The Virtuoso

Twenty-first precinct Sergeant Waters. Stole your what? Yeah. Oh. Where was it? 647? Where was it? Uh-huh. You are in the master room at the twenty-first 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, I'll tell you what you'd better do. You'd better come into the stationhouse and give a report to the detectives. Yeah, that's right. Between Lexington and the 3rd. Okay, you're welcome. 21st Precinct. It's just lines on a map of the City of New York. Most of the 173,000 people waded into the 9th and 10th square mile between Fifth Avenue and the East River wouldn't know

know if you asked them that they lived or worked in the 21st, whether 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 patrolmen, 11 sergeants, and four lieutenants of whom I am the boss. My name is Canelli, Frank Canelli. I am Captain in command of the 21st. I was working my night tour, 4 p.m. to 8 a.m.

During the early part of the tour, I had been called in from patrol to investigate the attempted suicide of a prisoner confined in the cells in the rear of the stationhouse. The prisoner, a young man of 23, had been arrested by detectives during the afternoon on a charge of Grand Larceny. After questioning, he had been booked by the desk officer and placed

in a cell to await the opening of court. At the time of his booking, his necktie, belt, and shoelaces had been taken from him, but he attempted to hang himself using his shirt sleeve as a noose.