by Colin Conway
“That’s simply not true,” Pastor Norris said.
“It is.”
“Pastor,” Gallico said, his patronizing tone barely masked, “I believe you when you say Tyler Garrett started out as a good person, but he is inside one of the most corrosive, culturally repugnant pits of an organization I’ve ever known. It’s a department that changes people, who they are, and how they see the world.”
Norris pointed at Gallico. “Just because you hate your former brothers, don’t spread that poison and sell it as fact.”
“That’s the point, Pastor. That place is poison. Look, maybe Ty did nothing wrong on purpose. Maybe this was all a terrible mistake on his part, but the SPD will not hold him accountable for it. They never do.” Gallico counted off several controversial, high profile incidents that Clara knew everyone in Spokane would recognize. “In none of those cases was an officer ever held truly accountable. In every instance, they have avoided justice due to the influence the chief wields within city hall and among the local judges.”
“Damn straight,” Parrish agreed.
“Maybe that was justice,” Norris said quietly. “Cases heard by peers and judged is the very definition of justice, even if you don’t like the outcome.”
“Trust me, no one is going to like the outcome of this situation,” Gallico predicted.
“And no blacks will riot when Garrett gets off scot free,” added the other man.
“Why should we?” Parrish shook his head.
The host tried to bail Norris out. “Let’s not gang up on the pastor,” he said.
“I don’t feel ganged up on,” Norris said, his tone becoming more confident. “The truth will out, and when it does, I am certain it will vindicate a good man. In the meantime, it is the full intention of the Black Ministers League to unequivocally support Officer Ty Garrett in any way we can.” He turned to the host. “I expect you to invite me back on this show with these same guests for an apology once that has happened.”
The host didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely!” He thanked his guests and turned to the camera for his outro.
Clara Garrett didn’t wait for him to finish. She turned off the TV. The mother in her had growing concern for her son, and the politician in her saw even more danger ahead. It was the parishioner in her that kept her from despairing. Pastor Norris and his fellow ministers weren’t giving up on Ty, and those men had tremendous clout within Spokane’s black community, poor and rich alike. He would watch over Ty.
Him and God, they would both watch over her son.
Chapter 20
Lieutenant Dan Flowers cleared his throat and rang the doorbell. It took a while before Ty Garrett appeared in the small window, looking at them in surprise. He swung open the door and stood in the threshold. “What’s up, Lieutenant?”
“Can we come in, Ty? We need to talk to you.”
Garrett hesitated, then moved aside. “Sure.”
Flowers stepped through the door, followed by Detectives Talbott and Pomeroy. The three of them stood uncomfortably in the entryway while Garrett closed the door and locked it.
“Come on in,” Garrett said, leading them down the two steps into the living room.
Flowers and the detectives followed wordlessly.
“Honestly,” Garrett said, “I’m glad you’re here. I’m ready to talk.”
“Good,” Talbott said.
Garrett settled into a chair and motioned for them to sit. “Will Dale be here soon?”
Talbott and Pomeroy exchanged a look.
“You mean Dale Thomas?” Flowers asked.
“Yeah. Is he on the way?”
Flowers cleared his throat. “Uh, are you saying you want a lawyer, Ty?”
“It’s standard for shootings, right?”
Flowers understood then. “We’re not here for that. You’re still on your seventy-two.”
Garrett looked confused, then his eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”
“Come on,” Talbott interjected. “You know why.”
Garrett didn’t react other than to fix them all with a hard stare. “They sent three of you to investigate a fight? Seems like overkill. Maybe I should call Dale after all.”
“Look,” Flowers said, “the chief wanted extra attention paid to your assault. That’s all. Detective Talbott was next up on the wheel, so he’s here. Pomeroy is his partner. They’re only allowed to ask you about what happened today. Nothing about your shooting.”
“And you?”
“I’m here to make sure that happens. But I’ve got to ask you now, since you brought it up—do you want a lawyer present?”
Garrett considered for a few moments before shaking his head. “I don’t need a lawyer. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Flowers nodded his understanding. He motioned toward the detectives to begin their interview.
Pomeroy took out his notepad and flipped it open. “We have a report that you were in an altercation earlier this morning.”
“I was attacked, yeah.”
“And yet you didn’t wait at the scene, or call it in.”
“I was supposed to hang around in the middle of the street with the two guys who jumped me? Seriously?”
“All right,” Pomeroy conceded. He stroked his drooping mustache. “Not calling it in is kinda odd, though, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t.”
“No?”
“No,” Garrett repeated. “I thought about calling it in, but I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“I figured they got the worst of it.”
“I’d say they did. What happened, exactly?”
Garrett took a deep breath and let it out. “I was out for a run when I saw this truck that had been stalking me all morning. They—”
Pomeroy held up his hand. “Wait. Stalking you? How’s that?”
