Read Online The Blue Executions by George Norris - Free Book Online
Authors: George Norris
Ads: Link
eyewitnesses had yet to come forward. A phone number was supplied and urged anybody with information to call. Galvin was so disturbed by the death of a brother officer that he never even looked at the article written by Brian McGregor detailing the ride along.
Galvin then logged into another site; it was a blog by New York City cops that he often posted on. He hoped there would be more detailed information on that site than what the newspapers had to offer. Much to his disappointment, it did not. After logging out, Galvin turned on the television which sat on his beige dresser opposite the bed. He retrieved clothes for the day and decided to take a shower. He’d learn more details about the homicide once he got to his precinct.
*
The sunlight crept through a partially open blind, waking the man on the couch from his deep sleep. He felt exuberant. He wasn’t sure if it had been from the excitement of last night’s mission, or if he had just needed a good night’s sleep. After relieving himself, he washed his hands; they were still extremely raw from their vigorous scrubbing the night before. He looked around his apartment, picking up the bullets he’d left on the floor and placing them in his pocket; finding it hard to believe that he had dumped them on the floor in the first place. He spread yesterday’s mutilated newspaper down on the table. After retrieving the gun from the couch, he brought it over to the table and carefully cleaned it. Once the gun was spotless, he cradled it in his arms and mentally thanked it for a job well done.
It was before seven a.m.; he hoped that his morning newspaper had arrived. He was excited, wondering if he had made the front page—he must have, he figured. He opened the front door of his apartment, and sure enough, there was the paper—with the sports page up. While he wasn’t interested in the slightest in the Knick’s narrow overtime victory the night before, he hesitated before turning the paper over to see the headlines, like a child who didn’t want to open his Christmas present and end the surprise. He picked up the newspaper without turning it over, and brought it—along with his scrapbook—to the table. Slowly, he turned over the paper and was pleased to read the headline…his headline.
COP SHOT
He was, however, enraged that his accomplishment was sharing the front page with a photo of thousands of police officers saluting the casket of P.O. John Casey. Why would the papers do that to him? How dare they share the headlines with old news such as Casey’s funeral? In his rage, he never saw the connection. As far as he was concerned, there was no similarity between the two incidents.
Carefully, he cut out each article concerning the slain officers. They were both worthy of the scrapbook. He skimmed through the paper, looking for any articles that might be suitable, when he came across an article written by Brian McGregor. The man had read McGregor’s articles in the past and found him to be fair. The article detailed how McGregor had ridden along with two plainclothes officers from a South Jamaica precinct. The article praised the officers as compassionate and fair to everyone they came in contact with, even those who had been previously arrested. It further depicted how they had been street smart and observant during the events of the McDonald’s robbery, which was detailed in such a dramatic fashion, that it felt like a novel as opposed to an article. After reading the article, the man cut that article out as well. It was a shame that McGregor had never mentioned the officers’ names, though. Now the man would never know the identities of those heroes.
The man then opened his scrapbook. The type of memorabilia it featured was not exactly what he’d thought it would be during his career as a police officer. It consisted almost exclusively of newspaper articles once you got past the first couple of pages. The man had once envisioned that his
Galvin then logged into another site; it was a blog by New York City cops that he often posted on. He hoped there would be more detailed information on that site than what the newspapers had to offer. Much to his disappointment, it did not. After logging out, Galvin turned on the television which sat on his beige dresser opposite the bed. He retrieved clothes for the day and decided to take a shower. He’d learn more details about the homicide once he got to his precinct.
*
The sunlight crept through a partially open blind, waking the man on the couch from his deep sleep. He felt exuberant. He wasn’t sure if it had been from the excitement of last night’s mission, or if he had just needed a good night’s sleep. After relieving himself, he washed his hands; they were still extremely raw from their vigorous scrubbing the night before. He looked around his apartment, picking up the bullets he’d left on the floor and placing them in his pocket; finding it hard to believe that he had dumped them on the floor in the first place. He spread yesterday’s mutilated newspaper down on the table. After retrieving the gun from the couch, he brought it over to the table and carefully cleaned it. Once the gun was spotless, he cradled it in his arms and mentally thanked it for a job well done.
It was before seven a.m.; he hoped that his morning newspaper had arrived. He was excited, wondering if he had made the front page—he must have, he figured. He opened the front door of his apartment, and sure enough, there was the paper—with the sports page up. While he wasn’t interested in the slightest in the Knick’s narrow overtime victory the night before, he hesitated before turning the paper over to see the headlines, like a child who didn’t want to open his Christmas present and end the surprise. He picked up the newspaper without turning it over, and brought it—along with his scrapbook—to the table. Slowly, he turned over the paper and was pleased to read the headline…his headline.
COP SHOT
He was, however, enraged that his accomplishment was sharing the front page with a photo of thousands of police officers saluting the casket of P.O. John Casey. Why would the papers do that to him? How dare they share the headlines with old news such as Casey’s funeral? In his rage, he never saw the connection. As far as he was concerned, there was no similarity between the two incidents.
Carefully, he cut out each article concerning the slain officers. They were both worthy of the scrapbook. He skimmed through the paper, looking for any articles that might be suitable, when he came across an article written by Brian McGregor. The man had read McGregor’s articles in the past and found him to be fair. The article detailed how McGregor had ridden along with two plainclothes officers from a South Jamaica precinct. The article praised the officers as compassionate and fair to everyone they came in contact with, even those who had been previously arrested. It further depicted how they had been street smart and observant during the events of the McDonald’s robbery, which was detailed in such a dramatic fashion, that it felt like a novel as opposed to an article. After reading the article, the man cut that article out as well. It was a shame that McGregor had never mentioned the officers’ names, though. Now the man would never know the identities of those heroes.
The man then opened his scrapbook. The type of memorabilia it featured was not exactly what he’d thought it would be during his career as a police officer. It consisted almost exclusively of newspaper articles once you got past the first couple of pages. The man had once envisioned that his
Similar Books
