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

Chapter 340 Fame Spreads Far and Wide
Lis's heart sank. Sudden death?

Considering Weeks' death today and the suspicious alteration of the action log, this all seems too coincidental.

Reese glanced at Howard subconsciously, and Howard confirmed the news with a barely perceptible nod.

"Sudden death? Where? When?"

Carl raised an eyebrow.

Howard said, "Hey, Reese, relax, take a deep breath." Then he added to Carl:
"The lieutenant had just returned from a fierce battle."

“It’s alright, it’s not a secret, nor is it something that can’t be told to others,” Carl said.

“Early yesterday morning, at his home in San Diego, I knew it was sudden and we were all heartbroken, but the work must go on, Lieutenant.”

He paused for a moment, then said, "So now I'm taking over the matter. I wonder if that will clear up your doubts?"

Reese pursed her lips, looking into Carl's calm, unwavering eyes, and then at Howard's indifferent expression, showing no intention of delving deeper.

Their faces showed only the indifference of a task handover.

"So?" Carl asked.

"Can you cooperate with me?"

Rhys took a deep breath and asked, "What do you want to know?"

"When was the last time you saw Sergeant Weeks? Did you ever have an argument? Or did he ever reveal any suicidal thoughts to you?" Carl asked, opening his notebook.

“Two days ago, right outside the camp medical center, I escorted him and his brothers home.”

Rhys forced himself to speak, but as he said this, a deep sadness welled up in his eyes. The team, his brothers, now he was truly all alone.

"Dispute? No, misanthropy? Agent Carl, are you kidding me?" Repressed emotions erupted at this moment, and Reese's voice suddenly rose.

“Weikes is the cornerstone of our team, a veteran who has been through four rounds of competition!”

He watched his brothers fall before his eyes and his teammates disappear in the explosion, but he never backed down!

He never abandoned any of his brothers; he understood the pain of loss better than anyone, and cherished every day of his life more than anyone else!

Rhys's voice echoed in the silent corridor.

“He was talking to me yesterday about going camping once he recovered from his injury. He told me that he had promised Jenny he would teach her to swim.”

All he could think about was how to survive, how to take care of his family, and how to ensure that his fallen brothers wouldn't be forgotten! You ask me if he ever had suicidal thoughts?

"Ok."

Carl's expression remained unchanged as he calmly stated, "Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but I only care about the facts. We will conduct a full investigation into Sergeant Weeks' death."

We will keep a record of the information you provide. Thank you for your cooperation. Please contact us if you have any further information.

"Have you confirmed it yet, Agent?" Reese interrupted abruptly.

"What?" Karl was taken aback.

“The cause of Weeks’ death,” Rhys said in a deep voice.

“Lieutenant, do not doubt my abilities. The forensic doctor and I have confirmed that there was a self-inflicted wound on the body, penetrated by a 9mm bullet.”

Rhys's eyes narrowed slightly: "What gun? A military pistol?"

Carl looked at Howard.

“It’s Reese, his own Sig pistol. I saw the evidence,” Howard said.
"That was a gift that our team gave him personally."

Carl shook his head, closed his notebook, stopped taking notes, and turned to leave.

Howard watched Carl leave, a complex emotion flashing across his face. He turned to the silent Reese, and finally let out a soft sigh.

"Alright, you should go back and get some rest."

Rhys didn't move: "Sir, I suspect there's a problem with the intelligence on the operation."

Howard said helplessly, "Reese, you're tired."

“No, I’m perfectly sober,” Reese said.

"Sir, I need to see the Major General!" Howard paused for a moment, then nodded subconsciously.

--------------

Several LAPD patrol cars, along with a number of vehicles bearing FBI and forensic identification markings, were haphazardly parked in front of the greyish-white house half-hidden by oak trees.

The once tranquil and elegant neighborhood streetscape has been disrupted.

Detectives, police officers, and forensic personnel in various uniforms moved in and out of the house like worker ants.

"Eric, to be honest, what are you doing here? I remember you went off to be some kind of boring detective, didn't you?"

An older patrolman was directing the scene, while the stunningly beautiful woman was genuinely a little skeptical.

He stared at Eric again, his mind filled with the scene from earlier.

This stunningly beautiful woman exuded an undeniable aura of authority, instantly taking control of the entire room. She then produced her FBI badge and told him, "This is an FBI case. The FBI will be in charge here. Please assist us."

Immediately afterwards, Eric, who was known as the Grim Reaper, suddenly appeared and said to him, "Hey, Renato, it's you! Long time no see!"

Renato's cheek twitched. He had verified that the FBI had indeed notified the police department of the situation.

Eric crossed his arms and watched Tifa walk into the house, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

The mother and daughter had already been calmed down by Tifa, and now they should probably call Lieutenant Reese.

Given that the attacker was present at Lieutenant Reese's home and the pistol was still there, Lieutenant Reese should be safe.

Once Lieutenant Reese returns, the situation will improve dramatically.

“Of course, it’s to assist the FBI in their investigation,” Eric replied to the veteran patrolman.

Although San Pedro is adjacent to the coast, it is actually a port community in Los Angeles and is under the jurisdiction of the Port Police Department.

Renato is one of the port police's veterans, nearing retirement.

Thinking of this, Eric shook his head inwardly. Most of the patrol officers he knew were seasoned veterans.

The circle had become fixed, but Renato wasn't someone he knew personally; he was an old friend of his former retired partner.

He saw off three of his retired colleagues, and over time, he got to know many seasoned veterans.

"what's the situation?"

Renato watched as the two bodies were carried out of the house one after the other, and asked in a low voice.

"Don't tell me you did it?"

Eric was speechless for a moment. Why did these old hands always assume that he was the one who did it whenever they saw him at the scene?
His reputation as the Grim Reaper was all fabricated by these old foxes.

Who would like the title of Grim Reaper!

However, this time it really was him who did it, and he couldn't even refute it.

“See!” Renato said calmly, with an expression that said, “I knew it.”

"I knew it was."

"Renato, can you tell me exactly how you've slandered me?" Eric asked helplessly.

“Hey kid, tell him!” Renato said, pointing to the young patrolman who was standing guard over the banner but had been secretly watching.

Eric looked up and saw the young patrolman staring at him, his eyes filled with undisguised admiration and respect.

"When death goes to war, corpses follow. If you encounter one, be sure to befriend him; he might save your life in a crisis."

Seeing the young patrolman's excited expression, Eric's expression froze. These rumors were getting more and more outrageous.

Eric's expression made Renato chuckle.

"Rookie, I've heard so much about you since the police academy."

Don't look at me like that, Eric. It's not my fault. It's just that a few old guys couldn't stay idle after retiring and went to the police academy to become instructors.

Yes! You guessed it, it's your old partners.

(End of this chapter)