Legacy and Redemption (3 page)

Galvin just smiled and nodded; careful not to say anything that could be taken the wrong way.

“Tommy, I wanted to make sure that I spoke to you before I went home today for a few reasons. First and foremost, I wanted to welcome you to the command. I also wanted to let you know that I’ve heard a lot of good things about you. Your reputation speaks for itself.”

Enton pointed to the medals worn over Galvin’s shield. “Anyone who has as much departmental recognition as you do has to be doing something right.”

Galvin didn’t say a word, but in his mind he agreed with Enton. Galvin had been awarded over eighty medals for heroism and bravery in the line of duty over his ten years in the department—that was more medals, by far, than any other officer he had known. As a matter of fact, Galvin’s display of medals had earned him the nickname of ‘the rack’ in his former command. “Thank you, Inspector.”

Enton took a sip from his coffee before he began. “I have high expectations of you here, Tommy. Were you aware that Lieutenant Thompson and I were on the same narcotics team some years back? The Lieutenant speaks very highly of you. He says that you’re one of the best investigators that he’s ever had the privileged to supervise.”

Galvin was in fact aware that his former commanding officer from the 113 Detective Squad knew his current one. Lieutenant Thompson had promised to make a phone call on Galvin’s behalf and apparently he had kept his word. “Yes sir. You should know that Lieutenant Thompson had nothing but good things to say about you as well. He was happy for me when he learned that I was coming to the
Six-Seven
upon promotion. He said that I could learn a lot about being a supervisor from watching how you run the precinct.”

“That’s nice to hear, Tommy.” Enton took another sip of his coffee before getting to the heart of the matter. “Here’s what I really wanted to ask of you, Tommy. I’m sure that you’re aware that an Academy class just graduated.” Before Galvin would have a chance to respond, Enton continued. “I’d like for you to be the Field Training Sergeant.”

Galvin felt a bit deflated. In honesty, he had no desire to train rookies. He was hoping to learn the ropes of being a supervisor and then get himself into a precinct detail, such as an arrest oriented unit like A
nti-Crime
. Galvin did his best to mask his disappointment. “Sure, boss, anything you like.” Galvin quickly realized he may not have sold his answer as well as he thought he had.

“It’s not forever, Tommy. The way the job is today, and with all of the controversy surrounding stop and frisk in the papers every day, I need a strong leader to teach the young officers the right way to do things. Forget the Police Academy; cops are molded by the first training officer they encounter. A lazy or incompetent training officer will produce lazy and incompetent cops—a skilled and active training officer will produce active cops who want to learn the correct way to do the job.”

Galvin nodded his head. “I agree with that one hundred percent, Inspector.”

“Give me a few months training the rookies, and I promise you that we’ll find a more suitable position for you. The current Anti-Crime Sergeant is only fifty names away from being promoted to Lieutenant. There’s a real good chance that his spot will open up around the same time that the rookies graduate from field training and are put into squads.”

Galvin could feel his eyes light up. Training the rookies for six months would be a welcomed trade off to get a coveted spot such as an Anti-Crime Sergeant, especially so soon after being promoted. “I’d appreciate the opportunity, Inspector. Whatever you need me to do.”

Enton offered Galvin a smile. “Thank you, Tommy. Look on the bright side, if you’re the training Sergeant that’ll mean you won’t be stuck on the desk for the next six months.”

Galvin returned Enton’s smile with one of his own as he measured what Enton had said. If he were to be the Field Training Sergeant, and then right into Anti Crime afterwards, maybe he’d be able to avoid having to be the desk officer for quite some time—given the reputation of how hard learning the desk was for a rookie sergeant, this might not be so bad after all. “I didn’t even think of that boss, but I’m not afraid of the desk,” Galvin lied. “How bad could it be?”

Enton replied with a playful laugh. “Well, if you decide to decline the training officer position, I have a feeling you’ll find out first hand, rather quickly.”

