Jordan Crane

**Jordan Crane** is one of Sheriff Stilinski's newest and youngest deputies. He's in charge of handling Zachary Satō's case; partners with Deputy Woods.

## **Physical Appearance**

Jordan is a tall, lean, muscular, and impressively attractive young man with green eyes, and dark brown hair. He is typically only seen in his Sheriff's deputy uniform, but on his off-hours, Jordan typically dresses casually in v-neck t-shirts in neutral colors, relaxed jeans, and leather jackets.

## **Personality and Traits**

Very much friendly; his kind-hearted nature is why he's great in a crisis.

## **Role in Season 1**

### ***I See Something Red***

```
**Case Number: A/M 27/04/20/1246**
Incident: Murder

Reporting Officer: Sheriff Deputy Jordan Crane

Date of Report: 27. May 2008

1. On 27.05.2008, the 16-year-old victim Zachary Satō was reported deceased by a witness.  Most recently, the male victim was seen around 9:30 p.m. at the so-called "Spago" in Albuquerque.

2. Street, No. 1890-1891. According to reports by the victim's witness, he is said to have moved away from the last place of residence independently at said time.

3. After initial investigations, surveillance recordings had spotted the victim around 9:35 p.m. at the emergency exits of "Spago" no. 1890-1891 and the Hudson St. alleyway in the night.

4. Show street. After leaving the site, the track got lost.

5. So far, no claims have been made by third parties.

6. Follow-up reports will follow.

```

The very moment Jordan and Deputy Woods have began their patrol, the first priority call has been to Hudson Street for this “disturbance,” but as Jordan surveys the scene before him through the windshield, he can’t figure out why. Still, a call was a call, so he and Woods hop out of their patrol car and lock up, radios clip to their vests, and Woods grudgingly flips his cap back on while Jordan pulls his face-mask up over his nose. “Should’ve taken the second call about the shoplifter,” Woods says as they walk. “Nothing beats the call about the escaped iguana,” Jordan says, and Woods nudges him, laughing. “The look on your face when we pulled up and it was *actually* an escaped iguana,” he says with a grin. “Top three best moments of my life.” “What were the first two?” “You don’t want to know.” “You’re a pain in the ass.” Jordan lifts his hand halfway in the direction of two teenage boys who catches his eye. “Excuse me?” The two men look like they want to run at the mere sight of law enforcement, but Jordan just waves his hand and shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay. We just got a call about a disturbance here, but it doesn’t look like one. Just wondering what’s going on.” “Oh.” The teenager wearing sunglasses slumps in visible relief, and then he jabs one thumb over his shoulder. “It’s a dead body. We saw a man being hysterical running from out of the alley, so we came to check it out. It’s bloody. You have to see it.” “Bloody?” Jordan raises one eyebrow as a teenage girl rushes up to the two boys, gripping one of them by the arm. “Officer? Sorry. Are we in trouble?” “No trouble,” Jordan replies. “Go ahead. Take your pictures.” The teenagers run off, leaving Jordan standing bewildered in front of the dark alleyway. Normally, the area is teeming with adults walking about and cars passing by, but the usual bustle seems to be amplified, and the crowd is heavily concentrated by the outer wall of the room on the right side near the alleyway where the dumpsters are. Woods is chatting with two teenage boys, so Jordan catches his eye, flicks