bagels coming right up,” he said before storming out the interrogation room.
Pettiway sat down opposite of Jason, placing a large envelope on top of the table. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Jason replied nervously as he eyed the envelope. “Can you please tell me what’s going on here? I asked the officers but they wouldn’t tell me anything. I didn’t do anything. Only thing I had on me was some weed! That’s it!”
Pettiway opened up the envelope. He read over some information and then closed it. “Some weed? From what the officers reported, you had a pound and a half of marijuana when they executed the arrest warrant. That’s more than a little weed.”
“Hey, I like smoking,” Jason said non-challant.
“That goes without saying. But you’re not here for the weed. In fact, I could care less about the weed and might be inclined to act as if it was never found,” Pettiway told him as he stared him in the eyes with his hands folded on the table. “Three nights ago you fired a pistol in the subway station on 116th Street. Why don’t you tell me about that.”
“I…I don’t know what you talking about,” Jason lied.
“Jason,” Pettiway said empathetically letting out a breath of air, “let’s not start off with lies. That’ll make this talk go south real fast.”
“I want to help you so I can make the weed charge disappear but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Pettiway sat there silent for a moment. His mind racing and searching for any information he could use to get a confession. “Jason, you ever see them NYPD cameras posted up on certain corners through out the boroughs? Them cameras are there to not only record crimes but they also register gun shot reports with in a ten block radius. We have one of them on 116th and Third Avenue because it’s a high crime area.”
Jason listened, looking on blankly.
“That means, Jason, that every time a gun is fired with in the area of that camera it registers and automatically dispatch a patrol car without having to wait for 911 to be called by a concerned citizen. That’s what happened when you fired your gun in the subway three nights ago.” Jason got ready to say something but Pettiway held his hand up silencing him.
Parish barged inside the office carrying an arm full of bagels with an attitude. He dropped them on the table along with a hand full of condiments. “Here’s your breakfast. I brought extra just in case anybody else is hungry,” he said aiming the statement at Pettiway.
“Thank you. This is my partner Detective Parish,” Pettiway told Jason, making the introduction.
“Aye, what’s up?” Jason replied giving Parish a head nod.
“So, back to the shot cameras,” Pettiway said getting back to the interview. “Like I said the one on Third Avenue registered a shot around six p.m. Moments after the shot was reported you was seen exiting the subway on 116th and Lexington stuffing something inside your pocket. Now I can hypothesize on exactly what you stuffed in your pocket, especially after the token booth clerk saw you. But I rather hear it from the source.”
“Hy…hypothesize? What do that mean?” Jason asked confused.
“Hypothesize means an educated guess. In other words, a gun shot was recorded. A few seconds later you was seen leaving the scene stuffing something in your pocket. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know it was a gun you was stuffing in your pocket,” Pettiway explained.
“I…I didn’t shoot any gun,” Jason said as he reached for a bagel. He started to spread some butter on it as the detectives watched him closely.
“Is this guy serious?” Parish asked annoyed. “He can’t be serious. We got him dead to right. Fuck what he has to say. Let’s just charge him and close the case!”
Pettiway glanced over at livid partner. It was just the frustrated response he was hoping for when he sent him for the bagels. “You’re right. We do have him. But I would like to know why.”
“Who gives a damn why! He’s a gang banger. The victim is a gang banger. That’s the motive right there!”
“What?!” Jason asked stressed.
“Don’t act like you not banging, Jason! I did my time in the Gang Unit. I know ink when I see it,” Parish said as he reached out and grabbed Jason’s forearm. He snatched it, extending it across the table. “This is Latin King
ink, Jason! Who the fuck you think you fooling?!”
“I’ma a King but…,”
“But what, Jason?” Pettiway asked.
“But I didn’t kill anybody.”
“Nobody said you killed anybody,” Pettiway told him with a cynical smirk.
“Why…why would you have me here if I didn’t kill somebody?” Jason asked worried.
“Listen,” Pettiway began as smooth as possible, “We know you fired the gun. What I want to know it why. If it was a mistake then say so. If you was trying to hit somebody but missed then say that.”
Jason let out a defeated sigh. “Listen, I didn’t kill anyone. Me and my friend found a .22 on the tracks when we was walking between the stations. We was bombing the tunnels.” Bombing was when teenagers went around writing graffiti on the walls.
“Where did you find it?” Pettiway asked.
“We found it between the 106 and 110.”
“What happened when you found it?” Pettiway asked.
“We was checking the gun out. Arguing about whether it works or not.”
“Who pulled the trigger?” Pettiway asked.
Jason sighed and said, “I did.”
“Where did you fire the shot at?” Pettiway asked as Parish watched closely. It was as if he had finally gotten the big picture.
