The Crusader Ch. 01

"Thanks Honey," he said. "That'll take care of Susan, now we need to take care of Rollie.

"Hey Rollie, are you reading that file or trying to memorize it?" Frank Wends asked. He was also a Detective working out of Precinct 16. "You been staring at it for better than 30 minutes."

"Not trying to memorize it Frank, just trying to get a feel for the perp from the incident reports." Rollie grinned at Frank. "It's called being a detective. Course you wouldn't know anything about that," Rollie teased.

"Well it don't take me 30 minutes to read an incident report," Frank defended himself. "Bunch of us are stopping at Riley's for a couple of beers. Come join us. I'll even buy the first round."

"Thanks, but I need to get home. Couple of projects I need to finish. See you tomorrow Frank. Don't drink too much now; your wife will have your hide if you go home blitzed."

Frank and two other detectives waved good bye and left the squad room.

"Damn that victim's picture sure brought back some memories," Rollie said in a soft voice. "I guess it's because she was beat up just like Susan."

Susan Chambers was buried three days after her death. As the grave side service began, Rollie put a picture of he and Susan sitting at a campfire on top of her coffin. Rollie had used a tripod and the time delay feature of the camera to get in the frame with his wife. It had been on one of their camping dates at the old quarry.

Pete Mallory stood next to Rollie during the service. Most the Precinct is here, Pete thought. If you ever planned to break the law in Precinct 16, now would be the time to do so. He looked at Rollie and was surprised that the young husband wasn't crying. His eyes were dry and Pete didn't see sadness in them. What he saw was rage.

After the service Rollie thanked everyone and turned to Pete. "I'm gonna take compassionate leave for a couple of weeks," Rollie said. "I need some time to myself."

"Take whatever time you need Rollie," Pete replied. "Give me a call if you need anything."

When Rollie got home he lay down on his bed and took a nap. He woke at 10 PM, ate a sandwich, and got dressed. He put on some old jeans and a sweat shirt. The weather had turned a little chilly so the bulky sweatshirt didn't look out of place and it hid his service weapon on his hip; a 9MM Berretta 92. Rollie got into his 10 year old beat up pickup and left his condo.

There was a section of his city that Rollie only saw while on duty. The area once known as the De Baliviere Strip was home to upscale restaurants, night clubs, gentlemen's clubs and even a speak easy during the 1920's. Now it was a rundown area with several flea bag hotels, sleazy bars, and flop houses. There were also several abandoned buildings; old row houses that no one had lived in for years, closed warehouses, and empty store fronts. It was an area that the police patrols were always two officers.

For the next week, every night, Rollie would frequent the bars, flop houses, and hotels. He was searching for anyone that could help him find Bradley Thomas. He knew that his fellow detectives, the uniformed patrol officers, and just about every cop in the 16th had looked for Thomas with no success. Rollie's plan was to do things a little differently.

The police have rules that must be followed during investigations. They could try to get individuals to give them information by using persuasion, bribery, or helping a person out of an existing problem; but there was a line that they couldn't cross. Rollie didn't plan to follow those rules and there wasn't a line he wouldn't cross to find Thomas.

Rollie asked around and found a guy that at least knew the name Bradley Thomas. After some persuasion, consisting of Rollie putting the barrel of his pistol in the informant's ear and cocking the weapon, he gave up his information. He said there was a man called Denny that hung out in a certain bar. He bragged and talked about being friends with Thomas and saw him every couple of days or so. Rollie let the hammer of his weapon down and put it away.

"If I find out you warned this Denny, I'll be back to see you again," Rollie threatened.

The eighth evening of his search he heard Denny talk about meeting a friend later to get high. Denny said Brad had given him the money to score Crystal Meth for the two of them. He said that Brad was on the down low because the cops were looking for him."

"Why are the cops after him?" The second drunk said.

"Brad raped and robbed a girl over at Central College a few months ago. He said if stayed low for another month or so the cops would have to close the case as unsolved and he could make his way out of the city."

Rollie paid closer attention when he heard "Central College". That was the school that Susan had gone to. He waited patiently and followed Denny when he left the bar. Rollie tailed the man to a rundown hotel. He watched Denny walk past the desk, down a long dark hallway to a room in the back.

