The Blue Executions (36 page)

His frustration seemed to fade as he knew
that he would never make that mistake again.  The next time he and Galvin were face to face, he would have the correct ammunition in the gun.  He looked down at the gun, holding it in the palm of his hand—almost worshiping it.  He placed the gun in the pocket of his pajamas and once again laid his head down on the pillow; his thoughts giving way to darkness.

*

Sitting next to Doris Williams was Brian McGregor; her longtime colleague and sometimes rival.  Doris had made sure to get to the Page One Conference Room a half hour early to ensure the best possible seat.  She set her purse on top of the table, careful not to knock over the microphone affixed to the table.  She had draped her tan cardigan sweater over the back of the green and black chair next to her, saving the seat for Brian who’d had no such desire to get there early.  They sat closest to the head of the large oval conference table of the newspaper’s largest room; her excitement was just barely contained.    

She watched as the room slowly began to fill up.  The seats at the conference table went first, then the seats in the gallery to both sides of the room.  The sunlight glaring through the open blinds seemed to laminate against
the white walls. Although there had not been any reason given for the mandatory meeting, she had a pretty good idea what it was about.  Today was the day the finalists were to be named for the 2013 Pulitzer Prizes. 

Her story about the
incident at the South Jamaica station house and the riot that ensued back in July had been picked up by the Associated Press and ran nationally; highlighting the problems of policing in minority neighborhoods.  Having already received some prestigious awards and accolades, she felt the Pulitzer was hers to lose.  In truth to herself, she was not sure if the reason she had wanted to have Brian sitting next to her was more for him to share in her excitement, or for her to rub his nose in the fact that she had been named a finalist for a story which he had called irresponsible journalism.

She
tapped Brian on his knee, giving him a smile as she did.  “This is so exciting Brian.  What do you think it’s about?”

He shook his head.  “I have no idea Doris
, but it looks like we are about to find out.”

She looked back at him, figuring he was being coy—he had to know the finalists were being announced today.  That was common knowledge among journalists.

At ten minutes past noon, the newspaper’s
publisher, William Lyons, entered the room.  In all of her years at the paper, Doris had never laid eyes on the man in person.  He was taller than she believed him to be from the pictures she had seen of him.  He stepped up to the podium; his full head of snow like hair almost glistened off the fluorescent lights in the conference room.  He retrieved a pair of reading glasses from the inside pocket of his light grey, Armani suit.  He seemed to scan the crowd before speaking.  Even though the two had never met, he offered Doris a nod and a smile before he began.  As soon as his deep blue eyes met hers, she knew her suspicions were correct; he had sought her out among the crowd.

“I’d like to thank everyone for being here this afternoon.  This is a historic day for our newspaper. 
We may not be the largest or most well known newspaper in New York but we are a great paper nonetheless.  As I have said time and time again, we are more than a newspaper here…we are a family. And as a family when something wonderful happens, we celebrate as one.  As many of you know, the finalists for the Pulitzer Prize are to be announced later today.  I have received word from the committee that not one, but for us, an unprecedented two of our staff, have been named finalists.”

Two finalists
?

Doris was confused; she was unaware of any other reporter or photographer at the paper having been nominated for the esteemed award.  Her excitement ebbed just a little bit.  She was still excited as she was sure to have been one of the nominees but a little disappointed to have to share the glory.  She glanced around the room as her boss continued to speak. 
But who?

“At this time
, I would like to have Doris Williams join me here at the podium.”

There was a round of applause from the audience.  She nervously
smoothed her light brown dress against her legs before getting up and walking to the podium.  She gave a somewhat sheepish smile to the audience as she took a place standing to the left of the publisher before he continued. 

“Doris has been named a finalist in the Commentary category.  Her expose on police-minority relations opened the eyes in New York
City as well as many large cities throughout the nation.  Her firsthand account of the riot in South Jamaica was published nationwide and served as a spring board to her series of articles, where over the past few months she has traveled the country visiting five other major cities.  The mayor’s of Los Angeles, Chicago, Detroit, Newark and Miami all sent her letters of recognition for her hard work in their respective cities. 

Here, in New York City, her
series of articles has led to reform and more sensitivity training for police officers both in the Police Academy and those already on the streets.  It is rare that a member of the press has such an impact on real issue rather than just reports on them.”

Mr. Lyons placed a gentle hand on her shoulder
; a chill ran down her spine.  Doris felt an intense satisfaction; the feeling was unparalleled, seeing her hard work recognized.  He continued, “In all my years in the newspaper business, I can honestly say that I have never before seen a finalist that I was surer will take the prize.  It is an honor to have you on our staff.” 

He offered her his hand.  “Thank you so much, Mr. Lyons.”

As excited as she was, the curiosity was eating away at her.  She sat back down at her seat; McGregor was quick to give her a hug.  “Congratulations, Doris.  I’m so happy for you.”

She whispered
.  ”Thank you Brian,” as Lyons continued.

“As I said, this is truly an unprecedented day for
our newspaper.  I have never in my professional career been more proud of this newspaper than I am today.  I would ask Brian McGregor to join me here at the podium.”

She turned to Brian with a big smile and applauded with the rest of the staff. 
Brian? Really?
  She had mixed emotions; she was happy for him but she also felt like he was stealing her moment.  Watching him walk up to the podium, she became slightly annoyed that he had never told her that he had been nominated by the paper for the award.  Still, she knew that she had to keep her most supportive smile on her face.

