The Mamacita Murders Page 16

  “Today it is, but it sounds like it will be a homicide tomorrow, when Laura dies. Let me know if your department is not going to send you. If they don’t, I’m not filing charges on Clown and you’ll have to re-arrest him after you investigate it further and we figure out who this DNA belongs to,” says Tanner.

  “You can’t release him. He’s a runner. He’ll be gone and you’ll never find him,” says Dylan.

  “Like I said, I’m not going forward on him until we figure out Cruz’ connection to all this. You have ten days. That’s my final decision,” says Tanner.

  “You’ll need to provide us with an attorney who speaks Spanish. We’ll need to work with the police department over there and funeral home to get access to Cruz’s body. I’ve done this before. It’s a lot of work and we need someone who speaks Spanish,” says Dylan.

  “I don’t need to do anything. This is something you need to figure out. And I’ll tell you why,” Tanner begins.

  “Let’s say Clown goes free and now the public knows that Cruz was inside that room and has something to do with a drive-by and threatening a prosecutor. We have evidence with DNA that we are still trying to figure out who it belongs to. Then it comes out that your department okayed his body to be shipped off to the Walled City with no autopsy and no blood taken. That is not going to look very good. I think that your Lieutenant might have an interest in your department getting to the bottom of Cruz’ involvement and not forcing me to.

  “If your agency doesn’t want to give this case priority because it’s not a homicide, tell your boss it will be. I can guarantee we’ll be getting a call from Memorial Hospital within the next couple days when Laura is pronounced dead. And I don’t think your Chief of Police wants any media attention for this, especially in a year she’s running in an opposed election. That’s just my take on things. But you let me know,” says Tanner.

  I decide to speak up, hoping to ease the tension.

  “I’d like to make a suggestion. I can go. I speak Spanish,” I say. “I’m scheduled to leave to a couple of countries near the Walled City in a week. I want to see this case through. Everybody knows how much I care about Laura. She was the girl I was trying to get into The Mamacita Club. But the office thought it would be a conflict and her mom really didn’t want her joining, anyway.

  “I’d be willing to head to the Walled City and help Dylan get the Cruz thing squared away. It’s on the way. The countries are not that far from each other,” I say.

  “You’d miss your entire vacation for this?” asks Prosecutor Debra Miller.

  “I didn’t quite say that,” I say, backtracking.

  “After the Walled City, I’d still like to continue on with my vacation. I’ve been saving up for it for a while. I would actually wind up taking an extra week off if I went early. If the office can pay for me to get from the Walled City to my destination, I’d be fine with that. It shouldn’t be more than a couple hundred dollars,” I say.

  “Done,” Prosecutor Debra Miller says.

  “Plus, I’ve always wanted to visit the Walled City. My mom traveled there with a family she nannied for when she was young. And she always spoke highly of it,” I say reminiscently.

  “Well, there you go,” says Debra Miller.

  “Now you have your Spanish-speaking attorney, Dylan. You just need to get yourself there. Assuming your agency approves you to go, let’s get Clown arraigned today on the attempted murder of Laura Paula. Go ahead and file his violent priors as well. I’m not making any offers on this case yet. If we don’t have this investigation squared away and Cruz ruled out by the preliminary hearing, I’m dropping the charges,” says Tanner.

  “I’ll call my Lieutenant right now,” says Dylan.

  “The other thing, Dylan. I want Gaby involved in all stages of this investigation from this point on. She will be required to report back to me daily on the status. Do you hear me? I don’t want my office to have to run a parallel investigation on this. I want you and the Leafwood Police Department to determine Cruz’ level of involvement. Do you have any questions?” asks Tanner.

  “No questions. I heard you loud and clear. I’ll be heading to the Walled City. I hope I’m on a flight tomorrow and hopefully Gaby will be in the passenger seat next to me. I will try my best. I have until the preliminary hearing. I heard everything loud and clear,” says Dylan.

  “This meeting is over. Gaby, let Mary know whatever you need for the flight. I personally will handle this case until you return from your vacation. Have a nice trip and keep me updated,” says Tanner.

  Five minutes after the staffing concludes, I slam my office door.

  “Are you comfortable with me taking a swab from you?” Dylan asks.

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You just seem a little annoyed.”

  Dylan takes out a plastic disposable envelope with a long brown stick with a white cotton swab at the end. He removes the plastic lid sealed around the swab and hands it to me. I have no idea what to do. I’ve prosecuted dozens of cases involving DNA and have had experts testify about the buccal swab, but I’ve never done one on myself. I hold it, looking at Dylan.

  “Rub it six times in each side of your inner cheek.”

  I follow Dylan’s instruction, wondering if this is what it feels like being accused of a crime.

  Dylan re-caps the swab and hands me a second one, telling me to do the same thing.

  “Are you okay?” asks Dylan.

  “Is it just me or was it completely out of line for Stevie Sapp to suggest I did something wrong with the belt? I’m so irritated,” I say.

  Dylan stares at me and doesn’t say anything.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?” I ask.

  Dylan stays quiet.

