The interview went on for another half hour. By the time the empty coffee containers were in the trash, I had a few leads to follow up and no connections that would explain why Calhoun had been tortured or what anyone could have wanted from him.
Conklin and I met with the long-timer, Calhoun’s partner Kyle Robertson. Along with Calhoun, we’d met Robertson during the canvass after Maya Perez had been killed.
Robertson was maybe fifty, but he looked older. His face was heavily lined and his hair was gray, thin, combed over. He was eager to help, but could only say he was torn up by the killings. That nothing Calhoun had ever said to him would lead him to think he had anything worth killing him for.
“It’s a complete mystery,” Robertson said. “I can’t make a thing out of it.”
Conklin said, “Narco has been working some street crimes, looking for some cops who might be taking money and drugs off dealers. Could Calhoun have been a part of that?”
Robertson shook his head vigorously.
“He was just a regular guy. If he hadn’t become a cop, he could have been a firefighter or a high school coach. I never heard him talk about money. He smoked cigarettes, but that’s the only addiction he had. Ask me, this bloodbath was entirely senseless. Maybe the killers went to the wrong house and killed the wrong people. Crazier things have happened.”
CHAPTER 55
CONKLIN AND I went to Brady’s office with our fat notepads and thin theories.
We had interviewed the Calhouns’ neighbors, who had been sleeping last night when the Calhouns were being tortured and shot. They’d seen nothing and heard nothing and were completely shocked and very frightened.
We had also interviewed cops who’d worked with Calhoun, and they, too, were in utter disbelief. Calhoun was a good cop. He loved his job, maybe too much. They chalked that up to his youth and romantic nature. We told Brady that the three cops who knew him best, Swanson, Vasquez, and Robertson, had no clue as to why he and his family would have been tortured and slain.
Brady listened to what we told him, then said, “Here’s where I’m at. In the last two weeks, there’ve been more robbery and narcotics-related homicides than in the entire last year.”
He put a piece of paper on the desk and turned it so Conklin and I could see his handwritten list of the crimes that had taken place in our division in the last two weeks. Brady stabbed the list as he read it out loud.
“The first two check-cashing-store holdups, one fatality.
“A mercado robbery with a murdered shop owner.
“Another check-cashing-store holdup, and this time, there are three dead, would-be robbers in SFPD Windbreakers. Turns out, they’re not cops. They’re idiots, copycats who’ve heard about the Windbreaker cops but don’t know how to pull off any kind of robbery.
“Here. A takedown of a drug factory, seven dead. Possible sighting of a Windbreaker cop.
“This is from Narcotics,” Brady said. “Six drug dealers, that they know about, have been shot and robbed in crack houses and on the street. The word is that cops are doing it. It’s a random pattern, but a pattern nonetheless.”
Conklin and I nodded like bobbleheads.
Brady went on.
“Probably a shitload of drugs was stolen from Wicker House. Could have been worth millions. Somebody could be in a rage about that. Makes me think an organized crew has put on SFPD Windbreakers as an inside joke.
“And the joke is working. The crew disguises themselves as cops. And they’re into drug house takedowns and cash-rich robbery opportunities. It’s almost like this is an act of war, cops versus drug thugs. And I wonder if Kingfisher is somehow involved in this. He has his fingers in everything. He can be very violent. Read up on him. Sickening stuff. Torture for fun. Sadism. Keep Kingfisher in mind.”
Kingfisher was a notorious drug lord, said to be based in Southern California, though no one knew for sure. But evidence of his manufacturing and distribution enterprise was widespread. Was this big-time player somehow involved in small-time takedowns in San Francisco?
Brady wasn’t done. He pushed his fingers through his hair. He looked at his computer screen and pressed some keys.
I thought maybe he’d forgotten about us. But then he was saying, “Maybe I’m just trying to make sense of unrelated incidents by making lists, turning the pieces around, hoping they’ll fit. Or maybe there’s something happening here that we can’t quite see.
“We don’t stop until we know.”