“We came out he tunnel at the back of the train on 116th Street. We was checking the gun out when it just went off,” Jason said feeling sorry.
“Did you stick around to see if the bullet hit anybody?” Pettiway asked.
Jason put his head down on the table, shaking it side to side. “Nah. I didn’t even wait to see. Once the shot went off I was gone. I was running towards the turnstile.”
“What about your friend?” Pettiway asked. “I’m going to need him to collaborate your story.”
Jason thought about it for a long minute. “I…I don’t want him to get in trouble. It’s no sense of him getting in trouble. I did it. All by myself.”
“Listen, if you really didn’t do it you need to tell me. There’s no need for you to get in trouble for something you didn’t do by yourself,” Pettiway told him in an understanding voice. When Jason didn’t answer Pettiway asked him, “What did you do with the gun?”
“I threw it away out on the street when we was running. Tossed it in the sewer,” Jason said defeated with his head still on table.
“Hold up a damn minute,” Parish said frustrated. “You a King. The Victim’s a Crip and you want us to believe everything was just an accident? You can’t be fucking serious!” he barked as he slammed his hand on the table.
Jason jumped before lifting his head off the table. The rim of his eyes were red from crying. “I don’t care what you believe, bro!” he told Parish defiantly. “I didn’t even know that dude. We didn’t have any beef!”
Pettiway saw the pain in Jason’s face. He reached out, placing his hand on Jason’s forearm in a comforting gesture. “Calm down, son. I believe you.” He then turned towards Parish and asked him, “Why don’t you go get us something to drink. Some soda or something from the machine.”
Parish pushed back from the table with an attitude. He gave Jason, then Pettiway an irritated glare before storming out of the interrogation room, slamming the door behind him as he left.
Once Parish was gone Pettiway told Jason, “I believe it was an accident, son. I can see that you’re sorry it happened. You don’t want to tell on your friend. I get that. Not too smart on your part but I understand your reasons. But here’s what I need from you.” Pettiway slid a legal pad and pen across the table to Jason. “I need you to write down exactly what happened. The way you told me it happened. And I need you to sign it for me. Alright?”
Jason looked down at the pen and pad like they were foreign objects. “O…okay.”
“And while you do that I’ma go and check on our sodas. See what’s taking my bone head partner so long,” Pettiway told him with a friendly smile before he got up from the table.
When Pettiway got out in the hallway he was met by the Captain and Parish. “Good work in there. I don’t think the D.A. will have any trouble with this one,” the Captain complimented Pettiway.
“Thanks Capt. More than likely he’ll plead out. I don’t see him taking this to trial,” Pettiway replied.
“More than likely. But that’s up to the D.A. to decide. Speaking of which, I’ll go put the call in to him. Let him know we have a confession and the case is wrapped up,” the Captain told Pettiway as he placed his hand on his shoulder.
As the Captain walked away Parish told Pettiway, “You know, I was really pissed when you sent me on the bagel run. I didn’t get it at first. The Good Cop, Bad Cop thing. But then it hit me,” with a sly smirk.
Pettiway cracked a smile. “Sometimes you get a detective with bad acting skills. The suspect doesn’t fall for it. But when you genuinely piss the detective off the Bad Cop routine works much Better. Frightened the hell out of the suspect.” He took two of the sodas from Parish and said, “I’ll be right back.”
“Here you go Jason,” Pettiway said as he stepped back inside the Interrogation Room. He handed him one of the sodas as he took a seat opposite him. “You almost finish there?” he asked as he looked down at the pad.
“Thanks,” Jason said taking the cold soda. “I just need a few more minutes.” He took a swig from the soda then asked Pettiway, “What’s going to happen now?”
“I’m going to have one of the officers take your statement then escort you to a holding cell and process you. While that happens, I’ll have you parents or girlfriend contacted so they know you’re safe.”
“Okay,” Jason replied as he began writing again.
Pettiway watched him for a moment, reading his body language. He felt bad for the young man. “Jason, I know this might seem like the worst thing in the world but you’re doing the right thing. It was all a bad accident and I can see that you really for sorry about that. I’ll let the D.A. know you’re sorry about what happens. He takes things like that into consideration.”
“Thank you,” Jason said as he looked up from the pad.
Pettiway got up from the table giving Jason one last look. “I have to go take care of some things. I’ll make sure to check in on you the first chance I get.”
“Okay.”
When Pettiway returned to the hallway he was met by a grinning Parish. “So what now, partner?” Parish asked him.
“Now, we go take that trip to Canarsie,” Pettiway answered as he headed down the hallway.
“To Canarsie? For what? We got the suspect already and a confession,” Parish said confused.
“We made a promise to the victim’s father. And sometimes a tragedy can help mend broken family ties,” Pettiway told him philosophically.
Last Stop Page 9