  “What was I supposed to do? Watch her lie there and do nothing? Go look for gloves? Let her circulation keep getting cut off from the belt?” I yell.

  Dylan says nothing.

  “Tell me, Dylan. What was I supposed to do? Did I do something wrong crawling into bed with her? She was dying. I was trying to help her. Please don’t tell me I did something wrong,” I say dramatically, feeling myself start to tremble.

  Dylan starts to say something and stops.

  He walks over to me and puts his arms around me as I begin to shake. My eyes start to tear up as I think of my mom and how much I wish I could have saved her.

  “Look, you’re emotional. We can talk about this later,” says Dylan.

  “No. I want to talk about this now. What was I supposed to do?” I say demandingly.

  I pull away from Dylan’s grip and wipe my eyes.

  “Assume that’s your DNA on the belt. People are going to be concerned. Detective Ford was concerned when I told him female DNA was on the belt.”

  “Why would people be concerned? What are you saying? I loosened the belt,” I assert.

  “Stevie and Ford have a legitimate concern. It would be a huge thing for defense to use in their favor.”

  “What you’re saying makes no sense, Dylan.”

  I stare at the ground in disbelief. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

  “Ford wanted me to get a search warrant for your buccal swab and your fingerprints, which I also need to roll.”

  “Why would you need a warrant?”

  “And he was really interested when he heard you were one of the last people to see Laura before she was assaulted,” says Dylan accusingly.

  “You’re making me feel like I’m a suspect.”

  “This is why I didn’t want to talk about this.”

  I take a deep breath. There’s a knock at my office door.

  “Come in!” I yell.

  Mike Tanner pops his head into my office and looks at Dylan and me.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I just wanted to let you know that you need to talk to the Bureau so they can do a threat assessment on that note you received, Gaby. Don’t sit on this any longer. We take these threats serious and I w
ant you to feel safe. Whatever you need, we’ll be here,” says Tanner.

  “Thanks Mike,” Dylan says.

  Tanner shuts the door looking at me, concerned.

  “Are you going to be okay?” asks Dylan, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  “I’ll be fine. I need some fresh air and I need to get out of here and get this complaint filed,” I say, regaining my composure.

  19

  EVERYONE WANTS SOMETHING

  Department Nineteen is the place where arraignments for felony criminal complaints take place. I sit in the audience section alone, waiting for Dylan and watching the circus of the Monday afternoon arraignment calendar. An arraignment is the first appearance in court after a suspect is arrested for his crime. All the men who are being arraigned in Department Nineteen sit in orange jumpsuits in the first three rows of the audience section.

  A government-paid criminal defender is standing like a teacher educating all these rejects. My jaded way of thinking knows they are all guilty, maybe not of everything they are charged with, but something. The truth usually lies somewhere in between a criminal complaint and their sad confession.

  The criminal defender is telling them that this is the time and place for their arraignment. He explains that he’s going to enter not guilty pleas on behalf of all of them. He’s like a shepherd herding his sheep to the slaughterhouse. This is the first day of what will probably last at least a year spent in the criminal justice system between all the continuances, hearings, and motions.

  Watching these young men, all wearing the same color outfit, reminds me of the danger in viewing all defendants in the same light, as outcasts. And when you begin to see people as outsiders and rejects, there’s a risk they become expendable. Amongst the orange crowd, is Clown. He’s so easy to spot with his bald head and his big squishy smile.

  A well-put-together man, who looks like he just stepped out of his Mercedes or Audi, walks into the courtroom. He has “private beach city defense attorney” flashing from his forehead based on his expensive wardrobe alone. His light pink suit blazer and purple tie give him away. Men like him stumble upon the Tuckford sticks every now and again. They are either expanding their practice to Tuckford County from the wealthier beach cities, or they have roots in the Republican wealthiness, which is little known but quite prominent in Tuckford County.

  He’s obviously never appeared in this courthouse. I would have recognized him if he did. Now he looks confused, walking around the courtroom, looking at the calendar sitting at the podium near the exit door, and trying to figure out how things work in Department Nineteen. A part of me wants to help him out, but another part doesn’t want to waste my breath on helping a defense attorney. He should be able to figure it out, anyway.

  Courthouses are generally the same regardless of what county you’re in. But each one has its own way of handling matters. In some cities, for example, inmates sit towards the front of the courtroom behind a big glass window. They are kept away from the public and away from the prosecutors. It seems a lot safer than how it’s done in Tuckford County.

  Here, the inmates are sitting in the general audience area of the courtroom. They move from a sally port that connects the courtrooms and leads to an elevator that takes the inmates downstairs to a holding cell, where they sit waiting for their court appearance. That holding cell connects to a tunnel leading to the Old Town Jail.

  Inside the courtroom, the inmates constantly pass attorneys, practically brushing shoulders with them because of the small moving space inside the courtroom. Occasionally throughout the day, I hear a deputy yell, “Counsel, inmates coming through.” It’s basically code talk for “Get the hell out of the way because one of these bastards might shank you.”

