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

Chapter 295 Investigation (Three-in-One)

Upon arriving at St. Jude Medical Center, Eric parked his car smoothly in an empty space in the St. Jude Medical Center parking lot.

Eric turned off the engine, glanced at the bustling hospital building, and then got out of the car.

As I walked toward the hospital lobby, I glanced at the parking lot.

With a quick glance, Eric spotted Diego's pickup truck, parked not far from his spot.

"Looks like something really has happened." Eric walked straight toward the building's automatic doors.

The automatic door closed behind me, isolating me from some of the outside noise.

The distinctive smell of disinfectant from the hospital wafted over, and even during the day, the lobby remained brightly lit.

The waiting area was filled with patients and their families with various expressions.

The background noise was quite noisy, with hushed conversations, children crying, and broadcast calls all mixed together.

Eric calmly swept his gaze across the crowd, habitually observing his surroundings, before walking toward the counter marked with "Consultation".

Inside, a young female nurse was working on documents with her head down. When she sensed someone approaching, she looked up.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a family member of a patient who has just been admitted to the hospital, Mr. Diego Rodriguez.”

Perhaps surprised by Eric's handsome appearance and sunny disposition that was so different from what one would expect in a hospital setting, the young nurse raised an eyebrow, pushed up her glasses, looked at the screen in front of her, and began typing on the keyboard.

"Rodriguez? Hmm, he's probably in the waiting area outside ICU 015."

Walk straight along the main corridor, turn right after you see the central garden, and it's at the end.

"Thank you." Eric nodded in acknowledgment, turned, and walked into the main corridor the nurse had indicated, but his brow furrowed.

Intensive care unit? This means Diego is in serious trouble.

Eric followed the nurse's directions and walked inside. The environment became quieter and the light became softer, but the heavy feeling in the air only increased.

Occasionally, medical staff in white coats or surgical gowns would hurry by with serious expressions.

Turning the corner, a relatively independent waiting area came into view.

It's much quieter here.

A few people sat scattered around, each looking exhausted, creating a gloomy and depressing atmosphere.

Eric's gaze continued down the corridor, instantly locking onto the figure sitting on a bench in front of an intensive care unit.

Who else could it be but Diego?

He sat alone, slumped in the cold plastic chair, a stark contrast to the upright and talkative foreman he usually was.

With his back hunched, head bowed, hands clasped tightly against his forehead, elbows resting on his legs, he looked like a stone sculpture.

Even from a distance, Eric could feel the profound despair and a silent, intense burning anger.

Eric slowed his pace and approached silently, pausing for a moment on Diego's hunched back before turning to the observation window of the intensive care unit.

Through the window, you can see a young girl lying inside, her eyes closed, an oxygen tube in her nose, an IV line and monitoring cables attached to her arm, and monitoring electrodes on her chest.
With just a glance, Eric already had a vague idea in his mind.

Judging from her appearance alone, the girl inside should be Diego's daughter.

Eric looked away and sat down in the empty seat next to Diego.

The slight creaking of the plastic chair jolted Diego, who was lost in his emotions, awakening him to look up abruptly.

His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, yet a mad flame burned deep within them. But when Diego saw it was Eric, he froze, his pupils contracting in shock, his lips trembling violently as he hoarsely squeezed out a few words.

"Mr. Stevens? What's wrong?"

“Camillo was worried about you, so I came to check on you,” Eric interrupted him, the information he had gleaned from that brief glance being enough to form the basis of his judgment.

Diego hesitated about what to do.

"What happened?"

Diego seemed to have been stung by the question, abruptly avoiding Eric's gaze, letting out a sob that sounded like a choked sob.

Diego then wiped his face haphazardly, trying to hide his lapse in composure, but his trembling shoulders gave it all away.

Eric remained silent for a moment, saying nothing, but looked calmly at the girl in the observation window ahead, waiting for Diego to compose himself.

