Page 10 of Dead Air
BARTENDER:She was here from about 6:30 till maybe 10:30, 11:00. Had several whiskeys. Seemed upset aboutsomething. Checking her phone a lot. Left in a hurry after getting some kind of message.
LEAH:Multiple witnesses confirm Detective Lawson consumed alcohol in the hours before meeting her partner at the warehouse—a detail never mentioned in her official statement or the subsequent investigation.
LEAH:When asked about this discrepancy, Detective Lawson abruptly ended our interview. Her final statement was telling:
[Audio clip from interview]LAWSON:You weren't there. You don't know what happened that night.
[Brief pause]
LEAH:I don't know what happened that night. But I do know the official investigation contains significant inconsistencies. I know evidence disappeared. I know the Rafferty case Detective Landry was working on was suddenly abandoned after her death.
LEAH:And I know Detective Erin Lawson carries information she hasn't shared, information that might explain why her partner was murdered and why no one has been held accountable.
[Music softens]
LEAH:This isn't just about exposing failures in an investigation. It's about understanding the complex relationship between two detectives and how that relationship might have influenced the events of that night.
LEAH:In our next episode, we'll explore another relationship in Detective Landry's life—one that adds yet another layer of complexity to this case. Detective Ray Hutchinson of the Narcotics Division claims he and Monica Landry were romantically involved in the months before her death. His story contradicts much of what we've been told about Monica's final days.
[Music builds]
LEAH:This is Dead Air. The truth doesn't stay buried forever.
[Theme music plays out]
chapter
four
Five YearsAgo
Monica's bare feet whispered across Lawson's hardwood floor. Window to couch. Couch to window. Endless pacing while two coffee mugs grew cold on the counter.
"I'm done hiding." Monica stopped at the window. Afternoon sun turned her dark hair copper at the edges. "Tired of pretending we're just partners. Tired of lying to everyone at work."
Lawson wore yesterday's jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt. The apartment smelled like weekend—coffee grounds scattered around the sink, Monica's body wash ghosting out from the bathroom. Evidence of their time together that suddenly felt incriminating.
"You know how the department works."
"I know how you think it works." Monica spun from the window. Those brown eyes carried the same stubborn fire that cracked suspects during interrogations. "Tell me one person who got fired for being gay. One."
"Richardson barely tolerates having women on the force."
"Richardson tolerates whoever brings in arrests and keeps his clearance rates up. He doesn't care what we do off the clock."
Lawson needed distance. She grabbed one of the mugs from the counter—still warm, bitter as motor oil the way Monica liked it.
"Gossip travels fast in the department."
"So let it travel." Monica followed her into the tiny kitchen. "I'd rather deal with whispers than pretend you don't matter when other people are watching."
The mug slipped in Lawson's hands. She caught it, set it down harder than necessary. Her knuckles went white against the fake granite.
"You think I don't care?"
"I think you care more about your reputation." Monica moved closer, bringing warmth and the faint scent of her perfume. "This is about holding hands at the department barbecue. Not pretending you're just my work friend."
"We agreed to keep quiet."
