Vic Mackey drove on the crowded 405 freeway early on a Tuesday morning.
He was headed to work, and had no idea how a simple trip down the freeway
would change the course of his life.
Vic usually paid no mind to the heavy traffic, the honking frustrated drivers, the Nascar wanna-be's in business suits, and the car pool moms with a van full of screaming kids. But this morning, his eyes were drawn to a car. It was a black T-top, a Pontiac Trans Am popular in the eighties. It had come up in the lane next to him and Vic glanced over.
When he did, he had to do a double take. He recognized the driver. But it was impossible! Yet, the dark eyes, the cowboy hat.it rang too familiar in Vic's mind.
The driver of the T-top glanced over. The second their eyes met, Vic knew he was not mistaken.
He knew the face of Joey Rossi anywhere. But Vic's mind defied what his eyes saw. Joey Rossi was dead. He'd been dead for three years.
But yet, the two drivers stared at each other while their metal machines careened down the five at seventy five miles an hour.
The T top driver, who Vic was now positive was Joey Rossi, saw a break in the traffic, shook his head, and punched the gas. The sports car shot ahead, leaving Vic's Durango stuck behind a van. Vic quickly swerved into the next lane in an attempt to catch up with the T-top, but with the heavy traffic and the fact that the fast car way out gunned the SUV, Vic lost the car almost immediately. He slammed the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. "Dammit!" he said to himself.
Vic went straight to the clubhouse on reaching the Farmington station house known as The Barn. Shane was already there. "Morning," Vendrell greeted. "Shane something weird just happened."
"You mean weird 'funny' or weird 'holy shit'?"
"Definitely holy shit weird. I just saw Cowboy on the freeway."
"Cowboy? Joey Rossi? Yeah, that'd qualify as holy shit weird; since he's been dead for three years"
"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but it was him!" Vic insisted.
Shane looked at Vic, who he could tell was not joking around. He clearly saw that Vic believed it was Joey Rossi.
Rossi had been a cop who worked with Vic and Shane in the Special Crimes Unit, for the short period the specialized unit had lived in the LAPD. They had almost been as well organized and instructed at the Strike team. Rossi, originally from Chicago, had come out West to be a cowboy, hence the nickname, once he took to wearing a Stetson.
Shane now could only shrug. "Well, okay, say for some reason that the coroner was wrong, that Cowboy didn't burn up in that fire, that the charred remains they identified with dental records weren't his," he said, a hint of sarcasm rolling off his tongue. "Who was it? And what's more, what's Rossi been up to the past three years?"
"Okay, knock off the lip," Vic warned. "I don't wanna believe it any more than you do, but I'm tellin' you.Look, the guy I saw was either Joe Rossi or his friggin' identical twin. And I don't remember him havin' one of those. Are you gonna help me find out or what?"
It was obvious Vic wasn't letting this go. Since they had no pressing cases, Shane finally nodded. "Yeah, I guess."
"Lets go talk to Dana."
Dana Price had been Rossi's partner in he Major Crime unit. She was now a CSI, using her skills with evidence collection for the specialized investigative crime scene unit.
Shane could only follow Vic's lead. He refused to believe that his old drinking buddy, a fellow cop, and friend was alive.
Jenna Wade, a civilian auditor for the LAPD's Internal Affairs Department, stopped in at Captain David Aceveda's campaign office. She had an agenda on her mind.
After sitting in on Detective Shane Vendrell's shooting panel, Jenna had done enough investigating to decide that he, along with the other members of the Strike Team were operating outside the law. She was determined to prove that to anyone who would listen. Her main supporter was their own captain, David Aceveda. He seemed almost as determined as she to put them in their place and get them off the street.
