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Authors: George Norris
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scrapbook would contain all of his letters of Commendation, details about his medals, some newspaper articles, and—of course—photos of him shaking hands with various mayors and police commissioners at numerous promotion ceremonies. However, it did not. Due to another’s incompetence, he had to find a new way to fight crime—but nonetheless, he would fight crime; his own way.
He read the letter on the first page, the letter that he’d read hundreds of times. It was dated October 17 th , 2012.
Dear Police Officer Candidate Michael Un derhill,
Congratulations on your selection of choosing a career with the New York City Police Department. You have passed the first step by passing the written examination. You are hereby directed to report to one Lefrak Plaza on November 10 th , 2012 for a mini-medical examination. Good luck.
The letter was signed by the commanding officer of the recruitment section.
Michael Underhill’s hands were throbbing from the scalding he’d inflicted on them the previous night. He removed his NYPD ring, which had become a fixture on his right hand, in an attempted to relieve the irritation the ring was causing. He studied the gold ring—it was in the shape of a miniature police officer’s shield, but the spot where an officer’s shield number would be affixed was blank. He bought it the day of his written examination. It had been ridiculously easy; it was no surprise to him when he found out that he’d scored a perfect one hundred percent. He’d decided to have his shield number affixed to the ring the day that he would be sworn in.
He grew angry, as he always did, when he thought of how he’d passed the written examination and the medical exams—but had been disqualified from becoming a New York City Police Officer, all the same. They’d told him that he’d failed the psychological examination, both the written and the oral. He knew this to be false, so how could they have lied to him like that? Either the psychologist had been faulty in her work, or she’d recognized his superior intellect and been jealous enough to sabotage his scores. Her incompetence was a definite possibility; after all, she’d asked him the most nonsensical questions during the interview. However, he felt that the most likely scenario was that the police department recognized his superiority and greatness, and worrying that they would appear worthless in comparison, disqualified him.
It was probably a large-scale conspiracy , from his candidate investigator at the Applicant Investigation Unit, to the psychologist, all the way up to the Police Commissioner. Once they came to their senses, they’d realize that his superior intellect would greatly benefit the department and they would overturn his disqualification on appeal. He was told that this process could take up to a year or more, so he had decided to fight crime with a different approach while he waited.
He turned the pages of the scrapbook, examining the many articles that he’d cut out since then. The articles all involved cops—either cops receiving various accolades or cops who had been arrested or indicted. It was deplorable—since he’d begun to cut out the articles less than two years ago—dozens of cops had been arrested in New York City. He had followed each and every case as carefully as he could through the newspapers, accessing the New York State Courts system web page and even on occasion, going to the courthouse to watch the legal proceedings in person.
He thumbed through the book until he came to the article concerning Police Officer Daniel Long’s arrest and indictment on charges of murder in 2010. He glanced at the photo of Long, accompanying the article. He hadn’t changed a bit—at least, up until last night, when Underhill had snuffed out his life with three cop-killer bullets at close range. Underhill felt no remorse. Long did not deserve to be a police officer. Furthermore, anyone who would shoot an unarmed youth to
He read the letter on the first page, the letter that he’d read hundreds of times. It was dated October 17 th , 2012.
Dear Police Officer Candidate Michael Un derhill,
Congratulations on your selection of choosing a career with the New York City Police Department. You have passed the first step by passing the written examination. You are hereby directed to report to one Lefrak Plaza on November 10 th , 2012 for a mini-medical examination. Good luck.
The letter was signed by the commanding officer of the recruitment section.
Michael Underhill’s hands were throbbing from the scalding he’d inflicted on them the previous night. He removed his NYPD ring, which had become a fixture on his right hand, in an attempted to relieve the irritation the ring was causing. He studied the gold ring—it was in the shape of a miniature police officer’s shield, but the spot where an officer’s shield number would be affixed was blank. He bought it the day of his written examination. It had been ridiculously easy; it was no surprise to him when he found out that he’d scored a perfect one hundred percent. He’d decided to have his shield number affixed to the ring the day that he would be sworn in.
He grew angry, as he always did, when he thought of how he’d passed the written examination and the medical exams—but had been disqualified from becoming a New York City Police Officer, all the same. They’d told him that he’d failed the psychological examination, both the written and the oral. He knew this to be false, so how could they have lied to him like that? Either the psychologist had been faulty in her work, or she’d recognized his superior intellect and been jealous enough to sabotage his scores. Her incompetence was a definite possibility; after all, she’d asked him the most nonsensical questions during the interview. However, he felt that the most likely scenario was that the police department recognized his superiority and greatness, and worrying that they would appear worthless in comparison, disqualified him.
It was probably a large-scale conspiracy , from his candidate investigator at the Applicant Investigation Unit, to the psychologist, all the way up to the Police Commissioner. Once they came to their senses, they’d realize that his superior intellect would greatly benefit the department and they would overturn his disqualification on appeal. He was told that this process could take up to a year or more, so he had decided to fight crime with a different approach while he waited.
He turned the pages of the scrapbook, examining the many articles that he’d cut out since then. The articles all involved cops—either cops receiving various accolades or cops who had been arrested or indicted. It was deplorable—since he’d begun to cut out the articles less than two years ago—dozens of cops had been arrested in New York City. He had followed each and every case as carefully as he could through the newspapers, accessing the New York State Courts system web page and even on occasion, going to the courthouse to watch the legal proceedings in person.
He thumbed through the book until he came to the article concerning Police Officer Daniel Long’s arrest and indictment on charges of murder in 2010. He glanced at the photo of Long, accompanying the article. He hadn’t changed a bit—at least, up until last night, when Underhill had snuffed out his life with three cop-killer bullets at close range. Underhill felt no remorse. Long did not deserve to be a police officer. Furthermore, anyone who would shoot an unarmed youth to
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