The Mauling at Kinnickinick Pueblo

by Charles Williamson

  Margaret was not especially squeamish, but the idea of being eaten alive clearly was disturbing to all human beings. It reflected our most primal fears. He continued, “It appears to have been a shotgun blast to the lower abdomen that incapacitated the victim. He was left to die. The cougar merely sped up his death; his wound was certainly fatal if untreated, and he was many miles from the nearest help. It took me more than an hour to get from Lake Mary Road to that remote spot on the rim of Kinnickinick Canyon near Anderson Mesa.”

  “Does the actions of the cougar make premeditated murder less likely?”

  “I haven’t talked with anyone from the county prosecutors, office. I hope it won’t change the charges if we find these killers. There were three shovels and a pick left behind. Preliminary examination found no fingerprints. They probably wore gloves or wiped them clean, although I don’t know why they would leave them behind at all.”

  “I would assume they had their ATVs full of loot with no room left for the tools.”

  “You’re probably right. They were all old tools of a type you could buy at a garage sale. Unless we find a print that they didn’t wipe off or some fibers from the gloves, I doubt they’ll lead anywhere. Tomorrow I’ll start contacting everyone who was at Kinnickinick Lake today. None of them saw the ATVs, but they may have heard them. Those ATVs make a lot of noise, and most of Anderson Mesa is off limits for them because of the pronghorn antelope’s breeding season.”

  “How many ATV tracks did you find?”

  “Jimmy Hendrix took impressions and will review them tomorrow. My guess is that there were three of them. At least one was pulling some type of two wheeled cart.”

  “Sweetie, please tell me about the excavation site? How big was the hole?”

  Mike immediately knew where she was headed with the question. “It was a large excavation, a circle about six feet in diameter and at least that deep. There were also some side trenches, as you’d expect if they were looking for things buried seven or eight hundred years ago. I assume that you believe three men with only hand tools would not have had time to excavate that large of a hole, find the burial, load up their loot, and leave the area in a single morning. I’d send some men back to look for another place where there was a recent camp. I’ll also ask those camping at Kinnickinick Lake if they heard anything the previous day.”

  “What type of shot did you find in the wound?” Margaret asked.

  “It was a large shot. My guess is that it will turn out to be triple or double ought buckshot, but I should get the report by tomorrow.”

  Margaret smiled and said, “I suspect that it’s not hunting season for any big game you would take down with that very large shot. Antelope and elk hunting seasons are six months away. That stuff would blow any fowl to shreds.”

  “You’re implying this was undoubtedly not a hunting accident that was merely coincidental with the looting. There was no reason to carry a weapon with that load of shot except for self-defense or homicide.” Mike smiled because Margaret often noticed clues before he did.

  “No one would use that load for skeet shooting or small game. It was probably taken along to kill anyone who interfered with their federal crime of antiquities theft. That might also help in establishing premeditation. It’s a felony premeditated homicide committed to cover up a federal crime. You could probably get the feds involved if you wanted to.” Margaret smiled at her comment. After over thirty years of marriage she realized what Mike’s reaction would be.

  Mike grimaced. “That is one of the last things I want. This is a local murder in the jurisdiction of Coconino County.”

  “My love, don’t be surprised if the FBI shows up. The Forest Service is already involved, and they are certain to file a report to federal authorities. You might need help in tracing the artifacts. They’re unlikely to be sold in Arizona, in fact a lot of these looted objects probably get auctioned in Europe.”

  They talked for a few more minutes about other things before going to bed. A huge full moon was on the horizon as Mike shut the bedroom blinds. The moon shadows of the dramatic rock formations of Sedona were prominent from their bedroom window, but the full moon cast too much light for a good night’s sleep. Mike thought that the full moon might have given enough light to dig all night out at the Kinnickinick Pueblo ruin.

  The following morning while they had breakfast, Margaret commented, “If you knew a cougar hung out near your place of work, would you carry a shotgun with double ought shot? Maybe the looters had been there before and seen the cougar prowling around. If they expected to kill witnesses, a pistol is easier to carry.”

