out, yes—because I’d drawn it moments earlier. Me and my fellow officers had just moved on the suspect and his accomplices after observing them selling narcotics in an abandoned lot off Touro Street. When Grant ran, I chose not to waste even one second re-holstering my weapon. I also knew I might have to use it, too.”
Major Katz’s eyes grow perceptibly wider. “So you admit you were predisposed to firing your sidearm that night?”
I grit my teeth. I’m starting to lose my patience with these grandstanders.
“I admit I did my homework. Grant was a Franklin Avenue enforcer. Known to be armed and dangerous—which, as seems to have gotten lost in today’s hearing, he was.”
Bossett interjects, “Yes, about that handgun allegedly recovered at the scene…”
Allegedly? No way. He’s not about to suggest I planted it, is he?
“A number of witnesses have come forward to say they saw you placing the weapon near the suspect following the shooting,” he continues. “How do you respond?”
Okay, this is beyond ridiculous now. It’s downright insulting. And another thought about my future is starting to demand attention.
“With respect, sir, that’s absurd,” I reply, working to keep my voice calm and level. “Those witnesses are all fellow gang members. And not one has offered a single photo or frame of video to back that story up.”
I feel myself picking up steam so I keep going with it.
“And let’s talk about the weapon itself for a minute,” my voice rising. “Earlier I’d learned from an informant that Grant was rumored to pack a golden, personalized piece. It’s in my field paperwork from two days before the shooting. And that’s exactly what was recovered at the scene: a gold-plated 9mm Heckler & Koch, engraved with the letters L-C-G. The gun he pulled on me before I fired two shots of my own.”
I’m right at the brink of losing my cool and I know I should back down, but I can’t help myself. This isn’t a hearing. It’s a ceremony of a human sacrifice, a good cop being put down to ease the anger of others.
“Is this committee really suggesting that forty-eight hours earlier, I somehow tracked down a golden handgun, engraved Larry Grant’s initials into it, then jammed it into his dead hand without one single bystander taking out their phone to film it…all to justify my shooting some random drug dealer I’d never even met before?”
I let that question hang in the air for a moment. Then I make my final statement.
“I want all of you to think about that,” I say. “Then I want you to consider my fourteen-year record. Then consider who I am. What I do in my off time. And ask yourselves, if I was just another average cop, would any of this charade be happening?”
My little monologue leaves me practically winded but also leaves Bossett and the other committee members briefly speechless. They lean in and whisper among themselves for a few seconds. Then the deputy superintendent clears his throat. I think I even detect a bit of contrition in his voice as he says, “Detective Rooney, this board has no further questions.”
I get out of my chair, wanting to feel triumphant, but only feeling relief it’s over.
Chapter 5
I WALK out of the hearing room about two inches taller than I walked in as Ty leaps to his feet and shouts, “Shit, Rooney, you’re good as dead!”
I try to ignore the commotion that breaks out as I exit, Bossett struggling to maintain order, raising his voice. I also ignore the subtle offer of a fist bump from that smirking young officer posted at the door.
Look, a man is dead. Passions are running high on both sides of the blue line. And the press is having a field day because I happen to love food as well as justice. I get all that. I do. But none of that is any excuse for the way my department has treated me. Which I think—I hope—I just made clear in there.
I’m confident the review board will rule my use of force was justified. Until they release their final recommendation, however, letting me get my gun and badge back, technically I’m still on administrative leave.
But even with the hearing over, there’s one more thing I have to do. To my surprise, the decision came to me as I was walking out of that chamber, leaving behind the shouts, curses, and insults.
As I walk through the building’s central ground-floor hallway toward the elevators, I exchange greetings with the