Authors: Patrick Abbruzzi
The lieutenant smiled proudly.
There would be bad days ahead and the lieutenant knew it, but on that historic night in his life, so very long ago, he was proud to be one of New York’s finest.
Thirteen
My walk back to the barn only took about ten minutes. I entere
d
and saluted the desk then walked over to the 124 man’s room and gav
e
him all the paperwork I had completed. The 124 man assured me tha
t
he would take care of everything for me, so I thanked him and walked over to the desk area where the return roll call sign out sheet was kept. I signed out and walked up the two flights of stairs to my locker room, locating the metal coat hanger which was used to open the door a
t
off hours. There was no handle or knob on the door but it could be locke
d
from the inside. When it was, the coat hanger was the only way it could be opene
d
short of kicking it off its hinges.
I was careful not to make any noise because I knew there would be cop
s
sleeping in the dorms directly across from the locker room.
“You see, Charlie, in those days all of the precincts maintained dorms for cops who made arrests on the 4X12 tour or even late on the 8X4 tour. Those guys were required to be back in court at 8:00 A.M. and some of the
m
lived in Nassau and Suffolk counties. Some even lived upstate in Orang
e
County. They could never make the drive home and be expected to make th
e
drive back and be on time the next day. The dorms were maintained by the PBA police widows fund and staffed by women who had lost sons, husbands or brothers in the line o
f
duty. The linens were changed weekly.”
I started to fool around with the wire hangar when the door opened suddenly. It was Willie who had heard me and opened it. He and Bruce had been in for a while and already were dressed in civvies. Willie noticed I was beaming and I explained my night fo
r
them both, then we rode home in Willie’s VW Beetle and swapped wa
r
stories as if we were old hair bags.”
Lt. A. smiled at this.
“You know, Charlie, I told you before that it was a requirement to affi
x
your name and squad number on the outside of your locker. I can honestly say that I never saw or experienced firsthand anyone from headquarter
s
opening anyone’s locker because of wrongdoing, although we did have an officer wh
o
died in the line of duty and his locker had to be opened to give an
y
personals to his family.
“My initial tours in the 120
th
were fairly good,
”
said Lt. A with a nod of satisfaction.
He then explained how he had walked foot posts quite a bit but was glad to be outdoors considering he had walked those subway platforms for almost three month
s
while assigned to the 1
st
precinct. Because he was assigned as a footman in the 2
nd
squad, he became a fill-in for the regular sector car teams an
d
rode in a car if the regular guy was out sick or on vacation. He liked i
t
that way because he got to learn the entire layout of the precinct an
d
the sector boundaries.
Winter came and he found himself riding more. He now had almost three years on the job and was liked by his peers as well as the station hous
e
brass.
One night he was scheduled to work a midnight tour in sector
Q
as in queen which covered the Clove Lakes section of the precinct. It was also an early car, which meant it turned out thirty minutes earlier than the actual 12:00 A.M. cars. This assured that there were some cars available to handle assignments while the 4X12 sectors were heading back to the barn for end of shift.
John turned out at 11:30 P.M. and waited for his vehicle, sector Q, t
o
pull up in front of the precinct, its usual relieving point. The car was late getting in, so late in fact that the 12:00 A.M. cars had turned ou
t
and already left for patrol. He found himself alone waiting for his secto
r
car to show up.
At approximately 12:45 A.M. he saw a radio car headed his wa
y
on the Terrace coming from the direction of Jersey Street. The polic
e
cruiser had only one headlight operating and when it pulled up in front o
f
the station house, John walked down the steps to relieve the operator. He did not recognize the officer behind the wheel which was understandable because sixty new men had recently been transferred into the precinct. Working in a 2
0
-
squad duty chart meant it was entirely possible that you never worked with many of the men.
The operator got out and spoke.
“You have some damage on the right side of the car,” he mumbled.
“What do you mean, ‘damage’?” John asked.
Instead of answering, the driver walked up the steps and disappeared into the vestibule of the precinct. John surveyed the damag
e
and noticed a dent in the right front fender. He knew it was not unusual for vehicles with slight damage to be used for patrol as long as it had been reported and was scheduled for a
n
appointment at the police repair shop in the borough.
He took his place behind the wheel of the vehicle and shoved his night stick down into the seat, then tossed his memo book up onto the dash. He placed his cigarettes u
p
over the visor, lighting the one he had removed. He decided he would need a cup of java soo
n
because he was tired and cold. He started the engine and put the vehicle i
n
drive then pulled away from the curb. As he drove,the car seemed fine on the straigh
t
away but as soon as he made an attempt to negotiate a right turn, h
e
heard a loud screeching sound and felt the car shaking. He realized tha
t
the fender was rubbing into the tire and he could not safely operate th
e
vehicle so he decided to pull over and made some entries in his memo book. H
e
wrote down the time that the 4X12 operator pulled up in front of the hous
e
and described the damage to the car as well as what the cop had said to him, word for word.
