Beck carefully checked the ballistics report on Packy while Walter continued.
“Of course, the detective’s reports aren’t up to date, but I had a chance to talk to Levitt after I went through everything. He supervises the precinct detective squad. As I said, they had a meeting at one o’clock with the assistant district attorney assigned to Packy’s case. Levitt confirmed his detectives have witnesses that will testify that James shot Derrick Watkins, and that Derrick Watkins shot Paco Johnson, which they claim is your motive for shooting Watkins.”
Beck asked, “Where’d they get these witnesses?”
“Levitt didn’t explain, but when he asked me to help locate Demarco and Manny, who are listed on my parole roster, I pushed him about the witnesses. He wrote their names on a Post-it. I stuck it on Palmer’s last report.”
Beck compared the names on the sticky note with Alex’s printout of the IDs they’d taken from the crew at Mount Hope Place.
Walter said, “I’m sorry to say, the assistant DA will be issuing arrest warrants very soon. Levitt wasn’t exactly forthcoming about when, but I’m guessing Monday, latest. They want to arrest you for the murder of Derrick Watkins. Ciro for the attempted murder of Detective John Palmer. Manny and Demarco for shooting Jerome Watkins and Tyrell Williams.”
Beck held up the Post-it note. “And their proof I shot Watkins are these bullshit witnesses?”
“Apparently.”
“And they’re saying they were in that apartment at the time?”
“Yes.”
Demarco said, “Doesn’t matter if they were there or not, James didn’t shoot Derrick Watkins.”
Walter said, “Then I guess all four are lying. Which begs the question, who did shoot him?”
Demarco interrupted. “Which begs the better question, where did they get those fake witnesses?”
Manny spoke up, “I’d say from the boss, Eric Jackson. How else they gonna come up with witnesses so fast in a neighborhood where everybody learns to keep their mouths shut? I’m betting all those stooges are part of his set.”
Ciro emerged from the stairwell and headed for the table. “Wouldn’t be the first time cops and crooks conspired.”
Ciro took a seat, and Walter asked, “Why? What does Jackson get out of it?”
Manny answered, “Jackson gave them witnesses. They probably gave Jackson information on us.”
Beck interrupted, “And their proof Derrick Watkins shot Packy are these same witnesses?”
“One of them. I think the one named Morris. Says he saw Derrick Watkins shoot Packy. Two others are hearsay witnesses. But also important, James, according to the ballistics report the bullet removed from Packy matches one of the guns the police found at the Mount Hope Place apartment. They’re saying it belonged to Derrick Watkins. Has his prints on it.”
Beck nodded. He’d already read that in the report.
“As for Manny and Demarco, they claim to have one eyewitness at the scene, a woman who gave a description that fits Manny and Demarco as the shooters on Hoe Avenue. Plus, they have an image from a security camera about a half block away. I took a picture of it. It’s in that pile.”
Beck shifted his gaze from the ballistics report to the blurry image of Manny and Demarco. He held it up. “They actually think this is evidence?”
“Well, it’s my picture of the photo in the report. But it’s not much different from what I saw. Plus, of course, their witness at the scene.”
Beck frowned and sat back. He folded his arms, retreating into himself.
Walter didn’t add any more information or interrupt Beck’s thoughts.
After a moment, Beck said, “And the case against Ciro is Detective Palmer claiming he can identify a man from a block away shooting at him with a twelve-gauge shotgun.”
Walter answered, “That’s what his affidavit says. There’s a note in there about them still canvassing for more witnesses in all the locations.
“James, minimum they can violate Ciro, Manny, and Demarco for multiple parole violations. Levitt wants me to contact Ciro’s parole supervisor on Staten Island. And they’re going to arrest you for murder. They may never convict any of you, but they have grounds. I don’t see any of you avoiding jail until it gets sorted out.”
Beck leaned forward and said to Walter, “I know you’ve been put in the middle of this, Walter. You’ve got your obligations to the NYPD and Department of Correction, and your loyalties to us, and to the truth. But I don’t want you to worry. This information you’ve given us will make it possible for us to get to the truth and defend ourselves against what I’m sure you realize are false charges. It’s much appreciated.”
