"So, how did Jasper manage to keep his contact with Duval secret from you?" The officer in a white uniform, wearing a flower and a crest, stared at Ronnick with a stern expression, as if a flower could bloom on his face.
Although he had anticipated this scene, being interrogated as a suspect by the Internal Affairs Department was still too much for Ronnick, and he angrily slammed the table.
"You should ask Jasper or Duval this question. How the hell should I know how they communicated secretly? The police station is so big, and everyone has several windows to watch, not to mention that Jasper is holding the only police radio in the entire police station!"
"But Jasper is dead, and so is Duval. The remaining few people in the entire "Anti-Black Group", except for a few police officers who were completely unaware of this and did not participate, the rest of them are now lying in the ICU.
We also want to get to the bottom of the facts. You know, this is the worst casualties in the history of the Detroit Police Department."
The DPD Internal Affairs officer had just finished speaking when he was sprayed back by the angry Ronick, "Of course I know they are all dead. They died in front of me, so why don't you go to damn hell and ask them in person?"
"Anger doesn't help solve any problems." The Internal Affairs officer with a big beer belly, who looked more like a bureaucrat than a policeman, twitched his cheeks and said with a forced smile.
"Okay, next question: Did you have any contact with Marino Bishop during your undercover career?"
Just before Ronik was completely enraged by this malicious question, the conference room door was flung open, and Jack appeared with a group of men in white shirts and black suits.
"Sergeant Seko Dodge of the DPD Internal Affairs Division, you are under arrest." Jack waved his hand, and two FBI agents stepped forward. One displayed handcuffs, while the other placed his hand on the pistol at his waist.
Sergeant Seko Dodge, the Internal Affairs officer who had been questioning Ronik as a suspect, instantly lost color from his chubby cheeks, turning the same white as his uniform, which was only worn by senior police officers.
Jack's gaze swept over the union-appointed lawyer beside Ronik, who had remained silent throughout the entire process, and froze him in his seat.
"I've found you a professional legal advisor who can recommend you some more reliable lawyers."
He stepped aside, and Angela Lopez's husband, Wesley, stepped forward to shake the bewildered Ronik, who still didn't understand what was happening, and enthusiastically introduced himself.
"Based on evidence provided by Marino Bishop, the Department of Justice has authorized the FBI to launch a full-scale investigation into corruption within the Detroit Police Department."
Jack glanced at the dejected Internal Affairs officer being led away. "It's clear that during the restructuring of the police department after Detroit's bankruptcy, a lot of garbage has been infiltrated into your ranks."
"Even if the investigation is complete, I don't recommend you and Alice stay with the DPD."
Hearing this suggestion, Ronik threw his hands helplessly. "Where else can I go? I grew up in this city."
Although Jack had been responsible for most of the deaths, Duval had indeed died at the hands of the sheriff, and a notorious Detroit gang leader was also present.
Although the Detroit Police Department has just issued a vague official statement that defines the entire incident,
in the eyes of some colleagues and even the public who are unaware of the truth, the difference between Duvall, a little-known police chief and the star officer who occasionally appears on TV, is obvious.
Thus, various rumors quickly spread, encouraged by certain individuals with ulterior motives.
After all, being a veteran former undercover officer sounds like an honor, but in some cases, it seems little different from a criminal record.
In stark contrast, neither the official statement nor the gossip mentioned any FBI agents or LAPD officers.
The former may be related to the FBI's preemptive action, taking over the investigation from the Department of Justice, while the latter may be driven by a desire to keep dirty laundry private. Regardless
, it's clear that the DPD, which harbored so much corruption, cannot be cleaned up quickly. The investigation is likely to drag on for years and is expected to ultimately come to nothing.
In Detroit, where street gangs maintain basic social order in much of the city, a top-down cleanup of the already rapidly shrinking police department is virtually impossible.
Jack had no real solution, so he could only offer Ronik some assistance within his capacity. "A friend of mine just started a security company. The salary seems good, and they're urgently looking for experienced people to join."
Ronik took the business card and glanced at it. He was about to decline when Jack interrupted him. "I talked to my friend, and he's very interested in your resume.
If you're willing to work at their Los Angeles headquarters, he can guarantee you an annual salary of at least $200,000, plus a host of benefits, including rent and housing."
The sheriff's pupils suddenly trembled. $200,000 a year might not sound like much, but in a place like Detroit, a chief in the downtown area only makes around $100,000.
This might also be one of the reasons why Duval's officers are almost entirely corrupt. Prices often rise in poorer economic areas, and any ordinary police officer with a family can't survive without some under-the-table income. Furthermore
, the position offered was in Los Angeles. It was like a Hainan company hiring someone in Northeast China with a high salary and free food and housing—the allure was overwhelming.
Shortly after returning from Paris, Brian Mills officially joined the newly established Shangri-La security company.
However, as a veteran CIA agent accustomed to working alone, his management and organizational skills were somewhat lacking. Ronik had, after all, served as a branch chief for the better part of six months, and while he'd been a bit of a slacker, he still had experience.
At least his sense of responsibility was undeniable. Even at the last moment, he persisted in trying to arrest Duval, rather than simply shooting him dead.
Jack spent nearly a week in Detroit, ultimately not finding the time to visit the GM and Ford headquarters downtown.
Because of the attack on the two and John's injury, a large group arrived from Los Angeles, led by Commissioner Gray and including John's wife, Grace, and Angela Lopez and her husband.
Even Zoe Anderson, soon to be a member of Congress, sent her wife (husband?) and staff member, Professor Maureen Cahill, to offer her condolences.
(End of Chapter)