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Investigation of a Murderer
It was around 10 o’clock on a Friday night and I was stuck at a stake out. My partner was supposed to be here with me, but he did not show up. I knew that my partner was out at some party or something like that. Special Agent Frank Davis, my partner, was one of the worst agents in the department, which is the FBI. Davis was a tall guy; I think he played basketball in college. Davis used to wear a earring, but I threatened to pull it out if he showed up for work with it again. His father was the deputy director of the department, which was the main reason for his success. About the only good thing about getting this case was that I received the new Doge Charger that the department had just gotten in. It was a beautiful car, sleek, shiny and an amazing design. The outside was a dark black, the interior was black also. It was possibly the nicest car I had ever been in, and it was mine.
The case I had gotten was a possible murderer. The suspects name was Dustyn Michaels. I had pulled all of Michaels’s information, his phones tracking device, his phone calls, his emails, his instant messages, I had Michaels phone tapped, and had done everything else he thought would be relevant to the case. Thank god for the patriot act I thought to myself as I opened up one of the files, if I would have gone through a judge it would have taken me twice as long to get about a quarter the information.
Dustyn Michael was an unusual guy. Michaels worked for the local Engineering firm, he is an electrical engineer. We suspected Michaels is killing people he went to school with. According to his file Michaels had seen a physiatrist for a while. I had been tracking his movements for a while, I had been using his cell phone and he had gone to some stores and bought a lot of cleaning supplies. After making a couple calls I was able to determine that Michaels suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder and repressed his emotions, mostly how he really felt about people. Michael’s victims list was, in chronological order, one male victim shot in back with shotgun, one male victim found asphyxiated, one female victim who had beaten to death, one male who we suspected Michaels had held prisoner, and one female who is still missing, but we suspect that Michaels has her. Michael’s victim list represented that he may have the makings of a serial killer, all of his victim had attend high school with him and he had gotten more bold in the killings. Michaels had gone from using a shotgun to kill his victims, to capturing people; I was scared of what he would do next.
Then, the passenger door on my car opened up. About a thousand thoughts raced through my mind, some of those were, should I pull my gun, is it just someone who got confused, am I being attacked.
“Hi Boss,” said Special Agent Frank Davis.
“Davis, I almost shot you,” I said in an angry whisper, even though the thought of shooting never crossed my mind.
“Sorry boss, my dad told me I needed to stop wasting time and get down here and help you,” said Davis. Davis’s father was the deputy director of the FBI, he was second in charge.
“So, are you finally going to start being responsible,” I asked Davis in a sarcastic tone.
“Yes sir, I want to be like my father some day,” said Davis.
“Davis, how did you get here?” I questioned Davis.
“I took a cab,” said Davis immoderately.
“Davis.” I said “Never take a cab to a stake out, it is a sure way to get spotted.”
“Sorry boss, I just needed to get here and my car is in the shop,” said Davis. The shop was the police impound lot, Davis had a couple of tickets from drunk driving, his father always mad the charges go away, but the police had started to keep his car.
I tossed Davis the case file and he spent the next few minuets reviewing it. I didn’t think that Davis was serious, this was not the first time had had a change of heart; these usually lasted around a week before he fell back into his same old routine.
“I know that guy,” said Davis pointing to a picture of Michaels.
“Are you sure,” I asked Davis.
“Yes, I see him down at the bar I like to go to on Saturday Nights,” said Davis sounding excited.
“I say that we go there,” I said, “Davis, you drive, you know were to go.”
“This is it boss,” said Davis
The bar was full of people. That was going to make our job harder. We walked into the bar and saw that it was complete chaos. It smelled of alcohol and fired foods. It was relatively large establishment. There was a layer of smoke, what I imagined a civil war battle field would look like. The bar was divided, on the side of the bar away from the stage there was TV’s and sports fans playing poker and pool, on the other side by the stage it was queer with a very thick layer of smoke.
“Hey Frank, you want to place a bet on whose going to win the game,” yelled one of the bars patrons.
“Not now Jim, I am working,” Davis yelled back in a serious, slightly threatening tone.
“What is he talking about, Davis,” I said with suspicion.
“I don’t know boss, some drunken idiot. He must have me confused with someone else,” said Davis in a nervous tone.
“No, no I don’t think he is confused, he used your name and you used his,” I said.
“Please sir, can we just do what we came here for,” pleaded Davis.
“Ok,” I said “But this isn’t over.
Davis and I went over to the bartender.
“Excuse me, bartender,” I said while Davis and I presented our badges, “We are looking for the proprietor of this establishment. “
“He is over there,” Said the bartender pointing to a table that was located on the left of the stage, it was surrounded by about seven tough looking guys. Sitting at the table was three men and seven women.
Davis and I approached the table, Davis were very nervous. One of the owners bodyguards got in our way.
“This is a private party,” said the Bodyguard.
“This will only take a minute,” I said and Davis and I showed our badges. He let us through. As we approached the table the owner said ‘Hey Frank, how is it going, you haven’t been here since the fight.”
