Rogers rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s a long story. I have to start at the beginning.” He began to pace the narrow strip of tile on the other side of the kitchen island. “About two and a half years ago, I was on patrol. Oscar was out that night too. I backed up him and another deputy, Brian Dylan, on a traffic stop. You know how it is—you pull somebody over in the middle of the night, you want someone to have your back. It was a ways out of town on Route 57, out past the tractor supply store.” He pivoted. “When I got there, Oscar was at the driver’s-side door looking at the driver’s documents. There were no passengers, just a lone driver. Oscar asked the driver if he’d been drinking. The guy said no. Then Oscar asked him to step out of the vehicle.” Rogers stopped for a breath.
Matt didn’t move for fear of breaking Rogers’s flow.
“The driver’s name was Kenny McPherson. Big guy. Said he was on his way home from work as a warehouse forklift driver. He seemed normal, maybe a little nervous, but nothing out of the ordinary. Most folks are a little spooked when they’re pulled over. Oscar put him through a road sobriety test and said he was wobbly. I didn’t see it. The guy looked steady to me. That’s when I started to get a little uncomfortable.” Rogers rubbed a hand over his mouth.
Without moving his head, Matt looked sideways at Bree. She was rock still, almost as if holding her breath.
Rogers rubbed his jaw and continued. “Dylan asked McPherson if he could look in his car, and the guy said yes.”
Most people did because they saw no reason not to. They didn’t expect cops to break the law. Mostly, criminals knew to say no.
Rogers continued. “So Oscar asked me to keep an eye on the guy while he and Dylan did a quick search of the vehicle. Dylan shines his light under the driver’s seat and comes out with a baggie full of pills. McPherson freaks out, yelling, ‘Those aren’t mine,’ but Dylan just gives him that nasty smirk of his. He and Oscar were practically laughing by this point.”
Matt could picture it all too well.
Rogers’s gaze became vacant, as if he were seeing the scene. “Dylan brought the pills to the guy, shakes the bag in front of his face, and starts listing all the charges he’s facing. McPherson yelled back, saying Oscar and Dylan were setting him up. Then Oscar stumbled backward a step and accuses the guy of pushing him. Dylan starts yelling that McPherson assaulted an officer. They throw the guy over the hood of his car and handcuff him. The guy was raging as they put him in the back of the patrol car. He knew they were fucking him over.” Rogers stopped pacing and faced Matt. “I pulled Dylan aside and told him I hadn’t seen the guy do anything. I asked him point-blank if he’d planted the drugs. He said no, but I could tell he was lying. Oscar and Dylan faced off against me. My word against both of theirs.” He shifted his gaze to Bree. “Oscar was driving an old car that night. It didn’t have a dashboard cam.” Rogers stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking lost.
“What happened to McPherson?” she asked.
“They piled on the charges, and he went to prison for a couple of years. Oscar came to see me to let me know that McPherson was out. Oscar wanted to set him up for another crime. He asked if I still had any friends in the department who could take care of it.”
Bree’s back snapped straight, but she kept her tone even. “Do you?”
Rogers snorted. “No. That whole gang is gone, and I’m glad.”
“Do you know why Oscar and Dylan targeted McPherson?” To Matt, it felt like a lot of effort.
Rogers shook his head. “No. I’d say they liked to fuck with people, but this seemed personal.”
“Are you worried about McPherson?” Bree asked.
Rogers lifted a shoulder. “Whatever happens, I deserve it.”
“Could you have proven Dylan planted the drugs or Oscar faked being pushed?” Bree asked.
“No.” Rogers shook his head. “But I know both Dylan and Oscar, and why would McPherson have agreed to a vehicle search if he was carrying drugs under the seat of his car?”
He wouldn’t have.
Silence settled over the kitchen.
Rogers sighed. “If I had contradicted Oscar’s or Dylan’s statements in any way, the defense attorney would have pounced, and the DA would probably have dropped the charges.”
The local DA liked his win record and didn’t prosecute cases with questionable evidence.
“But my career would have been over.” Rogers looked at Matt. “Unlike you, I made the choice to play along. I prioritized myself and allowed them to send an innocent man to prison. But I got a call last week from a lawyer representing Kenny McPherson.”