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316 pages, Paperback
First published July 10, 2012
The use of marijuana has been decriminalized, in a so-far-unsuccessful effort to dampen demand for the harder and more societally destabilizing drugs. And the amount of marijuana I found on Victor France’s person was five grams, small enough that it could easily have been for his personal use, except that the way I discovered it was that he tried to sell it to me as I was walking home from the Somerset Diner on a Saturday afternoon. Whether to make an arrest, under those ambiguous circumstances, is at the discretion of the officer, and I have decided in France’s case not to exercise that discretion—conditionally.... The condition being that he be your slave... excuse me, bitch. Sorry! Informant. You bullied a guy selling 5 fucking GRAMS into doing your work for you to avoid a possession charge that was at your discretion to file in the first place. A charge that would carry a 6-month term, which, given the pending apocalypse, would be a life sentence. You're a saint, letting him work off his debt to you for not chucking his hard drug-trafficking ass into jail for the rest of the time anyone has on the planet. Very magnanimous of you. 5 grams. Man... What did he expect?? A warning? Pfft.
I could lock Victor France up for six months on Title VI, and he knows it...
"I recognize that you have made a sacrifice. But this is a murder investigation. It’s important."Almost... But you don't do either, do you? You don't because you only care about your need to finish the job, and more importantly, to be RIGHT... I bet you even patted yourself on the back, after. No thought of the people you've hurt while you ran around half-blind (literally) wielding that flaming sword of self-righteousness called "investigation". You're the "last policeman" - you're the last one doing the job right. Well. Good job. You're doing just wonderful things for your community.
"You have no idea, young man," he says morosely, "You have no idea what’s important."
He hangs up, and I almost call him back. I swear to God, with all that’s going on, I almost get up and go over there. Because he’s not—he’s not going to make it.