That having been accomplished, he heard a transmission from Central Dispatching being broadcas
t
over the police radio.
“All 120
th
early units, ten-two your command. Repeat, all 120
th
earl
y
units, report back to your command!”
Following orders he headed back to the precinct with the thought of quickly getting anothe
r
replacement vehicle so he could get back out and make a colla
r
early which would result in some overtime.
When he got back to the house, he sa
w
roughly ten squad cars parked and idling in front of the precinct. The next thing he saw was all kinds of brass standing outside on the front sidewal
k
freezing their butts off.
“What the fuck is going on?
”
he mumbled to himself as he made his approach.
As he negotiated the car into a parking spot at the curb, he could hea
r
the bare metal of the fender screeching against the tire.
“Here it is,” said a Sergeant to a Lieutenant.
John got out of the car but before he could open his mouth, the Lieutenan
t
began to ream his ass like a John Deere harvester.
“Get in the fucking station house and throw your shield on the fuckin
g
desk! You’re on your way out of this fucking job, kid!” screame
d
the Lieutenant.
John did not say a word but went into the station house as he was ordered. Another Lieutenant was sitting behind the desk and severa
l
sergeants were standing behind him. As he stood in front of the desk, the Lieutenant seated behind it looked up and aske
d
him what he wanted.
“The boss outside said I should come in to see you,” John replied ver
y
quietly.
“You must be the kid with the damaged car, huh?” asked the Lieutenant.
“I guess so,” John answered.
“Go sit in the back room, kid. The Duty Captain is on his way in,” ordered the Lieutenant.
John went into the back room, found a chair and sat down. He could fee
l
the dread rising in his stomach, subduing him. He removed his hat but decided to keep on his winter blouse because th
e
Captain would soon be arriving. He now realized that everyone thought he was the driver who caused the dent in the RMP. He was surprised to see so many bosses getting involved in such little damage. As he sat there he had a sudden urge to use the men’s room but decided against it. He didn’t want to miss the Duty Captain and before long, an old timer approache
d
him.
“What’s the matter kid? Can’t take it?” asked the veteran.
The vet’s name was Joe Nunzio. He had about twenty-two years on the job an
d
was considered a lifer. He was also the broom in the precinct – a teat detail that was usually reserved for old timers or anyone tha
t
wanted to get off the streets.
“Who are you?” John asked warily. At that moment he felt as if he could not and should not trust anyone.
“Just call me Joe, kid. I’m in your squad. How the hell did you fuck u
p
that car?
”
the veteran asked, never at a loss for words, especially when it came to the F word.
“I didn’t damage it. I got it that way from the 4X12 cop,” John answered.
Joe stared at him incredulously.
“Holy fucking shit. Every fucking boss in this precinct is going aroun
d
thinking that you did this!”
Joe told him to sit tight while he went out to the desk and explained what had happened to the Lieutenant. A few minutes later the desk lieutenant as well as the lieutenant wh
o
was outside walked into the back room.
“Look kid, I’m sorry I screamed at you outside. I thought that yo
u
were the 4X12 operator,” said the first lieutenant.
John was instantly relieved that they now realized he wasn’t th
e
responsible party. He was also advised that an RMP, his RMP, left th
e
scene of an accident after striking a private vehicle, leaving the RMP’
s
hubcap at the scene. He might as well have left his fucking name and phone number. Eyewitness accounts also saw a police officer exit a bar in full unifor
m
and enter a police cruiser. One of the eyewitnesses had the brain
s
and foresight to jot down the RMP number, which was 1215. It was the same car that John had entered at the relieving point.
The Lieutenant told John that the duty captain was now present in th
e
command and had already called the home of the 4X12 officer and ordere
d
him to return back to work for an interrogation. The lieutenant was honest with him, saying John was not out of the woods yet then wanted to know why John had not come back into the statio
n
house to report the damage. He also asked if John knew the 4X1
2
officer. John responded by saying he had assumed that the vehicle ha
d
been given a green light for patrol and he would have never guessed in a million years that the damage had just had happened.
“Lieutenant, as far as the officer goes, I have never seen him before tonight,” John said.
The boss knew it was entirely possible. There had been a mass transfer into the 120
th
recently, and he had not even met all the new men yet.
“I have memo entries concerning this incident,” John offered.
“You do?”
Lou handed the Lieutenant his memo book after flipping to the page with the information abou
t
the damage which he had written just hours earlier. The boss read it silently.