The Archangel Drones (13 page)

Peelian Principle

The basic mission for which the police exist is to prevent crime and disorder.

With injuries to multiple areas of his body, Jacob seemed to struggle with the crutches, breaking his father’s heart even on the days when he managed to get around without stumbling. Just a few days ago, his son was a graceful athlete, soaring to unimaginable heights with his vertical leaping ability, moving at dizzying speeds on the court. Now he hobbled, his cut, muscular frame for naught, limited by the weakest link of his body-chain.

The worst of the knee’s swelling had subsided – mostly. It was still an awful looking joint, shades of purple and green identifying the area aggravated from nerve and vessel damage. The first surgery would have to wait until the tissue surrounding the injury had healed.

Sandy didn’t seem to be as melancholy as her husband. Her son was coming home where she could take care of him, see him without the restriction of narrow hours, exhausting drives, and pre-visit security screenings. For Jacob’s sake, she had gone to the grocery store, stocking up on all of his favorite foods. The best television in the house had been moved to the teenager’s room.

Gabe secretly smirked, his mind re-calculating the expected longevity of their home’s flooring.
Probably saved ourselves from an $8,000 repair this year,
he sighed, relieved that the carpet’s lifespan was no longer in immediate jeopardy from Sandy’s troubled pacing. It had been a close call.

Jacob managed the backseat with only one minor groan and two grimaces of pain.

Blood clots were still a threat to his recovery, as were recurring effects from the concussion. The broken ribs were healing better than most of his other wounds. Gabe found it difficult to keep perspective regarding his son’s situation, the father’s rage welling up and then subsiding, his own regrets fighting an internal struggle with a dark need for justice. A victory by either would be bittersweet.

They exited Central Hospital’s circular drive, never looking back at the nurse’s aide returning to the building with the wheelchair. It was an episode of their family history that none of them wanted to remember, all of them secretly sure they’d never be able to forget.

Gabe pushed aside the negativity, partially bolstered by Sandy’s steady stream of upbeat conversation and positive outlook. Mother was determined to cheer up their gloomy son. He was going home. It was all going to get better.

And it was for the first few miles.

A mere ten minutes into the ride, Jacob’s anxious warning from the backseat shocked his parents, his words a revelation of the necessary emotional healing ahead of him. “Dad, there’s a policeman behind you. Watch out!” the panic-laden voice cautioned. “Oh God, please don’t pull us over… please leave us alone.”

“It’s okay, Jacob,” Gabe reassured. “I’m not breaking any laws.”

“That doesn’t matter,” the mumbled response sounded from the backseat.

The kid couldn’t keep from turning around and staring in horror at the squad car following them, despite the pain his contortions were causing. Gabe noticed his son’s breathing had accelerated, small beads of perspiration blooming on his forehead.

He’s terrified
, Gabe realized, trying to figure out how to help.
I suppose none of us will ever fully understand the hell he lives in since this happened.

And then the trailing cop turned off, rolling away on a side street.

It was several minutes before Jacob’s respirations returned to normal, but the threat remained present in the teen’s mind. His eyes darted left and right, his head pivoting front and back in near panic.

The next random encounter with a police cruiser sent Jacob into a huddled ball, ducking low and turning sideways in the seat as if to hide. Jacob covered his face with both hands, slowly rocking back and forth while whispering, “No. No. No.”

Gabe and Sandy exchanged a look, both parents suddenly realizing their son’s injuries extended far beyond the physical damage to ligaments and tendons, muscle and flesh. A new urgency rose inside the Chase family sedan, a priority to get Jacob home and shield his injured mind from the world outside. It was a terrible recognition.

Sandy’s motherly instincts surfaced. “Jacob, Manny promised to stop by this afternoon. She has been over a few times, helping me get your room ready. She can’t wait to see you.”

That single statement calmed the troubled teen instantly.

Mother and son were now connected, her gentle voice penetrating the wall of fear and distrust that existed just outside the sedan’s glass and steel frame. Sandy kept up her side of the conversation, soothing Jacob with promises of his favorite flavor of ice cream, the arrival of his senior pictures in the mail, and Manny’s promise of visiting as often as possible.

During the remainder of the drive, Gabe began to wonder about Manny’s ongoing role in helping Jacob heal. His son’s reaction to the mere mention of her name had been powerful, resulting in a nearly instant transformation.
They have a shared experience
, he realized.
The girl is the only person on earth who truly understands what happened that night.
They’re like two soldiers who shared a foxhole during battle. Only they know. Only they were there.  

Finally, they were pulling into the driveway, both parents watching their son’s reaction closely in the rear view mirror. Jacob casually glanced at his childhood home and asked, “What time is Manny coming over?”

Big Jim’s summons to the main headquarters wasn’t all that unusual. His captain’s tone was.

“I’m taking you off the roster today,” his superior announced. “I have a feeling you’re going to be downtown for the entire shift.”

Marwick didn’t like being called to the principal’s office any more than a factory worker enjoyed being ordered to report to his manager. Still, he wasn’t aware of anything he had done wrong. Maybe he was being promoted or had earned an award.

The big cop recognized the assistant district attorney as he ambled into the conference room, the man’s presence dispelling any thought of reward or glory. When he saw the police union’s lawyer sitting at the other end of the table, a sick feeling rose in the officer’s gut.
Here we go again
, the sergeant said to himself.     