  I’ve heard of a case where the inmate lunged at a prosecutor during trial in front of the jury. That alone would guarantee a guilty verdict. It’s just a matter of time before somebody gets shanked in this courtroom, and I mean shanking as in stabbing. I’ve seen inmates bring sharp weapons to court, like it’s show and tell day. They make them with whatever they can find in the jail. My hope is they bring them to defend themselves or attack other inmates and not me or any of my colleagues, even the defense attorneys I can’t stand.

  The man I’ve stereotyped a beach city defense attorney walks around the courtroom. His shirt and purple paisley tie make me wonder whether he’s gay or straight. He walks straight up to me. His handsome face and smile erases my vision of him getting lunged at by an inmate.

  Even a man like him in his early thirties, who most definitely has a trophy housewife, wouldn’t deserve to be shanked. He’s too cute and looks like my favorite actor, Matt Damon. But his cluelessness about his surroundings make him a prime target for shanking. He walks closer to me.

  “Hi there, is this where the arraignments happen?” he asks.

  “Yes. What arraignment are you here on?” I ask.

  “Rodrigo Garcia, who also goes by Clown.”

  “Did you like how I put that as his AKA on the complaint?”

  “You must be Gabriela Ruiz.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I read the complaint. And you signed it, charging my client with these horrific crimes. I’ll forgive you for that. I’m Bruce Davis. I represent Mr. Garcia,” he says, shaking my hand.

  “Hi there. It’s nice to meet you. Here’s a copy of the initial police reports on the case. Are you ready to arraign him today?” I ask, handing Bruce some paperwork, noticing his left hand is ring-less.

  “Thank you. I was retained on Friday and had a chance to speak to my client over the weekend. I’ve actually represented him before in his out of county cases, so I’m very familiar with him.”

  “Great, what would you like to do today?”

  “How much time are you guys looking for?”

  “A lot of time. Like double digits. But we’re not making any offers today,” I say.

  “Do you seriously want double digits on this?”

  “Yes. This guy is looking at life. Plus, he’s gotten so many breaks in other counties. They just keep giving him chances. He needs to know that he’s in “Big T,” Tuckford County. And I’m not in the business of giving defendants a deal, especially when they’ve already been cut several breaks.”

  “Well, I know just a little about the case from speaking with him. Can you give me your version of the events?”

  I hate when defense attorneys try and get me to chat about the facts of a case. Nine times out of ten they are just trying to figure out what my legal theory is or what parts of my case I think are problematic. Sometimes, things I say get twisted or misconstrued by them later on.

  “You’re just going to have to read the reports. I can tell you the victim is at the hospital right now about to die. If she does, we’re going to be filing murder charges. I also need to fingerprint your client here in court.”

  “What’s that for?”

  “There was a print found on the murder weapon, a ceramic flamingo vase. My office just wants a confirmatory print.”

  “Confirming what?”

  “Just to confirm it’s not his.”

  “You’re not sure if it’s his?”

  “That’s not what I said. They are certain it’s not his; they just want to double confirm.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me that it’s not my client’s print. I was speaking with him over the weekend at the jail. I don’t know how you guys work in this county but he has information you might want.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “That depends on what you can do for him.”

  “That’s not how it works here.”

  “Why don’t you tell me how it works here?” asks Bruce, grinning at me.

  “You give me the information first, or better yet, Clown gives me the information first. We make no promises to him in exchange. It’s called a King for a Day interview.”

  “That’s awfully greedy of you not to give him anything while he puts his life o
n the line and gives you information. Don’t you think?”

  “If he’s serious, he’ll talk. That’s a decision he needs to make. And that’s how it works in every single case. It’s my office’s policy. What information does he have that would even be worth it for me to talk to him?”

  “The information is pretty good. In fact it’s very good, if it’s true.”

  “Give me some sort of indication what it is. I feel like I’m totally in the dark.”

  “It has to do with someone who may be involved in what you’re charging my client with.”

  “Just so you know, I’m heading out of the country tomorrow so if he has anything to say, I would suggest he say it today.”

  “Is someone going to take over this case and do the preliminary hearing because we’re not waiving time.”

  “Yeah, Mike Tanner, the Special Assistant Prosecutor of my office, will handle it. But a defendant who wants to play hard ball and not waive time just might be worth me cutting my trip short for.”

  “Wow, it must be pretty important for your Special Assistant Prosecutor to take over an attempted murder case. Or is there something about this case I need to know, like an officer being involved somehow?”

  “You’ll be given all the information you’re entitled to when the investigation is complete. Is there anything else we need to talk about?”

  “I’ll talk to Clown right now and see what he wants to do. What happens if he wants to give up the information right now?”

  “Investigator Mack should be over here any minute to roll his prints. We can talk to him then. There’s a side room right here. But you and Clown need to understand that I’m making no promises today.”

  “What happens after that?”

  “I evaluate the information with my boss. If we want to use it and he wants a deal, we can talk then about leniency. Let me see what else. Oh. I can’t ever use anything he says today against him. So he’s free to speak openly, even if he talks about other crimes he’s committed. Just let him know, I have no tolerance for liars. If he lies on anything, even something small, he can forget about any deals, ever.”