PART TWO
CHAPTER 56
COURTROOM 5A WAS small, paneled in cherry-wood with matching cherry benches, tables, and chairs. The judge had turned to speak to his clerk. Behind him was the golden seal of the State of California flanked by two flags: the Stars and Stripes and the California state flag.
The room was full, but court was not yet in session. Yuki and her second chair, Natalie Futterman, sat behind their counsel table. Yuki skimmed the notes in front of her, rehearsing her opening lines in her mind like a mantra.
Beside her, Natalie whispered, “I can’t wait.”
Yuki said, “I can. I may be a pit bull, but he’s a lion, Nat. An angry one.”
Natalie said, “New thought for a new day.”
“Do not tweet that,” Yuki said.
Yuki wished she felt as excited as Natalie. Her eager second chair was a forty-six-year-old recent graduate of law school. Her kids were out of the house. Her husband had left her. And Natalie finally had the degree in law she’d put off twenty-five years ago. She was sharp, bookish, organized, had passed the bar on the first try, and was ready for prime time. Or as Natalie had put it, “You can only learn so much in a classroom.”
Natalie had nothing to lose but her novice status.
Yuki, on the other hand, had a pretty substantial reputation at stake, and if she lost this case, she would be known for it: Kordell v. City of San Francisco. Yuki Castellano. She sued the SFPD and they destroyed her.
Across the aisle, the defense looked as calm as still waters. Len Parisi, Red Dog himself, filled the chair on the aisle. Sitting next to him were two partners from Moorehouse and Rogers, one of whom was the legendary Collins Rappaport as second chair. Parisi, as co-counsel to the law firm, would be first chair, and he would be doing hand-to-hand combat with her.
Yuki had dressed in red today. It was a big color that required big action. You couldn’t equivocate in red. You had to go for the jugular, and that was her plan.
Strike first. Strike hard.
Natalie wore almost-matching black separates, a jacket and pants that had probably come from a consignment shop twenty years before. But that was OK. The two of them were representing the victims here. They were the lawyers for the poor and the unfairly persecuted, and Natalie looked the part.
Parisi’s suit was moss green and made him look like a heart attack ready to happen.
Yuki smiled to herself.
Whatever helped her through the fight.
She and Natalie had worked hard prepping for this trial and had spent two days just going over her opening statement. She knew what she had to do and what she had to say; if she rehearsed anymore, her impassioned true feelings for the Kordell family would sound overly rehearsed.
She didn’t want that.
Yuki was deep in her thoughts when she felt a touch on her shoulder. She turned to see Mrs. Kordell giving her a teary smile. Yuki squeezed her hand and smiled at the rest of the Kordell family seated behind her, about eleven people all told.
Yuki was here today for them: for Bea and Mickey Kordell and for Aaron-Rey’s grandfather, cousins, and friends, who were counting on her to bring justice to Aaron-Rey’s name.
She turned to the front of the room as Judge John G. Quirk finished speaking to the clerk.
She liked Judge Quirk. Despite the miserable people he’d dealt with in his twenty years on the bench, she’d found him to be kind. In chambers, he showed that he had an understanding of impulses and frailties of character.
&n
bsp; Would that generosity of spirit work for or against her?
And now the bailiff announced that court was in session. She watched as the jury came in through a side door and took seats in the box. She wished she could have gotten more than one person of color on the jury, but it was what it was. Judge Quirk welcomed the jury and spent a little time giving them instructions and answering questions. Then he turned his bespectacled eyes on her.
“Ms. Castellano. Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Go get ’em,” Natalie said, her voice carrying in the lull.
There was a smattering of laughter. Yuki pushed back her chair and, propelled by an adrenaline rush, walked to the lectern in the center of the well.
CHAPTER 57
AS YUKI STOOD behind the lectern, she felt warm all over, her heart and adrenal glands giving her a little more rush than she actually needed. But she composed herself and lifted her eyes and said to the jurors, “Good morning, everyone.
