His record showed 14 commendations for good police work. He had made several solid arrests, helped with community events, and his supervisors had always rated him as competent.
But there was something else in Castellano's file that hadn't been addressed. Over his four years, he had received nine complaints from citizens alleging racial profiling or inappropriate conduct. All nine complaints had come from Black or Latino residents. All nine had been investigated and marked as unfounded or unsubstantiated.
The complaints had been investigated by his previous supervisor, Lieutenant Vernon Kowalski, who was known for protecting his officers and dismissing most civilian complaints as people trying to get out of legitimate police work. Kowalski had retired six months ago.
The new supervisor for Castellano's unit was someone from another division, someone Castellano had never worked with before. That supervisor was Darnell Whitmore.
Darnell Whitmore was 38 years old and had been with the department for 15 years. He had started as a patrol officer, worked his way up to detective, and then moved into supervision. He had an exemplary record: two Medal of Valor commendations for actions under fire, dozens of successful investigations, and a reputation for being tough but fair.
He had also spent the last five years living in the Riverside neighborhood, one of the nicer areas in the city. His house was a well-maintained three-bedroom craftsman-style home with a detached garage and a small front yard. The neighborhood was predominantly white, upper-middle class, and quiet.
Whitmore had moved there with his wife and two daughters. He loved the neighborhood: good schools, low crime, friendly neighbors. He had introduced himself to everyone on the block when he moved in. Most of them were welcoming. A few seemed surprised that a Black family was moving into the area, but Whitmore had experienced that before. He focused on being a good neighbor and didn't worry about the rest.
That Saturday morning in November, Whitmore had the day off. He decided to wash his car, a dark blue sedan that needed a good cleaning after a week of rain. He pulled the car into the driveway, got out his bucket and sponge, and started washing.
The weather was perfect: temperature in the mid-60s, sunny, light breeze. Whitmore was wearing jeans, a gray T-shirt, and old sneakers. He had his earbuds in, listening to music while he worked. He was completely relaxed, enjoying his day off, thinking about taking his daughters to the park later.
He never heard the patrol car pull up behind him.