Canton police going Solo with Karen Read evidence

A Canton Police Department investigation will leave no stone unturned, except for maybe the rock that the 46 pieces of broken taillight are hidden under.

If you want to hide something real good, just stick it in one of the Canton PD’s red Solo cups, after which they’ll stash them all in a brown Stop & Shop bag and leave the sack in an unsecured refrigerator at the police station.

Fill in your own Barney Fife joke here. Today Barney Fife would be the police chief of Canton. He only had one bullet, but at least Barney never got drunk and left it in another department’s cruiser.

Just when you think there’s no worse possible law enforcement agency anywhere than the Mass State Police, along comes a witness for the Canton PD, a retired lieutenant named Paul Gallagher.

Consider him the CPD’s designated fall guy.

In 2023, Gallagher, who on a good day has the IQ of a soft-boiled egg, made $322,389.05.

You don’t make that kind of money as a cop by rocking the boat. You go along to get along. There’s a great novel called “Pop. 1280” by Jim Thompson about a crooked Texas sheriff who could be Paul Gallagher’s spiritual mentor.

Here’s what the fictional sheriff said about making the big bucks.

“I had it made, and it looked like I could go on having it made… as long as I minded my own business and didn’t arrest no one unless I just couldn’t get out of it and they didn’t amount to nothing.”

You know, like Karen Read.

That’s fiction from 1964. This was Paul Gallagher testifying Tuesday in the Karen Read murder trial, about how he handled the investigation of the murder of a Boston police officer at another Boston cop’s house at 34 Fairview. Defense attorney Alan Jackson was cross-examining Gallagher about his reluctance to do anything.

Jackson: “The fact is you didn’t seek a search warrant?”

Gallagher: “Correct.”

Jackson: “The fact is you never searched the house?”

Gallagher: “That’s correct.”

Jackson: “The fact is you never searched the basement?”

Gallagher: “That’s correct.”

Jackson: “The fact is you never searched the garage?”

Gallagher: “That’s correct.”

Excuses? Gallagher has got a few. For one thing, he says, the State Police’s crack crew of detectives from the Norfolk County district attorney’s office handles murder probes in the White Trash Capital of Massachusetts.

This is the same MSP crew that in 2021 ruled the murder of a pregnant 23-year-old a suicide, after claiming they couldn’t find 32,000 text messages between the woman and her boyfriend, yet another local cop and good pal of the crooked MSP crew.

That Stoughton cop, who was cleared by the Norfolk County DA’s office, is now in federal custody, awaiting trial on murder charges.

But there was another reason why Gallagher’s Canton sleuths passed on the murder probe. You see, the death house, 34 Fairview, was owned by Brian Albert, a Boston cop, whose brother is Canton PD Det. Kevin “Fat” Albert.

“We should recuse ourselves because our best detective was Kevin Albert.”

Their “best” detective, Kevin “Fat” Albert, was disciplined last year after getting so drunk in a State Police cruiser that he lost his gun and his badge. His drinking buddy that day (and night) was Trooper Michael Proctor, who was just fired from the State Police for his disgraceful behavior in this same kangaroo-court trial.

Gallagher was giving every cop a good leaving alone. That’s the way you do things in Canton, at least if you want to make $322,000 a year.

Heck, he knew Brian Albert, the slimy Boston cop. He knew the drunk cop, Kevin. The Canton selectman, who controlled the police budget, was Jailbird Chris Albert, who did six months for hit-and-run manslaughter himself.

Who is anybody in Canton to cast the first stone? Especially about boozing it up.

And Gallagher was even pals with another one of the drunk cops in the death house at 34 Fairview that evening, a fat slob named Brian Higgins who worked, in a manner of speaking for Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms (ATF) mostly A, at least after hours.

Jackson asked Gallagher about Higgins:

“You consider him a good friend?”

Gallagher: “Yes I do.”

And good friends don’t bother other good friends, even if, or maybe especially if another cop is dead.

Jackson: “You didn’t interview Brian Higgins?”

Gallagher: “I did not, no.”

Jackson: “You wouldn’t interview Brian Higgins because he is your personal friend? Is that correct.”

Gallagher: “Correct.”

Again, the $322,000-a-year peace officer is channeling the fictional sheriff from the 1964 novel.

“I probably ain’t real smart – who wants a smart sheriff? – and I figure it’s a lot nicer to turn your back on trouble than it is to look at it. I mean, what the heck, we got enough trouble of our own without butting in on other people’s.”

Isn’t that the truth?

But when Gallagher stumbles across a dead body in the snow, he won’t look the other way. He’s a law-enforcement professional, after all.

He searches the scene with his trained eye for evidence of a crime. He uses the best forensic tools available – a leaf blower.

“I wasn’t gonna miss anything with a leaf blower,” Gallagher said.

He borrowed the leaf blower from the neighbor across the street – another cop.

In the snow, with his trusty leaf blower, Gallagher found a clear cocktail glass. But he somehow missed those 46 pieces of red taillight from the death SUV, which were found days and weeks later by the aforementioned Michael Proctor, now fired from the State Police for gross misconduct.

Jackson: “You did not see a single piece of bright red plastic taillight material?”

Gallagher: “No sir, not in that area?”

Jackson: “As a matter of fact, you didn’t see 46 pieces of taillight material either clear or bright red?”

Gallagher: “No.”

Like Barney Fife, Paul Gallagher retired with a full pension. How Canton is it?