She watched as Lyons shook hands with Brian as he began.  “Brian McGregor has not only been reporting the Blue Executioner story but has been inserted into it.  His work has been instrumental to the NYPD in trying to track down the killer.  His detective skills have even trumped the best detectives the NYPD has to offer
, as
he
is the one to inform
them
that they had the wrong man in custody.  He has been named a finalist in the field of Investigatory Reporting.”

Lyons looked back at Doris, pointing at her.  “I can’t say as that I am as confident that Brian will win in his field as I am that Doris will win hers.  But I will say
this; if the police arrest the right man before the winners are announced next month, there is a real good chance I will see you both at the luncheon at Columbia University.”

Lyons asked Doris, as well as John Pantangelo, the
executive editor of the paper, to join him and McGregor at the podium.  Pantangelo stood to his right, while McGregor and Williams flanked the pair on either side.

“Reporting, just as in life, gets rewarded for not only hard work but also fortunate circumstances.  We have two of our reporters here, whose stories standing alone, I believe are good enough to win the Pulitzer in each of their categories.  The irony is, had it not been for the Pulitzer Prize committee moving the date back to
September instead of April, neither of these great stories would have been eligible this year.  You see, not only do we have two great reporters and two great series of stories; we also have fate working on our side.  I don’t see how we don’t win in
both
categories.”

There was a polite round of applause from the audience as Lyons motioned for a photographer to come forward.  The group posed for a variety of pictures before the
meeting dispersed.  Once the crowd thinned out and after shaking close to a hundred hands, Doris put her arm in McGregor’s as they walked back towards the newsroom.

“So why didn’t you tell me
that they put you in for the Investigative Reporting award?”

McGregor shrugged his shoulders.  “Honestly Doris, I never thought
that I had a shot to make it to the finals.  I didn’t choose the story—the Blue Executioner sought me out.  The only reason that the paper put me in for the award is because it’s receiving national attention; not because of the quality of my writing.  I don’t deserve to be nominated…you on the other hand.  I’m so happy for you.  Your stories have truly made a difference; the fallout of your articles has had consequences nationally.  Mr. Lyons is right; you’ve already won, regardless of what the Pulitzer committee has to say.”

McGregor’s comments were genuine and heartfelt, she believed.  Her initial reaction to McGregor having not told her about the nomination
was that he was intentionally hiding it from her; she now realized his explanation was genuine.  She respected him for being so honest with her.

Doris felt it was her turn to be supportive.  “Don’t be crazy Brian; your writing and the story itself are amazing.  Did you hear what our publisher said?  You trumped the best detectives in New York City.
Be proud of yourself.  You deserve to be in the finals as much as anyone else…myself included.”

“Thank you Doris, that means a lot to me.”

###########################

Chapter 20

Pat Dempsey’s first day assigned to the Blue Executioner Task Force was not the thrill it once would have been.  He was looking forward to working a real case again
; not just pushing paper and doing background checks on Police Officer Candidates.  Having as much time on the job as he did (and having been treated the way he had been), there was little that could repair his feelings towards the job.

H
e had almost fallen off of his chair yesterday morning when Chief Edward Courtney had called him and asked him to come aboard the task force.  Dempsey had half a mind to tell the Chief of Department off and decline his offer, but he decided against it.  Not only had Chief Courtney apologized—something he was not known for doing—but he realized that Tommy’s life was in legitimate danger.  If he could help work and eventually help close the case, that would be reward enough.

Dempsey painstakingly read through each and every item in the case folder.  He read over the initial complaint reports as well as each of the
DD5’s
, or complaint follow ups, which listed every detailed investigative measure that each detective had done during the investigation.  He examined crime scene photos and sketches and finally the handwritten letters the Blue Executioner had sent to the reporter.  A chill ran down his spine as he read the killer’s chilling words. 
It’s always in the small details.
He nodded his head knowingly just as a familiar voice broke his train of thought.

“Hey Uncle Pat, welcome aboard.”

Dempsey stood up and threw his arms around Galvin.  They two men tightly embraced.  “Hey Tommy, how are you holding up?”

“I’m doing fine Uncle Pat.”  Galvin motioned towards the case folder sprawled across the desk, next to the half eaten
corn muffin and cup of coffee.  “I see you didn’t waste any time familiarizing yourself with the case.”

Dempsey raised his eyebrows.  “What did I teach you about being a detective?
  A good detective…”

Galvin cut him off with a smile…”will know the case inside and out.  He will know all of the ins and outs of the case.  It’s all in the details.”

Dempsey smiled back. 
I wasn’t sure he was listening to me all of those years until now
.  “Exactly, Tommy, and this case is no different—trust me.”

Dempsey walked over to an adjacent desk and rolled the black leather chair over to his, motioning for Galvin to sit next to him.  Dempsey set the coffee and
corn muffin aside, spreading the case folder to the center so both men would be able to see it.  “Have you looked at these letters carefully?”

“Of course Uncle Pat; I went over every inch of this case folder just like you taught me.  I read each letter at least a dozen times.  I was hoping fresh eyes would see something the others
had missed, but they didn’t.”

“Forget about reading them Tommy, did you study them?  Do you know them like the back of your hand…the small details and nuances?  Is he educated and well spoken
or poorly educated and illiterate; is he left handed or right handed?  There is way more to be learned in the writing than there is in what is written sometimes.”