"Misguided Justice" (Strangers, Brothers, Detectives)

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Someone has murdered Detective Luke Fisher's brother. After completing the heist case at 59th & Columbus Circle, Fisher receives a call from his Captain who informs him of his brother's death.Detective Fisher must now team up with his partner Detective Deborah Lane and a homicide specialist by the name of Frank Matthews as they attempt to seek the killer behind the heinous crime. However, during the case, Fisher must deal with the inner fact that he had become a stranger to his brother Jake. This is homicidal business at it's finest about strangers, brothers, and detectives.

Submitted: August 24, 2012

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Submitted: August 24, 2012

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Kevin Anglade Presents:

Misguided Justice” (Strangers, Brothers, Detectives)

 

Detective Fisher was in a daze. He felt as if

someone had knocked the wind out of him. As he managed to look

at the three gunshot wounds upon the fractured skull of his dead

 brother lying on the sofa, he somehow managed to fight

back tears. Detective Frank Matthews whom Fisher hadn’t known too

well but had obviously recognized from the Homicide

department tried to console him.

“We’re going to find the one who did this to him Fisher, mark my

words,” he said.
 

“I know we didn’t talk much but that was still my brother,” said

Fisher.

“I understand,” said Matthews.  He then continued,

“That’s why I was eager to take this case, homicide is my field

of expertise and I have always  had the upmost respect for you Fisher.”

“I truly appreciate that Matthews. He did 8 years for a drug

bust back in 93’ and had just been released from Sing Sing,”

said Fisher, in an unusually dry voice that didn’t resemble his

own.

 As they waited for the medical examiner to arrive Matthews took

one last hard look at the dead body of the lifeless Jake Fisher.

“You know this is it for me?” asked Matthews.

“What is?” asked Detective Fisher.

“I’m sixty five now, and I’ll be getting my pension real soon.

It’s time for me to call it quits. But, I thought nothing would be

better than helping out a detective in whom I

truly respect before I hang it up.”

“That means a lot to me Matthews, but if you’ll excuse me I’m

going outside to see if the medical examiner has arrived.”

“Go right ahead,” said Matthews.

“I’m going to check if the suspect might’ve left anything of

value,” he added.

As both men nodded in agreement, Fisher left the apartment and

stood outside of the buildings entrance.

In that moment he quickly took out a cigarette and began to self-indulge in his

thoughts.  As he looked around, he quickly absorbed the setting

of the Bedford-Stuyvesant project. At one point, he himself

was headed down the same path as the current criminals and drug dealers

of the neighborhood. At the age of twenty two after a near death

experience with fellow street runners, he had finally thought

enough was enough and had decided that the hustler lifestyle

wasn’t for him. As Fisher exhaled from his cigarette,

he thought on how his brother, released from prison earlier in

the year had decided to turn his life around. Fisher would

forever admire his late brother for this. The one problem was

that it had been a little too late.

 Fisher took one last puff of his cigarette and was in the midst of extinguishing it with his

foot when Captain Gordon of the 23rd precinct on Parkside avenue

had arrived.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

Fisher had pangs of anxiety, he hadn’t slept in days, and to his

dismay, had found out that his brother had been murdered.

“I’ve had better days,” he said, in one final exhale of

cigarette smoke.

“This is Paul Sanders by the way, our medical examiner,” said

Gordon.

Dr. Sanders then extended an arm, both men shook hands.

“Sorry to hear about your brother,” he said, in a deeply compassionate manner.

“It’s alright, thanks for the concern,” said Fisher mutually.

Without another word Sanders left the two men facing each other

while he made strides towards the apartment.

 In that moment, the chilly November wind swept up the leaves and blew them violently in front

of the apartment complex. It was a good while before either men spoke.

“Look Fisher, if there’s anything I can do please don’t hesitate

to ask,” said Gordon in a brisk manner.

“I do have one request,” said Fisher.

“Shoot,” fired Gordon.

“I’d love to have Detective Deborah Lane on the case with me.

I know she isn’t part of the homicide department as well as I for that matter, but she is a

hard-boiled detective that hasn’t failed in any case that we’ve

ever done. I need her,” said Fisher.

“You do know that Matthews won’t be too happy with the matter but

consider it done,” said Gordon.

