All characters and places in this series are fictional. Any resemblance they bear to actual people or places is purely coincidental.
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Patrolman Kevin Murphy hated vandalism calls. Inevitably someone’s property had been damaged. The damage was either repairable or not. If it was, the owner would eat the cost of the repairs unless they had some type of insurance to cover it and a small enough deductible to make the claim worth their time submitting. If the damage was irreparable then the property would either have to be torn down or left in its damaged condition. And why? Vandals didn’t GAIN anything out of the act. All they got was the feeling of having gotten away with something they knew they shouldn’t be doing. It made no sense at all and Patrolman Murphy was especially frustrated by it. It left him powerless to do much beyond taking pictures, writing the report and seeing if they (the agency) could find the perpetrator. Even if they did, it was a rare occasion that the vandal could pay for the damages s/he caused.
In this case, a stone wall had been spray-painted. When Murphy pulled up he realized that the complainant was the pastor at the local Catholic church. Father Ignazzio Santorio reminded Murphy of an old Saturday Night Live character, but he couldn’t recall the character’s name. Fr. Santorio, more often referred to as “Iggie,” was waiting next to the defaced wall as Murphy pulled up. Murphy advised the communications center that he was on the scene and got out to greet the priest.
“Good morning, Iggie,” said Murphy.
“It could be better,” replied the priest. “But,” he continued, “Every day we are blessed to serve the Lord is a good day, eh?”
“You say so, father,” replied Murphy. Patrolman Murphy wasn’t particularly religious and although he had attended a Catholic high school, he’d never practiced the Catholic faith. The closest he’d gotten was being raised Episcopalian… which to him was about the same minus the incense and confession.
The defaced stone wall surrounded the church’s small cemetery. A large “22” had been spray painted on it with the numbers being surrounded by a decorative circle and swirls. It almost looked like a Christmas wreath with a 22 in the middle except that it was painted in a mix of blue and neon orange instead of green and red.
Gesturing to the graffiti, Murphy asked, “This mean anything to you, Father? The ‘22’ have any significance you’re aware of?”
“It’s not religious in any way,” replied the priest. “It’s in reference to a new street gang in the area if I’m not wrong.”
“New street gang?” asked Murphy. He was surprised. Oceanside’s last – and only that he knew of – street gang was The Breakers, and they’d been wiped out awhile back by an as yet unidentified attacker. The whole gang had literally either been killed or severely wounded, but all of the properties the gang had used had been burned to the ground and any property they had stored in the buildings had been destroyed as well. Information about a new street gang was both bothersome and necessary at the same time.
“Yes,” said Father Santorio. “If I’m not wrong it’s in reference to the ‘Double Deuce’ gang, so named because their headquarters or whatever you call it is located on 22nd Street, about two blocks off the beach.”
Murphy nodded as he pulled out his notepad to write down the information. “How do you know about them, father?” he asked.
“Parents mostly,” replied the priest. “They come to me with worries about their children and the rumors of this new gang. One parent tells another parent about the gang and they discuss whether or not their children are in it, what might happen if they are… you know. Parental gossip that is usually wasted breath. They’d be better off talking to their children and asking direct questions rather than discussing hearsay behind the kids’ backs.”
Murphy nodded. He was familiar with the situation. “Father,” he said, “I know you can’t violate the sanctity of confession, but if anyone confessed to you being a member of this gang, is there any way that you could pass that along?”
The priest shook his head. “I will never share anything learned in confession, but…” he paused and carefully structured his statement in his head before saying it, “If I hear something in confession that I can investigate independently and confirm via non-confidential sources, then I’ll pass the information along to you that I glean from those sources.”
Murphy nodded. “Fair enough, Father,” he said. “Thanks.” Turning away from the priest, Murphy got out his Mobile Data Terminal (MDT) – in reality a ruggedized tablet computer – so he could take pictures and write his report. It took about five minutes for him to get all the blanks filled in and he gave Father Santorio the case number. Remounting his MDT, Murphy advised the communications center that he was clear of the call and went back out onto patrol. As he drove away, Father Santorio mouthed a silent prayer and blessing, asking the Lord to watch over the officer and insure his safety. The priest was all too aware of the attacks that had been occurring on police officers nationwide and it weighed heavily on his soul. He prayed for the law enforcement professionals at least three times a day and he hoped his heavenly father heard his prayers.
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Max and JP were both off and had enjoyed sleeping in. JP was making a habit of staying at Max’s place any night they had the night off together or on most nights when they both had day work the next day. Ever since they’d gotten engaged, JP’s mother had stopped lecturing her about spending the night with Max. Old world values and traditions weighed heavily on JP’s mom, but she’d come into the 21st century enough to accept that her daughter, now engaged, could spend the night with her fiancé. JP was pretty sure her mother still thought she wasn’t actually having sex with Max… but she wasn’t about to open that discussion either.
