Detective Maltobano finished his U-turn and raced behind the B.M.W. and made it to the stop sign where the street made a Tee. The Hummer wasn’t visible. He turned left and raced around the B.M.W. and couldn’t see the Hummer ahead but saw another Crown Vic. racing the other way. He thought, that must be a government vehicle in pursuit. He floored the accelerator another half a mile, still no Hummer in view. At the next opportunity, he flipped a U-turn.
Damon said, “I used to go off-roading in these hills. I know a path that’s a short cut through to the toll road.”
I watched Damon turn into a one way street and saw a sign that said we were heading to a bird sanctuary. Damon lined up a long ago trail and accelerated right up a curb…
Detective Pincher saw the Hummer’s taillights in front of a Porsche and two other cars in front of him. “There they are!”
The Hummer was the only vehicle to branch off and turn right.
Detective Marks said, “That street dead ends at the bird sanctuary, we’ve got them!”
Detective Pincher turned into the dead end street and saw the Hummer bounce over the curb recklessly. He parked at the end of the street and yelled, “You two out! Follow them on foot and stay in contact on the radio, I’ll pursue them to the other side where the toll road meets, and we’ll pinch them!”
CHAPTER 173
We bounced over the curb and Damon floored it up a steep dirt hill. I couldn’t see what was on the other side of the hill and hoped Damon’s memory was accurate. The front tires came off the ground at the lip of the hill and the Hummer was almost perpendicular. The front tires came back down and I saw we were right in the middle of a narrow trail. Damon navigated through a turn and gunned the engine for a half a mile kicking up dust in our wake. We got to a hairpin turn and Damon said, “I hope the rain didn’t fill up this gulley we have to cross.”
At the top of the steep hill we couldn’t see the bottom of the gulley until it was too late. We were already going down the twelve foot drop when we saw the bottom was filled with massive boulders and water. The front end of the Hummer smashed into the boulders at an impossibly steep angle and we rolled over on the roof. I tried to open my door and it wouldn’t budge and began rolling down the window. Damon was right behind me and we were the first ones out. I pulled Raymond Senior out and Damon pulled Troy out.
I looked at the terrain and saw a toll road a few miles away to our right. We’d have to travel around a mountain bike trail to get there. To our immediate left was the bird sanctuary that dipped into thick trees giving it a shadowy seclusion.
Detective Marks and Buzkill stood at the top of the hairpin turn looking at the upended Hummer.
“They’re on foot! They’ll probably try and hide in the bird sanctuary! We’ll call you back in a few to let you know.”
We ran into the sanctuary and stayed in the shadows. Everywhere I saw the sunlight filtering through was the wrong place to be and I followed the path and saw two massive cage enclosures just as I heard an ear piercing screech. The first cage had a bald Eagle in it and was staring at me curiously from his perch. I was momentarily transfixed with the beautiful bird of prey. There was just a hint of sunlight piercing through the tree tops and it gave the Eagle a reddish tint to its majestic feather pattern making it look bloody and battered. The next cage had an even bigger bird of prey and was the one screeching the warning. It was a California condor. It was spreading his wings in an impossibly far reaching span and seemed to be studying me. I ran around his cage for shelter and pinched myself into the boulders that ran behind both cages. Damon and Troy did the same thing behind the Eagle’s cage. Raymond Senior kept going.
I watched him walk into the sunlight and stop at a well built bathroom and turn around to look at us. I saw Detective Pincher pointing his gun at him and get his attention. Raymond Senior threw his hands in the air and I watched him get placed roughly in handcuffs and escorted out of view.
Detective Pincher shoved Raymond Senior into the back of the Crown Vic. while ranting, “You’re going to be charged with a criminal conspiracy if you don’t give me your full cooperation! Are the suspects armed?”
Raymond Senior remembered all the warnings not to say anything and maintained a stoic mask
Detective Pincher yelled, “You should be ashamed of yourself for bowing down to their pressure and making those statements on their behalf!”
Then he slammed the door and ran into the bird sanctuary right as the echo of a shot fired reached their ears.