“No disrespect to Matthews Cap, he’s one of the best, but I’ve

never worked with him and for a case that I consider extremely

personal, past chemistry with the likes of Mrs. Lane will be

important,” said Fisher.

“I completely understand,” Gordon responded.

“Well, I’m going home. I promised Jennifer that I would be at the apartment early tonight.

Lately I’ve been stressed and now having to deal with this she’s really worried about

me,” said Fisher.

Captain Gordon didn’t hesitate once.

“Get some rest,” he advised.

“If anything comes up I’ll be sure to ring your cell,” he assured Fisher.

 Without further hesitation, Fisher quickly got into his red 98’

BMW and took off. As he crossed Flatlands avenue on his way to

his Canarsie condo on East 54th, he couldn’t help but think that

his brother’s death was his fault. After Jake had been released

from prison earlier in the year, he had come to Luke asking for

a place to live. Luke wasn’t sure that his brother had

changed and thought better of it.  After turning his brother down, they

hadn’t spoken since March. The least he could do now in respect to his memory was to find his

killer.

The crimson red 98’ BMW had now come to a complete halt in front of

his apartment complex. As Fisher rummaged his house key into the

lock and opened the door he noticed that his wife Jennifer had been waiting for

him all along within their living room.

“I’m so glad you’re home, anything at all about the case?” she asked curiously.

“No, the medical examiner should have some findings for us

tomorrow. Tomorrow is the first official day of the case,” said Fisher calmly.

“Would you like anything sweetheart?” she asked with a concerned expression.

“No, I picked up some tea along the way. I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” he said.

The next day as Fisher arrived at the 23rd precinct he managed to

engage in rapid discussion with Detective Lane. Matthews himself

was there as well but wasn’t pleased with another detective on the

case.  As the trio narrowed down the list of possible informants

and leads for the case, medical examiner Paul Sanders walked into

the homicide office. Sanders had a list of files and papers

jammed in between the palm of both hands.

“I noticed some things last night that I thought I would share,” he said.

“Talk to us Sanders, what do you got?” Lane responded.

“From last night’s investigation while working with coroner

Murray, it turns out that the killer had gloves and used some

kind of tool to fracture the victim’s right side of the skull.

We couldn’t find any finger prints but we’re leaning heavily

towards objects such as a hammer or bat that may have been used to brutally beat

the victim. The suspect had either opened the window or it was

already open, but we think he used that as a decoy to fool

anyone who’d be investigating the crime,” said Sanders.

“Anything else Dr. Sanders?” asked Fisher earnestly.

“That’s all I’ve got as of now, but if anything comes up I’ll

have you come to the lab,” he said.

“Thanks Sanders, we’ll keep in touch,” added Matthews.

“Not a problem, if there’s anything please don’t hesitate,” he said.

Dr. Sanders quickly left and headed towards the medical department.

“Let’s get out and hit the streets, time to start pressing

the drug peddlers and arms dealers in NYC,” ordered Matthews.

“No disrespect Detective Matthews but I think the first action

would be for us to talk to Jake’s former friends, associates,

and anyone he’s been in contact with over the past few years.

Besides, the city landscape has changed and many of the dealers

Jake used to mess with are no longer around,” interjected Lane.

“I don’t tell you how to do your job Ms. Lane so please don’t tell me

how to do mine,” snapped Matthews.

 “Listen, if there’s anyone who would be a big help to us it

would be his girlfriend. Her name’s Tanya Watson. Lives over by

Beverly road right off of Flatbush, she knew all of his friends,

where he worked, they were often spotted together, she’s a

start,” said Fisher.

“Then let’s quickly get over there then, we’re moving too slow,” said Lane.

Fisher couldn’t help but think on why he deeply admired

 Lane. They both had been burglary detectives for about six to seven

years now, and he knew that if there was anyone who was as

passionate to solving the case as him, it was definitely Lane…

Once they had reached the front door, Lane quickly rapped her

knuckles against the apartment.

“Who is it?” replied a somber woman’s voice from inside.

“NYPD,” said Matthews.

“We’d like talk to you, open up!” added Lane.

The woman quickly opened the door. After letting them in she

quickly looked at Detective Fisher and burst into tears.