Waking up without an alarm was always good in JP’s mind. It meant waking up slowly, rolling back over if she wanted, snuggling up to Max and in general being lazy about starting the day. Max definitely wasn’t complaining because he’d far prefer to wake up to JP snuggling up to him as compared to the brassy buzz of his alarm clock startling him awake. As warm as all of the rest of JP was under the covers when she rolled over to snuggle, her nose was cold when she nuzzled his neck and that woke him up pretty quick. He jumped a bit and JP giggled.
“Good morning, lover,” she said with a grin he could hear.
“Good morning,” he said with a smile of his own, pulling her closer. “What were you planning on making for breakfast?”
“Careful,” she said, the smile still obvious in her voice, “your sexism is showing.”
“Damnit!” he said with a chuckle. “Is it sticking out again?” JP laughed, pulled the covers up and looking down the front of him. The shivered at the cold air sucked down under the blankets by her motion.
“Nope,” replied JP as she let the covers back down. “Not even a little bit.” He chuckled along with her as they held each other quietly and enjoyed the moment of awake relaxation and closeness. After a few minutes JP asked, “Did you have anything planned for today?”
“Not particularly,” replied Max. “At some point I need to go see Major Giancarllo.”
“You thinking about applying for the SWAT team?” JP asked. She knew it was one of the options he’d considered and, knowing Max, she knew it was probably his most likely choice, but he hadn’t actually made his mind up yet.
“Yeah,” he said, almost sounding guilty about it. “The Chief called me in a few days ago to prod me about making a move and nothing else on the agency is really calling to me right now. I mean, maybe after some time on the SWAT team, assuming I can make it, I might be interested in switching to investigations or something…” He let his voice trail away and left the thought hanging.
JP lay quiet for a few minutes. She wasn’t a fan of the idea of Max joining the SWAT team. he didn’t have any doubts that he could qualify for the team, or that they’d choose him if they had an opening, but… Max had been shot before when they were just dating and she had a hard time dealing with her fears. The fear of losing him hadn’t gone away and she was truly unsure of herself. She wasn’t sure how she’d handle the challenges if he was seriously hurt again in the line of duty and she KNEW she have a hard time even functioning day to day if Max was (God forbid) killed in the line of duty. Max had repeatedly told her that if he HAD to go into a risky situation – which every cop did on an almost daily basis – then he’d rather go into it with a team of well trained, highly skilled, properly equipped officers rather than just Sean on the street. Not to take anything away from his partner, Sean Davidson, but one back up officer was a far cry less than a TEAM of SWAT guys.
JP knew all that. She knew Max wanted to chase his dream of being a SWAT officer and she knew he could do it. She also knew that Max was very aware of her feelings and her fears and he was hesitant to put her in that position. He didn’t want to cause her stress or worry and that concern for her was what was holding him back; making him go slower in his approach to the decision. That was the reality that made JP open her mouth and speak up.
“Do you have to make an appointment with the Major?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” Max replied. “I called over there the other day and the receptionist told me that the Major is in his office most days. I can just call ahead to confirm that he’s in and go see him if he is.”
“Then you should do that today,” JP said firmly. “Find out what the timeline is and what you have to do.”
“I know what I have to do,” said Max. “I have to apply for Tactical Officers training and then successfully complete that when it is scheduled. Then there is a series of tests, both performance and verbal, that I have to complete. My performance on all that gets reviewed by the Major and the team commander and they pick whomever they want to join the team. They pass a memo to the Chief’s office, the Chief approves it and hands it off to personnel… and the transfer order gets written.”
“So you’re just waiting to find out about the Tactical Officers school?” JP asked.
“Yes and no,” said Max. “The Chief is already pushing me and he told me he was sure I’d do well over in SWAT. It was almost as if he was saying there was no doubt I’d be chosen if I passed everything. What I want to do is meet with the Major to ask for his guidance on the most efficient way to approach this, without leaving Eddie short-handed if I can avoid it, and get a feel for him.”
“For the major?” JP specified.
“Yeah,” said Max. “I mean, if I’m going to be working for the man I want an idea of what kind of guy he is. I want to meet him; talk to him; look him in the eye. I want to see how the team commander reacts to him and behaves around him. I want to see… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain I guess. I want to see what kind of man he is so I can decide whether or not I want to work for him.”
“That makes sense,” JP said. “But first…” she continued as she snuggled closer, “I want to stay here a few more minutes.” Max wasn’t about to argue and it was almost an hour later before they were getting out of bed.
After showers and breakfast JP kissed Max goodbye and went to visit with her mom for a bit. She also needed to stop into her own place – because, after all, it was where she allegedly lived. She realized how much time she was spending at Max’s and smiled to herself about it. It wasn’t a bad thing.
Max pondered what he wanted to say and ask when he met the Major. Before getting into his Jeep for the drive over, Max had called to make sure the Major was in. He was and Max had given the receptionist an ETA of about a half hour. It might not take that long – in fact, he didn’t expect it to – but he’d rather be early that late.