Jenna had come across documentation in her miles of bureaucratic red tape that led her to believe the Strike Team leader, Vic Mackey, might have known that Terry Crawley was secretly investigating them. Terry, who'd coincidentally been killed not long after he and Aceveda had begun plotting against Mackey, had made a tape recording of a conversation between himself and Mackey. Apparently no one knew about it. Jenna had come across it in some of Terry's personal belongings, which she'd had his mother's permission to go through on the pretense she was an old girlfriend who just wanted to find a card she'd given him for sentimental value. Jenna Wade had never met Terry. But nine years as an investigative reporter had left Jenna with the ambiance to be able to pull off the fairy tale.
And there was the tape. After Jenna listened to it, she knew she had to take it to David. This might mean something.
Vic and Shane found Dana Price hunched over a microscope in a large crime lab in the Parker Center. She was a shapely red head, twice divorced, with 40 closing in on her. Her career was her life. She'd been a good street cop, a great investigator, and now was one of LA's foremost CSI's.
"Hey Dana," Vic greeted, ripping her out of her concentration. She looked up and removed her reading glasses.
"Well hey, Mackey and Vendrell, to what do I owe this honor?" she asked with a smile.
"Geeze, can't a guy come say hi to an old friend?" Mackey said with his charming smile.
"Yeah. But you haven't in almost four years. What's up guys?"
"Vic has this 'idea'-" Shane started.
Vic elbowed him. "I saw something today. Someone. Look, I know you an' Joey were close.."
"Joey Rossi?" Dana asked then, getting a far off look in her eyes. "We were partners. We were friends."
"I heard more," Shane interceded, getting an icy look from Dana and a 'shut up' look from Vic. She finally nodded. "It was a long time ago, but yeah, there was more."
"Dana, look, I know this is gonna sound strange, but.did you ever think that maybe Joey didn't die in that car? That maybe, for some reason, he staged it?"
If the subject hadn't been so painful Dana might have laughed. "Vic, how can you say that?"
"I saw him Dana. I saw him on the freeway. This morning. Driving a black T top." "You saw him? What, his ghost? Joey's dead, Vic." "If you saw someone who was his identical, wouldn't you want to know why, how? This guy, it was more than someone who looked like him. He looked at me. He knew me. It was like he was saying 'forget it Vic. Don't press this'. And then he took off. He ran. Why would some guy who didn't know me run like that?" "Well, you're kind of scary in the morning," Shane intoned, receiving another dirty look.
"Look Vic, they identified Joey with dental records. That's kind of hard to fake unless you pull out you own teeth. I saw the pictures. I saw the car. Cowboy's dead."
"Okay, can you at least humor me for a minute? Can you pull the file?"
Dana sighed. She saw that Vic was not going to give this up. "Yeah, I can pull it. So you can see the same shit I saw. "
Vic, Shane and Dana Price went over the hard file she pulled from the closed case files.
"The CSI's on the case pulled every last bit of evidence from that car. It was Joey's car, the bits of clothing they were able to recover matched what Joey was last seen wearing, and dental records identified the body. Specifically, two back molars that had been crowned."
Vic looked at the horrific pictures. It was a horrible wreck with a devastating outcome. But was it Joey Rossi? Vic still wasn't convinced.
Vic's next stop on his agenda was Rossi's old CO, Lieutenant Jesse Vasquez. He'd been the overseeing officer of the Major Crimes unit and briefly, Vic's boss, as well as Rossi's. Vic and Shane found Vasquez, who was now working Robbery/ Homicide, down in Rampart.
The Lt gave them a considerably more friendly welcome.
"Well they'll just let anyone in the doors these days," the Hispanic said, laughing, while getting up to shake hands with Shane and give Vic a bear hug. "What the hell are you two lowlifes doin' in my precinct?"
"Just cam by to say hi," Vic said, unconvincingly.
"Bullshit," Vasquez said, showing them to his office. "Glad you did, but still, bullshit." They sat down around his desk.
"Vic's got a theory he wants to run by you," Shane told his former boss.
"I saw Joey Rossi. Today. Alive." It was getting easier every time he told the story. Vic went on to describe what happened on the freeway.