  “That’s true. The road into that area is closed all winter, but I guess that wouldn’t keep a man on a snowmobile away. If you were preparing to loot an archeological site, violating the noise rules protecting the pronghorn breeding wouldn’t faze you.”

  After kissing Margaret goodbye, Mike drove to work up beautiful Oak Creek Canyon. The hardwood trees were pale green with new leaves; the creek was higher than normal with snowmelt; the morning was brisk and bright. When he reached his office, there was a note asking him to update Sheriff Taylor and a call to return from FBI Agent Linda Surrett. He first went to see the sheriff.

  “Mike, you seem happy this beautiful morning, possibly because you have a homicide to investigate?”

  “Boss, you understand me too well. It’s been a long dry spell without a real homicide. I don’t know much yet. I’ll go to the autopsy at 10:30 and Jimmy Hendrix should have a report on the ATV tracks today, but we’re just getting started. I notified the parents, and they’re making arrangements to come here. They live in a small Minnesota town near the Canadian border. They were too upset for me to ask many questions when I called them last night. It looks like Paul McFarlane was gut shot with triple or double ought shot and left to die. The cougar merely finished him off more quickly. I’m sure the press will be all over you for comments, but it’s really too early to say much. There was certainly a federal crime of looting artifacts from an archeological site in the national forests. I have a call on my desk from our old friend Linda Surrett.”

  “I doubt the FBI will want to be directly involved. They’ll merely show up to take the credit. I thought Agent Surrett was in the counter-terrorist unit. Why would she call?”

  “I’ll call her back and find out and send you a text or email about whatever she has to say. I’ll need to be at the autopsy, and you know what Dr. Sumter is like if you arrive late.”

  “Oh yeah. That woman ripped me a new one when I interrupted her once during an exam. I’ve never been back. She likes you, but I think you’re the only one in the whole department she is not contemptuous of.” Sheriff Taylor looked like an old west version of a sheriff with a strong jaw, sandy hair, and regular features. He usually wore a white cowboy hat, but he was actually quite smart and always polite and considerate of others in the department. Everyone in the Coconino County Sheriff’s Department respected him.

  “She is good at her job, and we couldn’t afford her if she hadn’t burned her bridges in several larger cities.”

  “There was a brief mention on the local radio station I heard on the way to work this morning, but nothing in the Arizona Republic. I’m sure to get calls.”

  “You can say we are investigating this as a homicide rather than merely an animal attack because of evidence that a shotgun was used to injure the victim, Paul McFarlane of Warroad, Minnesota. Mr. McFarlane was honorably discharged from the US Marines in December, and we believe he was hiking the Arizona Trail across the state when killed. I wouldn’t mention the specific site or that looting was occurring until the Forest Service agrees to release that information. They tend to keep the fact that these sites may contain valuable artifacts a secret. They even had most of the sites removed from topographical maps.”

  Mike went back to his office where Sean Mark was waiting to see him. They discussed the case for a few minutes and agreed to meet at the office of the medical examiner at
10:15. Mike called Agent Surrett.

  “Senior Special Agent Surrett,” she answered.

  “Hi Linda, it’s Mike returning your call. Are you still on the counter-terrorism taskforce? I was surprised to get a call from you.”

  “Yes, I’m still leading the taskforce, but someone higher up thought I would be the best one to call you. Your file at the FBI indicates we’ve worked in coordination several times, so my supervisor asked me to contact you. The FBI is willing to help on this case because artifacts have been removed from the National Forest, but frankly, we’re not anxious to get involved unless you ask for specific help. We have bigger fish to catch than some pothunters who killed a witness. Basically, I was asked to call and say we’ll stay out of your hair unless you request help. I thought I could be the one to bring you the good news. I know you enjoy working homicides and have very few in your jurisdiction.”

  “Thanks Linda. It was good to talk with you. If you get anywhere near Sedona, our guestroom is available, and Margaret would also enjoy seeing you again.”

