48 HOURS.

   Forty-eight hours. That's all it took for me to ruin my life.

Forty-eight hours ago, I climbed the steps of the 1-9-3 Precinct, ready and eager to work the 8 x 4 tour of duty. Recently transferred to the Command, as is customary, I checked in with the Lieutenant at the front desk. I stood by while she finished writing in the Precinct's Log. After a few interruptions and distractions, she finally noticed me. The Lieutenant frowned as she gazed down at me.  

"Who the Hell are you?"

“Police Officer Kenneth Nelson, Lieutenant.”

“I’m Kate Ryan. Excuse me for a minute, Hey, Bailey, why aren’t you out on patrol?”

“Came in for a personal, Lieu.”

“Okay, but don’t linger, hear?”

Bailey nodded.

“Hey, Nelson, where you transfer from?”

“I transferred on a Mutual with Officer Simons. I spent five years in the 2-0-5.”

    “Simmons, huh. He was an empty suit. Are you an empty suit, Nelson?”

    Not knowing if she was serious or not, I hesitated before I answered.

    “No, Mame. I was the high collar man last month in the 2-0-5.”

“What is the 2-0-5, a ‘C’ house? You left a cushy ‘C’ house for this ‘A’ house? Lots of police work here. Boy, are you in for a culture shock.”

“I needed some high crime time.”

“Yeah, smart move. Get it out of your system while you’re young. Well, anywho, you’ll be riding with Police Officer Arthur Krinsky. Come on, let’s find him. Besides, I need to get up and stretch my legs.”

Lieutenant Ryan led me into the muster room. The officers, some in uniform, some in civilian clothes, were busy checking the roll call for their assignments or chatting among themselves.

“Hey, Perez. Put the Roll Call back on the wall. How can anyone else see it?”

“Sorry, Lieu, I wanted to show Castro something.”

“What? He can’t read it if it’s on the wall? Jeez.”

The Lieutenant shook her head as we continued to weave our way between the officers in the Muster Room.

“Hey, Krinsky. Meet your partner for the day, Police Officer, ah, what’s your name again?”

“Kenneth Nelson.”

“Yeah, right, Whatever. Arthur Krinsky meet Kenny Nelson.”

“No offense, Mame, but I prefer Kenneth.”

The Lieutenant and Krinsky exchanged smirks.

The Lieutenant smiles at me. “Oh, pardon. Kenneth, it is.”

“Why am I riding with him? No offense, Kenneth, but where’s my partner Angela Patron?”

“Patron banged out Administrative Sick. It’s either Kenneth here, and a sector or you two are on foot patrol—your choice.”

Krinsky sighed. “What Sector do we have, Lieu?’

“You’re keeping John-King, so I’ll know where to find you. Do me, proud boys.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the room.

Krinsky and I exchanged awkward smiles and handshakes, then went to the locker room to change into our uniforms.

Krinsky guides the patrol car out of the parking lot and safely into the heavy parkway traffic.

    ”C’mon, Nelson. Let me introduce you to the rest of the 9^th squad. All good people you can trust-if you know what I mean.” He winked.

After a few turns, we parked under the Eastside Bridge alongside two other radio cars. One of the other cops leaned forward and stared at me.

“Hey, Krinsky, whose ya new boyfriend.”

“I’m surprised you can say the word ‘boyfriend,’ Colleen. I know it’s been a long time since you had one.”

    They all laughed. I smiled. I didn’t know those cops well enough to laugh at their inside jokes.

    Krinsky continued. “Angela banged out sick. She had something to do and didn’t want to use her vacation days. She went Administrative Sick for two days.”

    Colleen nodded. “Yeah, smart move. Save the Vacation and Personal days for when you really need ‘em.”

    “Krinsky, you’re a bum. Yah hair bag.”

    Krinsky leaned forward.

“And yet, your wife still loves me, O’Connor.”

    They laughed again.

    “I want you to meet, Kenneth, never Kenny, Nelson.”

    They all yelled their greetings.

    Krinsky laughed.

    “Nelson, this is Colleen O’Hara and her partner Davie ‘Baby Boy’ Benton. They cover Sectors Adam-Baker-Charlie. Those other two over there cover Sectors David-Eddie-Frank. That's Tommy O’Connor and Bruce Lightner.”

