The Faded Blue Line: The Conner Phoenix series, Book I of II

By Christopher Wihbey Sr.

After college and a stint in the military, Conner Phoenix finds himself on a law enforcement career path. Conner is driven to police work. Like most young and aspiring police officers, Conner has tremendous respect for our current law enforcement representatives who operate under such harrowing scrutiny. He also has a very traditional ideal of what a police officer looks like and how they represent their community.

This first book in the Conner Phoenix series, takes the reader from the Police Academy to the streets. The new reality is that Cadet Phoenix finds himself in a quagmire of disappointment and confusion in the criminal justice system right at the beginning of his young and promising career.

The Millbury Police Department and its locker room drama continue to unfold until Conner is forced to enter into a labyrinth of special assignments and undercover work in order to expose the local criminal justice system for what it is, corrupt. Jane Kennedy, a Special Investigator for the States Attorney's Office, asks Conner Phoenix to do the impossible. She wants him to Infiltrate and expose potential corruption at the highest levels of justice, as well as turn state's evidence on his friends and coworkers in order to out wayward cops.

Its stories like these that distort the 'The Thin Blue Line' of police loyalty to 'The Faded Blue Line'. Loosely based upon some true to life events, this story will take you on a wild ride of ups and downs in the adventures of Officer Conner Phoenix.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098329068

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 by Christopher Wihbey, Sr.

The Faded Blue Line

The Conner Phoenix series, Book I of II

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording,

or any information storage and retrieval system now known or invented,

without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes

to quote brief passages in connection with a review written

for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-09832-905-1

eBook ISBN: 978-1-09832-906-8

About the Author

The Faded Blue Line is Christopher J. Wihbey’s, Sr.’s second novel as a freelance writer. This novel will be published three years after his release, The Unthinkable Alliance, a Marriage of Ideological Convenience. Both books are based upon the stories of the main character, Officer Conner Phoenix. 

He is currently a patrol Sergeant working at the Wolcott Police Department in Wolcott, CT where he resides with his wife Nefra and two children, Christopher, Jr. and Brayden Jean.

He is a graduate of Salve Regina University with a B.S. degree in Economics/Pre-law and attained his M.S. from Boston University in Criminal Justice. He is a state certified Advanced Emergency Medical Technician and worked on a commercial ambulance for some years before joining the Law Enforcement community. Christopher is a certified Police and Emergency Services Instructor and has held several positions within his department including Patrolman, DARE Officer, Explorer Program Coordinator, Color Guard Coordinator, Grants Coordinator, Investigator and Patrol Sergeant. He is the recipient of several recognition and appreciation awards throughout his law enforcement career including the Enrique Camarena Award, the Presidential Volunteer Award, the EMS Life Saving Award, DWI Enforcement Recognitions, and Community Police Officer of the Year.

Prologue

After college and a stint in the military, Conner Phoenix finds himself on a law enforcement career path. Conner is driven to police work. Like most young and aspiring police officers, Conner has tremendous respect for our current law enforcement representatives who operate under such harrowing scrutiny. He also has a very traditional ideal of what a police officer looks like and how they represent their community. 

This first book in the Conner Phoenix series, takes the reader from the Police Academy to the streets. The new reality is that Cadet Phoenix finds himself in a quagmire of disappointment and confusion in the criminal justice system right at the beginning of his young and promising career. 

The Millbury Police Department and its locker room drama continue to unfold until Conner is forced to enter into a labyrinth of special assignments and undercover work in order to expose the local criminal justice system for what it is, corrupt. Jane Kennedy, a Special Investigator for the States Attorney’s Office, asks Conner Phoenix to do the impossible. She wants him to Infiltrate and expose potential corruption at the highest levels of justice, as well as turn state’s evidence on his friends and coworkers in order to out wayward cops. 

Its stories like these that distort the ‘The Thin Blue Line’ of police loyalty to ‘The Faded Blue Line’. Loosely based upon some true to life events, this story will take you on a wild ride of ups and downs in the adventures of Officer Conner Phoenix.

Forward

This book is dedicated to my father Doctor Joseph G. Wihbey, MD and my mother Barbara Norman Wihbey. I would also like to thank my family for all of their support and my close friends, you know who you are. 

The Faded Blue Line is a fictional story. It was inspired by a host of true events that occurred during my tenure as a law enforcement officer. 

The character names were inspired by colleagues, mentors and friends. They are all fictitious names and the story is an interpretation by this author of how events could have unfolded over a very auspicious and strange ten years of my career. 

