Enemy in Blue

by Derek Blass

  F O R T Y

  __________________________________________________

  Martinez rolled around in bed. Carmen had been gone for a week visiting Raul. The bloated faces of the dead racked his brain. Jerome, Isabella, Max, Alicia and Williams. The list went on and on. The first three bothered him the most because they were unsolved. No one doubted Shaver killed Max. He was the only one with a motive to do it. However, the scene of the crime turned up nothing. The Jerome and Isabella murders carried the stench of Shaver with them, but the connections were too tenuous. With Tyler gone now, who knows if they'd ever be able to make sense of it all.

  He grabbed an old T-shirt and jumped into some athletic shorts. He went to his front door and stepped outside. The cold concrete patio felt good on the pads of his feet. The street was quiet except for a pair of people taking their morning walk. He reached down to grab the day's paper and the morning breeze ran over his face. His cell phone rang before he could open the newspaper.

  “This is Martinez,” he answered.

  “Martinez, it's Cruz. Mason is going to meet me downtown in about an hour at the Crazy Sid's coffee shop. Can you make it?”

  “It's Sunday.”

  “He wants the story of what happened to Tyler directly from us. We've also got to talk about the trial. There's a motions hearing in about a week that you need to testify at.”

  “About what? The video?”

  “Primarily the video. Sphinx moved to exclude it. Nothing surprising, but we've got to fight it with all we've got.”

  “All right then, I can be there in an hour.” He hung up the phone and tucked the paper under his arm. He went inside the house and changed out of his shorts for some running pants. Kept the old T-shirt and gave his teeth a superficial brush. He pulled his lips back in the mirror to check his teeth, then stood there a moment. It had been a while since he had taken account of his physical condition. Black hair was ceding to gray in places. Bags like black half moons were starting to form under his eyes. He was still built, but his muscle tone was slowly disappearing. His brown eyes looked dull and tired. Martinez grabbed tweezers out of a cup on the sink and plucked a gray hair out of his nose.

  “Damn,” he said as his eyes watered.

  The ride downtown went by fast. Hardly anyone was out on the roads. Plus, Carmen called him to tell him about Raul.

  “He's struggling with the loss of his legs.”

  “I bet. That's fully understandable,” Martinez said. “When do you think you'll be back?”

  “I wasn't exactly going to rush back. Raul needs me, and I doubt it's safe back home yet.”

  “Honestly, it's probably safer now than it ever was before. The Chief is dead. Tyler's dead. Shaver's in the can. He's obviously still pulling strings from the inside, but I don't see him getting to us. If Raul needs you though, then stay down there.”

  “How are you holding up alone?” she asked.

  “All right. I miss you, but I'm pretty self-sufficient.”

  “Barely. I bet there are clothes piled up around the house waiting for me when I get back.”

  “There are some piles,” Martinez said, chagrined. She was one of the few that could break through his generally rough exterior.

  “Well, leave them there for me. I'll take care of them for you.” He didn't say it but he missed her immensely. That machismo thing prevented him from fully opening up, even at this stage in their marriage. Without her around, he had nobody. They exchanged goodbyes and hung up.

  Martinez parallel parked into a spot in front of the coffee shop. Mason and Cruz were already waiting at an outside table.

  “I came as soon as you called.”

  “Looks like it,” Cruz said jokingly.

  “Shit, you two are the last people I'd dress up for.” He sat down at the table. Mason had a pad of yellow paper and a pen. Cruz was sipping on something. “Is that a tea?” Martinez asked incredulously.

  “Chai.”

  “Chai tea,” Mason chided, joining in with Martinez.

  Mason extended his hand to Martinez, “Nice to finally meet you in person.” They shook hands and Martinez plunked down into his chair.

  “Open your horizons, fellas. Teas are a great source of relaxation. Look at the Asian cultures. They are much healthier than us and most...” Cruz saw the blank expressions on both men's faces and stopped. “That hole was getting deep.”

  A waitress came by and Martinez asked for a black coffee. Mason doubled up the order. “That's how it's done,” Martinez said.

  “Don't get all uppity and macho with me, Martinez. You forget that you're sitting at a coffee shop on a Sunday morning with two other guys. That machismo only gets you so far.”

  “Kidding aside,” Mason said, “what the hell happened out there with Tyler?”

  “You saw it, didn't you?” Cruz asked. “That's all there was to it. A car chase that ended with Tyler dead.”

  “Was there anything at the scene that could be helpful? Something from his car?”

  “Nah,” Martinez answered. “Some surveillance gear. A few guns. Nothing else helpful.”

  “Did someone get the guns to forensics to see if they match up to any unsolved ones?”

  “I assume. I wasn't handling the scene,” Martinez said.

  “I don't know what to do with those cold cases anymore,” Mason said.

  “Jerome and Isabella?” Cruz asked.

  “Yeah. They went ice cold when Tyler got run over.”

  “Dead ends again,” Cruz muttered, visibly frustrated.

  Changing subjects, Mason said, “We have a big hearing coming up next week. Judge Melburn is going to decide whether to let the video into evidence. It's time to revert our focus to this case.”

  “Before we move on, one thing's been buggin' me,” Martinez said in a low voice. “I want one more trip to Shaver's house. He's a sociopathic killer—there's no doubt about that. Sociopaths usually keep some trophies from their kills. It's something they can go back to for their feelings of control. I've seen it in other cases. I think we've missed something big there.”