“You look just like him,” she said.

“Nice to see you too Ms. Watson,” replied Fisher in an awkward voice.

“I can’t take it!” she said, in between big heavy sobs.

“Listen, we were wondering if you could give us some names

regarding to who Jake hung around with or his last whereabouts

before the unfortunate event,” said Fisher.

Tanya tried to collect herself as she sniffled on her couch.

“Well, he had just gotten a job at the Kings Plaza mall by the Belt Parkway,” she said.

“And what exactly did he do while working there?” asked Lane.

“He was a janitor. My baby cleaned windows and mopped floors.

It wasn’t much but it was one of the few jobs he managed to find

after being a convicted felon in prison,” Tanya said.

“Any places he liked to go on his downtime?” asked Fisher.

“Yeah, he often went to Jibb’s, a pool hall located between

Bedford and Ocean Avenue. He used to chill with Smoke, Jeff, and Trey,” she said, while sniffling.

“Well thanks for your cooperation and patience, if we need any

more info or  testifying in court we’ll be in touch,” said

Matthews.

“How come you’re asking me all these questions? You know, for

someone who happened to be your brother you barely knew anything

about him. He talked about you constantly. He so wanted to

repair the relationship that you two once had,” exclaimed Tanya. 

Detective Luke Fisher sighed.

With one hand grasped firmly on her door knob he calmly said:

“If we need anything or something comes up, we’ll be in contact.”

And so they quickly left Tanya’s apartment.  As they headed towards

Kings Plaza mall, Fisher couldn’t help but think upon what

Tanya had said. She was right, he was a stranger and after his

brother’s incarceration he barely knew anything about him.

Fisher now believed that his brother had changed for the better

but it was too late to recreate their once close bond. As they

arrived at Kings Plaza they quickly approached a security guard

in the front lobby.

“Excuse me, Detective Fisher of the NYPD. These are Detectives

Lane and Matthews. We’re looking for whoever that happens to be

in charge of all the custodians here,” said Fisher.

“Oh, then I guess you’d be looking to speak to Mr. DeMarco. He’s the head of the custodian

faculty here,” answered the guard.

“Where can we find him?” Lane asked.

“Go straight down this floor and make a left at the end. His

office is labeled number 115,” said the guard.

As they walked down the first floor of the mall, they had to

avoid all the shoppers passing by who were running in and out of

stores with clothes, apparel and valuables. Thanksgiving

happened to be three days away and it appeared as if people were

doing some unusual early Christmas shopping. 

When they reached DeMarco’s office they were surprised to see that the door was

open. They walked inside,  but apparently Mr. DeMarco  was on his way out.

“Come back another time, I’m going to lunch,” he said.

Mr. DeMarco was in the act of putting on his coat when Fisher suddenly cut in.

“Lunch can wait Mr. DeMarco. What do you know about the murder

of Jake Fisher your employee?” said Fisher.

“Good lord no!! Jake?” he asked bewildered.

He quickly returned behind his desk and propped himself back ontohis chair.

“He was murdered late Saturday night, we found him early Sunday morning,” said Matthews.

Mr. DeMarco repetitively shook his head in a fashion of disbelief.

“Jake, Jake, Jake.  A good man, a good man,” he said somberly.

“I saw his potential. He was trying to get back on his

feet. I think I’m the only one who was willing to hire him with the

previous track record he had. Jake had great articulation and plus he carried

himself  well. A very ambitious man, he wanted to be a

motivational speaker to the youth for shying away from

violence and staying off the streets. He used this job as a

way to make money in order to get back on his feet.”

“Anything else about Jake that you can tell us?” asked Lane.

“We really didn’t talk about much outside of work but I know

Fridays he’d always get real excited. Once closing came, he

always went to that pool hall between Ocean and Bedford,” he

said.  

“Jibbs?” asked Fisher curiously.

“Yep, that’s the one, he was big on pool,” said DeMarco.

“Well thanks for your time and cooperation, if we need

anything you’ll be hearing from us,” said Detective Lane.

Mr. DeMarco quickly got up and shook each one of the Detective’s

hands.

“Not a problem, my doors are always open,” he said.

