The Fence - Dick Lehr [99]
“That’s not a bad way to go to court—it has to be them!”
Nearly a year later, Bob Peabody would feel otherwise.
Its newsworthiness notwithstanding, the probe of the Cox beating continued below the Boston media’s radar under a cloak of darkness, talked about by police in rumor and whispers in station house locker rooms, out on patrol, or in the bars after shifts, often crackling with a tension that, on occasion, erupted.
Craig Jones, for one, had trouble containing his anger—and he targeted Ian Daley as an outlet for his frustration. “After Mike told me about Ian Daley trying to handcuff him, I’m like, ‘That’s got to be the one guy that knows exactly what happened, the guy standing there with the handcuffs.’” Late one night Craig happened to walk into the Roxbury station house and spotted Daley already in the front lobby. Craig sat down near the front desk to write up a report about an arrest. Daley stood not far away.
Craig looked over. “Why don’t you come clean?”
Daley said he didn’t know what Craig was talking about.
“Just come clean, Ian. You know what happened.”
Daley again said he didn’t know what Craig meant.
Craig couldn’t take it. “You’re a liar,” he yelled.
Heads turned. Craig swore at Daley and Daley yelled back. The sergeant on duty got up and came around from behind his desk, “Hey! Hey! Knock it off!” He then ordered the two officers into a side room, where he kept them until they cooled off.
But it didn’t end there. The two had a second run-in. Both responded to a late night shooting several weeks later on Lawrence Avenue in Dorchester. Craig, working in plainclothes, was walking up the street when he saw Daley walking in the other direction. Immediately Craig began gesturing theatrically—raising his arms over his head and crossing his hands at the wrists in mockery of the new identification signal implemented by the police commissioner for plainclothes officers to give to uniformed officers. “I’m a police officer!” Craig yelled melodramatically. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Fuck you,” Daley said.
Daley complained to his supervisors at the Roxbury station, and, once again, Craig was told to knock it off. Craig got no satisfaction from the run-ins, but couldn’t help himself. “When I encountered Ian Daley,” he said, “I’m upset about what happened and how all the officers who were there for some reason never saw a damned thing.”
Jimmy Burgio and Dave Williams, meanwhile, were carrying on as usual. They showed up for work and performed their regular shifts. To earn more, they worked paid details. For Burgio, the extra money was welcome. On Saturday, June 24, he married a Dorchester woman he’d met earlier in the year. Williams went, toasting Jimmy’s big day, while Burgio’s longtime partner, Lenny Lilly, served as one of the ushers. For Burgio and Williams, the probe was little more than background noise.
Around the time of his interview with Bob Peabody, Mike and Kimberly headed over to Franklin Park one sunny weekend to take advantage of the warmer weather. The park, the city’s largest, with 527 acres, could be a dangerous place after hours. Rape and murder on the park’s grounds were an unfortunate and dark side to its history. The night of the beating, Mike, Craig, and the other officers had chased the gold Lexus along the park’s east side, roaring down Blue Hill Avenue. But the daytime was entirely different. The park was home to a zoo, a golf course, and playing fields for baseball and soccer. Families picnicked on weekend days. Joggers and bicyclists dotted the pathways.
The long walk was a chance for husband and wife to be alone and to get out of the crowded, densely built street where they lived. Kimberly’s graduation from medical school