"Barry Allen," Detective Eddie Thawne says with an exasperated sigh as he walks into the computer lab, steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand and a look on his face like he's got half a mind to throw it at me,
"You have got to be the slowest man alive."If there was a camera nearby, this is where I'd look at it with a knowing grin and wink. But even if he understood the dramatic irony of what he just said, I doubt Thawne would be in any mood to appreciate it.
"You've been sitting on that fingerprint for a week, Allen," he says with annoyance.
"I know, I know," I say sheepishly.
"Captain West wanted a decision on whether it's a match for Garcia three days ago.""I know....I know....""So is it?""I.....don't know," I answer, shrinking in on myself as I slump forward at my computer desk.
They've got me looking at latent ridgeline prints-- fingerprints if you're a layperson-- left behind at the scene of a recent double homicide. The victim was a suspected narcotics dealer named Ricardo Nuñez and his girlfriend Sofia Lawson. Right now the primary suspect is a man named Frankie Garcia, leader of a local branch of the larger Escabedo Cartel. CCPD has been dying for enough evidence to make their move and take him down. And a partial fingerprint found at Nuñez's house the night of the shooting has several characteristics that seem to match the contours of Garcia's right ring finger.
Open and shut case, Garcia took out Nuñez to get rid of the competition, right? Well, about that....
"You don't know?" Eddie asks, incredulously.
"It's your job to know, Barry. That's the whole reason we have you and the rest of the geek squad back here.""It's....it's not that simple," I start, already knowing I'm fighting a lost battle, because I've had this conversation every day this week.
The thing about the forensic sciences is that everyone seems to think that they work the way they do on TV. If something's a match, then that's clear-cut, 100% foolproof evidence that our suspect did it. But the truth is, it's not that simple. You almost never get a full print, especially not one clean enough to say "yes sir, that's an exact match"-- though that certainly doesn't stop prosecution attorneys from doing just that at trial. This sort of work is muddy, and unclear, and takes forever. You have to make as informed a decision as you can, and pray that you're right.
"It's like I told the Captain," I explain, pulling up a pair of side-by-side prints, one the partial print found at the crime scene, the other Garcia's prints in our database,
"The partial print has enough similar qualities with Garcia's prints that I'd say there's about an 85% to 90% chance that it's a match.""Okay, so--""Buuuuut," I cut him off so he doesn't talk all over me,
"There's also another potential match. Sofia's ex-husband Dennis Clay has loop patterns on his left pinkie finger that share similar qualities with the partial print. I'd say there's a good 60% to 70% chance that the print matches his as well.""So it's less than the chance that it's Garcia's," Thawne concludes.
"Yes, but--""So what's the hold-up?""I-it--it's still within the margin of error," I start to stammer.
"I st-still need to clean up the crime scene print more to make the call. And I don't want to shape the facts just to get the answer you want.""Seriously?" Eddie scoffs,
"Like Garcia's some saint, you can't believe he'd do this?""That's not the point," I answer, my hackles starting to raise a bit.
"You're looking at this from the perspective of crime and punishment- bad guys that need taking down. I'm looking at this as a question in need of an answer. Because I want to make sure that we take down the right bad guy! Or a completely different bad guy that we don't even know about yet! Because the whole point of what I'm doing here is making sure we don't put people in jail for things they didn't do!"I didn't even realize I had been raising my voice until it cracks. I didn't even realize I'd been standing up until I'm right in Eddie Thawne's face. I didn't even realize my hands were balled up into fists until I feel them shaking.
There's a long, uncomfortable silence in the room, before Eddie takes a step back, his hands up in mock surrender.
"Okay, hey, I get it," he concedes.
"We're all on the same side here, Barry. I read your file, and I get where you're coming from. I get that sometimes things aren't as simple as they seem."He takes a long sip of his coffee, not taking his eyes off me.
"Sometimes, though, things really are that simple," he continues.
"It's easy to overthink something, see twists that aren't there. Like you said, we don't want to shape the facts just to get the answer we want."The dig is subtle-- at least by his standards-- but it's definitely there. I glare at him, not sure if I want to say something to his face, report him to Captain West, or just break his nose.
It'd be so easy, too. He'd literally never see it coming. I could break his nose, pants him, replace his coffee with water from the urinal, and pick him up and drop him off in the middle of a cornfield a hundred miles from here before he's done blinking. And everyone would think he's crazy-- and maybe it'd serve him right. See how
he likes it.
But, y'know, petty violence is definitely more of a villain thing than a hero thing, even if Eddie's a prick. And using my powers to protect people includes people I happen to think are pricks.
So I unclench my fists, swallow my pride, and shrink back down into myself.
Eddie takes another sip of his coffee, before turning to leave.
"We're moving forward with a warrant on Garcia," Thawne remarks as he walks out the door.
"Half the department's champing at the bit to finally put that rat bastard away. You wanna speed up the process, Barry? Our do you wanna slow us all down?"As the door starts to close behind him, I stare holes in the back of his head. It's a really good thing I don't have heat vision.
Sitting back down at my desk, I look at the partial print from the crime scene. Then at Garcia's fingerprint. Then at Clay's. And back to the partial print again. Back and forth.
Is Thawne right? Am I making this more complicated than it needs to be? The evidence definitely
leans toward Garcia.
But my gut's saying something else is going on here.
But the whole point of science is that you
don't go with your gut, you go with the evidence.
But it's still within the margin of error, which means the CCPD could be going after the wrong guy.
But Clay's print is even further in the margin of error, meaning there's an even bigger chance it's not him.
But--
"Heyyy, Barry?" A voice chimes in on the earbud I keep in my right ear, ostensibly because "music really helps me focus," but actually because it's a tight-beam laser receiver that allows for wireless communication without the chance of people listening in.
"You, uh, you got a minute?"On the other end of the line is Cisco Ramon, one of the mechanical engineers at S.T.A.R. Labs, and Dr. Wells' right hand guy.
"I'm here, what's up?" I answer, keeping my voice down. Even though I'm by myself in the computer lab, I don't need people overhearing me while passing by.
"Well, we're picking up a pretty massive storm cell brewing over the downtown financial district," Cisco continues,
"And some pretty significant thermal fluctuations of intense heat and cold. And there's reports of, ummm....boomerangs."A big stupid grin starts to spread across my face.
"Oh-ho-ho, man, Cisco," I chuckle as I start fidgeting with the ring on my right hand,
"Thanks for the good news.""How could the Rogues being back in town possibly be good news?""Because," I explain, popping open the hidden compartment on the ring,
"I'm having a bad day....""....and I really feel like breaking someone's nose right now."Sometimes things really are as simple as they seem. And, well, the Rogues are about simple as they get.
Hound55,
Cyberlad,
Half Pint,
mickilennial,
Ezekiel,
Master Bruce,
PrinceAlexus,
Pilatus,
Chronic,
MST3K 4ever
