Federal Investigation

[Tusk]

The room was dark and the only light that was shining was the blue lights of an alarm clock showing that it was 2:30 a.m. Silence filled the room until a ring tone went off. It was the music from an old but good band from back in the thrities. A hand clumsily grabs the phone and opens it to talk.
" Jones speaking "
a rough voice spoke out in the darkness.
" Detective Verian, this is police chief Johnson. We need you on a case. 337 at the Highland apartment complex. Come as soon as you can. "
The deep voice of a tired man spoke through the earpiece.
" Yes sir. I will be there soon. "
Verian spoke as he hung up the phone. He slowly got up and put his head in his hands. The soft voice of a woman next to him spoke up.
" Do not tell me they need you now. "
She said tiredly as Verian slowly got up to get dressed.
" Sorry honey but it sounded bad. "
He said as he quickly as he fastened his belt and put on a shirt.
" Look, just be sure to get back before dinner. My parents are coming over to see the ultrasound pictures. "
She said as Verian leaned over to kiss her.
" Sure thing Samantha. I will be home when I can. "
With that, he put on his coat and walked outside.

It was a cold night. He could see his breath infront of him as he walked into the car and started it. He pulled out of his driveway and headed to the Highland Apartments. The city was a diffrent animal at night. People were still out partying a week before halloween while they walked through the French Quarter. Verian made sure he was around that area as little as possible. Late night Drunks were not people he wanted to deal with. Soon he came across a more run down part of the city. The houses looked as if they could fall apart. This side of New Orleans was something Tourists never saw. This part of the city was something many in the N.O.P.D saw too often. He soon pulled into the Highland apartments. He saw many people circling one area. 337 meant it was a homocide. Them calling up Verian meant drugs were involved. However he knew many detectives were there or on there way. The mayor had been up Johnson's ass about the crime rate shooting up recently and cases needed to be solved. Verian flashed his badge to a cop who let him through the crowd and past the yellow tape.

Crime- Homocide
Victim- Black male in his late twenties. Several gun shot wounds to the chest.
Crime Scene- The crime scene is filled with blood and gun shells. Crumbs are next to the victims face and the victim is showing various signs of dicoloration. There were five witnesses to the crime.

(( You basically have free reign as to what to do here. Search, gather, question, or whatever you think will help you solve this case. I Have the clues and NPC's set. Have fun. ))

[Eva]

It was too damn early for this tripe. Or too late. Brit wasn't sure.

She sighed and rubbed her temples, trying to pay attention to the stupid little details that she was being fed by one of the witnesses, AKA some guy who stopped by after the crime happened but before the police arrived. He didn't know anything she hadn't already been told, and from the looks of it, probably wasn't going to be of any kind of use. "Thank you, sir, you've been very helpful." Brit said, closing her notepad. The man nodded, jitterish, and Brit walked away from him. She could feel(and, with peripheral vision, see) his eyes following her behind, but she didn't have the energy to call him out.

Brit returned to the body and sighed. She placed her hands on her hips and tried to will herself to find some kind of pattern in this. But it was a fairly strait forward shooting, as far as she could tell. Her profiling wouldn't be needed until suspects were turned in. Just as she was ready to write 'I don't know' on her notepad, she saw someone approaching.

"Jones. This is your kind of thing." she said to the man, walking up to him. Brit veered Jones to the body and stood next to him, hands on hips again. "Well? What does this 'say' to you? Because I'm drawing a blank." she demanded. "I'll I've got so far is 'drug murder' and that's just too boring for the amount of bullets pumped into him."

[Weremouse]

Alaska stepped out of a cop car. Her sneakers hit the pavement as she smelled the coppery scent of blood. Just through her nose, she could tell it was a shooting. Or maybe that was her eyes. She could see it pretty clearly too.

Shrugging her shoulders, she walked toward the body, slowly muttering, asking it questions. The victim was obviously a witness, a better one than all the onlookers.

"Why did they kill you? Who was it? Tsk, tsk, what did you do to deserve this?"

She kept with her muttering while she took blood samples from everywhere - there was always a chance the criminal had bled a little. From one look at the muscular victim, she realized he probably didn't go without a fight.

