Chapter 10 #2
Nellie dropped his spoonful of oatmeal into his bowl. “Beau Lee?”
“Excuse me,” Beau Lee said. He sprung from the booth and headed toward the rear of the restaurant.
He rushed into the men’s bathroom, entered a stall, and vomited his breakfast into the toilet.
There were so many police reports he’d read in his line of work.
Plenty of them were disturbing, but this one had really gotten to him.
He couldn’t help but envision what Hollis had gone through—lying on the pavement, suffering and pleading for help.
It was an ancestral cry, a lament that spoke to the terror that had been enacted on Black bodies since their arrival in what would become the United States of America.
The unmitigated torment and persecution of Black people was one of the greatest atrocities carried out in history, and Beau Lee wondered, even with a Black president in the White House, if it would ever end.
He stepped out of the stall, rinsed his mouth clean with water, and looked himself over in the mirror.
His eyes were tired and sunken. He took a deep breath, adjusted his tie, left the bathroom, and returned to the table.
Finn was drinking coffee, and a hearty helping of corned-beef hash was plated in front of him.
“You okay, Counselor?” Finn asked.
Capes asked, “Yeah, boss, you good?”
“I’m okay. Something went down the wrong pipe is all,” Beau Lee said. “Now, about this report…”
“Welp, that report is a load of bullshit, that’s for sure…excuse my French,” Finn said. He shoved a forkful of hash into his mouth and chewed loudly. “I don’t know where to start,” he mumbled between chewing. “Whoever wrote it graduated from MSU.”
“MSU? I don’t follow.”
“The School of Make Shit Up.”
“How about the initial traffic stop?” Nellie said. “Start there.”
With Hollis still in a coma, the team began their hunt for the truth.
“All right. They didn’t run Hollis’s license plate because they claim it was illegible, but that’s not why they stopped him. Apparently, they observed him for half a mile on the highway swerving and crossing lanes without signaling.”
“So they thought he was drunk?” Beau Lee asked.
“They suspected intoxication. They weren’t sure if it was alcohol or narcotics.”
“Did they notify dispatch after pulling him over?”
“Not right away.” Finn wiped the grease from his mouth. “It wasn’t until Hollis was pulled out of his SUV that a call was made for backup.”
“I don’t see why they pulled him out,” Beau Lee said, still looking over the report. “Doesn’t sound like they followed procedure.”
“They’re citing mitigating circumstances.
Since they weren’t able to read the license plate, they couldn’t run it.
And they suspected the vehicle might’ve been used in the commission of an earlier crime.
By all accounts, they approached it as a high-risk traffic stop, which might’ve been the reason for extracting Hollis from the vehicle. ”
“All the more reason to call it in once they pulled him over, right?” Capes asked. “If they actually thought it was a high-risk stop…”
“Sure, if they were telling the truth, but they’re not,” Finn said.
“Even if Hollis were tired, which could’ve accounted for the swerving, he would’ve gotten a cup of joe before leaving Gunderson.
He’s done it plenty of times. As for the vehicle being suspected for the commission of a crime, I did some digging.
” Finn took a quick sip of coffee, washing down the hash.
“There was a string of warehouse robberies in the area a few weeks ago, but witnesses stated they’d seen a blue minivan leaving the scene, not a gray SUV. ”
“What about Hollis’s firearm? The report says it was discharged?” Beau Lee asked.
“More bullshit,” Finn said. “Hollis wouldn’t pull his weapon on other cops, and he damn sure wouldn’t have fired it.
Besides, he was on the ground and had no position of advantage.
It goes against training. Pulling that weapon and firing would’ve been the equivalent of putting the gun to his own head and squeezing the trigger. ”
“Yeah, sounds sketchy to me,” Capes said.
“If Hollis’s holster has double retention, which I’m pretty sure it does, it’s even harder to draw under distress. I mean, all of ’em weren’t just twiddling their thumbs. If they were actively trying to subdue him, they would’ve noticed the firearm right away.”
“Double retention?” Beau Lee asked. “How’s that work?”
Finn held his hand up in a U-shape and wiggled his thumb.
“See, most tactical holsters don’t allow a firearm just to come out smoothly.
A person’s thumb has to engage a release button, allowing it to be pulled out,” he said, demonstrating the movement.
“It’s what helps prevent an officer from being easily disarmed.
Now, from the position they claim Hollis was in, I can’t say getting that gun out would be impossible, but it damn sure wouldn’t have been easy. ”
“And the department’s going public with this report?” Beau Lee asked.
“Sounds like they might be making a statement this evening.”
Beau Lee noticed a group of patrons sitting in a booth at the far end of the restaurant. They had paused eating and were looking toward the TV above the counter. One of the servers was turning up the volume when Finn recognized Hollis’s vehicle on the screen.
“Oh hell,” Finn said. “It can’t be…”
Beau Lee squinted. It was hard to make out what was happening in the grainy footage. “What is it?”
“Somebody recorded Hollis’s traffic stop.”