America: The Gear-Up Detective

Jose said excitedly, looking at everyone, "Simon Brand's bail officer said he received a call from Simon an hour ago."

Connor stood up, looked at the people in the conference room, his face serious, and said, "Jose, go find that bail officer and find out where Simon Brand is now. Remember to bring backup. He violated the bail conditions, so take him directly back to the police station for questioning."

Rod, go investigate the burly black man who clashed with Jackson that night, and everyone who has had a conflict with Jackson during this period;

Hank, go contact your colleagues in the anti-gang and anti-drug unit. You're more familiar with them. Ask them which gang this tattoo belongs to and where they gather.

This is a major operation, no ordinary one. For your colleagues, for Jackson, everyone, let's begin!

Everyone got up and walked out the door one after another, starting to go their separate ways.

......

Let's go back to eight o'clock.

The kidnapping operation has just ended.

Simon Brand was driving the car from the driver's seat.

Jackson was covered by an airtight hood, his hands and feet were tightly bound, and he was lying under the back seat to prevent passersby from seeing his condition.

Another black man wearing a baseball cap took off his gloves, took out a lighter, cracked the car window open a crack, and started smoking. The cigarette ash landed on Jackson's back, which was only covered by a vest, burning Jackson and causing him to writhe.

"Fuck! Who the hell are you guys?!"

And also, didn't your dad, who's nowhere to be found, teach you not to smoke in enclosed spaces?

The Black man kicked Jackson, then stubbed out his cigarette on Jackson's back, and said menacingly, "Fuck you! Behave yourself!"

Jackson's face, hidden beneath the hood, grimaced in pain, but he maintained the composure of a detective as he analyzed his current predicament.

"First of all, it's certain that I've never met these two people before, and there's no personal grudge between us. So why would they kidnap me? Do I look wealthy?"

Jackson then dismissed his own guess and tried to strike up a conversation with the two men, "Yo, bro, considering we're both in the cabinet, why did you kidnap me?"

No one answered; instead, he was met with two violent kicks.

Jackson's heart sank. "There are two possibilities. If they know I'm a cop, then these two are either professional hitmen or outlaws who will take care of me and then leave Los Angeles or even California."

In this situation, I have almost no hope of survival.

"If they didn't know I was a police officer, then I might still be saved!"

As Jackson was analyzing the situation, he noticed the vehicle had stopped moving.

Then he was dragged back and thrown to the ground, and then taken to another place.

Listening to the sound of metal opening and closing beside him, Jackson analyzed to himself, "Judging from the sound, it sounds like shipping containers? Is this a port?"

Then the hood was suddenly ripped off, and Jackson instinctively squinted. Before he could even adjust, a jet-black fist the size of a sandbag was already coming straight at him.

"Bang!" Jackson fell to the ground, blood gushing from his nose.

"You little black guy, you dare to steal my woman? Don't push your luck."

Upon hearing the familiar voice, Jackson finally saw Darian Weaver's menacing face.

"Oh no!" That was Jackson's first thought.

As he struggled to sit up, Jackson observed the inside of the container.

When he saw the familiar woman lying on the mattress behind him, still naked and covered in an unidentified white liquid, his heart sank.

"Did she know I was a police officer, or did she tell these people?"

......

Yellow Rose Bar.

Two hours have passed since Jackson was kidnapped.

Rod approached the bar owner and brought up the matter of investigating the surveillance footage.

The bar owner, Louis Robinson, is a retired police detective, and to this day, his bar still maintains some cooperation with the police department.

Therefore, without mentioning anything about needing a search warrant, they readily cooperated with Rhodes.

Inside the monitoring room.

Rhodes adjusted the monitoring time to the evening of three days ago.

Unlike the bar in Koreatown, the Yellow Rose Bar also has surveillance cameras installed inside. There are even prominent notices posted at the bar informing customers and staff that a surveillance system is in use.

In fact, the Los Angeles City Code (LAMC) Section 5C.4.3, "Nightlife Beverage Program," has specific requirements for the monitoring systems of independent bars or nightclubs.

The installed camera surveillance system must be operational during business hours, and the cameras must cover the interior, entrance, exit, and a certain area in front of and around the premises. The recordings must be kept for at least 30 days.

However, while regulations are regulations, only well-known, legitimately operating bars actually follow them. Apart from that, almost no other bars or nightclubs install cameras indoors, or the cameras they do install are frequently under maintenance.

The surveillance equipment at Yellow Rose Bar is of very good quality, and the images are very clear.

Looking at the video of the burly black man Darian Weaver and the scantily clad Queenie Ward, he took a picture of their faces and sent it to Connor in the detective department.

Five minutes later, Connor replied:

"That woman has no criminal record in the police system."

As for that burly black man, he's a troublesome fellow.

Then, Connor sent an email containing Darian Weaver's detailed information.

Rhodes opened the email.

Looking at Darian Weaver's long list of crimes, I felt a bit overwhelmed.

"Robbery, rape, illegal drug trafficking, illegal possession of firearms, assaulting police officers..."

"With so many crimes, how is this guy still wandering the streets? People like him should just die in prison!"

Rod made a sarcastic remark, but he felt he had found the right target.

Jackson's disappearance must be related to this guy.

"Where are you?" Rod murmured.

......

Meanwhile, on the other side...

Jose obtained Simon Brand's address from the bail officer and went to his residence with several patrol officers.

Outside a shabby car bar.

After putting on his bulletproof vest and checking his Sig Sauer pistol again, José went to Simon Brand's door.

"Knock knock knock!"

"Simon Brand, this is LAPD!"

Hurry up and open the door!

Jose listened intently to the sounds behind the door. Just as Jose signaled the patrolman behind him to use a hammer to open the door, Simon, sporting a filthy braid, opened the door.

Seeing the police officers who almost filled the entire corridor, some even carrying several AR-15 rifles, Simon immediately raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "What's happening?"

One officer restrained Simon's hands, while another began searching him before handcuffing him.

Jose then said, "You were arrested on suspicion of kidnapping, violating your bail conditions. You have the right to remain silent..."

Simon Brand leaned against the wall, listening calmly as José finished delivering the Miranda Manifesto.