Books agreed with that assessment but had sufficient common sense not to say it. “Look on the bright side Charley. You can do what everybody else around here does—blame the federal government.”
“Somehow, that’s not very comforting, J.D. By the way, congratulations for pissing off Lamont Christensen this morning—just what we needed right now, an ass-reaming in the local newspaper. But that’ll have to be your problem. You can bet he couldn’t wait to get on the phone to your boss and tell her you suggested he go piss up a rope.”
Sutter was right about that, Books thought. “I didn’t exactly tell him to go piss up a rope.”
Sutter stopped pacing and sat down at his desk. “I know what you told him. Now let’s get down to business. These artifacts you found in the back of Bobby’s truck, you’re sure they came from Rolly’s collection?”
“Positive,” said Tanner. “We matched them to the photographs we have of the collection.”
“Get Melissa Esplin down here right away and have her take a look at them. I want somebody from the family to be absolutely sure before we go off half-cocked trying to tie Bobby Case to the Rogers fiasco.”
“I’ll get right on it, Sheriff,” said Tanner.
“See that you do. Has Bobby had anything to say about any of this?”
“Nope. I Mirandized him before we brought him in, and he told me the only person he’d talk to was J.D.”
“That opportunity may be long gone, Charley,” countered Books. “I think when I showed up, Bobby figured I’d fix things and he wouldn’t end up arrested.”
Sutter paused, thinking about what Books had just said. “Suppose you don’t arrest him today. Suppose we release him and you tell him that federal prosecutors will review the matter and decide whether to bring criminal charges.”
“Are you out of your mind, Charley?” snapped Books. “Are you forgetting this is no longer simply an illegal digging case? God knows I wish it wasn’t true, but Bobby had in his possession antiquities belonging to a couple who most likely are dead.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” countered Sutter.
Books shook his head, wondering if the sheriff really believed that or was suffering from a serious case of self-delusion. Either way, Sutter’s proposal might help him politically but would leave Books in an untenable position with his BLM supervisors.
“Think what you’re asking me to do, Charley. BLM policy is clear on this. I’m required to arrest him, family member or not, and book him into the Washington County Jail in St. George. A federal magistrate imposes bail, and when it’s paid, he’s back on the street. Imagine how it would look if I agreed to ignore the policy and released a family member pending review of the case by a prosecutor. How would I explain it? Never mind what Lamont Christensen would say about it.”
Sutter took that in listening thoughtfully. A voice on the office intercom broke the silence. “Sheriff, Doug Case is on line two—says it’s urgent.”
“Shit,” said Sutter. “Somebody must have leaked it because we haven’t let Bobby near a telephone.”
“It didn’t come from us,” said Books.
“Good afternoon, Doug. How can I help you?” A blast of sound echoed from the receiver.
“Yes, sir. I’m afraid he was.”
Books and Tanner glanced at each other. The decimal level, courtesy of Doug Case, was definitely elevated, and Sutter looked like a man dancing on hot coals. Mercifully, the call lasted less than two minutes. When it was over, Sutter leaned back in his leather chair and placed his worn cowboy boots on the desk. He looked completely defeated.
“He’ll be here in a matter of minutes, and he’s not happy.”
No kidding, thought Books. He eased his six-foot-three inch frame off the sofa, “Stall him for a few minutes, Charley. I’m going try to get a statement from Bobby.”
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
“Maybe not, but I’m doing it anyway.”
Books met Bobby Case in an interview room next to the booking area of the jail. “It’s about time,” said Case. “How long do I have to stay here?”
“Bobby, you’re in a mountain of trouble. I hope you can help me sort it out. Deputy Tanner advised you of your rights. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any questions about them?’
“Is this really necessary, J.D.?”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Then, no, I don’t have any questions.”
“Look, Bobby, I’m not going to waste time. Let’s cut to the chase. I’m more concerned about the relics we found in your truck. Those antiquities came directly from the home of Rolly and Abby Rogers, and I guess I don’t have to tell you that they’ve gone missing. Where did you get that stuff?”
“Wait a minute. If you’re insinuating I had something to do with whatever has happened to the Rogers, that’s a boldface lie.”
“Okay. Then answer my question. Where did you get those relics?”
“I bought ’em, okay? From a Navajo kid—I don’t know his name.”
Joe Benally, thought Books.
“If you don’t know who this kid is, how did you meet him?”
“Through a third party, and I ain’t gonna tell you who.”
“Shit, Bobby. I need that name.”
“Well, I ain’t givin’ it to you. He’s a friend of mine and I’m not going to get him involved.”
“Would you recognize the Navajo kid if I showed you a picture?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Books dug through his file and produced a mug shot of Joe Benally. “Is this the guy?”
Case hardly glanced at the picture. “Yeah, that’s him.”
There was a rap on the door. “J.D., I need to see you for a moment.” When Books stepped into the hall, Tanner told him that an angry Doug Case was in the jail lobby demanding to see his son immediately.
“Stall him for another minute. Tell him I’ll be right out to talk with him.”