"Yes, did you hurt him? Did you make him bleed? Pull out some hairs? Tsk, tsk...you shouldn't be so feisty, but at least you might have given us a lead."

She realized that her assistant had arrived and was helping to take samples.

"Tell the paramedics to pick up..." she trailed off, distracted by the amount of blood and wondering if her new patient would wake up on the autopsy table. Despite his cause of death being pretty obvious, there was always a chance he had a heart attack before being shot full of bullets or something.

Her assistant was staring at her blankly.

"GET HIM HOME!" she shrieked, annoyed that he hadn't figured out what she wanted.

She had enough samples, now she just had to wait for someone to chalk around him and the paramedics to drag him onto a stretcher. Her part would come in hours from now. She could just picture him, lying dead on a stretcher, making pleasant conversation with her...she shuddered as she saw herself cutting him open.

Snapping her fingers and shuffling from one foot to the other, she waited.

[Vale]

Calvin had just made it onto the scene, and much to his dismay, Alaska had already tampered with the scene collecting 'evidence' for her autopsy later on this morning.

"I find it funny they even let a mortician onto a crime scene." Calvin spoke as he crossed the yellow tape and stood above the gunned down male. "But I guess that can't be helped." He sighed as he crouched over him, pulling on latex gloves before even touching the guy. Can't risk any more contamination.

"Multiple shots, casings under the body....no?" Calvin actually began to work understanding how the body came to be in this position, why the crumbs...crumbs? Had he been eating...were they old and he just a dirty slob?

Gazing around the body he looked up to see Jones and Tamerlane already on sight. Kind of strange to see consultants on a crime scene. They were dirty, always at risk for contaminating, never considerate of other peoples work space.

"Hepburn." Calvin spoke, rising to his feet as he noticed her standing with her thumbs out taking up space. "Asides the obvious, anything removed from here already?"

[Tusk]

Jones looked around. Typical drug shooting? It seemed that way. He looked around more and took in the scene. The apartment complex was rather large. There was a dumpster off in the distance and surrounded by an open fence. There were at least a dozen or so windows facing the murder. The road was hidden by a fence and There were many cars off in the parking spots.
" It does seem that way, "
Verian spoke calmly.
" However People just do not shoot one another over drugs. There has to be a reason to it. It usually means a deal has gone bad, but there is something off about this. "
He said as he walked closer to the body. A police man walked to Brit slowly and he spoke.
" We have five people who say they witnessed the murder. We need you to talk to them and find out what you can. "

Verian took notice to the man's mouth and the crumbs. The crumbs did not look like any sort of food at all. He knew Calvin would jump if he got too close. He worked with him before. Calvin called Verian dirty and contaminating the scene on many occasions. Verian however did his best to avoid the body and get a better look at the crumbs. What was that? They held a faint yellow look to it. Verian put on some gloves and picked a peice up. He studied it throughly. It was a drug, but as to what it was, Verian was stumped. He had not seen anything with a color like that.

The man had a wallet with no money in it and a driver's licence. His name was Troy Jackson. He carried with him a small pistol, wrappings with the same faint yellow glow, a knife, a watch, a paper with a scribble of Highland apartments 2 a.m. on it, and a cell phone.

The witnesses were a woman named Letanya Brown, 36. Jason Delmers 27. James Royal 42, Stephine Conors 18, and Fred Burns 52.

[Vale]

Calvin kept eying the area around them. Interrogating witnesses wasn't he job, he hated the people aspect of his job. Evidence, Ballistics, Forensics, cold hard facts that's what he liked.

Taking forceps, he collected the crumbs around the man's mouth, labeled and bagged them in a quick sitting, then continued to eye the man's identifiers.

"Troy Jackson, seems you were sent here to die, assuming that that card wasn't planted." Calvin was thinking to himself as he quickly glanced to Jones as well. "Drugs you're guessing?" He spoke to Verian as he finally stood up.

"I want a report from you Alaska, when the autopsy is completed. Just the information about the bullet wounds, if they were inflicted postmortem or not. Also check his hands to see if there were any residue on his hands. If he had been shot this many times, I sure as hell would like to think he fought back if he could." Calvin turned on his heel and went toward the yellow tape.