Galvin had enough time in the NYPD and enough common sense to know that while Inspector Enton made it seem like he was giving Galvin a choice, in reality, Enton was just being polite. The position was Galvin’s whether he wanted it or not, so he might as well just play along. “Inspector, I’m looking forward to the challenge of training the rookies. I won’t disappoint you.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Tommy. You’ll be working the
fourth platoon
with them; six in the evening until two am every night. Your
RDOs
will be Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The rookies are at Borough Orientation this week so you’ll start with them next week.”

“Sounds good boss,” although it really didn’t to Galvin. Having Tuesdays and Wednesdays as his
R
egular
D
ays
O
ff
was less than desirable and working until two in the morning—especially on weekends—would not allow for much of a social life. Still, it was only temporary Galvin was quick to remind himself.

Enton took a final drink from his coffee and stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. He once again reached out to shake Galvin’s hand. “Thanks, Tommy. Go and see the
Administrative Lieutenant
and have him put you in the correct chart. I’m going to go home and try to get some sleep. I have to be back in for a four to twelve tonight.”

“Safe home, boss, and thanks again.”

Galvin walked with Enton back to the desk where Enton would sign out for the day. Lieutenant Shea, seeing his Commanding Officer approach, stood up. He closed a couple of logs which had been lying on top of the command log and relocated a few department memos to make room for the Inspector. He then offered Enton a pen, which was accepted.

“Thank you, Bill.”

After signing out, Enton set the pen down in the crease of the command log. Lieutenant Shea said goodbye to Enton with the slightest bit of an Irish brogue. Then Enton turned back to Galvin. “One more thing, Tommy; like I said, your reputation precedes you. Since you’re technically assigned to orientation for the next couple of days, you really aren’t counted against the man power figures. I want you to take this opportunity to familiarize yourself with the local crime patterns, read through the unusual occurrence reports, and go and introduce yourself to the detective squad bosses. I know you’ll be a huge asset to this command in fighting crime.”

“I’ll start right away, Inspector. Thanks again.”

Enton walked out of the back door towards the parking lot as Galvin headed towards the staircase to go up to the precinct detective squad just as his boss had directed him to do. It sounded like a good plan to Galvin. He was confident in his abilities as a police officer. There was no doubt in Galvin’s mind that he could effectively help fight crime in his new precinct just as he had done in his previous command in Queens, and he looked forward to proving it.

Galvin hadn’t gotten more than a few feet from the desk when he heard the Irish brogue call out to him. “Sergeant, where is it that you think you’re going?” asked Shea.

“The detective squad?” offered Galvin in response. Shea had been standing right next to them when the inspector had directed him to do so.

Was I suppose to ask his permission when the C.O. gave me a directive?
Galvin wondered.

“I’m afraid not, Sergeant.” Shea’s face grew slightly redder. “You can go and play cops and robbers on your meal hour if you like. I’m going into the Lieutenant’s locker room to catch up on some paper work. You’ve got the desk for the rest of the day. I’ll relieve you for meal at about noon.” Shea turned his back and began to walk towards the locker room. About halfway to the locker room, he turned back around and added. “And Sergeant, make sure you don’t bother me for anything short of a cop involved shooting or a plane crash…is that understood?”

Galvin smiled and nodded, “Understood, Lieu.”

Shea walked away leaving Galvin with a hundred questions and no answers. Galvin sat down for the first time behind the desk at the Sixty-Seventh Precinct in Brooklyn. He sat at the helm of one of the busiest precincts in the city with nothing more than classroom training to guide him. He looked at the command log, reading through the prior entries. There were nearly a dozen logs scattered about, memos from the commanding officer, the executive officer, the administrative lieutenant, and lists upon lists of phone numbers. Galvin was a bit frazzled, but couldn’t overlook the irony of the situation, forcing a chuckle to himself.

So much for not having the desk until I know what I’m doing
.

The phone then rang for the first time since Galvin sat at the helm. Galvin started at it momentarily before picking it up. “Six-Seven Desk, Sergeant Galvin speaking; how can I help you?”

