"No bet", Pete chuckled as he kept a grip on Sally's hand. "I have inside information, remember?" They both heard the chime of her clock. "This was fun, but I need to get going."
"Are you sure you want to go home?" Pete had leaned forward to pick up his wine glass; no sense wasting what was left. He glanced at her sideways, his eyes narrowed. What was she up to?
"No, but I need to. I'm only going to get about five hours of sleep as it is." He had told her earlier that the review board was meeting at nine tomorrow morning, actually this morning. Then he noticed the worry in her eyes; she was afraid that he might have another nightmare. "I'll be fine. I promise."
At nine-thirty the next morning, Pete was sitting in a hallway in Parker Center. He had arrived ten minutes early only to be asked to wait outside for forty minutes. They didn't give him any reason and as a result, his mind was running through a string of possibilities; none of them sounded good. Why rush to convene a board only to delay it? He was getting a headache.
"Pete?" It wasn't often that someone was able to approach him without his noticing them before they spoke. This morning he almost jumped out of his skin. Captain Moore gave him a few seconds before he spoke again.
"Aren't you supposed to be inside the hearing room?" Val pointed towards the large oak double doors in the wall across from Pete.
"Tell them that. I got here on time and was asked to wait out here." By now, Pete was back to normal; he wasn't giving anything he felt away. "I could have slept in." An officer opened the doors, asking Pete to come sit before the board. He stood and Val put a reassuring hand on Pete's shoulder. "Try to relax."
As directed, Pete took a seat in front of the three members of the review board; none of which he knew personally. The Chairman, a Captain Butler, apologized for the delay, citing a need to review some last minute reports. Pete confirmed his personal information, badge and id numbers, service dates, rank, etc. before giving his version of events. When he finished, he sat back, waiting for the questions to begin.
"Officer Malloy, are you certain that you identified yourself as a police officer before shooting the suspects?" Part of Pete wanted to tell them to read the reports and the witness statements, but he kept his tongue and answered in the affirmative.
"Could you have identified them if you didn't shoot? Did you have any idea who you were shooting at? Why did you decide to shoot?" This question was from a lieutenant in Hollywood Division.
"No Sir, they were wearing ski masks and I shot because they fired at me, after I gave them the warning." He paused a moment before continuing. "I was more concerned with stopping them than I was of trying to ID them.
"Would you have shot at them if you knew one of them was female?" So that's where the lieutenant was going with his questions.
"Yes Sir, I would have. She shot at me first." Pete managed to not roll his eyes at the question. Should he have let her shoot him instead?
"Do you regret killing that beautiful young woman?" The third member, a sergeant working in Parker Center, contributed that question and Pete resented the phrasing; it made it sound like he shot an innocent girl.
"Whether I regret it or not, isn't germane to the issue." He returned the glare he was getting from the third member. "I'm not required to answer questions like that."
"I want to know if you believe in God, Officer Malloy. What do you think his opinion of you killing a twenty year of woman would be?" This wasn't the first time Pete had faced a review board member who didn't understand that personal beliefs and values aren't, according to law, relevant.
"If I end up in Heaven, I will be sure to ask him what he thought about the shooting, but not being God, I can't answer it now." He has stepped over the line with a flippant answer; how else was he supposed to answer it? Pete felt that his soul was his own business.
"Sergeant, Officer Malloy's religious beliefs are none of our concern. Do you have any questions related to his actions the other night?" Once again the sergeant spoke up.
"I can see by your uniform that you are a Distinguished Expert. Did you shoot to kill?" Pete was sure that his honest answer would not help him with the sergeant, but he gave it anyway.
"I was shooting at two moving targets that were shooting at me, so yes, I aimed for the chest." It was the best way to say that he did shoot to kill; he always did. Pete was certain that the sergeant wasn't a fan of his.
"Shouldn't an expert, like you, aim to wound a suspect instead of aiming to kill?" Before he could answer the question, Captain Butler did it for him; citing department policy against aiming to hit an arm or leg. To aim to wound was considered a dangerous move. It was too easy to miss and would put the lives of the officers present at risk. "Does anyone have a relevant question?"
Pete nodded to the captain in a gesture of gratitude. When the other two members of the board declined to question him, Captain Butler asked Pete to wait outside.