I was fascinated, intrigued and beleaguered by several events that took place in the county where I live and work. For several years it was all the ‘buzz’. There was a lot of speculation and conjecture about what ‘really happened’ at a time when there seemed to be no limit of ‘are you flipping kidding me’ moments. 

I was hesitant to write this book. Fearing that my peers would misinterpret, or take exception, to the story. It is simply one possibility of how things may have happened, utilizing the mind of Conner Phoenix.

I hope you enjoy the book for what it is, a good story. 

Characters

Conner Phoenix—Police Officer, Millbury PD 

Nick Brevetti, Mary Smith A.K.A. ‘Mother Mary’— Cadet Trainees

Lawrence Edmunds—Millbury, Chief of Police

Casey Macklemore—Detective, Millbury PD

Brian Lubinsky—Sergeant, Millbury PD 

Janice Kennedy—Assistant State’s Attorney, City of Locke 

Kenny Skelly—FBI, Special Agent in Charge

Jennifer Scott—a.k.a. Jenny Mark—FBI, Agent assigned to

Dignitary Protection

Carlton Booker—Narcotics arrestee

Terrance Poplar—A.K.A. ‘T-Pop’, Confidential Informant

Samuel Mazz—DUI arrestee

Mathew Milo—Attorney 

Paxton Manta—City of Locke, court investigator 

Judge Richard Pisani—A.K.A. ‘Hurricane Richard’,

City of Locke Court Judge

James Donnelly—Jimmy ‘D’, City of Locke States Attorney and

lead Prosecutor 

Gina Gugliotti—The Golden Cabaret, Event Coordinator and Personnel

Lance O’Toole—Chief of Police for the City of Locke

Camila Creole—Aspiring singer and lounge dancer 

1

When I was in the Air Force, I had completed assignments as a Medic and Intelligence Specialist. Upon my honorable discharge, I had honed my craft as a Medic through the military training academy. In the military branches, Medics have a wide range of skills that are allowable in the field. As opposed to the constraints of civilian hospitals and professional emergency service operations. The Medics always operate as if they are in wartime operations. If service personnel were injured during war time operations, or on a peace time training mission, there were no distinctions in the military Emergency Services Unit.

I had taken a job on a commercial ambulance as a technician upon my Honorable Discharge. That job proved to be somewhat of a bust. The big commercial ambulance services are companies that are ‘for profit’ businesses. They low bid city contracts for 9-11 coverage and obtain the emergency response component only to maintain communal relationships and ties to their sponsor hospitals. Their money is not made picking up the indigent and homeless with no health care insurance. 

The immigrant families and destitute population utilize the 911 system as their personal Uber. The sick calls made by the third-floor apartment dweller become the nemesis of the EMS world. The houses with no numbers, the dangers of the city, navigating the logistics of the cluttered back staircase, the disabled cars, language barriers etc., all of this results in EMS crews getting hurt and taking forever on scene. 

The dispatchers and company management utilize Global Positioning Systems (GPS) to track exact locations of crews and their on-scene times. They prod the crews like cattle. Management constantly shuffles the non-paying emergency patients out of their ambulances, so that they can make room for the Medicare transports in and out of facilities. Those government checks come down like rain in the amazon. 

Employees like me (Conner Phoenix) and my crew mates don’t seem to last long when we care too much. It’s a system. One that makes money. The exciting, rewarding, and challenging emergency calls are like a flat tire to the giant corporations and their CEO’s. Their motto when a flat occurs - stop and assess. Mind your safety. Change out the tire quick and get the vehicle moving again… NOW! 

I sat back and stretched out my arms and took a mental break while I typed my two-week notice. Reflecting on a recent call, I looked off into the distance like a combat veteran with a thousand-yard stare. 

It was 0230 hrs in November. It was cold. Myself and my EMS crew mate were trying to finish up an overnight shift. The smell of diesel fumes from the exhaust of the ambulance eminent. We had been at our post for some time now and the knock from the diesel engine groaned as the heat kicked in again. We had spent the day and evening running some of our seniors from one end of God’s creation to the other. A few minor medicals in between. It seemed we were on our way to an uneventful shift, for a change. 

My partner and I were leaning against the posts by our respective seat belt retractors. We both had folded arms in an effort to get one minute of comfort before the next call for service. I whispered over to my partner behind the wheel hey bud, I’m gonna get ten minutes of rack time. I feel like shit.

Thankfully this partner on the recent shift bid was more on the normal side of Emergency Services. Ok Conner, I’ll watch road and the radio. I’m next. I will wake you up in a bit. 