    The introductions were interrupted by a call from the Headquarters Dispatcher referred to as Central.

    “Central to 1-9-3, Adam, K”

    O’Hara picked up the radio. ”3-Adam standing by, Central.”

    “Adam, we have a call of a, 10-22, Grand Larceny Auto, at 243 Tilman Ave. See complainant Morrison at the scene. There is a callback, K”

O’Hara repeated the instructions.

“GLA at 243 Tilman Avenue. See complainant Morrison. 10-4.” She hung up the radio. “We’ll see you later fellas.”

We watched as the RMP made its way down the roadway. At the corner, another radio car drove passed. Someone yelled.

 “That’s Sergeant Sullivan, the Patrol Supervisor.”

O’Connor started his police cruiser.

“We better get out of here.”

They drove off with us following closely behind.

After a fifteen-minute drive, Krinsky announced we were in Sector King. Krinsky gave me a personal tour of Sectors John and King.

He pointed to a wall covered with colorful graffiti.

 “You see those markings on the wall, Nelson? That’s how the Gangs mark their territory. Get to know the Gang signs. That kind of information can come in handy.”

Krinsky drove a few more blocks. 

“Nelson got family? Wife and Kids?”

“Yeah, My wife’s named Kim, two boys, Julian, 17, and Jeff 14. And you?”

“Divorced five years now. No kid’s, thank God. I hear from my ex on the of my checks, as the saying goes.”

“Any plans for the Job, or are you like me. A CFL?”

He looked at me and chuckled.

“You know. A Cop For Life.”

    I smiled. “I’m number 57 on the Sergeant’s List.”

“Who-o-o-a. I’m riding with a soon-to-be-boss. Wow, what a future. A sergeant with only five years on the job. In a few years, you’ll be a lieutenant. A few years after that, a captain, I betcha.”

“Thanks, Krinsky. I hope you’re right.”

Central interrupted.

“Units in the 1-9-3. Sector Ida, Henry, is requesting a back up for a 10-50, Disorderly Group, in front of 444 Simmons Street for crowd control. Units to respond?”

“I pick up the radio. “3-John/King will respond, Central.”

“10-4, 3-John. Advise when you’re 10-84 and if further assistance is needed.”  

“!0-4, Central. Will do.”

Krinsky sped through the streets with lights flashing and sirens blaring. In moments, we slid to a stop at the scene.

I picked up the radio, “Central 3-John is 10-84. It’s a hats and bats situation. 10-85, further assistance is needed.”

Krinsky jumped out of the car. I strapped on my helmet, grabbed my baton, and followed him. The officers I had met earlier were already there. We joined the officers and tried to control the crowd. There were cellphone cameras everywhere. The people in the group were looking passed us and screaming.

“Let him go!”

“You're killing him!”

Faintly, I heard someone plead, “I-I can’t breathe….”

I looked over my shoulder and saw an officer seated on the ground restraining a man with a police sanction restraint hold for struggling persons resisting arrest.

I turned to face the crowd. The crowd screamed, “That cop is gonna kill ‘em, Officer! Can’t you cops stop him?!”

I turned looked at the seated Officer. He continued to apply the restraint hold. But this time, amid all the tumult, I realized the man wasn’t struggling. Other Officers took over crowd control. Krinsky motioned for me to step back and take a break. As we walked by the seated Officer and the man, I stopped and headed towards them. Krinsky grabbed my arm and yanked me away and shoved me towards our radio car. I looked over my shoulder back at the seated Officer. Krinsky pushed me against the car.

    “What the Hell are you doing, Nelson. The Officer on the ground is Field Training Officer Walt Douglas. He is the senior cop on the scene. Right or wrong, the senior cop is in charge of the scene. I don’t know what started this, Nelson, but I do know you don’t interfere in another cop’s collar. Stay here. Let me find out what’s going on.”

    I watched as Krinsky approached another Officer. They had an animated back and forth conversation. Krinsky walked towards me with a sickened look on his face. Before he could say a word, I tore into him.

