Collision Course (A Josh Williams Novel) (16 page)

"
Jeannie
, what's the harm?" Steve Harris said, knowing that Jeannie Cavanaugh could not resist. "It's only a minor document, means nothing, just a notice for God's sake, come on." Handing her the document, “It’s no big deal.”

Cavanaugh took the paper, looked around the office, reset the stamp to the preceding day, and marked the document as received as of the previous day's close of business.

"If anyone finds out about this, Steve, I can lose my job," she said, looking around again.

"How can anyone find out? It's only you and I. Jeannie we have known each other for years. I would never put you in jeopardy. If anyone were to ask, you can say you overlooked it during the logging process. No one will question you."

Jeannie took the document, made an entry into the daily document filing system indicating an oversight, and put the document into the appropriate case file.

"Thanks Jeannie. Let me buy you lunch next week sometime," winking as he walked to the door. Harris turned back to look at Jeannie, smiled again, and headed out of the office.

Jeannie hesitated for a moment, sat down at her desk, and picked up the phone. The son-of-a-bitch thinks I am stupid. He will never call me for lunch, she thought, as the line began ringing.

"US Attorney's Office, how may I direct your call?" a pleasant voice answered.

"Yes this is Jeannie Cavanaugh. I am a clerk in the US District Court; may I please speak to Mr. Collucci?"

"One moment please, I will see if he is available."

Waiting on the line, Jeannie took time to consider what she was doing
. Mr. Collucci was trying to clean up the system. I know this is the appropriate thing to do.

A new voice on the line interrupted her thoughts.

"Jeannie," the United States Attorney for the District of Rhode Island, Robert Michael Collucci, said, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Well, sir," Jeannie began.

"Robert, please call me Robert," Collucci interjected.

"Ah, Robert, you asked me to call you if I was approached by any lawyers asking for me to do something, well, improper."

"Yes, indeed. You know I need all the help I can get in weeding out this incipient pattern of ethical violations," Collucci said, sounding like a line for a television news teaser.

"Well, one just did. Steven Harris, from the public defender's office. He asked me to back date a document." She hesitated a moment, then continued, "I did what he asked, making sure I was in view of the security cameras like you told me. I have the document here for you."

"Thank you, Jeannie. You have done a great service today. I'll have an FBI agent come over and pick up the document." Collucci's voice was almost paternal in tone, congratulating a child for a good grade.

Josh
and Chris were on their way to meet with agents from the Drug Enforcement Administration when they received a call to respond to the Chief's office immediately.

Driving back over the Washington Bridge, they headed on to Taunton Ave. As he drove, Josh sensed something bad.

"So what the fuck does El Jefe want now?"

"How the hell should I know?" Chris answered, "Maybe he wants to promote you."

"More likely he's getting fucking pressure from all the political hoes to stick me in the rubber gun squad." Josh shook his head and sighed.

"Look, whatever he does, you know he'd never hurt a cop. He's a good guy, Josh; he'll take care of you," Chris said, touching his arm, "but just in case I am calling Hawk and have him ready to jump over here."

"My guess is he's probably jumping something already, Miss L A P certified." Josh said, laughing as they pulled into the station. They both spotted the dark-blue Crown Victoria in front of the station. Since they did not know the car, they assumed Feds.

"Oh fuck," Josh said, "those bastards better not even think of trying to take me out in cuffs. I’ll give them a real good reason for it, motherfucking cop fucking prima donnas."

"Whoa, whoa big guy, the local agents know you. They would call and have you come to the courthouse. I bet these guys are from DC Collucci doesn't have the balls to do anything himself, and the local SAIC wouldn't tolerate bullshit."

Pulling into the lot behind the station, they parked the car and headed toward the entrance. Michael "Mick" O'Hara, a former Airborne Ranger with two tours in Iraq and a slew of combat decorations, walked over to Josh.

O'Hara was not particularly big, but he projected strength. People often made the mistake of lumping him into the muscle head category. That was a mistake.

O’Hara patted Josh on the back, his United State Military Academy ring shining in the sunlight. “How you doing, Sarge?”

O’Hara enjoyed being a cop, some aspects resembled combat, but one could function as an individual, have an impact. Michael O'Hara had done that many times.

When he retired very few outsiders would know of him, but he would have indeed made a difference.

"Listen, I saw the Feds heading into the Chief's office. You keep your head on straight and don't let them push you into something stupid."