With over six months in the Police Academy, another two weeks of Brooklyn South Borough orientation, community sensitivity training, and dozens of boring lectures behind him, today was the first day that Timothy Keegan would hit the streets as a New York City Police Officer. He felt that he looked sharp in his crisply pressed uniform as he studied his reflection in the precinct’s bathroom mirror. He inched in closely to inspect his face; fearing he may not have shaved closely enough. He had heard from those before him that the supervisors at the precinct were not as stringent as they were in the police academy. Still, he wanted to look as professional as possible; he was clean shaven, his wavy reddish-brown hair was short and neat.

Keegan walked back to his locker and strapped his unblemished, black leather gun belt tightly around his waist. He removed a Glock 9mm handgun from the top shelf of his locker and locked it into the stiff leather holster with a clearly audible snap, indicating a proper fit. Keegan walked through the rows upon rows of grey lockers, making his way to the staircase. He took them two stairs at a time, not even slightly out of breath as he reached the main floor. Timothy Keegan knew that he was in the best shape of his life. While he went to the gym on a regular basis before he entered the police academy, the physical rigor of the training in addition to his own routine, had his six foot, one hundred and eighty-five pound frame, in top physical condition.

His body was a battle of nerves and excitement. Keegan’s mixed emotions were probably similar to the rest of the rookies in the NYPD, all of whom were all taking to the streets for the first time, but there was something slightly different for Keegan. If there were such a thing as a legacy in the NYPD, Keegan would undoubtedly be considered one. Keegan’s father, James Keegan, was a Lieutenant assigned to the Joint Terrorist Task Force back in the early 1990’s. The elder Keegan was murdered in the line of duty when Timothy was only eight years old. From all of the research that he’d done, and from the stories that he had been told of his father’s career, Timothy knew that he had big shoes to fill if he truly wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps.

There were two people standing behind the desk as Keegan approached. One a sergeant, presumably the desk officer, the other was an old time cop. Keegan felt it would be more appropriate to speak
cop to cop
than it would be to bother the sergeant. His thinning grey hair and the sagging skin around his cheek bones were a clear indication to Keegan that the cop was easily in his very late fifties or even his early sixties. The cop looked up as Keegan approached. They made eye contact, making it easier for Keegan to begin. Keegan read his nameplate before he addressed the man.

“Excuse me, Officer Gilbert. Today’s my first day. Can you tell me where I’m supposed to report?”

“You’re the first one here, rookie,” Gilbert began, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Gilbert held a finger up to Keegan as a slight smile came across his face. Looking past Keegan, Gilbert’s face became serious again. Keegan looked over his shoulder, curious to see what had distracted the veteran cop. Keegan saw Cathy Quinn walking into the precinct; her gear in one hand and her uniforms—direct from the dry cleaners—in the other. Keegan had sat with Quinn for the majority of the past couple of weeks at training and had been happy to learn that she was going to the same command that he was. Her red hair was once again restricted in a tight bun.

“Hey, Cathy,” offered Keegan.

“Oh, hey, Timmy.” Keegan was sure her green eyes lit up a bit when he’d said hello. “Oh my God, what time did you get here?” she asked. “I was sure that I’d be the first one here.”

Before Keegan had a chance to respond, Gilbert spoke. “Officer, are you going down to the ladies locker room?”

After Quinn acknowledged that she was, Gilbert continued, “Just wait for one second.”

From behind the desk, Gilbert quickly flicked on a switch to what was clearly a surveillance camera. “Do me a favor. There’s an officer in the locker room, her name is Brenda. She was supposed to be up here fifteen minutes ago.” Gilbert pointed at the monitor, although neither Keegan nor Quinn could see it. “She’s sitting on a bench in the third row reading a magazine. Tell her to get up here right away.” He motioned back at the monitor again. “Would you look at this, for God sake? She doesn’t even have her gun belt on yet. Tell her to hurry, please.”

