Los Angeles Legendary Sleuth

Roger's Supermarket.

Large patches of blood still remained at the supermarket entrance, with police tape already cordoning off the area. People—police officers, journalists, victims' families, and onlookers—crowded the street, making it impassable.

Upon learning about the shooting incident, Chief Frank rushed to the supermarket immediately, surveyed the interior, and to avoid contaminating the scene, he brought only a few people inside.

He was there not to investigate but to calm the hearts of the citizens of Los Angeles.

Frank circled the supermarket, his thick eyebrows knitted together, his stern face taking on an even heavier look.

As he stepped out, the onlooking crowd stirred.

A female reporter shouted, "Chief Frank, I'm a reporter from NBC News. Have the police caught the perpetrator yet?"

Another Black male reporter asked, "Chief Frank, how many people have fallen victim to this shooting?"

"Chief Frank, the citizens of Los Angeles are very fearful right now. Could you say a few words?"

Frank stopped and spoke gravely, "I regret this incident deeply. No one wants such things to happen.

I will deploy our best officers to investigate this case and capture the shooter as swiftly as possible.

Let Los Angeles return to peace, providing an explanation to the victims and their families.

Regardless of who the shooter is, if they dare to kill in Los Angeles, they will face the punishment of the law."

The Black male reporter asked again, "Chief Frank, there are rumors suggesting this is a massacre targeting Black people. What is your view?"

"The case has just occurred, and we haven't had time to investigate thoroughly. However, the victims are indeed predominantly African American.

What I want to say is, whether Black or White, each is God's child and should not endure such treatment.

So, I ask the citizens of Los Angeles to pray for them, to give strength to their family and friends submerged in sorrow." As Frank finished, scattered applause broke out around him.

By this time, the first squad had arrived at the scene.

Jack sidled up to Luke, whispering, "He spoke really well. I could never articulate like that."

Jackson laughed, "That's why you're not the chief."

Jack responded coolly, "Rookie."

Luke ignored their banter, scanning the surroundings. The current crowd was much larger than those inside the supermarket. If the suspect were to return, it would truly be a massacre.

He felt the chief's address should end now as it wasn't the right moment to present a friendly image to the public.

Frank seemed to realize this as well, wrapping up his speech and preparing to leave.

At that moment, a Black woman rushed forward, "Chief Frank, please don't go."

"What's the matter, ma'am?"

The Black woman pushed towards the police line, her face anxious and her speech somewhat disjointed, "I'm a Black mother. I ran out of olive oil while preparing breakfast...

My son went to the supermarket to buy olive oil... he's not back yet.

I... I hope you can find him."

Frank paused, looking at this worried and panicked woman, offering comfort, "Ma'am, what is your son's name?"

"Antoine Powell."

"What is your name?"

"Sasha Powell. I'm a single mother; I can't do without Antoine... sob…" The Black woman began to cry softly.

Facing such a situation, any further comfort would be hollow. Frank scanned the vicinity and beckoned Luke from a distance.

Luke approached, "Chief Frank."

"You should've overheard what this lady said. Her son is missing and needs police assistance."

Luke replied, "I'll do my utmost."

Frank then said to the Black woman, "Ma'am, this is the captain of the Robbery and Murder Department, one of the best detectives in Los Angeles.

You can tell him about your son's situation. I trust he can handle it appropriately."

Luke gestured invitingly, "Ma'am, please come with me; we need to talk privately."

Frank addressed the crowd, "Everyone, that concludes today's interview. Thank you."

With that, Frank quickly caught up with Luke, patting him on the shoulder, "Luke, I'm assigning you this shooting case.

If you need support, contact Reid or me. You know my number."

Luke nodded, "I will."

Frank, along with several officers, left the scene.

The deputy watched the situation unfold, admitting to himself a touch of envy.

He too was one of Los Angeles's finest officers, with capabilities and experience; otherwise, he wouldn't have been rehired at his age.

They say as you age you become more open-minded, your temper mellows. Why hadn't he changed?

Sometimes, he wasn't fond of his foul temper either.

Had thought about changing.

Yet at critical moments, he just couldn't hold back, didn't want to.

The deputy sighed helplessly. Forget it, it's just the way it is. Even if he changed now, no one would believe it.

In truth, even he didn't believe it.

The trust Reid and Frank had in Luke was also a kind of pressure for him.

Frank handed this Black woman to him in front of reporters and so many citizens, so Luke had to personally inquire thoroughly.

Luke looked at the Black woman again, asking her name once more, "Ma'am, how should I address you?"

"Sasha Powell."