Authors: Patrick Abbruzzi
“Well, I guess if you were trying to cover something up, you would never have written this,” said the Lieutenant.
John felt very much relieved after hearing what the Lieutenant had to say, and after a moment the Lieutenant told him to sit down again, explaining he would get to John after he finished interviewing the civilian witnesses as wel
l
as the 4X12 officer who was responding from home. The Lieutenant walke
d
back to his desk and Joe walked back to where John was now sitting.
“How about a cup of coffee, kid?
”
asked Joe.
John said he would rather wait until the Duty Captain was finished wit
h
him and looked at his watch. It was 12:50 A.M. It didn’t take him long to realize he should have taken Jo
e
up on his offer.
At 2:30 A.M., Joe walked in and told John that the Dut
y
Captain was going to Saint’s Vincent’s emergency room to interview th
e
4X12 cop who had been ordered back into work. The cop had received the message to respond back to the precinct but had gotten into another accident on his way in. He struck a utility pole and was taken b
y
ambulance to the hospital.
When the duty captain heard this, he became enraged! Now the department would not be able to administer any breathalyzer test because of any medications the doctors might have given the cop.
Before he knew it, it was 6:15 A.M. and the day tour crew was beginning to come in for work. These men were wide awake and ready to take on the day while John could barely keep his head from bouncing off of his chest.
“
Audenino, report to the Captain’s office, forthwith,” blared th
e
overhead loudspeaker.
John buttoned up his winter jacket and placed his hat squarely on hi
s
head then walked over to the shoe shine machine and gave his shoes
a
quick buffing. This machine, unlike the one in the 1
st
precinct, ha
d
polish and worked well. When that was done, he made his way out to the desk area and the Lieutenant pointed to the Captain’s office, making a motion with his fist as if he were tellin
g
John to knock. Standing before the door, John knocked twice and heard the Captain voice, telling him to enter.
John suddenly remembered one of his first lessons he’d learned while in th
e
police academy. When you walk into the Captain’s office, you remove you
r
hat and stand at attention. The police department was, after all,
a
semi-military organization.
“Sit down,
Audenino. Get comfortable,” said Captain Levin, a thirty-year veteran of the department and was said t
o
be a pencil pusher. It was also said that he did not know how to deal wit
h
people but he did know the book backwards and forwards.
John knew that the Captain had been awake just as long as he had, bu
t
the Captain showed no signs of weariness. He was impeccably dressed and every silver-gray hair on his head was in place. His white shirt was starched and looked as if he had just put it on and his captain’s bars shone in their epaulets upon his shoulders. He wore a pair of hor
n
rimmed eyeglasses that made him look more like an accountant than a police captain.
“I’ve spoken to all the civilian witnesses who were willing to com
e
forward, as well as Police Officer Cooke in the hospital,” said th
e
Captain.
John had not even known the 4X12 cop’s name until now.
“I also spoke to our lieutenants here in the precinct and I know you were not the one who operated the vehicle or caused the damage. However
,
I want to be sure that there is no collusion or cover-up. Do yo
u
understand?
”
“Yes, Sir,” replied John.
“Let me have your memo book,” ordered Captain Levin.
John handed him the memo book and the Captain began making copie
s
of John’s entries. Then he sat down and began asking relatively eas
y
questions about John’s time on the force. The Captain wrote all of John’
s
responses down into a notebook of his own then excused him. After John thanked th
e
Captain, he walked out of the office, tending a salute.
“How did it go, kid?” asked Joe.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Those entries you made in your fucking book saved your fucking ass
,
kid. You did good.” Although it was a compliment, Joe’s tone was serious.
John’s first brush with the department’s disciplinary process was enlightening. He learned that it paid to document your actions. The department could find fault with you for not being correct with some fac
t
but they couldn’t accuse you of a wrongful omission. It was a valuabl
e
lesson learned for the years ahead.
A few weeks later, John learned that Police Officer Cooke had been transferre
d
out of the 120
th
and sent to the 4
th
precinct, which was adjacent to th
e
Holland Tunnel on Canal Street in Manhattan. Surprisingly enough, Office
r
Cooke once again crashed his RMP while he was under the influence o
f
booze, this time running into a private vehicle. The Police Commissioner terminated Officer Cooke after Cooke refused to admit he had
a
drinking problem. The Commissioner wanted to send him upstate to the farm to dr
y
out but he flatly refused. As a result, he lost his job.
“So, Charlie, that’s basically how I started out on the job and how I got to the 120
th
,” Lt. A. said. “I wound up staying at the 120
th
for almost seventeen years before I made Sergeant and got shipped out to the 62
nd
precinct i
n
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.
”
“I used to hear stories of how the bosses on the desk were years ago.
I
guess they’re all true,” said Charlie.
