Recovery
Chapter 34
The Journal of John Nolan
Having Grey designate Lucy and me as a mental health intervention team surprised the heck out of me. Ever since I arrived at Mid-Wilshire, Grey's made it his mission in life to make me look as bad as possible. I suspect it hurt his soul to announce that I had the highest test score on our rookie evaluation test. But, on the other hand, he may not have had much choice about the team-up. He knew that Lucy and I work well together, and the program could have faced questionable success if he stuck her with someone else.
Whatever Grey's reasoning, it's been an interesting first day. Lucy and I were patrolling the area around the center. We had to bust a guy for tagging. It was unfortunate. He's an impressive artist. Still, he was committing vandalism. Hopefully, the judge will just give him community service cleaning graffiti off walls. That's what I'd do if I were on the bench. But since I didn't even graduate with my pre-law degree, what do I know? I did what I could and asked the would-be Banksy to contribute to the mural planned for a downtown festival. If he participates, he can gain some notice without breaking the law.
Lucy and I were trying to figure out other opportunities for budding street artists when we were called to the Hollywood Division. We didn't have far to go. Hollywood and Mid-Wilshire border on each other. What's strange is that we cover Hollywood Boulevard. You'd think it would be in their territory. But apparently, there's some L.A.P.D. history relating to why the jurisdictions are divvied up the way they are. The story is probably apocryphal, but I heard it had something to do with an 1869 horse race. And to say that bureaucrats have been slow to change it would be an understatement.
Anyway, when Lucy and I arrived, we found a guy strutting up and down Melrose Ave. near the Paramount Studios' gate wearing nothing but a tophat and a smile. She coaxed him into explaining that he was understudying Sam Waterston as Abraham Lincoln and was waiting for the costume mistress to lengthen his pants. Lucy told him that Sam Waterston was also up for a role as a doctor. That convinced him to go to the hospital with us without protesting. At least we didn't have to arrest him. But even if we hadn't been there, I doubt that the most trigger-happy cop would have pulled a gun.
The next incident was more serious. We were called to a group home for men with developmental disabilities. One of the clients, Cameron, was new that day and had been an emergency transfer when the facility he was living in flooded. According to the house manager, a staff member had just adjusted the thermostat a few degrees in the heat of the day. Cameron went ballistic and started shouting, "No 70! Call Millie Ramden!" over and over. He grew even more agitated, finally grabbing a scissor. That's when the house manager moved everyone away from Cameron and called the police. The cop in a shop that arrived ahead of ours wanted to taze Cameron, take him to the hospital, and be done with it.
Lucy told him no way unless there was no alternative. So she got Cameron's case manager on the phone and got a look at Cameron's behavior program. The home should not only have received a copy but signed off on agreeing to follow it.
Sure enough, the plan said that Cameron was obsessive about the temperature. Staff was not to touch the thermostat without telling him ahead and explaining why. He was also supposed to have access to a phone at all times so he could call his mother, Millie Ramden, who could talk him down when he was upset. Unfortunately, the landline at the group home was behind a locked door, and no one offered him a cell. And he had a history of grabbing scissors to cut the cords on devices that broke. He'd never hurt himself or anyone else with them, but the scissors, not the telephone, were what should have been locked away or at least kept out of sight.
Lucy handed Cameron her personal cell phone to call his mother. He punched in the number almost too fast to follow. A few minutes later, the thermostat was back where it had been initially set, and Cameron was watching Thundercat reruns on cable T.V. Lucy checked back with Cameron's case manager, who was already on her way, as was Millie Ramden. When we left, they were both there. No one was hurt, and everything was calm.
The hell of it was that the whole thing could have been prevented if someone at the group home had just read the freaking manual. In 20 years on construction jobs, I've seen plenty of accidents caused by the same damn thing. I just never expected the problem to be as universal.
"All right, settle down," Grey shouts, smacking his palm against the roll call room's podium. "I know you're frustrated. So am I. The situation bites. But this isn't the first time any of us has seen an offender walk on a technicality."
"But not hundreds of offenders," a veteran cop protests from the back of the room.
Grey sighs. "I understand. But we knew this was coming when the investigations into Del Monte's prosecutions started. Still, a lot of the released prisoners have already served considerable time. They know what prison is like and won't be anxious to go back."
Lucy raises her hand. "Sir, many of the incarcerated have undiagnosed learning and cognitive disabilities that prevent them from holding jobs. In many cases, that's what landed them behind bars in the first place. Del Monte preyed on them with unjustified upcharges. That's why they're being released now. But even under normal conditions, the system can't provide the supports they need to stay out of jail. This massive influx will completely overwhelm the agencies that try to keep released convicts from going back. If we arrest them, we'll just be repeating the cycle."
Grey palms his face. "Chen, if you can come up with a solution to that, you're way ahead of me. But if you want to take it to the commission addressing alternative procedures, knock yourself out. And the department expects your intervention team to minimize unnecessary arrests, including those of the cons fresh out."
"That's all, huh?" John mutters, shaking his head.
"Did you have something to say, Officer Nolan?" Grey demands.
"No, Sir."
"Good. Then we'll all be doing our jobs the best we can."
"Isn't Rachel on that commission?" John asks Lucy as they gather their gear.
"Yes, she is. What about it?"
"Maybe Grey is right, and we should talk to her. I don't have class tonight. Maybe we could sit down with her together."
Lucy's shoulders tighten. "I don't think so."
"Why? Do you have a date or something?"
"No date. Look, John, Rachel's been working with the commission remotely. She hasn't been seeing anyone except Tim, her family, and me."
John blocks Lucy's path to the garage. "I don't understand. Rachel's in hiding, and Bradford's even more stonefaced than usual. What's going on, Lucy?"
"I can't explain without Rachel's permission. But I can talk to her by myself. I'll let you know what she says. Now we need to get going. Today could be hell out there."
John steps out of Lucy's way. "You've got that right."
