As she sautéed some of these ingredients and steamed others, Jillian thought about being a kid and the fun she had cooking with Mom…learning how to put a meal together from seemingly nothing. Dad always said that her mom had a secret drawer in the fridge where she stashed the ingredients for a meal that she could whip-up from ‘out of the blue.’
Jillian thought that maybe this was one of the reasons she liked to cook, not elaborate planned-in-advance meals, rather ones that came from the equivalent of Mom’s secret drawer. She also put a bottle of French Pinot Noir in the fridge to give it a little chill…compliments of Mom, too.
She set the timer, and while the pizza baked, Jillian thought about Clay Neely…for the first time in a while. She wondered if he popped into her mind because Ersula had asked about him earlier, or because she’d gone to judo class.
Clay Neely happened when Jillian had been working in the Research Division for not-yet a year. She was assigned to a work-group that was focusing on ‘intelligence led policing.’ The hope was that collecting and analyzing crime data could help the police administration better understand crime patterns and deploy resources where they were needed the most…maybe even in a preventive way. Jillian had taken workshops in GIS and had become proficient in her work. And, that’s when she saw it.
‘It’ being an almost textbook case of data collection, predictive modelling, and analysis. There had been a string of armed robberies at liquor stores in Tempe. Any armed robbery is a dangerous event—after all, the criminal has a weapon, probably a gun—but these were particularly bad because the robber was so threatening…two of the victims said the guy was so over the top that they had been afraid for their lives. Five robberies in, Jillian saw what she thought was a pattern. Lt. Timms, her division director, was out on maternity leave so, as they’d planned, she went directly to the detective who headed the investigation into these robberies: Sergeant Larry Gruber. Sgt. Gruber was very ‘old school.’ It was almost as if Sergeant was his first name. He was the sort of stereotype that Jillian had thrown up to Professor Billy Gilroy when she explained that detectives came in a variety of types.
Jillian had met with Sgt. Gruber and presented her data…summarized, of course, so that he could understand her analysis. She explained the patterns that her analysis predicted. In response, he derided her analysis and said that “real police work didn’t involve ‘thingies’ on a computer screen,” and then literally shewed Jillian out of his office.
A few days later, another armed robbery confirmed the pattern that she’d seen in her models. She ran more models, saw what she was looking for, and again went to Sgt. Gruber. He’d again poo-pooed her observations. He said that they had good intel about the armed robber’s identity, and that they were closing-in. Sgt. Gruber again dismissed Jillian and this time he actually called her “girlie,” and suggested that she and her “little nerd friends should get back to their Candy Crush games or whatever it is that you people do over there.”
She didn’t know what to do: the lieutenant was out for several more weeks and Tim Hughes, Jillian’s immediate supervisor, was brand new—literally his second week on the job—and reluctant to take on Sgt. Gruber. Although they had a nice esprit d’ corps, everyone on their team had had it drilled-in that they were not to antagonize the ‘the cops on the ground.’
So, what to do? Jillian’s follow-up work was a combination of more simulated models with a dollop of common sense, augmented by some high-level computer work…she googled some stuff. According to her calculations—OK maybe that was too strong of a word, but this certainly was more than a hunch—the next robbery would occur on Friday night, and at one of three locations.
Again, what to do? Unlike Ersula Tenney, Jillian was not a ‘thrill of the chase’ kind of person. She was mad, though, about how Sgt. Gruber had dissed her and the team, and that he’d called her ‘girlie.’ Still, she didn’t see her next move as a ‘stake-out’ so much as that she was just going to a movie.
One of the three locations on her predicted ‘hit list’ was in a strip mall that also contained a second-run movie theatre. The mall was in a quiet middle-class neighborhood—part residential, part commercial—in south Tempe. Jillian checked the movie times on line and decided to go to a 9:00 movie…tomorrow was Saturday, so what the hey? She’d sit in her car till time for the movie and if nothing happened, then this was just data collection. But, if something did happen, if her predictions were validated, she’d call 9-11...no harm, no foul. Sure, she parked her car at 8:15pm and closer to the possible location than to the theater. The parking spaces were parallel to the mall, and Jillian was in the first row nearest the mall so her view out the driver’s side window was unobstructed…maybe 40 yards away.