a finger towards the wall, and begins walking in that direction. There seems to be a line forming for the crime scene. Jordan rounds the corner and watches as everyone waiting suddenly falls silent in the presence of a police officer, worried that they are doing something wrong. Jordan only waves his hand again and steps back to play the role of silent observer, and then he folds his arms and stares at the body. The pale, bloodied corpse is a teenage boy. The boy is wearing a brown, sheer, long-sleeved graphic mock neck tee with baby angels, alongside black jeans and black leather boots. Jordan crouches down in front of the corpse, staring at the cherubic Asian boy for a few seconds, seeing the blood soaking his shirt red and the guts hanging out of his opened chest. Crimson drips thickly from his lips, mixing with saliva as it fell to join the growing trail on his chest. Jordan takes a glance to his right as he hears Woods chatting down the alleyway, not being too concerned about it. “So, what’s the disturbance?” Woods murmurs, coming closer. “Yeah, I need more details, let me -- excuse me.” Jordan holds out his arm and beckons to three teenage boys who have just stepped away from their photo opportunity at the wall. “You’re not in trouble, don’t run off,” he added in exasperation, seeing the way that the boys’ feet were shifting nervously. “I just want to know what this is about.” “Oh-h-h.” One of the boys laughs as the other two nudge each other. “We, um, saw a man running out of here and he was *hysterical* -- crying and shouting. He kept pointing to where the dumpsters were, so we came here to see it.” “Who’s ‘he’?” Jordan wonders. “I don’t know; some dude,” the boy answers, and when he notices the blank look in Jordan’s eyes, he laughs breathily, likely at Jordan’s expense. “Oh, come on. You haven’t seen the body?” “Dude,” one of the other boys hisses, likely trying to flag his friend for borderline disrespect of a police officer. Jordan has been on the receiving end of far worse. “Sorry,” the boy apologizes with a bow of his head. “Thank you,” Jordan says dismissively, tilting his head and then turning over his shoulder to Woods. The boys run off, laughing with their heads bent together, and Jordan pulls out his phone as Woods does the same. “Other officers found the I.D. of the victim,” Woods mutters under his breath, typing it in. “Zachary Satō, 16-years-old,” Jordan deduces immediately. “Any other information? Family, friends... Enemies?” Woods asks. “We should speak with everyone who knows him, and let his parents know... That’s gonna suck *ass*,” Jordan says. Clapping Jordan on the shoulder in solidarity and sympathy, Jordan takes a few obligatory pictures of the vicious crime scene itself. Then, with nothing left to see, they hop back into their car to continue their patrol. The cover of darkness makes New Mexico come alive -- in a good way or bad way, Jordan can’t determine. But he loves it. He craves it. During a night shift, Jordan can dish out DUIs or break-up fights or drag homophobic assholes out of nightclubs in New Mexico. He has seen the worst of the worst -- drug overdoses, suicides, domestic abuse that ended terribly, car crashes in which he held victims’ hands as they took their last breath. As a short list, the job sounds traumatizing. But to Jordan, it gives him a chance to observe and appreciate the human condition with all its faults and flaws, but also its beauty. Because then he can respond to calls like this, like social commentary art on a brick wall, and appreciate it as well.