"And somebody chalk him up."

[TragicAce]

“Barkley baby, please tell me this is just a prank call.”

It was God-awfully early when Ken Arishima’s cell phone decided to ruin the beginning of what could have been a good night’s sleep. Those nights come rarer then you’d think. Contrary to popular belief Ken has a lot of stuff on his mind these days, shame it only pops up when the midnight oil is burning. The phone call was from his newly assigned partner and taskmaster, a one Amanda Barkley. She was scary-good at making his days suck.

And of course it wasn’t a prank. Little Miss Hardass never joked—Ken made sure to double his efforts to compensate. She would be by his apartment in under five minutes and would break down his door in six if he wasn’t ready (still haven’t gotten the damn thing fixed). That woman walked, drove, hell she even ate faster than Ken was comfortable with. The last thing he needed right now was to be getting gray hairs. Amanda had filled him in on the basic details. A drug shooting. Whoopee. “Come on badguys can’t we try to be a bit more original here? Or at least pick a more reasonable hour of the day. Like half past noon.”

Well actually that wouldn’t work much better either—the last thing you want is to have to apprehend a gunman with half your lunch still in your mouth. Happens more then you’d think. Anywho Ken had finished getting into a semi-clean suit of clothes before a hard ‘Knock Knock Knock’ came from his front door. It would seem coffee a luxury he hadn’t the time for. Pocketing a pair of pistols-because one is never enough-the cop made his way outside.

Ken sat in the passenger seat with an uncovered sigh. This wasn’t where he wanted to be. He found himself snapping in and out of consciousness a few times before the vehicle came to a stop. It was too much to hope they were at a Dunkin’ Doughnuts. Nope, ‘Dancing Boy’ Haldwell’s ugly mutt was here, and wait—they even brought in Dollface? Brit Tamerlane wasn’t the kind of woman you can put a leash over, but here she was with her Virginia Slims. And-

"GET HIM HOME!"

If the owner of that yell wasn’t so damn good looking, Ken wouldn’t have held himself back from mouthing off in his typical fashion. Arishima didn’t know who that woman was, but he would. He would. Then the raven-haired kid had to show up and ruin everything. To be fair Verian Jones wasn’t a kid (the guy was like only two years younger then him) but he had something Ken didn’t. A wife. Younger fellow with a wife only reminded him of what he was lacking, and that never sat well with Ken. Call it jealousy.

“Yep. He was shot. Died, too. Odd I know, but it happens.”

[Eva]

Brit sighed. Several detectives were now at the scene, and not a one had went off to the witnesses. "I guess I'll-" Brit stopped when she saw the yellow item in Verian's hands. "Let me see that." she said, putting on a pair of latex gloves. She took the sample and examined it. Well. Brit hadn't noticed this when she'd done her first examination of the scene.

Bit clicked her tongue and turned to Jones. "That's Yellowcake, Jones." she said simply. "Not the uranium, mind you. Just named after it." Brit looked at him. "Odds are you've probably never even heard of it. I know you're the 'drug guy' but I'm the 'east coast guy', and this stuff was all over Manhattan two years ago. Gives one a very powerful high, but it's also horribly addictive, and anything above the most controlled dosage will kill you. And not gracefully." Brit cast one look at the drug and smirked. "By the time our narcs found out who was dealing it, no one was dealing it any more. It died out. So why would it be here, of all places? It's too potent for anyone who can't do the measurements exactly." Brit gave Verian a concerned look. "What do you think, Jones?"

[Gafe]

Facing three strangers with guns pointed at him, Anthony Blake did the only reasonable thing his mind could come up with: he took one of his own, shot one, rolled to the left, shot another, hid behind a crate and used it as cover until the third was also on the floor with a bullethole in his chest. While most people shouldn't mess with the crime scene that the alleyway had just become, he took the liberty to sling the three dead men over his right shoulder and ran in direction of the police department. Being the extremely muscular man he was, it was a simple task.
While on his jog, he crossed paths with many a beauteous woman. All of them, unfazed by the corpses hunched over his shoulder - excited even - gave the detective their respective numbers without any hesitation. Without Anthony having to ask for them. Those were his natural charms.