Beck stood and reached his hand out to Walter. Walter stood and shook hands with Beck.
“Walter, thank you. For everything. You’ve had a long day, especially after yesterday.”
“I’m fine. You look like you had a terrible time after I left you. What happened?”
Beck waved it off. “There were some very unpleasant people up there. Don’t worry about it.” Beck motioned toward the papers on the table. “Between what I found out upstate and all this, there’s a lot going on here, Walter. It’s going to take awhile to sort it out. I want you to get some rest.”
Walter grimaced. “I should have gone up to the Bronx the minute I heard Packy had pulled that stunt hitchhiking in.”
Beck said, “Walter, what’s done is done. I promise you, we’re going to take care of this. Just get some rest. We’re going to need you.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
As he walked out of Beck’s loft, the men thanked Walter. Nobody spoke until they heard the door downstairs close. Demarco broke the silence with an uncharacteristic curse.
“Shit! Minimum they’re gonna try to send us back to prison and nail you for a murder, James.”
“None of us is going anywhere. How’s the girl? Is she all right?”
Manny spoke, “She’s in one piece. Keeping to herself.”
Beck said, “We’re not the only ones jammed up here. If we get rid of the murder charges against us, that leaves the girl open for the murders.”
Demarco said, “You’re right. If they stop looking at us for it, at some point they might figure out it was her.”
Ciro said, “Fucking hell, we got a piece of shit who’s running a crime empire on the backs of women, the same fuck behind Packy gettin’ popped, and now he’s jamming us up supplying witnesses to the cops.”
Demarco said, “And looking to kill Packy’s kid.”
Manny said, “And us, amigo. You know they’re coming after us, and they got lots of young guns with them trying to make a mark.”
Beck sat, arms crossed, frowning.
Everybody fell silent, waiting for Beck, who appeared to be falling into a darker and angrier mood with each passing moment.
Finally, Manny asked, “You got a way out of this, James? Or is it time to close shop and disappear?”
Beck looked up, breaking out of his reverie.
“We’re not running, and we’re not going back to prison.”
“So what are we gonna do?”
“First I have to decide if I’m going to tell that young girl I’m going to kill the man who murdered her father.”
That caused a moment of silence. And then Demarco asked, “You know who?”
“Yes. Detective John Palmer.”
58
Detective John Palmer and Raymond Ippolito parked on 174th Street, within sight of the Bronx River Houses. Juju Jackson sat in the backseat of their unmarked car. Ippolito at the wheel. Eric Jackson had called them ten minutes after they’d finished their meeting with Frederick Wilson, demanding a meeting.
Jackson started the conversation.
“You got my witnesses, right.”
Ippolito said, “Yeah. It looks good. What’s the problem?”
“Time for you to keep up your end of the bargain. I got to move on that crew, now.”
“Jeezus Christ, Er
ic, we just met with the ADA. We’re getting everything worked out.”
“You didn’t hear what happened last night?”
Palmer asked, “What?”
“That crew took out four of my best guys at the Expressway Motel, and nearly killed another one who was with Whitey.”
Ippolito said, “That motel isn’t in our precinct. It’s in the Four-Three. What the hell happened?”
“I just told you what happened. I got to hit that crew. Now.”
“How do you know it was Beck’s crew? What were your boys doing?”
“It was Beck’s crew. You going to give me what you promised or not?”
Palmer turned around to talk to Jackson.
“Listen, we’re setting this up for you perfect. You’re going to be able to clean house in one shot.”
“What the hell you talkin’ about?”
“I said we’re setting this up.”
“How? When?”
“Couple of days, max. All you’re going to need is one car of good shooters.”
Ippolito looked at Palmer. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Jackson said, “How? Where?”
“All right, we’re taking a huge risk, but here’s the plan. Like we told you, Beck’s crew consists of four guys. That’s it. Only four.”
Jackson said, “How do you know?”