Pete didn't know what to think. The review boards he faced before asked a lot more questions and then sent him home to await their decision. He was surprised to see that Val Moore had waited for him to come out and the Captain was equally surprised that the board had told Pete to stay. They took a seat to wait; Moore did, anyway. Pete couldn't sit still. He knew he had no choice about the shooting, but that was no guarantee that the board would see it that way.
"Will you sit down, please? They aren't going to come to a decision faster if you keep pacing." Moore had sweated out his share of shooting review boards himself; pacing in much the same way Pete was doing now. He chuckled to himself, remembering a green as pond scum rookie with bright red hair. He had trained six rookies and while they all became good cops, Pete was different; he was constantly questioning Val on why things were done a certain way, arguing for a different approach when he thought he was right. For most cops, it was enough to know the rules, not the whys. That drive to understand every angle enabled Pete to evaluate a situation and come up with a solution faster than others did; it was, in Val's opinion, why he deserved to be a sergeant.
If you asked Pete later, he would swear that he waited in that hallway for hours, instead of the twenty minutes it actually was. He was wanted back in the hearing room. After some wrangling, Captain Moore was permitted to accompany Pete, who was now standing in front of the board members. It was Captain Butler who delivered the board's verdict.
"Officer Malloy, as you know, having been through this before, that our normal procedure is to notify your commanding officer in writing as to our decision. The unusual aspects of this shooting necessitate our taking action as quickly as possible."
It was cool in the hearing room, but as he stood waiting, Pete could feel the trickle of sweat running between his shoulder blades. He didn't think that the board's wanting a swift verdict boded well for him. From the corner of his eye, Pete could see his former training officer bracing himself; preparing to protest the board's decision.
"Thanks to the dogged determination of the detectives working you case, we had all the information needed to make our decision today. The public has a right to know the truth as to your actions on the night of the seventh, but a delay in reviewing this incident left it open for speculation by the public and the press. It is truly disturbing that a young woman died that evening. Many will speculate as to your guilt or innocence even after we release our findings." Butler paused, glancing towards the sergeant on the panel
"It is the judgement of this panel that your actions constitute an in-policy shooting. Every report and witness statement agrees that you followed accepted procedures. At the discretion of your commanding officer, you are restored to duty."
Pete wasn't sure he heard right, but he thanked the board for the time and effort they put in on his behalf. He stood in place, not daring to move until Moore patted his shoulder.
"Come on, you have a shift to finish."
Thirty minutes later, Pete was reaching for the handle when the door was opened from the inside. Ed Wells almost ran into him, but stopped short, causing another officer to bump into his back. Pete didn't recognize the officer but had an idea who it might be; the division was expecting a transfer from Wilshire Division. If he remembered right, the guy's name was Orlando.
"Hello Ed." Pete received a grunt of acknowledgement, which was actually more than he had been expecting from Wells. Pete introduced himself to the newcomer and shook his hand. He seemed friendly enough. MacDonald had approached Pete about putting the transferring officer with Wells; the thought being that it might be an easier adjustment for Ed if they put him with someone who had no part in what happened. Rumor had it that Captain Moore gave Wells a strong lecture about keeping his opinions of Pete and what happened to himself.
He found Mac in the watch commander's office behind two large piles of papers. His old friend didn't look happy to be there, but he looked up when Pete entered and smiled.
"I heard the good news. Are you ready to hit the streets?" Mac moved some papers around on the desk, searching for something. When he stopped, he picked up a set of keys and held them out to Pete. "Here, take the wagon."
"What?" Pete's eyes narrowed as he watched the keys swinging before him. He wasn't about to take them from Mac without figuring out what he was up to. Why the station wagon?
"Take the keys already. My arm is getting tired." When Pete didn't take them, Mac tossed them to him; he caught them by reflex. "The wagon's all ready. You'll be 1L-70."
"Oh no, I'm not doing that. Just give me a regular L car and keep the wagon for yourself." All he wanted was an ordinary L car; a little peace and quiet to think things over but L-70 was a supervisor call number. He also hated driving station wagons.
"It's the Captain's order. I have a lot of work to do and there is no field sergeant on this watch. Someone has to do it." Mac wasn't sure Val was right about this; why push Pete when he would be passed over this time?
