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

Chapter 64 The Suspicious Toyota Corolla
It's almost seven o'clock.

Eric walked out of the West Canyon Police Station, found his Ford Raptor, and sat down. He looked at the police station plaza not far ahead and couldn't help but stretch.

"I have to come back tomorrow," Eric thought with a headache. This kind of review process is not only tedious but also a bit troublesome.

Even he has to think things through before he can say anything, otherwise, if they catch him red-handed, he'll be relentlessly pursued by the censors, and the investigation will only drag on longer.

After taking one last look at the police station building, Eric started the engine, stepped on the gas, and drove away.

If there are no problems, he can probably start his official vacation after tomorrow's review.

Another major event has put me on leave.

Eric, with one hand on the steering wheel, looked at the pedestrians around him and felt the prosperity of the city, a sense of contentment appearing on his face.

As always, I drove towards home.

Ultimately, the car stopped at a traffic light on the side of the street, facing an intersection—the intersection of Lincoln Avenue and Broadway.

Every time I drive here, it means I'm not far from his home.

It was around 7 or 8 p.m., the busiest time in Los Angeles, and this was a relatively bustling area. Not only was there more traffic, but there were also many pedestrians on the streets.

Eric didn't care about any of this; these scenes were normal in a metropolis like Los Angeles, and he had seen far too many of them.

However, some situations at the intersection caught his attention.

At the end of the street, a patrol car with flashing red and blue lights was parked, and two patrol officers from another precinct were chasing a black man.

"It's a black guy again."

As the three men quickly disappeared around the left corner of the street, Eric didn't know what to think. Seeing the traffic light turn green ahead, he steered the car into the left lane.

As he drove into the left lane, he saw two patrol officers temporarily subdue the black man who had apparently done something wrong.

However, judging from the bag at the black man's feet, he most likely snatched the bag from a passerby.

"Get down! Now!"

The young black man was relatively obedient; under the coercion of his two patrol colleagues, he slowly lay down on the ground.

To Eric's bewilderment, the young black man, for some reason, slowly stood up with his hands raised.

"Do not move!"

The patrol officers' voices suddenly rose, attracting the attention of many passersby.

"Get down! Don't move! Or I'll shoot you!"

"warn you!"

"Let me see your hands!!!"

Even after two patrol officers gave him a strong warning, the young Black man suddenly reached into his clothes and made a rummaging motion.

In that one glance, Eric was genuinely stunned.

"Good guy."

As if to confirm Eric's words, his two patrol colleagues immediately and decisively opened fire.

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!
For the seven or eight seconds until the young Black man fell, the gunfire continued unabated, totaling 30 shots.

This means that the two patrol officers emptied their Glock 19 pistols within those seven or eight seconds. All that remained were the patrol officers' reports: "Shooting! Shooting! The prisoner must stop moving! Stop moving!"

Eric's lips twitched slightly, and he gently pressed the accelerator and drove away.

He found the result both absurd and not particularly surprising.

Perhaps it was because this land beneath his feet was too eerie, but many of the dark-skinned people seemed to lack common sense, making it impossible for him to understand what their next move should be.

Like this black man, he was at best giving his two patrol colleagues a gift of leave for a major incident.

So sometimes you really have to listen to the patrol officers, but of course you can't listen to them completely, because sometimes some patrol officers are deliberately trying to cause you trouble.

Just keep your hands in his line of sight. If you know the law, even better, because some patrol officers genuinely don't know it and just spout off whatever comes to mind.
As Eric was thinking, he suddenly realized that the main road in his neighborhood was right in front of him, so he steered the car onto the side road.

But just as he drove to the intersection of the side road, a car parked on the side caught his attention.

It was a Toyota Corolla. The reason it caught his attention was because the car didn't fit the vibe and class of his community.

Importantly, he had never seen the car among his neighbors or nearby residents.

You should know that when he first came into this world, he felt uneasy and uncomfortable, so he carefully observed his living environment using military binoculars and by taking a walk around.

He knows whether the neighbors or nearby residents are male or female, or what kind of monsters or ghosts live in that building, and even what kind of car they drive.

Furthermore, the fact that this Toyota Corolla had privacy film on it immediately gave Eric a strange feeling.

Eric subconsciously raised an eyebrow and slowly drove past the Toyota Corolla, keeping his head still and looking at the rearview mirror.

As the distance increased, Eric could roughly see the people sitting inside through the front window of the Toyota Corolla.

Although not very clear, his distinctive face still made him squint slightly, and a somewhat ambiguous expression appeared on his face.

"An Asian face? Or rather, a Korean?"

Eric chuckled as he watched the Toyota Corolla disappear from the rearview mirror.

Why is it South Korea again?

It's hard for him not to overthink it, especially since he just arrested a South Korean today.

To his dismay and amusement, however, the Toyota Corolla reappeared shortly after he drove away until it was no longer visible in his rearview mirror.

"Is this aimed at me?" Eric thought to himself, continuing to drive home while keeping an eye on the Toyota Corolla trailing far behind.

Once home came into view, he drove the car with one hand toward the garage next door, and then pulled a handgun from the storage compartment next to it.

The Carnik TP9SF boasts excellent shooting accuracy, allowing it to participate in some competitions. It possesses all the fancy features of the TP9 series pistols while still maintaining remarkably superior performance.

Of course, all this is because he likes the gun's high magazine capacity, which allows it to maintain continuous firepower. So the magazine that came with the Carnik TP9SF in his hand has a capacity of 20 rounds.

Click, click, click!

While waiting for the garage door to rise automatically, Eric parked the car in front of the door, quickly checked the Carnik TP9SF with his free hands, and after confirming that there were no problems, placed the gun flat on his knees.

He glanced at the rearview mirror and the car's rearview mirror again, and as the Toyota Corolla slowly drove up, the expression on his face became as if he had a facial paralysis.

He wanted to see what those Korean bastards in the car were up to.

(End of this chapter)