by Mark M Bello
BETRAYAL
IN
BLACK
MARK M. BELLO
A Zachary Blake Legal Thriller
Copyright 2019 Mark M. Bello
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews and other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Published by 8Grand Publications
Printed in the United States of America
ASIN: B081K754TM
Betrayal in Black is dedicated to innocent victims of police violence—America can do better . . .
About the Cover
Special Thanks for Park West Gallery and Artist Dominic Pangborn for their contributions to the cover of Betrayal in Black.
Park West Gallery is the world’s largest art dealer, bringing the experience of collecting fine art to more than 2 million customers since 1969. Park West has gallery locations in Michigan and Florida and is famous for bringing its knowledge and customer service to art auctions on cruise ships and fine hotels, as well as its gallery locations.
Dominic Pangborn was born in 1952 and is a celebrated Korean-American artist and designer. Critics have described his style as ‘evolutionary’ because it is continually changing. As a result, change has become a consistent theme in his works.
The color red is seen in the majority of his works. After a collector observed that red must be his favorite color, Pangborn decided to consciously focus on red, making it one of his most predominant themes.
His work and accomplishments have been celebrated at the White House and the 2018 Winter Olympics, and his art is collected around the world
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Epilogue
Betrayal High
Other Books in the Series
About the Author
Prologue
“Sixteen calling fifteen. Come in, please. What is your current location?”
“Vinewood and Ninth, possible B & E. Currently waiting on key holder. What’s up. Sixteen?”
“Copy. Pulling vehicle over—Michigan plate number 272-BLM. That’s 272 BRAVO, LIMA, MIKE. Got that?”
“Copy that.”
“Going to check ID. Two male occupants matching description of Burger King robbery suspects . . . Occupants appear to resemble the suspects but did not get a good look.”
“Copy that. Wise to await backup. Where are you now?”
“Cedar, just south of Pennsylvania, heading north. The stop should be north of Pennsylvania, heading north toward Eureka.”
“Will come to your location ASAP. I see where you are.”
“Will await your arrival. Ten-four.”
“Ten-four. Will be there shortly.”
***
“The kids sure enjoyed the fair. I’m glad we came. The people were nice, considering. Want to get something to eat?”
“Sure, I’m hungry if you’re hungry.”
“It’s all about me, right? It’s always about me. You are the sweetest man.”
He really is. After all of these years together, he still always puts me first.
“Your happiness is my happiness, baby,” he coos. “You know what they say?”
“No, but I know you’ll tell me,” she giggles.
“Happy wife, happy life.”
“And don’t you forget it,” she warns.
“Marcus, please roll down the window for me?”
“Sure. Whoa, what the fuck?”
“What?”
“There’s a cop coming up on us, with lights and siren flashing. The whole nine yards.” He’s in a panic.
“Maybe there’s an emergency up ahead. There’s a hospital nearby.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s the speed limit?”
“Thirty-five. What are you doing?”
“Thirty-two, thirty-three.”
“Okay. Stay calm. Let’s see what he does.”
“He’s right up my ass. I smoked a joint on my way home from work. Can you smell it?”
She sniffs at the air. “No, I don’t think so.” She is pissed off.
How can he smoke weed, then get into a car and go for a drive with his family?
She’d let it slide, at least for now.
“Stay calm, baby. You weren’t speeding. We got the kids in the car, and even if he smells weed, we can tell him it was me, not you.”
“Like a cop will care. He’ll make me walk a straight line or something.”
“Please don’t give him attitude.”
“I won’t. What about the gun?”
“Make sure he knows you have it. Do you have the permit?”
“In the glove box.”
“Let him know you have the gun and a license to carry.”
“I will. Here we go . . . pulling over right now.”
“Aisha, sweetheart?” She turns to her six-year-old daughter strapped in her car seat.
“Mommy and Daddy are going to talk with the nice policeman. Keep an eye on the baby, okay?”
“Yes, Mama. Are we going to get something to eat? I’m hungry.”
“After we talk with the nice policeman, baby. Please stay quiet back there. It’s quiet time now.”
The woman pulls an iPhone from her purse and enables the video function.
***
“Good evening sir and . . . uh . . . ma’am. License and registration, please?”
“What’s the problem, officer?”
“License and registration, sir.”
“I heard you. Am I entitled to know what I did wrong? I wasn’t speeding. When I last checked, my rear lights were working okay.”