Denny knocked on the door and entered the room. Rollie waited for two or three minutes and kicked in the door. Denny and Bradley Thomas were heating the Crystal Meth in a spoon so they could shoot up. Rollie's abrupt entrance caused them to drop the spoon and the drugs.

"You, Denny. Get the hell out of here," Rollie ordered as he pulled his weapon. "Don't look back, don't come back."

Denny nodded and left as fast as he could. Thomas started to follow him.

Rollie pointed his pistol at him. "Have a seat Bradley. We're going to have a little talk."

"Who are you and what do we have to talk about?" Thomas asked. Now he was shaking; both from fear and from the beginning of withdrawal symptoms. He needed a fix.

"We're going to talk about Susan Chambers," Rollie said. "You know, the woman you attacked and raped at Central College a while back."

"You a cop?"

"Yeah, I'm Detective Chambers. Susan was my wife."

Bradley's eyes got big and he started to sweat. "I ain't sayin nothin without a lawyer," Thomas vowed. "I know my rights; you gotta give me a lawyer. I ain't talkin until I got a lawyer."

"You ass. Do you think I care about your rights after what you did to my wife?" Rollie motioned for Thomas to sit back down. "Did you know you're HIV positive you piece of crap? You infected my wife and when she found out she killed herself."

Thomas went white when Rollie said that. He knew that he would be lucky to get out of that room alive. There was a large steak knife on the table in front of him that he and Denny had been using to divide the packet of Chrystal Meth. When Rollie turned his head, Thomas grabbed the knife and started toward Rollie.

"I hoped you'd do something like that," Rollie said as he turned back toward Thomas. He let Thomas take two or three steps and shot him. Rollie kept pulling the trigger until the slide locked open after all sixteen rounds in the Berretta had been fired.

"You won't rape any other woman," Rollie said. He used his cell phone to call 911. "This is Detective Chambers. I'm at the Conrad Hotel on 7th Street, room 135. Send a patrol car and an ambulance. There's been an officer involved shooting and a fatality so you better get a shooting team over here too. I'll be waiting in the lobby."

Rollie had to turn over his Berretta to the Inspector from the shooting team. The gun would be fired in the lab to match the bullet with the ones found in the shooting victim. It was normal operating procedure. Rollie was also told to report to the Internal Affairs Department the next morning.

As he walked into IAD, Peter Mallory met Rollie. "Don't get in front of this Pete," Rollie warned. "This could turn out bad and I don't want you to get involved."

"But Rollie, I can help," Pete protested.

"Please stay out of this. If IAD really wants me there's nothing you can do but get them down on you too." Rollie put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "It doesn't matter much what happens to me. Thomas won't rape and infect any more women and now I can sleep at night."

"Detective Chambers, I'm Inspector Adams. We've got a few questions for you."

Rollie nodded. "I thought you might Inspector. Go ahead."

"You're entitled to have a Union Rep or attorney present you know."

"Don't need either one," Rollie said. "It was a good shoot."

"I have to inform you that we'll be taping your this meeting." Rollie nodded his understanding. "Tell us what happened." Adams held up a folder. "I've read your report but I'd like to hear your statement. Reports are usually so dry and officious." Adams smiled to show he was a good guy.

"Like I wrote in the report, I got a tip from an informant that this Denny character had talked about knowing where Thomas was. I spotted him in a bar and followed him to the Conrad." Rollie pointed at his report. "Denny went to room 135 and knocked. While he was waiting I saw he had a large zip lock bag a third full of a white substance. He was a known Meth user. That gave me probable cause to enter the room."

"Would you like some coffee or something Rollie?" Adams asked. "Talking can be thirsty work."

Rollie shook his head and continued. "When I forced the door, I saw Denny and Bradley Thomas and identified myself as a police officer. Both men started moving. My attention was on Thomas as he had a warrant outstanding. I guess I lost track of Denny and he ran passed me and escaped. Maybe I will have some coffee if you don't mind."

He really didn't want coffee but he thought it would piss off Adams. He was right. Adams couldn't hide his displeasure at the interruption but he got the coffee for Rollie. He nodded for Rollie to continue.

