by Colin Conway
He was sorely disappointed.
“This officer has been through hell,” Sikes said, when Detective Harris had finished.
Farrell felt bile in his throat. He knew he had to speak up, but he also knew that he had the smallest voice in the room, probably even smaller than the mayor’s assistant. When he spoke, he had to make it count.
“I can’t address that, sir,” Detective Harris said. “All I can do is share the facts that we know, and those we don’t.”
“Is there a finding?”
Harris gave him a strange look, then glanced at Tuck.
“Typically,” Lofton interjected, “the investigating agency doesn’t make a finding. They submit it to Artie’s office, and the D.A. reviews it.”
Sikes gave Lofton a look of barely masked irritation and turned to Tuck. “So, you decide, Artie?”
Tuck nodded. “We determine whether there was any criminal culpability, or if it was accidental, or justified.”
“And?”
“And…?” Tuck waved his hand to draw out more from the mayor.
“What’s your finding?”
“I don’t have one. I haven’t reviewed the case yet.”
Sikes pointed at Harris. “She just spent the last hour and a half reviewing it for you.”
“I need more than just a briefing. I need to study the entire file. Consult case law. SPD policy. Garrett’s training records. It can take a while.”
“How long?”
“It depends. Certainly, a month. Maybe longer.”
Sikes shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s the process,” Tuck said. “It’s designed to be meticulous, full of checks and balances, and has to be able to withstand public scrutiny in a transparent environment.”
Sikes cocked his head at Tuck. “That sounds like something a politician would say.”
Tuck shrugged. “My position is an elected one, just like yours. I didn’t win the election by being unable to string a few words together.”
“I can see that, but, Artie…a month?”
“That’s the process,” he repeated.
“What’s your initial take, at least?”
Tuck took a deep breath and let it out, considering. “I’d say that there are some unanswered questions, the largest being that Officer Garrett was ambushed, but by who?”
Sikes turned to Harris. “Any thoughts on that?”
Harris shook her head. “That avenue of investigation has been a dead end. But ultimately, our job was to investigate the death of Todd Trotter and Officer Garrett’s actions in causing that death. The fact is, he was ambushed. Regardless of who shot at him, he took fire and his actions have to be examined within that context.”
“What’s your take on it, Detective? Unofficially, of course.”
Harris cast an uncomfortable glance at Tuck, but the D.A. did not object to the question. Carefully, she adjusted the file in front of her. Without looking at the mayor, she said, “Based on all of the evidence Detective McNutt and I examined, if it was my role to determine a finding on this investigation, I would lean toward justifiable homicide.”
Farrell felt his heart sink at those words. Maybe she was right, but everything Garrett did after that night tarnished even a righteous act for him.
Sikes snapped his fingers and looked at Tuck. “There you go. And she’s the expert.”
“She’s an expert investigator,” Tuck corrected him. “She’s not an expert legal analyst. That’s my job.”
“What if,” Lofton suggested, “your office were to say something along the lines ‘Our preliminary view of this tragic incident is that Officer Garrett’s actions appear justifiable within the context of the events he faced.’ Would that work?”
Tuck opened his mouth to answer but Baumgartner interrupted.
“Say ‘justifiable, given the totality of the circumstances,’ instead,” the chief said. “Use the language of the law.”
Farrell winced slightly. He could see where this was going. They were trying to hang armor on Garrett.
“I’m not entirely comfortable with that,” Tuck said.
“Look,” Mayor Sikes growled, “we are in a shit show here. Public opinion is wavering, and I’m talking about our base here, not the sizable chunk of people who have already turned against us on this. We need to get back in front of the situation and salvage it before they show up at city hall with pitchforks and torches.”
“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“If you need me to be more literal, Artie, then think of the pitchforks and torches as vigils, protests, and riots, followed by election recalls. It is surprisingly easy to kick a mayor out of office in this city.” He paused, then added, “Or a district attorney.”
Silence hung in the air for a few seconds, though it seemed much longer to Farrell. He silently hoped the D.A. would stand his ground. If he waited to rule on the Garrett shooting, and slowed down this whitewash train that the mayor seemed determined to push down the track, maybe Clint could find something more tangible in the meantime.
“All right,” Tuck said. “I’ll agree to a preliminary statement along the lines you’ve suggested, but I am including a clause that reads ‘pending a full review.’ That’s the best I can do.”
“That will work,” Lofton said. “Thank you.”
Sikes shot Lofton another glare, then turned to Tuck. “Yes, Artie, thanks for seeing things so reasonably. I knew I could count on your integrity, as always.”
Tuck didn’t reply.
“I know we all have a few more things to discuss, but I believe we can continue without the detectives. I know you’re both busy, and we’ve already monopolized enough of your time.”
The dismissal was clear, and both Harris and McNutt seemed almost relieved to hear it. Harris gathered her notes, closed her file. The others remained silent while she did so, watching until she and her partner rose as one and left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Sikes turned on Baumgartner. “What the hell is going on in your police department, Bob?”