"Let Walters or Sanchez do it. They're the one most likely to make sergeant this year. They can use the experience." He sighed and put the keys on the desktop. "I already know the job, for all the good it's going to do me."
"I'm following orders Pete. Take the car and get out on the street." That said, Mac went back to his paperwork, ignoring the scowl on Pete's face.
"1L-70, Day Watch clear." It was a very unhappy policeman who, in a station wagon, pulled out of the lot. If Pete thought his day had taken a quick right turn and gone downhill, Ed felt even worse over in x-ray 45.
"Oh man, that's him? I can't believe he's on the same watch that I am. Wilber, my old partner told me all about Malloy." Ed knew it had to be Wilber Janney that Orlando was talking about. He had worked at Central before transferring to Wilshire and had ridden with Pete for a few months before he left. Ed's non-comital grunt went unnoticed.
"Where you there when got the Medal of Valor for hiding in a getaway car's trunk and saving the life of another officer? Man that took guts! Two against one." Wells couldn't decide if getting a partner who admired Pete was God's idea of just punishment or an example of Mac's warped sense of humor. It was probably a little of both.
"I was there." After that bank robbery the only person who didn't think he deserved the Medal of Valor was Malloy; that fact bothered Wells. If he had done that, he would be demanding to be awarded the Medal; sometimes, he really didn't understand Malloy. Ed felt no obligation to point out that Pete, along with Jim, was credited with saving the lives of the hostages in the bank too.
"Is it true that was the second time he won it?" Orlando's eyes were glowing; this was bordering on Hero worship. Wells wondered what Janney had told this kid.
They were approaching an intersection when a bright green Ford Pinto blew through a red light, causing several cars to slam on their brakes, including their unit. Wells was grateful for the distraction. After a brief chase, the car pulled over to the curb. Ed leaned against the front of the unit, letting Orlando handle the driver; he wanted to evaluate the younger cop's ability. It was a habit from his days as a Training Officer.
Orlando wrote up tickets for reckless driving and running a stop light, but when he handed it to the driver, the man refused to sign it. After several attempts by Orlando, Wells went over to help but even the threat of calling a supervisor and possible jail time didn't change the driver's mind. He was adamant and loud. Ed sent his partner to call for a supervisor; Orlando came back and told Ed that L 70 was responding. Odd, that wasn't one of the usual designated numbers used at Central.
Ed was glad that Mac had arrived to deal with this very annoying young driver. It was lucky that Orlando was already walking towards the station wagon; he was far enough away to not hear Ed quietly swearing. Malloy was the last person he expected or wanted to get out of that car. Out of uniform Pete had what was referred to as "an air of relaxed authority"; in uniform, he tended to be intimidating to those who didn't know him well.
Pete waved Ed back and took over dealing with the driver. Due to the fact that Pete was about four inches taller than him, the driver was forced to look up in order to meet Pete's eyes. He explained to the young man that signing the ticket wasn't an admission of guilt and told him that he would be arrested if he didn't comply.
"You won't arrest me, man. Stop jiving me." It was said with all the confidence of youth. Pete chuckled a moment and then told the driver to assume the position; hands on his car, feet back and spread. "No way cop." If he thought he could out stubborn Pete he was dead wrong.
"Do it now or I will do it for you." Pete's tone was so cold and his glare so threatening that Orlando had to fight the urge to assume the position. The driver quickly did as instructed. Pete was halfway through the Miranda warning when the kid interrupted; agreeing the sign the ticket. As he passed 45, Pete handed the ticket book back to Orlando, who thanked him for his help.
Ed was pulling away from the curb when he heard Orlando start up again.
"Did you see that kid's eyes bug out? Man…." Ed wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel.
A/N: While not stated in the episode, which ends shortly after Jim's rescue, Pete's actions in "Trouble in the Bank" do meet the criteria for being awarded the Medal of Valor. MacDonald makes sure that Pete knows he would be putting his own life on the line and he does it anyway. He made a conscious decision to face down two bank robbers, knowing it was going to end up in a shootout. It could easily have ended up with both Jim and Pete dead. That is why I chose to put it into this chapter.