After settling everything with the police department, he was given the reward for solving the crime those three shady characters had begun. A nice cop, who was also fat, gave him a check for $572 grand. Not too bad, but not the best either. . .
Happy with the day's work, Anthony Blake went to have breakfast. Then called some of the women preciously mentioned. He took one to lunch. And took another to dinner. And the last one to bed.
All in a day's-

Then Anthony Blair's phone started ringing, wakinging him up hastily.
For a couple of minutes, he sat there in his bed, blinking away sleep and yawning to maintain the illusion of the dream a moment longer. Like any of those could happen in a single day. . . extremely muscular my holy water. Pfft.


Little under half an hour later, the detective stood by the yellow tape, observing the crime scene from afar. Camera in hand though, he was ready to sprint over and gather clues. This one cop guy was briefing him on the overalls, but he wasn't so interested. After all, those briefings could usually be replaced with accurate photographs and an interpretative mind. No need to know anything more than the name of this "Troy Jackson" and the names of the witnesses. Anthony could, alone, walk up to the crime scene and notice the mutliple bullet wounds.
"Yeah, yeah, Slucho, that's real nice." He informed the cop, shutting him up. He walked over to the body, to find dismay around it. Several detectives were already gathered there. How very mortifying. Competition. He wasn't a fan of it, sure the crime rate had shot up some alarming percent, but that meant the pay wouldn't be as juicy as it usually tended to be.
This annoyed him.
And the presence of Calvin Haldwell, daddy's-boy, much more so.

Regardless, he waled up to the body, making sure to take several snapshots with his faithful camera. He also noticed a crumb Calvin had not taken and labeled. Anthony put it in a bag of his own. The next couple of minutes were all about photoshooting for him. He took several of the body, some of the bullet wounds, of the different bodyparts that presented dicoloration, of the victim's belongings, of each witness and some of the different detectives.
Next he - well, he wasn't exactly sure of what he should do next. Possibly abuse the nice congregation of detectives for his benefit in the case. But who to start with? A mortician was already mighty close to him and the body, and a couple of paces away were a woman and a man who looked like he'd never ever smiled. Psh, he needed to get out there and meet the competition, he barely knew any of the people present.
Gah, it was early and he didn't feel like talking to others of his trade.
Anthony sighed, that only left him with one option for now: talk to the witnesses. From a pocket in his coat, he fished out a notepad and a pen. With bored steps, he walked towards this Letanya Brown character.
"Good morning, ma'am, my name is Detective Anthony Blake and I've been assigned to this case." His typical introduction went.
"Now, ma'am, would you be as kind as to tell me what you saw with regard for detail?"

[Vale]

Blake here as well? You've got to be fucking kidding me. With everyone shoving their noses in place, it would no doubt be contaminated. At least that screw off Blake knew protocol. He knew how to be clean and at least keep things in order.

"I guess he did have some form of manners, if one could call them that." Calvin thought to himself as he flipped his hair back. "Det. Hepburn." He called out to Alaska after he finished the chalk outline of the body and was wrapping up his first preliminary signs of investigation.

"I've a feeling this wasn't just a standard shooting. Almost to the point in which it could have been staged. No one in this part of town brings a calling card to a scene, and no one does that amount of drugs and still stands to be shot that many times." Calvin hypothesized. "I'd really like to read your report when you conduct it on the body, something doesn't sit right with this." Calvin sighed, showing the slightest sign of actual compassion for the vic.

Turning his head he noticed Blake, another Forensics and Evidence Detective asking a Witness their tale---following suit, he'd be damned if Calvin Haldwell ever got shown up by that jackass.


Walking a bit out to an Elderly man, possibly late 40's early 50's, he began his briefing.
"Ah, Hello Mr. Brown. Not quite the morning one'd want to wake up to. Is there anything you can tell me about what you saw this morning? Please, anything you have could be of great importance and help."

