The real life of an American police officer: Winning over others with virtue

Chapter 245 Blood Scab

"Oh, I'm sorry, officer." The bald driver seemed a little flustered and apologized first.

"I was distracted just now and didn't see it. I'll pay attention next time."

Eric stared at the bald driver, his right hand resting on his holster, and gestured.

"It's okay, please show me your driver's license and vehicle registration form."

This guy definitely has a big problem.

His expression was indeed spot-on: his brows were furrowed, his eyes darted around, and his lips were slightly parted—a classic look of panic as someone caught red-handed doing something wrong.

But the slight twitching of his lower right eyelid for less than half a second proved that he was suppressing some real emotion.

Because true panic is a whole-body experience, it doesn't manifest as this kind of control over local muscles.

Upon hearing this, the bald driver glanced at Eric and took a deep breath.

"Okay, officer, please wait a moment."

The bald driver fumbled around in the storage compartment on the center console for a moment, found the vehicle registration documents, and handed them to Eric through the car window.

Then, he took out his wallet and accurately picked out the thin driver's license from a pile of cards.

Eric took them one by one, spreading the registration card and driver's license out on the ticket book, comparing the bald driver with the photo on the license.

He silently memorized the bald driver's name: Damon Ike.

Then, staring at the bald driver, he looked down at the walkie-talkie worn on his chest and spoke.

"10-L-11, calling the dispatch center."

"copy (I heard it)"

"Please verify that the citizen's driver's license matches the vehicle." Eric relayed the information from the driver's license and vehicle registration card.

Dispatch Center: "Received!"

In just a short while, the dispatch center sent back a reply.

The bald driver's license and vehicle registration documents are all in perfect order.

Moreover, he is not a wanted criminal by the system.

Eric, whose identity was clean, nodded. Under the bald driver's gaze, he filled out the ticket, wrote down the relevant fine and reason, tore it off, and handed it to the bald driver.

"Hello, this is your ticket. Please review the details of your violation and the fine. This is a legally mandated action, and we request that you pay it promptly."

Also, I'd like to inform you that the entire process was recorded on audio and video for future reference. This is my badge number. If you have any objections, you can resolve them through legal procedures.

“Okay.” The bald driver reached out and took it. Eric glanced at his fingers instinctively, then returned his driver’s license and vehicle registration certificate.

"Officer, may I go now?" the bald driver asked.

Eric glanced around the car, took a step back, and nodded:

"Yes, you can go now."

Upon hearing this, the bald driver did not linger and quickly drove away from the spot.

Eric stood there, watching the other person leave, then turned back to the Explorer patrol car, carefully picked out the small crumb from his pocket and placed it on the ticket book, examining it in the sunlight.

It wasn't that he was being nosy, but the bald driver's situation was indeed a bit suspicious.

This guy put on a very convincing act, but to his eyes, it was full of flaws.

This debris resembles dried soil, but with a different texture and a surface exhibiting fine cracks, like those on a dried-up riverbed.

The color is an uneven dark brown.

Eric frowned. The color seemed somewhat similar to common trunk stains, but there was a crucial difference.

Because this stuff is different in form and texture from common substances like rust, damp soil, and engine oil.

Remembering the bald driver's deliberate act, Eric's intuition told him that this guy was up to no good. Eric took a transparent evidence bag from the locker and carefully put the item inside.

Eric then glanced at the passable intersection and drove away from where he stood.

He had more important things to do than issuing tickets.

-

555 Ramirez Street, Los Angeles.

A conspicuous Explorer patrol car was parked in the square outside, close to the roadside.

"It looks like it's quite large." Eric was sitting in the driver's seat, his left hand casually resting on the window, his eyes constantly scanning inside.

He is located within a very important law enforcement complex within the LAPD.

The Forensic Laboratory (SID) headquarters is the core center and main laboratory for all forensic science work of the LAPD. Most complex physical evidence analyses, such as DNA, toxicology, firearms testing, and trace analysis, are conducted here.

Also located here is the headquarters of RHD's Detective Service, which is responsible for investigating the city's most serious and complex cases, including murder, kidnapping, and major robbery.

Of course, this is just the headquarters.

The LAPD has small field forensics offices in several geographic regions.

If he wants to verify the fragments in the evidence bag, he should go to the forensic office inside the West Canyon Police Department.

But there was nothing he could do; the guy he knew better had moved from the small crime scene investigation office at the West Canyon Police Department to a much bigger stage.

After Eric finished observing, he saw a middle-aged man walk out of the building.

Hey! Hope!

Yes, the person he was looking for was Hope. When he reported the case, Hope was the team of forensic investigators who responded to the scene.

For example, the previous murder case and the apartment case.

Hearing the shouts, Hope saw the police car parked over there, and Eric waving at him. He walked over with a helpless expression.

"Eric, don't tell me you just want to have breakfast with me?"

Hope glanced at her watch, then changed her tone, "Oh, wait, lunch? If so, could you please come back at the appointed time? I can show you around the forensic science building."

Eric ignored Hope's complaints: "It feels good to get promoted, doesn't it?"

"Not bad," Hope sighed, her face showing the marks of an all-nighter.
"So what is it that you had to call me out? I'm busy, Eric. Shouldn't you be patrolling the streets right now?"

“We’re on patrol right now, Hope.” Eric grinned, and under Hope’s disdainful gaze, handed her the evidence bag.

"Any major cases recently?"

As Hope took the bag of evidence Eric handed her, she casually replied.

"Of course there are. There are new cases every day, and we can't keep up at all."

As he spoke, he lifted the bag of evidence and examined it closely, then frowned.

"What is this stuff?"

Eric offered his guess: "A scab?"

Based on the information available, Eric felt that only this thing could connect the driver's problem to the issue.

After saying that, Hope's expression turned serious: "It does look like a scab."

He put it away and looked at Eric: "So this is what you're doing?"

“I stopped a Toyota Camry. I pried it out from under the trunk, provided the car was perfectly clean, Hope,” Eric said, tearing a page from his notebook and handing it over.

"My gut feeling is that the driver is suspicious. Here is his name and license number. I hope this helps."

(End of this chapter)