“Boy, Jake was a good man, he was really trying to get his life together….”

A little later, Lane drove Fisher home in her 2001 Mercedes-

Benz. Lost in his train of thought, he couldn’t help but think

how much of a stranger he had been to his brother. Luke never

gave him the second chance that he had truly deserved…

 The next day at the 23rd precinct Detectives Fisher and Lane were filing

paperwork on the case and sorting out files when Matthews walked in.

“Anything new besides what we’ve learned?” he asked.

“Nope,” replied Fisher.

“The pool hall is open from Wednesday through Saturday so

tomorrow we’re going to check it out,” said Lane.

“Sounds good, but I was thinking we should go Thursday or Friday instead,” said Matthews.

“Matthews, it’s open tomorrow. The sooner we can get some answers and leads, the better,”

pressed Fisher.

“I understand kid but anyone involved with the crime or possible

informants who knew Jake wouldn’t show up at the place with his

death being so sudden. They’d be scared out of their wits to

even resurface there,” Matthews said.

Detective Lane had then cut in, “Look, we’re going there tomorrow and that’s all there is to it.

The first 96 hours are critical when assembling as much

information and evidence to a crime as possible. You’re a senior

Detective in the homicide department, you know better

than that.”

Matthews took out both hands deep from within his pocket and raised his them to show peace.

“Alright, it was just a suggestion. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.

Gordon gave me the day off to plan my moving affairs,” he said.

He then looked towards Detective Lane and said,

“I already told Fisher over here that once this case is solved I’m calling it

quits. I’ve given this job 30 years and I think it’s time for me

to enjoy what’s left of my life.”

“We’ve got it under control over here, see you at the pool hall

tomorrow afternoon, 2p.m.” said Fisher.

Matthews nodded to express that he got the picture and without

another world he left.

 The next day Fisher headed over to Jibbs alone. He had agreed to meet up with Lane and

Matthews right in front of the establishment.  As he waited for them to come, Fisher lit up a

cigarette.

In about twenty minutes Lane appeared followed by Matthews a

couple of moments later. Together they walked inside, and as

they passed between aisles, they saw people drinking beer and

lining up pocket-balls as they chatted and got into games.

They approached a heavy set man at the main counter.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yeah, do you run this place,” asked Fisher, as he curiously looked around.

“Yeah, what is it you need?” he asked gruffly.

“NYPD,” Lane said, as she hoisted her badge to show the golden emblazoned shield.

In an instant the owner of the hall’s demeanor changed.

“How can I be of help officers?” he now asked nervously.

“We’re looking for three people who come here sometimes. Smoke,

Jeff, and Trey. Perhaps you may know them?” questioned Fisher.

“Of course, they’re regulars. They’re here on most nights. In

fact, they’re right over there!” he said.

As he pointed across the counter which separated himself from

the cops, he pinpointed upon three young black men who appeared to be

in their late twenties. They were all gathered at the pool table laughing in the midst of a game.

“Thanks, that will be all,” said Lane.

As casually as possible, the three detectives made their way to the table where the three men

were playing. Once they had reached the table, the three men

looked up.

“NYPD,” said Matthews, as they approached them.

“So you guys happen to know Jake?” he asked.

The three men suddenly dropped their pool sticks and stopped playing their game.

“Yeah, he’s a cool guy,” said one with the beer in his hand.

“Well he’s dead, he died late last Saturday night by homicide; what do you guys know about

that?” asked Fisher.

“Oh shit, Jake Fish?! He was very worried about his safety too,” said the same man with the beer.

“Who are you?” asked Lane.

“They call me Smoke but my real name is Bernard Robinson.”

“You three mind going in for questioning downtown?” asked Fisher.

“No not at all, we were on good terms with Jake, anything we can do to help is fine,” said the

tallest guy in the middle.

Back at the 23rd precinct, Detective Fisher interviewed Bernard, while Lane interviewed Jeff and

Matthews interviewed Trey.

“When was the last time you saw the victim?” asked Fisher.

“Thursday night. He came in once he got off from work,” said Robinson .

“Did you notice anything unusual? Anything at all?”

“I remembered that he was confronted by three men. Apparently he had done something

wrong that stemmed from his years of selling weight on the street.”