I saw two detectives enter the sanctuary the way we had with their guns drawn. There was nowhere to hide. All we could do was hope to blend in with the boulders. I was hoping the birds wouldn’t screech and give us away. I watched them studying the intruders quietly. Detective Marks walked past the first cage past Troy and Damon and stopped. Then he looked right at me.
“There’s Benny!”
I watched both detectives shuffle forward in a shooters stance and wondered why they weren’t ordering me out backwards with my hands in the air. I lifted them anyway and my stomach sank as both detectives got closer and still hadn’t started yelling out commands. Both detectives shuffled their way in between both birdcages and I saw the California condor lurch into the air and screech toward the detectives.
Detective Buzkill panicked, turned, and fired at the possible threat and the screeching bird was silenced and fell to the ground in a heap.
I saw the other perch the Condor was going to land on and yelled in outrage, “You idiot!”
Detective Maltobano saw the Crown Vic. parked at the curb when he heard the report from the gun. He skidded to a stop behind it and saw Raymond Senior running into the sanctuary screaming, “They don’t have guns!”
Detective Pincher turned and saw Raymond Senior and then detective Maltobano.
“Benny! Turn around and walk backward toward my voice! Hands in the air!”
CHAPTER 174
Raymond Senior stared at Detective Pincher and thought, they were right about this guy, he’s an overzealous bully.
Detective Pincher said, “If you want to play hardball with me and stay silent and take the side of criminals I can promise you the whole county is going to associate you with a home grown terrorist organization whose criminal history and structure will come out in the media. Everyone will turn on you, locally. As soon as the Feds get here they will be interviewing you and then you can expect another interview from Homeland Security so you might as well tell me the truth now. You’ll be a local hero. It’s your choice, outcast… Or Hero?”
Internal Affairs detective Maltobano drove to the P.O. Box and flashed his credentials. “I need to see a log of who has come in today.”
He scanned: Tony at 9 a.m., Ronald at 9:30, Christy at 10:30, and Vickie at 11:15 and then Valiant at 12:30 p.m. “Who came in under Valiant?”
The employee said, “I asked a big guy with tattoos who he was while he used the P.O. Box key and he said, Valiant…I looked up the box number they used and it was under the name Valiant.”
“I need to get into that box.”
“Sir I can’t let you do that. It’s a federal law.”
“Let me talk to the owner.”
“I’ll get you the key sir.”
Detective Pincher watched Raymond Senior and his team of attorneys that showed up a few minutes ago walk out of his office. He looked at detective Marks and Buzkill and said, “He isn’t talking yet… We might have to talk to the D.A. to drop the charges temporarily and let the state have them for their violations. If we do that they might drop their guard while we monitor Raymond Senior’s home phone, his cell phone, his son’s cell phone and the wife’s cell phone. We can pick the charges up again as soon as we have some evidence.”
Detective Pincher noticed his partner Marks was the first to understand. He responded “I understand, If we can’t get the D.A. to drop the charges Raymond Senior and his family will bond together and guard their tongues a lot harder while the case is being built.�
�
Detective Pincher nodded his head and pulled the discovery evidence they seized from B.J.’s father days ago. “There is one loose end I need to tie up. Let’s bring in Bob Prescott. I’ve got a plan.”
CHAPTER 175
Damon and I were housed into our county jail and instead of entering the loop of cells to be processed we got shoved into a secluded cell. I stood at the door, watched a group of ten-monster Sheriffs walk over, and said, “Here comes our welcoming party. It looks like they want to jump us into their gang.”
The cell door popped open and the first monster stepped in and punched his fist into his other hand. “This is where the buck stops and the real justice is served on street terrorist scum.”
Standing next to me Damon said, “I’m here for the pancakes you guys serve.”
I asked, “Is our penthouse suite ready yet?”
I watched the rest of the Sheriffs start to squeeze in and realized too late that we should have done our best to keep them from entering. From the corner of my eye I saw someone in uniform running to our cell to get the Sheriff’s attention.
“Don’t put a mark on them! The media is going to be all over this!”
An hour later I was in front of the same Lieutenant getting a band on my wrist and housed. He stared at me through those wise looking eyes behind those glasses and looked at his file of paperwork.
“So you’re the ones who got that video on CNN.”
