by Lee Butcher
DEADLY ENCOUNTER
Isaac Davis, a sophomore at the University of South Florida, lay on a futon in his living room watching television. He had taken the day off from school to recuperate from the flu.
Suddenly there were three loud thuds against his door. On the fourth blow, the door splintered off its hinges and came crashing into his apartment. A woman carrying a gun stumbled in. Following her was a man who had a gun that appeared to be a military weapon.
Davis turned and ran.
“He’s in here,” Paula said.
“Get him,” Chino ordered.
Paula caught him in the bedroom and marched him into the living room. Chino grabbed Davis and pushed him to the smashed door. At the door Chino looked around Davis’s shoulder and yelled, “I have a hostage!”
Then he unleashed several volleys of gunfire before moving away from the door. Chino paced and said, “Oh boy. I’ve done something really bad. I think I killed a cop.
“Come on,” Chino said.
Chino led Davis around the apartment to look out the windows. Davis peeked out. He had never seen so many policemen, some of whom were wearing what looked like combat gear.
Chino paced and said again, “We did something really, really bad!”
LOVE ME OR I’LL KILL YOU
LEE BUTCHER
PINNACLE BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
DEADLY ENCOUNTER
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Many people helped me in writing this book. Mark Ober, Hillsborough County state attorney, was especially generous with his time and resources. He helped me understand some of the finer points of law in this case. Thanks, Mark. Deeann Athan is one of the most passionate defense attorneys I have ever met. She was also generous with her time and insights into this case. Thank you, Deeann. Anne Sheer Weiner, Florida assistant attorney general, went far beyond the call of duty to make sure I had invaluable research materials. Thanks, Anne. My gratitude also goes to the Tampa Police Department, Detective Roberto Batista, and Lieutenant Joe Durkin. Thanks also to Anna Vargas, at the Florida State Attorney’s Office, and to Bonnie Fruchey, who helped proof the manuscript. Thanks to Robin Menendez, of the Hillsborough County State Attorney’s Office. Thank you, Ron Kolwak, of the Tampa Tribune. Most special thanks to my editor at Kensington Books, Michaela Hamilton, who was so kind, encouraging, and inspiring. Thank you, Michaela—and thanks to Jeremie Ruby-Strauss, another fine editor at Kensington.
Prologue
The police were closing in on Nestor “Chino” DeJesus and his girlfriend, Paula Gutierrez. Rage coursed through Chino’s blood as he ran across the hot asphalt parking lot of the Crossings Apartment Complex in Tampa, Florida. Only an hour earlier, they had robbed a branch bank of the Bank of America, less than a mile away.
The cops, those snakes, would never take him alive. He had a MAC-11 submachine gun and he would go down in a blaze of glory, taking as many cops with him as he could. Where in the hell was Paula? They had run out of the building together, but, as usual, she had screwed up and wasn’t there. She was always screwing things up. He was furious with her. Where was she?
They had been inside his mother’s apartment when he heard the police helicopter thundering overhead. The cops had an army looking for them. Chino yelled at Paula.
“Let’s go!”
And then he ran out the door and down the stairs from the second floor. Several cops had arrived and patrol cars, with flashing blue-and-white lights, were starting to surround the complex.
Chino ran across the sizzling-hot parking lot and found no way out. He needed a car. Less than an hour ago, when he and Paula robbed the bank, he had ditched his yellow Nissan Xterra SUV because it was too easy to spot. Now he needed a car to escape from the cops and didn’t have one.
Remembering that there was a veteran’s cemetery across Cleveland Street, Chino turned and headed that way. There were trees and shrubs in the cemetery that he could hide behind while he figured out a way to make his getaway. The July air was hot and muggy, like being in a sauna, and Chino struggled to get enough oxygen. Although he was six feet tall and weighed two hundred pounds, he was a heavy smoker and pot user and was badly out of shape.
At last, he made it into the cemetery. There were live oaks, bushes, and other trees among the headstones, where veterans were buried. Chino looked for a way that he could work himself away from the cops without being spotted. Then he saw a cop, a woman, heading toward him.
He hated cops! He hated almost everyone and everything. The world had never given him a break and everybody was out to get him. Thinking about it enraged him. Now the cop had spotted him. Chino turned and ran back through the cemetery and across Cleveland to the Crossings parking lot. More cop cars were arriving, but he didn’t think anyone had spotted him except the policewoman.
He needed a car. Chino looked around and saw the man who lived next to his apartment come out the door with his keys in his hand. Chino ran toward him, driven by desperation and rage.
As he ran up the outside stairs, he saw Paula in the large courtyard, which was dominated by a huge swimming pool. She was screaming and wore an expression of terror as she ran erratically in the courtyard. First this way, then that, going nowhere, just pumping her legs and flailing her arms.
Chino snatched the keys from the hand of his startled neighbor Mark Kokojan and started to run down the stairs.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Kokojan shouted. “Give me back my keys.”
