Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Eric rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “Have a minute?”
Sergeant Medina was set up at his desk behind a pile of paperwork, pen in hand. “Why not?” He waved Eric into the room, and he closed the door behind him.
Medina set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “It’s going to be one of those conversations, I see.”
“Sorry to say that it is.”
“There’s something to that old accident case?”
That’s an understatement… “You could say that.”
“Just hit me with it, Birch.”
“There was some sort of cover-up. I mean, there must have been.”
“Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think.”
“I’ll tell you what my investigation has revealed.” Eric told him about everything—the missing documentation, photographs, even how Crawford’s car bypassed the MPD impound lot and examination and was destroyed the same day as the crash.
Medina grimaced. “Whose names are attached to the file?”
“Dean Finley, sergeant at the time but currently retired, and Todd Levine, the first responding officer.”
“As in the current Sergeant Levine from the Uniform Patrol Division?”
And my former training officer and mentor… “That’s right.”
Medina perched an elbow on the arm of his chair, rubbed his jaw. “Shit.”
“Yeah, and I’d never point at a fellow cop unless—”
“Eric, you can save the speech. I know you. So the requestion for the auto wreckers was signed off by Finley?”
“Yes. I had a chat with him about it. Of course, he’s denying it’s his.”
“Hold up. Before running all this past me, you spoke with Finley? You don’t go after a fellow cop, retired or not, unless you have a solid case.”
“I feel I pretty much do.”
“Then we’re of two different opinions. Does it look incriminating? Sure, but it’s not solid proof of wrongdoing. Not yet. Tell me, how did Finley respond?”
“Accommodating at first, though his responses felt rehearsed, as if he was prepared for it if this day ever came around. By the end, he asked me to leave.”
“You were obviously making him uncomfortable with your questions. Did you talk to Levine too?”
“Before Finley, before the visit to the auto wreckers.”
“So, just lay it right out for me, Birch. Simple terms. What do you think they did exactly?”
“I believe Susan Crawford was targeted by Timothy Hanson. Instead of having it be an execution that would flag, he had it made to look like an accident. Then he paid off Finley and Levine to get rid of any evidence that would suggest otherwise and to bury the investigation.”
“I see. Well, if they’re guilty of covering up a murder, both men stand to lose everything. Not only will they face criminal charges, but they’d forfeit their pensions too.”
“Yep.” There were no forfeiture laws in DC that protected a cop’s pension if they were found guilty of a felony or misconduct during their time in service.
“Tell me about Levine’s take on all of this.”
Eric would have liked to avoid going there but understood that wasn’t ethical. “I feel he’s hiding something.” He left out mention of Levine’s threat.
“Wow. Okay, this isn’t good at all.”
“Nope, but there’s more. As I told you, the photos from the accident scene are missing, but what I hadn’t told you was the photographer from the Major Crash Investigation Unit died within days of Crawford’s crash.
” Eric’s statement sat out there for several seconds.
Again he trusted that Medina would piece together what he was thinking.
“You’re speculating that he didn’t want to cooperate and was taken out.”
Eric remained silent, knowing that would answer for him.
“Again, shit. So it’s possible two murders rest on these officers’ shoulders. You’ve got to make sure you have everything in order before you talk to Levine or Finley again. And you run it by me first. Am I understood?”
“Understood. But that’s part of the problem. Getting things in order is rather difficult when the reports and photographs are missing.”
“The exact reason you never should have spoken with Finley and Levine yet. You need to build your case first.”
“I get it. I really do. It’s just this woman deserves justice, Sarge, her son too. Just where do I turn when the evidence is long gone?” Eric had respect for cold-case detectives who closed investigations after years of them being locked away in a drawer. Now he was facing that challenge.
Medina leaned forward, both elbows on his desk as he clasped his hands. “I’d say treat it like any new case that hits your desk.”
Had he missed the part about it being from thirty-three years ago? Though, his sergeant had a point. “That’s closer to the truth than it should be. The accident never really was investigated.”
“There you go.”
Eric struggled for a few seconds to process how to integrate Medina’s suggestion.
Some cases came with little to no evidence right from the beginning.
But an investigating detective could only start with what they had.
Eric might not have evidence he could put his hands on, but not every fresh murder case did.
He’d start by trying to piece together the victim’s last movements and revisiting eyewitnesses. “Expert advice, Sarge. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Shut the door on your way out.”
“Will do.”
Medina’s nose was already back in his paperwork by the time Eric hit the hallway. Eric’s phone rang, and Coleman was on his caller ID.