“Make it quick. He’s making a scene in the lobby that’s giving Charley fits.”
Books nodded and returned to the interview room. “Look me in the eye, brother, and tell me you had nothing to do with whatever’s happened to Rolly and Abby Rogers.”
Bobby leaned forward in his chair, tears in his eyes. “I swear, J.D., I don’t know nothing about what happened to them, and if I’d had any idea those pots and baskets came from their house, I never would have bought them. You got to believe me.”
“All right, Bobby, I’ve got one last question. Why the hell were you out there digging in the first place? You know it’s illegal.”
He wiped tears from his cheeks before answering. “For the money, J.D., I did it for the money. We’re gonna lose the ranch if something doesn’t change soon. I’m sure of it.”
***
Books found Doug Case and Charley Sutter in the sheriff’s conference room looking equally agitated.
“There had better be a damn good explanation for what’s going on here, J.D.,” said Case.
“It probably won’t make you happy,” said Books, “but let me tell you what we know.”
Books spent the next ten minutes summarizing for Doug Case the events of the past several hours. Case listened intently and without interruption, something Books read as a positive sign. To Books’ irritation, the sheriff interrupted periodically, placing his own spin on the day’s events. By the time he had finished, Case had calmed down significantly and sounded more like the smooth politician Books had long admired.
“I want you both to know,” said Case, “that I have no problem philosophically with the idea of people pot-hunting. It’s been a part of the local culture for as long as I can remember. That said there’s been no tradition of pot-hunting in my fa
mily. I didn’t do it, and I never encouraged my kids to.”
“That’s why it makes no sense to me that Bobby would get mixed up in something like this,” said Sutter.
“What happens now?” asked Case.
For purely political reasons, the sheriff wanted Bobby Case released immediately and with as little fanfare as possible. Books understood this. He explained to Doug Case the federal government’s protocol in cases like this one.
Glancing from Sutter to Books, Case said, “And you’re telling me that you’re unable to make an exception. Surely, there must be something we can do.”
The “something” Case referred to turned out to be a courtesy booking at the Kane County Jail. Books phoned the Federal Magistrate’s Office in St. George and received permission for Bobby to be booked and released from the jail in Kanab, averting the eighty-three mile drive to St. George. One hour later, Case walked out of the Kane County Jail accompanied by his father. He had been fingerprinted and photographed, and his family had posted $2,500 cash bail.
Chapter Nineteen
Books left the sheriff’s department minutes after the release of his brother-in-law. When he arrived at his office, he found three voice messages. Two were marked urgent. The first was from his boss, Monument Manager Alexis Runyon. “Call me ASAP, J.D. I have a message from Lamont Christensen asking me to return his call. He went on a rant about you. I’d like your version of events before I talk to him.”
Sutter had been correct, thought Books. It hadn’t taken Christensen long to make the call. He’d acted like an idiot with the newspaper editor, and Christensen was going to have some fun at Books’ expense. He dialed Runyon’s extension, hoping he’d get lucky and find her out of the office. She didn’t answer, and he left a lengthy message explaining his side of things and offering a lame apology for his behavior.
The second message had come from Becky Eddins. To her credit, Eddins understood the importance of her new client, Joe Benally, in resolving the disappearance of the Rogers. She sounded all business and suggested a meeting in her office. She asked that District Attorney Virgil Bell attend. Books suspected they were about to find out the price Eddins would exact in exchange for her client’s cooperation. A deal was in the works. He could smell it.
The other message came from Sergeant Dan Walker of the Four Corners Task Force offering the assistance of his unit. Books was anxious to talk to Walker for a couple of reasons. He wanted information on any cases similar to the Rogers disappearance in the Four Corners area. Equally important, he wanted any intelligence the task force had about the mysterious group of Native American cops who patrolled federal lands in search of artifact looters. That call, however, would have to wait.
District Attorney Virgil Bell finished a misdemeanor arraignment calendar and hurried from the courtroom to join Books in the reception area outside Becky Eddins’ office. She kept them waiting about ten minutes before opening the door and motioning them in. They sat at a rectangular oak conference table, empty except for a yellow legal- sized note pad.
She got right down to business. “What are you prepared to offer my client in return for his cooperation?”
“Depends on how much he knows and how deeply he’s involved in the whole mess,” replied Bell.
“He knows a lot, and unless you’re about to break the case wide open on your own, I think you’re going to need his help.”
In a moment of awkward silence, Books and Bell glanced at each other. Their look of desperation was all the opening Eddins needed.
“I thought as much. Here is what I’m prepared to take to Mr. Benally for his consideration. He pleads guilty to one third-degree felony count of possession of stolen property and that’s it. He’s not to be charged with any additional offenses, state or federal, and I’ll want the plea agreement in writing. In return, he tells you everything he knows about the burglary, the stolen artifacts, and the disappearance of the Rogerses.”
“Depending on what he knows, he might also have to be a witness for the prosecution,” said Bell. “That has to be part of any deal.”