“I represent the family of Aaron-Rey Kordell, a fifteen-year-old boy with a below-average IQ who was arrested, then bullied by two very experienced police officers who deprived this young man of sleep for sixteen hours, lied to him about his right to counsel, and induced him to confess to a crime he did not commit. After being coerced into giving a false confession, Aaron-Rey was incarcerated and was murdered while awaiting trial.
“Why was Aaron-Rey coerced? Why did he have to die?
“Because the police had no witnesses, but they had a suspect, and they were going to make sure they nailed him. Which they did.”
Yuki paused to make sure she had the jurors’ attention. Then she continued.
“Here’s what happened in February of this year.
“Aaron-Rey was hanging out at the neighborhood crack house after school. If he had lived in a different neighborhood, maybe he would have spent after-school hours in the gym or at a friend’s house. But this crack house was a block from where he lived with his parents, and to him, it was where he waited until his folks came home from work.
“You will hear from witnesses who will tell you that Aaron-Rey didn’t use drugs. He just liked to be around the big boys at that house, who teased him and made him laugh and sent him out for cigarettes and treated him like a mascot.
“On this particular day, Aaron-Rey was on the top floor of the drug house at 463 Dodge Place when unknown persons robbed and killed three drug dealers on the floor below, then fled the scene, along with all the other people who were in the house at that time.
“Aaron-Rey had an IQ of seventy, which is thirty points below average. He was functional, and he was also exceptionally inquisitive, trusting, and childlike.
“After this shooting occurred and the scores of people ran down the stairs, Aaron-Rey also ran. As he told the police and others, he was on his way out of the house when he found a gun on the stairs, which he stuck into the waistband of his pants, like the big boys do. He had this gun in his possession as he ran east on Turk, a very scared and freaked-out boy of fifteen.
“Two patrolmen in a cruiser witnessed Aaron-Rey running along Turk Street. They turned on their lights and sirens and ran their car up on the sidewalk, after which they tackled Aaron-Rey to the ground.
“And what did Aaron-Rey say, ladies and gentlemen?
“He said, ‘I didn’t do it.’ You will hear these patrolmen tell you that when they asked him what he didn’t do, Aaron-Rey said he didn’t shoot the three men in the drug house.
“Aaron-Rey was brought into the police station for questioning, where two senior narcotics detectives seized on an opportunity to close three homicides in the easiest possible way. Aaron-Rey was slow. And he was gullible. And he was under arrest.
“Over half the day and most of the night, Aaron-Rey Kordell repeatedly denied shooting anyone. But as you will see on the video, Inspectors Whitney and Brand convinced Aaron-Rey to waive his right to counsel and to having his parents present. They bullied, cajoled, and flat-out lied until this boy, by now helplessly confused, finally said, ‘I did it.’
“Once Aaron-Rey made this false admission, he was jailed pending trial and was subsequently murdered in the showers. We can only hope that he died quickly and that he wasn’t in pain.
“This is Aaron-Rey,” Yuki said, holding up a photo of her dead client cuddling with his baby sister. He had been a handsome young man, and the expression on his face showed his affection for his sister.
Yuki said, “Aaron-Rey was sweet. He was innocent. And he could not, did not, kill three hardened crack dealers. He didn’t know how to load and shoot a gun, and the defense will not say otherwise. Furthermore, during all those hours of interrogation, the police never tested Aaron-Rey’s hands or clothes for gunpowder residue. The police did not bring in any of the habitués of that drug house for questioning and did not consider any other suspects. Aaron-Rey was the only one they needed.
“At the end of this trial, you’re going to be asked to decide if Aaron-Rey Kordell’s confession was coerced. If it was coerced, it wasn’t a confession, and you must hold the SFPD and the City of San Francisco accountable for this innocent boy’s cruel, unwarranted, and untimely death.”
