CHICAGO; 1987

The past of this detective is told here.

He knew he shouldn't have taken the call.

"34th St. Armed robbery. Possible injury. Call made approximately 10 minutes ago, any unit respond."

"This is car 19, responding. I'll call for backup and EMS when I get there."

"Alright, car 19. Good luck out there."

It was that simple. He thought it wouldn't be as bad as it was.

He flipped the switch for the lights and turned on his sirens. The wail began and he turned his new 1987 Audi 5000 out of the barren parking lot and down the street, watching for the next turn to 34th street.

He arrived quicker than he thought he would.

This was no normal robbery. This was his own goddamned home. Samuel Mahoney's home. He ran inside, his gun pulled.

It was too late.  He ran inside to see his wife and little girl surrounded by a large pool of blood. The disgusting stench of death was still in the air. He checked the pulse on both of them. Nothing. The sick m**********r had shot them both in the head.

"No... No... No!" He shouted frantically. He ran to his car and exclaimed over the radio, "Get the goddamned EMS and whoever the f**k else you can over here! Now!!" He slumped back in his driver seat, wiping the fresh blood, the blood of those he loved so much, on his pants. He looked up at the ceiling of his car and closed his eyes.

"Why...?"

He already heard the faint wail of sirens coming closer. It didn't matter.

His life had been drained right under his f*****g nose.