Violence by Timothy McDougall Read Free Book Online

the carpet.
    “Did anything unusual happen recently that would cause something of this nature?” Crotty continued mechanically.
    Anderson had to think but only for a moment, then he replied, “There were several men here today doing some landscaping that had to be asked to leave.”
    “Why were they asked to leave?”
    Anderson didn’t have time to answer.
    A uniformed policeman had stepped up to Detective Peterson and given him a verbal report. Peterson then quickly relayed the information to Crotty.
    “Area Four picked up three guys who fit the neighbor’s description in an LTD.” Peterson notified Crotty, out loud, clearly, not at all minding that Anderson could hear, too. It was good to let the apparent victim know justice may be served.
    “That’s what I told you! I saw three men!” The elderly neighbor chimed in excitedly, overhearing the news.
    “Sir, can I ask you to step over here…” An orange-vested detective commanded the elderly neighbor as he ushered him to an area out of earshot of Crotty and the others. This was partly done for reasons of compassion towards Anderson but it was more important to keep witnesses apart and not risk cross-contamination of what will eventually be their personal recollections of the events.
    “There was blood on one of the suspects and in the car.” Peterson continued. “And apparently there were some pills and alcohol found, too.”
    Anderson, while despondent to the extreme, still reacted expectantly to this news.

CHAPTER 6
             “T hey’ve all been Mirandized and they all want a lawyer.” Crotty informed Anderson. “They want to see a doctor, too, but that’s not going to happen right now. They know the drill. They’ve been around. They cooperate when they know they have to and clam up when it’s not going to do them any good.”
    Crotty was referring to Derek, Gabriel and Ruben’s refusal to take part in a custodial interrogation where suspects have been informed of their right to not make self-incriminatory statements along with having the right to legal counsel, but choose to waive those rights and be officially questioned.
    “It’d be a problem anyway, anything they say…” Crotty continued. “…considering how juiced-up and strung-out they are. We’re letting them sleep their buzz off.” Crotty thought this was important, too, letting Anderson know, if only in a cursory way, the difficulty it would be admitting into evidence any confession where the suspect is under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol and the likelihood in the future of defense attorneys asking for and winning a motion to suppress such a confession.
    Crotty was saying all this as he met Anderson who had just been processed through the police station’s Sally Port which is the area where officers can load and unload prisoners safely.
    Anderson had submitted to a “pat down,” a simple body search designed to search only for weapons. This occurred in the middle space between the exterior and interior doors before Anderson was allowed by a controller in Dispatch to pass through into the “Secure” area.
    Anderson, escorted by a patrol car to the stationhouse, had driven himself over in his Mercedes and parked it just outside the attached police garage. He couldn’t remember getting behind the wheel, or driving over for that matter but he didn’t want to be driven over in a patrol car and have to arrange later for his return. Anderson was on auto-pilot. But he was going to get through this. For Karen and Tristan. Period. Part of his military training had taught him to put his mind elsewhere in stressful situations, push away all other pedestrian concerns, and focus on the job at hand. That schooling was all that kept him from collapsing now.
    He and Crotty were heading now past the adjacent Dispatch Area towards the temporary holding cells in the detention section of the stationhouse. It smelled like chlorine disinfectant and wine vomit. A pasty and pimply