by Larry Darter
During an altercation inside Turner’s apartment, Hurst allegedly shot Turner in the head, killing him. Hurst told the Key West police he had shot Turner in self-defense, but there was a macabre twist to his story. After killing Turner, Hurst dismembered his corpse using a paring knife and a bow saw. He then packed Turner’s remains into plastic garbage bags and dumped the weighted bags into the Gulf of Mexico.
A man walking his dog spotted the grisly sight of a man’s headless torso floating near the shoreline of a Key West beach and called the authorities. Nearby, police found garbage bags containing human limbs, along with several items detectives traced to an apartment house in their city. Days later, the authorities identified the remains as those of Herbert Turner. The police developed Hurst as a suspect who lived in the apartment across the hall from Turner.
During an interview, Hurst told detectives that he and Turner had a heated argument, and Turner produced a handgun. During the struggle over the gun, it discharged, killing Turner. Hurst told police he panicked and dismembered Turner’s body to dispose of it.
“The Key West police were a little dubious about Hurst’s self-defense claim, given the dismemberment of the corpse,” Dellucci said. “They arrested Hurst and charged him with Turner’s murder.”
“Jesus Christ,” Drew exclaimed. “That guy is a serial killer. Is he still in jail?”
“Nope,” Dellucci said. “Although Hurst provided his correct name to the cops, the Florida authorities didn’t realize who he was, a millionaire heir to a real estate fortune. The judge there set a bond of only three-hundred-thousand. Hurst’s New York attorneys bonded him out the same day they arrested him.”
“Well, guess we won’t get a crack at Hurst until he gets convicted and serves time in Florida,” Drew said.
“If he gets convicted,” Dellucci corrected.
“If?” Drew said incredulously. “I never heard of someone getting off after killing someone and dismembering the body.”
“Stranger things have happened, my friend,” Dellucci said. “It was a little before your time, but I’m sure you’ve heard all about the O.J. trial. You guys had him dead to rights, and he still walked. Hurst’s lead legal counsel here in New York is a guy by the name of Anthony Vecellio. That guy is the second coming of Richard ‘Racehorse’ Haynes. He has a history of routinely snatching acquittals from the jaws of conviction.”
“I still don’t believe Hurst will get acquitted,” Drew said.
“I hope not,” Dellucci said. “I’d be pleased as punch if that murderous fuck goes to prison in Florida, even if it means we never clear his wife’s disappearance.”
“What about the gun?” Drew exclaimed. “Did the Florida cops learn whether it belonged to the victim, like Hurst said, or was it his?”
“They don’t know,” Dellucci said. “But I found out it is a nine-millimeter, a Beretta. That’s the reason I called. Might be worth it for you guys to check it against the bullet you recovered from your vic.”
“Thanks, Dellucci,” Drew said. “I really appreciate the call.”
“Hey, no problem, Drew,” Dellucci said. “Good luck with it. Hope the info does you guys some good.”
Drew got the name and telephone number of the Key West detective from Dellucci before saying goodbye and hanging up. Ortega walked into the squad room as Drew was hanging up the phone.
“Sorry I’m late with the coffee, partner,” Ortega said, handing Drew a Starbucks cup. “There was a crash on the freeway, and traffic this morning was more of a ball-buster than usual.”
“You aren’t going to believe this one,” Drew said excitedly as Ortega took off his jacket and sat down at his desk.
“I won’t believe what?”
“William Hurst has surfaced,” Drew said. “The Key West police arrested him for a murder there.”
“What?”
Drew quickly briefed Ortega on his conversation with Dellucci.
“Well, that would help us if it’s the same gun,” Ortega said. “But I just can’t believe a millionaire like Hurst would hang onto a four-hundred dollar handgun he used in a murder and then use it in another murder.”
“But remember what his brother Roger told me?” Drew said. “He said his brother was the cheapest bastard he had ever known. Maybe Hurst is cheap enough he wouldn’t toss a four-hundred dollar gun.”