Her prediction was correct, and she either was lucky or unlucky…depending on how you looked at it, because he chose the location across from where she sat in her car. At about 8:40pm, Clay Neely appeared. He immediately caught Jillian’s attention because, as he approached the door to the store, he looked around furtively, but his looks were left to right, and not the 40 yards or so behind him to the parking lot where Jillian watched from her car.
As Neely entered the shop, in quick, successive motions he pulled a ski mask over his head and drew a pistol. He immediately brandished it in a threatening manner to the clerk, whose hands went up, either automatically or because Neely ordered it. The clerk then lowered his hands, opened the cash drawer and took out a wad of cash. He handed the money to Neely and then disappeared behind the counter…she figured Neely had ordered him down to the floor.
Neely turned and headed for the front door. As he exited the shop, he first tucked the pistol back into his belt…behind his back so that it wasn’t visible. He was removing the ski mask when he spotted Jillian, now standing about 10 yards away…directly in front of him.
Jillian hadn’t consciously left her car…everything had just happened so fast (twenty seconds at most), too fast to think, much less call 9-11, and the robber was threatening the clerk…and she literally found herself facing Clay Neely, as much to her surprise as to his. He was fairly big—five eight and 180 pounds. For some reason…maybe because his gun was in his rear waist-band, instead of reaching for it, he charged her.
Jillian didn’t think. She became very still, physically and mentally, like you’re supposed to, like she’d practiced repeatedly in class. She employed the ogoshi move…the hip throw. When Neely was almost on her, with her left arm she grabbed under his right forearm getting more sleeve than flesh, like you’re supposed to, shifted her right arm to his rear waist, and, lifted him onto and over her right rear hip, and threw him to the ground…all in one fluid motion, and generated by his own momentum. In class, students are taught how to fall so that they are not injured when thrown. Not so with Neely; he landed hard on his back and hip with a loud oomph.
Jillian hoped he’d stay down, but he didn’t. Neely looked up at her and said, “Fucking bitch…I’ll kill you.” He started to rise and, at the same time, remove the gun from his rear waistband. These movements were awkward, and he was also addled from the throw and the jarring landing. As he stood but before he could fully regain his balance or level the gun, Jillian grabbed Neely’s right arm with her left hand—again, more sleeve than flesh—and jerked him even more off balance. As her right arm grasped the back of his neck, she angled her body slightly backward, lifting her right leg back and up and between both of his legs all the way to his rear. He was off balance from the jerk, and she used both hands and her right leg to throw him even more off kilter, and to leverage another over-the-hip throw—uchi mata, inner thigh throw—this one maybe even harder than the first throw, driving him to the sidewalk. As a part of her follow-through with her right arm, Jillian grabbed the now loosely held gun with her right hand. This time he didn’t arise, either because of the force of his fall or because she had a gun pointed at him. Jillian had never held a gun before and didn’t like po
inting it at Clay Neely…but, she did.
With her left hand, Jillian took her cell phone from her back pocket and dialed 9-11. She did it quickly, trying not to take her eyes from Neely. Mostly, he laid there, groaning.
Jillian lucked-out…she knew the 9-11 operator: Charnell Tate. She and Charnell had started with Tempe PD at the same time and had been in several orientation/personnel sessions together. Charnell had a serious New York City accent, so Jillian recognized her immediately, identified herself, and said that she needed help. After she’d briefly described what had happened, Charnell said, “OMG, what are you doing, Jillian? Law & Order is off the air now…you’re supposed to be over at your office thinking ‘bout crime data. Hold a sec,” and there was dead air.
Then, she was back. ”OK, I got Officer Terrell Benn dispatched over to you. I told him you were PD and that you’ve drawn down on a perp, so he won’t come in all Rambo.”
Charnell stayed on the phone with Jillian until Officer Benn arrived. By that time, the clerk had peaked his head up from behind the counter, and came out to be with Jillian. His name was Debajon, and he owned the store…he’d also called 9-11. Officer Benn arrived first…the other black and white rolled-up about a minute later.