“Trust me. We’ve scraped all the NYPD files. It’s just the four of them. Like I said before, they probably have connections to other guys, but that’s the crew.”
“Go on.”
“Our original deal was two for us, two for you, right? I’m going to deliver three of them to you, unarmed. The whole crew except for Beck, okay? Unarmed, in one place where you can set up to take them out. You’ll have a clear shot at all three. You can plan escape routes and be gone in five seconds. How’s that sound?”
“Like bullshit.”
“It isn’t. We just now got word from our precinct commander. The top brass has stepped in. The NYPD wants James Beck taken down, whatever it takes. Today is Friday. We’ve been running around getting everything organized. We’re getting arrest warrants for all four. Tomorrow, Saturday, there’s going to be an all-day meeting to organize the arrest teams serving the warrants. The troops go in after them Sunday, early Monday morning, latest. They’ll get processed initially wherever we pick them up, but at some point, all of them will be sent to Bronx Criminal Court on 161st for arraignment.”
“I still ain’t heard how we gonna get a shot at them.”
Palmer spoke slowly and precisely. “Once they get arrested and into processing, they obviously won’t be armed. They won’t be anywhere near a weapon. I’m going to know where they are every step of the way. I’m going to mess with the evidence a little so that Guzman, Baldassare, and Jones will make bail.”
“Bullshit. Them guys gotta have heavy records. How’s the judge not going to remand them?”
“Trust me, all I gotta do is lose a few pages of material. They’ll have a good lawyer. And money. But if the judge doesn’t let ’em post bail, so what? They’ll be sent to Rikers and be out of your hair. You’ll have plenty of time to take care of them inside if you want.”
Ippolito knew Palmer was lying about Baldassare. He’d already supplied Wilson with an affidavit he’d signed. But he might be right about Jones and Guzman.
Jackson asked, “What about Beck?”
“Forget about Beck. I told you, he’s going down. He’s not getting bail. Nobody really gives a shit about the other three. All you have to do then is be ready when they walk out of court. You can have men on the street, or do it as a drive-by, or both. Whatever way you want. I leave that up to you. They walk out of the Bronx courthouse, unarmed, all three in one place, and your guys take ’em out. End of story. Done.”
Jackson muttered, “Christ.”
“What?”
“Outside the courthouse? Place is crawling with cops.”
“No it’s not. Not out front. Cops come in and out, but rarely through the front. And they don’t guard the front. There’s more correction officers or court police than NYPD, but they’re mostly inside, too. Out front is a bunch of losers smoking and drinking coffee waiting to go into court.
“If you don’t want to do it in front of the court, fine. Wait for the three of them to come out. They’ll probably have a car waiting for them. They get into their car. You follow the car. Pick the best place. Take ’em all out. Blast the crap out of the one car. Kill them all. We’re done. You won’t get a better opportunity, ever. You can’t get in the way of these arrests. But you can take your shot if you want it.”
Silence descended in the car. Ippolito looked at Palmer. In twenty-two years on the force he had never seen, or even heard of a cop conspiring with a criminal to assassinate three men. His only thought was how to get as far away as possible from John Palmer.
Jackson asked, “And you can track ’em every step of the way?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be in the court. I’ll have to be available if they want me to appear at the arraignments. I’ll know when they’re heading out. When they make bail, I can even go behind the courtroom and find out when they finish their paperwork.”
“And this ADA ain’t gonna get them remanded?”
“Can I guarantee he won’t? No. Yeah, they all have records, but like I said they’re going to have a damn good lawyer. And I’ll make sure he has grounds. Nothing is guaranteed, but this is a hell of a lot better than your people running all over trying to find these guys.”
Jackson looked at his watch.
“It’s Friday. When you say they’re going to start arresting these assholes?”
“Sunday, early Monday morning. You won’t have to wait long.”
“Good, cuz I ain’t. And if we find any of these assholes beforehand, we’ll shoot ’em down like dogs, and you can use your warrants to wipe your asses with.”
59
Demarco knew better than to doubt Beck, but he still couldn’t believe what he’d heard.
“You’re saying that cop shot Packy?”
