Carnage (7 page)

Lamar Gallineo was suspended for three weeks.

During that time, Internal Affairs conducted an investigation to corroborate Lieutenant Gallineo’s statements. The report found he had acted on legitimate grounds of self defence when he had opened fire on Christian DeRoy and Frank Quincey.

He had played no part in the death of the school principal and had done nothing to put Allistair McLogan’s life in danger. Frank Quincey and Christian DeRoy alone were responsible.

After Lamar had left the Harlem high school that day, Quincey had called his protégé to warn him that the police were looking for him. Chris DeRoy had fled to their hideout. Later that evening, the young man had called the principal at home to lure him into a trap and eliminate him. They all deserved to die in his eyes, by whatever means.

After his suspension Gallineo went back to work, where his colleagues showered him with messages of support. He returned to his desk opposite Doris, who had visited him
at home while he was off. Everything was getting back to normal.

But it was a long time before he could look at a high school again without thinking of all the vulnerable teenagers inside and how easily they could be led. Some were hard as rock, but others could be moulded like balls of clay.

The streets of New York were no less safe than the other big cities of the world. But you could never rely on reason to stand firm. Every day, men and women threatened to tip the fragile balance holding up civil society.

Lamar had no sympathy for them. They may have been hurt, may have had troubled childhoods, but the fact remained that at every step of the way they had, and still had, a choice. Just as he’d had.

The trial of Frank Quincey took place in Manhattan, in a state which administered the death penalty. He was sentenced to death. When the verdict was announced, he stood up and made a fascist salute.

As the prison guards led him to Execution Chamber Five years later, at 4.30 a.m. on 18 December, he crumbled. He cried. Begged for forgiveness. Pleaded to be given another chance. Swore he wouldn’t let them down.

Entering the room where he would breathe his last, he
fell to his knees. He wet himself. It took four guards to strap him to the chair. It was silent, but for his whimpering.

It took seventeen minutes to kill him, according to the doctor who examined him to ensure his heart had stopped.

The room was cleaned immediately afterwards, left immaculate for the break of a new day.

Spotless, anonymous, waiting for the next one.

Maxime Chattam
was born in 1976 in Val-d’Oise. He studied criminology and is the author of many best-selling and award-winning thrillers, including
The Cairo Diary.