“Vince, Call me on the cell phone.”
I took the call to the tree house in the backyard where I had the best vantage point.
“Vince why are you putting all of that business out there like that? You’re slipping.”
“I trust Troy, Chet and Silver. I use them as filters and conduits to keep an eye on things and help with my investigations.”
“Vince, how do you know about the Hadley rape case in such intimate detail?”
“My girlfriend copied some files from a law firm she works, or dances at; it’s up in the air. I used the confidential informants they used for information and penetrated them on the ground with speed. I’ve compiled what I refer to as my discovery evidence and have a district attorneys kid on video selling drugs and on audio tape setting up deals. I’ve got one of the chairman of that company Chipcom, Raymond Senior’s son, Raymond Junior, on video selling drugs and on audio tape setting up a deal. By the way, that is the chairman who put up all of that money to finance the anti three strike proposition.”
“I read about that in the paper. What’s up with Bob Prescott and the rape victim?”
“I got that information out of the same files. I penetrated another snitch Bob Prescott does business with and found out Prescott worked for detective Pincher to set up the rape victim two times in a row.”
“Vince, how are you going to trust Bob Prescott’s rat friend not to turn on you? Does he know where you’re staying or your phone number? You know the heat can zero in on you with just your number and satellites.”
I listened to Vince think about if for too long. He was slipping.
“Yeah, he knows where I’m at, and he hasn’t called me back since yesterday. I fucked up and pushed too hard. It’s just the whole gang rape deal and the way the victim is getting so screwed has me losing my prospective. I’ve got all the evidence I mentioned in a P.O. Box in Trabuco Canyon. I’m going to move to a lawyer’s house in the most exclusive gated community in Dana Point next to get clear of this one.”
I heard a loud knocking and what sounded like the police yelling in the background at the house Vince was at. I heard Vince running and a sliding glass window opening and then Vince running again. A half a minute later I heard Vince breathing hard, almost say something, and then run again.
“Hey homeboy, the cops are closing in on me. I’m not going to get away…I dropped the P.O. Box key in the seventh hole and am running away from it… They’re going to fuck me up…”
I heard the detectives yelling, “Freeze! Down on the ground!”
Then Vince, “I am down on the ground!”
Then all I heard was the sound of someone getting thumped. I squeezed the phone and imagined Vince getting hammered with billy clubs and kicks. About twenty seconds into the pummeling I heard one of the detectives yell, “Stop resisting! Stop resisting!”
I imagined in my mind’s eye Vince lying on the ground unconscious. Then I heard the sound of a multitude of cars pulling in front of Troy’s in an intent manner. I looked down from the tree house at the foot plus drop and wondered if I had time to climb down and run. There wasn’t time. I jumped. I landed in the thick vines. They cushioned my fall slightly and slowed my decent down the slope, but not enough. I felt the vines latching around my legs and some of the roots giving way and tried to gain control by planting my feet against the ground and got flung face first. I threw my hands in front of me and felt my elbows hitting the ground as I grinded to a stop at the bottom of the slope. The vines were wrapped around my legs and arms and I panicked and thrashed myself loose and ran to the corner of the fence and scaled it. I landed on the other side behind a business on the coast highway. I skirted my way next door and into the underground parking lot to my Town Car.
I sat in the Town Car and was just about to start it and forced myself to think. The detectives must have been monitoring Vince’s cell phone and triangulated their way right to who he was on the phone with. Did they know it was me? I turned the cell phone off and took my PRESTO 1 license plates off and pulled out. I decided to go for it and drive right past Troy’s street. The freeway on-ramp was right next to it. Passing by I looked up his street and saw detective Pincher’s Crown Victoria, the white van and a bunch of squad cars and made it to the freeway on my way to Santa Margarita.
CHAPTER 158
At a gas station across the street from the gated community I put my license plates back on. At the gate the guard saw I was in the limo business and opened the gate. As I entered, I pulled over around the first corner and hid my Town Car in between two other parked cars and got on foot.
