OFFICER DIAS RESTROPO AND Officer Matias Moreno are partners. No, not in the marriage sense of the word partners. They are just two ordinary guys, two ordinary cops. If asked, they would tell you so. They would say simply: “We’re just cops. Not good cops. Not bad cops. Just cops.” If asked how good the Restropo-Moreno team is, their sergeant would give them the most common Yelp review: “Good but not great.”

Restropo and Moreno patrol the area between Roosevelt Avenue to the south and Grand Central Parkway to the north. An occasional free Colombian lunch at Leños Bar Restaurant is as close to a kickback as they ever take.

They both come from South American families, both are Colombian, and they think today would be a fine time to tap Dias Diego, the owner of Leños, for a nice meal of chuleta valluna, the deep-fried pork dish that is perfect when paired with a cold Coke and a large order of red beans and rice.

Before the fried pork arrives, Dias Diego visits the police officers’ table.

“I don’t know whether this is of interest to you, mis amigos, but there’s been an automobile accident across the street. Nothing serious. You can take a look at it from the window near the bar.”

Both Restropo and Moreno have a similar thought: in the time it will take them to walk to the window, evaluate the situation, and, God forbid, go out and get involved, the crispy breaded crust of the chuleta will be soggy, and crispness is the whole delicious deal. So they do what they often do: they shoot Rock, Paper, Scissors—best two out of three. Moreno loses. And moments later he is standing next to the neon Schlitz sign at the front window, watching a small crowd gather around a black Mercedes S500. From Moreno’s deduction, it looks like the Mercedes sideswiped a light-green gypsy cab, a nondescript Toyota. The Toyota driver is arguing with the people from the Mercedes: two men, along with a woman who is holding an infant.

Meanwhile, lunch is getting cold. Moreno returns to the table, breaks open a can of Coke, and tells Restropo, “Just some stupid fender bender.”

No sooner has Moreno taken a gulp of his Coke than they hear the clear, clean whizz of a bullet and the sound of the crowd yelling. Both cops jump up and run to the window.

The Toyota driver is on the ground, bleeding from his right thigh—not a great location to take a bullet. As the two cop partners rush out the restaurant door, Restropo notices the woman quickly place the infant into the arms of one of her companions. The woman then begins to run east on Northern Boulevard. The two NYPD officers are more concerned with the wounded man on the ground and the crowd around him.