The following morning, while the team was continuing to seek out their fugitive, Sgt. Banks had a

much dreaded appointment with members of the Internal Affairs Bureau.

Jimmy entered the front glass doors of the MPD headquarters building, swiped his access badge

to the elevator, and struck the key to floor five. Awaiting the ride up, he glanced into the metal

interior of the rising box and adjusted his tie in the reflection. As Jimmy cursed to himself from just

having to be there, he couldn’t help but feel eager to get it over with. Banks exited the elevator,

crossed by a security desk where sat a half sleeping guard, and walked to the end of a long

brown painted hallway to a set of chairs at the very end. As he sat down he smiled slightly to

himself, looking back in the direction that he just traveled from he thought of how much the floor

reminded him of an insane asylum.


Banks placed his hands up to his temples and began to firmly rub his aching head away, recalling

the day that brought him here.


It had been hot all week with temperatures nearing the hundreds for nearly three days. Sgt.

Banks, Han and Adams entered the tan brick apartment building and began climbing the steps to

the third floor. An informant had given them information the night before about a burglary suspect

that was residing in apartment 302. Banks reached the door first and began to knock.


Adams and Han were a few doors down the hallway talking to a nearby neighbor. In the

background, they could hear their Sergeant knock a few more times, and demand entry into the

apartment. No answer. What seemed like just a few seconds later, they heard a loud boom in

which they immediately recognized as a wooden door being kicked in. They both whipped around

in concert.


Banks was gone, the door was shattered, and a woman in the immediate distance was

screaming. Adams rushed in, attempting to help his teammate gain control of the situation. As the

detectives cleared through the small apartment to a back bedroom they saw that the burly

sergeant had a woman on the floor, face down and in handcuffs. Not their guy, not even close,

and the woman had no idea as to who they were looking for.


Gerri Miller was a third year student at American University in D.C. She had lived in the

apartment for over two years and had never heard of the man that the fugitive unit was seeking

out. The woman seemed horrified and was shaking the entire time during her interview with the

detectives. Before traveling to the nation’s capital, Gerri had spent her life in a small town just

outside Eugene Oregon.


Gerri had been interviewed and released with no further incident. After a few days back at school,

she started talking to a law student in her study group who began getting Gerri excited about her

civil liberties and how police in America get away with entirely too many rights violations. Next

thing you know, Ms. Miller is at Police Headquarters filing a complaint. The three page document

filed that day gave a range of violations to include breaking and entering, and assault. The

veteran sergeant would have to explain and answer for his actions.


“They will see you now, Sergeant.”


James Banks rose to his feet with all the pride his father had passed on to him, pulled his sport

jacket down from the back and entered the large conference room.


Five men with straight faces all watched intently while Banks entered. Each had on a sharply

crisp class A uniform, service ribbons on one side, shining silver shield on the other. Of the five,

three were actively writing notes on tablets as Jimmy came to a rest in front of the long board

room table.


Sergeant Banks was conducting his own internal dialogue. He openly despised people like this.

Guys who have not worked the field in years, and even when they did, most didn’t do the kind of

work he and his team did. The men who stood to judge him were not hunters, at least not of the

kind of animals he made a career chasing down. Despite that, Jimmy was a man of great pride,

and would not complain about anything he was about to receive.


Sam was running down the dimly lit hallway to get to the team office at the end of it. The walls

had always reminded her of an insane asylum. The walls were formed from pale yellow brick that

may, or may not have once been white and small cracks lining each side. There was a door here

and there, and a hanging exit sign that spouted sparks every so often. At the end of the hall way

was a pale blue door with a wanted poster of Osama Bin Laden scotch taped to the front. Just to

the left of the door was a small piece of paper taped to the wall that read MPD Warrant Squad.


Sam shot through the door holding a thick manila folder in her hand. Her breathing was

somewhat labored as she raised her voice for the entire room to hear.

“Need some bodies to help me out a sec. just got a tip on an old case.”

From the tops of the office cubicles, voices started to respond.

“I’m there, one minute.” Adams.

“Meet me in the parking lot.” Han


Han jumped into the passenger seat of Sam’s car with Adams pulling close behind them. They

pulled off in hast, heading toward their target.


“Sergeant James Banks, you are in attendance of this hearing to receive final disposition for

complaint number C06-264470.”

Another panel member spoke.

“Sergeant Banks, complaint C06-264470 contains the following: making forcible entry into

residence without just cause and absent any exigent circumstances, also excessive force, misuse

of force, and lastly, threatening, harassing and/ or obscene language.”