Two streets down I saw a Mercedes full of kids pointing toward an area on the golf course like that was where the action had been. I found the sign that read it was the seventh hole. I walked to the hole. The key was in it. The kids in the Mercedes were watching me so I walked to them.
“Did you see what happened here?”
“A bunch of detectives just dragged some poor guy who looked like he was barely conscious into the back of one of their cars. They just left.”
I got on the freeway and realized I didn’t know where I was going. My condo, my garage, Troy’s amusement park, none of them was a good idea. I picked up the cell phone Troy gave me, turned it on and started to dial Troy, then stopped myself from sending the call. I thought, this cell phone is already compromised. I turned it back off and pulled over to a pay phone.
“Troy I need a place to hide out!”
“Don’t come here! The lead detective was asking about you and arrested two people for drug offenses. I’m sure they told him you were here!”
“Where is CROSSROADS RECOVERY?”
CHAPTER 159
I parked around the corner from the recovery center, took my plates off, and walked. At the front door there was a sign that said they weren’t open until six a.m. It was 5:30 a.m. I walked back to the garage I’d walked past and listened. I heard people talking and kept looking and found a peephole drilled through the garage door. I looked through it and could discern a few bodies sitting on chairs. I knocked and whispered, “Damon! Sir Rott!”
I heard the talking inside cease, and then Damon telling someone to look through the peephole. “Who is it?”
“Sir B.J..”
I heard Damon get up and the door open from the garage to the backyard. I walked over to the side where the gate opened and saw Damon standing above the fence line at 6’3. He studied me with highly skeptical eyes with his head cocked back like he rarely believed anything before it was ultimately proven. He opened the gate and stepped through in a tank top that showed his sculpted frame that looked like chiseled armor from hundreds of thousands of pushups, handstand pushups, pull-ups and callisthenic exercises that shredded the core muscles to the bones. I watched his granite stoic face change and bless me with a knowing smile from all those years ago. I stepped into the garage.
“This is Dan and Eric. I want you two to go inside and tell Jade B.J. is here.”
I shook hands with Dan and Eric before they went inside.
“Jade runs the house and helps out a lot of people in need. I got out of prison after all those years and found out my wife turned into a Saint! She’s keeping my ass in check. All she asks out of people is that they tell the TRUTH and keep the dope fiend games and drama out of the house where people are trying to get into a sober life where they can get their SOUL, kids and families back.”
I thought about all of the drama I had in my back pocket and wondered if I should just keep it there. How could I? My mind kept replaying the beating I’d heard Vince getting. I had to find out if he was alright and decided Damon had a right to know and chose if he wanted to get involved or not. “I have to talk to you about Sir Vincent the Valiant.”
I explained details in a nut shell that led to the phone conversation with Vince explaining his intelligence gathering and discovery dossiers that led to my hearing him being beaten. I watched Damon’s stoic granite face flash full of concern and
followed him to the pay phone in the garage. I watched him call a 714 number that ended in 666.
“What number is that?”
“It’s the Orange County Jail.”
I felt chills going down my spine. We listened to Vince’s charges, street terrorism, extortion, resisting arrest and assault and battery on a police officer. Then the secretary told us Vince wasn’t housed in the jail, he was in a county hospital in Santa Ana.
Damon called the hospital and we found out Vince was in critical condition from head injuries. He was in a coma.
I told Damon, “I’ve got a key to a P.O. Box Vince managed to ditch with all of the evidence but I don’t know which P.O. Box.”
“I know exactly where it is. It’s in Trabuco Canyon. He told me about it in our cell in the Pelican Bay S.H.U.”
CHAPTER 160
Damon borrowed Jade’s Hummer and we drove away from CROSSROADS. At the end of the street a caravan of undercover vehicles raced through the stop sign toward the recovery center. From the passenger seat through the double tinted window I saw detective Pincher in his Crown Vic., the white van and three other units. Damon called Jade to let her know and hung up when he started getting yelled at.