Chino kept going and Kokojan ran after him.
“Paula!” Chino shouted. “Paula! Come on! Let’s go!”
Chino’s voice seemed to cut through whatever haze Paula was in and she obeyed—as she always did. She was much too afraid of him not to. He beat her for no reason at all, except that she was no good, and could never please him. It was her own fault. Several times he had threatened to kill her, their daughter, and everyone in her family.
She had tried to leave him a dozen times, but she always came back. “The only way you’re leaving me is in a body bag,” he told her.
She heard his voice command her and she ran after him, trailing Kokojan. Paula didn’t hear the sirens screaming. Everything seemed to be happening to somebody else, as if she were watching a movie, that she wasn’t really there. It was all happening in nightmarish slow motion, and she just wanted it to end before Chino hurt somebody.
Chino tried to open Kokojan’s car, but his hand was trembling too much to find the keyhole. He beat on the door with his fist in frustration and anger. Then the policewoman appeared a few yards away.
“Don’t move,” she said. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”
The threat enraged Chino. Who was she to threaten him? His lips curled in a snarl. He raised the MAC-11 submachine gun and fired.
Chapt
er 1
On the morning of July 6, 2001, Paula woke up to find Chino shaking her. There was a wild look on his face and he already seemed to be in a manic state.
“Get up, I need you to fix breakfast.”
Paula, twenty-one, was in a daze. She had been in a fog, off and on, for at least three years, but it had gotten worse in the past year. She didn’t want to get out of bed, she was afraid all the time, and she felt that there was no hope of things ever getting better. She felt like she was in a pit and just sinking deeper and deeper. Much of the time she felt she was on the outside of her life watching somebody else go through the motions of living it.
The only thing Paula could find in the house to eat was oatmeal. There wasn’t even any milk or sugar to have with it. She dutifully prepared the oatmeal and she sat with Chino and her two-year-old daughter, Ashley, to have breakfast.
“We’re going to get some money,” Chino said. “We’ve got less than a dollar between us. We’re gonna get some.”
Paula felt a chill of fear run through her. Four days earlier, Chino had taken her with him while he robbed a flower shop in North Tampa. She didn’t believe it was going to happen until Chino actually did it. They only got $45 from that robbery and Chino had been enraged with Paula.
“Why didn’t you open the cash register and look in there?” he asked.
“You didn’t tell me to.”
“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” He pounded on the steering wheel.
Paula did what Chino told her to do, nothing more or less. She was like a zombie slave. A once beautiful girl with curly dark hair, soft brown eyes, and an ethereal look that made her appear angelic, she now wore a blank expression, kept her eyes downcast, and never smiled.
Back at the apartment, Chino shoved her around and told her she had no brains and was useless, that she couldn’t do anything right. Paula was used to that; her arms were always black-and-blue and she believed him when he told her she was useless. She had been hearing it from him since she was fifteen years old.
Now they were broke again because Chino wouldn’t work. They had no food, less than a dollar, and their Nissan Xterra SUV was about to be repossessed. On top of that, they had to move out of his mother’s apartment today, where they lived rent free. There were a few boxes scattered around that held the few things they owned. They had no idea about where they would go and had no money to get there.
Chino was more hyper than usual. He couldn’t sit still; he paced and ranted about their situation. Chino blamed the “system” for never giving him a break. “It’s slavery,” he said. “If you’re not white, you don’t get a break. They keep you down. The only way you can get anything is to take it.”
This was typical of Chino. He blamed everyone and everything for his problems, but not himself. He accepted no responsibility. Frequently he took his frustration and rage out on Paula, using her as a punching bag, strangling her, threatening to kill her. Then he would become all weepy and apologetic, promising that he would change, that he would never do it again. But he always did.
Just before 10:00 A.M. he ordered her to get dressed. “We’re going out to get some money. I’m going to call my mother to get Ashley.”
Oh, my God, Paula thought. It’s going to be the flower shop all over again. He’s going to rob somebody.
She was terrified, but too afraid to say anything. Chino didn’t like for her to contradict him, or question him in any way, and he might beat her. She didn’t feel that she had a will of her own; she had to do anything Chino wanted her to do.
Chino found the blue bag they had used at the flower shop robbery and opened it. He gave Paula sweatpants, a bandanna, a fishing hat, a long jacket, and sunglasses. He told her to put them on. Something bad was going to happen, she thought. They were going to do something bad.
Paula was in the bedroom changing clothes when Lissette Santiago, Chino’s mother, came to pick up Ashley. Until the past few months, Paula had not let Lissette take care of Ashley, because she didn’t like the woman. But she had been feeling so listless and depressed that she couldn’t even take care of the daughter she loved so much.
Paula didn’t come out of the bedroom to see Lissette. The tension in the apartment was almost unbearable to her, and Chino had that enraged look on his face that terrified her. It meant he was on the brink of exploding in rage and would take it out on somebody, most likely her.
