It would be the first thing he did when he got to his office: going over the previous night's returns. Gary guessed that by this point he had already called up the Chief of Police to brag about closing it, taking all the credit. It was the combination of riding the detectives over every little thing and taking credit for work he didn't do that had earned him his unfavorable nickname – Jack Shit – as in “he sits on his fat ass doing Jack Shit while we bust our asses, but the minute a case breaks he's all about team work.”
“I was just talking to the Chief about that,” Peterson shot back, “we've got to be careful how we handle it. I don't want you talking to any of your reporter friends about him. Is that clear? All questions are to be routed to Media Relations.”
Gary had gone to Cindy Lopez, a crime beat reporter at the LA Times, during his civil trial in an attempt to get his side of the story out. The results had been disastrous, with Lopez lambasting his arrogance in the press. On top of everything, Greeley used the story as proof that Wendell was desperate to pin the heinous series of sexually motivated killings on Whitmore because he was obsessed with him. It was a low blow for Jack Shit to even bring it up, and Gary had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something that might get him written up or moved out to the Valley once and for all.
“Listen, Lieutenant, with all due respect, I don't have reporter friends. I only spoke to that lady at the Los Angeles Times once, and I still regret it to this day. Considering how things turned out I wish you wouldn't keep rubbing it in my face, sir.”
There was a pause that made Gary think maybe he'd gone too far this time. It was an invisible line with the lieutenant so it was easy enough to cross. Maybe it was the traffic or the late night or even the lack of coffee, but at that moment he was feeling stretched and was tired of being pushed around by the one guy who was supposed to be on his side.
Gary could feel his blood pressure rising. A dull black 2005 Honda Civic cut him off without warning and he laid on his horn in anger, screeching to a halt to avoid ramming the guy. The driver flipped him off, holding his unfriendly hand gesture as high as he could out the window so Gary wouldn't miss it.
“ Are you finished?”
“ Yeah I guess,” Gary sighed, bracing for a strong reprimand.
“ With all due respect, Detective, I guess you hadn't heard,” Peterson said at last. “Darnell committed suicide shortly after you left. They found him hanging in his cell.”
“ Jesus fucking Christ.”
Gary's eyes darted back and forth as he tried to remember the number to give to his representative over at the Police Protective League's Defense Assistance Office, but he'd only called them once in all the years he'd been on the job and that was back when the shit had hit the fan over Randall.
“We just want to make sure this is contained and put through the proper channels. Everyone steps out together on this one and we don't lose face. That means if a reporter calls to ask you what happened, you say ‘no comment’ and hang up. Do I have your word on that?”
It was one of Peterson's favorite phrases.
“You have my word,” Gary repeated, knowing the drill by heart.
“ Good. It's a mad house down here today but I've got good news since I know you are nowhere near here yet. I've got a fresh body in West Hollywood over at the adult theater on Santa Monica. I want you to take this one.”
“ That's in Hollywood,” Gary argued. “Shouldn't they take it?”
“ They're backed up with their cases, just like the rest of us,” Peterson snapped. “Murder rate in the city is at an all time high and getting worse by the minute. So we're picking up the overflow. Chief announced it this morning on television. Part of a citywide effort to stomp out crime. Call your partner and have her meet you there. It will keep both of you away from the media for at least a
“I was just talking to the Chief about that,” Peterson shot back, “we've got to be careful how we handle it. I don't want you talking to any of your reporter friends about him. Is that clear? All questions are to be routed to Media Relations.”
Gary had gone to Cindy Lopez, a crime beat reporter at the LA Times, during his civil trial in an attempt to get his side of the story out. The results had been disastrous, with Lopez lambasting his arrogance in the press. On top of everything, Greeley used the story as proof that Wendell was desperate to pin the heinous series of sexually motivated killings on Whitmore because he was obsessed with him. It was a low blow for Jack Shit to even bring it up, and Gary had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something that might get him written up or moved out to the Valley once and for all.
“Listen, Lieutenant, with all due respect, I don't have reporter friends. I only spoke to that lady at the Los Angeles Times once, and I still regret it to this day. Considering how things turned out I wish you wouldn't keep rubbing it in my face, sir.”
There was a pause that made Gary think maybe he'd gone too far this time. It was an invisible line with the lieutenant so it was easy enough to cross. Maybe it was the traffic or the late night or even the lack of coffee, but at that moment he was feeling stretched and was tired of being pushed around by the one guy who was supposed to be on his side.
Gary could feel his blood pressure rising. A dull black 2005 Honda Civic cut him off without warning and he laid on his horn in anger, screeching to a halt to avoid ramming the guy. The driver flipped him off, holding his unfriendly hand gesture as high as he could out the window so Gary wouldn't miss it.
“ Are you finished?”
“ Yeah I guess,” Gary sighed, bracing for a strong reprimand.
“ With all due respect, Detective, I guess you hadn't heard,” Peterson said at last. “Darnell committed suicide shortly after you left. They found him hanging in his cell.”
“ Jesus fucking Christ.”
Gary's eyes darted back and forth as he tried to remember the number to give to his representative over at the Police Protective League's Defense Assistance Office, but he'd only called them once in all the years he'd been on the job and that was back when the shit had hit the fan over Randall.
“We just want to make sure this is contained and put through the proper channels. Everyone steps out together on this one and we don't lose face. That means if a reporter calls to ask you what happened, you say ‘no comment’ and hang up. Do I have your word on that?”
It was one of Peterson's favorite phrases.
“You have my word,” Gary repeated, knowing the drill by heart.
“ Good. It's a mad house down here today but I've got good news since I know you are nowhere near here yet. I've got a fresh body in West Hollywood over at the adult theater on Santa Monica. I want you to take this one.”
“ That's in Hollywood,” Gary argued. “Shouldn't they take it?”
“ They're backed up with their cases, just like the rest of us,” Peterson snapped. “Murder rate in the city is at an all time high and getting worse by the minute. So we're picking up the overflow. Chief announced it this morning on television. Part of a citywide effort to stomp out crime. Call your partner and have her meet you there. It will keep both of you away from the media for at least a
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