Jens Lapidus - Never Fuck Up

“Want coffee?”

Thomas declined. Remained seated. Hägerström disappeared out of the room.

Thomas’s thoughts drifted off. He yearned to be somewhere else. He thought about his shooting club. His Infinity gun, his other guns, the powerful focus he felt when he stood with the ear guards on and fired off ten straight 9-millimeter rounds right in the mug of the paper cutout. He could say it without shame: he was one of the Stockholm police force’s best shots.

Hägerström came back into the room again. Seemed to want to make small talk for a while.

“You know, you patrol officers are underrated. I often think your first impressions are important. I mean, we usually nail most of the heavy perps through investigations. All the information we collect lets me sit here in my chamber, tie up the loose ends, and get them prosecuted. You know, from my desk. But we need input from the street, from reality. From you.”

Thomas just nodded.

“I’ve got ideas for new ways of collaboration. The desk people together with the guys who are really out there. Detectives and patrol officers. You’d set up teams with both. There’s so much knowledge that’s lost today.”

“Are we done here? Can I go?”

“No, not yet. I want to discuss one final thing with you.”

Thomas sighed.

Hägerström kept going. “We usually talk about different types of violent criminals. I’m sure you remember that from the Police Academy. The professional criminals and the psychologically disturbed. For example, the professional criminals can plan well, are manipulative, and sometimes have psychotic tendencies. Often they are relatively intelligent—at least we’d call them street-smart. The psychologically disturbed, on the other hand, are usually lone wolves. Many have had problems or experienced some sort of trauma growing up. They can live for many years without committing any crime, but then something cracks and they commit some aggravated sexual or violent assault. The thing is that their deeds are different. They move in different fields, commit different kinds of shit. Completely different types of murders. The professional criminals—economically motivated criminals—often kill swiftly and cleanly, leave their victims where they can’t be tied to the crime, and don’t make any unnecessary bloody business out of the whole thing. The psychologically sick have different motives. It can be sexually related, it can be a real mess, they often go after people in their direct vicinity, or hurt many people at once. They might leave their victims as if they want them to be found, like a message to their surroundings. Or a call for help. Considering the nature of this murder, I’m sure you can already guess what my question is. Spontaneously, what’s your view of this murder—professional criminal or psycho?”

The question came as a surprise. For some strange reason, Thomas felt honored—this paper-pushing detective valued his version of things, his opinion and intuition. He rejected the thought. The dude was sucking up. He answered appropriately—which is to say, rudely.

“I mean, he didn’t exactly look happy, so it was probably pretty painful.”

Hägerström didn’t get the joke.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he didn’t look happy, he had a strange facial expression. Bloody, might be the right word.”

Their eyes locked again. Neither lowered their gaze.

“Andrén, I don’t appreciate your kind of humor. Just answer the question, please.”

“Didn’t I just do that? Considering how damn bloody that basement was, it must’ve been a real psycho freak who made the hit.”

Thirty seconds of silence—a long time between two men who didn’t know each other.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to leave soon. I just have one more question. What is your spontaneous, preliminary opinion about the cause of death?”

No point in making a fuss. If he did, the detective might keep him there even longer just to fuck with him. He offered his honest view: “I really don’t know. The dead guy had deep track marks on his arm, so it could’ve been an overdose that did him in, in addition to the assault.”

Hägerström’s mouth fell open, looked honestly surprised for a brief moment. Caught himself. Flipped back to throwing his weight around. “Didn’t I say I didn’t like your kind of humor?”

It was Thomas’s turn to look surprised. What did the guy mean? It wasn’t a joke.

“Hägerström, I’m gonna be honest now. I don’t like people from Internal Affairs. I think we should stick together and not spend time ruining the lives of good professionals. But I want to be accommodating and answer your questions, just so I can get out of here. The problem is that, right now, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? I mean I want you to answer my question. What is your spontaneous, preliminary opinion about the cause of death? No fucking track marks, please.”

“Like I said, I don’t know. It was probably the assault, but it could’ve been an overdose, too. Considering the track marks. ”

Hägerström leaned forward. Articulated, “There were no track marks or needle wounds. The corpse was completely free of that kind of injury.”

Silence again. Both were evaluating the situation. Their faces: less than three feet away from each other.

Finally, Thomas said, “Sounds like you didn’t read my report. The corpse’s right arm looked like a sieve. If he or someone else pumped drugs into all those holes, he could just as well have caught a chill from an overdose. Do you understand?”

Hägerström rummaged among the papers on his desk. Picked one up; it was Thomas’s report. The detective handed it over. Half a page. Terse sentences that he recognized. But there was something wrong about the end. There were words missing. Had he forgotten to save the last lines? Had his problems with the damn keyboard made parts of the text disappear, or had someone else deleted it?

He shook his head. Not a word about the needle wounds in the report.

Thomas looked up from the report.

“This is bullshit.”

The National Board of Forensic Medicine, June 4

The Department of Forensic Medicine

Retzius Road 5

171 65 SOLNA

E 07-073, K 58599-07

A. Introduction

In accordance with an order from the Stockholm County Police Department, an expanded forensic autopsy has been performed on an unknown body, found on June 3 at 10 Gösta Ekman Road in Stockholm, referred to below as “X.”

The investigation was carried out by the undersigned at the Department of Forensic Medicine in Stockholm in the presence of the autopsy technician Christian Nilsson.

The body has, according to the Stockholm County Police Department, not yet been positively identified. However, the following can initially be stated:

1. X is a man;

2. X is Caucasian;

3. X is between 45 and 55 years old; and

4. X died between 2100 and 2400 hours on June 2.

B. Additional Circumstances

The additional circumstances of the situation in question are made apparent by a primary report from the Stockholm County Police Department, registration number K 58599-07, signed by Martin Hägerström, Det. Insp.

C. External Examination

1. The dead body is 73 inches long and weighs 174 pounds.

2. General rigor mortis persists.

3. There are extensive and deep surface tissue wounds on the face, on the temples, and on the throat.

4. The hair on the head is ca. 4 inches long and blond, somewhat graying around the temples. There is dried blood in the hair.

5. The skin on the right temple has been scraped off within a 4x4-inch area.