Under Color of Law by Clark Aaron Philip

Author:Clark, Aaron Philip
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2021-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Once outside the hospital, I struggle to walk a block to a mini-mart. Inside, the store clerk has the TV tuned to the local news. The anchor, a young Asian woman with a conservative haircut two generations older than she, is delivering a story. I wait to pay behind a man who looks to be a vagrant buying beef jerky and a teenager holding a bag of chips and a soft drink.

The anchor says: “I’m Mary Ling with Action 7 News. We have breaking news this evening. Photographs of recently deceased LAPD Recruit Officer Brandon Soledad have appeared on the website StormWatch. Soledad, who police suspect was murdered, was found in the Angeles National Forest yesterday morning. While the case is ongoing, LAPD says they will be investigating the presence of the crime scene photos on what appears to be a pro–law enforcement blog with links to extreme right-wing and white supremacist organizations.”

The clerk takes a remote from a drawer and turns up the volume on the TV.

“We warn you—many of the comments found on the website are disturbing. Some commenters mocked Brandon Soledad’s death and suggested it was only a matter of time before the young police recruit would embarrass the department. Others suggested the new diversity initiatives designed to improve the racial makeup of the department are backfiring and leaving the door open to what one commenter wrote as ‘hood drama.’”

“Bullshit,” the clerk says. “The department leaked those pictures. Everybody knows it, too. They were sending a message. Not welcome!”

“Sources say officers in the LAPD and LA County Sheriff’s Department actively post on the site, some posts appearing even after the photos of Soledad’s body surfaced. An LAPD representative says the issue is under investigation, and any officer who was aware of the photos online and did not report them may face punitive action.”

“Fucking cops,” the clerk says. “Can’t ever trust them.” He’s a large man with russet-colored skin and a long black beard; he finishes with the vagrant and quickly rings up the teenager’s items. The boy pays and leaves. I approach the clerk and place the aspirin and water on the counter for him to ring up.

“Evening,” I say, feeling compelled to be kind. Sure, he doesn’t know I’m a cop, but sometimes I find myself wanting to show people we aren’t all maniacs.

“Can you believe that?” the clerk asks. “I mean, that poor kid’s family has to deal with this shit now, and they don’t even know who killed him.”

I stay quiet.

“It’s just a shame—a real shame,” he says. “I hope whoever killed him gets what’s coming.”

I can’t help but cosign. “Me, too.”

“Six bucks,” he says. I dig around in my pocket, produce a ten-dollar bill, and hand it to him.

Maybe my father was right. There’s no redeeming the LAPD. What type of person plasters pictures of a naked dead kid on the internet? They hate Brandon and didn’t even know him. All he wanted to do was join something that mattered and leave a legacy of honor and pride.

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