Just when I was about to fade out. The radio chirped and crackled with that annoying dispatcher voice not far behind. 

Northwest Communication to City Ambulance 329, come in. Dammit, always when you are sick and tired. Unit 329 go-ahead Northwest. My partner was on point. Unit 329 take a 9-eleven in the city. Johnny’s Bar. Location: 2122 Main Street. Caller states he was involved in a fight at closing time and sustained a facial laceration and epistaxis. PD on scene and will assist. That’s 2122 Main Street.

Copy that Northwest 2122 Main Street for the fight. My partner responds and then quips in anger always the loser. Just once I would a winner of a fight to call 911, fucking nosebleed. Take your lumps and go home. He slammed the shifter down in haste and the ambulance lurched. Several items in the back shelves were heard falling from their perch and the back tire squealed as we exited our nest.

I readjust. Buckle and mutter I don’t think it works that way bud. We sit in silence and focus as the red and white strobe lights bounce off of the darkness. The siren blares and echoes off the dark houses in sleepy suburbia. I am sure everyone that is in the path is cursing that dreaded siren that wakes them from a sound sleep. Like people in a war shelter hearing the whale of an air raid, or maybe something less dramatic.

We arrived at Johnny’s Bar and as my partner grabs the gear, I pick up the mic Unit 329 out. The night shift cops on scene were looking more pissed than usual. There was some shouting amongst a group of people being shuffled off to their vehicles. Lots of F bombs fading in and out of range. The scene was fairly chaotic. I was approached by a young-looking patrolman who was looking on point with his crisp uniform. He was like the rookie cop that I so desperately wanted to be.

The patrolman reported on the situation. Hey, thanks for coming out so quickly, he quipped. These idiots in the bar decided to show off their 2 AM beer muscles right on time. The one we have in the back of the squad car was the loser. He is our complainant and we don’t take complaints from uncooperative drunks. He does, however, have a pretty bad nosebleed and a cut above his eye. Can you guys take a look? It was as much as a statement as a question. 

The rookie police officer opened the rear passenger door of the cruiser and our patient immediately took it upon himself to explain how wronged he was by everyone this evening. Even the bartender wasn’t excluded. He seemed to be shouting something about how the bartender lied to the police about what had actually happened tonight in order to protect his friend. He was almost crying as he whined his recollection of the incident that led up to his fate. He was swearing and mostly inaudible. At times muttering nonsense. The cop raised both hands as he looked at my partner and I in a gesture of ‘see, he is drunk and uncooperative.’

I can usually connect with angry drunks. I myself have had a few days I would like to forget back in college.

Hello sir. My Name is Conner Phoenix, I am with the ambulance. The police here asked us to take a look at you. I can see you have some blood coming out of your nose and it looks like you have a nice laceration above your eye. Is it okay if we treat your injuries in the ambulance? 

I gestured towards the awaiting ambulance with the alley lights illuminating the company logo, almost like an advertisement. He immediately started squawking again. One thing was clear, he didn’t want to be in the back of a police car. My partner opened up the rear doors of the ambulance and despite regulations the drunken victim stepped up and crawled towards the bench. He sat and continued in stride. They all beat the shit out of me and left! The cops didn’t even care about my statements. They didn’t even stop the guys that assaulted me, and they let them drive away. I told them they were leaving, and I pointed out who they guys were. They just let them go! The cops in this town are all crooked pieces of shit! They are friends with the guys that beat me up! He looked at me and pleaded I know you saw them. They were the guys being shoved in their cars and ferried off by the crooked cops! He was pointing at the cops outside the ambulance rear doors and all over the parking lot.

As he was shouting and whining and carrying on, he was rotating his head as if it was detaching. My partner and I were cleaning up his wounds with a moistened gauze 4x4. We had already placed some butterfly stitches and taped a small dressing above his eye, which stopped the bleeding. My partner and I had a way of cutting band aids while they were still in their packaging resembling makeshift band aid staple. It was at this time my partner looked at me in absolute horror. What? I asked. 

He pointed towards his eyes and made a round circle with his pointer finger. He was motioning for me to look at my glasses. I exited the back of the ambulance and looked in the driver’s side mirror with a flashlight illuminating my face like some Stephen King character. I noticed it immediately. My entire face was covered in blood spittle. My glasses covered and face splattered. Lips peppered with blood spatter. 