“I saw them early on in my run, and then they showed up thirty minutes later for a second time. They might have been back there more than that. I’m not always looking behind me when I run.”
“You pay attention to every car you see?”
Garrett scowled. “I’m aware of my surroundings. It comes with the job. Besides, the truck had Idaho plates, so it stood out.”
Pomeroy didn’t reply. He made a note on his pad, then asked, “What did you say to them?”
“Nothing. They passed me and went around the block before stopping.”
“And?”
“There were two of them. The bigger guy had a British flag shirt. The smaller guy wore camouflage. He had some kind of club.”
“Were you packing?”
“No. I was on a run.”
“Anybody say anything?”
“Yeah,” Garrett said, a little angrily. “One of them called me ‘boy.’”
“Just ‘boy’? Nothing else?”
“I don’t remember. Maybe.”
“All you heard was ‘boy’?”
“Yeah.”
“If you don’t remember more than that, how do you know they weren’t looking for a lost kid or something?”
“Are you serious?” Garrett asked.
“I am. Did they call you by name?”
“No.”
“What do you think this was about?”
“He called me ‘boy.’ That’s what it was about. And the shooting.”
Flowers held up his hands. “Hold it, gents. Let’s keep the conversation just on today’s incident, all right?”
“Sure,” Pomeroy said.
Talbott stood. “You mind if I use the bathroom?”
Garrett glared at Talbott with a strange expression. To Flowers, it looked like suspicion.
“Is there a problem with you two?” he asked.
After a thought, Garrett shook his head. “No problem. Bathroom’s down the hall on the left.”
Talbott nodded and looked around. “Nice place,” he said as he walked away.
/> “Real nice,” Pomeroy added. “Especially on patrolman’s pay.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Pomeroy said. “Except that it’s a much nicer place than mine. Or Butch’s. How about you, Lieutenant?”
Flowers refused to be drawn into whatever game the detectives were playing. He didn’t like it, but how they interviewed Garrett was up to them, as long as they didn’t get into anything about the shooting.
“My wife is a nurse,” Garrett said, his jaw clenched. “She makes good money.”
“I thought she quit working. Didn’t I see that on Facebook?”
“It was a temporary leave of absence.”
“I thought it was more of a stay home for a few years with the kids sort of thing.” Pomeroy shrugged. “I’ll have to go look it up.”
“Good luck. We deleted our accounts.”
Pomeroy raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yeah, people were writing all kinds of nasty shit. Someone even posted my home address. That’s why I sent my family away.”
“Where to?
Garrett shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. What you should be asking about is the two hicks who attacked me.”
“Let’s talk about that, then. What happened after they went around the block?”
Garrett described the men getting out of the car and advancing on him. Flowers listened carefully, watching the patrol officer relay events in the same confident way he might describe an on-duty call response. He was methodical and descriptive. Flowers barely noticed when Talbott returned to the room until the detective stood at his side, leaning down to whisper in his ear.
“We’ve got a problem, Lieutenant.”
Flowers could smell the stale coffee on Talbott’s breath. He gave the detective a quizzical look. Talbott jerked his head toward the direction he’d just come. Hesitantly, Flowers rose and followed him.
Garrett watched them go, his expression confused. “What are you guys doing?”
“Investigating an assault,” Pomeroy answered.
As soon as they reached the bathroom, Talbott pointed at the open cupboard beneath the sink. Flowers immediately saw three small baggies of white powder.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“I was looking for a towel,” Talbott explained. “And…” he motioned toward the baggies.
“Shit,” Flowers repeated.
A moment later, Garrett appeared in the doorway, Pomeroy at his heels. “What’s going on?”
No one answered.
Garrett followed their gaze and saw the baggies. His expression hardened. “Those aren’t mine.”
“Never heard that one before,” Pomeroy scoffed.
“They’re under your sink,” Talbott said. “In your house.”
“Those aren’t mine.” He glared at Talbott. “What were you doing snooping through my drawers anyway?”
“I needed a towel to dry my hands. Most people keep towels there.”
Garrett looked at the empty towel rack, then back at Talbott. “It’s not mine.”
“Anybody got a field test kit?” Talbott asked.
“I got one in the car,” Pomeroy said. He turned and left.
An uncomfortable silence settled on the three remaining men. Flowers looked at Garrett in disbelief, then down at the baggies again. Finding drugs in Garrett’s house was the last thing he expected to come out of this visit.
Pomeroy arrived with field test kit. Carefully, he opened one of the baggies with his folding knife and used the blade tip to scoop a small amount into the test tube. He replaced the tube top, twisted it securely, then crushed the ampoule inside containing the reaction reagent. Pomeroy gave the test kit a couple of rapid shakes, but the action was moot. As soon as the ampoule broke, the tube’s content flooded purple.
“Positive for heroin,” Pomeroy said, unnecessarily.
Shit, Flowers thought, though this time he managed not to say it out loud.
