BTHB: Make an Example of Them
BTHB: Make an Example of Them
NCIS: Los Angeles
@badthingshappenbingo
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A/N: This takes place during episodes 12x07 "Overdue" through 12x09 "A Fait Accompli."
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December 2020- Brunswick, Georgia
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
Ex- NCIS Supervisory Special Agent and FLETC Trainer Benjamin Lowe pulls off his glasses in disbelief at the cadet file that sits at the top of the pile on his desk. He briefly rubs his eyes as he sits at the mahogany desk in his study, hoping that the name of the cadet and more importantly, that the operations manager and office of origin listed is either a mistake or his imagination.
Applicant Office: NCIS- Southwest: Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles
Operations Manager: Admiral Hollace Kilbride/ Henrietta Lange:
Applicant Name: Deeks, Martin Atticus
What in the absolute hell? One of Hetty’s little pet projects got into FLETC?
Lowe leans back in the chair and pulls the file into his lap. Henrietta Lange is a name he hasn’t heard a lot since retiring from NCIS and opting to teach at FLETC. He’s found it to be a gift, not having to deal with the woman who’d damn near got him killed in 1998 during an investigation in Djibouti and interrupted four of his investigations during the last fourteen years with her little team back in Los Angeles.
And that little pet project- the motor mouth had rambled incessantly during every bloody investigation. When Lowe opens the file and sees the blue eyes, the cocky smirk and the messy blonde hair of Marty Deeks, he remembers his eye twitching during the last investigation while thinking- someone needs to chop off your damn hair.
Lowe’s eyes flicker over to the man’s age and he’s immediately tempted to break open the twenty-six year old scotch sitting in his bookshelf at the obvious gap between the cut off age and Deeks’ age.
“What kind of strings did that little psychopath pull to get you in?” Lowe mutters as he scans the recommendations from LAPD and various members of the Navy, Marines and even Interpol. “Blackmail? Money? Because my God- I’m not wasting time on-”
Reason for termination- Liaison position cut; budget cuts at LAPD
A small smile grows on Lowe’s face at the line at the bottom of the first page. “You sound like a desperate man in need of a job, Detective.”
He flips the page and scans the first two paragraphs of the interview that had taken place a week prior. Nothing stands out at him- nothing screams out at him to give him answers to the question he needs.
How did you get into FLETC- no, how did Henrietta get you in?
Lowe glances over to the remaining pages in the file and decides to shut the case and exhale. He replays the last time he’d crossed paths with Henrietta and her merry band of agents.
“You screwed me, Lange. This is my-”
“Walk it off, Lowe. This investigation is mine."
He huffs in frustration again and makes his decision- Alright, Marty Deeks. You are going to be the shining example of what a FLETC and more importantly, a federal agent shouldn't ever look like.
Lowe glances back over to the scotch and sighs, thinking- And I’m going to make sure everyone knows that everything and everyone Hetty touches is poison.
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Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, Glynco- Brunswick, Georgia- January 2021
"So you're doing Advanced Interviewing? Cool, cool, cool- look, Deeks- there's something you need to know."
Fatima's warning, coming in the form of a nervous, rambling phone call, brings just fabulous news.
Marty Deeks winces as he gingerly walks behind a group of cadets walking to classroom 226. He inhales and exhales every few steps as he fights off the pain from his sprained ribs and shoulder strain from an overzealous cadet during sparring.
And now, Deeks thinks as he pauses in front of the classroom, I'm about to be taught by someone who hates me and Hetty. Great.
Deeks pushes the classroom door open and finds the room to have four rows of three desks each, all facing a broad shouldered older man writing something on the board. Deeks slides into the closest available seat in the back row.
“Sit down,” Lowe grumbles. He continues to write out the full class name- Advanced Interviewing for Law Enforcement Investigators- on the board as he continues, “I only have you lot for five days and there is a hell of a lot to cover.”
And hopefully you don’t spend half of that picking on me, Deeks thinks. He quickly glances over to the other cadets, recognizing the arrogant ex- soldier mirroring Sam in his early days, the ex- FBI agent going through retraining and two cadets that could be twins scattered around in random desks throughout the room.
“So, let’s begin,” Lowe states. He steps towards the first row of desks and he begins to scan the group of students. “You all already have the basics for interviewing victims, witnesses and suspects but now we’re going to refine it with more techniques, more opportunities to practice those techniques and-”
Lowe stops just as his eyes fall on Deeks. The ex-detective looks down to his desk and waits for the impending comment.
Briefly, after a few seconds pass, he has hope that Lowe will be professional.
But of course, Lowe doesn’t.
“But before we start,” Lowe says with a grin. He walks around the furthest corner desk and towards Deeks. “We have a unique case as a cadet here. A police detective who got in over the age limit."