He couldn’t help but smirk to himself just a little.


“Subject is David Toney, black male, about 225lbs, between 5’8” and 5’9, warrant for felony

probation violation for weapons offense”. Sam

“Copy, I just called dispatcher, she’s holding us out, and sending a patrol unit to cover the rear.” Adams.

A few minutes later they arrived at 1720 Lang Place in North East Washington. From down the

street they could see the row home with red brick front and a small concrete porch extending from

the front door. They observed items scattered along the porch area, giving the appearance the

house was occupied by nomads.

A patrol unit turned onto the one-way street and slowly rolled in their direction. The officer

stopped next to their passenger window and rolled his window down as Han did the same. From

the drivers seat of the red, white, and blue cruiser, an gray haired veteran with a wide smile

greeted the man hunters.

“How we doing ladies?”

“Fuck off Frank, How long you been on now, 60 years!”

“Got rent to pay you fuckin fish head.”
Han and the patrolman exchanged some laughs at each other, before Tully finally asked for help

to cover the rear door of the house. The squad car began to pull toward the back alley while

Frank shouted a few more parting insults at Han.


The patrol car came to a silent rolling stop in the rear alley of the brick row home. Frank then

radioed to the team out front that he was in place.


Sam took the lead with Adams and Han stacked tightly behind her. As they began their approach

they noticed a dim light illuminating a back room. Adams halted the team and brought their

attention to a figure he saw through a small front room window.

“Sam, is this your guy?”

“Oh yeah, that’s him.”

Through the window Sam could see guy matching the picture she was carrying attached to a

felony arrest warrant. The male inside appeared to be sleeping under the dim glow of a floor

lamp. The team moved forward of the window, stepping in sync as one cohesive unit. They

arrived silently at the door, Sam checked the doorknob, and as luck had it, unlocked.


“To James Banks, Sergeant, Metropolitan Police Department, Washington, D.C. this council finds

the following: In the matter of illegal entry into a residence, excessive and misuse of force, the

council finds no grounds to sustain. In the matter of using obscene or harassing language, the

council sustains that complaint. Sergeant, would you like to proceed with discipline?”


“Yeah, go ahead.”


“This council will issue a three day suspension, as well a written reprimand in your personnel file.”


“Sergeant Banks you have a union right to file an appeal on the findings as well as the discipline

of this council. It is, however, important for you to know that you received a rather light

suspension mainly in part to the outstanding production that you and your unit has achieved, as

well as the fact that the assistant chief appreciates your dedication to service.”


“Understood.” Banks nodded, and then turned toward the exit. As he made his way out, he

yanked viciously at his neck tie making every attempt to relieve himself from its grasp. Jimmy

almost broke into a jog while traveling down the final hallway toward the back door. Banks cared

very little about what had just happened. He was glad the ordeal was over and that his urgency

was due entirely to his will to rejoin his team.


The three warrant officers entered with quickness and precision, clearing hallways and rooms in

route to where they had seen their target. As they entered into the final short hall, their target was

slowly coming into view and Adams began to make their presence known.


“Police, Police show me your hands!”

“Arrest warrant Mr. Toney, put your hands up!” Tully


The mans head shot up off the pillow, eyes wide under shoulder length dreadlocks, the covers

flew to the side and the large man wearing nothing but skivvies lunged for a half open window.


“Stop police, Stop right there!”


Sam dove toward the fleeing felon, and came up with nothing but air.

Adams reached out and grabbed the man by his left arm, while Han hurdled over Tully and

tackled the subject by his waist. The large, dark skin man struck down on the back of Han’s neck

beginning to yell at the top of his voice.


“Ain’t goin back to jail you fuckers!”

“Quit fighting and get on the fucking ground asshole!” Adams


Sam sprung to her feet just as Adams wheeled the man around by the arm where he came face

to face with Sam Tully’s department issued firearm.


“Shit bitch what the fuck.”
“Keep fighting fuck face, I’ll make sure you get a closed casket funeral.”

Adams yanked the mans arms tightly behind his back, the distinct sound of handcuffs clicking

sending an uncontested message that David Toney was in fact going back to jail.


Sergeant Banks jumped into his car and proceeded to throw his tie into the passenger seat. He

reached down to turn on his police radio just in time to hear Sam Tully talking to the emergency

dispatcher.

“Tengo unit to dispatcher, in reference to Lang Place we have one in custody, thank the unit out

back for his assistance.”

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.09.2009

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