I knew immediately, whatever I wiped would spread the blood all over. I knew I had to not lick or rub or touch anything. I walked in a circle like a zombie. Totally frozen and trying not to panic. At the same time realizing this was a pretty significant exposure incident. For whatever reason, I had an innate urge to lick my lips, wipe, or touch my face. Protocols need to be enacted and lots of bells need to be rung. First and foremost, what should I wipe my face with? I began to walk around the ambulance and mutter mostly swears. Get some alcohol. Get a Vionex wipe. Dip my head in bleach, Dear Lord. 

My partner knew enough to secure the drunk and have the cops watch him while he tended to his newest patient. He called out as he grabbed a hold of me. Phoenix stop walking around. Let’s clean you up. He donned some surgical gloves and started wiping my face with an antiviral and antibacterial wipe the ambulance supply house provides. Don’t wipe it into my mouth or eyes I pleaded. I know, I know relax. 

My partner was wiping and reassuring when he clicked on the portable, right after the audible beep he transmitted Unit 329, Unit #329 to dispatch. Some panic evident. Go ahead 329. Another beep Unit 329, my partner had an exposure incident. Pretty bad. We are requesting a supervisor to the scene and another bus to transport while we remain on scene for paperwork. The patient is stable and awaiting transport to the local facility for further treatment. We will be on scene with PD waiting on a supervisor and the second bus priority one please." 

Well if I wasn’t panicked before, I am now. What’s wrong, what happened? I was afraid to ask or hear the response. Well partner, when I removed your glasses and started cleaning you up, I noticed there was some blood spatter around your eyes. I think some made its way into your mucous areas of your eyes and mouth. You definitely had yourself a nice exposure incident. Welcome to EMS.

I wiped off every exposed piece of skin to the point that it hurt to touch my face or hands. I was even washing up with the liquid hand sanitizer I found on the bus like it was shampoo. The supervisor showed up on scene and walked towards my partner and I. Almost like he was going to finish me off. I guess the thought of the paperwork he had to complete made him angry. Phoenix, what happened? He said it like it was my fault of course.

After explaining the situation, he walked over to the seated drunk who was now surprisingly calm. What’s your story? You know, you spit your blood from your mouth and nose all over my employees face and mouth. He was exposed to your blood. What was the fight about anyway?

I thought that was a strange question at the time. Of all the things he was curious about I was not sure why he got beat up had any pertinence to my current situation. 

The question seemed to strike a chord and the drunk started shouting all over again. That asshole at the bar talked with me all night. Not a problem. We were having a good time, and everything was great. One of the bartender assholes told the guy I was talking with that I was gay. They beat the shit out of me for no reason, because I am GAY! He started shouting at the cops and my boss recreating the scene my partner and I experienced thirty minutes prior. 

We were in that unknown HIV and AIDS state at that time. Emergency workers, nursing staff, police and Corrections were all in a semi-panicked state at all times when blood was involved. Hepatitis and some diseases were still contagious up to ten days outside of the body. Most of the EMS workers around headquarters talked about the dangers of HIV by needle sticks. We almost never spoke of blood spit. My supervisor looked at me almost solemn like I was a dead man walking Okay Phoenix, don’t stress. Let’s get you to the hospital for treatment. He turned to the drunk and the cop standing guard you are going for a ride to the hospital too my friend. We need your blood so we can check you for diseases and anything we need to be concerned about. Seems whatever you have, EMT Phoenix now has. He motioned to both of us with his open hands as if to indicate we were now connected in matrimony or something. 

Fuck you. I ain’t giving you cops or ambulance pricks anything. I want to go home. I don’t want to make a complaint anymore. These cops let the guys that beat me up drive away. This is all a big waste of time. I want to go home. He folded his arms as if to indicate we should just call him a cab and move on. The patrolman pulled us all aside and reassured us yah, okay buddy. Just shut your mouth before you infect someone else.

He leaned in to my partner and I he doesn’t have a choice. New state statute is in effect. Any emergency worker that has a documented exposure incident like this the host has no choice but to provide a sample for examination and further testing. We will hold him down or get a search warrant if we have to. I called my Sergeant and he will meet us all at the hospital. Let’s get out of here and get going. We have already been on scene way too long and there are other calls pending. We have another bar brawl across town.

Away we all went to the hospital, like some Presidential entourage. After all the explanations to charge nurses and on duty Emergency Department physicians, we were told to wait like the rest of the angry mob in the waiting area. The plethora of shiny brass badges all over the Emergency Department floor and adjacent waiting area became a distraction for everyone. The entire hospital staff were now keenly aware of our presence and the reason we were all there. I was still wiping and rinsing and gargling. 