Jesse listened, and then began to shake his head. "Vic I know you're expecting me to say you're crazy, but I had something weird happen a few weeks ago. I was down at payroll, doing some research on some of my guys' checks and I accidentally accessed a separate payroll account file." Jesse ran a hand through his thick black hair. "Vic, Joey Rossi, along with Denny Fontaine and Mark Wilson have had payroll checks cut to them every payday for the past two years. I'm not talking about death benefits being paid to their relatives either. I'm talking regular payroll checks."
Vic was familiar with the other two names, also cops who'd been part of the major crimes unit. They'd also been 'killed' in accidents over the past 2 years; Fontaine in a house fire and Wilson fell off a yacht during a party. His body was never recovered.
Shane, who'd been reluctant to accept Vic's theory thus far, was beginning to become more suspicious. Vic was now doubly convinced there was something funny going on.
"I'm going with this Jesse," Vic said. He had been a friend to Rossi. This was not something he'd let lay.
The Hispanic detective had to nod. "You know I can't help in the outs, but I'll do any digging you need."
"Can you dig me up who's been cashing or depositing those checks? At least Cowboy's?" Vic asked.
Vasquez slowly nodded. "For you Vic, I'll do what I can."
They shook hands and Vic and Shane left the division headquarters.
"So say these three are out there somewhere, how the hell do we look for them? They've been doin' pretty good playing dead for three years," Shane pointed out, back in the truck.
"What do those guys, Rossi, Fontaine, and Wilson all have in common, besides they were in the MC Unit with us at the same time?"
Shane shrugged.
"They were all Marines. Wilson was a sniper. They were all adrenaline junkies. And they all loved playing it to the bone. They'd all take it to the edge, probably more than we do. But their biggest connection, they loved their junk."
Shane saw what Vic was saying. "You think they turned fox?"
He used slang to indicate a cop turned criminal, usually one who'd been in the drug world long enough to make a lot of useful contacts. The proverbial fox in the henhouse. "Maybe. Or maybe they're runnin' for someone. Deep cover. It's got to be one or the other."
"Well if they're under, who's pushing them? And if they're not, how the hell do we find them?"
"The same way we find any other street scum. We shake the trees and see what falls out."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
David Aceveda had been unable to find Vic Mackey all day. No one seemed to know what the Strike team was working, least of all their commanding officer. He was doing a slow burn over that when the IAD auditor rapped on his door.
Jenna Wade had been giving him inside information on Vendrell's shooting board, and seemed willing to help him find dirt on Mackey and his team, although Aceveda wasn't sure why she was helping. Not that he'd turn it down. She walked in the door now, a purposeful look on her face.
"Jenna, good to see you again," Aceveda said, momentarily forgetting his agitation. She was a beautiful woman and certainly easy on his eyes. Today she wore a red sweater with a low enough neckline to reveal substantial cleavage and a calf length black skirt. Her long dark hair was loose.
"David," she greeted. She sat down in front of his desk and slid the tape across to him. "I've got something you need to hear."
Aceveda frowned. "What's this?" he asked, picking up the unlabeled cassette. "It's something Terry Crawley recorded before his death."
His head snapped up. "How did you manage to lay your hands on this?"
She shrugged. "His mother gave me permission to go through some of his things. That doesn't matter. What's on the tape does."
"..we take what we do very seriously around here," Vic Mackey's voice said over the speakers of the cassette player.
"I understand that," the voice from beyond the dead of Terry Crowley answered.
"My guys, we're like family, you know? And when one of our family is in trouble, we help out."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And when one of our family is dirty, well we take care of our own."
"What's that mean?"
"It means no good can come from sucking up to Aceveda. It won't get you higher up in the food chain, but it could get you eaten by the tigers."
"Is that a threat?"
Vic laughed. "Now why would I threaten one of my guys?" And with that, the tape went silent.
Aceveda had felt tiny hairs stand up on the back of his neck just upon hearing the dead officer's voice. But hearing the menacing tone in Mackey's voice.it gave him a chill. He knew there was more to Terry's death. He'd always suspected as much. He and Jenna traded glances. This was certainly something. If he
could just figure out how to use it.
