After the curfew, the workload dropped. Nights went quiet; days could be scheduled without running shifts back-to-back with no rest.Protests still happened in daylight, but smaller, softer.With thousands of National Guard guarding offices and infrastructure, more hands freed up for other tasks.
Plenty of protesters had been scared straight by that night—looting, arson, mass brawls with police, officers shot dead one after another in the street.Many were truly angry, but they hadn't expected it to spiral. After cooling off, they stepped back to wait for investigations.Hot blood cooled; the smarter brain took the high ground.
That morning, officers were prepping at the station to roll out.A group walked in.
"Hello, we're with the FBI Los Angeles Field Office. I'm Supervisory Special Agent Ethan Rainer. These are my colleagues. We're assigned by DOJ and FBI LA to investigate the death of 'Lare Moni.' Where's the Sheriff's office?"
No one answered. Every cop stopped and stared. Silence.
Greene came out at the sound and walked up to Rainer. Officers rose and formed up behind Greene. Felix studied the supposed FBI—first time he'd seen them up close. Neat suits, tidy hair, good posture—well trained.
"We don't like you, Agent," Greene said.
The air went hot in a second.
"I'm not here to be liked. Where's the Sheriff's office?" Rainer shot back—no pushover.
Greene opened his mouth, but a voice from behind cut him off."Not like this, Greene. I'll handle it."
Felix turned—Deputy Chief Robin.
Robin offered a hand. "I'm Robin, Deputy Chief of the San Gabriel Station. Sheriff's office is this way. Follow me.""Thank you, Deputy Chief," Rainer said, shaking his hand.
Robin patted Greene's shoulder, parted the line, and led the FBI through.
The room deflated. No one felt like rolling out; they drifted back to chairs and picked at breakfast.
After a while, two FBI agents came out and walked straight to Mark. "Officer Mark Hanneman? Please come to the conference room to assist our investigation."Felix stood. "What do you think you're doing? Why not take me too?"An agent glanced at him. "Officer Felix, right? You were part of the operation as well. You come too."
What, like that?"Fine," Felix said."I'll go," Mark rumbled.
Blessing or curse, you can't dodge it. Felix nodded and moved to go.
"Who said you start questioning without us?" a man's voice called from the door.
Everyone turned. A familiar face: Jose Hernandez, Assistant District Attorney for LA County. He came in with a team, planted himself in front of the two agents."You don't have independent-investigation authorization. You'll proceed with us. Any private questioning without DA personnel present—do what you want, but this office will not recognize your results."
The agent smiled. "Misunderstanding. We're just getting the lay of the land and bringing relevant personnel over. No intent to act alone."
He stepped aside. Hernandez marched through. "Which office?" he asked halfway down the hall.The agent gave a thin grin and led the way.
Felix and Mark followed. Felix tried to say something; both the FBI and DA men shut him down with a look.He pretended not to get it; DA staff physically separated them anyway.
Because Mark had fired, he was taken to the main conference room. Felix was parked in a side room to wait.DA and FBI sat with him and said nothing. Soon, every officer involved in the "Lare Moni" incident was brought to small rooms as well.No talking. No eye contact. If you insisted, it went on the record.Better to shut your eyes and rest.
Time passed—Felix nearly dozed—until a DA staffer nudged him."Your turn, Officer Felix."
He rubbed his eyes and walked into the main room—packed: Mesa, Robin, Hernandez, Ethan Rainer, the San Gabriel Police Union President, the department's counsel, a San Gabriel city councilmember, plus their staff. Wall to wall.
Robin chaired. "Give us a brief self-intro."
Not a job interview, and you've got my file right there. But Robin didn't have it easy today, so Felix played along."Felix. Male. Twenty-three. One-eighty-five centimeters. A hundred sixty pounds. Single. Patrol officer, San Gabriel PD.""That's it?""That's it."Robin smoothed it over. "Nineties kids—what can you do. All right, proceed."
Rainer opened: "I saw your video online—the shotgun against the car charging you. Why shoot instead of getting out of the way?"Counsel said, "Not relevant to today's scope.""Consider it my curiosity.""Officer Felix, you may decline.""Because I wasn't afraid," Felix said."What?" Rainer frowned."Not afraid means not afraid."
Faces blinked. Felix felt the trap."I figured if I tried to dodge, I'd still get hit. I had a shotgun; a few more rounds should solve it. And he killed Damon. I wasn't letting him walk.""So you were avenging him?""I didn't say that. That's your read, not mine."
Rainer nodded. "Do you think Mark shot Lare for revenge?""No."
Hearts unclenched around the table.
"Why not? His supervisor, Sergeant Carles, was his partner for years. They were close. Carles was shot. Wanting payback is natural.""If it were revenge, he'd have emptied the mag. Not just three rounds."
Hard to argue with that. Heads scratched.
"Then why didn't you fire?""I went to the bedroom to take the other two," Felix said, rolling his eyes. "This was an operation, not a gang vendetta. Division of labor.And who knew Lare had a gun within reach? He sat up and it was in his hand like he was born with it.This isn't complicated. Even at a traffic stop, if a driver goes for a gun, we have grounds to shoot first. He got himself killed. He reached."
Rainer smiled. "Last question."Felix spread his hands: go on.
"Interested in joining the FBI?"
Robin cut in. "Poaching in my house?""Just asking. If not here, I can ask elsewhere."
Shameless. Robin swallowed the retort.
Felix asked, "What's the process and requirements?"Rainer perked up. "Resign your deputy position, pass testing, then Quantico for several months. After that, assignment to one of fifty-six field offices.""Nationwide. Do I pick the city?""No. Assignments are confidential.""Then no. I'm staying in L.A. I just bought a place."Rainer hadn't expected the flat no. "You could think it over—"Robin: "That's enough. Felix, you're excused. Bring in the next officer.""Sure." Felix swapped in the next and found himself off the hook.
He thought he'd go back on duty, but Linda told him he was free the rest of the day—today only.
Outside the station he realized he had nowhere to go; Rachel was still at school.He bought some things and went to see Carles—hadn't visited him once since the surgery.
"Hey, Carles. Checking on you. How's the body?"Carles lit up. "You came? The station's gotta be slammed.""Everyone else is. I'm not."
Felix told him about the day's questioning.Carles thought it over. "Sounds like nothing's coming of it—for you or Mark. Otherwise they'd do a full reconstruction, bring teams to re-stage it. Maybe interviews first, then the reenactment."
"Whatever. Let them do their thing," Felix said, then eyed him. "How are you?"
"Pretty good. Wound's healing. Silver lining—lost a piece of intestine, so absorption's down. I'll never get fat again. How's that?"He laughed. Felix didn't. Carles sighed. "Ruptured gut, then abdominal infection—peritonitis, diaphragmatic involvement. Fixed now, but the damage is real. The doctor says no more high-intensity work.My wife doesn't want me back in uniform. Says I should drive a school bus and ferry kids."
Felix had nothing. When Rick said he couldn't be a cop anymore, Felix hadn't known what to say. Now Carles—same blank.
"Here—cold Coke."Carles lit up. "You do have a heart. I haven't had a cold Coke in forever."
He twisted the cap and chugged, then coughed until he sprayed a mist that traced his eye. "God, Coke is sweet."