Goddamn it, Deeks thinks. He sneaks a glance over to another cadet- Jameson or Johnson if he can remember correctly- who eyes him suspiciously. Lowe stops in front of Deeks’ desk and smiles down at him as if looking at a child. “Ladies and gentleman, I’ve worked with this man and he thinks everything is a goddamn joke.”
“Knew something was off,” the ex-soldier mutters under his breath.
Deeks shakes his head and looks back up to Lowe. “It was a pleasure each time,” he replies through gritted teeth.
“There’s that sense of humor,” Lowe counters and turns on his feet. “So let’s start this class with you all learning on what not to do when interviewing. Learn from someone who shouldn’t be here, by any means.”
“And how is that…..sir?”
Lowe pulls out a chair from an empty desk and turns it towards the class. “By answering a few questions. Sharing your own experience as a ‘liason’. Let’s go.”
This can’t be a thing, can it? Deeks wonders as he rises to his feet and starts walking up to Lowe, feeling every pair of eyes on him. It’s a stark reminder- a flashback- of his sixth grade teacher who had paraded him up to the front of the class to try to catch him for not paying attention.
He had been paying attention and easily vindicated.
Or the time a Lieutenant Compton had paraded him in front of officers on his first day in the undercover unit as an example of ‘lawyer turned cop wannabe’.
“Take a seat, superstar,” Lowe orders. He leans against his desk with crossed arms as Deeks sits in the chair. He opts to look straight ahead instead of on the crowd or Lowe.
He wants me to look uncomfortable. He wants to feed off of the power.
“I’ve crossed paths with you four times, Detective-” Lowe states, “and every single time, you've seen to take things as a goddamn joke. Every time . And that proves that you've skated through this job without a scratch."
He’s underestimating me. Just like so many others have. Deeks shifts in his seat but keeps his eyes glued on the door. "I disagree…sir."
"Really now?" Lowe challenges. He kneels on Deeks' left side and scoffs, "What's the worst thing you've seen on the job?"
Deeks can’t tell what shocks him more- the unprofessionalism or the questions in itself. Even in the sessions with Nate and the NCIS psychologist Kilbride had required the team to go to a few months after his arrival, no’s ever asked that question.
So Deeks opts for the only thing he can think of. “No.”
"Excuse me?"
“I’m not- I can’t answer that,” Deeks replies, “Your question is leading. Law enforcement officers are usually asked questions like that in therapy or intimate moments. My instinct with a question like that is to recall cases that were traumatic to me physically and or emotionally. So-"
"You got here on special treatment, " Lowe sneers. "What could possibly qualify-”
"You haven’t- Fine." Deeks leans forward and cups his hands together. "You need a cognitive restatement when doing a cognitive interview- think back to such and such and tell me what you hear, see, feel. I have to pick a case first."
In the corner of his eye, he can see a few of the cadets exchange looks. "Do you want something from the years of me going undercover in the LAPD, knowing that no one cared if I lived or died? I could recall the time where after being beaten for hours, my Lieutenant threw me an ice pack and threw me on another case right after? I did that for years- it'd take me a minute to pinpoint one."
Lowe holds out a hand to stop him but the ex- detective continues, as if on autopilot. He's numb as he continues to recall every traumatic moment that comes to mind. “I could do the times I’ve gone overseas to places like Syria and Iraq and put my life on the line to protect this country?"
Behind him, Lowe mutters, "You didn't- You never-"
Deeks feels himself shaking with anger but can’t bring himself to move. Instead, he takes a breath and says as calmly as possible, “I could recall the injuries myself and my team have experienced- the helicopter that nearly killed my wife and took her leg, the TBI I had from a rocket blowing us up in Mexico?”
Deeks drops his shoulders and finally looks back to Lowe. “Or do you want to hear the time when someone took me, tied me down and drilled in my mouth! Because if you want a memory to start the conversation, I could focus on the sound of the drill or the feel of blood drying on my mouth and my neck from sitting in a room for hours after!”
“Jesus,” a cadet in the front mutters under his breath. It pulls Deeks back into reality and he lets out a shaky breath. “Most importantly, in cognitive interviewing, you do not overwhelm the person you are interviewing as it will cloud the rapport and their recall. So am I done?”
After a few moments of silence, Deeks looks up to see Lowe staring him down blankly. He’s pale and unnerved as he takes a few steps back from Deeks and rubs his chin.
“Fine. All of you can go. That’s it for the day.” Lowe mutters. He waves off and turns his away and Deeks doesn’t take another second before calmly rising from his chair and walking back towards the door. He’s the first one out of the room and takes an immediate beeline towards the closest empty classroom.
Shutting the door behind him, Deeks puts his hands on his knees and mutters, “What the hell was that?”
He slides down to the ground and feels his body continue to shake. What the hell just happened? What did I just do?
