Volume Three - WordPress.com — Get a Free Blog Here

“Just to give you a heads up,” I said, “I handled it all myself. Didn’t need Ortiz at all.” Dale finally cracked a
smile. “Mark my words; this will go down as one of my greatest busts. The chief will be all over this. My attaboy
is in ‘da bag, brother.”
I left him in search of my good-for-nothing partner. I took a peek inside the men’s room.
“There you are, you lazy fuck.” I said, joining him on the bench.
He laughed. “Yeah, I’m sorry I missed it, Johnny.” Alex Ortiz was my partner and best friend. I don’t
know what fates brought us together, but we are good in every way imaginable. I wouldn’t be caught dead in the
field with anyone else but him.
“If you’re done laughing like a clown, maybe we could go check the board. Do some police work? Whaddya
say?” I said, staring him down. This made him laugh even more. I wonder how much work I’d get done if I
partnered up with a sourpuss?
The kind of call we all dread came in an hour later. A bank robbery was going down in the Marina. Robbery
was not our thing, but the call was for ‘all units’.
When we got to the shopping center where the small bank branch was located, it was already a bad scene.
Three gunmen were inside with hostages. An officer was already down and an L.A. County fire unit was tending
to him.
The shopping center was large, with a grocery store, three restaurants, and several small retail outlets located
around the perimeter. The gunmen were smart. They knew we would not engage in aggressive gunfire with so
many people around. Several patrol units were trying to get people out of the lot while keeping new people from
coming in. As Alex and I were getting into position after being briefed, two guys came out shooting. And sadly,
it became North Hollywood all over again. Several cops opened fire. Nothing penetrated their body armor.
Both men calmly walked out onto the street, blocked off now with police barricades. They turned one way, shot
off a round in the direction of officers, then kept walking. Clearly, they wanted to die, and within a minute, a
SWAT sharpshooter took them out with one headshot each. Alex and I never discharged our weapons.
SWAT went into the bank to look for more suspects then let the customers and employees out. All these
people were now lined up waiting to be questioned. On the most harrowing day of their lives, they couldn’t just
go home. They were now part of a crime scene. In addition to the two gunmen and the officer who was
critically wounded, two bank employees lay dead inside. The mood was somber as it is anytime an officer goes
down. They got him out of there and over to the hospital down the street for stabilization. Then he would be
transported to the nearest trauma center. Unfortunately, because of the latest budget cuts, the nearest trauma
center was at County USC near downtown.
Alex and I walked up to the entrance to the bank. Detectives Mark Gonzales and Amelia Carter were
already there.
“That was close,” Gonz said. “Too much like 1997 for my taste. But we were ready this time.” In 1997 a
bank robbery went down in North Hollywood. Three men armed with automatic weapons that could go
through body armor outgunned police trained to handle just this type of thing—except that the assholes wore
body armor as well. In this case, their toys were bigger—and better—than ours. Two people were killed and
fifteen injured, including ten police officers. It was the worst bank robbery in L.A.’s history. This was too
familiar.
“We were ready?” Amelia Carter arched a skinny brow at her partner then turned to us. “The last time our
hero was in a gun fight was at the academy. He shot the cardboard housewife with the bag of groceries.”
“You wound me, Carter,” Gonz said, clutching his chest. “You really do.” Mark and Amelia had been
friends since the academy, and it was a fluke, plain and simple, that they became partners. He was a hulk of a
man and she was about as big as a minute. Gonzales played football with UCLA before a knee injury sidelined
him long enough for him to find something else to love: police work. He joined up right out of college. Mark
went through a messy divorce last year so he and I have that in common.
Amelia was in the army for four years before she joined the department. She is married to Daniel Rios, who
works in the DA’s office and does legal work for migrant farm workers on the side, pro bono. She is a great
cop. And tough. She had to be, growing up in South Central with five brothers, raised by her dad. In her case,
size does not matter.