“What happened?” asked Fisher.

“There was a lot of pushing and shoving until there was a separation. One of them even told

him to watch his back,” Robinson said.

“You got any names for me?” asked Fisher.

“Ron Mercer, he usually wears a blue bandana, he’s slim, well

built and wears an earring in his left ear,” added Robinson.

“Where can I find him?” asked Fisher.

“I can’t tell you that.” He said.

“Why can’t you?” asked Fisher in a vexed tone.

Fisher who normally kept his cool was now losing his patience.

“Because I know nothing about him. I just know his name is big on the streets.”

“Fine. You’re free to go, if we need any more information, we’ll be in contact soon.”

Robinson quickly got up without another word and left.

Fisher sat in silence for about five minutes before he left the interrogation room. He hadn’t slept

well in days.

Every night that he went home, Jennifer was usually asleep.

And at six every morning he’d wake up to go back to the precinct to file more paperwork.

Once he was done with Robinson he decided to leave the office.

He then met Lane in the hallway walking towards him.

“What did you get?” she asked.

“Apparently there was an altercation last Thursday night with

Jake and three men. One of them with a blue bandana told him to

watch his back after words,” Fisher explained.

“That’s the same exact information I got out of Jeff,” replied Lane.

“Where’s Matthews?” asked Fisher.

“He just got done interrogating Trey, he’s on his way,” she said.

Five minutes later, Matthews was seen turning the corner which led to his office.

“Wasn’t there that night, anything he said was redundant from

our previous questionings of DeMarco and little Ms. Watson,” said Matthews.

“The only name and possible lead we have is this guy named Ron

Mercer. Mercer…Mercer… I’ve heard that name before, why does it

sound so familiar?” Fisher asked them curiously.

Both Lane and Matthews gave him confused looks.

Then Lane suddenly said, “You know, that name does sound vaguely familiar for some reason.”

“So where do we go from here?” asked Fisher.

“It’s getting late, why don’t we pick this up tomorrow?” said Matthews, who seemed a bit

perturbed.

They all mutually agreed and went their separate ways. That same

night when Fisher got home, he spent all his time with Jennifer.

It was the first time in two weeks that they had spent quality

time together since the heist case . As they sat on the couch

and watched the N.Y. Knicks and Boston Celtics basketball game,

Fisher’s cell phone started to beep. Fisher pushed the talk

button on his Nextel flip and said,

“What’s new cap?”

Captain Gordon in his deep resonant voice asked:

“Any leads?”

“Just some guy who happens to wear a blue bandana named Ron Mercer. Possible gang

member I suppose.  Apparently he knew Jake from back in the day. I’m guessing they had

unfinished business,” said Fisher.

“Now I’m giving you as long as you need for this case but just remember that Matthews will

be retiring and moving within the next three months,” said Gordon.

Fisher held the talk button for several seconds before he said:

“It’s okay, I’ll find out the person behind this with or without Matthews.”

“I have the upmost faith in you Fisher, I’m not worried at all. Good night,” he said.

“Night,” Fisher responded.

A month passed by and it seemed as if the three detectives were riding upon a Ferris wheel.

People who knew Jake Fisher were in and out of the precinct like clockwork. Detectives Fisher,

Lane, and Matthews ended up in dead ends and false leads everywhere they turned. On many

occasions Detective Matthews told Fisher that he admired his grit and his intentions to seek

justice but that the case was in dead water. Even Lane was frustrated but didn’t let her feelings

surface upon them.

Christmas had passed, and with it came the news of a man being drowned in Coney

Island. But that was a case for another squad and a different day.

The New Year had arrived and with it came frigid temperatures.

As January approached it’s end, each day passed  with no news or info connected to the case.

Rumors swirled throughout the department on closing it.

But one day in particular, Lane happened to catch Fisher in his office.

“There’s something extremely odd about our dilemma,” she said.

Fisher who had been skimming through the repetitive information that they had gathered over

the last two months looked up at her.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“Let me put it this way. Don’t you think by now we should have found something? It’s almost

like every time we learn something new, someone sweeps our footprints. We’ve looked left and

right and we haven’t found Ron Mercer. Why is that? And I’m pretty sure that the both of us have

heard his name before but I’m not sure where. These are the questions we’ve got to ask

ourselves,” she said exasperatedly.