Vic usually paid no mind to the heavy traffic, the honking frustrated drivers, the Nascar wanna-be's in business suits, and the car pool moms with a van full of screaming kids. But this morning, his eyes were drawn to a car. It was a black T-top, a Pontiac Trans Am popular in the eighties. It had come up in the lane next to him and Vic glanced over.
When he did, he had to do a double take. He recognized the driver. But it was impossible! Yet, the dark eyes, the cowboy hat.it rang too familiar in Vic's mind.
The driver of the T-top glanced over. The second their eyes met, Vic knew he was not mistaken.
He knew the face of Joey Rossi anywhere. But Vic's mind defied what his eyes saw. Joey Rossi was dead. He'd been dead for three years.
But yet, the two drivers stared at each other while their metal machines careened down the five at seventy five miles an hour.
The T top driver, who Vic was now positive was Joey Rossi, saw a break in the traffic, shook his head, and punched the gas. The sports car shot ahead, leaving Vic's Durango stuck behind a van. Vic quickly swerved into the next lane in an attempt to catch up with the T-top, but with the heavy traffic and the fact that the fast car way out gunned the SUV, Vic lost the car almost immediately. He slammed the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. "Dammit!" he said to himself.
Vic went straight to the clubhouse on reaching the Farmington station house known as The Barn. Shane was already there. "Morning," Vendrell greeted. "Shane something weird just happened."
"You mean weird 'funny' or weird 'holy shit'?"
"Definitely holy shit weird. I just saw Cowboy on the freeway."
"Cowboy? Joey Rossi? Yeah, that'd qualify as holy shit weird; since he's been dead for three years"
"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but it was him!" Vic insisted.
Shane looked at Vic, who he could tell was not joking around. He clearly saw that Vic believed it was Joey Rossi.
Rossi had been a cop who worked with Vic and Shane in the Special Crimes Unit, for the short period the specialized unit had lived in the LAPD. They had almost been as well organized and instructed at the Strike team. Rossi, originally from Chicago, had come out West to be a cowboy, hence the nickname, once he took to wearing a Stetson.
Shane now could only shrug. "Well, okay, say for some reason that the coroner was wrong, that Cowboy didn't burn up in that fire, that the charred remains they identified with dental records weren't his," he said, a hint of sarcasm rolling off his tongue. "Who was it? And what's more, what's Rossi been up to the past three years?"
"Okay, knock off the lip," Vic warned. "I don't wanna believe it any more than you do, but I'm tellin' you.Look, the guy I saw was either Joe Rossi or his friggin' identical twin. And I don't remember him havin' one of those. Are you gonna help me find out or what?"
It was obvious Vic wasn't letting this go. Since they had no pressing cases, Shane finally nodded. "Yeah, I guess."
"Lets go talk to Dana."
Dana Price had been Rossi's partner in he Major Crime unit. She was now a CSI, using her skills with evidence collection for the specialized investigative crime scene unit.
Shane could only follow Vic's lead. He refused to believe that his old drinking buddy, a fellow cop, and friend was alive.
Jenna Wade, a civilian auditor for the LAPD's Internal Affairs Department, stopped in at Captain David Aceveda's campaign office. She had an agenda on her mind.
After sitting in on Detective Shane Vendrell's shooting panel, Jenna had done enough investigating to decide that he, along with the other members of the Strike Team were operating outside the law. She was determined to prove that to anyone who would listen. Her main supporter was their own captain, David Aceveda. He seemed almost as determined as she to put them in their place and get them off the street.
Jenna had come across documentation in her miles of bureaucratic red tape that led her to believe the Strike Team leader, Vic Mackey, might have known that Terry Crawley was secretly investigating them. Terry, who'd coincidentally been killed not long after he and Aceveda had begun plotting against Mackey, had made a tape recording of a conversation between himself and Mackey. Apparently no one knew about it. Jenna had come across it in some of Terry's personal belongings, which she'd had his mother's permission to go through on the pretense she was an old girlfriend who just wanted to find a card she'd given him for sentimental value. Jenna Wade had never met Terry. But nine years as an investigative reporter had left Jenna with the ambiance to be able to pull off the fairy tale.