Quinn agreed and headed down to the locker room. Gilbert looked back at Keegan. He smiled to himself. “I’m sorry rookie, what’d you want?”

“Today’s my first day. I just wanted to know where I’m supposed to go.”

Gilbert pointed to a large room across from the desk area. “Normally, you wait for your sergeant right there. That’s the
muster room
. That’s where you’ll have roll call every day.”

Keegan began to walk away, “Thanks.”

“Hold on rookie. Since you’re here even before your sergeant, come around the desk and grab the training log for him.” Gilbert pointed to a set of drawers behind the desk. “It’s in the second drawer from the top.”

Keegan walked around the desk as instructed to retrieve the training log. He glanced at the surveillance camera to reveal three men sitting on a bench in the holding cell. He was a bit confused, but grabbed the log without another word. As Keegan exited the desk area, the stairway door flew open. A female officer emerged, her gun belt slung over her shoulder with a magazine in her hand.

Brenda
, decided Keegan.

The female officer broke out into a fit of laughter as she walked over to Officer Gilbert offering him a high five. “You had to see her Bernie; she was looking all around for the cameras. She couldn’t even look me in the eye when she told me to come upstairs. She was too busy scanning the locker room.”

Gilbert returned her high five, and a huge grin lit up his face. “That’s great, Brenda! The rookies fall for it every time.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to get dressed inside of her locker,” added the female officer, her face red from the laughter.

Keegan silently chuckled to himself as he walked into the muster room.

Rookie hazing; I should’ve known.

Being the first one there, Keegan decided to examine the pin maps and wanted posters hanging on the walls. He set his gear down on a chair in the first of the six rows of blue plastic chairs and put the training log on the Sergeant’s podium in the front of the room. Keegan saw a shoe shine machine in the corner of the room next to the bathrooms and decided to put a coat of polish on his boots. When the shine finally met his expectations, Keegan studied the pin maps. They gave a breakdown of the serious crimes in the precinct by the time of day and the location where they had been committed. Next to the pin maps were assorted wanted posters and the local robbery pattern sheets.

Keegan reached behind him, retrieving his memo book from his rear pocket. On a blank piece of paper, he began to write down the names and vehicle descriptions of those wanted by the precinct detective squad. He was slightly startled by a voice from behind him. “That’s what I like to see; a cop who takes initiative.”

Keegan turned around to see a uniformed Sergeant entering the muster room. The sergeant had a rack of medals halfway up to his shoulder. “Thank you, Sarge. They taught us in the academy that the best way to becoming a good cop is to learn what’s going on in your precinct.”

“They were right. If the rest of the rookies are as eager as you, we should have a great group of cops. My name is Sergeant Galvin. I’m your field training sergeant.”

Keegan could see the sergeant straining to read his nameplate as he grew closer. “Nice to meet you Sarge, my name’s Officer Keegan—Tim.”

Galvin walked over to Keegan and gave him a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you as well Tim,” before making his way to the vending machines in the back of the muster room.

Keegan felt that his sergeant seemed nice enough, and a quick study of the amount of medals that he had, signified to Keegan that the sergeant really must know what he was doing. Keegan’s father was considered a highly decorated cop and Galvin had almost twice as many medals as his dad did. The rest of the group of rookies slowly started to file into the room; most notably to Keegan was Cathy Quinn. She had a flustered look on her face, but she was cute nonetheless, he decided. Once again, Quinn set her gear down directly next to Keegan’s just as she had sat next to him during training the previous week.

That’s not a coincidence
, he assured himself.

Keegan sat with the rest of the rookies sharing stories of their experiences at the police academy when Sergeant Galvin gave the command, “Fall in for roll call.”

The officers stood at attention in two rows of five as Galvin stood behind the four foot tall, wooden podium, reading the officers names one by one. Each, including Keegan, responded “Here” when their name was read. To Galvin’s left was an Inspector; to his right was a Lieutenant. Although he had never met him, Keegan was reasonably sure that the Inspector was the precinct commanding officer—Inspector Enton.

