Detective Nikki Evelyn Armstrong, a decorated member of the United States Navy and the New York City Police Department, stood at the site of the freshly dug grave surrounded by its moist piles of dirt. She reflected on what most thought to be a promising career.

In that moment of reflection, Nikki was in the second week of working on her new IAB case. Three months had passed since the “Shaker” case was taken down, and much of the press attention had died down. Most of her time was spent working with the U.S. Attorney, preparing the case for prosecution. The mayor of New York City, both U.S. senators for the state of New York and the U.S. attorney for the Southern and Eastern Districts for New York, also recognized her for her role in the Shaker drug and sex trafficking case, which extended to both jurisdictions.

Nikki received no less than six awards from community organizations for her efforts in getting drugs out of the community. She had been promoted to detective second grade and had received another commendation from an increasingly bitter commissioner. She also received recognition from the U.S. Navy for her work in capturing drug smugglers, drug dealers, gunrunners, and sex traffickers. Her press puppy had written several front-page pieces about Nikki and her career that went international. The commissioner was still hoping that she would just go away.

Her new case involved allegations of officers ripping off drug dealers just outside of her old precinct. She knew the area well. She had heard rumors of this activity just before being transferred to the IAB. Nikki couldn’t believe that this matter hadn’t already been investigated, but she had learned to keep some of her thoughts to herself. This was one of them.

It was early on a Saturday evening when she and her partner were assigned to conduct surveillance to keep watch on two patrol officers suspected of heavy involvement in the robbery scheme.

About three hours into the surveillance, a call came over the radio of a possible domestic violence situation at an address Nikki knew all too well. It was the apartment of the beefy woman and her kids. She had first encountered this family during her first week out of the academy.

Nikki was fully aware that this was a matter for officers on patrol; however, the address was only three blocks from where they were set up. She knew from her prior experience that the beefy woman was beating one or more of those children.

She turned to her partner. “We have to respond.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he said. “We are on a sensitive surveillance. Let the uniforms handle this.”