The Friend

Twenty-five three things starting climb. Who's dead? Who? He was killed. Where is it? Where? 888 East What? East 70th? Who is it calling? You are in a month, a room at the 21st Precinct, the nerve center.

That's why. A call is coming through. You will follow the action taken pursuant to that call from this minute until the final report is written is written in the 124 room at the 21st Precinct.

Alright, just the right way you are. The officers will be there right away. Yes, right away. They'll take care of it. Yes, right away. 21st Precinct. It's just lines on a map of the city of New York.

Most of 173,000 people wagged into the 910th of the square mile between Fifth Avenue and the East River wouldn't know if you asked them that they lived or worked in the 21st. Whether they know it or not, the security of their persons, their homes and their property is my job.

My job and the job of the 160 patrolman, 11 sergeants and four lieutenant of whom I am the boss. My name is Canelli, Frank Canelli. I am Captain in command of the 21st. What makes a city?

Not buildings, not subways, not business. People make a city. From dawn to midnight, from midnight to dawn. People pour their lives together and stir up the city. where even love can lead to death. I was working my 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. tour.

When I arrived at the station house, I signed the blotter and read over reports and communications that had accumulated since I went off duty 24 hours previously. Shortly at 8, I walked into the muster room and turned out to platoon for the day tour.