We got to the P.O. Box and went to number 88. The box was stuffed full. I pulled out a video camera marked in stickers, CANDY 007, and three boxes. On top of one of the boxes was a note. It was in code. Damon recognized the code and said they were ancient ruins. He knew the code. We hustled back to the Hummer and I played the video footage and explained what Candy was doing on her homegrown dancer/escort production company. I imagined what watching this footage must have done to Vince’s heart after six years in a cell for 23 hours a day. I opened the first of the three boxes and asked Damon, “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know.”
Damon pulled over and called Jade from a payphone.
“Damon the gang task force just left! They want to know if you’re with B.J.! They said he has a parolee-at-large warrant and is wanted! You have 24 hours to report or you’ll have a warrant! I wouldn’t tell them anything because I know it always gets twisted and they threatened to put my recovery center out of business!”
“Jade, Vince is in a coma over some evidence he’s obtained against the task force. I need to go over the evidence somewhere. Where can I go?”
“Damon! Don’t get involved! Give the evidence to an attorney!”
“That’s where Vince got the leads and they were just going to use it for black mail!”
“Damon, you’re choosing Vince over your family!”
I watched Damon struggle with the loyalty issue. I knew he couldn’t turn his back on the cell mate he’d lived through so many crises with, in prisons packed with ultimate pressures producing ruthless animals and discarded souls. How can you explain to someone who hasn’t been there that your conscience won’t allow you to leave a brother behind, it’s the only loyalty and honor you’ve got left.
“Jade, I won’t get caught up… I just need a place to go over Vince’s discovery intelligence.”
“Go to my sister’s house in that gated community we had dinner at last week in Laguna Niguel.”
Damon was pulling on the telephone cord so hard it snapped.
CHAPTER 161
We pulled into the gated community and met Jade’s sister.
“I just got off the phone with Jade. You’re welcome to use my house and I’ll be praying for you nonstop! I’m on my way to the airport right now for a conference in San Francisco. I won’t be back for a week. Please think things through and pray about them before you do anything!”
We entered the mansion through the garage and went upstairs to the bonus room to make a headquarters to study the evidence. The first box was addressed to a court house and more specifically, the head D.A. I opened the box and pulled out an artistic piece of paper that had been fashioned to look like a parched scroll. In beautiful writing I read a Bible verse I was familiar with, Matthew 7 verse 1. JUDGE NOT, LEST YOU BE JUDGED. LET THOSE WITHOUT SIN CAST THE FIRST STONE. There was another note. I, the sender of this message am a product of this area, the same as your son. I like your son, got caught up in a prevalent drug using culture and went to prison over it. I can tell you that prison life turns the disease of addiction into an AFFLICTION much harder to escape from. Prison breeds tattoos that represent race, territories and streets where violence is a big part of the solution and the only way. Would you want that for your son? I’m asking you to observe the dates I later mention; on those dates I beseech you to send everyone on your court calendar from that day with a drug crime to a treatment center rather than prison. No exceptions. If you chose not to go with this program get your popcorn and a drink ready to watch your son make the news.
I put the video in and Damon stopped me.
“The coded ruins Vince left behind said that he was able to use the same video camera the D.A.’s son used to record his sexual escapades, unbeknownst to the girls he was sleeping with, to build up a homegrown porn collection he bragged about. Vince flipped the script on him and used the same video camera on him.
The footage showed a white beach-style looking guy in his mid twenties with bleach tip spiked hair with his back to the video camera. He was weighing up product on a triple beam scale from a healthy pile of speed to his right where more than twenty plastic baggies were. We heard Vince ask, “How much did that half a pound of speed cost you and how much do you usually make from breaking it down like that?”
The trendy drug dealer turned. He looked standard issue for the area with a few tattoos, flashy silver rings and a Silver Star belt buckle. “I make a couple thousand a week off the kids in college. I’m actually helping them get their degrees.”