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“Are we splitting up the reports from the day?” Jordan asks as he holds open the door for Woods to the CSPA precinct. “Because fuck if I do the shoplifting report. I’ll take the wall art report.” “Yeah, take it,” Woods laughs, removing his hat and tossing it onto his desk as he ruffled his hair. “I’d rather eat glass. Speaking of which, what are you doing for dinner?” “Delivery,” Jordan answers, and Woods shoots him finger guns with a wink, clearly agreeing. Exhausted, Jordan twists his torso to crack his back, thinking only of the slaughtered teenager in the dark alleyway. What a fucking statement to make in this day and age. The report is run-of-the-mill, and Jordan thinks absolutely nothing of it. Immediately, Jordan rises to his feet, as does several other officers who are in the thick of their paperwork. “Jordan Crane?” “Yes.” Sheriff Stilinski stands in the doorway, scanning the room with his dark eyes. His eyes fall on Jordan when Jordan responds, and he beckons. “Come with me,” he says as Jordan nods. Jordan scoots between two desks, raising his eyebrows at Woods when Woods wiggles his fingers discreetly at the official nature of the summoning. A few phones ring and one radio goes off as Jordan smooths the front of his shirt and follows the Sheriff through the door and down the hallway. “Your name has come up. We believe you might be able to assist us. Step inside.” Jordan steps into the meeting room, taking stock of two (impatient) detectives and the deputy chief of CSPA, Michael Kang, who knows Jordan well. With a few more nods, Jordan then sits in the chair being offered to him, feeling oddly out of place in his standard police uniform compared to three men in suits and one woman in a pantsuit. “I caught wind today of a call that came through on your patrol,” Kang says as he perches on the edge of the table informally, folding his hands together. “A call to which you and your partner responded in Albuquerque. Would you like to tell me a little about that?” “Ah. I just finished the report for that. It was a typical disturbance call, but it wasn’t much of a disturbance,” Jordan explains immediately. “It was just a bunch of teenagers gathering outside an alleyway. We confirmed that the owner called it in. But the kids were just there to take pictures of the body against the wall near the dumpsters.” “Right. Thank you. Detective Hong?” Kang says, and Jordan shifts to put his knees under the table as one of the detectives opens a file and begins to use a few fingers to push pictures towards Jordan. “Our victim’s name is Zachary Satō -- 16-years-old. Transferred to East High School from West High School just a couple of days ago,” Hong states, fanning the pictures out as Jordan decisively rises to his feet, palms pressing to the table so he can have a better look. “...Found in an alleyway by a shop owner then by three teenagers, slumped against the wall near dumpsters. Physical injuries: 13 deep stab wounds to the chest. A single slash underneath the collarbone. Died instantly from the slash.” “And you’re sure he died from the slash wound itself, or from blood-loss...?” Jordan asks, glancing up with raised eyebrows. “We have our suspicions,” the deputy chief, Kang, replies. “We can’t make assumptions, though,” Jordan replies, and it was Kang who chuckles. “I can see why you requested that we involve him,” Kang says to Sheriff Stilinski, and Jordan feels his ears burning.
“At first, it was just some local homeless person noticing the victim and called the shop owner for backup,” Hojun continues. “But *obviously* the assailant fled the scene immediately after the victim died. Then after the shop owner ran away, horrified, that’s when the three teenagers were there and saw the deceased, too. Now the perpetrator is gaining traction and attention, we’re stretched paper thin, and we need to do something about this. We already notified the victim’s parents.” “And it’s creating quite a stir. A few mayors and other politicians have begun to take note of it, and they’re not too happy. Parents are hearing some murderer is in town and lodging complaints for the sake of their children. We figured we could just let it slide, but it’s escalating quickly now.” “And as we said -- our resources are thin, and this is the straw to break the camel’s back. So we’re putting together a very small task force,” Kang says. “Targeting the killer. Our goal is to identify the person and arrest him and charge him for his crime.” “And what would the charges be?” Jordan asks as he sits back down in his chair. Kang and Hojun glance at each other, and the two detectives both simultaneously clear their throats. But when no-one answered, Jordan raises his eyebrows. “Charges? What would he be arrested for? Anything?” “It’s time for it to stop, Jordan,” Kang says firmly, and Jordan takes that tone as a sign to shut his mouth immediately. “Too many feathers have been ruffled behind the scenes, and now it’s leaking into the public. Now we have five citizens who are traumatized by seeing a dead body!” “Deputy Chief Kang has made the decision to temporarily pull you from your regular duties to focus on this task force, Jordan, and we’d like you to lead it,” Stilinski replies as Jordan’s heart plummets into the pit of his stomach. Lead it? Kang sees the look on Jordan’s face. “Many of our other higher-ranking officers and detectives are bogged down with other cases and a hefty workload. Your name came up first. Your deputy chief trusts you.” “Thank you. I’ll work hard,” Jordan says with a nod in Stilinski’s direction, his heart still threatening to hit the floor. “The task force, as I said, will be designed to identify the assailant and bring him to justice,” Kang replies. “Stop this foolishness before it spirals out of control. The mayor of this town is already knocking on our door asking for something to be done. He’s rather upset. So let’s be mindful, please. You’ll lead this task force for however long it takes. Hojun mentioned that you have a partner. I’m familiar with Steven Adams and his story. He’ll need to report for duty as usual, but there’s no harm in picking his brain for this and adding him to the task force. You’ll have Ethan Woods as your consulting detective on this case if need be.” “Looking forward to it,” Ethan says as he looks to Jordan. Jordan returns the glance. “Any other members of the task force will be at your discretion,” Kang replies. “Perhaps an expert in art to analyze this man’s creations and someone who knows their way around social media. Just a small team to piece together the puzzle so we no longer looked like an incompetent police force who can’t catch a graffiti enthusiast. Whoever can help you find this psycho and bring him to us.” “I’ll do my best.” Jordan stands up, even though alarm bells are going off in his head. “Great. Jordan, your shift schedule remains as normal. You’ll report to Deputy Chief Kang and debrief at 0800 hours each day on any findings,” Stilinski says, and Jordan nods. “Any additional members of the task force should be cleared with him. Woods is here for consulting purposes, but don’t depend on him -- he’s a busy man.” “I’m sure Jordan can handle it,” Ethan says with a small laugh. “He’s got a knack for things like this, from what I’ve heard.”