“License and registration . . . now!”
“Talkative fella’, aren’t you? All right. I’m getting them out. I want to make sure that you are aware that I have a gun and a permit to carry.”
“Don’t get them out! Don’t even move! Put your hands on the dash!”
“License and registration, now!”
“Hands on the dash or license and registration? I can’t do both, officer.”
“Raise your hands in the air and slowly step out of the car.”
“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong,” Marcus pleads.
“Did I stutter? Raise your hands in the air and step out of the car. I need to see your license, registration, and permit.”
“Stop pointing that damned gun at me! You are scaring my children. See, they’re crying. You’ve upset them. It’s okay babies. Daddy is talking to this nasty policeman. I’m sorry he is being such a mean man. We’ll get something to eat in a few minutes.”
Marcus tries to stay calm for the sake of his family.
“I’m not asking. Step out of the damned car!” The officer is becoming unglued.
“I’m getting out, damn you, but, here, let me just show you my—”
“Don’t reach. Stop!”
“I’m getting what you requested, just going to show you my—”
“Put your hands where I can see them!” The officer snarls.
“Jesus H. Christ, officer. I’m not—”
Thunderous shots ring out, and Marcus slumps away from the dash, back toward the driver’s seat.
“Oh my god! You just shot my husband,” screams the front seat passenger.
“Marcus, hang in there, baby. Call an ambulance. NOW! Why did you do that? He was just doing what you told him to do. Oh my god! He’s unconscious!”
The woman shakes the unconscious victim. She screams and turns to her children, hysterical in the back seat. She turns back to her husband.
“Marcus, can you hear me? God, the children!”
“Mommy! Mommy!” Aisha cries.
“Mommy is right here, Aisha, baby.”
“Stay where you are, ma’am. Don’t move.”
“Is he dead? Noooo! He needs an ambulance. NOW!”
“Fuck, oh, fuck! I can’t believe this shit! Why did he reach for—”
The woman is livid.
“You requested his license and registration! All he was trying to do was show you! What’s the matter with you? Are you crazy?”
“Fuck! Don’t move!”
The officer is now pointing the gun at the female passenger.
“Nobody’s moving,” she cries, raising both hands in the air. “What about our children? Don’t move, Aisha.”
“Fuck!”
“Whatever you do, don’t hurt our children,” the woman pleads.
“I told him to put his hands on the dash. I told him not to move his hands. I told him to raise his hands and exit the vehicle. I told him to keep his hands where I could see them. Why didn’t he do what I ordered? Fuck!”
The kids are still screaming in the back seat.
“My kids are terrified! I need to get them out of the back seat.”
“Keep your hands where I can see them, ma’am.”
“Absolutely. I’m not moving a muscle. Is someone else coming? I need to tend to my babies. Did you call for an ambulance? You need to get an ambulance out here! Dear God!” she cries. “Tell me he isn’t dead! Blood’s everywhere! He didn’t do anything! Why? Why did you shoot him? For no damn reason, that’s why!”
“Shut up! Just shut-the-fuck-up!”
The cop hovers over her in a shoot-to-kill stance.
The woman defies him.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that! Where is that damn ambulance? Marcus, Honey? He’s dead. I think he’s dead!”
A squad car pulls up. Officer Alex Mickler gets out of the driver’s seat.
“What’s the problem, here, Randy?”
“Glad you’re here, Alex.”
A second officer exits his vehicle. The two cops engage in a whispered conversation as they walk toward the victim's car. The second officer peers into the driver’s side window and recoils in shock.
“This guy is dead, Randy. Did you call for a bus?”
“Not yet.”
“Fifteen to central. We have an officer-involved shooting. One male adult with multiple gunshot wounds. We need a bus, stat, to Cedar, about a half-mile north of Pennsylvania.
“One female adult is being taken into custody. There are two minor children in the back seat in need of attention. Call social services.
“We need multiple squads to block off Cedar from Pennsylvania south to Eureka north. We need supervisors here, STAT! Page everyone within earshot. Do you read?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Randy, take a seat on the curb. Ma’am, please exit the car and make sure I can see your hands,” Mickler commands.
“My children, what about my children?”
“They’re fine where they are, ma’am. Now, please exit the vehicle.”
“They are not fine! They’re scared, officer! I need to be with them.”
“Mommy!”
“They’ll be fine.”
“How can my kids be fine? That bastard shot my husband in cold blood, right in front of us!”
