Crime Scene Investigation

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

There's already a handful of people gathering around the crime scene by the time Montoya arrives. Morning joggers and other early risers. A couple uniforms are keeping the line. A van and a couple cruisers are parked off to the side, torn up grass left in their wake. She steps out of the car and gets her first glimpse at the victim. Male, caucasian. In his twenties, maybe? Eddie Boren, crime scene photographer, is already circling, snapping shots left and right.


"Hey Renee," comes the perfunctory greeting. They spend the next ten minutes trying to stay out of each others way as they independently review the body. It's sprawled out on its back. Present in the chest are three neatly spaced bullet holes. From the amount of blood present, it's clear death was next to instantaneous. Several inches from the right hand is a knife. It's a brand Montoya recognizes, fixed blade with a heavy duty rubber grip.

She motions for Officer Nate Dogilewski to join her. He steps away from crowd control without hesitation.

"Great way to start the morning, huh Detective?"

Renee Montoya isn't known for her sense of humor. She recognizes the need though. Every stressful situation requires a pressure valve. She lets it slide. "What's the story, Dog?"

"Shots fired. Jogger called it in on his cell phone. When we got here, the vic was already gone. Perp was still standing there, gun on the ground. He looked pretty shaken up. Said it was self defense. We got him over in one of the squad cars. Guy by the name of John Rooker."

Eyebrows shoot up. "Rooker? Councilman Rooker?"

There's a blank look on his face for a second before he shrugs. He turns and points.

She follows the gesture to the before mentioned squad car. Through the window, she can see the features of the occupant. Councilman Rooker? Without a doubt.

Fantastic.

Comments

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Rooker's not a man who commands a presence; which would likely explain the blank look on the detective's face at mention of his name. Somewhat lanky, sandy-haired and unremarkable in features, Rooker seems to be gazing currently at a fixed point on the back of the squad car's headrest.

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

It's a damn miracle the place isn't crawlin' with reporters. It's not every day one sees a city councilman in the back of a police cruiser. She turns back to Dogilewski.

"Keep these people back. I don't care who you have to call. The media shows up? Come find me."

She makes for the squad car, her eyes on the profile of Rooker.

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

He's barely moving, she'll notice, though when she gets closer she'll notice that he's in handcuffs - a precautionary measure in the early stages of a homicide investigation. He's exhibiting all the apparent signs of a man in shock; his skin pale and his clothes disheveled.

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

She maneuvers to the far side of the vehicle and opens the rear door opposite the occupant. Placing her left hand on the roof, she leans in to get his attention. Her sidearm is on her right hip, purposefully canted away from the suspect.

"I'm Detective Montoya. Can I get your name, sir?"

She continues to closely watch his body language.

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

he seems almost startled by the sound of the door opening, even before her shadow falls over him. He looks up, squinting dark brown eyes against the harsh winter morning light.

"Ah ... yes. Rooker ... John Rooker."

His voice seems a little distant. "I ... is he dead?"

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

Questions go one way in an initial interview.

"Can you tell me what happened this morning, sir?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Rooker swallows a few times, his mouth feeling like sandpaper. "I ... I was walking to work this morning, like I always do ... " A pause, as he sniffs; perhaps it's from the cold. "Next thing I know ... some guy is standing in front of me, waving a knife and demanding my cash, and ... well, I didn't have much time to react. I did the first thing I could think of, and I reached for my gun and ... well, you know the rest, I suppose."

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

Regardless of whether she knows the rest or not...

"Can you be more specific, sir?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

He blinks a few times. "I shot him. I ... two ... three times, maybe? I can't really remember. It all happened so fast."

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

"Have you ever seen this individual before today?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Rooker's gaze drifts for a moment. "I -- no. Never. I mean, maybe, while I was walking through here, but a lot of people pass through here in the mornings, I don't really pay much attention to them -- "

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

She waits a second to see if there's more. When nothing is forthcoming...

"You said 'he was standing in front of me'. Did you see where he came from?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

He looks fatigued suddenly. "I don't suppose I could get some coffee, Detective? I'm freezing."

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

She is letting all the cold air in and all the warm air out. She stands erect and let's out a whistle most cabbies would flock to. "Keys!"

A pair are flying towards her a second later. It isn't long before the heater is blowing air into the cabin. She leans in again and picks up where she left off. "Did you see where he came from?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

He swallows a few times, his mouth dry, then waves a hand at the treeline alongside the pathway.

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

"How far away from you do you suppose he was?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Rooker shifts his hands behind his back, the handcuffs keeping his arms there chafing the skin on his wrists. "I'm not sure. A few feet, at most."

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

"He demanded cash. Do you remember his exact words? Did he demand anything else?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

"He ... " A pause, as though he's replaying the events in his head. "He just told me to 'hand it over' and held the knife out."

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

"Did he advance on you at all, sir?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

He brings his knees together, shivering against the cold. "He was just ... he just came at me. I didn't know what else to do."

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

With the heater blowing hot air into the back, he shouldn't be shivering. Shock manifests itself in many forms.

"The gun, sir. Is that registered to you? And do you have a concealed weapons permit?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

"I ... yes, I believe the permit is in the dresser at the house ... " He sinks back against the seat. "Oh, God. I need to call my wife ... "

[det-montoya.livejournal.com]

His shivering doesn't seem to subside.

"Sir, I'm going to have an EMT check you out. After that, you'll be required to provide an official statement. You'll have an opportunity to contact your wife after you're done. Do you understand?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

His eyes close, and he offers a simple nod in response.