After a while, Diego took a deep breath, followed Eric's gaze, looked at his daughter inside the window, and finally spoke.

“My daughter is inside. Her name is Anna. She is only eighteen years old.”

Eric nodded slightly, saying nothing, simply indicating that he was listening.

Eric's silence acted like a magnet, drawing Diego's pent-up emotions to a breaking point.

"She was so well-behaved and sensible. Even after my divorce from her mother, she was very sad but never showed it in front of me. Instead, she would try her best to make me happy and work hard to get into university."

Diego seemed to be venting his suppressed emotions by talking about a bunch of irrelevant things, but at the end, he suddenly stopped and didn't continue.

“Mr. Stevens, could you give me a few days off? Don’t worry, Camillo is my apprentice, he’s skilled enough, he won’t affect the progress of the fence.”

“Of course.” Eric looked at Diego and patted him on the shoulder as he stood up.

"You can take as many days as you want."

As he spoke, Eric glanced at the girl in the room, said nothing, and continued.

"Then I'll go first, you have a good rest."

Diego forced a smile and nodded.

Eric sighed inwardly and turned to leave.

Diego's attempt to cover up his actions and his sudden request for leave seemed suspiciously like he was trying to hide something.

He realized that Diego definitely wanted to do something but didn't want others to know, or perhaps he was afraid that people would interfere with his plans, which was why he hadn't explained what had happened.

As for what it was, the key point naturally lies with his daughter.

Revenge? Or something else?
The word flashed through Eric's mind, and he habitually narrowed his eyes slightly.

Eric glanced at the nurses' station ahead, pursed his lips, and instead of heading towards the exit, he casually walked towards the nurses' station.

It wasn't peak visiting hours, and there was only one nurse at the nurses' station, a woman who looked to be around forty years old and had a lot of experience, entering data into the computer.

This age group is generally the head nurse, who is usually very familiar with the situation in the ward, so that they can monitor the symptoms and prescribe medication accordingly.

Eric observed her attire, adjusted his expression, furrowed his brow slightly, and conveyed just the right amount of worry and a hint of weariness in his eyes.

This fits the image of a visitor who is worried about his friend and his family. At this moment, Acting Level 4 (Mastery) finally found the best place to shine.

Eric approached the counter, his voice gentle but tinged with a hint of heaviness:

"excuse me."

The head nurse looked up, her professional expression carrying a hint of inquiry.

"Ok?"

Eric gestured towards the waiting area, his tone tinged with helplessness and concern:
"I am a friend of Mr. Diego Rodriguez, and his daughter Anna is inside."
But Diego is in a very bad state right now; he looks like he's about to break down. I tried to ask him for details, but he was too emotional to explain clearly.

Eric sighed, behaving like a friend who wanted to help but didn't know where to start.

"All I know is that the child was brought in urgently and the situation is very serious."

Could you tell me what Anna's condition is? Was it an accidental injury, or...?
This will give me some peace of mind, and help me figure out how to better support Diego. My God! He's carrying this all by himself; I'm so afraid he'll collapse.

Eric's words directly positioned him as a supporter who wanted to help his friend who was going through a breakdown, rather than a curious person who wanted to pry into his privacy.

They even focused the issue on the macro level of the nature of the injury, rather than specific details, thereby lowering the other party's guard.

Sure enough, the head nurse glanced at Eric, then looked towards the waiting area, a hint of sympathy flashing in her eyes.

She had seen too many distraught family members, and hesitated for a moment, after all, this involved the patient's privacy, but the head nurse still lowered her voice when she saw Eric's pained expression.

“I’m sorry, sir, we understand Mr. Rodriguez’s situation, but I cannot disclose specific medical details; that’s in accordance with regulations.”

Eric looked quite regretful: "Really can't I reveal anything? I really want to comfort him; he's my best friend."

The head nurse pursed her lips, seemingly considering her words, but ultimately spoke very cautiously.