“What fight, Davis,” I said.
“Nothing sir the man must have me confused with someone else,” said Davis in the same tone he had told me he didn’t know the other man.
“Davis, everyone is using your name,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“Can I help you two gentlemen,” said the owner in an irritated tone.
“I am Special Agent Ronald Brinkly, and this is my partner, Special Agent Frank Davis,” I said as Davis and I showed our badges again. “We need all of your security cameras, records and anything else relating to one Dustyn Michaels,” I said looking around at the cameras I could clearly see.
“And why should I do that,” said the Owner.
“Because, if you don’t then I will have to get a warrant and it will take up my time, so then I will have to take up your time,” I said smiling.
Thirty minuets later Davis and I left the bar with everything we needed. When we arrived at our stakeout position we got our old spot with a perfect view of Michael’s house. I was looking over the case files when I heard a knocking on my window, I was in the drivers seat. It was Michaels. Davis reacted faster then I did, for the first time ever, and pulled his gun and yelled for Michaels to step away from the car.
Seeing the gun, Michaels stepped away with his hands in the air. I was frozen, Davis was doing everything right.
Then I started to think about what we could hold Michaels for. Davis my have overreacted to the situation. All Michaels had done was knock on the window of a suspicious vehicle parked outside of his house, we could get sued for this. With no way to enter his house, we would have to leave.
I let Davis drive back to our offices. We must have missed something I thought to myself on the ride back.
When we got back to the office I went over all the security tapes from the bar, I saw Michaels leaving with the third victim, which was definitely good enough for a search warrant. I had to call in a lot of favors, but I was able to get a warrant.
We got five squad cars from the local police and headed to Michaels house. Our plan was for the police to surrounded Michael’s house and Davis and I would go and knock on the door, we decided to bring two officers with us.
After we got there we waited around 5 minuets to make sure that the police had the perimeter secured, then we approached the house. I waked up to the door knocked and said “Mr. Michaels, we have a warrant to search the premise.” My answer was a blast from a shotgun.
I froze, I had never been shot at, and I had never even taken my weapon out of my holster. I looked over and saw that one of the officers had been killed and the other one was seriously injured, then I looked at Davis, he was shot. Michaels was now shooting at the other police officers and they were firing back. I grabbed Davis and dragged him out of the direct line of fire. I tried to stop Davis from bleeding, but I was not having much luck.
Michaels had retreated farther into his house and the policemen were moving up towards the house. One came over to me and said, “Back up is still two minuets out, we are going in after that monster.”
“That is not a good idea,” I said, “He is well armed and doesn’t care about his own life.
After a brief hesitation, the officer said, “OK, there is no sense in losing anymore officers.”
“That’s a good idea,” I said, “Help me carry Davis here back.”
The other two officers were dead and Davis was not looking good. The ambulance pulled up flanked by four police cars, there were another four on the other side, and they loaded Davis into the ambulance. I had to choose between going with Davis and staying behind to take care of the crime scene. I chose to stay at the crime scene and kill Michaels.
I got around five officers together and we moved towards the house, spread out to prevent further fatalities. When we got to the house another officer, I think his name was Mark, and I entered the house well the others secured the windows. The inside of Michaels house was a normal layout, we were in the kitchen, I could see a hallway, the living room, a dining room and I door that I suspected lead to the basement. My fear was that Michaels had some kind of explosive and was going to blow the house up. We secured the upstairs and only found one shotgun, not the one used to shoot Davis.
We all knew that we would have to search the basement, which was were Michaels would have to be. I had picked up the shotgun and volunteered to go down the steps first. The countdown seemed to take an eternity. I still remember officer mark, “One, after about a 10 second pause two, and then THREE!”
I went down the step with the shotgun raised and ready for Michaels. I could see the bottom of the steps, one of the officers volunteered to go first. They got to the bottom of the steps and motioned for the rest of us to follow. When I got to the bottom I looked around, the basement was a square, there was cement floors and walls, Michaels had put random carpet strips down, there was shelves to one side of the steps and some kind of brick and mortar bunker on the other side. There was a TV with a couch in front of it and some children’s toys spread out all over the room.
Then I started to think about were Michaels was, there were windows, but the police had the scene secured. Then the gunshots started, three more blasts from a shotgun, I was shocked, I couldn’t figure out where the shots were coming from, then I realized it was the bunker. Michaels was in the bunker. I dove behind the stairs, dropping the shotgun. I walked around the stairs hopping to have the opportunity to shoot Michaels, when I heard a faint rustling behind me. I turned around to see a cage, in this cage there was a person. I was shocked; I did not know Michaels was this crazy this person had been here for what looked like 3 days. I had never encountered anything like this before. Another gunshot brought me back to reality. I kept going around the steps until I got to a place were there was a opening between the steps and the wall. I stayed close to the wall as I raised my weapon. I took aim for Michaels head and breathed out slowly, then I fired. I saw my round strike Michaels, saw Michaels fall. It is over I thought to myself. I walked over to the officers and to find out that, miraculously, that there was only when injured man. I went up the steps and was followed by the Prisoner we had found and the officers. When we walked out I was told I would have to address the press. I stepped in front of the cameras and said, “The FBI had been investigating Dustyn Michaels. Tonight the FBI was preparing to make a arrest. Michaels fired at us. Two police officers have been killed by Michaels and another officer is injured. A FBI agent was also severely wounded; the agents name is Frank Davis. Dustyn Michaels was killed in the basement of this house,” I said, I was about to continue when I heard the explosion, it came from the house. I ran into the house to meet to officers coming out. “Michaels had a grenade underneath him, when Officer Mark Rove moved the body the grenade went off killing the officer,” said one of the officers.