“You want that lawyer now, Garrett?” Talbott asked.
Garrett said nothing. He studied the purple-filled tube in Pomeroy’s fingers, his expression distant.
Chapter 21
Detective Harris hung up the phone and turned her chair around. Behind her, McNutt was playing hunt and peck with a witness statement.
“That was the booking sergeant at jail,” she told him.
“Yeah? One of Trotter’s knowns get picked up?”
“No.”
“Who, then?”
“You won’t believe me when I tell you.”
McNutt kept hunting and pecking for a little while before he seemed to notice she wasn’t saying anything more. He stopped typing and swiveled around to face her, his expression one of cautious realization. “You’re kidding me.”
“No. Tyler John Garrett.”
“For what?” McNutt asked, incredulous.
“Assault.”
“Against who?”
“Sarge didn’t say, but that wasn’t the only charge.”
“There’s more?”
Harris nodded somberly. “Possession of narcotics.”
“Possession of…” McNutt trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.
“With intent to deliver,” Harris added.
McNutt dropped his hands to his side and leaned back. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“I am one hundred percent completely serious.”
“The sergeant isn’t pranking us?”
“It’s Mathis. When have you ever known him to have a sense of humor?”
“Holy shit,” McNutt breathed. “Drugs?”
“I know. It’s hard to believe.”
“That’s it, then,” he said. “The guy’s dirty.”
Harris shrugged. “We don’t have all the details yet, so let’s not jump to conclusions.”
“Cass, they booked him. They don’t just casually book a cop.”
“I realize that, but I don’t know if this impacts our investigation or not. We need to stay focused on the shooting.”
McNutt stared at her. “This changes everything.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t change what happened that night.”
“Yes, it does. It changes everything.”
Chapter 22
Detective Wardell Clint slid his gun into the metal cabinet, closed it, and withdrew the over-sized key. He put the key in his jacket pocket and followed the corrections officer down the hall to the interview room. He thought his man might already be there, but the room was empty except for a metal table with two short benches, all of them bolted to the floor.
Clint sat and waited.
Less than five minutes later, the lock on the door rotated and the door swung open. Ty Garrett shuffled in, his wrists cuffed in the front. He saw Clint, and his face registered surprise.
“Five minutes,” the corrections officer said.
Clint nodded that he understood, and the guard left.
Garrett took a seat across from Clint, eyeing him suspiciously.
“You all right?” Clint asked. He knew the question was stupid as soon as it left his lips but he felt like Garrett needed to know he cared.
“I’m in fucking jail, Detective.”
“They treating you okay, all things considered?”
Garrett seemed to think about it, then shrugged. “They cleared the booking area before they processed me.”
“That’s something.”
“It was terrible. I’ve been in this place a hundred times, hauling in humanity’s worst. Now…” he trailed off, at a loss for words.
“They’ve got you in isolation, right?” Clint asked. Both men knew how dangerous a place jail would be for a cop in general population.
“Yeah. You know how that goes. There’s always crossover. If one of these dogs wants to get to me…”
“Anyone else been to see you?” Clint asked.
Garrett shook his head.
“No lawyer?”
“They won’t let me talk to one until right before first appearance tomorrow. Can they do that? I mean, it sounds kinda shady, you know?”
“They can do whatever they want,” Clint said quietly. “Like everyone in power.”
“You’re a bundle of joy. Thanks. What are you even doing here?”
“County hasn’t talked to you about the shooting?”
“Not yet. I was still on my three days.”
“Now you’re here.”
Garrett gave Clint an earnest look. “Those drugs were not mine. I swear it.”
“How’d they get there?”
“Someone must have planted it.”
“Who? Detective Talbott? Pomeroy? Maybe Flowers?”
Garrett didn’t answer.
Clint raised his hands, showing his palms. “Hey, man, I want to believe you. I really do. I know this place is full of treachery. I’ve lived it. You gotta help me out here. I mean, be reasonable.”
“Is this an interrogation?”
“Did I Mirandize you, son?”
Garrett shook his head.
“You in custody?”
Garrett held up his cuffs.
“All right, then. Even if this was an interrogation, which it isn’t, none of it would be admissible, based on Fifth Amendment requirements.”
Garrett watched him, still unsure. Finally, he shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”
“Just help me understand, that’s all.”
“Understand what?”
“If that brown isn’t yours, then how did it get under your bathroom sink?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it your wife’s?”
Garrett scowled. “Of course not. Like I said, someone must have planted it.”
“Like who?”
Garrett turned away, not answering immediately.
“You see my problem, right?” Clint asked. “If I am to believe that you are innocent, and the heroin was, in fact, planted, then I have to accept that one of those detectives or the lieutenant planted it. That one, or all of them, is dirty.”
“Lieutenant Flowers isn’t dirty.”
“That’d be my assessment of him, too. Company man, for sure, but not dirty.”
