1960: My Uncle is the Director of the FBI

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Ricky moved swiftly to close the conference room door while Supervisor Rivera lowered the venetian blinds with practiced efficiency.

Senior Police Supervisor Flores sat motionless, his expression grave as he contemplated the implications of Theodore's assessment.

Years of partnership had built Flores's confidence in Theodore's analytical abilities.

If the young sergeant was certain they were hunting a cop killer who happened to be a cop himself, then preparation for that reality couldn't wait.

Case details would leak; they always did, despite everyone's best efforts. Flores estimated another hour before newspaper switchboards lit up with calls to headquarters.

His immediate concern was preventing the leak of their most devastating suspicion: that law enforcement had turned against its own.

Beyond containment, they needed a media strategy for the inevitable moment when they arrested the killer.

The public relations nightmare of "law enforcement killing law enforcement" was already giving Flores a migraine he could feel building behind his temples.

Theodore, however, showed no signs of distress. His extensive knowledge of criminal behavior, gained through both experience and exhaustive study of case files, had prepared him for aberrations far stranger than this.

"The killer chose a serving detective as his target," Theodore began, his tone clinical and precise. "The victim was positioned in full police uniform, kneeling, hands bound behind his back, executed with a single shot. This represents textbook ritualistic killing."

Flores, who functioned essentially as Theodore and Bernie's handler within the department hierarchy, immediately connected the pattern to their previous mountain killer case.

"Did he take the badge and service weapon as trophies?"

Theodore shook his head, correcting the assumption.

"The badge represents law enforcement authority. By taking it, the killer is stripping the victim of his police identity, declaring him unworthy of wearing it. The service weapon serves multiple purposes: it's a symbol of police power, facilitates future crimes, and satisfies his desire for control."

He paused, ensuring his audience grasped the distinction. "These aren't mere trophies like our mountain killer collected. They're integral components of the ritualistic message. Most critically, killing a law enforcement officer and claiming his symbols of authority will dramatically increase the killer's confidence."

Theodore's analysis deepened as he read the crime scene's symbolic language.

"This killer sees himself as an executor of justice. He may display the badge and weapon later, possibly mailing the badge back to the station or leaving it at his next crime scene."

The room erupted in overlapping exclamations.

"Mail it to the station?!"

"The next one?!"

Theodore nodded grimly. "This successful killing has given him immense confidence. He's likely already planning his next execution."

The revelation shattered any remaining composure.

Flores practically sprinted from the room toward the South District Chief's office, bypassing normal protocols to call headquarters directly.

Rivera bolted toward the Deputy Chief's office with what appeared to be a sudden interest in vacation time, anything to distance himself from this case.

Ricky, hampered by his considerable bulk, brought up the rear as he rushed to contact the East District Patrol supervisor.

"Protect Michael's partner immediately!" Ricky shouted into the phone. Whatever secrets Michael Jansen had harbored, his partner would know them.

In an era where police partnerships often grew closer than marriages, David Brown represented their best hope for understanding the victim's hidden life.

When the three reconvened minutes later, Flores had already departed for headquarters without so much as a farewell. Theodore studied his remaining companions and made the tactical decision.

"Let's interview the partner first."

They divided responsibilities: Theodore and Ricky would handle Detective Brown, while Rivera investigated Jansen's social connections. The time pressure had transformed Rivera from his earlier reluctance into a model of urgent cooperation.

East District Chief Richard Garcia met them personally, his concern evident as he insisted on observing the interrogation.

Detective Brown proved cooperative to a fault, even admitting to a "2-on-1 incident" with his deceased partner, the most scandalous behavior either man had ever engaged in.

Both had been ordinary patrol officers leading ordinary lives until a favored instructor arranged their East District assignment.

The prestigious posting to an area populated by city officials and wealthy residents offered no opportunities for the corruption that plagued other districts. They lacked both the capability and connections for serious misconduct.

Brown's narrative covered their entire partnership in exhaustive detail, but yielded nothing useful. Theodore found himself listening to the mundane career of two men whose greatest transgression wouldn't even warrant a reprimand, let alone vigilante execution.

By seven that evening, Theodore concluded the fruitless interrogation. Brown was escorted away under protective supervision, his duties transferred to internal affairs with mandatory accompaniment to and from work.

In Garcia's office, Theodore suggested investigating Jansen's finances after learning about East District salary scales.

The victim's recent property purchase exceeded his legitimate earning capacity by a significant margin.

Garcia's dinner invitation met with polite decline; Theodore needed to return to the West District before the hour grew too late. Two taciturn detectives provided escort service, their silence intriguing Theodore more than their conversation might have.

"He's going through a messy divorce," the passenger explained when Theodore inquired about his partner's mood.