And there was the tape. After Jenna listened to it, she knew she had to take it to David. This might mean something.
Vic and Shane found Dana Price hunched over a microscope in a large crime lab in the Parker Center. She was a shapely red head, twice divorced, with 40 closing in on her. Her career was her life. She'd been a good street cop, a great investigator, and now was one of LA's foremost CSI's.
"Hey Dana," Vic greeted, ripping her out of her concentration. She looked up and removed her reading glasses.
"Well hey, Mackey and Vendrell, to what do I owe this honor?" she asked with a smile.
"Geeze, can't a guy come say hi to an old friend?" Mackey said with his charming smile.
"Yeah. But you haven't in almost four years. What's up guys?"
"Vic has this 'idea'-" Shane started.
Vic elbowed him. "I saw something today. Someone. Look, I know you an' Joey were close.."
"Joey Rossi?" Dana asked then, getting a far off look in her eyes. "We were partners. We were friends."
"I heard more," Shane interceded, getting an icy look from Dana and a 'shut up' look from Vic. She finally nodded. "It was a long time ago, but yeah, there was more."
"Dana, look, I know this is gonna sound strange, but.did you ever think that maybe Joey didn't die in that car? That maybe, for some reason, he staged it?"
If the subject hadn't been so painful Dana might have laughed. "Vic, how can you say that?"
"I saw him Dana. I saw him on the freeway. This morning. Driving a black T top." "You saw him? What, his ghost? Joey's dead, Vic." "If you saw someone who was his identical, wouldn't you want to know why, how? This guy, it was more than someone who looked like him. He looked at me. He knew me. It was like he was saying 'forget it Vic. Don't press this'. And then he took off. He ran. Why would some guy who didn't know me run like that?" "Well, you're kind of scary in the morning," Shane intoned, receiving another dirty look.
"Look Vic, they identified Joey with dental records. That's kind of hard to fake unless you pull out you own teeth. I saw the pictures. I saw the car. Cowboy's dead."
"Okay, can you at least humor me for a minute? Can you pull the file?"
Dana sighed. She saw that Vic was not going to give this up. "Yeah, I can pull it. So you can see the same shit I saw. "
Vic, Shane and Dana Price went over the hard file she pulled from the closed case files.
"The CSI's on the case pulled every last bit of evidence from that car. It was Joey's car, the bits of clothing they were able to recover matched what Joey was last seen wearing, and dental records identified the body. Specifically, two back molars that had been crowned."
Vic looked at the horrific pictures. It was a horrible wreck with a devastating outcome. But was it Joey Rossi? Vic still wasn't convinced.
Vic's next stop on his agenda was Rossi's old CO, Lieutenant Jesse Vasquez. He'd been the overseeing officer of the Major Crimes unit and briefly, Vic's boss, as well as Rossi's. Vic and Shane found Vasquez, who was now working Robbery/ Homicide, down in Rampart.
The Lt gave them a considerably more friendly welcome.
"Well they'll just let anyone in the doors these days," the Hispanic said, laughing, while getting up to shake hands with Shane and give Vic a bear hug. "What the hell are you two lowlifes doin' in my precinct?"
"Just cam by to say hi," Vic said, unconvincingly.
"Bullshit," Vasquez said, showing them to his office. "Glad you did, but still, bullshit." They sat down around his desk.
"Vic's got a theory he wants to run by you," Shane told his former boss.
"I saw Joey Rossi. Today. Alive." It was getting easier every time he told the story. Vic went on to describe what happened on the freeway.
