Recovery
Chapter 12
Journal of John Nolan
Professor Ryan was on a mission when she came to Mid-Wilshire this morning. She examined the racks of body cams as if she expected to find – I don't know what she expected to find. She selected ten of them at random and asked me for a place where she could watch the video. She also asked me to stay with her to answer questions while she did. Since Bradford told me to assist her in any way I could, I sat there while she stared at the screen of her laptop.
Most of the footage was pretty boring stuff, especially a camera that belonged to Wrigley. She saw images of a lot of driver's-side doors. He must have written at least 20 traffic tickets. But she noticed some missing time on Smitty's cam and asked me why he'd turn it off.
I can't read other cops' minds, and if I could, I wouldn't pick Smitty's. I suggested that he might have turned it off to relieve himself, but she pointed out that going to a restroom doesn't take that long unless someone is ill. And the rest of the footage didn't show any indications that Smitty wasn't well. When I thought about it later, I noticed that Smitty turned off his feed as he was approaching a bar where the bartender is infamous for making book. Should I tell Professor Ryan? I don't know. I'd only be guessing, and guessing isn't evidence. Still, laying down bets is bad enough and illegal. But doing it in uniform would be a lot worse. Ryan won't let the gap go. She'll investigate on her own. I need to talk to someone.
Professor Ryan was at the division for most of the day, which meant I was with her. Harper and West brought in a purse snatcher toward the end of the shift. Ryan wanted to ask both of them questions. They seemed a little wary, especially Harper. I suppose I've already gotten her in enough trouble.
At least the stack of paperwork at the end of the day went to West, not me. That gave me a little time to get ready for a date with Tamar. Not that it took much beyond a shower. We're pretty easy with each other now. We can share a pizza or some nachos or something. It doesn't matter. We enjoy being together. It's the only time I can actually relax – and probably will be until I'm off probation. Even then, I'll have to juggle work and school. But it will be worth it. At least I hope that it will.
"As we expected, the city is seeing a rise in anti-police protests," Tim announces. "Two took place yesterday, fortunately with no incidents or injuries. A survey of social media predicts at least three more for today. West, you'll be with Harper again today, intervening in any situation that needs cooling down. Nolan, as you probably know, Professor Ryan will be returning to continue her investigation. You'll be assisting her again.
"Except for Nolan, you'll all be on your regular patrols again today, but don't get too comfortable. One protest group has secured a permit to demonstrate in Griffith Park. If there's a counter-protest, it could get out of hand very fast. Be ready to respond, but with countermeasures that won't be all over the news. That's all. Get out there. Be aware and stay safe."
Bradford stops Smitty as he's leaving the roll call room. "I need to talk to you."
"I need to hit the john," Smitty protests.
"You'll need it more after you hear what I have to say," Bradford tells him, leading the way to the office he's occupying. Tim closes the door behind him. "Look, Ryan found gaps in your body cam footage. She's investigating them. She saw you approaching Lafferty's Bar and Grill. Ryan doesn't know what goes down in that place, but Nolan does, and he came to me this morning. Were you putting down bets?"
"Ten bucks here and there sometimes," Smitty admits. "No big deal."
"Gambling, particularly using a bookie while you're on the job, is a big deal, especially now," Tim admonishes him. "The department's under a microscope. You know that."
"So what am I supposed to do?" Smitty demands.
"Go to Internal Affairs and admit it," Tim advises. "You might get a letter of reprimand, but you'll be able to keep your job like Nolan did. But if Ryan exposes you before you confess on your own, you could be out, no pension, no benefits, no anything. Take care of it, Smitty. Take care of it this morning while Ryan is doing her second round."
"All this new rules and regs stuff is bullsh*t!" Smitty protests.
"If you want to save your ass," Tim counsels, "do what I tell you. That's all. I need to get out there.
"Boot," Tim rebukes Lucy, "you're supposed to be keeping your eyes on the street. Why the hell do you keep looking at your phone?"
"I got a text from Emmett," she confides. "He dumped me. He didn't even say why, just that it isn't working out. I was hoping he'd explain."
"Well, he did go through hell trying to help you take down Stanton," Tim recalls. "And considering that so far, all Stanton's gotten is a slap on the wrist, Emmett could be feeling pretty disgusted with the L.A.P.D. Hell! About that bureaucracy, so am I."
"That doesn't mean he has to take it out on me," Lucy protests.
"Look, Chen, you can't let your love life interfere with being a cop," Tim advises. "Keep your head in the game, or you could get both of us killed."
"Do as I say, not as I do, Bradford?" Lucy taunts. "You threw everything you know about being a good cop out the window for Isabel. But I'll keep my mind on the job. Look, there's a woman on the sidewalk staring at us. She's waving."
"Pull over," Tim instructs.
Tim gets out of the car, followed by Lucy. "Can we help you, Ma'am?"
"I hope so, Officer. I just saw someone holding a can of spray paint. We work hard to keep our storefronts clean. Graffiti scares our customers away. They think they'll get attacked by gangs. Do you think you can find him?"
"What did he look like?" Lucy asks.
"He was wearing a hoodie. I couldn't see much, just the can," the woman admits. "But he can't be far away."
"We'll check it out," Tim promises, inclining his head back toward the shop.
Lucy's eyes scan the area before she takes her seat behind the wheel. "We can't waste much time looking for a tagger. It's only a misdemeanor."
"Just because you're driving doesn't mean you're giving the orders, Boot," Tim retorts. "Cruise the area. He might still be around."
"I need to talk to my boot," Harper announces to Ryan when she and West return to Mid-Wilshire to process an arrest.
Nolan raises an eyebrow. "What's going on?"
Harper motions John out into the hall. "There was a demonstration at the community policing center. A few of the protestors decided to storm it. The suspect West and I brought in led them. He was carrying a club, and he had pepper spray. I thought you should know that Tamar was there organizing an expansion of the nutrition program. He got her in the face with the pepper oil."
"Is she all right?" Nolan demands.
Harper lays a hand on John's arm. "The paramedics washed out her eyes and took her to the hospital. They said she'd be fine. But she's shaken up."
Nolan pounds his fist against the wall. "I should be there for her."
"Hold tight, Nolan," Harper urges. "I checked. Luna was at the hospital visiting Grey. Tamar's with her. You can call, but she'll be OK until you get off shift."
John pulls out his phone. "Thanks, Harper."
"No problem, Nolan."
