The Code
by
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1 January 1995, 0930 Hours I'm not allowed to cry. None of us are, not even the female officers. Sometimes that's the hardest part. It's the fucking Code, that cop code of behavior, or part of it anyway. You can't cry unless it's your mother or another cop who died, and even then the rest of them that aren't crying look at you funny. Like you're an aberration, a weakling, not fit to be a real cop. Your own kid. If your own kid buys it, then it's probably okay to cry
Your own kid, but not the one last night. He was only some ten year old black kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When the older ones decided to rob a cabbie, he went along, probably to show them how tough he was, how ready to be part of the gang. According to the witness, all he did was stand on the passenger side of the cab. Probably never said a word; probably scared shitless all the time. I'll bet he never saw the gun get stuck upside the cabbie's head, never saw the cabbie grab the other kid's arm, never saw the fucking gun go off.
The witness stated that the other kids ran and the cabbie just drove away. Only thing left was this ten year old black kid, dead in the parking lot.
The paramedics took him to Henrotin Hospital, and by the time we arrived, the doctors were all done. It doesn't take long to figure out someone is dead. Even now, my only clear recollection of him is how small he was and how yellow the bottoms of his bare feet looked where they stuck out from under the sheet.
Normally, that would have been the end of it for us. But last night, being New Year's Eve and all, there were no detectives available to make the death notification, and we got stuck doing it. Two o'clock in the morning and we're waking everyone up and telling them their ten year old son-brother-nephew is fucking dead. They ask questions; we try to answer.
How? A witness says he was with some boys trying to rob a cab.
Who? We don't know; some other kid. It sounds like it was an accident.
Why? We can't even begin to answer that one.
They cry; then they get mad - at the cabbie, at the witness, at us. It doesn't matter; we know they have to blame someone. We get cold, get tough and leave. Happy New Year.
Even my partner didn't really give a shit; I could tell. All she was interested in was getting out of that house before the kid's relatives really turned on us. Whatever happened to the maternal instinct? What would she have done if it was her own kid? Would she have cried?
I don't really know her. She was only my partner in the sense that she was the one I worked with last night. Not my real partner, not like that. He took the night off, invited to a party. Pat likes parties; it's probably the Irish in him. Even though he's not a big drinker, he's a great bullshit artist, and that makes him the center of attention most of the time. That suits me fine; I get left alone when he's around.
Pat always says my problem is that I'm too quiet - a wallflower he calls me. That's what real partners are for: to tell you what's wrong with you.
Only a ten year old kid. Why can't I get that taste out of my mouth?
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About the Book
The Code is the story of a Chicago cop, Jake Harmon, who stumbles across an unidentified man carrying $250,000. While struggling to adhere to the "Cop Code of Behavior," he attempts to uncover the source of the money. Aided by his girlfriend and fellow officer, Aranda Gonzalez, he makes a shocking discovery that pushes him to the limits of the Code. Written by a real cop, this book delves into the everyday workings of a police department and explores how real police think and act, hemmed in by the code of behavior, when the rest of you aren't around.
About the Author
Daniel Schrager was a member of the Chicago Police Department for twenty-eight years, retiring at the rank of Lieutenant in 1998. During his career, he worked as a patrol officer in the Cabrini-Green housing project, spent eight years as a vice officer in the Rush Street entertainment area, three years as a sergeant in a special unit created by then-mayor Jane Byrne to investigate misconduct in the Chicago Transit Authority, and several years as a patrol sergeant. During his last five years on the Department, he was the Acting Watch Commander in the 24th Patrol District. For eighteen months, in an unofficial capacity, he assisted as a bodyguard and driver for a mayoral candidate during a re-election bid. Prior to joining the Chicago Police Department, he served fourteen months in Vietnam assigned to the First Infantry Division, including the period of the Tet offensive in 1968. He currently resides in Prescott, Arizona where he is working on his latest book.