B I N G…The oven timer beeped…loud, a little metallic, but not unpleasant…interrupting Jillian’s remembrance. She opened the oven door, glanced inside, thought a second, then cancelled Bake, turned on Broil, and again set the timer. She wanted the vegies on top to be crisp. She uncorked the pinot and had a glass while waiting for her pizza. And returned to her thoughts.
The pattern Jillian had seen in the data was that Clay Neely had shifted targets: he’d stopped robbing liquor stores and started robbing high end wine shops. The reason was simple: ‘the take.’ His liquor store robberies were netting him about $700 per crime; the wine shops were netting more than twice that. As she’d looked at these data, Jillian thought about her graduate Justice Theory class where they’d read Jeremy Bentham, the British thinker from the late 1700s. His Utilitarian theory—she even remembered his term, ‘hedonistic calculus’—explained Neely’s actions…a rational economic decision…and, unfortunately for him, one that also led to accurate predictions. After her last round of models, Jillian did a google search and identified three wine shops in Tempe that he had not robbed, yet. They were the ’possibles’ for that Friday night. He chose the one near the movie theater…and she was there.
Sgt. Gruber’s intel was right and wrong: ultimately, it did ID a robber, just not the liquor store guy…not Clay Neely. Sgt. Gruber was nearing retirement and wanted one last collar so he could go out a winner.
Clay Neely’s hip was broken, which is why he didn’t get up after Jillian’s second throw.
Two days later, Jillian found herself in Chief McCaslin’s office…Lt. Timms was there, too. Jillian felt bad that Linda had to come in from maternity leave. She also steeled herself…thinking there was a good chance that she’d be fired.
Linda Timms first words after they convened, were “Jillian, what on earth were you thinking? Clay Neely, who by the way is claiming ‘police brutality,’ has a fairly nasty criminal record...he’s an armed robber…you could have been killed.” She paused, waiting for an answer…this was not a rhetorical question.
Jillian had, of course, thought about what she would say, and she said it. “I work here…this is my job. I believe in what the team’s doing…it works. It works,” she repeated, and leaned toward Lt. Timms for emphasis. “And, really, I didn’t know what to do. I know it was stupid that I went to that wine shop…I just wanted to see for myself if the models were right. As to why I got out of the car and confronted that guy…I honestly have no idea. I didn’t even know I was doing it until…there he was. I’m sorry, I really am…and please, don’t blame this on the team…no one knew that I was going there.”
Chief McCaslin spoke for the first time. “Yes, we know…we’ve already spoken with Tim Hughes, and he agreed that you did this on your own.” As she said this, she gave Jillian ‘the eye.’ “He also told us that you tried to go through the proper channels, but Sgt. Gruber wouldn’t listen. Still, this was really foolhardy Ms. Warne.”
“I know. I’m sorry if I’ve gotten us in trouble…is this guy going to sue us?”
The Chief laughed, “Who knows? Maybe. I think that any law suit may be weakened by the fact that he’d just committed an armed robbery and also pulled a gun on you. And that wine shop owner over there thinks you’re a hero. He’s offered to be a character witness…I don’t know why, maybe too many TV lawyer shows.” She paused, and glanced at a report on her desk. “Says here you used judo to subdue Mr. Neely…is that correct?”
“Yes, Chief, I’ve been taking judo for…well, since before I started working here.”
The Chief said, “May I ask why?”
“So, I was getting ready to start the job here and starting graduate school, too, and I was feeling very stressed…I wanted some sort of exercise program. There were a lot of options…I did some homework, and judo seemed like a good way to go. It’s good exercise, but it’s also great mentally…I get into a different zone…it takes my mind off things.”
“I see. OK, Ms. Warne. That’s all for now. Lt. Timms and I have to confer about…well, what to do about this…situation.”
Jillian nodded and started to rise.
The Chief said, “At the risk of encouraging this sort of behavior—which I do not—I guess I should thank you…for capturing a dangerous criminal.”
Jillian nodded again, gave a slight smile, and left the office.
