Haven't Settled. The so-called countermeasures were, of course, nonsense. To put it bluntly, they simply meant to quickly mobilize the NYPD's public relations department to disavow responsibility. It's hard to say exactly which cases will be implicated, but a rough timeframe is possible.
The supplier of the cotton swabs in Jack's hand is called White Tip Cotton Company. About a month ago, they secured government contracts in New York City and several surrounding cities to supply cotton swabs to police crime labs and other departments in those cities.
While this company's business isn't limited to this area, the FBI has discovered that, to fulfill these new contracts, they've opened a cotton swab processing plant in Brooklyn, New York—the destination of Jack and Mike Taylor's trip.
If the problem can be confirmed to lie with this newly opened cotton swab processing plant, then it's virtually certain that the contaminated swabs entered the crime labs within the past month.
This also aligns with the DNA database's data update timeline. In other words, even without Sheldon Hawke's minor misstep, the problem wouldn't have been discovered for long.
The problem now is that while the estimated timeframe of just over a month doesn't sound long, it's actually quite significant. Given the busy nature of the CSI lab alone, Mike Taylor, the head of the lab, roughly estimates that there are over 200 cases involving potentially contaminated DNA evidence.
Of these, at least 30 to 40 serious crimes have resulted in convictions based on single DNA evidence, implying at least 30 to 40 serious criminals.
This is still a low estimate, as some cases often involve more than just one suspect.
"Given that the procurement of these swabs involves a government contract, what are the chances that the NYPD will stay out of this?" Jack asked Mike Taylor, weaving through traffic in his Dodge Hellcat.
This was, of course, a euphemism; he couldn't directly ask the head of the CSI New York lab if he himself would be implicated.
"From what I know about Commissioner Reagan, the pressure probably won't reach me. But some people won't miss this opportunity and might just take advantage of it. Whether the media or the public thinks the city is investing too much or too little in this area, politicians will always find a reason to criticize and deflect responsibility."
Mike Taylor wasn't some lab-bound nerd. Even though, like Frank Reagan, he wasn't interested in politics and was more focused on his own little turf, that didn't stop him from understanding the situation.
He addressed Jack's concerns bluntly. Technically, the NYPD and its affiliated CSI labs were also victims, but the public clearly didn't see it that way.
While they feared the criminals who might be released back into society, they subconsciously wanted to know the true culprit behind all this.
When faced with such a question, the public didn't have much reasoning ability and naturally believed the media and public opinion, especially those who considered themselves intelligent and capable of "independent thinking." They were natural victims of conspiracy theories.
It was obvious who the city government and politicians, responsible for this, would choose as a scapegoat. This was why Jack and Mike Taylor, even before fully determining the cause, had Danny inform his father and sister.
Machines rumbled, workers toiled relentlessly. Even in this New York winter, the shabby, cramped factory was bustling with activity. Even if the head of White Tip Cotton had the courage to demand a search warrant from Mike Taylor, even with his NYPD badge, he could only stand aside obediently when faced with Jack's FBI ID, though he had already realized something.
How many steps were involved in processing cotton and plastic swabs into a single cotton swab? Jack honestly had no idea, but he did know that standard disinfection methods could kill bacteria but not eliminate DNA residue.
Watching a girl, clearly still underage, combing through the cut cotton strips with her bare hands, Jack and Mike Taylor exchanged a glance, a sudden realization dawning on them.
"It's more than that." Jack waved his hand in the air, the flying cotton fibers clearly visible under the light. Workers at other stations occasionally touched their faces and noses with gloved hands. He even heard someone sneeze, and no one here was wearing a mask.
"I'm surprised such a small workshop could win a government contract," Jack said, almost unable to bear to look directly at Mike Taylor's dark face.
They employed underage workers, with virtually no labor and fire safety measures. As for the issue of residual DNA, it seemed like a minor "problem." Jack wouldn't be surprised if this small workshop exploded.
The original hope of simply finding a key oversight and ruling out a single DNA error had been dashed.
However, the CSI lab did its best to make a technical remedy. The factory manager handed over a list of all personnel who might have come into contact with the cotton, and several CSI researchers who rushed to the scene collected DNA from these workers for screening.
These specialized tasks should be left to professionals. Fortunately, the CSI Lab isn't just a genetics lab specializing in DNA testing. While DNA evidence might be inadmissible in court due to flaws, other physical evidence, such as trace evidence and fingerprints, can still be used as evidence.
Three days later, when Jack finally completed his report and officially handed over the case to the U.S. Attorney's Office, the situation finally became clear.
"So, this time, our mayor and the NYPD are on the same side?" Listening to Dana Moger's account in her office and analysing recent news reports, Jack had a rough idea of the situation.
Despite the CSI Lab's best efforts and the District Attorney's Office's proactive work, a number of serious criminals were successfully acquitted, sending panic throughout New York City and a surge of public opinion.
"This afternoon, the mayor will hold a joint press conference with the NYPD and the City Council's Public Safety Committee. Frank hopes you'll visit his office beforehand."
The FBI's New York office wasn't caught up in this incident. After all, with someone's handling style, most criminals wouldn't make it to court. In the rare cases where DNA is the sole evidence for a conviction, his female boss was generally quite respectful.
"Okay, but after this is over, I need to leave New York for a few days and go to Virginia Beach." Jack wasn't bargaining for a vacation; he had serious business to attend to.
Dana Moger naturally knew what he was thinking. "Are you sure you can directly recruit a Navy SEAL?"
"Maybe. It depends on luck." The time agreed with Jason Hayes was almost up, and Jack planned to contact him again in a few days.
Leaving Dana Moser's office, Jack went directly to NYPD headquarters. Hannah was currently assisting the FBI's White Collar Crime Division in investigating a financial fraud case. This type of case, not only involves staggeringly high sums of money, but also occurs daily in New York City, a financial metropolis.
It's a regular occurrence in the FBI's New York office, even exceeding the number of regular criminal cases. However, Jack wasn't interested in it. It was both time-consuming and exhausting, and crucially, it often involved no guns.
Arriving outside Frank Regan's office, Jack was surprised to see Irene Regan waiting there as well. He had a rough idea of why the Director was looking for him.
Sure enough, Frank's blond secretary soon emerged with a well-dressed prosecutor. After seeing him off, she gestured for them to wait and hurried back to the office door.
"Who's next?" Frank's voice echoed from within the office.
"A certain Manhattan District Attorney and Agent Tavola from the FBI. Which one would you like to see first, sir?" Secretary Baker smiled.
Frank breathed a sigh of relief. "You two, come together. I invited Jack."
They entered the office together. Jack politely invited Irene to take a seat first, then took the sofa next to her. Secretary Baker immediately brought coffee.
"Two sugars without milk, right, Agent Taverner?"
"Thank you. Just call me Jack, beautiful Miss Baker." Jack raised an eyebrow and met Irene's gossipy gaze.
He and Frank's secretary weren't particularly familiar with each other, but the Director was a busy man, and whenever he came to see him, he often had to wait outside the office for a long time. So, they'd chatted several times.
Frank, as if oblivious, looked at his daughter Irene with a businesslike air. "Prosecutor, what's going on with the Manhattan District Attorney?"
"We've submitted new evidence against the four inmates who filed for retrial. They will remain in custody without bail." Irene placed the thinner of the two folders on the desk in front of him.
Frank's drooping eyelids twitched. He said everything was fine, but his gaze was serious as he looked at the thick document in her hand. "So what's the bad news?"