The driver shot him a withering glance but maintained his stoic silence. The passenger then attempted to discuss the case, but Theodore's noncommittal responses quickly discouraged further questions.

Bernie waited at the West District station, his concern evident as Theodore briefed him on the day's developments. When Bernie suggested accompanying him the following day, Theodore declined confidently.

"The killer's target profile is specific; detectives he believes are unworthy of wearing the badge."

Bernie's worry persisted. "What if you make him feel threatened?"

Theodore considered Bernie's physique; the man grew winded climbing three flights of stairs, and couldn't suppress a slight smile. "I'll be with Mr. Cullinan."

Bernie's answering laugh acknowledged the absurdity of relying on Ricky for physical protection.

As they reached the parking lot, Theodore posed the question that had been building in his mind.

"What do you think about trying for the FBI selection?"

Bernie's smile faded as he considered the implications, but he offered no immediate answer.

The next morning's gathering in the South District conference room brought mixed results.

The forensics lab had extracted several fingerprints from the nightstand drawer, creating comparison cards against the victim's prints.

The preliminary autopsy was complete, revealing a .38 caliber lead bullet extracted from Jansen's skull.

Standard issue for Felton patrol officers was the Smith & Wesson Model 110, which fired .38 lead round-nose ammunition.

"The killer likely used Jansen's own service weapon," Theodore concluded, following the ritualistic logic to its inevitable conclusion.

Ricky arrived with financial investigation results from the East District.

Jansen's bank accounts showed no unusual deposits, though their overnight contact at the bank had provided thorough documentation.

The real estate agent was already en route to the station, accompanied by company legal counsel.

The agent's testimony proved frustratingly clean: Jansen had purchased the property with full payment, no financing, no third-party guarantees, and complete documentation. Everything appeared legitimate.

Forensics delivered equally disappointing news; the drawer fingerprints matched only the victim, with no foreign prints detected.

Headquarters' noon press conference, handled by Flores, demonstrated masterful obfuscation. He mentioned only that "a detective was found dead at home" while remaining completely silent about the nature of the death.

The hour-long briefing was edited down to one minute of television coverage, successfully suppressing immediate media interest.

Rumor suppression proved impossible. Within hours, ritualistic details had spread throughout the entire police system, creating an atmosphere of suspicion and fear among rank-and-file officers.

Flores returned that afternoon seeking progress updates. Ricky and Rivera provided their reports: attempts to trace Jansen's mysterious funds continued despite slim prospects for success in the current era.

The East District was reviewing duty records for potential leads. Theodore had contacted West District sources about black market weapon sales, though he doubted the killer would dispose of such a symbolically important trophy.

"This killer won't stop," Theodore stated with quiet certainty. "He sees himself as a messenger of justice, and messengers don't retire after delivering one message. He's going to evolve into a serial killer."

Flores studied Theodore's face, clearly wrestling with information he chose not to share about the headquarters' unusual pressure regarding this case.

The autopsy report's arrival provided new details: powder burns and skin charring around the entry wound indicated point-blank execution.

The killer had pressed the gun barrel directly against Jansen's skull before firing.

Theodore proposed re-interviewing Detective Brown based on this enhanced understanding of the killer's methodology.

They returned to the East District to find controlled chaos, detectives streaming toward logistics with their equipment for mandatory inspection.

The explanation came from harried officers: headquarters had ordered comprehensive equipment audits for all personnel.

The implication was unmistakable. Word had spread that the department suspected one of their own, and now every detective faced scrutiny of their service weapons.

Ricky's face showed his agitation as he sent for Detective Brown while the others waited in Interrogation Room 1.

Brown arrived quickly, almost seeming relieved to escape the administrative burden of equipment registration.

Theodore abandoned yesterday's gradual approach, spreading autopsy and crime scene photographs across the table in stark display.

He provided a detailed psychological profiling of the killer, then delivered his assessment directly.

"No matter what you're concealing about your partner's activities, you're already in the killer's crosshairs. Only by helping us catch him can you stop living in fear."

Brown's reaction was subtle but telling. His gaze moved repeatedly across the photographs, lingering on the image of Jansen in full uniform.

His body trembled slightly, but when he finally looked up, his expression remained resolute.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about. I've told you everything I know."

Theodore gathered the photographs with obvious frustration, signaling the interrogation's end. Brown politely bid farewell to each investigator before departing.

His behavior convinced everyone present that he was concealing crucial information.

"He knows the victim's secret," Theodore stated with absolute confidence.

Ricky immediately stood. "I'll get the Patrol supervisor."

Flores nodded. "I'll talk to Garcia."

Rivera looked around the emptying room. "I'll stay here with Theodore."

[End of Chapter]