Ian shrugged. “I told Becker that’s on me. I never vetted Brodie. I thought when someone transferred, they did that already. It’s not fair that we gave that kid a punk for a partner and then ask him to bear the brunt of that.”
“And Kage agreed with you?”
He winced. “Kage took Becker’s recommendation, and Becker agreed that it wasn’t fair but not that it was my fault. Thing is, though, I’ve been so focused on the external concerns—all the interagency crap—that I forgot I’ve gotta manage the team too.”
“Yeah, but Becker’s supposed to help with that.”
“And he does, but he’s knee-deep in his own shit as well.”
“Okay,” I said, exhaling, because our day had been a long one and it wasn’t even time for lunch yet. “Kage mentioned that Rodriguez is going to be retrained for two months.”
“Yeah,” Ian said and then grinned evilly as he added, “He’s going back to Glynco for all of it before he’s reassigned.”
“That’s horrible.” I was truly sympathetic.
“C’mon.” Ian made a face like I was nuts. “It’s nothing.”
I could still remember my own training in Glynco, Georgia, all those years ago. The Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, or FLETC, was a place I never wanted to return to. I still had nightmares every now and then that I was studying and beads of sweat were falling from the end of my nose. It was hot and humid, and I’d been eaten alive by mosquitos. Plus, the battery of fitness instruction had been brutal.
“At least he doesn’t have to go for the whole nineteen weeks,” I offered, again remembering the horrors of that experience.
“Why?” Ian asked, squinting at me. “It was fine.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was, Mr. Green Beret, but it wasn’t great for the rest of us.”
“Hey,” Shawn said suddenly, removing one of his AirPods. “Do you think I could get some real food and not just the fruit? I’m not normally this hungry ’cause of the coke, but I’ve got the munchies today.”
Ian and I both looked at him.
“What?” Ian said.
“Seriously”—I turned to Ian—“Brodie’s lucky he’s not dead.”
“How about a breakfast burrito,” Ian suggested to the kid. “I know just the place.”
“Okay,” Shawn said enthusiastically. “Do you think we can drive through a dispensary while we’re out?”
Was he kidding?
“What? I need edibles to sleep. I told the other guys.”
“And what happens when you’re moved to a state where pot isn’t legal?” Ian asked him. “You might want to start thinking about alternatives.”
“Huh,” he said. “Can we get ice cream while we’re out?”
“Sure,” I told him, gesturing him toward me. “I’ll get you ice cream.”
Ian was scowling.
Shawn got up and walked over to me. “Is he mad?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I assured him, putting my arm around his shoulders. “Don’t look at him, look at me.”
And he followed direction.
I talkedto Miro because he was the one with all the contacts in different areas of the country, and he moved Shawn to Colorado, which was perfect for his marijuana needs. He also made notes that Shawn’s cocaine habit had not changed since entering WITSEC, and so his first stop would need to be rehab. It was yet another blemish on Brodie and Rodriguez that they had allowed a witness to continue with a drug habit. That was one of the top factors that contributed to witness failure. As a rule, we didn’t lose witnesses; they made decisions and tripped themselves up. Everything from contacting relatives, to continuing with old addictions like alcohol and drugs, to a social media presence or trying to retain the lifestyle they were used to. I always wondered about the brain cells being used when people screwed up.
Once the marshals from Denver showed up to take custody of Shawn—it was always done same day when a witness was compromised—we handed him off to the agents, who were listening to him and were engaged. I hoped he got cleaned up and made something of himself.