Chapter 4 - The Internal Affairs AuditThe morning sun cast a pale, golden glow across the polished oak table inside the Chicago Fire Department’s Internal Affairs conference room on South LaSalle Street.
I sat at the center of the table, wearing a crisp black blazer over my hospital clothes, my posture rigid and unyielding. Beside me sat Captain Miller—the veteran officer who had witnessed Alex’s disgraceful dereliction of duty firsthand—and two stern-faced IA investigators, Lieutenant Vance and Sergeant Cole.
At the far end of the table sat Alex.
His uniform jacket was buttoned to the top, his posture defensive, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. Next to him sat his union representative, a burly veteran firefighter named Kowalski who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.
"Dr. Miller," Lieutenant Vance began, adjusting his reading glasses as he flipped open a thick manila folder. "We have received your formal administrative complaint, alongside the corroborating incident reports filed by Rookie Firefighter Mark Taylor and Captain Miller. We have also reviewed the dispatch logs and the medical telemetry from your emergency delivery."
Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearing his throat. "With all due respect, Lieutenant Vance, this is a domestic dispute being weaponized through departmental channels. My wife—my estranged wife—is reacting emotionally to a high-stress medical event."
"Shut up, Davis," Kowalski muttered under his breath, nudging Alex’s elbow.
"It’s not a domestic dispute, Lieutenant Vance," I spoke up, my voice calm, rhythmic, and devoid of any emotion. I slid a certified copy of the hospital chart across the table. "This is a documented case of gross negligence and willful abandonment during an active mass-casualty rescue. As a licensed emergency room nurse with eight years of trauma experience, I documented the exact timeline of oxygen deprivation and fetal distress in that elevator."
I leaned forward, locking eyes with my husband.
"At 3:15 PM, my vital signs crossed into critical territory. At 3:42 PM, my unborn child experienced severe decelerations due to hypoxia. At 4:10 PM, the rescue team breached the doors. And at 4:11 PM, Lieutenant Alex Davis actively stepped over his pregnant wife—who was exhibiting textbook signs of circulatory collapse—to rescue an individual suffering from acute hysteria and a minor skin abrasion."
Alex slammed his hand onto the table, making the coffee mugs rattle. "She was having a panic attack! Valerie was terrified, she was hyperventilating, and she had a head wound! In the heat of the moment, I made a split-second humanitarian decision as a first responder!"
"A humanitarian decision?" Captain Miller interjected, his voice booming across the conference room like thunder. He leaned forward, resting his heavy forearms on the table. "Davis, don't insult our intelligence. You didn't rescue a random civilian. You rescued your ex-fiancée—the woman you've been spending your off-hours with while your pregnant wife sat at home. Every single firefighter on that extraction team saw the look on your face. You didn't see a patient; you saw her."
"That is an unverified accusation—" Alex stammered, his face turning a furious shade of crimson.
"Is it?" Lieutenant Vance interrupted smoothly. He reached into the manila folder and pulled out a stack of printed photographs. He tossed them onto the table in front of Alex.
The photos showed Alex and Valerie standing outside a coffee shop three weeks prior, laughing, their arms brushing against each other. Another photo showed Alex’s department pickup truck parked outside Valerie’s apartment complex at 11:45 PM on a Tuesday night—while I was home resting for an ultrasound appointment the next morning.
Alex stared at the photographs, the color completely draining from his face. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
"Lieutenant Davis," Vance said coldly, closing the file folder with a sharp snap. "The Chicago Fire Department holds its officers to the highest standard of ethical conduct, objective triage, and public trust. Prioritizing a personal acquaintance over a critical civilian patient—let alone your own immediate family—is grounds for immediate suspension pending a full disciplinary tribunal."
Kowalski, the union rep, slowly closed his notebook and looked at Alex with profound disappointment. "Kid... I can't save you on this one. You dug your own grave."
Alex slowly turned his head to look at me, his eyes wide with genuine terror. "Lucy... please. Don't do this to us. Think of our family. Think of our baby."
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I stood up slowly from my chair, buttoning my blazer, my expression as cold as winter ice.
"My daughter is fighting for her life in the NICU right now, Alex," I said softly, looking down at him with absolute contempt. "And she survived because strangers did the job you were supposed to do. Our family ended the moment you stepped over me. Enjoy your suspension, Lieutenant. Because by the time the tribunal is finished with you, you won't just be losing your badge—you’ll be losing everything else, too."
