(no subject)
Let's talk about betrayal, shall we?
Let's assume that you're a cop. You’ve been praised; you've been decorated; you've been hailed as the best young cop in the division. Okay, so you're a little rough at times, a little violent - even for downtown eastside Vancouver. You're inclined to mete out rough justice when you think you will, and you have been known to fuck your informants, but you're honest. Kinda.
You're the kind of guy that puts his job first - everything you do is for the uniform, for the force, for your partners and for your unit. You love it - love belonging, love being a part of the law enforcement, part of the extended family that is your squad.
Let's imagine that your record for collars is exemplary, and you've just been transferred from Vice to Narcotics division, because the powers that be feel that your skills will beef up a department that isn't really coming to grips with the growing drug problem in the downtown core.
So you get in there and put yourself to work. You start to deal with the dealers, fake out the fakers, and you get yourself a partner who you trust with your back.
And then, let's say you go into work the day after you've busted one of the dealers on your patch, and they're all talking but they stop as soon as you come into the room, and there're police investigators there, and they open your locker, take out the white powder and hold it up and ask you if this is your locker.
And all you can do is shout, "You set me up!" as they take you away.
And then, the bars clang shut, and you've got time.
Nothing but time.
That, my friends, is betrayal.
Let's assume that you're a cop. You’ve been praised; you've been decorated; you've been hailed as the best young cop in the division. Okay, so you're a little rough at times, a little violent - even for downtown eastside Vancouver. You're inclined to mete out rough justice when you think you will, and you have been known to fuck your informants, but you're honest. Kinda.
You're the kind of guy that puts his job first - everything you do is for the uniform, for the force, for your partners and for your unit. You love it - love belonging, love being a part of the law enforcement, part of the extended family that is your squad.
Let's imagine that your record for collars is exemplary, and you've just been transferred from Vice to Narcotics division, because the powers that be feel that your skills will beef up a department that isn't really coming to grips with the growing drug problem in the downtown core.
So you get in there and put yourself to work. You start to deal with the dealers, fake out the fakers, and you get yourself a partner who you trust with your back.
And then, let's say you go into work the day after you've busted one of the dealers on your patch, and they're all talking but they stop as soon as you come into the room, and there're police investigators there, and they open your locker, take out the white powder and hold it up and ask you if this is your locker.
And all you can do is shout, "You set me up!" as they take you away.
And then, the bars clang shut, and you've got time.
Nothing but time.
That, my friends, is betrayal.