Dead Again
Tchaikovsky was playing in the room when we entered. I don’t remember which of his compositions it was, but it sounded vaguely familiar. The room itself didn’t scream “classical music fan”, but the record collection near the sink said otherwise. His name was Maxwell Steinberg and someone had killed him, again. December 1992 As a young cop, who had just joined the force, and whose only source of knowledge about cops were the movies he had seen, I was as green as they come. First week in, I learnt that real cops do not work like the ones in the movies. There were no “errant cops” who break all laws to uphold the justice system nor were there fast paced, flying car chases through narrow lanes of the city. Car chases usually happened on the fast lanes or freeways and almost always ended with the miscreant getting caught. But one day everything changed for me & to a large extent for our entire precinct. I was in the precinct that day when the call came through.