    “Look, Krinsky, I don’t give a damn what you say, Douglas has him in that hold too long. The crowd, everyone is screaming for him to let him go. The man is in medical distress. Can’t you see that? We can’t stand by a let Douglas kill that man.”

    Krinsky had a vacant look in his eyes. He focused and stared at me.

    “Look, Nelson, I don’t know how they did things in the 5, but here in the 3, it’s us against them. I may not approve of what Douglas is doing, but he’s got to prove a point to the criminals around here. We, the Police, have to control these streets. We gotta let them see, you betta not step out of line. Or you’ll be pushed back in line real hard.”

    I study Krinsky. “Krinsky. Doing nothing doesn’t feel right. I don’t like it.”

“Listen, Nelson, Douglas said he’s just waiting for the bus to transport this guy to the hospital. The guy will be just fine. No matter what happens, we have no worries. We never touched the guy.”

After another ten minutes, the bus, ambulance, arrived. The EMT examined the man. Krinsky and I watched as the EMT worked feverishly on the man. From the body language and facial expression, we knew all was not well.”

“Let’s get out of here, Nelson.”

An uneasy silence hung in the air of the radio car. We avoided looking at each other. Near the end of the tour, Krinsky offered.

“Look, Nelson. I know you don’t like what happened with Douglas, but I’m sure he had his reasons. Understand there’s an unwritten rule in Law Enforcement. You are either on the side of the police or on the side of the people in the streets. It’s us against them. Choose your side, Nelson.”

Krinsky drove into the parking lot and got out of the car. I stayed behind to finish up some paperwork. When I walked into the Precinct, Krinsky stood in front of the desk, head bowed. Lieutenant Ryan was standing and pointing her finger.

“Get over here, Nelson. First day here, and you’re involved in this debacle with Douglas. Do you two know that man died? He was pronounced at the scene. God, do you know the paperwork that’s involved in a thing like this? I want a report on my desk before you clock out, Officers. Do you understand, Krinsky? Do you understand, Nelson? Now, get outta my sight and get ta writin’.”

    Two hours later, I was home. My wife knew sensed something was wrong, but she hid it from the kids. I played video games with Jeff and Julian, until their bedtime.

    I laid in bed, waiting for Kim. As soon as she finished in the bathroom, she climbed into bed. She patted my hand.

    “Now, tell me what happened, Hon.”

    “I think my inaction might have caused a man’s death.”

    Kim looked at me. Kim pulled my head onto her shoulder. As we laid in bed, I explained to her what happened. I concluded by saying, “My inaction might have caused a man’s death.”

I put my head in her lap and cried.

    “But, Kenneth, wasn’t there anything anyone could have done?”

    Not waiting for an answer, she added.

    “Of course not. If there were, you would have done something?”

    We hugged her. The phone rang, and Kim it up.

    “Yes, he’s right here.”

    Kim handed me the phone.

    “Yes. 0900 hours tomorrow, yes, dress uniform.”

    I reached across Kim and hung up the phone.

    “This is not good.”

    “What’s wrong, Kenneth?”

    “I have to report to the Internal Affairs Division in the morning at 0900 hours.”

    The Internal Affairs Bureau office building is downtown. Entering the building, I felt nauseous. Sweat formed on my brow. My hands became clammy.

    “Good morning, officer Kenneth Nelson?”

    “Yes.”

    “I’m Officer John Taylor. I will be your Union Rep during the questioning.”

    We shook hands.

    “Do you know why you’re here?”

    “Because of the incident, I witnessed yesterday. But I never touched the guy.”

    Taylor placed his hands on my shoulder.

    “Okay, calm down. I saw the tape. It went viral, you know.”

    I nodded.

 “Listen to me carefully. I know you’re upset. But you must let me take the lead during the questioning. Answer no question unless I approve it. And please, do not embellish any answers. Answer what they ask. Now, take a deep breath.”

    I take a breath to compose myself.

    A police officer approached us.

    “Are you Police Officer Nelson? They're ready for you.”

    Taylor patted me on the back and assured me things are going to be okay. I had my doubts.

    We walked into the room and stood at attention. Two ranking officers, a lieutenant, and a captain were seated at a desk shuffling papers. The Lieutenant looks up and smiles.

