“I hate to break it to you, Chief, but he’s our only shot to crack this thing wide open!” said detective Tom Miller as Jackson stood in the corner of the office holding case files up to his ear like a seashell and listening for clues. “His approach is different, I know that. It scares me just as much as it scares you. But we have to trust him. He’s our only hope. ”

“Look, Chief: screw the D.A., screw the Mayor, screw the commissioner, screw the whole lot of them! Do we want to sit here and fight about bureaucratic procedures and proper protocols or do we want to find the sick son of a bitch who did this?” said Miller, as Jackson finished folding yet another page of the case file into paper airplane, throwing it softly towards the police chief. “His methods don’t make sense to you and I Chief, but that’s exactly why we need him. We need a new perspective to get to the bottom of this!”

“You gotta take a leap of faith, Chief, we’re all outta options. He’s our last shot at giving the people of this town some answers,” said Miller, as Jackson methodically shredded all the files in the office and proceeded to make a snow angel in the pile of paper scraps. “He plays by his own rules and he’s more unorthodox than anyone I’ve ever worked with but DAMMIT he delivers.”

At press time Sly Jackson was blowing his nose into the official police report.