thrilling, riding-on-a-roller-coaster way: frightening but safe.
It wasn’t the kind of environment I wanted to expose my daughter to, but there had been no school that day, I had to work, and I was stuck without someone to take care of her. Besides, there wasn’t anyone or anything in that building that wasn’t out there, in plain view, every day of the week on the streets of San Francisco, from Union Square to Fisherman’s Wharf, from Chinatown to Golden Gate Park. It’s that kind of city.
She was going to see it all anyway. And I believe a parent’s job is to prepare her children for independence, for survival in the real world; and sheltering them from the uglier aspects doesn’t necessarily do them any good. At least at police headquarters, the bad guys were handcuffed and there were plenty of cops around to protect us. There was no real danger. Afterward she grilled me with a lot of tough questions about sex, drugs, and crime, which, for me, made the experience worthwhile. We tackled some big, awkward, important issues that day.
That said, I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of taking her back there on a Saturday night, and I hoped Monk had a good reason for the field trip. I didn’t have the energy for another one of those major, land-mine-laden discussions with Julie.
The place wasn’t the madhouse I expected it to be. There wasn’t a perp, skell, or scumbag in sight. With the Blue Flu going on, I guess it was more important for officers to be on the street than at their desks filling out arrest reports.
I was relieved, but Julie was clearly disappointed that she wasn’t going to get another peek at the seamier side of life.
We were met by Officer Curtis as we came into the homicide department.
“Your Jeep is parked in the back,” she said, handing me the keys. “Officer Krupp and the patrol division would appreciate the return of their black-and-white.”
“What about my ticket?” I said.
“It’s gone away,” she said.
I handed Officer Curtis the keys to the patrol car and introduced her to Julie.
“Mom,” Julie protested.
“Oh, excuse me,” I said. “This may look like my daughter, Julie, but she’s actually a psychopath who eats children. Captain Monk and I have brought her in for a brutal interrogation.”
“Then she should be handcuffed.” Officer Curtis took out a plastic band from her pocket, looped it around my daughter’s wrists, and cinched it closed.
Julie growled. Curtis made a show of putting her hand on her holster.
“Don’t make me take you down,” Curtis said.
“Try it, cop,” Julie said. “And I’ll use your bones for soup.”
“Come with me, insane psycho cannibal killer,” Monk said, leading her into the squad room, where Frank Porter was putting photos of the Strangler’s victims (luckily not the crime scene pictures of their corpses) on a bulletin board covered with the information gathered about their lives. Monk went over to study it.
Sparrow was at a computer, checking her e-mail and eating potato chips.
“I’m surprised you’re both still here,” I said.
“So am I,” Sparrow groaned and glanced at her grandfather. “He won’t leave. I think he’s afraid that if he does, they won’t let him back in tomorrow.”
I could understand that. He’d thought he’d lost his badge forever, and now that he had it back again he didn’t want to lose it. And yet, he probably knew this reinstatement wasn’t going to last and wanted to enjoy every moment of the experience while he could.
“Your piercings are so cool,” Julie said, staring at Sparrow’s ears. “Did they hurt?”
“It was excruciating,” I said. “She was writhing in agony for weeks.”
“They didn’t hurt as much as piercing my—” Sparrow began, but I interrupted her.
“She doesn’t want to hear about piercing your whatever.”
“Yes, I do,” Julie protested. “Maybe I want to pierce my whatever.”
“Believe me, you don’t,” I said.
“Where’s my
It wasn’t the kind of environment I wanted to expose my daughter to, but there had been no school that day, I had to work, and I was stuck without someone to take care of her. Besides, there wasn’t anyone or anything in that building that wasn’t out there, in plain view, every day of the week on the streets of San Francisco, from Union Square to Fisherman’s Wharf, from Chinatown to Golden Gate Park. It’s that kind of city.
She was going to see it all anyway. And I believe a parent’s job is to prepare her children for independence, for survival in the real world; and sheltering them from the uglier aspects doesn’t necessarily do them any good. At least at police headquarters, the bad guys were handcuffed and there were plenty of cops around to protect us. There was no real danger. Afterward she grilled me with a lot of tough questions about sex, drugs, and crime, which, for me, made the experience worthwhile. We tackled some big, awkward, important issues that day.
That said, I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of taking her back there on a Saturday night, and I hoped Monk had a good reason for the field trip. I didn’t have the energy for another one of those major, land-mine-laden discussions with Julie.
The place wasn’t the madhouse I expected it to be. There wasn’t a perp, skell, or scumbag in sight. With the Blue Flu going on, I guess it was more important for officers to be on the street than at their desks filling out arrest reports.
I was relieved, but Julie was clearly disappointed that she wasn’t going to get another peek at the seamier side of life.
We were met by Officer Curtis as we came into the homicide department.
“Your Jeep is parked in the back,” she said, handing me the keys. “Officer Krupp and the patrol division would appreciate the return of their black-and-white.”
“What about my ticket?” I said.
“It’s gone away,” she said.
I handed Officer Curtis the keys to the patrol car and introduced her to Julie.
“Mom,” Julie protested.
“Oh, excuse me,” I said. “This may look like my daughter, Julie, but she’s actually a psychopath who eats children. Captain Monk and I have brought her in for a brutal interrogation.”
“Then she should be handcuffed.” Officer Curtis took out a plastic band from her pocket, looped it around my daughter’s wrists, and cinched it closed.
Julie growled. Curtis made a show of putting her hand on her holster.
“Don’t make me take you down,” Curtis said.
“Try it, cop,” Julie said. “And I’ll use your bones for soup.”
“Come with me, insane psycho cannibal killer,” Monk said, leading her into the squad room, where Frank Porter was putting photos of the Strangler’s victims (luckily not the crime scene pictures of their corpses) on a bulletin board covered with the information gathered about their lives. Monk went over to study it.
Sparrow was at a computer, checking her e-mail and eating potato chips.
“I’m surprised you’re both still here,” I said.
“So am I,” Sparrow groaned and glanced at her grandfather. “He won’t leave. I think he’s afraid that if he does, they won’t let him back in tomorrow.”
I could understand that. He’d thought he’d lost his badge forever, and now that he had it back again he didn’t want to lose it. And yet, he probably knew this reinstatement wasn’t going to last and wanted to enjoy every moment of the experience while he could.
“Your piercings are so cool,” Julie said, staring at Sparrow’s ears. “Did they hurt?”
“It was excruciating,” I said. “She was writhing in agony for weeks.”
“They didn’t hurt as much as piercing my—” Sparrow began, but I interrupted her.
“She doesn’t want to hear about piercing your whatever.”
“Yes, I do,” Julie protested. “Maybe I want to pierce my whatever.”
“Believe me, you don’t,” I said.
“Where’s my
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