Pierce
First Post
"John, I've got to take you off this case."
John McInnis stood in front of the captain's desk with his eyes full of righteous rage. "Take me off this case?! TAKE ME OFF THIS CASE? I made this case!"
Captain Osbourne leaned back in his chair. Here we go again. It was the third time this month he'd had to dress McInnis down. The third time this month this little scene had played out. It was pretty much always the same. There were parts, in fact, that Osbourne had memorized like lines in a play. I wanted to be an actor. That's why I moved out here to L.A. in the first place. There was that girl - Rachel - who got me a bit part in Ironside. That's been - geez, has it been 20 years? I'm too old for this sh**. Osbourne focused back on McInnis.
"My grandfather worked with Eliot Ness! My great-grandfather stepped off the boat from Ireland and started working for the NYPD!"
Ah, he was into the "history" phase of the tantrum. That leads into the "why I work the way I do" part, followed by the "I can't teach these numbskulls around me how to be a cop" and finally the "you understand, Captain, you've been a cop for 20 years!" wrap-up. Yep, 20 years. I can retire with a full pension whenever I want now. But there always seems to be one more case to resolve. The Night Stalker trial was wrapping up and it looked pretty good. Of course it gets replaced in the stack by the Menendez murders. Something's not right about that one. Those brothers just have a weird look about them.
"I mean, Johnson just rides around in his car all day looking at prostitutes! And I'm the one getting called on the carpet?"
I see we're going with the "poor pity me" version of the "no one knows how to be a cop" bit. It wasn't that McInnis was a bad cop - on the contrary, he was an excellent cop. The problem was that he couldn't make a collar without serious property damage. It seemed like the worse the crime, the higher dollar value of what got blown up. Not to mention his "investigative tactics" he was so fond of. B&E didn't apply to McInnis, apparently. He hated to have to put another write-up in his folder - hell, McInnis would probably be sitting in my chair if it weren't for the write-ups - but the mayor's office was breathing down his neck for some accountability.
"...you've been a cop for 20 years, Chief!" Ah, there's my cue.
"John, I know you're a good cop. We all saw the 500 kilos of drugs you brought in yesterday. We've got three dealers in custody and six more in the morgue. And off the record, we're all damn proud of the job you're doing. But g**dammit John, if you keep blowing up civilian's cars the city's not going to be able to afford insurance anymore! You know what that means? It means we get stuck WALKING everywhere! You don't want to be busted down to beat cop? You keep it up and we'll ALL be beat cops g**dammit!
"Now you listen up and you listen good: the takedown yesterday was good, but it didn't get the guys who're bringing this stuff in. There's opium all over the g**damn streets of this city and the press is really p*ssing off the mayor's office. You know what the jokers down at the Times have named this sh*t? POO! Stands for Purified Optimized Opium! That's their headline: Streets filled with POO! G**dammit, it makes a mockery of the force! You've got 48 hours to get this case wrapped up or it's your ass, you hear me McInnis!
McInnis knew his part as well as the Captain. He had started out of the office at the last sentence, opened the door so everyone in the squad room could hear "...or it's your ass" and slammed it shut behind him. Every blue suit in the room was quietly working, but all attention was on McInnis. He stood seething for the count of five, then turned and started for his desk. Halfway to it, he heard the captain's door open again.
"Get back to work people! I don't pay you to sit on your ass! Shirley, bring me a coffee and danish."
John McInnis stood in front of the captain's desk with his eyes full of righteous rage. "Take me off this case?! TAKE ME OFF THIS CASE? I made this case!"
Captain Osbourne leaned back in his chair. Here we go again. It was the third time this month he'd had to dress McInnis down. The third time this month this little scene had played out. It was pretty much always the same. There were parts, in fact, that Osbourne had memorized like lines in a play. I wanted to be an actor. That's why I moved out here to L.A. in the first place. There was that girl - Rachel - who got me a bit part in Ironside. That's been - geez, has it been 20 years? I'm too old for this sh**. Osbourne focused back on McInnis.
"My grandfather worked with Eliot Ness! My great-grandfather stepped off the boat from Ireland and started working for the NYPD!"
Ah, he was into the "history" phase of the tantrum. That leads into the "why I work the way I do" part, followed by the "I can't teach these numbskulls around me how to be a cop" and finally the "you understand, Captain, you've been a cop for 20 years!" wrap-up. Yep, 20 years. I can retire with a full pension whenever I want now. But there always seems to be one more case to resolve. The Night Stalker trial was wrapping up and it looked pretty good. Of course it gets replaced in the stack by the Menendez murders. Something's not right about that one. Those brothers just have a weird look about them.
"I mean, Johnson just rides around in his car all day looking at prostitutes! And I'm the one getting called on the carpet?"
I see we're going with the "poor pity me" version of the "no one knows how to be a cop" bit. It wasn't that McInnis was a bad cop - on the contrary, he was an excellent cop. The problem was that he couldn't make a collar without serious property damage. It seemed like the worse the crime, the higher dollar value of what got blown up. Not to mention his "investigative tactics" he was so fond of. B&E didn't apply to McInnis, apparently. He hated to have to put another write-up in his folder - hell, McInnis would probably be sitting in my chair if it weren't for the write-ups - but the mayor's office was breathing down his neck for some accountability.
"...you've been a cop for 20 years, Chief!" Ah, there's my cue.
"John, I know you're a good cop. We all saw the 500 kilos of drugs you brought in yesterday. We've got three dealers in custody and six more in the morgue. And off the record, we're all damn proud of the job you're doing. But g**dammit John, if you keep blowing up civilian's cars the city's not going to be able to afford insurance anymore! You know what that means? It means we get stuck WALKING everywhere! You don't want to be busted down to beat cop? You keep it up and we'll ALL be beat cops g**dammit!
"Now you listen up and you listen good: the takedown yesterday was good, but it didn't get the guys who're bringing this stuff in. There's opium all over the g**damn streets of this city and the press is really p*ssing off the mayor's office. You know what the jokers down at the Times have named this sh*t? POO! Stands for Purified Optimized Opium! That's their headline: Streets filled with POO! G**dammit, it makes a mockery of the force! You've got 48 hours to get this case wrapped up or it's your ass, you hear me McInnis!
McInnis knew his part as well as the Captain. He had started out of the office at the last sentence, opened the door so everyone in the squad room could hear "...or it's your ass" and slammed it shut behind him. Every blue suit in the room was quietly working, but all attention was on McInnis. He stood seething for the count of five, then turned and started for his desk. Halfway to it, he heard the captain's door open again.
"Get back to work people! I don't pay you to sit on your ass! Shirley, bring me a coffee and danish."
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