Jesse listened, and then began to shake his head. "Vic I know you're expecting me to say you're crazy, but I had something weird happen a few weeks ago. I was down at payroll, doing some research on some of my guys' checks and I accidentally accessed a separate payroll account file." Jesse ran a hand through his thick black hair. "Vic, Joey Rossi, along with Denny Fontaine and Mark Wilson have had payroll checks cut to them every payday for the past two years. I'm not talking about death benefits being paid to their relatives either. I'm talking regular payroll checks."
Vic was familiar with the other two names, also cops who'd been part of the major crimes unit. They'd also been 'killed' in accidents over the past 2 years; Fontaine in a house fire and Wilson fell off a yacht during a party. His body was never recovered.
Shane, who'd been reluctant to accept Vic's theory thus far, was beginning to become more suspicious. Vic was now doubly convinced there was something funny going on.
"I'm going with this Jesse," Vic said. He had been a friend to Rossi. This was not something he'd let lay.
The Hispanic detective had to nod. "You know I can't help in the outs, but I'll do any digging you need."
"Can you dig me up who's been cashing or depositing those checks? At least Cowboy's?" Vic asked.
Vasquez slowly nodded. "For you Vic, I'll do what I can."
They shook hands and Vic and Shane left the division headquarters.
"So say these three are out there somewhere, how the hell do we look for them? They've been doin' pretty good playing dead for three years," Shane pointed out, back in the truck.
"What do those guys, Rossi, Fontaine, and Wilson all have in common, besides they were in the MC Unit with us at the same time?"
Shane shrugged.
"They were all Marines. Wilson was a sniper. They were all adrenaline junkies. And they all loved playing it to the bone. They'd all take it to the edge, probably more than we do. But their biggest connection, they loved their junk."
Shane saw what Vic was saying. "You think they turned fox?"
He used slang to indicate a cop turned criminal, usually one who'd been in the drug world long enough to make a lot of useful contacts. The proverbial fox in the henhouse. "Maybe. Or maybe they're runnin' for someone. Deep cover. It's got to be one or the other."
"Well if they're under, who's pushing them? And if they're not, how the hell do we find them?"
"The same way we find any other street scum. We shake the trees and see what falls out."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
David Aceveda had been unable to find Vic Mackey all day. No one seemed to know what the Strike team was working, least of all their commanding officer. He was doing a slow burn over that when the IAD auditor rapped on his door.
Jenna Wade had been giving him inside information on Vendrell's shooting board, and seemed willing to help him find dirt on Mackey and his team, although Aceveda wasn't sure why she was helping. Not that he'd turn it down. She walked in the door now, a purposeful look on her face.
"Jenna, good to see you again," Aceveda said, momentarily forgetting his agitation. She was a beautiful woman and certainly easy on his eyes. Today she wore a red sweater with a low enough neckline to reveal substantial cleavage and a calf length black skirt. Her long dark hair was loose.
"David," she greeted. She sat down in front of his desk and slid the tape across to him. "I've got something you need to hear."
Aceveda frowned. "What's this?" he asked, picking up the unlabeled cassette. "It's something Terry Crawley recorded before his death."
His head snapped up. "How did you manage to lay your hands on this?"
She shrugged. "His mother gave me permission to go through some of his things. That doesn't matter. What's on the tape does."
"..we take what we do very seriously around here," Vic Mackey's voice said over the speakers of the cassette player.
"I understand that," the voice from beyond the dead of Terry Crowley answered.
"My guys, we're like family, you know? And when one of our family is in trouble, we help out."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And when one of our family is dirty, well we take care of our own."
"What's that mean?"
"It means no good can come from sucking up to Aceveda. It won't get you higher up in the food chain, but it could get you eaten by the tigers."
"Is that a threat?"
Vic laughed. "Now why would I threaten one of my guys?" And with that, the tape went silent.
Aceveda had felt tiny hairs stand up on the back of his neck just upon hearing the dead officer's voice. But hearing the menacing tone in Mackey's voice.it gave him a chill. He knew there was more to Terry's death. He'd always suspected as much. He and Jenna traded glances. This was certainly something. If he
could just figure out how to use it.