  “Be safe Mike.” She hung up, and Mike headed for his Explorer to drive over to the medical examiner’s office.

  Chapter 4

  Sean Mark and Mike Damson waited in uncomfortable chairs while Kay Sumter finished her current exam and moved on to the remains of Paul McFarlane. Sean was doing something with his Apple 7 Plus iPhone. Mike only knew how to get the weather and e-mails on his Apple 5. After some effort he learned to use Facebook to see the photos of his grandkids that his son and daughter-in-law posted regularly, but he had yet to post anything to his own account. Most of the information on it seemed unreliable. It wasn’t worth Mike’s effort to decide what was worth reading and what was fake news designed to increase the number of clicks; he usually ignored it all. Whatever Sean was doing was baffling to him. Sean held up the phone for Mike to see. It was a photo of the victim in a hockey uniform.

  Sean said, “McFarlane had a chance to try out for a professional hockey team when he graduated from high school but chose to be a Marine instead. He posted dozens of photos of Afghanistan and Iraq. He fought in both places.” Sean moved on to another photo, “This is his fiancé, Susan Graham.” The photo was of a strikingly beautiful woman in her twenties.

  Mike was surprised at the sharp quality of the photo on Sean’s phone, and he thought about a possible upgrade to the larger phone. His close vision was not as good as it once had been. He replied, “His parents are on their way from Minnesota, but the earliest they can get here is probably tomorrow morning. I hope Kay will release the body after her examination so they can take him home to Minnesota. Sean, I’d like you to contact the victim’s parents to coordinate their visit to Flagstaff. Seth McFarlane’s cell phone is 218 555 5676.” Mike wanted Sean to learn to deal with grieving family members as he had learned in the early years of his career. Mike believed Sean would be excellent at it.

  “I’ll call them after the autopsy and offer my help. It’s something I need to learn, dealing with the next of kin, but I don’t look forward to it. The surprise death of a son in this horrible manner will be difficult for any parent to deal with. Do they know about the cougar?”

  “I only told them that we were treating his death as a homicide, and that predation might make the exact cause of death ambiguous. Until the ME issues her report, I was reluctant to explain my conjecture about blood splatter and facial expression.”

  “Is there any way to spare them that information?”

  “If Kay will give us a preliminary report by tomorrow morning, you could give them that report but without any photos. When they identify the body, everything will be covered except the head. I believe they plan to rent a car in Phoenix and drive up to Flagstaff, but you can help them work out the details of where to stay and when to do the identification.”

  Kay Sumter came out and motioned for Mike to come into the autopsy room. “Dr. Sumter, this is Sean Mark, the newest member of the Criminal Investigation Unit.”

  She gave him a sharp look. “If you behave yourself, you are welcome. My job needs concentration; don’t ask questions or say anything while I’m working. Silence your phone and take no calls. Better yet, turn the damn thing off completely. If you feel sick, there is a green wastebasket for that purpose. This is an especially difficult case so don’t piss me off! Come in, both of you.”

  The next hour and fifteen minutes were silent except for Dr. Sumter talking to a recording device. The procedures were upsetting, but Sean didn’t need the wastebasket and said nothing. Mike was pleased that he had taken Kay’s rules literally; she meant them. One Flagstaff officer had answered a phone during her examination of an auto fatality. She had taken it from his hand and smashed it with a medical hammer before tossing the remains of the cell phone into a bucket of intestines. That officer was permanently banned from the Medical Examiner’s Building.

  After she finished the exam, Dr. Sumter invited Mike and Sean into her office for a ten-minute discussion.

  Mike began by saying, “I assume, the cougar ate away a lot of the tissue that would answer some of our questions.”