"I can only say that this isn't the first time the child has come here. Besides the issue of medication overdose, the trauma recorded in the emergency room isn't entirely physiological."

By the way, I heard that when that child first came to the hospital the day before yesterday, the police came.

"The police came?" Eric repeated, his eyes appropriately showing shock and understanding. Eric nodded slightly, his voice lower.

"I understand. Thank you, alas, poor Diego, poor Anna."

"Spend more time with him; the support of family and friends is very important at this time," the head nurse kindly reminded him.

“I will, thank you, you’re a good person.” Eric nodded sincerely in thanks, then turned and left, his expression instantly returning to its previous calm.

For Eric, the head nurse's words contained enough information.

Diego's daughter was hospitalized due to a drug overdose.

Eric walked along, lost in thought.

When such cases involve the police, it is usually because of domestic violence, sexual assault, severe abuse, or other reasons that require legal and social intervention.

Domestic violence? Abuse? Impossible. If that's the case, Diego's daughter must have been harmed in some way.

The trauma was not entirely physical; it also pointed to psychological and mental trauma, combined with information from police intervention.
Eric had already cleared a path in an instant. He strode out of the hospital, got into his car, and looked back at the hospital through the windshield.

This information, combined with Diego's reaction, was enough for him to piece together the general outline of the incident.

Diego's daughter was severely assaulted the day before yesterday. She called the police, but after returning home, she attempted suicide due to a mental breakdown and was then sent to the hospital for the second time.

Moreover, there must have been some issue that led Diego to abandon conventional methods and decide to take revenge himself or plan to do something else.

Of course, this is just speculation, but Eric feels that it is not far from the truth.

Eric frowned, looking somewhat hesitant.

Should we get involved in this?
If his deduction is correct, Diego could very well drag himself into the abyss as well.

Eric instinctively recalled the girl lying in the observation window and Diego's words, and shook his head with a sigh.

He wasn't exactly a pushover, but he couldn't stand by and watch Diego fall into the abyss, because in his view it was completely unnecessary.

This has nothing to do with being a pushover; it's about inner choices.

"Alright, let's keep our minds clear and act according to the situation, as usual. After all, the reason why the architectural analysis was able to be upgraded to LV3 (Mastery) is because of Diego."

Eric took out his phone, found a name in his contacts: Bed Perk, followed by the note "Central Police Department".

This guy is also one of the senior officers in the Central Police Department, similar to Ray. They are acquaintances and belong to the same circle.

Putting everything else aside, his two years as a patrol officer weren't wasted.

And it seems this guy has been patrolling alone lately.

The phone rang four or five times before being answered. The background noise was a bit noisy, with radio static and faint conversations, as if it were coming from inside a police car or a duty room.

“Eric?” Bed’s voice sounded slightly surprised. “Hey, buddy, I heard you’re planning to abandon us and become a detective?”

"Did the news spread that fast?"

"of course."

Eric, not wanting to continue the conversation with Bed, changed the subject, saying, "Bed, I need your help with something."

"Huh?" Bed's tone was even more surprised.

"What's wrong with this world? Even Death needs help?"

“Be normal, Bed,” Eric said helplessly.

"Have you received a call from St. Jude Medical Center? It involves a young girl, but the situation might be more complicated, perhaps she has been assaulted and requires police intervention? Her last name is Rodriguez, Anna Rodriguez."

There was a moment of silence on Bed's end, followed by the soft sounds of keyboard typing and paper turning, clearly indicating that he was checking records.

"St. Jude is suspected of being assaulted by Rodriguez."

I heard Bed's mutterings coming from the phone, and then the keyboard clicks stopped.

“Yes, there was one. Around 4 a.m. the day before yesterday. There was a police report from St. Jude Medical Center. The internal system initially recorded that a girl had called the police because she had been assaulted, but…” Bed’s voice was filled with obvious doubt.

"This case is a bit strange."