The Lieutenant looked at me and said, “You don’t look tweaked out like you did last time… How did you get him to change his tune like that on the three strikes law?”
I stared at the Lieutenant and didn’t say anything.
“You’re being charged with kidnapping, street terrorism and a criminal conspiracy that will probably grow into many more charges. I don’t expect you to ever see sunshine on the streets again.”
A few hours later I was escorted to a cell in the old county jail and left Damon behind. A week later a deputy told me all of our charges had been dropped and we were just going to do a violation of parole and to pack up to catch the chain to prison.
CHAPTER 176
Agent Maltobano studied the computer screen in his Marina Del Ray home and found a web site about coded ruins. He laughed at how easy it was to crack the rudimentary code. He stopped laughing after reading it. He got on the phone and dialed his office. “Hi Karen. I need to speak to our watch commander about an extremely urgent matter. Thank you… Mr. Bonafino, it’s agent Maltobano. I’m going to need to get into some public records in Orange County regarding the drug arrest and reports related to… a detective Pincher.”
“I’ll get them and fax them to you forthwith!”
“Thank you sir.”
Two hours later the fax machine beeped. Maltobano pulled the paper out and read the reports and got a confirmation right as his phone rang.
“Agent Maltobano, it’s commander Bonafino. I sent out a statewide alert for Bob Prescott and got a call back from L.A. County Jail. Detective Pincher dropped him into their custody yesterday. You can go interview him forthwith!”
An hour later, agent Maltobano pulled up to the jail and saw an ambulance pulling out the back entrance with lights flashing quietly, driving slowly. He thought, whoever was inside must not have been critical. He parked and walked inside. At a bullet proof window he flashed his credentials.
He watched a tired black receptionist look from his credentials to him with a questioning look and ask, “And? What do you want?”
“I need to have an official visit with Bob Prescott. He got dropped into your custody by a detective Pincher from Orange County yesterday evening.”
The tired receptionist tapped some keys on her computer and said, “He was just transported to Cedar-Sinai in critical condition. He was involved in an incident while he was showering.”
“Where was he housed?”
The tired receptionist looked with an expression that said her patience was being tested. She moved a fan closer to her and tapped some more keys on the computer. “He was housed in the high power unit, sir, that’s all I can tell you.”
“I need to talk to your supervisor!”
Agent Maltobano followed the L.A. jail deputy to an office with a sign that said: GANG UNIT. He sat down in a chair across from a desk by himself and asked the deputy leaving, “Are you getting the Lieutenant?”
“No sir. We called him. He’s on his way to meet you.”
Agent Maltobano dialed Cedar Sinai. “I’m calling to get the status on Bob Prescott. He was transported to your hospital an hour ago… I’m with Internal Affairs. My name is Agent Maltobano badge number 1503. You can call our headquarters in L.A. to confirm… Sure, I’ll hold.”
A few minutes later, the receptionist came back. “Sir Bob Prescott got here D.O.A.”
Agent Maltobano hung up the phone and stared at the walls. One side was labeled MEXICAN MAFIA and underneath was pictures of identified shot callers and identified hit men. The other wall was labeled WHITE MAFIA and underneath was pictures of identified gang member shot callers, then a list of hit men underneath. Agent Maltobano got up to look at the faces in the pictures closer when the door opened.
“Sorry to keep you waiting sir. I’m Lieutenant Aceves. I just heard about Bob Prescott. I have to tell you I’m not surprised. We’ve been telling the state and federal government for years we need more money to house all of these prisoners properly. We’re underfunded and have people sleeping on the ground like they do in Mexican jails. Inmates keep getting killed in here, the newspapers keep reporting it, and we still don’t get any more funding for more deputies. What can I do for you?”
“I’m investigating something related to Bob Prescott and need to see whose custody detective Pincher dropped him into.”
Lieutenant Aceves tapped on his key board and answered, “I see what happened. We were understaffed yesterday. Nobody signed off on him and I see what the problem is. They shouldn’t have housed him in the white power gang unit. Bob Prescott had two tattoos on his arms of a black gang and thug life. No wonder they stabbed him! He had an identity crises! That’s a no-no in here.
CHAPTER 177
I finished explaining the script to Screwball while he was fashioning a fishing line. He asked, “Where’s Damon?”
