His name was Robert (Bobby) Martin Morgan. His End Of Watch came on a cold, snowy January night. As the snowflakes gently fell onto his still warm body, they lay quietly as did he. His still open eyes, glistened as the melted snow streamed down his face like tears.
Across from him lay his pregnant wife, Holly Redmond Morgan and their two-year old son, Bobby, Jr. They lay on a bed of soft pink snow, colored by their life’s blood.
The deafening sound of silence was interrupted by a car revving its engine in the distance, followed by the ear-piercing, haunting wails of sirens responding to Bobby’s desperate last words…”officer down.”
Firefighters were the first to arrive on scene and stood motionless as they gazed upon the carnage that lay before them. Despite the freezing temperature, the engineer paramedic took off her turnout jacket and cried as she gently placed it over the tiny, bullet-ridden body of Bobby, Jr. She was unconcerned about being reprimanded for having potentially compromised the crime scene. As she moved toward Bobby, she could see that his throat had been slashed almost to the point of decapitation.
Police officers arrived seconds later. After assessing the scene, Sergeant Holbrook immediately called for the Crime Scene Investigators. Lieutenant Foy, who never silenced his radio, heard the call and immediately had an uneasy feeling. He had always called it “gut crawl.” He made a quick call to Nedward and they were on their way.
Foy, never one to obey rules, tore through the familiar yellow tape and was trying to bully his way past the guarding officers, with Nedward close behind. Holbrook knew Foy, and although he didn’t care for him, he told the officers to let him through.
“What have we got here?” asked Foy. Holbrook said “we’ve got three bodies…or what’s left of three bodies. This is one of the worst massacres I have ever seen.”
When Foy saw who it was, his lips tightened and the look in his eyes was frightening, almost like the look of a crazed killer.
Holbrook said “this was personal and somebody was sending a strong message.”
“Yeah, and I think we got the message,” said Foy.
“What do you mean?” asked Holbrook. “Nothing,” said Foy. Holbrook looked at him and said “if you know something about this, you need to tell me.” Foy, true to character said, “I don’t answer to you and I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Rather than start a pissing match, Holbrook let it go. He figured it was just Foy being Foy. He had always been a hot-head and Holbrook made sure he heard him when he said “you’re still an asshole.”
Then he quickly turned and said “we need to notify next of kin.” Foy looked at him and said “you just did.” Holbrook gave him a quizzical look but again, let it go.
Nedward, kneeling beside an almost unrecognizable Holly, quietly fought back tears as the paramedics told him they needed to load her body for the coroner.
“Just a few more minutes,” he said. The paramedics tried to be respectful and gentle when they said “I’m sorry, but we have to move her.”
Foy came over and told Nedward that they needed to go. Nedward said “This shouldn’t have happened.” Foy looked at him and said “hey. Bobby knew what he was into. Holly knew what he was into. Don’t turn this into a guilt trip for yourself…or me. Shit happens. You know that but rest assured that we’re going to get the son-of-a-bitch who did this and I need you to stay focused right now.”
As they maneuvered Holly’s mangled body onto the stretcher, Nedward thought he heard a faint moan.