Eric frowned, guessing that this was the main reason Diego had abandoned the conventional approach and decided to do it himself.

"how?"

"Our colleagues arrived at the scene to make initial contact, obtained basic information and clues about the suspect, and are now preparing to formally take statements and open a case."
However, after the girl and her guardian reported the incident, their attitude suddenly changed; they refused to formally file a case and refused to sign any written documents.

Bed said, "It seems like they're very resistant to our intervention. Isn't that strange? They even called the police on their own initiative."

Eric's gaze sharpened: "Does the record mention why they changed their minds? Usually, in these kinds of cases, the families don't do that."

Bed said, "The official record doesn't explicitly state the reason, but this matter is on the system, and theoretically, there will be a detective to conduct a follow-up assessment to determine whether it's worth pursuing."

However, in cases where even the victims refuse police intervention and case filing, few people will take the initiative to deal with this thankless and troublesome matter.

"What, Eric, do you know the person in question?"

"I suppose we have some connection," Eric said calmly.

"Bede, could you ask your colleague if they have any details about this? If possible, any clues would be helpful."

“OK!” Bed didn’t press further, he simply said.

"I'll ask for you, wait for my reply."

"Okay." Eric hung up the phone, leaned back in his chair, his expression uncertain.

Eric understood what Bedford was saying.

In theory, criminal cases are prosecuted by prosecutors, and prosecution can be initiated even if the victim does not cooperate.

However, cases without the cooperation of victims are extremely difficult to succeed, so even if the police file a case, prosecutors will not take on a case that is destined to be lost.

After all, unlike murder, which is a naturally compulsive case requiring police intervention, successful prosecution of sexual assault cases largely depends on the victim's testimony and cooperation.

Therefore, in practice, if the victim firmly refuses to pursue the matter, the police will find it difficult to proceed and can only choose to respect their decision and give up.

"So why did Diego give up on filing a case and choose to do it privately? There must be some reason behind this."

Eric glanced at his calm phone, now he just had to wait for Bed's message.

Bed didn't keep him waiting long; soon, his phone vibrated.

Eric answered the phone: "What did your colleague say? Bed?"

“This matter is fairly clear, Eric, but I don’t understand why they won’t file a case,” Bed said, then dictated information provided by his colleague.

"."

Soon, Eric finally understood the ins and outs of the matter. The matter itself was not so complicated; on the contrary, it was quite simple, so simple that it didn't require any brainpower.

The night before last, Diego's daughter Anna was taken by her friends to a party organized by her classmates to celebrate her high school graduation.

However, she was repeatedly sexually assaulted by multiple men.

“That’s all they know. This is all compiled, Eric,” Bed said, but his tone became hesitant the next second.

"You don't mean that?"

“I just want to get to the bottom of this, Bed,” Eric said calmly.

Did your colleague say what the victim's friend's name was, and where he lived?

Bedard paused for a moment, then didn't ask any more questions: "Farin Diaz, 1500 Taylor Street."

“Thanks, Bed,” Eric said with a smile.

“It’s okay, just let me know if you need anything,” Bed suddenly lowered his voice.

"To be honest, I can help you with whatever you want to do."

Eric declined, saying, "Let me see how things go, Bed."

“OK!” Bed replied.

"I'll treat you to drinks next time." Eric hung up the phone, his eyes turning dangerous as he put it down.

The whole thing started with Anna's friend.

With that in mind, Eric entered the address on the center console and then drove off toward 1500 Taylor Street.

He still lacks two very important pieces of information: the main reason Diego refused to file a case, and the reason for his despair.

-

1500 Taylor Street.

Eric looked at a somewhat old four-story apartment building.

The paint on the exterior walls is peeling and the wooden steps of the porch are also somewhat sunken.

Confirm destination.

Eric didn't get out of the car immediately. He drove across the street to a shady parking space, turned off the engine, and then began to observe the apartment building and its surroundings.

