Jarkko Sipila - Nothing but the Truth

“Uhh,” Kulta hesitated. “I have to make a call here. Officer, uh…” he glanced at the name tag on the beat officer’s shirt pocket. “…Räsänen can field your questions.”

Räsänen looked at Kulta with desperation in his eyes. Kulta gave a quick nod as he motioned for Kohonen to follow him.

“So why are we being arrested?” Willer bellowed from the sidewalk. “We haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Yes, can you tell us the reason for this arrest?” the reporter yelled after the detectives as they hurried off.

Räsänen peered after Kulta and Kohonen. “Uhhh, well…it’s a question of public safety and keeping the peace,” he stammered.

The other beat cop led the second Skull out of the road and set him down next to Willer.

“That’s right, public safety and keeping the peace,” he repeated.

By then, Kulta and Kohonen were about twenty yards behind the Lehtonens. Once around the corner, they picked up the pace. Wailing sirens were drawing near. Backup for Räsänen was on the way. The situation there was under control.

Kulta turned to Kohonen, “Laura’s probably on the way to school,” he said. They picked up the pace once more and finally caught up.

“Morning,” said Kulta. “We’re from the Helsinki Police. We’ll be helping you out today.”

“We don’t need any help,” said Mari coldly. Laura wore a red knit hat, jacket, and had a book bag slung over her shoulder. She stayed close to her mother.

“In any case, we’ll be looking after you. I’m Mikko Kulta and this here’s Kirsi Kohonen.”

“Fine,” said Lehtonen. “Same rules as before then. Stay at least thirty feet away at all times.”

“As you wish.”

“So what was that all about back there?” asked Mari.

Kulta smiled. “Well, in order to establish a monopoly on your protection we have to squeeze out the gangsters.”

“Gangsters, huh?” said Mari.

“That’s right. On your payroll, apparently.”

“I’m not paying anybody. My ex-husband called yesterday and said a few of his friends wanted to look after me. I told him it makes no difference to me.”

Her impudence was beginning to grate on Kohonen. “Don’t you think you could have at least let us know?”

Lehtonen glared at the redheaded policewoman. “I didn’t ask you to come. It really makes no difference to me. Thirty feet, please.”

“Are we headed for the school?” said Kulta.

Mari nodded curtly, annoyed by the fact that her day wasn’t shaping up to be so normal after all.

Kulta hurried ahead, and Kohonen dropped back to a distance of thirty feet.

* * *

Takamäki was in the VCU break room reading the news on teletext, a text-based news service on TV. The headline read, Conditions Reach Boiling Point for Threatened Witness.

The lieutenant read the article: An incident occurred this morning on Porvoo Street near the residence of the same murder witness targeted in yesterday’s attempted bomb strike. Police arrested two gang members in front of the building, one of whom told reporters on the scene that the threatened witness had paid them as bodyguards because the police weren’t fit for the job. The Helsinki VCU has not commented on the incident.

Further down were two headlines in different colored fonts. Interior Minister: “We’re looking into the matter.” Minister of Justice: “Improvements are forthcoming.” Takamäki couldn’t bring himself to care.

VCU Chief Karila came into the room and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Have you looked at Ilta-Sanomat’s site yet? They posted the pics already. Kulta pointing a gun at the gangsters.”

“I haven’t looked,” said Takamäki, not that he had any desire.

“What about these two Skulls?”

“In jail. Both claim they were paid to protect Lehtonen. We didn’t find any weapons in the vehicle. According to Kulta, Lehtonen says her ex set it up.”

“What about our bomber? Ahola.”

“We searched all night. Suhonen and Kulta probably raided upwards of twenty apartments with no result. Of course, it sent a message that working with Ahola right now isn’t too smart.”

Karila sipped his coffee. “This is turning into quite the farce.”

“It already is. I think Kulta said it best on the phone: ‘It’s all a downhill slide from here.’”

“What’s the situation with the Lehtonens?”

“Kohonen’s covering Laura at school. Kulta’s waiting in the lobby at Mari’s work.”

Karila paused for a while. “Skoog called.”

“Sounds ominous.”

Karila shrugged. “I don’t know. He got this idea from some psychologist that we should bring Mari into prison to meet Korpi. That way he could see that the target of his hate is just an ordinary woman. It’s called cognitive behavioral therapy, the idea being that Korpi would learn to monitor himself by managing his emotions.”

“You’re telling me a psychologist recommended this? Have you read Korpi’s psychological assessment? It says right there the man is incapable

of empathy. I think by definition that rules out any sort of mediation.”

“I don’t know. Might be something to it,” said Karila. Obviously, he had made his decision. All he wanted now was to get Takamäki on board. “Skoog says we’re moving more toward mediations, where face-to-face meetings with victims can prevent repeat offenses. According to this psychologist, human interaction is the best way to resolve any crisis. The idea is for Korpi to learn to control his own violent behavior and take responsibility for it.”

“I see. And you buy into this?”

“They’ll meet in a controlled environment. Maybe Korpi will see that it was nothing personal, she was just doing her civic duty-just part of the system. That’s what he needs to understand.”

“I’m lucky if I understand it. Well, I suppose you’ll be joining them.”

Karila smiled. “Sorry. Budget meetings. Unless you have any better suggestions, it’s gonna have to be you. I’m dealing with reams of political bullshit right now. The Interior Ministry is fielding hundreds of calls and emails demanding the minister’s resignation. I hear that parliament has started three separate inquiries into the minister’s performance. And all this will trickle down to us.”

Takamäki was still looking at the headlines on TV. “Well, I guess it’s worth a try. Things couldn’t get much worse anyway. But we’ll have to arrange to get Lehtonen into the prison.”

“I already took care of it. You take Joutsamo, pick Lehtonen up from work and drive in the side gate. They’ll take you straight to the visitation room. There’ll be a couple guards for extra security.”

* * *

Rauli Salo was on his way to Korpi’s dreary cell on the northern block with his 10:30 lunch. The guards on the block didn’t mind at all that Salo had volunteered to take the gang boss his meals. A small note on the cell door read: “No contacts.”

The northern cell block, sometimes referred to as the “hazardous waste ward,” was among the most poorly maintained in the complex. All prisoners on the block were either in isolation or under protection, so the cells were under constant lock-down. To make matters worse, the cells had no running water or toilets. Buckets served as bed pans, which had infused the wing with a distinctly revolting stench.

The routine was rigid: breakfast at 7:00, lunch at 10:30, and dinner at 3:10 P.M. At some point during the day, prisoners were permitted one hour outside. That was it.

The green cell walls were dirty and dilapidated, and the cramped windows served only to complement the oppressive atmosphere.

Salo opened the cell door. Korpi sat up on his cot with a grin. “Look who’s here, room service. What’s it gonna be today?”