“Back then the Sergeant was your boss and the Lieutenant was the ‘Captai
n
of the ship.’ The Commanding Officer’s word was gospel and was untouchable. He came and went as he pleased and you rarely saw him unless he was inspecting your uniform or you really fucked up in spades.
“Today things are much different. The Patrol Sergeant is just another radio car answering calls with a littl
e
power and the Lieutenant is bogged down with so much shit and paperwork it’s not funny. The Captain has so much more responsibility these days that he can’t even handle because it’s physically impossible. I mean the poor slob has to actuall
y
respond to RMP accidents. Talk about abuse of power,” said Lt. A. mournfully.
“Lou, what happened after the incident with Captain Levin? It sounded as if he was fair,” said Charlie.
“I don’t know if he was fair. All I know is that my memo book saved my ass and your worst enemy out here is
you
. If you’r
e
not afraid of paperwork you’ll get by, but if you shun it you’r
e
asking for all kinds of trouble. As long as you don’t get lazy you wil
l
find you can probably cover your ass in most hairy situations.”
Charlie made a mental note of what the lieutenant said and started t
o
drive to the lieutenant’s old sector in Stapleton. As they made their way through the streets of sector E-Eddie, he could see th
e
lieutenant drifting away with his thoughts, but after a few moments of silence he suddenly started t
o
speak again.
“You know, Charlie, after the incident with Captain Levin and Polic
e
O
fficer Cooke I kind of floated. I mean some days I walked a beat an
d
others I rode in a sector, but most of the time I flew. Today I kno
w
you go on an occasional detail, whether it be a parade or demonstration
,
but when I was younger we had regular details that lasted for months a
t
a time.
“The precinct sent one man alone on these flying details. I wa
s
the new kid on the block so I could count on my flying to other command
s
at least three times a week. It was no fun but I wouldn’t trade it for all the tea in China. This is where I learned how to become a street cop.”
Charlie was all ears because Lt. A. was about to embark on yet another on
e
of his war stories, which Charlie never tired of hearing.
“Have you ever heard a man cry before? I mean, other than you.
I
cry sometimes so don’t be ashamed to tell me that you do, too. What I’m talking about is hearing another man cry, which happened on one call I went on. I swear I had never seen or heard another human being cry so loud and hard. His sobs were so intense an
d
thunderous that they literally shook his entire body.
“What happened?” Charlie asked.
“The guy’s wife had informed him that she was going to leave him and take the kids,” said Lt. A. as he stared out the window, and Charlie thought he saw a slight tear forming in the boss’ eye.
“My partner Frank and I had nearly a total combination o
f
thirty-three years of experience between us when we responded to that call. It came over as a dispute with a possible gun involved. I can honestl
y
say today that I’ve frequently wished I had never responded to that one; I wish I had called out sick instead.
“It was in one of those two-story wooden frame houses on Victory Boulevar
d
just up from CebraAvenue, right near old Nick’s barber shop. W
e
knocked on the door and a woman immediately let us in. It was obvious that she had been crying. She told us that her husband could not sto
p
drinking. It wasn’t that he beat them when he was drunk. Instead, he spent al
l
their money on that poison and had binges which lasted for days at a time.
“The wife told us she had finally mustered up enough courage to tel
l
him she was leaving with the kids. I guess she hoped that her telling him would have knocked some sense into him and scare him int
o
seeking some professional help,” Lt. A. said wistfully as he took out yet another cigarette and drew heavily on it
,
inhaling the acrid smoke deep into his lungs. Charlie was used to his boss smoking as he told his war stories but he was worried about Lt. A. smoking too much.
“Frank and I wanted to know why she called us if her husband was a peacefu
l
drunk, because by then she had already explained to us that he never hit her.
“She went on to tell us that she still loved him very much but was worried because he had gone down into their basement and she could hear him crying uncontrollably. She also informed us that before he really started to drink heavily he had been an avid hunter and probably still ha
d
his hunting rifles down in the basement.
“Frank and I looked at each other quietly mouthing the words, ‘OH, NO!’”
“We immediately proceeded down the basement steps. Although the wife wanted t
o
come with us, we convinced her to remain upstairs. Before we wen
t
down into the basement she asked us if we thought her husband woul
d
harm himself. We both asked her if this upcoming separation was a shock to him or if he knew it was coming. The wife told us she had just decided to tell him she was leaving but he should have expected it. As we descended the stairs, which were very narrow as well as steep, we called out his name so as not to surprise him.”
“George, are you there?
”
Frank called.
“I’m in the back,” a male voice answered.
We both walked to the back of the cellar where a makeshift den ha
d
been created out of an old, worn, black and white TV and an ancient couch which was torn and ripped in many places. There were old newspapers scattered around everywhere as well as numerous empty bottles of vodka.