Detective Gabrielle Grey marched up to the giant, red-tiled building and pushed inside. It was early morning, but already the Chicago Police Department’s headquarters on South Michigan Avenue was busy – police officers, analysts, media liaison and support staff criss-crossing Gabrielle’s path as she strode towards the security barriers. Some she recognized, some she didn’t, but there was one face that was almost as familiar as her own – Norm, the duty officer who had manned the front desk for as long as she could remember. The CPD had moved into its new offices in Bronzeville in 2000 and since that time Gabrielle had never once seen Norm on his feet, a characteristic which formed the basis of many station jokes. Justice never sleeps, her team were fond of saying of Norm, it sits.
‘Morning, Norm. What’s up?’
‘Nothing much. Hoskins is chairing a crisis meeting in the Command Center –’
‘Another one?’
‘Same old, same old. Other than that, the sun is shining, the sky is blue and the Cubs are the greatest –’
‘– team in the world,’ Gabrielle concluded, to Norm’s evident pleasure.
Buzzing herself through, Gabrielle took the elevator to the eighth floor. From there it was a short walk to the Bureau of Detectives, the most prestigious department in the building and her personal fiefdom for the last three years.
A number of junior officers greeted her as she strode towards her corner office. She returned their greetings, retrieving her bagel from her bag as she did so. She was ravenous, having skipped breakfast to get the boys to school on time, and was keen to sink her teeth into her BLT, but the sight of three new photographs on the incident board made her pause. Her deputy, Detective Jane Miller, was already out on a job, so Detective Suarez now hurried over to her. Suarez had worked with Gabrielle for over five years and was a dependable, effective detective.
‘What’ve we got?’ Gabrielle asked, casting an eye over the faces.
‘One fatality in South Shore,’ Suarez replied, indicating the Caucasian male in the first photo. ‘Gang murder. Three gunshot wounds to the head and neck while sitting in his car. Shooter took off on a motorbike.’
Nodding grimly, Gabrielle gestured to the others.
‘And the others?’
‘Double fatality in South Lawndale. Two shooters, we think, with semi-automatic weapons. Took place in a popular late-night burger joint, but, guess what, nobody saw a thing.’
‘Get extra officers down there anyway,’ Gabrielle replied. ‘See if we can find somebody with a conscience –’
‘Someone with cojones,’ Suarez corrected her.
‘And speak to local religious leaders and social workers,’ Gabrielle continued. ‘They’re bound to know something …’
Suarez headed off to do her bidding, pulling in a couple of fellow detectives to join him. Gabrielle watched them go, casting her eye around the denuded office. Gabrielle had a large team – the largest in the CPD – but even so they were constantly short-staffed, given the sheer volume of gun-related homicides they had to deal with. The Mayor had promised to crack down on the gangs – providing extra state cash for police officers, as well as social and youth initiatives – but there was little sign of progress so far.
Gabrielle stared up at the photos. Three men gunned down in cold blood – for what? Belonging to a rival gang? Straying into the wrong territory? Disrespecting someone on Twitter? People had been killed for less. It was Gabrielle’s duty and that of her team to bring their killers to justice, but she knew the odds were stacked against them. Communities too scared to talk. Drugs lords willing to do anything to survive. Police officers and detectives ground down by the constant bloodshed. Nevertheless, they would do – she would do everything in her power to see that justice was done for the families, fired only by her sense of duty, her resolve and a cold BLT. As Gabrielle continued to gaze at the photos, she was reminded of something Superintendent Bernard Hoskins had said to her on her first day in the job.
Nobody becomes a detective in Chicago for an easy life.