"Where was I? Oh yeah. Denny ran out the door. Thomas picked up a large knife from the table and came at me. I warned him to stop but he kept coming. I was forced to shoot him. Then I call Emergency Services. You guys showed up and took my weapon and here I am."

Adams turned off the tape recorder and leaned back in his chair. "Just between us Rollie, was it really necessary to shoot Thomas? I mean the guy didn't weight 150 pounds."

"My intention was to arrest him," Rollie answered. "But he attacked me with a lethal weapon. I had no choice." Rollie's justification of his actions was straight out of how to write a police report.

"Okay, but was it necessary to shoot him 16 times?" Adams smiled and shook his head.

"Thomas was a Crystal Meth addict. You know as well as I do that most of them don't feel pain and are extremely strong. I hit Thomas twice and he kept coming. So I kept shooting until he went down. I didn't count my shots."

Adams nodded. "That's bullshit and you know it Rollie. But this interview is over. I'm clearing you and you can go back to work. But between you and me, I know you executed Thomas." Adams paused for several seconds. "If it had been my wife, I would have done the same thing."

Rollie nodded and stood to leave. As he got to the door Adams said, "You need to see a therapist or get some counseling Rollie. What happened to your wife would drive most men crazy. That's not official, just my suggestion. Good luck Detective Chambers.

Adams was a pretty good guy, Rollie thought still at his desk leafing through the report on the two rape victims. He could have made it a lot tougher on me. Course Pete was the one that came down hard on me. I can remember how mad he was at me when I came back to work.

Rollie returned to work the week after the Thomas shooting. He'd no sooner sat down at his desk when Pete Mallory called him into his office.

"Good morning Pete, it's good to see you and it's good to be back," Rollie said as he entered the office.

"That's Captain Mallory and this is official business Detective Chambers. Close the door and sit down."

"Yes sir Captain Mallory." Rollie sat down and looked at his friend. I've never seen him so mad, Rollie thought. His face is red and you can see that vein in his forehead throbbing. If he's not careful he'll have a stroke.

Mallory sat on the edge of his desk in front of Rollie. "Just what the hell were you thinking? Charging into that room like John Wayne. You should have waited for back up." Rollie started to respond and Mallory held up his hand.

"Don't give me any of that fairy tale that you wrote in your report. You could've been killed." Mallory took a deep breath and calmed down. "Rollie I know you're still hurting. But there are other people that care about you. I don't know why but I'm one of them."

"I'm sorry Captain Mallory."

"One Captain Mallory a week is enough," Pete replied.

"All I could think of was finding Thomas after the way Susan died." Rollie looked out the window for several seconds. "I guess I became a little obsessed."

"Okay, let's put that to rest now," Pete said. "But I'm going to order you to do something you won't like," he said with a grin. "You will attend counseling or see a therapist. You can come back to work but you will get some help or I'll suspend you."

"But Pete, I don't need....."

"No argument Rollie. I'm serious. You will see a Police Department approved therapist. Any questions?" Pete continued before Rollie could answer. "Good. That's all, get back to work." Pete motioned Rollie out of his office. "But I want to know who you're going to see by the middle of next week. That gives you ten days."

Three days later Rollie still hadn't looked for a therapist. It wasn't that he meant to disobey his Captains orders but he was in the middle of a GTA crime ring. Someone was systematically stealing very expensive cars. Rollie and Detective Frank Wends had a theory that it was one group. Frank and Rollie had agreed that the cars were being stolen, taken to a chop shop, and dismantled for the parts.

"You can get more for the parts than for the whole car," Frank lectured at a roll call one morning. He laughed and added, "This is one time that the sum of the parts is greater than the whole."

Rollie was the only one that laughed with Frank. Guess you had to be there, Rollie thought.

Frank and Rollie spent the day following up and developing leads. They were getting close to finding out who was behind the rash of auto thefts but didn't have anything solid yet.

On his way home after his shift, Rollie heard a radio call about a stolen car on his scanner. The car was in a high speed chase with a police cruiser. The stolen car, a new Camaro, had too much speed and horsepower for the patrol cars to keep up.

They're on Dillard, Rollie thought. That's two blocks in front of me. Dillard's a narrow two lane street with cars parked along the curbs on each side. Maybe I can get there and block the street. At least long enough for the patrol cars to catch up.