It’s going to happen, Paula told herself. It’s the flower shop robbery all over again.
Why didn’t she just say, “No, I’m not going to do this?” she asked herself. The answer was simple: she was too afraid of Chino to disobey him. Most of the time, it didn’t seem as if she even had a will of her own. Her insides were screaming, “No, no, no, I don’t want to do this.” She was filled with dread. She wanted nothing more than just to run, but all Chino had to do was snap his fingers and she did whatever he wanted.
They got in the bright yellow SUV and Chino drove around in what seemed to be an aimless way. He was tense, nervous, and silent. He kept driving around, not saying anything, but was in a heightened state of excitement. Paula didn’t know where they were going.
“We need money,” Chino said. “We’re going to take it.”
Chino’s driving had not been without purpose, after all. He had been casing the Bank of America branch at Church and Neptune, in North Tampa. Chino told her to put on the bandanna and sunglasses. To Paula, things seemed to be happening in quick time and she didn’t seem to be there. Her overriding emotion, she said, was fear of what was about to happen.
“We’re going to rob the bank,” he told her. “Are you ready?”
“No, I don’t want to.”
“We’re going to rob the bank,” he told her again.
I don’t want to do this, she thought. What will happen if Chino goes in and I don’t? The thought made her shudder. There was nothing that could happen inside the bank, she thought, that would be as bad as what would happen if she disobeyed him. Chino would kill her.
Chino stopped the car beside the bank, not far from the front door, and told Paula to put the bandanna over her face. In her haste she tied it too low on her face to suit him.
“No, like this,” Chino said, doing it for her. “You have to cover your nose.”
Chino handed her the gun.
“You have to do this,” he said. “You have to hold the gun while I get the money. You didn’t do a good job getting money the last time.”
“I don’t want to.”
“We’re going to do it.”
Chino’s words were commands. She was too afraid to say no.
Inside, she was screaming, “I don’t want to do this. I just hope he drives away.” But he didn’t, and then everything started to happen really fast. Time was a blur to her and Chino was hyper with excitement and had a glazed look in his eyes.
He’s rushing me, rushing me, Paula thought. I’m not ready.
“You’re going to stand there with the gun,” he said firmly. “Just do it.”
He parked the SUV. “We’re going into the bank,” he said.
“No, I don’t want to,” Paula said. “I’m scared.”
“We’re going in.”
Then he opened the car door. Paula stopped thinking about what would happen if she committed a crime. She thought, If Chino finds out I’m not in there, I’m going to get it. She told a detective later, “When we drove there, it happened real quick, and when he handed me everything, it was really quick. When he jumped out, it was quick, but when I sat there, it was . . . it was like long, like a movie, like a slow movie; when I was thinking about that, and then that’s when I jumped out, and then everything else was fast. So that’s when I jumped out of the car and I went into the bank.”
Trembling with fear and excitement, the two robbers got out of the bright yellow Xterra. Chino had told Paula that with the baggy pants, hat, and bandanna, no one would be able to tell that she was a woman. It would make them harder to identify later. Chi
no didn’t think about how suspicious they might look to people passing by. Few people with good intentions entered a bank wearing a bandanna over their faces and carrying a submachine gun.
Chino burst into the bank and Paula followed, holding the gun. “Everybody down!” he yelled. “Everybody down! Keep your heads down! Don’t move!”
Chino kept shouting the same instructions and ran toward the tellers, where the cash was. There were about a dozen people in the bank. Paula, scared to death of what Chino might do if anyone moved, saw Chino leap over the tellers’ counter. She yelled, “Keep your heads down. Don’t move!”
She heard Chino screaming, “Keep your heads down.”
Paula saw people raising their heads to see what was going on. She thought, If Chino sees that, he’s going to get real mad. He doesn’t need the gun, he can kick them or something. She continued to scream, “Keep your heads down!”
Chino and Paula didn’t know it, but their escapade had turned into a disaster before they even entered the bank.
Jim Cunningham was passing by the Bank of America outlet when he saw two suspicious characters go inside. He telephoned Emergency 911.
“Nine-one-one,” the dispatcher answered.
“There’s a bank robbery in progress,” Cunningham told the operator.
“Can you calm down and tell me what you see?” the dispatcher asked.
“Well, two men ran into the store (bank) with masks and a blue bag.”
“How many?”
“Two men,” Cunningham repeated.
“Are they still there?” the operator queried.
“I have no idea, ma’am. I’m trying to hide because I’m a little scared.”
Just earlier, Curt Jennings had passed by and saw an oddly dressed couple double-park and run into the bank. One had a gun. Jennings hid and dialed 911 and reported what he thought was a robbery in progress.
Sevtap Delarocha, a teller at the Bank of America branch bank, was sandwiched between “the two Joannes,” Joanne McCullough and Joanne Coppola, when she saw Chino and Paula enter.
