Chapter Seventeen – Pack Rules #2
“This is an administrative interview regarding Internal Affairs File 25-117B,” he begins.
“Incident type: off-duty use of force. Date: Monday, May 12th, 2025. Time: 0904 hours. Location: Great Sky PD. Present are Lieutenant Matthew Borgianni, IA; Sergeant Arthur Wilsbone, patrol supervisor; Officer Daniel Fontes, witness; and Officers Kory, Jayson, and Shane Larsen, subject officers.”
His gaze lifts. “You are being interviewed in relation to an off-duty incident that occurred on Sunday, May 11th, involving a physical altercation between Officer Jay Larsen and civilian Luc Knolson, which resulted in injury and hospitalization. This is an internal administrative review, not a criminal proceeding. That said, you are ordered to answer truthfully. Failure to comply may result in disciplinary action, including termination.”
He pauses. “Under the Garrity rule, your statements may not be used against you in a criminal prosecution, but may be used internally. Do you understand and agree to proceed?”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
Borgianni nods and turns to Jay. “Walk us through the incident, starting from the civilian’s arrival at your residence.”
“The subject came with a guest. He was uninvited. He smelled of cocaine,” Jay says.
Borgianni raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word.
“We didn’t engage,” Jay continues. “We stayed in the backyard and kept our distance.”
“What happens next?”
“The subject drank excessively. Got loud. Then he started making sexually explicit comments about our mate. Inappropriate and escalating. Eventually, the guest who brought him tried to remove him.”
“Did you threaten the subject?”
“No.”
“Any physical intimidation?”
“No, sir.”
“Then explain the strike.”
Jay keeps his tone steady. “He came back on his own. Came stumbling toward our mate. I perceived a direct threat to her safety, so I stepped forward and used one controlled strike. Closed fist.”
“You’re saying this was a controlled strike?”
“Yes.”
“You do understand,” Borgianni says, his voice sharpening, “that the civilian suffered a concussion and two facial fractures. He was unconscious on scene. You expect us to believe you weren’t trying to incapacitate him?”
“Yes, sir,” Jay answers calmly. “If I’d wanted to incapacitate him, his skull would be fractured, and he’d be in a coma.”
A flicker crosses Borgianni’s face. Jay’s words are dangerous. A reminder of what we could do if we stopped holding back.
But Borgianni lets it pass. Composes himself again. “Was the subject armed?”
“Not visibly.”
“Did you check?”
“No.”
He flips a page. “Did you render aid?”
Wait. That’s it? No baited questions? No twisting our words to make us sound feral for the record ?
“Our mate is a doctor,” Jay replies. “She called EMS.”
Borgianni turns to Fontes. “You verified the subject was intoxicated and verbally escalating?”
“Yes.”
“You supported Officer Jay’s decision at the scene?”
“I did.”
I think I can’t be more surprised until Sergeant Wilsbone speaks. “Not ideal,” he says, looking directly at me. “But justified. The subject posed a threat and returned to private property after being removed. The officers didn’t pursue. He came to them.”
I blink. Did he just say justified?
“As of now, Luc Knolson has not filed a formal complaint,” Borgianni says.
“That may change depending on his recovery and legal representation. A Use of Force report has been submitted and will be reviewed by Command Staff and Legal Affairs. Interview concluded at 0918 hours. IA File 25-117B. Review pending.”
He clicks the recorder, and that’s it. No suspension. No reprimand. No threats.
They let us walk out.
I can’t even label what I’m feeling. Relief? Confusion? Suspicion? Disbelief?
The rest of the day drifts by like I’m sleepwalking. The only thing that cuts through the fog is the fact that Jo doesn’t text.
She’s usually busy, sure, but she always finds a way to reach out. Always. Until today.
When we get home, she’s already there. I can smell her from the garage, lilies and lemon on my tongue. When we step inside, she’s lying on the couch with the TV on, but her eyes are fixed on the ceiling. She doesn’t move.
Jay steps toward her slowly. “Jo…”
“I got the full report,” she says, cutting him off. “One of the ER nurses sent it over.”
None of us speaks. We wait.
She finally looks at us, but her eyes are different. Tired. Detached. “Luc has a concussion. Pretty bad one. Fractured zygomatic arch. Nasal fracture. Imaging didn’t show any brain bleeding, which is good. But he was out long enough to need observation.”
I swallow hard. “Is he still unconscious?”
“No, he came to this morning. Disoriented. Combative. They had to sedate him to keep him from ripping out his IV.”
Jay exhales through his nose.
Jo watches him. “I told Kacy about the drugs, but she already knew. When they cut his clothes off in triage, they found a baggie in his jeans. The ER staff logged it, security called it in, and the cops have it now. It wasn’t just that, though; his bloodwork showed a BAC of 0.
22, and the tox screen came back positive for cocaine. ”
“She wants him to press charges,” she adds. “Says she’ll testify on his behalf.”
I nod. “At least they found the drug and ran the tox screen. It’s on record, so he can’t deny he was high and drunk as hell.”
“Yeah,” she says, voice dry. “But it doesn’t change how everyone sees it.”
“And how do they see it?” I ask.
She doesn’t hesitate. “A man in the hospital, and three aegis who put him there.”
Her voice isn’t angry, just cold. She leans her head back and closes her eyes. “I doubt he remembers much. He was too far gone. But I’m sure Kacy will fill him in.”
“I thought she was your friend,” I say.
Jo looks at me. “I thought a lot of people were my friends. But after I bonded with you, I stopped being Doctor Johnson and became a weird nyra who thinks she’s a doctor. And today I changed again. I became the crazy nyra who married three violent aegis.”
“I’m so sorry, Jo—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Dr. Lindstrom called me into his office this morning. Said he just wanted to ‘check in’ and warned me — verbatim — that men who are aggressive toward other men are statistically more likely to be aggressive toward women too.”
Shane’s voice is harsh. “Are you afraid of us, Jo?”
“Of course I’m not,” she snaps. Then, quieter: “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid to look my coworkers in the eye when I know they’re thinking that I’m not just sleeping with three men, but that I accept being knocked around by them too.”
My voice drops. “I’m sorry, Jo. I really am. But that’s what they were already thinking from the beginning. They just didn’t have the guts to say it out loud before.”
She stands up, and then she’s gone, heading upstairs, leaving us alone in the living room, surrounded by silence.
We give her space again.
Later, when Jay goes up to check on her and see if she wants to eat, she’s already asleep.