Three months later, Jillian Warne entered The Arizona Law Enforcement Academy for a 20-week course. Between the meeting in the Chief’s office and The Academy, though, a lot happened. Most immediately, she received wonderful support as well as a lot of teasing from everyone in The Research Division. The support included many individual conversations and also drinks at Postinos, hosted by her friends on intelligence-led policing team. They gave her a Jackie Chan video and a card—signed by everyone, including Lt. Timms—that invoked the old Kung Fu TV show. Inside the card, the old master was talking to the young novice about his progress in the martial art: the word, ‘Grasshopper’ was crossed out and ‘Jillian’ had been written in, in a kind of calligraphy.
Other kudos came from the civilian employees and many of the officers in the building, some in uniform and some detectives. A time or two as she approached a clump of people, someone would whisper and everyone would look at Jillian while trying not to appear to be looking at her. One guy—Jillian didn’t know him, but had seen him a few times and thought he must be a detective—just nodded when she entered and he exited the elevator. Somehow, that nod seemed positive…in an understated way.
Despite all of the good wishes, Jillian worried about getting fired until she had an email from Lt. Timms setting up a meeting with the Tempe PD’s Public Information Officer. Actually, there were two people: Sgt. Holly Strayer, the PIO, and a photographer, a civilian employee named Rafe Blonde. Together, they worked on a story that was to appear in the Tempe/Ahwautukee insert of The Arizona Republic. This was a relief to Jillian as was another email from Lt. Timms saying that The Chief had decided to ‘own it,’ meaning she was going to support Jillian’s actions in apprehending Clay Neely…she’d even suggested the story.
The news story emphasized Jillian’s enrollment in an ASU master’s program, her thesis topic—women in policing—along with comments from Lt. Timms and The Chief. Linda said that Jillian’s actions were good publicity, especially the bit about intelligence-led policing, at a time of otherwise not-so-good press about police shooting unarmed black men. Linda added that her baby, her first, was doing well, but that she missed everyone at work…and missed sleep even more. She planned to return to work at the end of the month.
Two nights later, Jillian had dinner at her parents’ house. This had been planned befor
e the ‘Clay Neely incident,’ but of course that was the main topic for discussion. On the whole, her parents were great. They treated her like an adult….no rhetorical questions…no lecture. Her mom thought that what she had done was ‘a bit foolhardy’ (Jillian remembered that Chief McCaslin had said the same thing), and her dad thought it was ‘unnecessary.’ He did ask if she had to worry about her job. Jillian admitted that, at first, she had been worried, especially after she’d met with Chief McCaslin and Lt. Timms, but, the email from Lt. Timms and the Chief’s idea about the news story had alleviated her fears. Mom had prepared one of Jillian’s favorites: beef bourguignon. Jillian brought a salad. They had a nice bottle of Cotes-Du-Rhone, her mom’s favorite, and berries and gelato for desert. As she left for home, they’d both said to her in their own unique ways, ‘don’t be scared of life, be a good citizen, and make good choices.’
A few days after that, Jillian attended judo class…the first one since Clay Neely. After the usual ‘beginning ritual,’ Choi Sohyon, a 5th dan Korean-American, assembled the class as always. The newspaper story was out, but Choi still briefly recounted Jillian’s use of judo to subdue a criminal. He did not make his usual comment, what Jillian always thought of as his Peter Parker speech…’with great power comes great responsibility.’ Instead, Choi and Jillian re-enacted both throws…Choi played Clay Neely’s part. They went through these moves several times. Then, they switched and he played Jillian and she played Neely…Choi wanted to refine her technique, although he complimented her on her progress. The class worked on those two moves. Choi reiterated the importance of learning how to land when thrown, and they practiced landing. From then on, it was class as usual, including some new moves.
Jillian then had a surprise visitor at her desk in the Research Division: the man who had nodded to her at the elevator, who was, indeed, a detective: Detective Sergeant Wes Webb. He said he’d like to talk with her at her convenience. They arranged to meet later that afternoon. Although definitely surprised, Jillian didn’t worry about a detective showing up at her desk. She thought maybe he was working the Clay Neely case and wanted to talk with her, either about the robbery or maybe about the predictive models that she’d run.
Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Page 24