Baumgartner flushed slightly. “It’s been a bad week. But—”
“But nothing! One of your officers gets ambushed, then is the victim of a racially motivated attack. Another one is dead in a separate jurisdiction, and then a third kills himself in his own kitchen. Meanwhile, you decide that’s a good time to head off to the coast to dip your wick?”
An uncomfortable silence followed while the mayor glared at the chief and the rest of the room watched. Artie Tuck shifted uneasily in his chair.
“Sir,” began Baumgartner, “this has been a worst-case scenario of events. It looks bad in its totality but—”
“You already used that magic word earlier,” Sikes sneered. “Totality. It doesn’t make you seem smart, Bob. Not from where I sit.”
Farrell felt a stab of pity for Baumgartner and considered rising to his defense. Unfortunately, the only information he had to share wasn’t going to make things any better for his chief.
Now is not the time, he told himself. Wait for the right moment.
Tuck cleared his throat. “Perhaps someone could bring me up to speed on current events?” he asked, clearly trying to be the peacemaker. “All I know is what the news is reporting.”
“That’s the problem,” Sikes snapped. “That’s all anybody knows, and it is hurting us in a big way.”
Somehow, Baumgartner seemed to keep his cool. He glanced at Farrell, as if considering turning the floor over to him, but didn’t. Farrell had briefed him earlier on the official, established events, holding back on what he and Clint believed about Garrett until there was enough evidence. By doing that, Farrell knew he was protecting the chief, but he also knew he was putting himself in a precarious position. The only way he could share what he knew now was if he and Clint found concrete evidence. Otherwise, what he had to say would fall on deaf ears, and the fact that he’d h
eld it back would spell the end of his career.
What a tangled mess of lies, Farrell thought, hating himself for it, even if it was for a greater good.
“I can fill in some of the gaps,” the chief said. “Let’s start with the attack on Garrett. That appears to be unrelated to any of these other events.”
“How do you know?”
“One of our detectives reviewed Talbott’s case notes a couple of hours ago. He and Pomeroy were assigned the investigation of the assault.”
“Notes?” Sikes asked. “There’s no official report?”
“Detectives often take extensive notes on a case and then compile a report later. It’s pretty standard, especially if they’re working a case actively.”
“Fine, but were they investigating the assault or the drugs they found in Garrett’s house?”
“Both,” Baumgartner answered. “Early on, they interviewed the men who attacked him while they were still in the hospital. From what our detective can make of their notes, these two both initially tried to say they were just on a drive and that Garrett tricked them into stopping and then attacked them.”
“What about the video that the Mexican woman took? Alzado?”
“Alvarado, sir,” the blonde assistant corrected gently.
“Whatever,” Sikes said, ignoring her. “No one has bothered to brief me on what the whole video shows.”
“She was originally filming a dog crapping on her lawn. She’s been having some trouble with a neighbor and wanted to get some proof. Her camera pans up to show the two men pull to a stop, get out and aggressively confront Garrett,” Baumgartner said. “One of them has a club.”
“Can we legitimately say that Officer Garrett acted in self-defense?”
Baumgartner shrugged, and motioned toward Tuck. “I say yes, but it’s not my call.”
Sikes turned on Tuck. “Artie?”
Tuck considered. “The video I saw on television is pretty brutal, and Garrett appears to be the aggressor. If these other two instigated the encounter and threatened him, his actions could be construed as self-defense. Especially when you factor in that it was a two-on-one scenario in which one of the attackers was armed with a deadly weapon.”
“Just because you lose the fight,” Baumgartner added, “it doesn’t make you a victim.”
Sikes nodded, seemingly delighted. “Good. Then we’re clearing Garrett on the shooting and the attack. How about the drugs?”
Baumgartner shifted uncomfortably. “That’s tough. The drugs were under his sink, in his house. There’s no getting around that.”
“There’s a lot of shadows surrounding that entire event, Bob. Do we even know that the drugs were Garrett’s? Could they have been planted?”
“By who?”
“You tell me.”
Baumgartner stared back at the mayor, bristling. Farrell knew the quandary the chief faced. Either one of his patrol officers was dealing drugs, or one of his detectives had planted drugs. He was screwed either way.
Farrell found his voice finally and spoke. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to clear Garrett,” he said carefully. “With so many unknowns.”
Sikes snapped his gaze to Farrell. “Those unknowns are your responsibility, Captain. I’m more concerned with what I do know. I know that we’re talking about a top-flight officer who was ambushed twice, for either wearing a badge or being black, or both. From where I sit, that makes him a victim. The drugs? I don’t know about that, but I do know it isn’t clear-cut. Maybe your detective, the one who was shot?” He looked to the chief with impatience. “What was his name?”
“Talbott,” Baumgartner said.
“Maybe Talbott put the drugs there for some unknown reason. Maybe that’s what got him shot. Maybe that’s why his partner killed himself.”
“That’s bullshit!” Baumgartner interrupted. “You can’t slander my men that way. I don’t care who you are.”
“You better fucking care who I am!” the mayor roared. “Because I can end you.”