“Well, of course, we have to check it out,” Ortega said. “I’m only saying it’s a real long shot.”
“I guess Key West can’t release the weapon to us for ballistics analysis as long as it’s evidence in their case,” Drew mused.
“We don’t need the gun,” Ortega said. “If they recovered the bullet from their victim and they enter it in NIBIN, SID can check it for a match to our bullet.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Drew said.
“That’s because you’re the boot, and I’m the experienced murder cop,” Ortega said with a grin.
“I got the Key West detective’s name Dellucci talked to and his phone number,” Drew said. “I’ll call him right now and make sure their people imaged the bullet and uploaded it to the ATF’s database.”
Drew picked up the phone and made the call while Ortega pulled out the Silverman murder book and updated the chrono with a few notes.
Several minutes later, Drew hung up and rolled his chair back to look at Ortega with a pained expression.
“What?” Ortega said.
“They have no bullet,” Drew said. “They only have Hurst’s story saying the gun discharged during a struggle and the bullet struck Turner in the head. Turner’s head is still outstanding. It’s the only body part Key West hasn’t found yet.”
“This only gets better,” Ortega said ruefully.
“The guy told me he could arrange for their firearms examiner to test-fire the Beretta and send us the spent bullet if we send them a written request.”
“Okay, why don’t get started on that,” Ortega said.
“Then what?”
“If the slim chance pays off, and we get a match for our bullet,” Ortega said, “then we’ll put the file together with what we have to date. We’ll take it to the deputy district attorney and see if he thinks we have enough for an arrest warrant. That’s all we can do. You know Hurst’s attorneys aren’t ever going to allow us to interview Hurst unless we arrest him.”
Drew nodded. “We can put Hurst in Garberville three days before Silverman’s murder and prove Hurst took a late flight out of San Francisco to New York on the night she died. And he lied to us, saying he hadn’t been in California since the summer before Silverman’s death.”
“So we have opportunity covered, even though it’s based on circumstantial evidence that’s a little thin,” Ortega said.
“And, we have a plausible motive,” Drew said. “Hurst wanted to tie up loose ends by making sure Silverman didn’t cooperate with the New York investigators after they reopened his wife’s case. Not to mention, Roger Hurst told me he believed Silverman was squeezing his brother for money, and his brother would never have allowed that to continue.”
“So, if we hit the jackpot and get a match on the bullets, then we have means,” Ortega said. “Not saying we have near enough for a conviction yet, but that might be probable cause enough for an arrest warrant.”
“And, the fact he has killed someone and dismembered the body is the icing on the cake,” Drew said with a laugh.
“You think?” Ortega said, also bursting into laughter.
“Rudy?”
Ortega looked up and saw Lieutenant Walsh standing in her office doorway. He looked over at Drew and said, “Come on, Youngblood.”
The two detectives headed to Walsh’s office.
“What’s up?” Ortega said as they entered the office.
“What was so funny?” Walsh said as she closed the door.
“We’re just happy to be here, LT,” Ortega said in amusement.
“Uh-huh,” Walsh said as she sat down behind her desk.
&
nbsp; Drew and Ortega took seats in front of the desk.
“I just wanted to tell you both that was good work clearing the Henry case,” Walsh said.
“Just doing our jobs,” Ortega said before Drew got thanks out. “We were coming to see you, anyway. We’ve got an update on the Silverman case for you. William Hurst has surfaced.”
“Oh?” Walsh said with interest.
“I’ll let Drew fill you in,” Ortega said, turning to his partner.
Drew briefed Walsh on Hurst’s arrest in Florida.
“He dismembered the guy?” Walsh said in amazement.
Drew nodded. “And the victim’s head remains at large.”
“Jesus,” Walsh said with a shudder.
Ortega took over and told Walsh they needed her signature on an official request to the Key West police to test-fire the gun from their murder.