After several hours, my partner and I were approached by the police Sergeant well phoenix, we got his blood. My chief spoke with our local prosecutor and it’s looking like you will be the first exposure incident since this new legislation allowing us to take blood unwillingly. You see, the hospital staff didn’t want to talk to us about his medical history. They said it was a violation of some HIPAA0 hospital privacy act. They also threw around some Ryan White Act language.

I had previously read about that Ryan White Act. He was a child infected with HIV and the parents believed the hospital staff discriminated against him via his treatment or lack thereof. They sued and advocated for privacy with respect to disclosing any disease or virus a patient has, so that it doesn’t affect treatment. 

The Sergeant continued we ended up getting a warrant for the blood draw and analyzation anyway just to cover our butt’s. One thing for sure, you are definitely the state’s first use of this new legislation on EMS exposure incidents. We will get the results in a few weeks and contact your supervisor.

He turned and left and gathered up his remaining cops like ducklings and they left us there like that loser in a bar fight. In the distance we could hear the drunk in one of the ED exam cubby’s yelling you fucker’s stole my blood. I want out of here now! 

I looked at my partner and supervisor and sighed. Well, I guess I can tell my kids about this. Hopefully. I chuckled nervously. We all knew it wasn’t funny.

The doctor came over and introduced himself. I was shriveled up on the gurney in my concert T-shirt. I threw out my work shirt patches and all. Mr. Phoenix. I am sorry about your misfortune. The good news is our uncooperative patient back there did report that he has no communicable diseases and his chart shows nothing remarkable. Until we get the results of his blood draw, we recommend you begin treatment. As you know we have no cure for HIV, currently, but we are making strides every day. We currently treat exposure incidents with a six-month regiment of antiviral medications. We call it a cocktail. Although it is very involved, it is the best we have at this time. There are significant side effects to the cocktail of antiviral medications and if you elect not to start the recommended exposure treatments, before you leave, you will have to sign several waivers. Additionally, we will need to take a blood sample from you today and continue your sampling for the next six months.

He picked up a needle and several red tubes for blood collection. He waved them in front of me as if to say, ‘get ready’. Yes, I believe this incident was my big welcome to the wonderful world of Emergency Services.

I blinked a few times and shook off that memory. Leaving the EMS job may not be the worst thing to ever happen to me. Just like many of my co-workers at the ambulance, I wanted to be a police officer. I respected their uniform. Their calm. The authority that they commanded and respected. I knew it would be an uphill battle to get into a department, it would be worth the effort. Seeing those police officers at that scene at Johnny’s Bar was an image etched into my brain. The memory is like some random eighties band video where the officers shield and polished boots glimmered around the frantic and hectic scene. The fog machine smoke emanating all around, as the crispy clean officers’ point and command to eliminate the chaos.

Well, I always had a flare for the dramatic. I work best under pressure. I love to work with people and I never want the days to be monotonous. So, I started to apply for entry level police officer positions throughout the state.

I

THE STRUGGLE

IS REAl . . .

2

My father had once told me that being a police officer is a noble profession, but the income is limited. He softly and intellectually reported that you reach a certain salary and that is the most money you can make. On the contrary, if you own your own business, or you work for yourself, the income potential is limitless. He also added as a sidebar conversation that the police career was also dangerous. There seemed to be a lot of cops getting hurt or killed in the line of duty. I can remember like it was yesterday, dad asking are you sure that’s what you want to do for a living?

 The denial letters from various departments were starting to pile up. I am not quite sure why I saved them. I initially just threw them in a brittle cardboard box. Then I started placing them in a file. It wasn’t long before they made their way into a milk crate because the cardboard box and file holders were getting worn and losing their grip on their contents. The responses were one and two paragraphs and in standard font. Some were hand signed by the department heads. Most were stamped or signed by the detective responsible for the background check. I was making it past the written exam with flying colors. I always nailed the interview. On a few occasions, with area police departments, I made it to the polygraph exam or final interview.

The polygraph was always entertaining. Some Detective or Special Unit Sergeant would hook me up to the lie detector machine. Looking like I was a participant in a NASA physical for an upcoming launch, the polygraph examiner would pepper me with questions. All trying to prove or elicit deception on my part. That was the key component. Was I being deceptive? Did I forget something that I did in my teenage years that I was too embarrassed to discuss? Did I regress and push some memories so far back in my mind that I don’t even remember engaging in that specific illegal behavior? 

The examiner over his prescription glasses asks, "Conner Phoenix. Is that your real name? Yes or