“Agreed,” replied Eddins.
Bell sat quietly mulling over the offer from Eddins. Then he said, “Would you excuse us for a moment, Becky? I’d like a minute with Ranger Books.”
“Sure. I’ll be out in the reception area. Give me a shout when you’re ready.” She left.
“Well, what do you think?”
“You’re the DA. It’s gonna have to be your call. Negotiating plea deals isn’t in my job description. Tanner and I pretty well have Benally wrapped up on the possession of stolen property and burglary charges, but as you know, we’re nowhere close to finding out what happened to Rolly and Abby.”
Bell leaned back in his chair, biting his lower lip, a nervous habit Books had seen before when the man was under pressure. “It’s one thing to cut a deal with a thief but quite another to do it with someone who’s involved in a kidnapping and maybe even murder.”
“Happened every day in Denver. Besides, we don’t know for sure whether he’s involved in the disappearance or not.”
“What’s the likelihood he isn’t?”
“Point taken.”
They called Eddins back into the office. Bell had made his decision. “Here’s what I’m prepared to offer. At the appropriate time, your client pleads guilty to one count of second-degree burglary, and I’ll move to dismiss the possession of stolen property charge.”
“Wait a minute,” said Eddins, “he hasn’t even been charged with burglary.”
“He’s about to be,” countered Bell. “I just learned this afternoon in a phone call with the sheriff’s office that your client’s fingerprints were found at the Rogers home.”
Bell continued. “The people would further stipulate that no additional state charges would be brought against Mr. Benally in exchange for his full and complete cooperation. He must agree to become a prosecution witness should we require his testimony. If we find that your client has deliberately withheld information or lied to us, the deal is off.”
“What about federal charges?” asked Eddins.
“I have no control over that. The U.S. Attorney’s Office will have to make that decision.”
“Not good enough. I’m not going to allow my client to plead on state charges unless I have assurances from federal prosecutors that they intend to honor our agreement. If you can straighten that out, I’ll take your offer to Mr. Benally.”
Books admired her grit. She’d driven Bell into a corner and was playing hardball. “Look, let’s not allow the deal to go up in flames over the possibility of federal charges. I’ll call my people and see if we can get something worked out. It might be necessary for everybody to participate in a conference call in order to finalize the details.”
Both lawyers agreed. Books, however, wasn’t finished. “Becky, I don’t need to tell you how important time is right now. If we’re going to do this, it’s imperative I interview Benally as soon as possible.”
“I understand completely and you have my sympathy, J.D. However, I can’t grant you access to Mr. Benally until this matter with the U.S. Attorney’s Office is cleared up. Take care of that detail, and I’ll go immediately to the jail and present him your offer.”
The meeting ended. Bell headed back to his office, leaving Books and Eddins alone. “Tough day,” said Eddins, reaching across the table and placing her hand on top of his.
“You don’t know the half of it. Tell me something, Becky, why did you choose to get mixed up in this case? Benally would have qualified for a public defender and you know it.”
“I tried not to, but in the end, I guess I felt it was my obligation. He really wanted me to defend him and so did his family. In his own twisted way, I think Joe Benally sees me as not just his attorney but as a maternal figure as well. He doesn’t trust people, men in
particular, but he’s always trusted me going all the way back to his juvenile court days.”
“I assume you realize if the Rogerses turn up dead and your client’s got blood on his hands, it’s not going to be pleasant for you as his defense attorney. This is not some low-level drug case or juvenile court matter that nobody cares about. This is a high-profile kidnapping and possible murder case. You could end up being an outcast in your own hometown. Have you thought about that?”
“Of course I have, but because it is a high-profile case, it can do wonders for my legal career. I’ve never had a case like this, where the media hangs on your every word. I could never afford to buy this kind of publicity.”
“Just as long as you understand that all that publicity may come with a steep price.”
“I’m sorry you’re upset with me, J.D., but I’m only doing my job.”
She hesitated. Then, “Are we okay?”
Books didn’t feel he could even tell her about the arrest of his brother-in-law, since there was now a direct tie to her client. “I’m not angry with you but it sure puts a strain on things. Starting now, we’d be wise to keep our distance for a while, until the case is resolved—conflict of interest and all that good stuff.”
She looked surprised but recovered quickly. “I think you’re right. Some distance between us now seems like a prudent thing to do.”
Back in the Tahoe, Books grabbed his cell phone and saw he had a call from Red Rock Touring. The message was from Brett Gentry. Gentry wanted to meet as soon as possible. The man sounded anxious and Books liked that. Red Rock Touring would be his next stop as soon as he sorted out this mess with the U.S. Attorney’s Office. He needed help, so he called Special Agent Randy Maldonado.
Books filled Maldonado in on recent events, including the arrest and release of his brother-in-law from the Kane County Jail, as well as the tentative plea deal Virgil Bell had worked out with Becky Eddins.
“If I understand you correctly, J.D., this Eddins woman wants assurances that the federal government won’t hammer her client with new charges after he pleads to the state offense. Is that it?”
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