“You really think it is going to be the same weapon?” Walsh said.
“Honestly, I think that’s wishful thinking,” Ortega said. “But I think we have to check it out.”
Walsh nodded. “Yes, I agree,” she said. “Anything else?”
Ortega laid out the plan to consult with the deputy district attorney to see if he thought a judge would sign an arrest warrant for Hurst if they got a match on the bullets.
“You think that would be enough for probable cause?” Walsh said.
“We think it might,” Ortega said. “If Hurst takes the fall on the Florida murder charge, we will have plenty of time to work on shoring up the weak spots in our case. Hurst’s attorneys will only continue stonewalling us until we have the leverage to use to get an interview with Hurst.”
“Guess it won’t hurt to try,” Walsh said. “Keep me posted.” Turning to Drew, she said, “Get that request to me once you’ve typed it up.”
Drew nodded. “Will do. ”
“Okay, gentlemen,” Walsh said. “Back to work.”
Chapter 32
Two weeks after the Florida authorities arrested William Hurst, Drew and Ortega got a call from a criminalist at the LAPD Firearms Analysis Unit. The examinations and comparisons of microscopic markings on the test-fired bullet and cartridge case the Key West police had provided showed they failed to match the projectile and cartridge case from Silverman’s murder.
“We’re dead in the water again, Youngblood,” Ortega said.
“We always knew it was a long shot,” Drew said. “But it’s disappointing.”
“What we need is a handwriting sample from Hurst,” Ortega said. “If he killed Silverman, he wrote and mailed the cadaver note. But Hurst’s attorneys won’t allow him to give us a sample.”
“Wait,” Drew said. “Might be another long shot, but I have an idea.”
Drew picked up the phone and dialed the Key West detective he’d spoken with previously.
“This is Drew at LAPD, again,” he said when the Florida detective came on the line. “By chance, did you guys get any handwritten statements from Hurst when you interviewed him?”
“Yes, we did,” the detective said. “He wrote a statement explaining his self-defense assertion. Why?”
“We need a sample of Hurst’s handwriting to compare to a document that’s evidence in our case we believe he wrote,” Drew said. “You think you could send us that statement?”
“The original?”
“Yes, we need the original for the comparison.”
“I’ll have to check with my supervisor,” the detective said. “Let me call you back.”
Drew thanked the detective and hung up.
“Key West has a handwritten statement Hurst provided,” Drew said to Ortega. The detective there I’ve been talking with might be able to send it to us. He has to clear it with his supervisor, and then he will call me back.”
“Huh,” Ortega said. “That might work.”
Fifteen minutes later, the Key West detective called back. He told Drew his supervisor signed off on the request, and he would overnight the document to the LAPD. Drew asked the detective to attach an affidavit stating he witnessed Hurst writing and signing the statement. Drew hung and did a fist pump.
“We should have a sample of Hurst’s handwriting tomorrow,” he said.
“That might put us back on track to get an arrest warrant,” Ortega said.
* * *
Ten days after Drew and Ortega delivered Hurst’s handwritten statement to the FAU Questioned Documents Unit, an LAPD handwriting analyst concluded that a match between Hurst’s handwriting on the statement given to the Key West police and the cadaver note and envelope was a “probable Identification.” While less than positive identification, probable identification was still a strong conclusion showing the combination of similarities pointed strongly to one writer with no fundamental differences, leaving only a theoretical possibility that the author of the cadaver note was someone other than Hurst.
Confident that William Hurst would soon occupy a cell in a Florida state prison, Drew and Ortega put the Silverman case aside once again when they caught another murder case.
* * *
It was three-fifteen in the afternoon when Drew and Ortega got to Venice. Ortega squeezed the unmarked Crown Vic into an unoccupied space at the curb on one of the little streets near the canals. Drew had not been to the canals in many years.