The threat hung in the air. The mayor glared hotly at the chief, who returned the stare with equal intensity. Farrell could feel the wheels coming off of this meeting and wondered crazily if it was about to devolve into a fistfight. In that event, at least, he knew his chief would win.
“Let’s take it down a notch,” Artie Tuck said quietly. “We’re not accomplishing anything with this in-fighting.”
The mayor didn’t respond, and Farrell knew good and well that Baumgartner wouldn’t blink, either. He saw his opportunity and took it.
“We don’t know enough to answer all these questions yet, sir,” Farrell said evenly. “And we don’t know for sure about Garrett. What if he’s the dirty one? What if we find out that he was dirty all along, and is involved in more than just this shooting?”
“Like what?” Sikes snapped.
“Any of it. Talbott’s death. Pomeroy’s suicide. The quadruple homicide up north.”
Baumgartner broke away from staring at the mayor and turned to Farrell, shocked. “Christ, Tom. You’re starting to sound like Ward Clint, spouting conspiracies.”
“I’m only saying—”
Baumgartner jabbed a finger in the mayor’s direction. “He wants to make villains out of Talbott and Pomeroy and you want to make a villain out of Garrett,” he thundered. “What the hell is your problem?”
Farrell swallowed. “My point is just that we should let the state finish their investigation of Detective Talbott’s death and wait until they have some concrete results. Same thing with Detective Pomeroy’s suicide and then—”
“Is it true that Detective Pomeroy was found with drugs…on his person?” Lofton asked quietly.
Farrell was surprised by the question. “Where did you hear that?”
“Is it true?” Lofton repeated.
Reluctantly, Farrell nodded.
“Will you be able to tell whether it was related to the drugs found under Officer Garrett’s sink?”
Again, Farrell nodded. “Not definitively, but close enough.”
Lofton glanced at the mayor. “Maybe you’ve got a couple of dirty cops—”
“You don’t know that,” Baumgartner snapped.
“No, I don’t,” Lofton admitted, “but it seems to me to be every bit as possible as the idea that the drugs were Garrett’s. Talbott was killed under suspicious circumstances, and then his partner decided to kill himself shortly thereafter and is found with drugs. Those two seem related to me. It reeks of corruption, and that is most certainly how it will play in the public eye.”
“Screw the public eye,” Baumgartner said. “We need to find the truth.”
Sikes shook his head. “That attitude is why I’m starting to wonder if you’re still the right fit for the chief’s job, Bob. Public opinion is reality. It is the truth.”
“No, the truth is the truth.”
“Maybe the truth is what we say it is,” Lofton said.
“I’m not comfortable with that,” Tuck said immediately.
“Me, either,” Baumgartner agreed just as quickly.
“I’m not talking about lies, gentlemen,” Lofton assured them. “I’m talking about presentation, that’s all.”
Farrell felt the momentum of the meeting shift. He had one card to play, and he knew he had to play it soon, or be lost. “We need to complete all investigations first,” he began. “The state has to finish theirs, we have to complete ours. Pomeroy’s suicide, for starters. Then we need to launch an internal investigation of Talbott, Pomeroy, and Garrett to see—”
“You are clearly not listening to me, Captain,” the mayor said through clenched teeth. “I want this resolved tonight.”
“That’s not possible, sir.”
“It is possible, and we are going to do it. Now—”
“Mr. Mayor,” Lofton interrupted. “The captain has a point. If there’s still doubt as to Garrett’s innocence, we might want to be careful ab
out getting behind him. If it comes out later, it won’t just look bad for you, it might even appear corrupt.”
“You flip-flop a lot, Cody,” the mayor said derisively.
“I’m not flip-flopping, sir. I’m saying we can strike a middle ground here.”
“If you walk down the middle of the road,” Sikes said forcefully, “you get hit by traffic from both lanes. No, we are going to make a definitive move here, and put this behind us. We don’t have the luxury of time.”
“I’d advise against that approach, sir,” Lofton said evenly.
“Losing your stomach for the game, buddy boy?” Sikes turned to Baumgartner. “Is there any evidence that those drugs belonged to Officer Garrett?”
“Other than the fact that they were found in his house?”
“Don’t be a smart ass.”
Baumgartner looked at Farrell, who shook his head. “No,” the chief said.
Sikes turned to Tuck. “Is your office willing to prosecute Garrett for possession of drugs, Artie?”
Tuck shifted uncomfortably. “The case is problematic,” he admitted. “The key witness would be Talbott, who can longer testify. Pomeroy, a secondary witness, is gone. Who does that leave?”
“Lieutenant Flowers,” Baumgartner said.
“All he can say is that Talbott showed him the drugs under the sink?” Tuck shook his head. “While I believe your arrest based upon probable cause was solid at the time, there’s no way I can prove this case in court beyond a reasonable doubt. If I don’t have a reasonable belief that I can do that, professional ethics dictate that I don’t charge in the first place. Doing so would be considered merely punitive.”
“There go both criminal charges,” Sikes said, clearly on a roll. “Now for the perception issues.” He turned back to Baumgartner. “Do you have any proof that some thug like the ones who attacked Garrett didn’t break into his home and plant those drugs?”
