Chapter 86
I MADE IT to the Public Safety Building in Mission Bay in record time. The six-story glass monstrosity near the baseball stadium didn’t hold a candle to the Hall of Justice. But it was very modern and sleek. The sort of stuff politicians loved wasting tax money on.
It doesn’t matter that we can’t hire enough cops to safely patrol the city, as long as we have a nice building for our administrators.
I wasn’t always so cynical, but I was feeling pretty salty this morning.
I rushed through the lobby to the women’s restroom. I figured I must look a little disheveled. Then I saw myself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe I’d gone out in public looking like this. My hair was a mess. I had Alain’s blood on the sleeves of my sweatshirt and on both of my shoes. Great.
I took off the sweatshirt, finger-combed my hair and dampened it a bit to keep it in place, and hoped no one looked down at my shoes when I walked into this meeting.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been involved in controversies that required me to be questioned by administrators.
But I’d never gone into a meeting looking like this.
After being involved in two shootings within two days, I’d been expecting this summons. Just not on such short notice.
I’d already called the appropriate coordinators and told them I’d be at the meeting on time.
I looked down at my watch and saw I had three minutes.
I knew the big conference room with a raised stage on the second floor.
As I came off the elevator, I saw my boss, Lieutenant Jackson Brady, sitting on a hard wooden bench in front of the room.
Unlike me, Brady looked well put together. He was dressed in a sharp suit and a tie that I was certain Yuki had picked out for him. He stood up as soon as he saw me. “You doing okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks for letting me sleep longer at the hospital. I needed it.”
He gave one of his usual grunts.
“I heard you declined to have a union rep with you. You shouldn’t go in there alone.”
I’d only declined because I knew there wouldn’t be time. Brady probably had realized that too. I spontaneously hugged the big oaf. I could tell by the look on his face he hadn’t expected it. It wasn’t particularly professional.
As we entered the cavernous, empty room together, the first thing I noticed was how cold it was. I was sorry I’d ditched my bloodstained sweatshirt and considered putting it back on.
There were chairs and a table set up facing a stage with its own, longer table and six chairs. The lights were down low. The whole place had sort of a funeral-home vibe.
As soon as Brady and I sat down, a door at the side of the stage opened and six people sauntered across the stage to take their seats.
Four of the people were police administrators and two were civilians.
I recognized the administrators from my department and the two civilians as a member of the Board of Supervisors and an appointee of the mayor’s.
This was my review board.
No one smiled or nodded hello as they took their seats. Having Jackson Brady next to me made this whole situation bearable. He wanted this over as quickly as I did. I suspected that he’d gotten less sleep than I had last night.
After a quick introduction and statements for the record, the deputy chief of Field Operations addressed me in a calm, professional tone. “Do you know why we’re gathered here, Sergeant Boxer?” He sounded like an FM radio announcer.
Even though I was exhausted, the question was a little confusing. They were the ones who’d called the meeting, not me. All I said was “Not exactly, sir.”
“All police shootings are reviewed by this board. We happened to be meeting today so we decided to talk to you immediately.”
I took a moment. I didn’t want to say anything rash. I said, “Not to be argumentative, sir, but this was not a police shooting. It was just a regular shooting. No police officers fired a shot.”
“But police were present, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s close enough. We have some specific and serious questions about the entire incident in the Tenderloin last night.”
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t say anything. There was an awkward silence. The committee looked at me and I looked at them.
“You invited a foreign national to come along on your investigation. Is that correct, Sergeant?” asked the commander of Risk Management.
Somehow she had an even smoother voice than the deputy chief of Field Operations.
I was starting to wonder if the only thing you needed to climb the ladder in the SFPD was a really good voice.
This could be trouble. I kept my reply brief. “Yes, ma’am. That’s correct.”
“Who was unarmed. Correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I was caught off guard when Jackson Brady spoke up. “Do you think we should have armed him? Is that what you’re saying?”
It was hard for me to conceal the smile that wanted to spread across my face.
Brady’s question went unanswered. Now it was an administrator from the Investigations Bureau who asked me, “You’re assigned to Homicide, aren’t you, Sergeant Boxer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you tell us why you were in an altercation with a low-level pimp in the Tenderloin while we have unsolved homicides across the city?”
This was too much for Brady. He stood up. “Cut that shit, Billy. Sergeant Boxer was there as part of an ongoing homicide investigation. She handled the incident last night perfectly. You know as well as I do that we can’t control other people’s actions. And there are a lot of handguns in the city.”
When everyone on the dais remained silent, I realized I was about to be cut loose. I wasn’t sure if I had any punishment coming my way.
Frankly, it was worth it to hear my boss beat up on administrators like this.