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Authors: George Norris
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fight. Thomas kicked the man in the head just as the shot was fired.
*
Tommy Galvin’s mouth went instantly dry when he heard a single gunshot in the distance. He futilely drove the car up and down Linden Boulevard where Police Officer’s Timothy Galvin and Andre Thomas were assigned. There was no sign of either of them. Galvin realized that the two rookie officers in his backseat probably hadn’t even recognized the sound to be a gunshot. Galvin began frantically driving up and down the side streets, seeking his officers, who he now believed may be in a life and death situation.
*
Once the shot had been fired, Timothy Keegan and Andre Thomas managed to wrestle the gun away from the man, knocking it from his hands. Once disarmed, the man still squirmed and resisted arrest, but was no match for the younger and more physically fit officers. He was quickly overpowered and placed under arrest. With the man now in handcuffs, Keegan looked over to his partner. “You okay, Andre?” through shallow breath.
“Yeah, I’m good; you?”
Keegan nodded as he caught his breath. “Never better.”
Keegan looked at the handgun on the sidewalk then at the bullet hole on the Honda minivan parked on the corner behind him. Keegan realized that it had been a close call…too close. Still, he was proud of himself. He felt that his father must have been there looking over him.
Keegan and Thomas stood the prisoner up so that they could search him better and make sure that he had no other weapons on him, just like they were taught in the police academy. Keegan could hear his Police Science instructor’s voice in his head; ‘ Don’t stop searching after you find a gun—there may be a second one as well.’
The man was now compliant in every manner. As Keegan was searching him, the man looked Keegan in the eyes. They were sad; his spirit clearly broken. “Officer, why couldn’t you have just killed me?”
Keegan ignored the comment. The man may have been depressed for having been caught, but Keegan was elated. He had just effected his first, of what he knew in his heart, would be many arrests throughout his career. He was proud of himself and knew that his father would have been as well. Keegan picked up his portable radio. “Six-Seven Training Post Eight to central; be advised I have one under. Can you have the training sergeant respond?”
It was then where Keegan’s pride morphed into embarrassment. “Where the fuck are you!?” was screamed into the radio.
He knew it wasn’t his sergeant’s voice; it was one of the sector cars who had been desperately trying to find them since he broadcast the foot pursuit. Keegan had been so careful to broadcast a good description that he forgot something even more important—to let the units in the field know your location when you’re in trouble. It was a lesson that Keegan was sure to never forget.
Chapter 4
Timothy Keegan parked his car in front of a parking meter along Jericho Turnpike in the New Hyde Park section of Long Island. As it was after ten pm, there was no need to worry about coins for the meter. He grabbed his jacket from the seat next to him as he got out of the car. It was a rather cool night; cooler than normal for early October, believed Keegan.
Keegan jogged across the busy road, thinking back to his childhood and how often he’d been in this very neighborhood before his grandmother had passed away almost fifteen years ago now. Keegan had spent every Sunday at his grandmother’s house, which was less than half a mile from where he stood right now. He could remember walking along the store fronts with his family in the spring time and playing football with his father and older brother in his grandmother’s backyard in the fall.
This would’ve been perfect football weather , he thought as he zipped up his jacket.
Keegan opened up the door to the Irish pub and walked inside. He sought out any members of his squad, wondering if he’d been the first to
*
Tommy Galvin’s mouth went instantly dry when he heard a single gunshot in the distance. He futilely drove the car up and down Linden Boulevard where Police Officer’s Timothy Galvin and Andre Thomas were assigned. There was no sign of either of them. Galvin realized that the two rookie officers in his backseat probably hadn’t even recognized the sound to be a gunshot. Galvin began frantically driving up and down the side streets, seeking his officers, who he now believed may be in a life and death situation.
*
Once the shot had been fired, Timothy Keegan and Andre Thomas managed to wrestle the gun away from the man, knocking it from his hands. Once disarmed, the man still squirmed and resisted arrest, but was no match for the younger and more physically fit officers. He was quickly overpowered and placed under arrest. With the man now in handcuffs, Keegan looked over to his partner. “You okay, Andre?” through shallow breath.
“Yeah, I’m good; you?”
Keegan nodded as he caught his breath. “Never better.”
Keegan looked at the handgun on the sidewalk then at the bullet hole on the Honda minivan parked on the corner behind him. Keegan realized that it had been a close call…too close. Still, he was proud of himself. He felt that his father must have been there looking over him.
Keegan and Thomas stood the prisoner up so that they could search him better and make sure that he had no other weapons on him, just like they were taught in the police academy. Keegan could hear his Police Science instructor’s voice in his head; ‘ Don’t stop searching after you find a gun—there may be a second one as well.’
The man was now compliant in every manner. As Keegan was searching him, the man looked Keegan in the eyes. They were sad; his spirit clearly broken. “Officer, why couldn’t you have just killed me?”
Keegan ignored the comment. The man may have been depressed for having been caught, but Keegan was elated. He had just effected his first, of what he knew in his heart, would be many arrests throughout his career. He was proud of himself and knew that his father would have been as well. Keegan picked up his portable radio. “Six-Seven Training Post Eight to central; be advised I have one under. Can you have the training sergeant respond?”
It was then where Keegan’s pride morphed into embarrassment. “Where the fuck are you!?” was screamed into the radio.
He knew it wasn’t his sergeant’s voice; it was one of the sector cars who had been desperately trying to find them since he broadcast the foot pursuit. Keegan had been so careful to broadcast a good description that he forgot something even more important—to let the units in the field know your location when you’re in trouble. It was a lesson that Keegan was sure to never forget.
Chapter 4
Timothy Keegan parked his car in front of a parking meter along Jericho Turnpike in the New Hyde Park section of Long Island. As it was after ten pm, there was no need to worry about coins for the meter. He grabbed his jacket from the seat next to him as he got out of the car. It was a rather cool night; cooler than normal for early October, believed Keegan.
Keegan jogged across the busy road, thinking back to his childhood and how often he’d been in this very neighborhood before his grandmother had passed away almost fifteen years ago now. Keegan had spent every Sunday at his grandmother’s house, which was less than half a mile from where he stood right now. He could remember walking along the store fronts with his family in the spring time and playing football with his father and older brother in his grandmother’s backyard in the fall.
This would’ve been perfect football weather , he thought as he zipped up his jacket.
Keegan opened up the door to the Irish pub and walked inside. He sought out any members of his squad, wondering if he’d been the first to
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