It's located on the edge of the community; it's quiet and there aren't many people around.

Eric scanned the porch, the corners of the eaves, and the utility poles across the street, but found no security cameras.

In these older residential areas, the density of privately installed surveillance cameras is far lower than in commercial areas or newly built apartments.

After observing and confirming that there were no risk factors, Eric took a mask from the car, put it on, and got out of the car to walk towards his residence.

His steps were unhurried, just like an ordinary person visiting a friend.

Eric walked slowly toward the main entrance and naturally pushed open the door, which was only slightly ajar.

Based on information such as the party and Diego's daughter Anna's age, Eric observed the entrances on each floor.

Finally, when I went up to the third floor, I found that the mailboxes on this floor were covered with band stickers, and there was a pair of dirty sneakers on the door.

Eric squinted slightly and walked to the door. He could hear the rather loud band music inside.

This perfectly matches the profile criteria for young people.

Because of the music, Eric reached out and pounded hard on the door.

Bang bang bang!

After a while, the door opened a crack, and the door chain was still hanging there.

"Who is it?" A disheveled young boy peered warily through the crack in the door.

The music was loud, there was no other conversation, and it wasn't an adult who opened the door, which fits the profile of someone alone in the room.

“Farin Diaz?” Eric said calmly, watching the young boy’s pupils shrink slightly, and then kicked him hard.

With a loud bang, the door chain snapped, and the door slammed against the wall.

The young boy behind the door was also knocked backward by the impact and fell to the ground with a thud. He looked at the masked man and his face was instantly filled with fear.

Eric slipped inside, slammed the door shut behind him, and saw the young boy moving backward in terror, his lips parted as if he wanted to scream.

Eric didn't give him a chance. He stepped forward, bent down, and with his right hand forming a knife, precisely slashed at the other man's carotid sinus.

The young boy's eyes widened suddenly, and without uttering a sound, his body went limp and he collapsed to the ground, temporarily losing consciousness.

After completing this step, Eric glanced around the room expressionlessly.

The living room was quite messy, with takeout boxes, game discs, and wrinkled clothes scattered everywhere.

Ignoring the young boy's behavior and the loud music that drowned out everything, Eric quickly checked the other rooms—the bedroom and the bathroom—to make sure no one else was there, then closed the blinds in the living room.

Eric glanced at the unconscious young boy, then continued walking towards the bathroom, where he found dirty clothes and a towel. He then filled a toothbrush and mouthwash cup with tap water and came out.

Then he began to deal with the unconscious young boy. Eric first tied his hands and feet tightly with clothes, then stuffed a towel into his mouth, and then splashed cold water from a mouthwash cup on his face.

*Snap!* The young boy convulsed violently, waking up. The instant his consciousness returned, fear overwhelmed him.
He found himself tied up, his mouth gagged, and the man who had suddenly barged in was squatting in front of him, staring at him with cold, emotionless eyes.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu"

Eric's lips twitched. This guy was terrified and started sobbing.

However, Eric thought about it and realized that it was true. The incident happened so suddenly, and he was wearing a mask to cover his face. Anyone would be terrified in that situation.

That's good, it actually makes it easier to get the truth out of you.

Eric said calmly, “I ask, you answer, nod or shake your head.”

If you don't nod or shake your head, I'll think you're useless, and the consequences will be severe.

So if you understand, just nod.

"Waaah!" The young boy cried as he nodded frantically.

Eric first confirmed his identity, saying, "Your name is Farin Diaz?"

Farin nodded frantically.

“Looks like I didn’t pick the wrong person,” Eric said.

“I will take the towel out of your mouth. If you shout, I will assume you are not cooperating, and the consequences will be severe. I don’t know what I will do to you. Just nod if you understand.”

Farin nodded frantically, at a rate as high as a motor.

Eric continued, "So, are you going to cooperate with me? Nod if you are."

Farin nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face.

(End of this chapter)