The Bronx, often considered New York's industrial hub, hosts a wide range of factories, from garment and footwear to electronics, machinery, chemicals, and even arms manufacturing.
As with many parts of the city, the Bronx features stark contrasts—gleaming startup zones sometimes stand just a street away from aging industrial areas, creating an invisible barrier between wealth and poverty.
By the time two cars from Staten Island arrived at the northernmost part of New York City, the area was already cordoned off with yellow police tape. NYPD officers were swarming the scene, a grim atmosphere settling over the site.
For police departments like the NYPD or LAPD, the shooting of an officer is treated as a top priority. Nearby night-shift patrol officers had all converged on the location.
Jim Aubrey, the team's newest member, had arrived ahead of Jack and Hannah. He was crouched beside a body covered by a white sheet, his expression somber as he inspected the scene.
Jack and Hannah stepped out of their car as Danny, who had parked ahead of them, rushed to question the officers on-site.
Seeing the pair approach, Aubrey lifted the sheet corner, revealing a male Latino officer in his early 30s wearing a motorcycle helmet. His throat had been pierced, severing both his windpipe and carotid artery.
Blood had pooled on the road, forming a trail to a nearby gutter. There lay a police-issued flashlight, its glass shattered and the casing crushed by a car tire, reflecting the crimson tragedy under the streetlights.
The officer had clearly fought to the end. His left hand was clutching his neck wound, while his right held his service pistol. He must have sensed danger too late, drawing his weapon just as he was fatally struck.
"He likely stopped a car for a routine traffic check. His last communication with dispatch mentioned pulling someone over, but it's unclear why he didn't report the license plate," Aubrey said, his tone puzzled.
"It could've been something minor, like a taillight out. Reporting the plate isn't mandatory for minor stops. Did he have a bodycam on?" Jack asked, exchanging a glance with Hannah.
"Yes. NYPD techs just removed it when I got here. They're downloading the footage now."
Danny returned from speaking with other officers, his expression heavy. "His name was Tony Sanchez. Survived two tours in Afghanistan, only to die while writing a traffic ticket."
Jack glanced at the white-knuckled grip on the officer's pistol. Whoever did this wasn't ordinary—dispatching a seasoned veteran in a single shot, even in an ambush, was no small feat.
He sighed. "Any witnesses?"
"One. He's the one who called 911." Danny pointed to a middle-aged Black man standing outside the police tape, flanked by two officers taking his statement.
"Let's talk to him," Jack said, patting Danny on the shoulder. He knew Danny, also a veteran, must feel deeply affected.
The witness, a blue-collar worker in his 40s wearing slightly worn clothes, gestured to a window in a nearby office building.
"I was working the night shift. My desk is right by that window. I heard gunshots, looked out, and saw the officer collapse by the roadside."
"So, you didn't see the actual shooting?" Hannah asked.
"No. I called 911 right away and ran outside. By the time I got there, the car was gone. The officer was still breathing, holding his neck, but…"
The man trailed off, showing his blood-stained hands. Jack nodded slightly, appreciating the man's bravery. Many wouldn't have the courage to rush out to help, even for a police officer.
"Can you describe the car?" Danny asked, glancing again at the covered body, his voice tinged with sorrow.
"It was a black sedan. Looked fancy, with tinted windows, so I couldn't see inside. The paint and model seemed like something from a luxury car rental service. You know what I mean?"
Jack nodded. "Did you catch the license plate? Even part of it would help."
The man hesitated, embarrassed. "Sorry, it was dark, and I was pretty shaken. I only remember the letters 'KFC'—like the chicken place."
After a few more questions and obtaining the witness's contact information, the group let him leave.
Jack turned to Danny. "It doesn't seem premeditated or like an anti-police hate crime. Want to come back to the operations center with us?"
Danny shook his head. "I hope it's not a targeted attack on cops. Recent policy changes stirred up tension between NYPD and minority communities. The chief wanted FBI involvement to keep things from escalating further.
