Monday – 2000 – 9:00pm
The call came into Patrol first. Local Black and White officers pulled up to the apartment in which the call originated from and which the crime was originally allegedly committed.
A woman placed the call into dispatch. She was getting something from her car when she saw a body slouched over in the front seat. She didn't know if they were dead or if they were alive. She couldn't tell if there had been any foul play – she didn't take a survey of the car, it just seemed off. She called it an instinct, a gut feeling, and she went along with it.
A single patrol car pulled up to the front of the building. The two officers got out and entered the building, flashing their badges at the man at the security desk. It was customary to have a junior officer and a senior when on Patrol. The junior had yet to complete their probationary training and needed supervision. The senior was essentially there along for the ride, to point out their mistakes, and to be the supervision and to step in when necessary.
The landlord of the building greeted the two men. He had the set of keys that would lead them up to the roof where the woman had reported the body. The woman who had called was also near by; they would get to her later. It was the bodies that the two patrol officers were most interested in.
As the woman reported it just looked like the couple was asleep. The man had his head against the steering wheel. The female next to him, in the passenger seat had her head resting against the window. Both victims were deceased – victims of apparent gun shot wounds; multiple gun shot wounds. The shattered glass that was riddled with bullets helped prove that theory.
"Call it in," the training officer said.
It was policy to call in the Detectives who would be dealing with this. Patrol essentially could step back; disappear into their world while the other guys dealt with the case. It was a double homicide so the kid called the only number he knew off the top of his head that would be able to properly get this figure out.
Major Crimes.
Mike Tao was the first to arrive, closely followed by the rest of the squad. Provenza walked up to the Command center that was already set up, flashed his badge and zoned in on the kid. Provenza stepped up to him, gave the kid a look and waited for the kid to start speaking.
"Uh," the kid started, flipping open his notebook. "Male driver, female passenger, both shot to death inside their vehicle."
"What else?" Provenza asked, noticing the female officer crouched down next to the driver's side. "Who is that?"
"She was-" the kid stuttered, when Provenza gave him a weary look. "She got here before you guys did. I thought she was one of you."
"Well she's not," Provenza said, stalking off.
This was their crime scene. Their crime scene, their bodies, their car – all of it was theirs. He wasn't going to let some woman from wherever she came from get in the middle of it. He wasn't going to have it taken over.
"This isn't a robbery," she said, righting herself up and turning around to face Provenza who she heard coming.
Provenza stopped, his mind reeling at a million miles a minute. This lady, woman, who beat them to it, was Sharon Raydor. Her husband was this lawyer that everyone wanted, but everyone hated when they had to come into work the next morning. It was common knowledge that the man was a drinker. So dealing with the boisterous lawyer after a night of drinking made everyone stand on edge. No one knew what he was going to do.
His wife frequented the magazines. He put serial killers in jail like it was no problem. He weaved the jury into his web, got them to believe anything that came out of his mouth and one night, years ago, he became a celebrity. By default so did she.
"If it wasn't a robbery then what was it?" Provenza quipped back.
"A murder, Lieutenant," she snipped in return.
Sharon Raydor made a circle of the car, taking in the fourteen bullet casings that surrounded the car, the entry points in the car and the number of bullets in the victim's themselves. From what she could see they were shot multiple times to the front and to the back of the head. There were burn marks on the holes in the window. It was personal yet the couple probably didn't know the shooter, or vice versa. Or both.
"Any witnesses?" Sharon asked.
Provenza turned and pointed at the patrol officer who was standing with Flynn. Provenza beckoned the kid with a crooked finger and pointed to the spot where he wanted him. Right in front of the Captain.
The kid, obediently, came. Nervous. Shaky. This was a murder. His first murder. He had his feet on the ground for a little over thirteen hours on his first official day as an officer. All he did was respond to a call.
"What's your name?" Sharon asked the boy as he stepped up to her.
"Buzz," the kid said quickly. "Watson. Officer Watson, ma'am."
"Buzz," she said, trying the name out. "Buzz what can you tell me about witnesses?"
"There were none," he replied quickly. Both the Captain and Lieutenant looked up at him with surprised looks. "I went and asked the neighbors, no one heard or saw anything."
"What about the woman who called it in?"
"She was just getting something from her car when she saw the body slumped over the wheel," Buzz filled in for her. "She didn't see anything either."
"Are there surveillance cameras?" Sharon asked, turning and directing the question to Provenza.
"Tao!" He yelled, earning the man who was currently kneeling and picking up the shell casings and putting them in an evidence bag.
Tao clicked his pen before standing.
"There's cameras, just pointed away," he said, using his pen as a pointer.
It was true; where the couple parked their car was out of the camera's peripheral. The same with the other camera on the other side.
"Not many people come up here," Tao pointed out. "No real need for cameras."
"Maybe our suspect knew where the cameras were and moved them," Sharon pointed out. "Let's talk to the building manager and find that out."
Tao nodded and began to walk away. Sharon turned and pointed to the bodies.
"Has this been documented?" she asked.
Provenza looked to Buzz who looked back at his superior officer who was on the phone.
"Don't look at Flynn," Provenza growled. "Did this get documented or not?"
When Buzz couldn't come up with an answer, Sharon held up her hand.