A little less than a half hour later he was walking into the command office for Special Operations; Major Francesco “Frank” Giancarllo’s domain. The Major had a reputation for being fair and even-tempered. He also had a reputation for demanding the most and best out of his teams. The Special Operations Division was broken up into the SWAT section, the motorcycle unit, the DARE/GREAT education unit, the Harbor Patrol unit, which also contained the dive team, and the Crime Reduction unit. Each section or unit had its own commander, either a Captain or Lieutenant depending on the size of the unit itself, and Max was expecting the SWAT team leader, Lieutenant Stephen “Steve” Thompson, might be in the meeting as well.
Major Giancarllo’s receptionist used the intercom to report Max’s arrival and was immediately told to send him in. She nodded at the door. Max took a deep breath and went on in. He was right. Both Major Giancarllo and Lieutenant Thompson were there. They were seated on either side of the Major’s desk and both stood when Max entered. Aware of protocol, Max stepped over and shook the Major’s hand first. “Thank you for making the time to see me, sir,” Max said as he shook the man’s hand. The Major just waved it off as if to say, ‘No big deal.’
Turning to the Lieutenant, who he had not previously met, Max extended his hand and introduced himself. Thompson did the same in return and, with the formalities completed, all the men sat down. Major Giancarllo spoke first. “Max, you asked for this meeting and I’m happy to give you my time. What can I do for you?”
“Well, sir,” Max said, “as I believe I told you, the Chief is pushing me to request a transfer now that I’ve completed my FTO and probationary time. Based on my military background and experience, he seemed to feel that I might want to apply for a transfer to the special operations division and, more specifically, the SWAT team. I looked into the process and found that to even apply for the SWAT team, I have to first complete the Tactical Officers course.” Both the Major and the Lieutenant were nodding to confirm the correctness of that statement. Max continued. “So, my request to meet with you was meant to save time and inconvenience.” The Major raised his eyebrows as if to ask what Max meant. “I would like to attend the Tactical Officers course whenever it is offered, but if there are no openings on the SWAT team, it seems ill-advised to spend the time in the qualifying course only to find out there’s no chance of getting on the team. I’m here, sir, asking for guidance on how best to proceed so I can avoid wasting the agency’s payroll dollars and my own time.”
The Major nodded. He looked over at the Lieutenant, their eyes met and the Lieutenant nodded in a barely perceptible way – but Max saw it. The two men were having a silent conversation about something, but Max didn’t know what. The Major looked back at Max and filled him in.
“Max, there are some things I can’t discuss with you at this point, but I’ll say this – and you have to listen to it very carefully. Understand what I’m saying and then if you take any implied meaning, that’s up to you. Understand?” Max nodded and the Major continued. “You’re correct about the process for applying to SWAT. You would have to attend the Tactical Officers course and we have one coming up in a couple months. Successful completion would allow you to apply for the SWAT team. For you to get selected for the SWAT team would require you to pass several qualification tests to enter SWAT school and then the successful completion of SWAT school. Assuming you successfully completed SWAT school, and assuming there was an opening on the team, there’d be no reason for you to NOT be selected that we’re aware of.”
Max absorbed that before saying anything. “So, the only question – assuming I can do all of that, and I’m relatively confident that I can – is whether or not there’d be an opening… but I don’t imagine you can comment on that, can you, sir?”
The Major shook his head. “No, I can’t, Max. But I’ll tell you this. We,” he gestured at the Lieutenant to indicate who the rest of “we” was, “occasionally take a look through the personnel files of those officers who catch our eye; the officers we might like to recruit. Your file has been on my desk more than once and we targeted you as a good potential recruit. There’s a reason the Chief pushed you this way. He got tired of me nagging him.” The last part was said with a smile and told Max all he needed to know.
Feeling like he’d taken enough of the Major’s time and not wanting to stretch out the meeting to be something he might not like, Max stood up and extended his hand to the Major. “Thank you, sir. I think I understand. I’ll put in the request for Tactical Officers school as soon as it’s announced and follow through accordingly.”
“Good idea,” said the Major as he stood and shook Max’s hand.
Max turned to shake the Lieutenant’s hand as well, and the Lieutenant smiled. “Better start running… a lot.” Max smiled, nodded and then turned to leave the office.
Once Max was out the door the Major and the Lieutenant sat back down. They had a very brief conversation about Max’s suitability for the team and agreed that he’d been a good choice. Neither had much doubt that Max could complete the necessary selection and training process and, if his academy shooting scores were any indication, he’d pass the shooting tests with ease.
For his part, Max headed directly to the squad room at headquarters and immediately drafted the memo to request attendance to the Tactical Officers course. He addressed it to Sgt. Edward Presser knowing that Eddie would pass it up the Chain of Command. He left the letter in Eddie’s inbox and then headed back out to his Jeep. He had some grocery shopping to do before meeting JP again later and then he could enjoy his evening off with her. He would tell her about his plans and he was sure she’d support them. Yesterday he hadn’t held that same conviction, but thanks to this morning’s conversation he felt more comfortable with it.
