Chapter 10 Chapter VII

"Gravedigger" Johns was sleeping soundly. His wife shook him: "There is a call. It's Captain Bryce." "Gravedigger" Johns rubbed his eyes to drive away his drowsiness.While on duty, all his senses are permanently alert. "Coffin Bucket" Ed once concluded: "Blink once and you're dead." "Gravedigger" Jorns added: "Blink again 'Coffin Bucket'." But at home, "Gravedigger" Johns is completely relaxed.His wife sometimes even called him "Slow Doctor".He picked up the phone sleepily, and said angrily, "What happened now?"

Captain Bryce is a disciplined man.He always kept a certain distance from his subordinates and was impartial.Harlem was under his jurisdiction, and "Gravedigger" Johns and "Coffin Bucket" Ed were naturally under his management, but since they were both on duty at night, they rarely saw each other. "Jack Cubansky is dead," he said flatly. "I have orders to report to the chief's office at nine o'clock." "Gravedigger" Johns suddenly woke up. "Has Ed been notified, too?" "Yes. I wished you had time to come here and discuss it first, but the order has come down. So you'd better report directly to Center Street."

"Gravedigger" Johns looked at his watch. It was ten past eight. "Yes, sir," he said, and hung up. His wife looked at him worriedly. "Are you in trouble?" "not yet." That didn't answer her question, but she had learned not to push him. "Gravedigger" Johns and "Coffin Bucket" Ed both lived in Astoria, Long Island, just two blocks apart. Ed "Coffin Bucket" waited in his new Plymouth car. "I'm afraid it's going to be another hot day," he greeted. "Then let it burn as long as it can," said "Gravedigger" Johns.

Everyone was wearing only shirts. Chief, Deputy Chief, Criminal Chief, Assistant District Attorney, Assistant Medical Examiner, Captain Bryce and Deputy Captain Anderson for the Harlem District, and three firefighters and two Patrol police.The hearing was held in a hollow great room in the headquarters extension building, across the street from the headquarters building.The meeting was called at nine fifty-five; it is eleven thirty. The strong yellow light of the sun slanted in from the three windows facing Central Street, and the room was extremely hot. Because of Jack's sudden death, the prosecution filed charges of "improper use of violence" against the gravedigger Johns and Ed "Coffin Bucket".

Firstly, the assistant medical examiner put forward the autopsy results, which showed that Jack died because of a severe external blow to the abdomen, which caused the spleen to rupture.The forensic laboratory said that the deceased should have been kicked in the abdomen or continuously beaten with a heavy blunt object. "I didn't strike that hard." "Gravedigger" Johns sat up and defended, leaning on the window sill with one big hand. "Coffin Bucket" Ed leaned his back against the wall on the shady side of the room, and said nothing. The director raised his hand to signal silence.

Lieutenant Anderson dictated the report of the two detectives and produced a copy of the page of the precinct's temporary register that contained the incident. Captain Bryce detailed the scope of work of the two detectives, saying that they were ordered to maintain law and order in all frequent accident locations in Harlem during the night. Three firefighters and two patrol chiefs reluctantly testified that they did witness "Gravedigger" Jorns punching the victim's stomach while Ed "Coffin Bucket" pulled the victim's arm behind his back and clasped it . Then, "Gravedigger" Johns and "Coffin Bucket" Ed stood on the witness stand and defended themselves.

"We just follow a routine," said "Gravedigger" Joens. "When drug dealers are selling drugs on the street, arresting them is a matter of course. They put drugs in small packages that are easy to destroy. Arrest them as criminals while they still have that crap on them, or swear to see them destroy the drugs. So when the cops approach the dealer and the dealer finds there's no way to throw it away, he puts it in his mouth and eats it Drop. The dealers carry some kind of laxative with them to take later, and your evidence flows in with it..." A smile spread across the chief's face.

"You know they've been selling drugs, you've seen them, but you just can't get the evidence," "Gravedigger" Johns continued, "so Ed and I took the evidence before they took the drugs." Use this method to get them to spit out the evidence before the catastrophe.” Regarding the word he used "a thousand miles away", the director smiled slightly again. "However, if we allow this kind of behavior, how can we stop the police from beating the stomach of a drunk driving suspect?" commented the Assistant District Attorney. "No," replied "Gravedigger" Jorns in a rough voice, "if he kills someone, we'll beat him."

