The Copperhead

One of those three things, Sergeant Tierney. Yeah. All right. Could I have your book and take down this alarm? 14 year old boy, I'm missing from home. His name is Eddie Sampson. Yeah. Yeah, that's right.

Five feet, four inches. You are in the must of woman for 21st Precinct, the neuro 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 rooms at the 21st Precinct.

Alright, just keep your eyes open for them. Yeah, that's right. Missing from home. Okay, alright. 21st Precinct. Just blinds on the map of the city of New York. Most of the 173,000 people, into the 910th of the square mile between 5th 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 homes, their persons and their property is the job of the men of the 21st Precinct. The 21st, 160th of Coleman, 11th Sergeant, and four lieutenants of whom I'm the boss. My name is Connelly, Frank Connelly. I'm Captain in command of the 21st.

I was working my night tour, 4PM to 8AM. When I came into the station house at 3.35PM, I went around to desk to sign the blotters. Lieutenant Gorman, who would be guest officer during the forthcoming tour, was already there in getting a summary of patrol conditions in the precinct from Lieutenant Snyder, who

was working the 8-4. I walked into my office where I found a message to call the District Surgeon of the Department. As the call was being put through, I glanced at a few reports and communications which seemed important to the 124-man who left them in a prominent place on my desk.