My first foot post was in east Harlem. I've got twenty-seven years on the job. I've shot people, but I've never killed no one. I leave the city for one day, two bodies.
Tell me why! I don't know the details, but I know the upshot. I just don't know why. Why would you do that? You're a cop, Jane. We arrest the guilty. We don't decide what's next, and frankly we shouldn't be allowed to.
Dead guy is Simon Kesch, a self styled diamond dealer to the stars. One shot to the back of the head, pretty much execution style. We got a pedigree on witnesses?
Uniforms did. We've got three of them: Fiona Davie, Ira Schekler, and Anton Lincoln, and the thing is, all three of them got a pretty good look at the guy. So we got lucky.
You know what? Eyewitnesses, even people who are trained for a living to notice things, are bad eyewitnesses when something happens that they're not expecting. It's human nature.
Now, I know you probably know this already, because you're a lawyer and everything; but whereas cops like us can ask you questions and you can lie your ass off to us and there's nothing we can do about it except solve the case, lying to a federal agent, just lying, about anything, about your middle name even, is a felony. And that's not even taking into account the other crimes you may have committed.
No, it doesn't. Anyway, so now Agent Biddle here is going to ask you the same exact questions that we just did, and I suggest that your answers are true or you're going to go to prison.
Did you know you could lose half a gallon of blood and your body will continue to mechanically function? My dad told me that once and that's what I kept telling myself over and over again. While I was shooting and getting shot at. I was scared, but that's what I was thinking. The craziest thing is, I kind of liked it. I liked the adrenaline rush I got from it, you know?
Don't pretend you don't know what I'm going to say here. Rackets are a place where cops let their hair down. It's not for spouses or significant others. It's for mistresses and pieces on the side, and if, God forbid, a cop brings their real life to one what do you, as a fellow cop, say to that person?
How bout this: how was your day? How are you doing? How are your kids? Is it hot enough out here for you? That's it! Right? No matter how much you know about the other cop, no matter how much you want to jam them up, there is a code! It's beyond a code; it's a religion.
There's like fifty nine millimeter casings lying on the ground, so most likely two guys shooting a Mac 10 each or one guy shooting two at the same time.
Yeah, you know what? I might feel bad for myself too, but then I would look at this poor dead guy lying on the ground and then I would go, wow. You know, things could be a lot, lot worse.
I mean, it has to be her? There are eligible women all over this city. He can find someone else to take out. Why should I have to find another friend?!