“Thank you for coming,” Tony began after everyone was seated.

As if I had a choice
, Marwick thought.

“I took the liberty of asking Mr. Randolph from the Houston Police Officer’s Union to join us in order to expedite the process,” the ADA continued. “I hope you don’t mind, Officer Marwick.”

“Not at all, sir.”

“We’re here today to review the Jacob Chase incident. I assume you’re familiar with that arrest, sir?”

It was rare for Jim to feel genuine surprise, and it showed on his face. The encounter with the basketball player hadn’t been at the forefront of his thinking. “Vaguely,” he responded. “That arrest wasn’t any big deal as I recall. I’ve dealt with a lot more serious matters since.”

Tony clearly didn’t like the officer’s answer, his response far more harsh than he intended. “Well, Officer Marwick, it’s getting ready to be a big deal… a very big deal.”

“Is my client being accused of wrongdoing?” asked the union lawyer.

“Not officially. Not yet. But I am reasonably sure that is coming down the pike, Counselor. That is why District Attorney Sanders recommended I request your presence here today.”

Tony opened a thick folder resting on the table, shuffling through a few sheets of paper before pulling out the desired document. “What was your probable cause to initiate the traffic stop that night?” he fired.

“The suspect executed an improper stop, exceeding the designated zone with the front of his vehicle.”

Tony wrote the officer’s response in the margin of his paper and then continued. “Where was this improper stop? What intersection?”

“I don’t recall exactly,” Big Jim replied. “I was following the suspect’s car because I found it suspicious that such a young operator was out on the streets at that hour. That, and the temporary tags prompted me to tail him for some distance, in an attempt to determine if there were any criminal activity in progress.”

“And was there?”

“No, not until I decided to initiate the stop. When the driver failed to pull over, I believed he was stalling for some reason. I watched to see if the passenger threw anything out of the vehicle, such as narcotics or stolen merchandise, but I didn’t witness any such act. There was a lot of movement inside, which made it appear as though the occupants were hiding something. By the time the driver curbed the car, I had already called in for backup due to the possible evasion.”

The only noise in the room was the scratching of Tony’s pen as he continued to note the officer’s response. Finally, without looking up, he asked, “How far did Mr. Chase continue to drive after you turned on your emergency lights?”

“I don’t recall exactly,” Jim responded, trying to buy time and figure out exactly where this was all going.

“An estimate of the approximate distance will suffice, Officer.”

The union lawyer sensed something was wrong and interjected, “Is there a problem, Tony?”

The assistant DA nodded, producing a laptop computer from his briefcase. He opened the device and clicked on a few keys. “This is a video discovered by Mr. Chase’s defense attorney. It is from a storage business’s surveillance system, located just three blocks away from where the arrest occurred. You’ll notice that Officer Marwick’s emergency lights are not engaged as the two cars passed through the camera’s field of view.”

Big Jim wanted to explode, his temper flashing hot before the grainy black and white image of his squad car showed in the frame.
How dare they question the word of a peace officer
, he thought.
I’m so sick of every fucking step we take being recorded by some obscure piece of shit camera.
It took all of his discipline to keep his emotions in check.

The sergeant took a deep breath to calm his voice, and then smiled when the right answer popped into his brain. “There is a reasonable explanation for that, sir. Several times during the pursuit I believed the suspect was about to stop his vehicle. I was in an unfamiliar patrol car that evening, having traded shifts for personal reasons. When I believed the suspect was pulling over, I tried to switch the light bar to the rear-only setting, and I remember having inadvertently hit the wrong button. That must have been right when we were passing in front of the camera.”

Tony stared hard across the table, not believing a single word he’d just heard. But he held his tongue, recalling that the witness and he were on the same side – for now.

“Okay, that makes sense,” the ADA lied. “I want to go back to a statement you made earlier. You stated that, and I quote, ‘Such a young operator was out on the streets at that hour.’ So you could see the driver clearly?”

Big Jim shrugged, “Clear enough to make a reasonable estimation of his age.”

“Had you ever seen Mr. Chase before that night?”

“No. Not that I’m aware of,” the cop lied again.

Tony moved back to the laptop, the sound of keystrokes sounding in the otherwise silent room. He spun the display around and said, “Do you recall this incident just three nights before Mr. Chase’s arrest?”

The video this time was of Junior’s basketball game, the clip shortened to show the blocked shot smacking Big Jim in the shoulder as he stood beside the court.

The union lawyer spoke before Big Jim had a chance, “This is ridiculous, Tony. Are you implying my client had it in for Mr. Chase because of a blocked jump shot? That’s really a stretch.”

Tony shook his head, “I spoke with the coach of Officer Marwick’s son’s team this morning. He stated that the shot blocked by Mr. Chase had been taken by the officer’s son. Furthermore, he informed me that the young Mr. Marwick had been in the running for a potential scholarship, but that Jacob Chase’s performance during the city championship game had put the officer’s son out of contention. Furthermore, he confided in me that there had been an on-court incident between Officer Marwick, the officer’s son, and the coach himself during halftime of the game. So no, Mr. Randolph, I don’t think this is a stretch at all. My opinion, however, doesn’t matter. It’s the jury who will determine if the officer’s frame of mind had any bearing on his actions that night.”