    “Have a seat, gentlemen. I’ll be right with you.’

 The Lieutenant whispered to the captain, and they both laughed. Then she turned her attention to us. Her look was all business.

    “Good morning, gentleman. I am Lieutenant Donna Jones, and this is Captain William Mason. I will be conducting this inquiry. Captain Mason will be observing. For accuracy, please be advised that we will record these preceding. On my signal, please state your rank and full name.”

“Police Officer Kenneth James Nelson.”

“Police Office John W. Taylor, Union Representative.”

Lieutenant Jones began.

“Officer Nelson, are you assigned to the 1-9-3 Precinct?”

I look at Taylor. He nods. A routine I would repeat every time before I answered a question.

“Yes, Mame.”

“How long have you been a Police Officer, officer Nelson?”

“Five years, Mame.”

“Have you ever been involved in any arrest situations?”

“Yes, Mame. Many times.”

Taylor taps me on the knee. He mouths, “No, embellishing.”

I nod.

“Did you and your partner respond to a 10-5- yesterday in front 444 Simons Street of Officer Nelson?”

“Yes, Mame, we did.”

“Can you describe the scene, Officer?”

    I described the scene, emphasizing that I did not touch Mr. Johnson.

“Let me show you a video of the same incident Officer. This video went viral on social media. Tell me if you think it’s accurate.”

I watched the tape. The Lieutenant watched me.

After it was over, she looked at me.

“Officer Nelson, would you say that was an accurate description of the events?”

“Yes. As I told you, I never went near him.”

Taylor frowned at me.

“Do you remember the oath you swore to when you became a Police Officer? Officer? No. Let me read it to you. ‘On my honor, I will never betray my badge, my integrity, my character, or the public trust. I will always have the courage to hold myself and others accountable for our actions.’ Does that sound familiar, Officer Nelson.”

“Yes, Mame.”

“Have you sworn to enforce the law against unlawful acts?”

“Yes, Mame.”

    “You have repeatedly stated, ‘You never touched Mr. Johnson.’ But more importantly, you never approached Officer Douglas to attempt to terminate his actions. Your inaction may not have saved Mr. Johnson. But at least you could have tried.”

    “My inaction.” I thought of the phrase over and over.

    “Do you have anything to add, Officers?”

    We both shook our heads.

“I call this inquiry to an end.”

With that, the Lieutenant shutoff the tape.

    She sat down at her desk.

    “This is off the record. I spent fifteen years as a street cop and a Sergeant in two of the toughest commands in this city. I know the unwritten rule about interfering. But Nelson, I think you knew what you were witnessing wasn't right. But you did nothing. I want you to think about something, Officer Nelson. What would you have done if you saw a civilian doing to Mr. Johnson what Officer Douglas was doing? Would you have just walked away?”

    The Lieutentant’s cellphone rang. She glanced at the number and apologized.

    “Sorry I have to take this.”

    When she returned, she looked at me

    “Nelson, their ordering you to report to 1-9-3. Forthwith, when you’re dismissed from here. You’re dismissed.”

    We walked out of the office. On the bench outside waiting their turns were the members of the 9^th squad.

Once Taylor and I reached the lobby, he pulled me into a corner.

    “Damn. The Lieutenant’s pissed at your inaction. I think you’re looking at a big suspension and other punitive measures.”

    I nodded.

    “I’ll drop you off at the 1-9-3. I’m going that way.”

    “Thanks, Taylor.”

    I walked into the Precinct. Two men in plainclothes Detectives were talking with the Desk officer. As I approached, I heard her say, “That’s Nelson.”

    The men rushed over to me and grabbed my arms.

    “Do you have your weapon, Officer?”

         “Yes.”

    I reached for my gun, and they tightened their grip.   

    “Just tell us where it is, we’ll get.”

    They removed my gun from its holster and handed it to the Lieutenant.

    “Where’s the shield?”

    “Right front pocket.”

    They take my shield.

    As one of the Detectives placed handcuffs on my wrist, the other announced.

    “Officer Nelson, we are placing you under arrest for Aiding and Abetting in the Murder of Mr. Daniel Johnson.”

        I thought to myself. “48 hours. Just 48 hours ago, I was happy.”