The Purse

24th-day spacing sergeant waters. Yeah, what's a trouble? Is there any identification on a person? Yeah Yeah What does she say when you ask who she is you are in the master 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, we'll bring her into the station house. Stay there. I'll send a car around for you. Okay. Yeah. All right. Twenty-first precinct transcribed. It's just lines on a map of the city of New York.

Most of the 173,000 people wedged into the nine-tenths of a square mile between Fifth Avenue and the East River wouldn't know if you asked them that they lived or worked in the twenty-first. 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 patrolman, 11 sergeants, and four lieutenants of whom I am the boss. My name is Connelly, Frank Connelly. I am Captain in command of the 21st. I was working my night tour, 4 p.m. to 8 a.m.

It had been a busy night in the precinct with plenty of work, but by the time the 12 to 8 platoon reported for duty at midnight, things had quieted down. At 2.15 am I returned to the station house from patrol. Then, because there was a meeting of all precinct commanders in the borough scheduled for 9 am, I laid down on the couch in my office

to get a few hours' sleep. Meanwhile, patrol of the precinct continued with 62 men on the job assigned to sector cars or on foot. Among these was patrolman Edward Farrell assigned to post number six, which included three blocks along Lexington Avenue in the 80s. At 2.55 am he was walking his post when a slightly built man dressed in a white apron and