The next box was marked CHIPCOM. I opened it and listened to Damon explain Vince’s notes he’d deciphered.
“Vince spent a lot of time on this one and never came up with a strategy. He mentioned he thought the chairman; Raymond Senior was a good man who was misguided and power hungry. He noted how much the senior loved his son and how much satisfaction he got from donating to causes. Vince mentioned wanting to steer the powerful chairman into becoming a leader philanthropist who helped ex-prisoners dig roots in the community as youth leaders by using their past experiences for something good.”
We watched the video footage of the chairman’s son Raymond Junior. It was from a camera phone. Raymond Junior was dressed in designer clothes and looked like a G.Q. model with brown spiked hair. The only thing that gave him away was the flashy Silver Star belt buckle and all the dope on the table he was weighing up on a digital scale. There were ecstasy pills and a pile of speed with a number of baggies. I saw the similarities between Raymond Junior and the D.A.’s kid in that they both had that invisible leash around their necks to their dope, holding them to the sense of power that made them feel like a god. I put an audio cassette of a phone call in and hit play. We heard Vince say, “Big Ray! What’s up with my level four shot caller? What’s the business holmes?”
Raymond junior responding, “What’s up Big V.?… What are you doing you big old pimp?”
“Pimp? You’re the one hording all of the sexy sluts! I’m over here waiting for you to reach out and touch me with one of those top shelf, ten thousand dollar a night escorts I know you ball with, you big baller! Are you going to any after hour raves this weekend?”
“Yeah, there’s one in L.A. this Friday and one in Irvine everyone is going to be at on Saturday. All the local companies like Volcom, Lost and Black Flyes are hosting the one in Irvine. It’s a PIMP and HO party, so all of the guys are going to be dressed in pin stripe pimp wear and all of the ladies are going to be dressed like high class escorts. I’ll pick you up in the Hummer limo I’m renting for the weekend.”
“Hell, yeah! That sounds good, but I don’t want to live off your coat tails, I might get used to it stud. Let me pay my own way. How much for a zone of those shards? That means an ounce of speed.”
“I
understood the first time! Give me some credit. If you buy one it’s $900, if you buy four its $800.
“I’m sorry big Ray. It’s just that I’ve been locked up for half of my life and I’m not sure if I know the lingo you guys are using or not. Say, how much for those excellent vitamin pills you’ve got. How much for a boat?”
Raymond Junior took a while to answer and then sounded uncomfortable. “$3,500… Hey Big V. let me talk to you about this stuff in person. I don’t trust these lines of communication if you know what I mean.”
“Alright, I hear you… On another note I want to start a nonprofit foundation to help ex-prisoners re-integrate back into society. I’m going to draw up a floor plan with a purpose and see what else is already out there to find an angle. Do you think your Dad would be interested in donating money to it or becoming part of it? Doesn’t he own a big part of CHIPCOM and already does a lot of donating for tax write offs?”
“My Dad has a big heart and I’m sure if we propose it right he’ll help us.”
The last box was labeled, DEMOCRACY THAT TURNDED INTO HYPOCRISY. I opened the box and pulled out a legal file. Damon and I read a compilation of reports from private investigators working for a big law firm in Laguna Beach. We could visualize the top law enforcement official trying, out of love to help his son avoid prison for the gang rape on video in their garage. The father hadn’t left a stone unturned and we could imagine him recruiting others within the department to help his cause. At the end of one of the reports we saw who he co-opted. Detective Pincher. Detective Pincher co-opted Bob Prescott. The rest of Vince’s discovery evidence was unsubstantiated. He had an audio tape from a phone conversation of a snitch Vince’s coded notes referred to as Short Dog, admitting Bob Prescott set up Jane Doe for detective Pincher. Damon shook his head and said, “That won’t hold up in court. We can’t get any mileage out of it, only problems, it’s all smoke and mirrors.”
ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) Page 42