“I don’t know. I left him in the county jail.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s more than strange for you to be here this fast, I can see why they would drop the charges. Raymond Senior, his son, Troy and anyone else who knows things might talk or brag about details if they think it’s clear. The D.A. can just re-file the charges later if more evidence is obtained. I’m guessing they dropped the charges for another reason also. They didn’t want the media to give your message any more mileage. I’ve already seen the media get distracted with all of those reports that N. Korea is shuttling nuclear material to Iran. It’s getting all of the attention and the general public is forgetting about your drama. I say it’s good that Damon isn’t here with you because I can imagine the state sending you both to a prison where a race war is brewing.”
I understood. He was saying that if we were on a yard where they could shoot us under conditions that gave them the opportunity to…Without Damon with me I was okay. I knew Screwball spent years at Corcoran state prison in the 90’s while some of the guards pitted inmates against each other, bet on who would win, and then shoot them so I asked, “Tell me about your time at Corcoran.”
“I was there from the beginning. It started with a deputy in the building I was in. Deputy Valdez. He knew the ins and outs of prison and drug politics like a criminal. He knew that inside the buildings the White race and the Mexican race showered in the same showers and the Black race and the Asian and Other races showered together in the other showers. So he started trying to make us all shower together in each other’s showers to see what would happen. One day on our shower day, he handcuffed me through our tra
y slot and walked my cellie and I to the Black showers and told me to get in. My cellie and I refused to shower and back at my cell I told him loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘I’m not giving you the power to stir up a racial war. You know which showers we use and our rules to get along!’ The next day, that guard came to our cell and tossed up all of our belongings while we were getting our three hours of yard.”
“What does that guard look like?”
“He’s an ugly dark Mexican with a scar from his right ear to his chin giving him the appearance of an evil clown. He’s about six foot, 200lbs. He became the ring leader who started the gladiator wars. He went from trying to get racial beefs going over the showers to figuring out how to force us to clean up problems he knew we couldn’t not clean up. He knew we had to stab child molesters, rapists and informants to maintain a code of honor. So he manipulated our building and moved a third of the people out of our building. Then he announced that inmates from a certain yard, one most of us knew was a Protective Custody yard that housed those child molesters, rapists and informants; were getting moved into our building. He watched all of our shot callers shoot kites to their entire race with a warning of what was happening, for those who didn’t know what time it was. This time, unlike the shower set up, deputy Valdez got the violence he was staging. It was a blood bath. The violence went on and off for three months until Sacramento investigated what was going on and finally understood the situation. They put a block on any more inmates getting moved from Protective Custody yards to our yards. Deputy Valdez quickly figured out how to stir up more violence.
At the time, the Southern Mexicans and Crips were going at it in what had to be termed an all out war that started at Pelican Bay and then reached the streets and then came back to the county jail and then other prisons. I had the shot caller for the Southern Mexicans in the cell next to me. He was good people from O.C. One day while deputy Valdez was running showers he searched my neighbor’s cell. My neighbor came back and found all his store and coffee dumped on the ground. Deputy Valdez had poured water on it and all of my neighbor’s mail and pictures was covered in the mess. My neighbor saw it and while he was getting his cuffs taken off inside his cell told deputy Valdez, “What comes around, goes around.” Deputy Valdez made a scene and yelled, “So you want to threaten me on the tier like that? I’ll show you how much control I have in here! Just watch what happens” A few days later my neighbor shot me a kite in the morning and told me he had a dream that he and his cellie were going to get set up and that he was going to get shot and die. An hour later, Deputy Valdez showed for his shift and had a Mexican inmate with him in handcuffs. He had the Mexican inmate sit down in the dayroom and I knew that Mexican was in trouble. I found out later that he was in trouble for not helping his homeboys out in a riot in the county that made the news. The Mexican that was in trouble was getting housed in the cell next to my neighbor and was on his way there when my neighbor’s cell was popped all of a sudden. I watched my neighbors come rushing out of their cell and the melee action came right in front of my cell. The gun tower started blasting live rounds. One of the rounds hit a metal pole sheltering the top tier and ricochet into my face right next to my eye.”
ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) Page 45