O’Hara put his hands on Josh’s shoulders, "We all know you did what you had to do. Those pussies would have shit themselves just hearing the call. You are one of the best cops here; you know what matters and what's right.”

O’Hara looked over at Hamlin, “I am right, Lieutenant. This is bullshit.”

Hamlin nodded. “Pure federal bullshit Mick. You hit it on the head.”

O’Hara continued, “Forget those guys, you go up there and no matter what you remember there are 100 of us behind you all the way."

Josh smiled and said, "Jeez, what the fuck Mick, you almost sound comforting. I thought you were gonna kiss me there for a moment."

"Fuck you, Josh, or rather Sergeant Williams," stepping back, rising to attention, "you just remember you've got a lot of friends out here."

"Thanks, Mick, I really appreciate it." Josh smiled, looked at Chris, and then said, "Now get the fuck back on the road and try to catch a bad guy for once, will ya?"

Josh and Chris entered the reception area of the Chief's office.

The Chief's aid, Daniel Zalewski looked up and smiled. "Lieutenant Hamlin, Sergeant Williams how are you? Please have a seat and the Chief will be with you in a moment."

He rose from the desk, walked over to the two officers, and whispered, "You'll love this. When the federal agents came in, I called the Chief on the intercom and announced their presence. He said ' really, for what, find out', and turned off the intercom. I asked the agents why they needed to see the Chief, and the lead agent said, ' a matter of confidentiality, we need to speak to the Chief directly'. So I push the intercom button again, tell the Chief what the agent said, and the Chief says, ' Dan you're my confidential aide, have them tell you, and you can tell me'." Danny's smile was contagious.

Looking around the room, he continued. "Needless to say the FBI was not happy. So,” dragging the word out, “I called the Chief again, and he said ' okay, have them wait a minute. I got that other federal Agency on the line, DEA, or ATF, or some such fucking alphabet, and they have something to tell me that's a national fucking secret as well." Danny laughed quietly and returned to his desk.

Chief Winston Franklin Brennan was an anachronism among the group of people who have served in the position of Chief of Police. He was a political realist, who maneuvered himself into the position by ingratiating himself with connected insiders. He maintained a certain level of separation from any direct involvement, except for the occasional fixing of a speeding ticket or favorable recommendation to the prosecutor's office for leniency in a minor criminal case. Each favor duly noted and indexed in a stack of cards. Most importantly, he outlived the politicians who put him in office. He served more years than any other head of a law enforcement agency in Rhode Island, including the legendary, Colonel Walter Stone, Superintendent of the Rhode Island State Police.

"Where are they from Dan?" Chris asked.

"DC, Civil Rights division." Dan answered; looking at Josh, then back at Chris.

"Son-of-a-bitch," Josh said, "fucking witch hunting pricks."

The door to the Chief’s office opened and the Chief walked out, his body filling the doorframe.

"Well, come on in Sergeant. The boys from the FBI's Civil Rights division would like to speak with you."

Chris said, "Do you want me in there as well?"

A voice from inside the office said, “We’d prefer to speak to Sergeant Williams alone.”

The chief turned around and said, “Ah well, my office, my rules.”

"You come in as well Lieutenant; we're all brothers and sisters engaged in a noble profession."

The Chief's aide beamed a huge smile.

Josh and Chris entered the Chief's office. The two FBI agents sat at the conference table; one of them rose, walking over to Josh.

"Sergeant Williams," the agent said," I am Special Agent Theo Murray. I am from the Civil Rights division in Washington. I would like to ask you a few questions if I could. I know we aren't particularly popular with you guys, but I am just trying to do my job," smiling and extending his hand.

Josh shook his hand.
They must brainwash these people into believing they really are here to help.
Turning his back to the agent, Josh asked. "Do you want me to speak with them, sir?"

"Well, Sergeant, I won't order you to talk to them. I don't think it appropriate for me to ask you to talk to them, but in the interest of inter-agency relations, I suppose listening to what they have to ask isn't too much to expect."

Looking over to Chris, "How about you Lieutenant, what do you think?"

"Sir, I think we can all listen to what they have to say and decide from there,” Chris replied.

The conversation took place as if the agents were not even in the room.

The agent who was sitting, stood, and said, "Sergeant, I am Special Agent in charge Jeffery Slattery, DC Civil Rights Division. We have a number of questions regarding the circumstances of the shooting death of an unarmed individual and your involvement. I prefer to discuss this with you privately. I assure you this is only a preliminary inquiry, and we are not here on a formal complaint."

