Copper Script

by K.J. Charles

Detective Sergeant Aaron Fowler massaged the base of his skull. It didn’t relieve the pain in his neck, because that was sitting opposite him in an expensive suit.

He hadn’t served in a war for people to go around not offering other people tea.

Joel could be a fool for a man like that. If that man wasn’t a rozzer. Which this one was. So fuck him, and not in the good way.

it didn’t do to flinch from painful truths, and if you decided that anyone who accused the police was lying, you had stepped onto a path that led to some very dark places.

Policing is a contract. The public agrees to give people like me the power to ask impertinent questions, give orders, or even deprive people of their liberty, under a strict set of laws and circumstances and restrictions that govern our behaviour. If we don’t respect our part of the contract, the public can’t be expected to respect theirs.

“Supporting our wounded heroes is one of many things that people feel passionately must be done, by somebody else.”

this is in the top three of things I have ever put in my mouth. Mph.” Aaron wanted, urgently, to ask about the other two.