“Yes. Detective John Palmer shot Packy.”
Beck held up the copy of the ballistics report on the bullet removed from Packy. “According to this, the bullet that killed Packy was a twenty-two from a gun they found in Watkins’s apartment at Mount Hope Place.” He held up another page. “Here’s an inventory of the guns.” He held up a third page. “Here’s a photo of all the guns laid out next to the pillowcases I put them in.” Beck pointed to one of the guns in the picture. “This gun is a Phoenix Arms HP twenty-two. The gun ballistics says it fired the bullet that killed Packy.”
Beck paused, waiting for any reactions. There were none.
“I wiped down every gun we took off those guys and put them in those pillowcases. None of ’em was a twenty-two. They were all nines, except for one forty caliber. So how the hell did the Phoenix twenty-two get into one of those pillowcases?”
Manny Guzman asked, “It was in the pillowcase with the others? Cops didn’t find it somewhere else in the apartment?”
“No. The report says all those guns were in the pillowcases. If the cops found that twenty-two someplace else in the apartment, why put it in a pillowcase? And, it’s the only gun with the serial number filed off. And, the only gun with prints on it.”
“Derrick Watkins’s prints.”
“Correct, but remember, I wiped down every gun. Palmer’s report says he led the search of that apartment right after we left. And all of a sudden a small caliber untraceable gun appears? That’s the perfect cop throwaway piece. He was the only cop on the scene who knew about Derrick Watkins’s involvement with Packy. He brought the gun into the apartment. He saw Watkins dead … “
Demarco broke in, “And used it to pin Paco’s murder on Derrick Watkins.”
“Exactly.” Beck held up more pages. “He knew that gun killed Packy, because he used it to shoot Packy. With Derrick laying there dead, he had a chance to put Der
rick’s prints on the twenty-two. Then he adds the Phoenix to the other guns. Now he’s got someone to take the fall for shooting Packy. A dead man who can’t deny it. He had the gun that shot Packy. He shot Packy. He used it to solve his case.”
Manny asked, “But why? What was his motive? He didn’t know Packy. Packy hadn’t been in that neighborhood for seventeen years.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense unless there’s a connection between John Palmer and Packy Johnson.”
“What’s the connection?”
“Walter helped me find a senior guard at Eastern, Oswald Remsen, who was running a prostitution ring with his two sons, both of them guards at Eastern. I can’t prove it yet, but I’m betting his third son, Edward, worked with Eric Jackson to supply Oswald Remsen with prostitutes.”
Manny asked, “How? What’s the connection?”
“Edward Remsen is a guard at Sing Sing. Plenty of guys from the Bronx are in that prison. I’m figuring one or more of them connected to Eric Jackson hooked up Edward Remsen with Jackson. The Watkins brothers have been recruiting and running prostitutes for years. Jackson was their boss. I got Oswald Remsen to admit a new inmate up at Eastern tipped Packy off about his daughter prostituting for Jackson’s crew. I think Packy knew about Oswald’s prostitution business. I think he believed his daughter, Amelia, was going to be shipped upstate to prostitute for Oswald Remsen.”
Manny said, “Shit, his daughter getting whored out for a corrupt CO—that would’ve definitely sent Packy over the deep end.”
“It did. That’s why he headed straight for Bronx River Houses to get his daughter. But I still haven’t explained Palmer’s motive.” Beck held up the ledger books Amelia had found. “If Derrick Watkins was making three hundred thousand a year with his stable, Oswald Remsen had to be making much more. Maybe millions. Now here’s where it connects to Palmer. Turns out Oswald Remsen was also a big wheel in the correction officers’ union. When things went down up there between us, he denied ordering anybody to kill Packy, but said he had the connections to do it. Said he’d ‘paid his dues.’
“I didn’t know what that meant. Who he was connected to? Before I came back here, I went online. It took about five minutes to figure out the correction officers’ union does a ton of lobbying in Albany. The chief lobbyist for the New York correction officers’ union is John Palmer Senior.”
Bronx Requiem Page 30