[Tusk]

" It isn't yellow cake. "
Verian said calmly as he took a look at the crumb.
" Yellow cake does not give off an odor. It is usually smuggled in from the Ukraine so they make it odorless to get passed customs and security. This is a home grown substance. It has a faint odor to it. plus it is almost as hard as a rock. whatever it is, I have not seen or heard of it. "
This was diffrent. It was not just a simple drug shooting.
" I need to know the compounds of this. I will talk to Calvin when I get a chance. "

Letanya looked at the man with the camera. Her eyes were red from crying.
" I was outside going to my apartment from by boyfriend's place. I got out of my car and then I heard someone shouting to Troy. He said something about Troy stealing from the wrong people and said he was delivering some message. He said Dal-Dal something Ombre Viene Morte or something like that. Then he took out a pistol and shot Troy several times. I hid by my car and tried everything not to make a noise. He wore a black tee shirt and wore a green bandana and wore green baggy pants. He looked like one of them gang members from the East 8 gang. I hid and heard a sound like something was hitting the dumpster and I did not move til he was gone. Troy was a good man. He helped me out more than once. "
She broke down crying.

Fred Looked to the young man asking him about what he saw. He suddenly looked angry.
" I have lived in this area for over 50 damn years and seen too many good people die over something stupid. I was sitting on my balcony smoking a cigar and a saw Good ol' Troy walking to the middle of the parking lot for the apartments. He was waiting for someone it seemed. Then I saw a no good Gang Banger from that damn East 8 Gang, those damn green wearing hoodlims, and shouted to Troy then shot him. He ran off to toss something in the dumpster and ran off. I ran to call the cops and they took their sweet time getting here i can tell ya. "

[Aubs]

Rashaun "Shaunee" Jenkins had been on her way home from filing paperwork down at the precinct when she'd received a call letting her know that she had to turn around and report to a crimescene. She had been a tad bit irked, well.. highly pissed that she had to get back on the highway when she was so close to pulling into her driveway. She was at the point of saying hell naw to the situation and turning around although she didn't. After such a long day of working, she was ready to call it a night but that definetly wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"Would have been nice to shut my damn eyes for a few minutes... A bitch needs her beauty sleep.."
Apparently there had been a murder at the Highland apartment complex, which at the time of the night/morning was pretty normal. Being a life long resident of New Orleans, especially coming from the underdeveloped area in the city, Shaunee was all too familar with the Highland apartments. She'd not only known people who resided there, but she'd worked one case too many with criminals from there. It was such a shame on how many murders, burglaries, and other crimes that had gone down there in just the year 2058 alone. Shaunee certainly felt for the families who occupied the dangerous complex, but for the ignorant criminals she had no remorse.

Finally arriving on the scene, Shaunee stepped out of her car and proceeded to check the scene out some. Apparently every detective and officer from downtown had been called by the looks of it. With so many people around, Shaunee was more than positive there would be friction between a lot of the detectives. Specifically Haldwell. Now that was a very diffcult man, even more so than any other person Shaunee has worked with before. She had to avoid him now for the time being, but she was more than aware they'd have to talk eventually.

She directed her time to questioning a few witnesses. She noticed someone talking to Detective Blake. An acquaintence. Yeah, that was definetly Letanya he was talking to. She slowly walked and then placed her hand on Anthony's shoulder acknowledging him without speaking.

[Eva]

Sighing with defeat, Brit folded and decided to interview a witness. She stole a moment to check her appearance. All was fine. She checked her pad and crossed out the witnesses who were already being interviewed, and was left with two. She picked one at random.

"Jason Delmers." Brit said, smiling at the young man. "Brit Tamerlane. Pleased to meet you." Brit gave him a pat on his arm. "Not the best circumstances, I know, but we'll make do." According to the information she'd been given, he was only two years younger than her, but she felt much older anyway. Brit put on her most charming 'tell me everything' smile and opened her notepad. "So, Mr. Delmers- or Jason, whichever you prefer- could you tell me what you saw today?" she asked.

