touching her shoulder until she relented. “Was the man on the tape the instructor or an assistant?”
“Assistant,” said Hill.
“Hill performs a few takedowns with the assistant. A month after that, the assistant is assaulted here, and the security film shows Hill in place of the assailant. Definitely sounds like a setup.”
“No shit,” said Zockinski. “When did this happen?”
“Uh…” Rachel checked her notes. “July ninth.”
Hill exhaled, relieved. “That’s the day my sister got married. There’s a hundred witnesses who saw me give a toast at a botanical garden in New York.”
“This is really clever,” Santino said. He had taken her tablet and was reviewing the video. “You couldn’t swap Hill’s face over the original without having to render everything separately, and there’d always be a seam between the real and the altered. What I think they did here is take a clean shot of the background and then add the figures over it. They’d have to adjust the lighting but…”
He looked up to three blank faces. “Ah, this is how they make cartoons,” he said. “They take a background and then superimpose the action over it.”
The detectives turned to Rachel for confirmation. She shook her head. Excepting drunken binges on old Powerpuff Girls reruns in her late teens, she hadn’t seen a cartoon since she was twelve.
“Don’t you know how this stuff works?” asked Zockinski.
“I’m a pretty lousy cyborg,” she said.
Santino’s expression didn’t change but he glazed over with a white opaque film. She had seen this reaction before, always when he had resigned himself to explain something which was, to him, extremely straightforward.
“This is a composite,” he said, holding up the tablet. “The footage of the background is real and so is that of the fight. They made it by putting the one over the other. The end result is a fabrication, but they grounded it by adding light sources and shadows. And since it was shot in black and white, they didn’t have to worry about color matching.”
“Is that possible? You can make a video out of pieces?” Zockinski was completely out of his element.
“Definitely. It’s very similar to how they use green screens in movies. A digital forensic specialist can tell you exactly what was done here.”
“Do we have one of those at First?” Hill asked Zockinski.
“Yes, but I know where you can find a really good one,” Rachel said.
The detectives went gray and cold.
She shrugged. “Fine. Your funeral.”
“The tech doesn’t matter,” Zockinski said. “All we have to do is track down the other man.”
“Who? The guy that taught a class to a bunch of cops just to set one up for assault charges?” Santino snorted. “I’m sure he’ll be easy to find.”
“The cameraman,” Rachel said. “Even if he works for the MPD, talk to him. He needed to get a specific angle to make it seem as though the video was shot from the security cameras, so the cameraman was either in on it or had contact with them.”
Hill nodded, his tension easing. Old-fashioned police work was a comfort.
“We can’t do anything until we clear this with Ward Six,” said Zockinski. “And we have to talk to the Lou first.”
“Yeah,” Hill said. “That’ll be an interesting meeting. ‘Hey Lieutenant, want to see something that will put me away for ten to twenty?’”
“God, yeah. What a cock-up this’ll be.” Zockinski took off without another word. Hill followed, then paused to give her and Santino a cautious wave goodbye.
Baby steps.
FIVE
“Oh hello,” Santino said. “Look who’s here.”
They had decided to check out the coffee store where the second assault had occurred before they called it a night. Santino had driven them back to Ward One along posh tree-lined streets where each person was accompanied by a minimum of two yappy dogs. Rachel was struck by the differences between this neighborhood and that
“Assistant,” said Hill.
“Hill performs a few takedowns with the assistant. A month after that, the assistant is assaulted here, and the security film shows Hill in place of the assailant. Definitely sounds like a setup.”
“No shit,” said Zockinski. “When did this happen?”
“Uh…” Rachel checked her notes. “July ninth.”
Hill exhaled, relieved. “That’s the day my sister got married. There’s a hundred witnesses who saw me give a toast at a botanical garden in New York.”
“This is really clever,” Santino said. He had taken her tablet and was reviewing the video. “You couldn’t swap Hill’s face over the original without having to render everything separately, and there’d always be a seam between the real and the altered. What I think they did here is take a clean shot of the background and then add the figures over it. They’d have to adjust the lighting but…”
He looked up to three blank faces. “Ah, this is how they make cartoons,” he said. “They take a background and then superimpose the action over it.”
The detectives turned to Rachel for confirmation. She shook her head. Excepting drunken binges on old Powerpuff Girls reruns in her late teens, she hadn’t seen a cartoon since she was twelve.
“Don’t you know how this stuff works?” asked Zockinski.
“I’m a pretty lousy cyborg,” she said.
Santino’s expression didn’t change but he glazed over with a white opaque film. She had seen this reaction before, always when he had resigned himself to explain something which was, to him, extremely straightforward.
“This is a composite,” he said, holding up the tablet. “The footage of the background is real and so is that of the fight. They made it by putting the one over the other. The end result is a fabrication, but they grounded it by adding light sources and shadows. And since it was shot in black and white, they didn’t have to worry about color matching.”
“Is that possible? You can make a video out of pieces?” Zockinski was completely out of his element.
“Definitely. It’s very similar to how they use green screens in movies. A digital forensic specialist can tell you exactly what was done here.”
“Do we have one of those at First?” Hill asked Zockinski.
“Yes, but I know where you can find a really good one,” Rachel said.
The detectives went gray and cold.
She shrugged. “Fine. Your funeral.”
“The tech doesn’t matter,” Zockinski said. “All we have to do is track down the other man.”
“Who? The guy that taught a class to a bunch of cops just to set one up for assault charges?” Santino snorted. “I’m sure he’ll be easy to find.”
“The cameraman,” Rachel said. “Even if he works for the MPD, talk to him. He needed to get a specific angle to make it seem as though the video was shot from the security cameras, so the cameraman was either in on it or had contact with them.”
Hill nodded, his tension easing. Old-fashioned police work was a comfort.
“We can’t do anything until we clear this with Ward Six,” said Zockinski. “And we have to talk to the Lou first.”
“Yeah,” Hill said. “That’ll be an interesting meeting. ‘Hey Lieutenant, want to see something that will put me away for ten to twenty?’”
“God, yeah. What a cock-up this’ll be.” Zockinski took off without another word. Hill followed, then paused to give her and Santino a cautious wave goodbye.
Baby steps.
FIVE
“Oh hello,” Santino said. “Look who’s here.”
They had decided to check out the coffee store where the second assault had occurred before they called it a night. Santino had driven them back to Ward One along posh tree-lined streets where each person was accompanied by a minimum of two yappy dogs. Rachel was struck by the differences between this neighborhood and that
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