The Shotgun

21st Precinct Sergeant Waters. Wait a minute, who is it? Shut your husband. Where? What's the address? Yeah? Yeah? 45 or 49? You are in the muster room at the 21st Precinct, the nerve center. A call is coming through.

You will follow the action taken pursuant to that call from this minute until the final report is written in the 124 room at the 21st Precinct. All right, you stay right there. Out in the office right over.

Yeah. Right away. The 173,000 people wedged into the 910th of the square mile between 57. You know, in the East River, wouldn't know if you asked them that they lived or worked in the 21st.

But they know it or not. The security of their homes, their persons and their property is the job of the men of the 21st Precinct. The 21st, 160-foot-tronement, 11-sargent and 4-root-tenants of who mind the boss.

My name is Connelly, Frank Connelly. I'm Captain in command of the 21st. I was working my night tour, 4 p.m. to 8 a.m. The 4 to 12 tour had been exceedingly quiet due in part to a heavy downpour of rain, which began early in the afternoon and continued until nearly 11.

Troublemakers like to get wet no more than anyone else and a good rain keeps them off the street By midnight when I turned out to put to him for the late tour the sky had turned clear all over the street to the city We're still wet and glistening After the men had botched out the front door of the station house

I went into my office to dispose of some accumulated paperwork and await the appearance of patrolman Daniel Richie He had requested to see me when he came off the job at midnight in regard to a leave of absence for the purpose of attending to personal business in Florida in connection with his father's