"Everybody stop!" Sharon yelled out, forcing everyone to stop dead in their tracks. "Someone please, do their job and get this documented."
When no one moved, because it wasn't anyone's job, Buzz dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
"Does it matter how it's documented?"
"Are you able to put that on a drive somewhere?" Buzz nodded at the Captain's question. "Then no. Thank you Buzz."
Sharon walked away from the scene and made her way to Lieutenant Flynn, who was hanging up the phone as she approached him.
When she came up to him she gave him a small smile and turned away.
"How's he doing?" Sharon asked, pointing to Buzz who was opening the door to the car.
"First murder," Andy shrugged. "We got here about forty minutes ago. Not much to tell you."
Eventually he would have to talk to her. It was a little over a month ago that he dropped off her drunken husband on her doorstep. It was a little over two months when he asked her out to the ballet; it was because his daughter had tickets, extra ones and he figured she would like them. It was completely innocent.
Andy had been a friend of the Raydor family for sometime. Their friendship started right after her first kid was born – unfortunately it was all over the papers. The press was in some sort of frenzy that their best lawyer to follow was falling off the map for a while to be a father. Not that it lasted; he was in the press two weeks after their daughter was born and Sharon was on his arm as the dutiful wife did.
"She just can't take over the case," Provenza growled at the Assistant Chief.
Everyone was getting some sort of promotion internally, recently. Pope became the King of LAPD and Taylor was his errand boy. His puppet. But regardless, Provenza still had to deal with him.
"She can, she did, and she is," Taylor said. "This is your department until we can find a replacement for the vacant spot, until then, she's the lead investigator and Senior Officer. Give her a break Provenza."
"If I don't?" Provenza challenged.
"She's still FID," Taylor shrugged. "She'll figure something out."
With that Taylor walked back down his normal hallway and disappeared on the other side of his glass door.
It was a little bit before Midnight when the team came back into their Murder Room. Sharon Raydor had a brown box, her hands full of evidence. Lot of little bags with clothing evidence, the victim's blood stained clothes, the bullet casings that were found on the floor around the car and the various photographs that Officer Watson had taken and printed.
Sharon checked her watch when she lowered herself on the corner of someone's desk. She rubbed her forehead. She promised her son she'd be home for dinner.
"Okay," Sharon said. "Run through it one more time."
No one said anything and no one really moved to tell her a thing. Everything she needed to know was staring back at her on their large whiteboard, the facts written in one color, the witness statements in another, and potential leads in another. No one had to say anything.
"Guys," Sharon groaned. "One more time. Let's go."
"A couple, male and female were both found shot dead in the car at approximately 9:05," Buzz said, standing up at his makeshift desk. He was still loading up the photos for the case. "Fourteen casings were found on the floor, broken glass indicates that the shooter shot through the window to get to the victims. The fourteen casings match the fourteen bullet holes that the victims had collectively."
"Thank you Buzz," Sharon nodded, before turning to everyone else. "Any leads on finding out how who these people are?"
"He works at a school," Andy said, pointing to the male. "The female, we had a possible lead, we're just waiting on the phone call."
"Anything from the M.E.?" Sharon asked.
"Our resident M.E. said that cause of death definitely was a gun shot wound to the head," Provenza said. "Took Buzz with me. Buzz, tell her what the good doctor said."
The young officer rolled his eyes but stood. Him and Flynn were still in their uniform, despite the order to change his clothes. If the kid didn't change his clothes, neither did Flynn. It was a thing.
"The other bullets were overkill," Buzz said. "It could be argued that the shooter targeted them, by the collection of bullets."
Sharon nodded, wrote the things Buzz said, and tucked the notepad under her. She let out a yawn, that she tried to cover her hand and shook her head before apologizing.
"Alright everyone," Sharon said, slipping off the desk. "Go home. If there's any leads we'll follow them in the morning."
"Uh Captain," Provenza called out. "We could follow up with the man's friends. See who the woman in the car with him was."
She shook her head. "That can wait 'til tomorrow. We're not going to ruin these people's evening with news that their friend is dead."
If they woke up the friends and the friends felt like something had to be hidden, there was a chance that they'd lawyer up. Which meant someone's husband; someone's wife would get woken up at home. She frequented the other side of that phone more often than she'd like. It was different when she was a cop, but a lawyer's wife – she just wanted to sleep through the night. Especially when she had her children to think about.
Her coat was on, her purse on her shoulder, her keys in her hand – she was getting ready to leave. As was the rest of the team when the phone rang. They had yet to set up a tip line, they had yet to set up anything really, and yet they already got a phone call.
Taylor had been down earlier to let her know that the press had gotten their hands on it. The murder had made the 11 o'clock news. The report was vague; the only information given out was what Taylor had given them. The more information they received, the more the press would. The press would get everything if they couldn't find who did this.
The phone silenced for a short time before ringing again. The phone rang and no one moved. Sharon sighed, knowing she was going to miss not only dinner, but also possibly breakfast now with her son. She checked her watched. Just after midnight now.
The phone rang and she dropped her purse, slipped off her coat, slung it on the back of the chair and reached for the phone. Someone had to answer.
New story. New world. All based on true events that happened a couple years ago in LA.
Read and Review. Let me know what you think!