Hubert B. Tyman

MANHATTAN – Earlier this evening, a precinct detective took time out of his busy week solving petit larcenies to really tell patrol how he feels, sources confirmed.

The member, Detective Sal Vecchio, spoke with us during one of his multiple 30-minute vaping sessions. “Look, patrol needs to cool it. We’re detectives. The finest detectives. I don’t have time to debrief complainants close to end of tour,” said Vecchio, who is often seen asking patrol to “do him a solid” by conducting a variety of routine tasks he feels he is too good for.

“Guys don’t respect us like they used to,” said Vecchio, who doesn’t even have 20 years on the job, but identifies as someone with 25. “Back when I came on, the door to the squad was always closed. You were only allowed in if you had a pinky ring or were delivering food,” he added, confirming that he always assumes knocks on the door are anything other than fellow members of the service requesting help.

“I don’t even get where patrol guys get the nerve to knock on our door after 2330. It’s a matter of respect,” he said, before asking the desk officer if he could lodge his perp downstairs overnight so he could get some sleep. “Back when I came on in the early 2000s, if we looked at a detective the wrong way, or even crossed paths in the stationhouse, our locker would be flipped. The job is dead.”

“I got a full load of cases that I need to get to not solving, and that takes beauty rest,” said Vecchio, as he exhaled his Blueberry Juul for the umpteenth time outside of the command while saying “In the squad…” as both a preface and conclusion to his every sentence, mostly about the turnaround.

Patrol sources we spoke with confirmed Vecchio’s attitude but understood where he was coming from. “I’ve been on patrol for 20 years, and I’ve done it all,” said Police Officer Parkinson. “But if I have one regret on this job, it’s asking Vecchio to do more than the bare minimum.”

He added, “I never really knew how overworked he was, and it wasn’t fair for me to do my job by expecting him to do his. I’ll never forgive myself for that,” said Parkinson, wiping a lone tear of regret from his cheek.

In a shocking twist of events, the Vecchio was later seen locking the door to the squad room at 2350 to account for wash-up time. “Sure, it’s not in the contract, but it should be,” said Vecchio, as he glossed over his pending collars by appointment for the next day.

“I wonder if the sectors can help me pick these guys up. We have to look out for each other, you know?”

— Reporting by Hubert B. Tyman —