He gunned his old truck and it shot forward. His truck looked like a beater but underneath the beat up body was the heart of a race car. The old truck had a powerful V8 engine that had been modified to extract the last ounce of horsepower. Its transmission was something you normally found in NASCAR.

Rollie got to Dillard before the fleeing Camaro and parked his truck sideways completely blocking the street. He got out of his truck and stood behind the front end with his 9MM drawn.

The Camaro skidded to a halt only 20 feet from Rollie. The driver jumped out with a pistol in his hand and ran at Rollie firing his weapon. Rollie returned fire, hitting the man with his first three shots. The thief kept firing and kept coming at the man blocking his way. Rollie fired ten times before the man fell to the ground.

"Hell, not again," Rollie said softly. He knew he'd be before IAD once again.

Normal procedure was followed after the shooting. A shooting team questioned Rollie at the scene, they took his weapon, and he was instructed to report to IAD the next morning.

It was 8 AM when Rollie was called into Inspector Adams' office. "We've got to stop meeting like this," Adams said. "People are starting to talk."

He laughed at the shocked look on Rollie's face. "It's okay Rollie. This is just red tape. I have the shooting teams report, your report, and the reports from the patrol officers that were chasing the car. It was a justified shoot. You probably saved some citizen from being in the way and getting hurt." Looking down at a report Adams added, "It's no wonder that perp didn't stop when you shot him. He was so high on Crystal Meth that he could've flown without a plane."

Adams motioned to a chair and Rollie sat down. "You have anything to add to your report?" Rollie shook his head. "Okay consider this interview over. You're cleared to go back to work." Rollie nodded and stood to leave.

"Can I make a suggestion before you go?" Adams asked. Not waiting for Rollie's permission he said, "Get a different weapon. That issue 9MM just doesn't get the job done when you're up against crack heads, Crystal users, and some of the other garbage out there."

"The 9MM is police issue Inspector Adams," Rollie replied. "I thought we had to carry it or the .38 revolver."

"As much as I've seen you lately I think you can call me Steve," he said with a smile. And you do have to carry a police issued weapon if you're a patrolman. But as a Detective you can carry almost anything you can qualify with." Steve saw the confusion on Rollie's face.

"Damn administrative types," Steve said. "They give a youngster a Detectives badge and tell him to go out and solve cases but they don't give him a full orientation on his duties. They leave that up to the precinct Captains. They also don't advise you of your rights as a detective; one of which is to carry a weapon of your choice."

Adams reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his weapon. "This is what I carry. It's a Colt 1911 .45 and when you hit a man with it they go down and stay down. None of that crap like what happened with that car thief." He pulled the magazine and ejected the shell from the camber and handed the Colt to Rollie.

After a minute or so Adams took his weapon back, opened the slide, and slid a cartridge into the chamber. Then he replaced the mag. "Let's go down to the range in the basement and you can try it out."

A very large Sergeant met them at the door as they entered the indoor shooting range. He walked over and shook hands with Steve Adams, grinned, and asked, "Finally decide to come down and let me teach you how to shoot?"

"I shoot better blind folded than you do with your eyes open," Steve replied returning the Sergeant's grin. Turning to Rollie he said, "This Sergeant Jacob Tully. Former Master Gunnery Sergeant in the United States Marines. He retired from the Corp about four years ago. Tully this is Rollie Chambers."

"You're the guy that stopped that psycho car thief." Tully shook hands and added, "I read the report. You fired ten rounds and the only ones that didn't hit the perp were two that hit the door as he got out of the car firing at you. Good shooting."

Rollie looked at Tully as they shook hands. The Sergeant was the stereotypical retired Gunnery Sergeant. Tully was about 6' 3 with a barrel chest, a very erect posture and big arms and hands. His hair was salt and pepper; cut so short that his scalp showed through. Tully was a poster boy for former Marines; except for one detail. His right leg was missing below the knee.

Tully bent over to pick up a piece of paper on the floor and his pant leg rose showing his prosthetic leg. The Sergeant saw Rollie glance at his leg and grinned. Rollie tried not to stare but Tully was used to people looking at the metal and plastic device that replaced his lower leg. "Works damn near as good as the real one and it don't itch none," Tully said with a grin.