05-23-2015, 07:30 PM
In Drayson's line of work, there was no shortage of paperwork. Requests for his personal seal of approval on an emergency acquisition or expense request. Warrants for arrests, searches, surveillance. Updates on cases of interest he was tracking; internal investigations, politicians or the social elite, serial killers, domestic terrorists. And of course the investigations of task force Domovoi. The serial rapist, and the more recent case, which had involved the task force's own ace-in-the-hole, Officer Sarkozy in the Izmailovsky Market. That had caused quite the uproar.
Among all the things that required his attention, there were two Voluntary Release memos that had somehow made it all the way to his desk. Two officers, both with years of experience and few, if any, black marks on their records, had put in the memos within days of each other. They were a few months old already, and had likely been purposefully bogged down in the system in an attempt by their leadership to keep the officers on the force. It was a detestable passive-aggressive way of making such requests disappear, hoping the member would either have a change of heart, or just loose hope and accept that they weren't getting out.
The curious thing of the two memos was the reasons for the members wanting to release from the CDPS. They were from different precincts, and by all indications did not directly know each other. Their requests were days apart, but both sited the same reason. Both members sought to move to Africa. Morocco, to be exact. To join that security company that had been so boldly emblazoned on the headlines in the opening days of that violent rebellion in DV months ago.
He was aware of their ongoing involvement in Sierra Leone, and of their CEO's public address that had followed the start of the civil war there. In the end, he could find no reason to deny the two officers' requests, and gave them his approval before forwarding them back to their respective chains of command.
As for the attack at the market...a talk with Officer Sarkozy was in order. Domovoi was slow to gain traction on the investigation, despite how public a scene it had been. Even that old market had security cameras, and there had been plenty of witnesses. Domovoi had no shortage of resources at their disposal, and should have been able to at least identify the culprit by now.
He sipped at a mug of terrible office coffee, then set it carefully aside to keep it clear of his terminal, and sat back. He had been forced to leave Victoria on rather short notice in light of that incident, rushing to the scene to oversee the deployment of Domovoi and how well it worked. He hadn't been disappointed at the time, but thus far there had seemed to be a lack of progress in the case.
There was also the matter of the recent release of Artair Nevin, the head bodyguard of Privilege Alkaev's son, Rurik. Drayson had personally arrested the man when the fellow had been foolish enough to draw a weapon on him on Rurik's orders. The man's trial hadn't even begun yet, but he had been released on some drummed up technicality. Perhaps it was time he gave the Alkaev's another reminder of why they were supposed to be more careful about their rampant corruption. It was to be expected, and generally ignored, by law enforcement, and even he was willing to turn a blind eye. But they kept being sloppy about it.
Among all the things that required his attention, there were two Voluntary Release memos that had somehow made it all the way to his desk. Two officers, both with years of experience and few, if any, black marks on their records, had put in the memos within days of each other. They were a few months old already, and had likely been purposefully bogged down in the system in an attempt by their leadership to keep the officers on the force. It was a detestable passive-aggressive way of making such requests disappear, hoping the member would either have a change of heart, or just loose hope and accept that they weren't getting out.
The curious thing of the two memos was the reasons for the members wanting to release from the CDPS. They were from different precincts, and by all indications did not directly know each other. Their requests were days apart, but both sited the same reason. Both members sought to move to Africa. Morocco, to be exact. To join that security company that had been so boldly emblazoned on the headlines in the opening days of that violent rebellion in DV months ago.
He was aware of their ongoing involvement in Sierra Leone, and of their CEO's public address that had followed the start of the civil war there. In the end, he could find no reason to deny the two officers' requests, and gave them his approval before forwarding them back to their respective chains of command.
As for the attack at the market...a talk with Officer Sarkozy was in order. Domovoi was slow to gain traction on the investigation, despite how public a scene it had been. Even that old market had security cameras, and there had been plenty of witnesses. Domovoi had no shortage of resources at their disposal, and should have been able to at least identify the culprit by now.
He sipped at a mug of terrible office coffee, then set it carefully aside to keep it clear of his terminal, and sat back. He had been forced to leave Victoria on rather short notice in light of that incident, rushing to the scene to oversee the deployment of Domovoi and how well it worked. He hadn't been disappointed at the time, but thus far there had seemed to be a lack of progress in the case.
There was also the matter of the recent release of Artair Nevin, the head bodyguard of Privilege Alkaev's son, Rurik. Drayson had personally arrested the man when the fellow had been foolish enough to draw a weapon on him on Rurik's orders. The man's trial hadn't even begun yet, but he had been released on some drummed up technicality. Perhaps it was time he gave the Alkaev's another reminder of why they were supposed to be more careful about their rampant corruption. It was to be expected, and generally ignored, by law enforcement, and even he was willing to turn a blind eye. But they kept being sloppy about it.