The scene was a small bungalow of white clapboard with an open porch overlooking the joining of two canals. A Pacific Division uniformed officer stood outside the yellow and black crime scene tape blocking access to the house. Beyond the tape, the detectives saw a second officer on the porch outside the front door.
“Ortega and Drew, West Bureau,” Ortega said.
The patrol officer nodded and lifted the tape. “Jensen has the log at the front door, Detectives.”
Ortega and Drew proceeded up the walkway and stepped up onto the porch. The boards creaked, revealing the porch was old. While many bungalows like this one had once existed in Venice, Drew knew developers had long since torn them down and replaced them with modern two and three-story homes valued in the millions of dollars. After both detectives signed the access log, they entered the open front door.
The living room had a definite beach vibe about it, right down to the bamboo and rattan furnishings and a surfboard in a corner. SID technicians were busily processing the scene, and a coroner’s investigator examined the nude body of a young woman lying on a couch in the living room.
“Don Salazar,” Ortega said to the coroner’s investigator. “Long time no see.”
“Rudy,” Salazar said, turning to look at the detective. “Who is that you have with you.”
“My new partner, Howard Drew,” Ortega said. “Howie, meet Don Salazar.”
The two men nodded to each other, and Salazar went back to examining the body.
“What’ve we got?” Ortega said.
“The victim is a 23-year-old female with finger-pad contusions on the anterior and lateral aspects of the neck and petechiae on her upper eyelids and the gum line,” Salazar said. There are numerous bruises on her back, shoulders, and the soft tissue of her anterior thighs, left forearm, and lateral right upper arm. It looks like someone beat the hell out of her and then strangled her.”
“How long has she been down?”
“Rough estimate, I’d say this young lady died forty-eight to seventy-two hours ago.”
“Got a name?”
“Yeah,” Salazar said, reaching for a notebook on top of his plastic tool kit. “Sienna Mills. A California license and a SAG card were in her purse.”
“Another actor,” Ortega said.
“Yeah,” Salazar said.
SAG-AFTRA, the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists, was the union representing performers and media professionals who worked in film and digital motion pictures, television, commercials, video games, television, and radio news outlets. They also represented major label recording artists. With an annual initiation fee of three-thousand-dollars, possessin
g a SAG card signified someone established in the entertainment business.
“Who found her?” Ortega said.
Salazar looked at his notebook again. “A couple of actor friends, a husband and wife,” he said. “Nathan Payne and Skye Alexander. They left before I arrived. Get the details from the patrol guys outside.”
Ortega nodded. “Drew, look around and see if you can find her phone or an address book. I’ll get the story on the friends from the patrol guys.”
Drew nodded and started searching. Ortega went outside.
“What’s the story on the friends who discovered the body?” Ortega asked the officer on the door whose silver nameplate identified him as A. Jensen.
“They were here when we arrived,” Jensen said. “They were both pretty upset. So, after we got their contact info and statements, our supervisor cut them loose.”
“What did they have to say?”
“The victim had dinner with them three nights ago,” Jensen said. “They said she didn’t seem herself. When she was leaving, they asked her to call them in a day or two, but she never did. They became more concerned when they didn’t hear from her today either, and she didn’t answer her phone. So they came over to check on her. No response when they knocked. The door was closed but unlocked. They went in and found her dead on the couch.”
“Have you got their contact info?”
“Yeah,” Jensen said, pulling a notebook out of his uniform shirt pocket. He ripped out a page and handed it to Ortega.
“What did you find when you made the scene?”
“Back door and windows were all locked,” Jensen said. “No signs of forcible entry.”
“Thanks, Jensen,” Ortega said. He turned and went back inside.
“The phone was in the bedroom,” Drew said, holding up an iPhone. “I found no address book.”
“Yeah, no one has address books anymore,” Ortega said. “Phone password protected, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” Drew said. “But it has the facial recognition feature. I held the screen up to her face and got into it. I copied down all the recent calls and her contact list since it automatically locks when the screen goes dark.”