  “If this goes to court, I will testify that the cause of death was mountain lion predation after a shotgun wound incapacitated the victim. The defense will claim it was a simple battery or an accidental discharge followed by death by animal attack. They will undoubtedly argue that it was not a premeditated homicide. It will be a real mess with experts on both sides. A conviction for premeditated murder will be almost impossible unless you have a witness willing to testify or you find strong physical evidence. The man was alive and probably conscious when the mountain lion began its meal.”

  “That’s what I thought but hoped was not true. Do you have anything that will help us find the killers?” Mike knew she was correct about going to trial, but he hated to actually hear it from a professional medical examiner.

  “We could probably conclusively identify the cougar with DNA and bite evidence, but the beast was just following its natural instincts. I found only seven triple ought lead shots still in the remains. The rest are probably in the digestive system of the mountain lion. That leaves us with little ability to say what gauge weapon was used or the length of the shell. Even the distance of the shooter from the victim is ambiguous. It was from at least four feet judging by the pellet spread that I was able to observe. The downward angle proves it was not a dropped weapon although it could have been an accidental discharge of someone holding a shotgun.”

  “What else can you tell me about Paul McFarlane?” Mike was not happy with the answers so far, but he would need to deal with the reality of a difficult case without any firm leads.

  “He was a very healthy young man with excellent aerobic capacity and heavy musculature, with less than five percent body fat. X-ray examination of his legs revealed two small metal fragments in his left leg and some minor scarring from fragments that had been removed and the wounds sutured. It’s a classic IED injury, but a relatively minor one that would have been treated as an outpatient procedure. I assume you’ll find a purple heart on his service record. You probably noticed the tattoo and the military boots.”

  Mike nodded hoping for more.

  “Mike, it is extraordinary that this young man was able to crawl the fifteen feet from where he was shot to where he died. I reviewed the crime scene photos. Most people would have gone into shock immediately and be found where they fell from the original wound. It’s difficult to separate the shotgun wound from the mountain lion’s activity post mortem, but there is a good chance that this man was holding his intestines in place while he somehow crawled to that wall. He would have wanted to reach a wall so he could lean against it to make his breathing easier. He was an experienced soldier; he probably knew his wound was fatal even if medical aid had been nearby.”

  Mike nodded. He agreed with her assertion. “His parents will be here tomorrow. So far, they know that there was predation of the body but may assume it was post mortem. I’d like to be
able to give them a preliminary report before you release the body.”

  “I will sign off on releasing the body, but I’ll have no results from the tissue and blood samples I took. I’ll write something for you to give them tonight. It will have a lot of medical jargon without stressing his suffering and without conjecturing if he was conscious. Explaining this manner of death will be difficult, but you’ll have some specific facts in my preliminary report. I’ll e-mail it to you tonight. I saw the photos of his face. I assume they will not be released unless they’re indispensable for an actual trial.”

  “I’m thinking all photos from this case are sensitive and will not be released to the press or the family.”

  “Good.”

  They left her office. “She wasn’t that scary,” Sean said.

  “Her husband is a firefighter at the same station as your older brother Oscar. I think she knows exactly who you are, but that wouldn’t have been much protection if you’d violated her rules. Kay probably also knows about your help in the case of the body of the hunter that we found at Doyle Saddle. This is a small town.”

  “What can I do next?” Sean asked in an eager tone.

  “I’d like you to take two deputies back to Kinnickinick Lake and talk to the campers again. We’re looking for anyone who has been there for several days. That excavation was too large to be done in a single morning. Someone may have seen or heard something during the two days before the body was discovered. Off-road vehicles are prohibited in that area of the forest, and if someone heard three of them arrive, they might remember it. Also, after you question the campers, see if you can find a second campsite near the ruin where the looters might have spent the night. There was a full moon, so they might have been able to dig all night. I think it would take three men at least ten hours to dig that hole plus the trenches they used to locate the burial and collect the artifacts. Maybe it would be even longer if they were careful not to damage any artifacts. If you find any campsites, send for Jimmy Hendrix to examine them for evidence. It’s a long shot, but if you find any recently used camp sites nearby occupied since the snowmelt, they will not be camps made by hunters.”