Chapter 3

After popping the gumball on the roof, Mike wheeled the car to where he thought the gangway would lead. Sure enough, the suspect came running and crossed a busy Steiner Avenue, carefully dodging the traffic. The senior detective saw his partner running in the rear view mirror and signaled him to follow. With Steve still giving chase, Mike could drive ahead and attempt to box the suspect in.

The man crossed back onto Union and entered another gangway. Mike pulled the car over, confident that the suspect would hit a dead end. He checked to see that Steve was still okay, noting the younger detective trying to negotiate his way safely across Steiner. Redirecting his attention to the suspect, Mike exited the car, pulled his gun and began pursuit himself.

The detective only needed to jog a few steps when he saw that his theory was correct. The gangway hit a dead end. The suspect recognized his predicament and turned to defiantly face his pursuer. With hands in his pocket, he gave the detective an intimidating glare.

"Police, drop your weapon and put your hands up!" Mike hollered.

The man did not comply.

"I said, put your hands up!" Mike repeated as he mentally checked the suspect's appearance to the deli store owner and the dogwalker's descriptions. Long stringy black hair, a gray jacket, jeans and boots.

The man remained defiant. Mike noticed that his right jacket pocket moved. "I said put your hands up. I won't say it again."

"What are you gonna do, old man? Shoot me?," the man sneered.

"You won't want to find out!" Mike threatened as he watched and questioned whether the suspect was carrying a small handgun in his jacket pocket.

"You don't have the balls..." the suspect leered as Mike saw a jerking movement in the pocket.

"This is your last warning," Mike advised.

"Go to hell!" the man said as he jerked his right hand forward.

Mike fired twice and the perpetrator fell.

The detective stood still for a moment. The worst part of his job was firing his weapon and he hated when people died, no matter how bad the crime. He always reasoned that most of the people he encountered did things foolishly or under the influence, but very few were purely evil.

Steve ran up from behind him, slightly out of breath. "I heard the gunshots. Are you okay?" The young man looked over, but continued down by where the suspect lay.

"Be careful!" Mike called out. "He was about to shoot."

Upon reaching the suspect, Steve answered. "I don't think he's going to be a problem. You got him." Steve looked back at his partner. "And here you said my eyes were sharp," he added with a sly smile.

Mike didn't respond to the quip, but instead walked toward the scene. In the meantime, Steve knelt and began searching the suspect, looking for his gun. His efforts became more frantic as Mike got closer. At the end of his search, Steve leaned back.

"What?" Mike asked.

"There's no weapon!"

Mike stood speechless with his gun in hand while Steve managed the scene. Since checking the suspect, the younger detective sprinted back to their car and called Murphy and the other black and whites to notify them of the shooting. Upon return, he again checked on Mike, who was in a state of shock and tried to get the older man to go back to the car. Mike shook his head, but declined a verbal response.

Steve returned to the corpse to look for identification. While there was no gun in the jacket, Steve managed to find - not one but - two wallets. Checking the drivers license photo in the first wallet, Steve quickly speculated that the deceased Caucasian dark haired suspect was not the owner. That designation would go to Mr. Jermaine Washington, a thirty five year old black male who was quite likely missing his billfold.

The second wallet belonged to one Louis C. Damon, a man in his early thirties - and at the time of the photo - neatly trimmed black hair. The skin and facial features were undeniably the suspect's.

After further probing, Steve found a floral coin purse with several bills neatly folded and a slip of paper with a phone number inside, as well as a couple of pieces of beef jerky. There was no handbag to be found, but the young detective figured that the purse was discarded somewhere along the way. Looking at the fabric of the coin purse, he saw a similarity to the suitcase Mrs. Wilson had.

Steve returned to his superior and matter-of-factly stated, "Mike, we have him ID'd. His name was Louis C. Damon. He lived a few blocks west of here on Green Street." Steve watched for a reaction, but got none. "Hey, you okay?"

No response. Mike's steel blue eyes were transfixed on the suspect.

"Mike?" Steve asked again. "Hey, look, it's not your fault. The guy was a thief and damn near murdered someone today."

Mike said nothing for several moments and then responded slowly. "He was unarmed. I've never shot a man who was unarmed. I should have..."

"No," Steve interrupted. "You did what you had to do."

"I thought he was carrying his gun in his jacket," Mike said as he shook his head.

"He had his chance, but he chose to run and resist arrest," Steve offered.

Mike would have none of it. "I had him cornered. He wasn't going anywhere."

"Didn't you tell him to drop his weapon?" Steve asked.

"Of course, I did," Mike answered.

"And did he tell you he was unarmed?" Steve asked.

"No, he just said that I didn't have the courage to shoot him," Mike said sadly.

"Mike, c'mon. You did everything you could." Steve tried to be as encouraging possible, although he quickly realized that had the shoe been on the other foot, he would take it hard as well.

"Did you see him? Did you hear anything he or I said?" Mike asked desperately.

Steve stood for a moment and shook his head. "No, Mike, honestly, I came from behind you after it all happened." He quietly looked at his partner. "You know I have your back no matter what."

Mike turned to Steve with a look of disappointment. "I would never ask you to lie for me, Steve."

"That's not what I meant, Mike. I know you gave him every opportunity." Steve shook his head and then spoke quietly. "There's no one I have more faith in than you."