Thanks, Detective Perez

I don't know if art imitates life or the other way around, but one of the most gratifying things I discovered when I took a job as an ADA in New York City was how NYPD detectives do, in fact, walk, talk, drive and generally act like what pop culture would suggest.  I found a great combination of that bravado, competence and integrity in a Bronx Special Victims Detective named Freddie Perez when I arrived there in the fall of 2005.I met Freddie about a month into the job as a Child Abuse and Sex ADA, during my first miserable day in the miserable environment that was the "complaint room," or the dank, garishly lit, filthy office area where crimes were written up by prosecutors on duty for the day or evening.  He was around 30 at the time, a young man to have a detective's shield.  I knew of him; his build, his smile and his edgy charm made him a big hit with the women in my office, and he had a reputation as a hard worker.  The case Freddie brought me was a brutal attempted rape.  The victim was a teenage, coffee colored girl who had been attacked while short-cutting through an alley near her apartment after a waitress shift.  The young woman, I'll call her Carla, had been pistol whipped, spit on and forced to strip by her attacker, who thankfully fled when a neighbor turned on a backyard light and scared him off.Freddie caught the case and eventually a suspect, and brought Carla to the complaint room, where all victims in the Bronx must go in person to sign the official charging documents.  Because I was in sex crimes, the case fell to me.  He brought Carla into the cubicle where I was, and she sat down across from me.  She was a lovely young woman, delicate and childlike even with a couple of tattoos and some funky jewelry.  Her mother and her boyfriend waited outside while she recited what had happened to her, and I translated it into the legalese of the complaint.  At times during her account of the events she broke down, and I paused to give her time to collect herself.  I kept my speech slightly slow, and I spoke in low tones, the way I had been taught and had always done with victims of violent crime.  Freddie’s manner with her was a little different.  It was shocking at first, but then gratifying as I saw that it was working beautifully.“Carla, for Chrissake!” he said, smiling, when she choked on a word and started to cry at one point.  “What did I say?  No more cryin!’ This guy’s got work to do!”  Her short sobs were immediately mixed with giggles and she slapped at him.“Shut up! I’m allowed to cry some!”“No, no- you had your chance.  This is all business.  C’mon.”  With banter like that, we got through Carla’s account and wrote the complaint up.  By the end of the process it was obvious he had developed a rapport with her over several days and knew how best to make her comfortable.  He sent her out to the waiting room briefly as I prepared the complaint for the two of them to sign.  Carla did not know the name of the person who had assaulted her.  She had only picked him out of a line-up, which he had appeared in because she had first picked him out from a computer photo program used by NYPD which served as kind of a hi-tech mug book.  Once she was gone, I congratulated Freddie on how well he'd worked with the victim, and also on the great collar.  His smile disappeared."Rog, he's not the guy.""Freddie, what the f__?"  He shrugged."I'm telling you, it's not him.  I had to arrest him- she picked him out of a line-up.  We went in through the front door, pulled him outta bed.  I took one look at him.  He's not the guy.""But he was in the area that night, right?" I asked, looking over the reports I had."Yeah.  And he didn't have much of an alibi, even though he's married.  But I'm telling you, man.  He's not the guy.  Whoever did this is an animal.  This guy's not that.  I hate it for her, but I think she just picked out the wrong guy.""Alright," I said.  "Whoever did it spit all over her and there's probably DNA. We'll figure it out."A day or two later I got a call from the defendant's attorney.  He'd been practicing for over 20 years, he assured me.  He didn't believe all of his clients were innocent.  In fact, he didn't believe almost any of them were innocent.  But this guy, he believed- hell, he knew- was innocent.  Could we at least expedite the DNA and make sure the guy wasn't getting completely brutalized at Rikers?  Yes to both, I said.  I didn't say anything about what Freddie had told me; there was nothing concrete yet to reveal except a detective's intuition.  But because of his doubts in particular, I agreed to check on the guy at Rikers and see how fast I could get the DNA back.  When it returned, he was cleared and released.  Carla was devastated, understandably, about getting an innocent man arrested and still not knowing who had attacked her, but Freddie worked with her through that as well.  The real perp was eventually caught in another state with a string of similar crimes.Despite what common sense might suggest, studies show that even well seasoned detectives aren't any better at detecting deception- with very good liars- than college students.  Psychopaths in particular can lie to almost anyone successfully.  Regardless, instincts are incredibly important in detective work, and Freddie's were almost always dead on.  The uncanny knack he had for just recognizing something wrong, off, or unexpected in a case saved us a lot of time, and some unnecessary misery for guys who didn't belong in jail in the first place because of a tragic but honest mistake.  Combined with the genuine respect and compassion he showed for the victims we worked with, whatever their circumstances, he was a gem.  One of the last cases he worked was a nightmarish one with a dear friend of mine still at the Bronx DA's office, and involved a child sex abuse victim the same age as his oldest daughter.  Both Freddie and Danielle Pascale, the ADA, worked tirelessly on the case and with the victim, and obtained a conviction and a well deserved decades long sentence.  It was a tough case for Freddie in particular, but he held his own and did his job.Freddie's career was cut short because of an injury, and I was honored to celebrate with him and another terrific SVU detective at their retirement party earlier this month.  Freddie loved being a cop, but he's excited about starting on his new life, raising his daughters and moving on to whatever lies ahead.  I'm happy for him, but I'm sad for the venerable NYPD and the community he served.  Thanks, Detective.  And Godspeed.