“Ok,” I said, “No one else goes into that house until it has been cleared of explosives.”
“Yes sir,” said the officers.
I decided to try and call michaeals or the hospital. His mother answered his cell phone. “Hello is this Franks Boss,” said Davis’s mother.
“This is Franks Partenr, Special Agent Ronald Brinkly, but you can call me Ron ma’am,” I said, hoping she would tell me about Frank without me having to ask.
“Frank is still alive, he just got out of surgery and the doctors say we will be able to see him soon,” she said, I could tell she was on the brink of tears.
“Could I speak to Deputy Director Davis, Ma’am,” I said trying not to be rude.
“He’s not here, he said that he had too much to do at the office,” she said, he sadness transforming to anger and contempt.
“Brinkly, we need you over here, now,” yelled one officer.
“I have to go Ma’am, I will call back soon,” I said, hanging up before she could say anything else. The Bomb Sqad had shown up and we ready to start sweeping the house. “I need you guys to sweep this whole house, try not to disturb anything, this is a FBI crime scene, alight, keep it safe and finish quick,” I said. My phone started ringing, I answered it too here, “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!,”
“I, I don’t know who this is,” I said, slightly worried.
“THIS IS RODNEY DAVIS,”
“Sir, I am sorry about your son, but, please, you have to calm down,”
“Ok, Ok, Is My Son Alive, My Wife Won’t Answer Her Phone,” said Director Davis.
“As far as I know, yes, where are you headed, sir,” I asked, I was hoping he was going to the hospital.
“To your crime scene. I don’t think you can handle it,” Said Director Davis.
“Sir, please your son is in the hospital, he might die,” I said, thinking I might have done more harm then good.
“Okay, I will go, but if anything else goes wrongs I will be down there and you will be at the hospital,” said Director Davis, “I didn’t mean I would hurt you, I meant you would go visit Frank.”
“Okay sir, I will make sure nothing else goes wrong. Could you send down any more agents,” I said.
“I can send two,” Director Davis said, and then he hung up.
The bomb squad cleared the scene and the agents showed up. We swept the house and only found what you’d expect to find in a typical American House. Then we searched the basement, and that was a gold mind. Michaels had held at least three people in the cage were I found the woman being held hostage.
“Alright, I said to the other FBI agents and the Police Offieers, “We have evidence to support that Micheals was doing the killing. We have evidence that shows we were justified to kill Michales. And we can close this case. Three officers have died, one officer has been injured and a FBI agent has been injured, this is all we have.”
“Okay Sir, I think you should address the press,” said one of the FBI agents.
I walked out to the podium were I had been 2 hours ago and said “Today, Dustyn Michel’s was killed after he killed to Police Officers and wounded a FBI Agent, a Police Officer was also injured. There is proof that Michael’s was a serial killer.” I ended my speech and decided to go to the hospital.
When I got to Davis’s room I found more people then I expected. “Hello,” said Mrs. Davis, “The doctors say Frank will be fine, the bullets just hit his shoulder.”
“That’s great,” I said, looking at all the people.
“This is my Wife, Catherine,” said Deputy Director Davis, “This is my daughter Maggie and her husband Chris, and there kid Bill. This is my other son John, his wife Nancy and there kids Scott and Ellen.”
“Nice to meet you, I never thought that Davis had a family,” I said looking at everyone.
“Well, why not,” said Mrs. Davis.
“He never talked aobut you,” I said, “except you sir, he did talk about you.”
“Okay then, lets not talk about my sons disappointing life,” said Director Davis.
“How did my brother get shot,” said Maggie looking at me imploringly.
“When I knocked on the door to serve the warrant, the suspect shot at us,” I said, not going into any more detail then necessary, “Two Policemen wer killed.”
A doctor came in at that moment and said, “Are you this mans family.”
“Yes we are,” said John Davis.
“He is going to be alright, the bullets just hit his shoulder, he will be out of here in three weeks,” said the doctor, then he walked out.
“Great,” said Special Agent Frank Davis from his hospital.
His family surrounded him saying too many things to sort out. “Okay, Okay, I have some questions for my Partner,” said Frankk Davis, “What happened out there.”
“Well Davis,” I said, then I recounted the nights events to the pleasure, shock and entertainment for everyone in the room.
As I walked out to the hospital that night I thought to myself, “Case Closed.”