by Robert Ward
“Well,” he said. “He’s got it now, Dad.”
“What’s that?” Jack said.
“Total immunity,” Kevin said. “Nothing can hurt him again.”
“That’s right,” Jack said as they turned away. “Total immunity. Let’s go home, son.”
He squeezed Kevin’s shoulder as they walked together back toward the car.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Detective Frank Bolan (Retired) of the Wilshire Homicide Division. In addition to being a good pal, Frank explained to me all the ramifications of immunity cases, which got my imagination rolling. Frank, a born raconteur, and a legendary cop in the LAPD, is one of the many great people I met at Tom Bergin’s Bar, including Chris Dolan, the writing and boxing bartender, who always brought me extra paper so I could almost keep up with Bolan’s wild tales. Also best to Mike, Charlie, Lisa, and Rob.
At the FBI I got major help from Special Agent Laura Eimiller, who put me in touch with everyone I needed to know, and Special Agent Scott Garriola, who is not only a great agent, but also a hell of a storyteller.
Big kudos to my amazing agent Philip Spitzer, the master of not only the deal, but the world’s greatest joke teller, and my Literary Manager Lukas Ortiz, one of the most amazing karaoke singers in the world, especially when it comes to Jim Morrison impersonations. In Hollywood, my thanks to agent Joel Gotler, who loves to riff and plays blues harp to rival Sonny Boy Williamson.
Love and respect to Otto Penzler, my buddy for many years, and now, happily, my editor. Thanks to Lindsey Smith and Judith McQuown for their help in the editing process.
Thanks and big love to my wife, Celeste Wesson, and my sons, Robbie, Shannon, and Kevin. And special kudos to my mother, Shirley Kauff man, the true Queen of Baltimore.
And, finally, all my love to Jason and his family.