"I'll stay here and pull nearby traffic footage. NYPD's liaison officer is already en route to Federal Plaza. Once the bodycam footage is processed, they'll send it to you immediately."
Federal Plaza, at 26 Federal Plaza in Manhattan, is where the FBI New York Field Office is headquartered. Though the building also houses other federal agencies, the FBI is its most well-known tenant.
At the operations center, the scene was bustling. Jubal had called in about half the analysts and tech staff, leaving the other half to take over the next day.
Everyone was armed with hot coffee, the air charged with focus and determination. A photo of Officer Tony Sanchez, along with pictures from the crime scene, was displayed on the large screen.
Jubal greeted Jack and Hannah with a nod as they entered. "How's the scene?"
Jack exhaled. "The NYPD is understandably furious, but thankfully their chief is keeping a cool head. It doesn't seem like a sniper or ambush targeting police. Has the bodycam footage come through?"
Jubal gestured to an Asian tech analyst. "We just got it. He's cleaning up the footage now, trying to extract a clear image of the suspect."
The bodycam footage showed the first-person perspective of Officer Sanchez approaching a black Lincoln sedan. In the frame, his left hand held a police flashlight, cautiously illuminating the vehicle.
NYPD's bodycams don't record audio for the first 15 seconds after activation, so their initial interaction was silent. Sanchez didn't appear alarmed, seemingly treating it as a routine stop.
When the driver rolled down the tinted window, the audio kicked in. Sanchez's voice was calm but professional, asking the driver for their license and registration. The stop was over a broken taillight.
As Sanchez leaned closer, something unexpected happened.
The driver suddenly lunged forward, producing a firearm from below the window line. The motion was swift and deliberate. A single gunshot echoed in the recording.
Officer Sanchez stumbled backward, clutching his throat as blood spurted out. His bodycam tilted sharply as he fell, showing brief, chaotic glimpses of the car accelerating away.
The suspect's face was momentarily visible through the window, captured by the bodycam before the footage cut off.
Everyone in the operations center fell silent, the weight of the tragedy hanging in the air.
"Pause the footage," Jack instructed, stepping closer to the large screen. "Let's isolate that moment when the suspect's face is visible."
The Asian analyst swiftly scrubbed through the video, freezing the frame where the driver's face was partially illuminated by the flashlight beam. The image was slightly blurry but discernible.
"We'll run this through facial recognition immediately," the analyst said.
"Make sure to check for known associates, especially anyone with a history of violence against law enforcement," Hannah added.
As the system began processing, Jubal stepped forward. "Jack, this wasn't just a random act of violence. That shot was too precise. This suspect knew exactly where to aim to take out Sanchez before he had a chance to react."
Jack nodded grimly. "Agreed. This wasn't a panicked criminal firing blindly. This was a calculated hit."
"The fact that they chose a routine traffic stop for their attack could indicate familiarity with police procedures," Hannah pointed out.
"Or they've done this before," Jack said, his voice cold.
Minutes later, the analyst called out. "Got a hit!"
The suspect's profile appeared on the screen. A name, photo, and rap sheet filled the display.
"Ramon Delgado," Jubal read aloud. "Multiple arrests for armed robbery, aggravated assault, and suspected gang affiliations. Recently released on parole after serving eight years for manslaughter."
"Let me guess," Jack said, scanning the information. "Manslaughter involving a cop?"
"Correct," the analyst confirmed. "The victim was an off-duty officer who tried to intervene during a robbery."
"Looks like Delgado has a vendetta against law enforcement," Hannah said.
"And he's escalated to targeting active-duty officers," Jack added.
As the team pored over Delgado's file, Jubal turned to the group. "We need to move fast. Delgado's already shown he's willing to kill without hesitation. If he's in the wind, more officers—and civilians—could be in danger."
Jack nodded. "Let's coordinate with NYPD. They'll want in on this, and they'll know the best places to start looking for him."
The hunt for Ramon Delgado had officially begun.
(End of Chapter)
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