This collection of fictional storytelling is inspired by true events.  You will read, in chronological order, a short tale about every single LAPD officer killed in the line-of-duty.  Many of the scenes, dialogue and character portrayals were creatively designed in order to best represent the known historical facts of the time.  In some cases, we were able to include factual first-hand accounts from people who knew these officers best

Story 1: Fallen Marshal William Warren, 1870

Chapter 1: The Trial of the Chinese Prostitute

Ocotber 31st 1870 10:30 AM Criminal Court of Justice Trafford Temple Street and Main Street

“Without my tracking skills, Your Honor, Marshal Warren would have never brought the China-Woman to justi-”

“You are my subordinate, lest you forget, Deputy Dye?” Marshal Warren interrupts.  “Besides, how can any self-respecting horse thief catcher claim success while heavy wet most of the day from the malt in his liquor?”

“Tread cautious with your words, Marshal.  Telling of such a thumper in the presence of Justice Trafford is cause for contempt.” Deputy Dye keeps his head still as his eyes dart towards Justice Trafford. 

“I will be the one making that decision, Deputy Dye.” Trafford takes a deep breath as he takes a long slow look at the Marshal and his deputy. 

Marshal Warren attempts one last plea.  “Your Honor.  We have been an established police department for the city of Los Angeles two months shy of A year now.  While it is true that I myself appointed Joe Dye as one of my first 6 deputies, and while it is true we both captured the China-woman, this reward money will be much better spent for the growth of our police force.”

I was given a meager $50 to furnish our headquarters.  The $25 stipend for rent is hardly enough to maintain a working office for a population that has grown to over 5,600 inhabitants since the end of the Civil War over 5-years ago.”  Justice Trafford places his spectacles onto the desk in front of him and looks up interested in the Marshal’s words.  Somehow he found space amongst the piles of papers, quills and ink-bowls.  Marshal Warren Continues, “Allow this newly formed police department to receive the reward and you will see many more vagrants brought before your court, Your Honor.  I can promise you that. 

 “This court is on recess,” Declares Justice Trafford.  “We will return at 30-minutes past the hour with my decision on who gets the $100 for the capture and return of the China-woman.”

As the court shuffles about, the sounds of people exiting, mumbling and chairs screeching on the floor raise to a quiet roar.  Deputy Dye’s eyes squint in anger.  He knows the Marshal’s last words got the attention of Justice Trafford.  And he knows well of their relations in law enforcement when Justice Trafford was the Marshal.  He looks over at Marshal Warren with an abhorrent death glare. 

Marshal Warren’s eyes catches that death glare for just a moment as he steps out of the court and into the hallway.  Several people are conversing with him but those voices slowly muffle.  Marshal Warren pauses.  His mind’s eye is thrown back in time to a wanted poster of Deputy Dye before his days as a lawman.  Back when he rode with the violent Mason Henry Gang.  When he was simply Joe Dye.  That poster of Dye that declared him a wanted man had upon it a sketch picture of him.  That picture carried the same abhorrent death glare he caught just before walking out of the court room. 

The social conversing that had muffled a few moments earlier warped back into an audible level. 

“Marshal, are you ok?” asked the man in a top hat and long coat. 

Marshal Warren realized he was staring into space and quickly shook it off.  “I’m oll korrect, Abner” he assured his friend as he smiled and brought his pipe to his lips.  With two quick puffs he looked up at the criminal courthouse and once again found himself thinking of his Deputy’s eyes and that abhorrent death glare.

Oh, that abhorrent death glare.