Mickler points to the trunk. “Hands on the trunk, ma’am.”
“Please get my kids out of the car and bring them to me, PLEASE!”
“Follow my orders, please, ma’am. Help is on the way. Just keep your hands where—”
“My hands are right here! I’m not moving! I haven’t moved an inch! I’ve got the whole thing on video on my phone! That cop killed my Marcus in cold blood! He killed my husband! He killed their daddy!”
She shakes and points her finger at the first officer.
“Stay calm and don’t move, ma’am. The ambulance is here.”
An ambulance driver approaches the scene.
“What’s the situation?”
“Victim’s in the driver’s seat with multiple gunshot wounds. He’s not moving. Jones claims there’s a gun in the car, so proceed with caution. I believe he is deceased.”
“Okay, I’ve got it from here.”
“The car is a crime scene. Make sure the emergency brake is engaged.”
“Got it.”
“Tell me what happened, Randy? I thought you were going to wait for me before approaching the vehicle.”
The woman interrupts.
“He shot my husband for no reason, that’s what happened! Will you please get my kids out of the car? They’re frightened.”
“Patience, please, ma’am. You will get your turn. I’m talking to Officer Jones right now. Randy?”
“I don’t know, man. It was a routine traffic stop. There were infants in the car for Christ’s sake! I demanded to see his license and registration. I might have smelled marijuana, not sure. He told me that he had a firearm and a license to carry. I told him not to reach for it. His hand was behind the driver's side door. I couldn’t tell what he was holding. I told him to put his hands on the dashboard where I could see them. I didn’t know where the gun was, and he wouldn’t put his hands where I could see them. He would not comply with my instructions. I couldn’t see the fucking gun!”
“Okay. Then what?”
“He was staring into space, like he was high or something. It was getting tense and I was nervous. I kept telling him to keep his hands on the dash because I had no idea where the gun was.”
“Okay, Okay. And?”
“He reaches down and . . .”
“How many people were in the car?”
“Four, counting the victim. The female states she’s the wife. Her I.D. indicates her name is Sarah Hayes, same last name as the driver, one Marcus Hayes. There are two kids who she claims are their children.”
“Deep breaths, man, just take deep breaths. There were four people in total? One male suspect, one female, and two minor children?”
“Correct.”
“Why were they pulled over?”
“The vehicle and occupants matched the description of the Burger King robbery perps.”
“The Burger King guys are both
males.”
“I couldn’t tell the passenger was female until I reached the vehicle.”
“Where were you relative to the suspect?”
“I was at his side-view mirror with my gun drawn pointing down diagonally at the driver.”
“Are all rounds still in the vehicle?”
“Is the suspect still in the vehicle?”
“What about the woman?”
“She was a pain in my ass. She kept screaming. ‘You shot my husband. My babies. My babies.’ She claimed she’s got the whole thing on her cell phone.”
“Was anyone else at the scene besides these four?”
“No. Well, not that I know of, anyway.”
“Did you run the plate?”
“The car belongs to the driver. No outstanding warrants.”
“Where do they live?”
“Detroit.”
“What were they doing in Cedar Ridge?”
“I didn’t ask. They seem out of place for this area.”
“The boss is on his way. Hang in there. We’ll sort this out.”
Chapter One
“What do you think?”
Cedar Ridge chief of police Warren Brooks has convened a task force to conduct a special inquiry into this officer-involved shooting. The most experienced law enforcement officials from city and county are named to the task force.
The press will have a field day with this!
The chief and the task force listen to the transcript of the audio and review dash cam video. They review copies of a disturbing iPhone video the victim’s wife captured.
Officer Randy Jones is suspended pending completion of the investigation. He faces state charges and a possible federal civil rights investigation and prosecution. The victim was African-American. His name is Marcus Hayes; he resided in Detroit. Officer Jones is a veteran Cedar Ridge resident and cop.
“This is off the record, correct?” A task force veteran wonders.
“Absolutely,” assures Chief Brooks.
“Doesn’t look very good to me. I didn’t hear or see anything to suggest that the officer was in danger at any time.”
“Any time a citizen utters ‘I have a gun’ to an officer, that officer is in danger,” counters Brooks.
“True enough, I suppose, but why would the victim tell the officer he had a gun if he planned to use it? The victim did exactly what he should have done under the circumstances. We can’t go shooting every citizen who is carrying and has a legal right to carry.”