Josh turned to the Chief and said, "Okay. I listened. I think I have extended myself sufficiently in furtherance of, what did you call it, inter-agency cooperation," his tone sarcastic. “With your permission, I will excuse myself from any further discussion."

Ignoring the agents, Josh continued. "You have all my reports, Chief. I am sure the agents here will be seeking copies." Turning to the agents, "Gentlemen, I have nothing else to add to the report and nothing more to discuss with you, not now, not ever."

Josh turned and walked out of the office. Lt. Hamlin, barely concealing a smile, looking toward the agents, added, "Sergeant Williams is one of the most conscientious, honest, straightforward cops I have ever worked with. You probably do not know this, and likely do not care, but that asshole of a US Attorney we have here is trying to make political capital out of this, and he is using you to do it. I hope you're proud of yourselves," turning to the Chief "and I'll be taking my leave as well, sir."

"Lieutenant," Agent Slattery replied, "I resent the implications. I am here to do my job, with or without this agency's assistance, if that's the attitude you are going to take then I will...."

Chris turned abruptly around, "You'll what? You people could not solve a fucking suicide. The problem is you have never been a real cop. You know nothing of the case other than what you choose to believe, and try to intimidate people with your fancy suits and titles. You people are like seagulls, you fly in, shit all over everyone, and then you fly back out after you have done nothing but ruin a good cop's career. There is no search for the truth; you probably have not even read the reports. You just assume that because the guy turned out to be unarmed, and black, then the bigoted white guy is guilty."

Walking to stand directly in front of Slattery, the quickness of her movement catching him off-guard, forcing him to step back, Chris continued. "You carry on with your witch-hunt, you guys always do, but I can guarantee this, and you mark my words, no matter what the fuck you guys try, we're going to win this. Do you know why? Because Sergeant Williams did nothing wrong. You'll end up looking like idiots, again!"

Turning to the Chief, "and that's my contribution to inter-agency cooperation, sir.” Executing a perfect about-face, Chris walked out the door.

The Chief walked back to his desk, sat down, and reached into the top drawer. Pausing a moment, enjoying the uncertainty in the agents' eyes, he withdrew a cigar.

Propping it in his mouth, he said, "well boys, unless there are some more pressing matters we need to dispose of I am going to go smoke my cigar and head home for lunch."

Rising and putting on his jacket to indicate the discussion was no longer open.

Slattery looked at the Chief, shook his head, and said, "You know Chief, this isn't going to make your department, or you, look very good, given your lack of cooperation. I suggest..."

Chief Brennan turned to the agents, coming to his full, most intimidating, height, "Gentlemen. I have extended all the courtesies to you that I am willing. I have been doing this job for 35 years, and I do not need any advice from you on how to manage this department. In light of some of the shit your agency pulled in Boston with Whitey and crew, I would not be bragging too much about reputation. You aren't the first prima donnas from the FBI to stand here, and I am woefully certain you won't be the last."

Walking to the office door, the Chief turned, looking directly at Slattery. "I run an honest department, we don't cover up anything, if we have warts we show them, and then we cut them off. I want to reemphasize what Lieutenant Williams said, albeit in-artfully. The evidence in this matter is clear. This is a legitimate, justified, and unfortunate officer involved shooting. The fact that politics have weaseled itself in I find disgusting.”

Forcing the agents toward the door, Brennan chastised them.

“Don't you find it odd that the US Attorney in Rhode Island has to import a couple of agents from Washington, when he has access to any number of qualified, and quite capable, agents in the Providence field office?” Holding his arms apart, palms up.

“We have always maintained a great working relationship with the local office. Certainly, they are capable of asking a few questions in an informal inquiry, or however you defined your presence.

I agree with Lieutenant Williams. I wonder if your conscience bothers you when you become the instrument of a subversive, politically motivated, manipulation of the judicial process."

Brennan herded the agents out the door.

"This isn't over, Chief. We'll be back with Federal Grand jury subpoenas, and your investigation better be in order."

"Son," the Chief replied, "when your master sends you back here, please maintain that same cool professionalism you just demonstrated. It so reinforces my feelings about the efficacy of the federal government."

The agents walked past the outer office desk, the Chief following behind. He looked at his aide and said, "Danny boy, make a note, new policy. Anybody coming in here from some alphabet soup agency, federal or otherwise, you will refer them to Captain Charland. He loves that shit, and I don't have time for this nonsense."

Slattery turned to say something, but Murray pushed him out of the door. "Let it go, Jeff. We'll come back and deal with this a different way."