"You seem to have forgotten that you are supposed to be a policeman maintaining law and order," the assistant district attorney reminded him. "Your main duty is to maintain law and order, and punishing criminals is a matter for the courts." "Public security at what price?" Ed "Coffin Bucket" interjected. And "Gravedigger" Johns answered in a thick tone: "Do you think that if criminals go unpunished, this city will be safe?" The Assistant District Attorney blushed. "That's not the point," he said sharply. "You killed a petty criminal suspect and not in self-defense."

Suddenly, the room was filled with tension. "You said that drug trafficking is a misdemeanor?" "Gravedigger" Johns got up angrily as he spoke. At the sound of his thick, rough voice, all eyes in the room turned to him.In rage, his carotid artery protruded, and the veins in his temples trembled. His voice sounded like it was oozing from absorbent cotton: "All the crimes committed because of drug addiction - robberies, murders, rapes...all those lives that are screwed up, all those crimes committed because of drug addiction And ruined good boy - twenty-one days on heroin and you're addicted for life.... God, sir, a scumbag can kill more people than Hitler. And you call it a 'misdemeanor'!"

The assistant district attorney blushed. "He's just a drug dealer," he stated. "And who put the drugs into the victim's blood?" "Gravedigger" Jones cursed. "He's the drug dealer! He sells the filthy crap, he injects people and makes them addicted. He's the one who gets them down. He reads his words and then he puts drugs in their hands He sees them degenerate from good people to scum, sees them lose weight. He makes them steal, kill, young girls into prostitution - just to get money for drugs. I see it every day Catch this simple violent murderer." "Let's put it this way," Ed "Coffin Bucket" tried to reassure both parties. "I'm sure you all know how these big and notorious drug lords work. They buy drugs from overseas at $5,000 a kilo -- that's two pounds and three ounces -- and now they're mostly buying Heroin, and most of it is bought from Marseilles, France, and the French side seems powerless to stop this circulation. After the drugs are transported to New York, wholesalers buy them at prices ranging from 15,000 to 20,000 U.S. dollars per kilogram. The clerks can't seem to catch them. Next, the wholesaler dilutes the product, which is about 80% pure, and adds enough lactose or quinine to reduce the purity to 2%. This is total shit but that's what the dealers sell. half a million dollars a kilo, you all know that, but who's going to stop it? jones and i can only do it in our district Just catching drug dealers. Now, a drug dealer got hurt—” "It's dead." The assistant forensic doctor corrected it. "By accident," Ed "Coffin Bucket" corrected the phrase. "If that's how he died. For all we know, he might have been trampled to death after the commotion last night." The chief raised his head. "What commotion?" "Fire crews tried to detain a man who was slipping away and falsely calling the police." "Oh, that thing." He glanced at Deputy Captain Anderson, then glanced at the blushing firefighter. "We intend to prosecute these two detectives," the assistant district attorney stated. "Police violence in Harlem is so severe that the public is complaining." The chief pressed his fingertips together and leaned back in his chair. "Give us time to investigate in more detail," he said. The Assistant District Attorney was reluctant. "What further investigation is needed? They have all admitted to beating the dead." The chief of police ignored him. "In the meantime, Detectives Jonsson and Jonsson, you are temporarily suspended until further notice. Captain Bryce," he said, tilting his head slightly, "return their badges. and removed from the team." On the swollen face of "Gravedigger" Jons, the area around the mouth turned gray; the skin graft on Ed "Coffin Bucket"'s face twitched and trembled. When they stood outside in the scorching sun, "Gravedigger" Johns said to their friend, Deputy Captain Anderson, "It turned out to be so." "Just for a bastard drug dealer." "It's just the pressure of news reporting. We're suffering from the usual summer news off-season. It'll subside after a while." Vice-captain Anderson reassured them. Don't worry, it'll be all right." "Yeah, humanitarian," "Gravedigger" Johns said disapprovingly, "it's okay to kill some colored people who want to educate their children, but it's okay to hurt a fucking white punk who sells drugs He deserves death." Vice Captain Anderson was taken aback.Although he was used to the racial insinuation in the words of the two black detectives, it hurt.