Once roll call was completed, Galvin commanded, “Open ranks for inspection.”

The first row took a step forward allowing for room for the supervisors to walk in between the rows of officers. Sergeant Galvin, accompanied by Inspector Enton, walked through the ranks; stopping for a face to face inspection of each officer’s uniform and personal appearance. Keegan held his breath as first Galvin, and then Enton, looked him up and down. He slowly released it after both men had passed.

Once the inspection was completed with no deficiencies, Galvin gave the next commands. “Close ranks,” followed by “at ease.”

Galvin turned the floor over to Inspector Enton. The Commanding Officer welcomed the new officers to the command and then briefly addressed his troops. Keegan was bored by Enton’s words. He’d heard enough speeches and lectures over the last few months to last a life time. As Enton spoke, Keegan found it hard to concentrate. He was staring at the giant NYPD patch on the front of the podium when a ruckus by the front desk caught his attention. Through the large glass windows over Inspector Enton’s shoulders, Keegan could see two uniformed officers escorting a prisoner to the front desk. The man wore his hair in long dreadlocks and was clearly unhappy with his arresting officers. The officers each held the man by an arm as he pushed at the officers with his shoulders. They slammed him against the bar in front of the desk. Other officers quickly went to assist with the agitated man. Galvin closed the blinds and the door, not wanting any distraction for his rookies.

Enton had hardly broke stride as he continued to address the new class of rookies. Keegan was disappointed as he wanted to see what was happening on the other side of the wall. The commotion had seemed to settle down as he could no longer hear any yelling. He looked back at Galvin, trying to distinguish one type of medal from another. Keegan couldn’t help but to wonder how long it would be before he made his first arrest or earned his first medal.

Enton thanked the officers for their attention and stepped away from the podium. Keegan silently thanked God; thinking that maybe now they could finally hit the streets. Galvin thanked the Inspector and walked back behind the podium as Inspector Enton and the lieutenant left the muster room.

*

As nervous as he knew that his rookies were, Tommy Galvin was nervous as well. This was his first day as a supervisor where he would actually be supervising cops. Galvin’s last few days had been assigned as the desk officer, while Lieutenant Shea would disappear into the lieutenant’s locker room for the majority of the tour; only relieving Galvin one hour for meal, and then another half hour later on in the day to give him a much needed break.

Galvin studied the ten officers standing at attention in front of him. They were all in their early to late twenties. Two of them were women, four were African-American, two Hispanic, three Caucasian and one was Asian—a true reflection of the very diverse NYPD. They were all meticulously groomed with pressed uniforms and crisp leather gun belts. Galvin wondered how long their personal appearances would remain as sharp as they were today.

Galvin had done his best to vet the new officers. During his meal hour and breaks, Galvin took advantage of the down time to read through each of their personnel folders and ratings from the police academy. None of them seemed to stand out either in a positive or negative way. The officer who most intrigued Galvin was Timothy Keegan. Galvin knew, for the most part, that the interest was largely in part to the fact that Keegan’s father had been a legendary hero cop, but it wasn’t just that. In Galvin’s ten years on the job, he couldn’t ever recall a rookie on his first day at the precinct going through the wanted posters and taking down notes from the current robbery patterns as he’d witnessed Keegan doing earlier. Galvin had high hopes for Keegan. Galvin felt if Keegan was willing to listen, there was a lot that he would be able to teach his rookie.

“Okay, everybody, Officer Gilbert is waiting by the radio room. I want everyone to go and learn how to sign out a radio and then come back to the muster room.”

As his group of rookies went to get their radios, Galvin thought back to his own first day on patrol—he had walked a foot post on Sutphin Boulevard in Queens. It had been a muggy summer day much like today was. It had rained most of the day keeping the streets quiet until after the rain had finally stopped. The cop on the adjoining foot post made an arrest on his very first day, after picking up a radio run of a family dispute. Galvin went almost four months before he had eventually made his first arrest. It was a fifteen year old for possession of crack cocaine.