In the ensuing years between Tannehill's arrival back in the United States and Spinoza's, the PR machine of the Capital City Police Department had moved into high gear.
The department couldn't admit that one of their most promising employees had been anything more than a one-man display of unquestionable heroics and patriotism in Europe. So, when Tannehill had returned home with mild indications of shell shock, the brass promoted him to detective and assigned him to light desk duty.
The official story was that he was leading the department's efforts on new methods of detection. Behind the scenes, they were concerned about his jittery response to loud noises and his tendency to trail off occasionally during mid-thought.
In truth, Tannehill was happy for the change of pace. He actually *was* researching modern methods of detecting and using his status as a perceived war hero to request funding for lab equipment and a team to operate the equipment. And, as his time away from Europe grew longer, the symptoms of his shell shock grew less pronounced.
His recuperation occurred at a fortuitous time as the city faced a new challenge - prohibition.
At the start, the department, swept up in patriotic fervor, zealously enforced the new constitutional amendment. The drunk tanks overflowed with scofflaws while other offenders on the street paid for their negligence with creative taxes - often in the form of a split lip or a well-placed punch to the gut and a warning to obey the laws of the land.
Eventually, though, the department returned to what it knew best - investing in business propositions that enriched its coffers and those of its champions. The populace's demand for booze was just too great and the black market was just too broad for the government's strict enforcement of the law.
Instead, the department - in conjunction with the noble fathers of the city - decided to employ practical methods of judicial enforcement. They realized that their decision would sacrifice some minor law and order issues on the margins of the city's society. But they did so for the city's long term greater good. They also understood that, in order to execute their strategy successfully, they'd need to receive reasonable stipends on their own behalves, as it's difficult to realize grand political visions while under the constant threat of penury.
From the department's standpoint, the strategy worked. The bosses of the criminal organization kicked back an unofficial municipal tax to various members of the city when asked. When the bosses needed additional provisions from the city they'd pay additional unofficial taxes to expedite their requests. City officials would ensure that the taxes were earmarked for the appropriate municipal projects to enhance the city's standing.
In return, the criminal organizations were permitted to enforce the liquor distribution and territory divisions in a manner they collectively judged to be the most efficient. In order to demonstrate to the federal government that the city was following a targeted, practical strategy of enforcement instead of simply flouting the law and indulging in corruption, the department would occasionally stage showcase raids for the benefit of Washington.
When Spinoza returned from France, he resumed his crime beat in the city. The streets had been marred by bloody violence as turf wars between gangs became increasingly common and brazen. The gangs understood that, as long as they continued to bribe officials, those officials would look the other way in the name of progressive values.
When the department did stage raids, it did so with long advanced notice to the establishments it was raiding. Though the speakeasies weren't permitted divest themselves of their entire inventory prior to the raid - that would make the tip-off seem too conspicuous - they would offload much of it in order to escape the most onerous penalties. Notable members of society would be warned not to attend on those days in order to avoid any discomfort that may be associated with negative press associated with the raids.
Often as a sign of willing participation, proprietors of the establishment would offer a round (or several) on the house to the uniformed officers participating in the raid. This often led to the rather confusing image of having the officers leave the establishment drunker than the patrons they were attempting to roust.
Spinoza quickly grew frustrated with the incompetence and the corruption of the city. He wasn't naive but he'd been encapsulated by a cynical shell since the war. His take wasn't so much "Why hasn't the city taken steps to improve?" but more "Why can't this city get its shit together?"
Everywhere he looked, he found laziness, expediency, and greed. In his eyes, most of the violence was the result of others too self-interested to perform their duties properly, even if it meant people died.
When he contrasted the folly and indolence of the city with the endless ocean of death he saw in Europe, the equation he'd formulated in his head simply didn't add up. Each act of graft he witnessed during the Prohibition Era in Capital City was an insult to each act of suffering experienced in the Great War.
The primary target of his ire was the Capital City Police Department. The institution specifically chartered to protect and serve turned a blind eye as its charges were gunned down. Even more detestably, officers were often intimately complicit in these shocking acts of violence against the innocent.
That ire was further sharpened against Tannehill. Tannehill, who, during the deafening noise of daily violence, remained within the walls of the precinct hiding from the world. Tannehill, who when asked to speak on behalf of the department, would breezily talk about its progressive agenda and defense of its citizenry. Tannehill, who didn't have the decency to accept a proper bribe and at least embrace the evil he so willingly surrounded himself with. Tannehill, who received a goddamn hero's welcome and war honors when all he ever faced was one unfortunate event that challenged his sanity while Spinoza saw worse several times a day for months.
Upon his return to the city, Spinoza vowed to call out every act of corruption he witnessed until the department repented or the city collapsed under the weight of its own shame.
[Author's note - Today's version? 1036 words for a total of 26444 over 24 chapters. I may be delayed again for the next chapter. I've got to outline a few major plot points for the next few installments and I don't want to rush the quality product that I'm delivering to you dear reader.]