 Fisher nodded his head in complete agreement.

“Yes, it’s definitely something I’ve been asking myself. I recognized his name the moment

Robinson mentioned it to me,” he replied.

Valentine’s Day had now arrived. Fisher had just gotten home

along with Jennifer. They had went to see the opening of “The

Lion King” on Broadway and had just came from eating dinner at

Cher Maurice’s in Manhattan. Jennifer had long went to bed

when the clock struck 12 and the telephone suddenly rang.

Fisher then proceeded to pick up. 

“Hello?” he said.

“Fisher, it’s Gordon,” said the Captain.

 At that precise moment Fisher suddenly shook any inch of sleep that he may have had.

“Talk to me Captain,” he said.

“Detective Lane happened to find the two men who were involved

in the scuffle with your brother back in mid November. They were

scared out of their minds, and since Mercer was nowhere to be

found they assumed that they themselves could die at the hands

of murder at any time,” said Gordon.

“Why is that?” asked Fisher.

“Well, remember that body that was found dead on Coney Island

two days after you, Lane, and Matthews had gone to the pool

hall?”

“Yeah, just after we had found out three possible suspects were involved.”

“Well it turns out that the body happened to be that of Ron

Mercer, the exact same guy that we were looking for,” he said.

“So he was the true culprit then?” asked Fisher.

“Yes, but judging that he was forcefully drowned in Coney

Island it seems as if he either had a beef or someone

didn’t want him found alive.” said Gordon.

“It’s funny how you mention that because once me, Lane and Matthews

found him as a legit suspect, we couldn’t find a trace of him.

It was as if he fell off the face of the earth,” exclaimed Fisher.

“Exactly, and his two friends didn’t want to end up in his

predicament so they’ve been hiding out in Long Island.”

“Well thanks for the news cap. I’m going to inform Matthews and

I’ll speak to Lane tomorrow—”

“Fisher,” Gordon cut in…

“Matthews is nowhere to be found…I haven’t seen him in a week.

There’s no sign of life at his house and he happened to

disappear once Ron Mercer was found. Remember when I had given

him the Ron Mercer case during the whole Crossfires at 59th

debacle?” He then continued, “Detective Lane had just remembered that she had heard the

name inside her office of the burglary squad room.”

After what seemed like an eternal moment, Fisher almost dropped

the receiver when he heard Gordon’s answer…Could he really

believe what he had just heard? He felt pangs of anger boil inside of

him….Thoughts began to swirl in his head as if he were trapped

within a tornado…The whole time Matthews worked beside him…The

whole time they seemed completely baffled as to the whereabouts

of Jake’s killer…Yes, Ron Mercer wanted Jake dead but he paid

someone to commit the crime… Now he remembered where he had

heard the name. When the 59th and Columbus case was under

investigation, Matthews had one day appeared in Lane’s office

and was given the Ron Mercer case. How could he have been so

stupid? When Jake went to prison in 94’, he had ratted on a kid

named Chauncey Matthews who was a fellow dealer to the weight that

Jake was selling on the streets. Chauncey had went to prison and

had died by inmate brutality. Detective Matthews had been bitter

that his nephew had gotten murdered. Matthews never had kids of

his own and had treated Chauncey as a son. They were always seen

together before the year of 94’.

Anyone within the NYPD had known the story, Chauncey had truly been Detective Matthews’

pride and joy…

Matthews had even interrogated Luke himself when he was just 22 and was trying to

turn his life around. There was a murder at the time on a kid named Evan Wright. He was a drug

dealer that worked hand in hand with Jake as well.

 Fisher should’ve thought of this the day Matthews

had decided to take the case .

In his mind there had never been a case…

The conclusion to the crime had always been misguided…

There was nothing else that Fisher could do…

Matthews had talked months before about calling it quits once the case was over…

 And now…

It really was over…

Fisher had to accept the fact that unless granted a miracle, he knew it was done…

Jake had been his blood brother but he died to Luke Fisher a stranger.

And as for Frank Matthews the homicide detective himself, he’d make

sure to never be heard from again.

Misguided indeed…

Case closed. 


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