Listening in on the radio channel used by SWAT, we were kept abreast of the goings-on throughout the city. With any luck, we’d get through the night without more people from law enforcement losing their lives. Patrol made their rounds and 911 calls came in, but SWAT assisted at every emergency. For now, a mandatory curfew was in place for residents of the Second and Seventh districts until the shooter was in custody, and that was for the safety of the police as well as every citizen living in those neighborhoods.
Lutz burst from his office and yelled out to us in the bull pen. “They have a match! Fingerprints belonging to a Carlton Blake were on both the soda can and shell casing. He’s a career criminal that was just released back on the streets because a recent murder charge was thrown out of court on a technicality. The IAFIS database picked up his last known address and every detail about him. Let’s go! We need to roll on that house right now!”
The detectives jumped to their feet. Officers ran to their squad cars, and Abrams was told to have his patrol units go in dark and set up a perimeter two blocks from Blake’s house. With no intention of letting one more officer die, we’d post ourselves out of his reach at the perimeter, finalize the plan for the takedown, and go in on foot.
Suited up with vests on and our guns at the ready, eight officers and six detectives, along with our commander, Lutz, moved in on the two-story dwelling and surrounded it. We had no idea how many people were inside, but given the type of person Carlton Blake was, we were sure his known associates weren’t any better. They were likely all armed and extremely dangerous.
Radio communication told us everyone was in position. From the looks of the house, with most downstairs and upstairs lights on, we were sure Blake wasn’t the only person inside.
Officers led the way and crashed through the front door with the ram. The element of surprise was on our side, and none of them saw it coming.
The first officer in the door yelled out as we swarmed the five occupants inside. “Chicago PD! Let’s see your hands now! Get on the ground!”
Two men ran for the back but were quickly overpowered by the officers waiting at the rear door.
“Clear the house,” Lutz yelled as the smack-talking, tattooed Carlton Blake stared down the barrel of Lutz’s gun. “Cuff these pieces of shit.”
Mills, Henry, and I made short work of the three men in the living room, cuffing their hands behind their backs and emptying their pockets. Roberts, Gaines, and Murray cuffed the men who ran for the back door, while the officers cleared every room of the house.
Lutz made the call to Abrams while Carlton and his crew were being placed in the back seats of the squad cars. “Mark, we got him. We’re on our way to the station, where Mr. Blake will be waiting in box one. Feel free to join me in the observation room while my detectives bring him to his knees. Carlton’s boys will be enjoying the night behind bars while a half dozen officers tear apart that house.”
Darkness had taken over the night an hour earlier, and even though nothing had been substantiated, the men and women in blue breathed a sigh of relief when word of Carlton Blake’s apprehension spread throughout the districts.
Lutz put Frank and me in charge of the interrogation, while back at Carlton’s house, officers went through every square inch of space.
“Go ahead, guys. Mark and I will be watching from the observation room.”
“You got it, Boss.” I held the door open as Frank and I passed through, then I let it slam behind me. Frank pulled out a chair, took a seat, and placed Carlton’s lengthy jacket on the table. I remained standing.
“Looks like you skated by on that murder charge last week. Good job, Carlton. You won that round. So, is killing six cops your way of sticking it to us? You think you’re running Chicago now. Isn’t that a fact?” Mills turned to me, wearing a wide grin. “What a dumbass, right?”
I rubbed my chin. “I’m not so sure, Frank. Carlton knows Illinois isn’t a death penalty state anymore, and maybe he likes it on the inside. There are some good-looking guys behind bars, you know. All buff and tatted up. Hell, that even sounds good to me.” I leaned close to Carlton’s ear. “Deep down, you wanted that murder charge to stick, and when it didn’t, you went all out and mowed down six good cops. Isn’t that right, dirtbag?”
He spewed his anger at both of us. “I have no idea what you pigs are talking about. I didn’t kill anyone then, and I didn’t kill anyone now. Get your facts straight, pal. This is harassment, and you’re trying to pin multiple murders on me because the last one didn’t stick.”
I laughed in his face. “Pal? My name is Detective McCord, punk, and the only pals you’re ever going to have again will be at Stateville Correctional Center. The boys there would love to be your pal, if you get my drift.”
Mills chuckled and opened the folder. “You see, Carlton, we have you dead to rights. Your prints were found on a soda can right next to marks that were ground into the concrete where the shooter took aim. Not only that, but your prints were also on a particular type of shell casing found at the site. You set up your post from two blocks away and took out four cops last night. Another shooting happened this morning, and mark my word, you’ll also be held accountable for those two deaths.”
“I didn’t kill any cops. I was playing video games last night at the house. Ask my boys. There were plenty of people there.”
I slammed my fist on the table. “Video games? That’s the story you’re going with? What are you, seven? Where were you this morning?”
“At home, doing the same shit as last night.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t work for me, Carlton. You see, the people that would corroborate your story are all unreliable witnesses. You’re all criminals that would make up anything for each other.”
He wrenched at his cuffs. “Then give me a lie detector test! I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“You’ve done plenty wrong,” Mills said. “But yeah, we’ll get you hooked up. No problem.”
A knock sounded on the mirror at our backs. I pushed off the wall, left the box, and entered the observation room.
“What’s up, Commander?”
Lutz tipped his chin toward the one-way window. “I’m not sure he’s good for this, Jesse.”
“How is that possible?”
“So far, the officers haven’t found an AR-15 at the house or any ammo that would be used with one.”
“The gun doesn’t have to belong to Carlton for him to fire it. His only alibis for last night and this morning are his gangster buddies, who are far from credible.”
Abrams scratched his cheek. “Then hook him up. We need to know without a shadow of a doubt whether he is or isn’t the shooter. I won’t give my patrol officers a false sense of security, thinking he’s the guy if he isn’t.”
Lutz gave me a go-ahead nod.
“Call Marty Stamos and have him run the test.”