CHAPTER 58
PARISI GOT HEAVILY to his feet and, ignoring the lectern, walked directly to the jury box. He smiled, greeted the jurors, and said a few words about how important jury duty was, adding that as the district attorney for the City of San Francisco, he could not do his job without good people deciding verdicts in trials like this one. He noted how important it was to make sure that justice was always done.
Yuki watched him perform, her mind splitting between her good feelings toward Len Parisi—based on five years of working with him, learning from him, and supporting him in her capacity as an assistant DA—and the other side of her brain, which was not yet accustomed to thinking of Len as her enemy, which he surely was.
Furthermore, Len’s calm and personable demeanor made her feel that her own presentation had been borderline hysterical.
Even Natalie seemed transfixed by Red Dog.
Len put his hand on the railing and walked along it, making eye contact with the jurors as he said, “I have to commend opposing counsel for presenting such a pretty picture of Aaron-Rey Kordell, but I’m very sorry to say, that’s not who he was.
“Aaron-Rey was hanging around at a crack house for the same reason anyone goes to a crack house. He used drugs. He didn’t just go there after school. He went there instead of going to school. At least, he did most days.
“And I have to say, Ms. Castellano has no idea whether Aaron-Rey picked up the murder weapon on the stairs as he was leaving the crack house, or whether he picked up the gun inside the crack house, or whether someone gave him a few bucks and told him, ‘Here’s a gun, Aaron-Rey. Shoot those dudes,’ so that’s what he did. I think the crack house closed-circuit TV cameras were down that day.”
The jurors laughed. Yes, he was winning them over.
Len continued, “No one has come forward to say that they saw what went down inside that crack house, and no one ever will. I will agree with Ms. Castellano that a gunshot residue test was not performed on Aaron-Rey. That was a mistake. But what Ms. Castellano didn’t tell you is that the bullets that killed those three men came from the gun in Aaron-Rey’s pants.
“We will put the gun into Mr. Kordell’s hand, and there will be no question at all, no dispute, that he had the gun in his possession. He had the murder weapon on his person. He ran. And he told the officers who pulled him in that he had not killed three people in the drug house, and then he named them.
“The police officers asked him where he got the gun, and he said he found it. And they found three dead men and they arrested Aaron-Rey Kordell—of course they did. That was their job.
“So, you might ask, how did Aaron-Rey get that gun? Well, he’s not around to tell us now, and it doesn’t matter how he got it. It was the murder weapon, and when he had the chance to tell us wh
at happened in that crack house, he told the narcotics investigators that he killed A. Biggy and Duane and Dubble D.
“But this trial is not about where the gun came from or who shot those drug dealers. It is also not about who killed Aaron-Rey Kordell.
“As Ms. Castellano said, this trial is only about one thing: Did Inspectors Stanley Whitney and William Brand from Narcotics coerce Aaron-Rey into making a false confession?
“We say they did not.
“Did they use legitimate interview techniques? Yes, they did. Did they lie? Very likely. An interview in a police station is like a lying competition where both parties lie and bluff and do whatever they can to get the other party to believe them.
“It’s legal for police to lie.
“And when we show you clips from the interview, you are going to see that this young man was cool, calm, and collected and that he confessed to murdering three men.
“So when he confessed, Inspectors Brand and Whitney put him in jail, where he belonged, because killers shouldn’t be loose on the street.
“Aaron-Rey was in jail awaiting his speedy trial, as was his right as an American, when an incredibly unfortunate incident happened.
“And we’re sorry for the pain of Aaron-Rey’s family.
“But Aaron-Rey’s death was not the fault of the San Francisco Police Department.”
CHAPTER 59
THE FUNERAL OF the Calhoun family was held at Cypress Lawn Memorial Park in Colma. It was one of the most emotionally devastating events I’d ever attended.
Marie Calhoun’s father, Tom Calhoun’s father, the boys’ Little League coach, and their homeroom teacher all gave eulogies. The SFPD was also represented at the service by Chief Jacobi, Sergeant Phil Pikelny from Robbery, and Inspector Ted Swanson, who choked out a few words about “what a good kid” Calhoun had been.
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