[Gafe]

Anthony's face burned with what resembled blazing enthusiasm and attention as he listened to Letanya, the witness. She certainly was saying a lot to him. However on the other hand - and in an angle that assured this witness was not noticing - Blake's handwriting spoke of something entirely different. The manner with which he held his pen was sloppy, and the letters were coming out in the most disorderly fashion. His Os looked like periods, whereas letters like Ys and Gs occupied a good three lines of the notepad's page. This is not to say that Detective Blake's calligraphy was to a page what an onion is to an eye, he could write neatly if he so desired. Unfortunately, it was God knew what hour in the morning, he was tired, and Letanya wasn't a looker: Anthony was just not having fun. His face was a good liar at night.

While he scribbled down phrases like 'Dal-Dal something Ombre Viene Morte', 'East 8 Gang' and 'Culprit: black tee shirt with green bandana and green baggy pants' he felt the lightest touch in his shoulder. Anthony had a few guesses, but sided with certainty and allowed himself a furtive glance to his side. And boy, was he glad he did, Shaunee Jenkins was right beside him. Smiling to his insides, the detective continued the transaction of word to paper with his face showing an additional bit of enthusiasm.

He politely thanked Letanya for her words (and took a picture of her too) before turning to his right and looking at Detective Jenkins. "Well, good morning to you, Lady Jenkins," he said with a fair share of body language to express admiration. "Wasn't sure they'd called you into this too, I suppose I'm a lucky guy." He let out a chuckle or two. And then a cough, the 'this was funny, but on to the real deal' sort of cough. "Walk with me, if you'd do me the favor." He signaled to the left and started what he called 'walk n' talk' as they approached an open gate.

"Not sure if you've seen the guy, Jenkins, but he looks more like a powdered colander, what with all those bullet wounds and drugs around him." Anthony took the crumb he had collected and handed him to Shaunee, "Check it out."
"As much as I hope it is - paperwork for it is easier you see - this does not follow a pattern of a sole crime, but of something more extense. What? I wish I knew, so I could just get the job done and get paid.
"But no, there's this highly risky apartment complex that attracts criminals like ants to a dead beetle, the East 8 Gangreengang whatever -" they had reached the open gate by now" -thugs, this yellow drug none recognize. . . and now this:" He spoke as he opened the dumpster that stood by the open gate.
From a start, Letanya had told him she'd heard something hitting the dumpster, but Blake was not all that sure there was going to be something inside it. His smooth flow of words had ended as such because he wanted to seem a little dramatic for the woman walking with him. Women liked drama. . . right?
Whatever. There would either be something or be nothing in the dumpster.

[Aubs]

The entire time while walking with Anthony, Shaunee had wanted to stuff his mouth to keep him from talking. When he would get started, he would never stop no matter how many other distractions came in his way. Truth was, Detective Anthony Blake was a scatterbrain. He never finished one complete thought without verging off to another. Luckily, his work was good enough to allow him the chance to work every case, despite him being all over the place once it began.

As the two continued to walk around the scene, and Anthony revealed more details about the case, Shaunee nodded her head and "mmhmm'd.." every couple of seconds. Being that it was far too damn early for her, her usual sass meter had been placed on paused until she'd taken the time out to rest. That wouldn't be happening. At least not any time soon. She was pretty sure he appreciated the calmer side of her this morning.

Finally coming to a halt, the pair stopped in front of a dumpster outside the front gate. The witness she'd seen him [Blake] talking to, Letanya, had spoken of overhearing a loud sound hitting the dumpster the night before. There was no way of having known wha exactly was in the dumpster seeing as no one had checked it prior to the two detectives standing in front of it.
Anthony had stopped talking, leaving room for drama, causing Shaunee to get a little antsy.
"Open the damn dumpster, Blake!" she demanded, watching the man open it.

After doing so, a strong odor eroded out, which was rather strange as it hadn't before the lid had been lifted. Before, it'd seemed to be the smell of any other trash. This smell however, was one far too familar. Not even having to look into the dumpster, it was pretty obvious as to what was inside. Confirming her assumption, Shaunee looked inside to find a body slumped over many bags of garbage.
"This definetly ain't trash," Shaunee spoke, backing away from the dumpster. "We need to get the team over here immediately."