  “I'll help you get a warrant so you can search the house. Maybe Cruz can go with you.” Cruz nodded although he was a little sick of being volunteered for things. Mason volunteered him to track down and capture Tyler and that went like hell. Now he was volunteered to go right back into the lion's den. Whether the lion is there or not didn't seem to make much difference. Who knows what secrets that house contained.

  “Back to the business at hand. We've got a hearing on some preliminary matters, but also the issue of the video. Cruz, I'm going to need you to prepare Martinez to testify that he took the drive directly from the cameraman.” When neither man answered, Mason added, “I hope this isn't too much for either of you. Something wrong?”

  “This is very personal for both of us,” Cruz said. “Martinez lost his partner trying to preserve this video. I came face to face with...” Cruz paused and the other men looked at him. They could tell he was holding something back, but a mix of early morning density and the general stupor accompanying guys and sensitive things kept them silent. Cruz went on, “The fact we are here, to this point of using the video, and that some asshole judge is going to decide if we can use it bothers me.”

  “Me too,” Martinez added.

  “Obviously, I know how this works, but I've never been on this side of things. Shoot, I'm usually the one arguing to exclude evidence like this,” Cruz realized. “If the judge keeps the video out after all this effort, I may lose my faith in this whole process.”

  Mason understood their sentiment. He was frequently on the side of having excellent evidence excluded on some technicality. “I get you guys. The rules are the rules though. The chain of custody on this video is shot. I'm not expecting anything, but hopefully Judge Melburn will have some sympathy and allow us to prove that chain otherwise.”

  “A sympathetic judge—now that's wishing!” Cruz said.

  “Sometimes that's all yo
u've got,” Mason said rather melancholy. “Next Thursday at eight-thirty in the morning. Get Martinez ready.”

  F O R T Y-O N E

  __________________________________________________

  Shaver crouched next to some shaded bleachers. Signs of spring were all around the yard. The hard concrete couldn't keep back nature as her delicate fingers pushed up through cracks and blew pollen all over.

  He wondered if it could be as easy as he planned. Mills, Pick and the rest of the Aryan Brotherhood sprawled out on the bleachers, wasting the day away. On the streets, these gangs killed each other for territory, women, drugs, weapons, and pride. The jail had plenty of territory, drug and pride issues. All he had to do—he figured—was stir up one of those to start the killing. It was that easy on the streets, so why would anything be different in here?

  He remained doubtful despite the reasoning. His knees ached so he stood up. Mills lazily opened one of his eyes and watched Shaver.

  “Whatchu so restless abou'?”

  Shaver looked at Mills, not knowing he was being watched. “Nothing,” he said. He got close to the ground, smelling it and doing some push-ups. Then he grunted and walked in a direct line toward the Emes.

  Mills nudged Pick as he watched Shaver get closer to the Eme territory. The Eme's had one of the bleachers in the sun, so half of their gang was missing, scattered around places in the yard with shade. “Whud the fuck...” Mills groaned as he sat up.

  As Shaver approached the bleachers he saw the gang member that had harassed him several weeks ago. He also saw that members of the Guerillas were watching him intently. Witnesses to his next act. The Eme members were all laying on the lower portions of each bleacher seat, the foot-resting portion. Shaver counted four of them. His pace quickened as he neared the bleachers. There was a whistle, and then he thought he heard Mills scream out, “Shaver!!”

  Shaver reached the bleachers and grabbed the lieutenant. With both hands full of shirt, Shaver yanked the man from the bleachers and threw him onto the concrete. “This one's from the Aryan Brothers, you fuck.” And then Shaver began to pound on his face like a jackhammer. He rained fists down on the man who had been unable to even muster a word before Shaver knocked him out. His head bounced on the concrete as Shaver developed a devastating rhythm of punches. Shaver felt blows to his own head but ignored them. Someone was trying to pull him off of the gang member but he squeezed his legs around the man's waist and hung tight.

  He heard Mills and Pick screaming at him. They sounded confused. Then the hitting and pulling on him stopped. Mills, Pick and the rest of the Aryan brothers in the yard were fighting with the Eme. Shaver looked down at the man in front of him, who was nearly unrecognizable. His forehead and lips were swollen in a caveman bloat. The man had spit out teeth. Some were on the ground next to him, a couple rested on his chin, stuck there by saliva and blood. Shaver rolled off of him and onto his back on the ground. He struggled to catch his breath, gasping from the effort.

  The fighting was going on all around him. Mills had an Eme member in a headlock and was squeezing the life out of him. Pick was locked in a ground wrestling match. The familiar sirens of the prison wailed their long tones. Shaver watched as an Eme gang member rushed an Aryan Brother from behind with something in his hand. Turned out it was a shiv, which the gang member used to jab the Aryan Brother in the neck. Blood spurted out from in between the brother's fingers as he fell to the ground.

  Then Shaver's head slammed sideways. His world grew fuzzy. Another impact and all was dark.

  * * * *

  The judge looked impatiently at Mason and Sphinx. “Mr. Sphinx, is your client going to attend the hearing today?”

  “No, your Honor. I told your clerk that Sergeant Shaver was violently and brutally attacked while in prison. He's still recovering in the prison hospital.

  “Do we need him here today for these motions?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Let's proceed then. What motion shall we start with?”

  “The motion in limine to exclude the videotape as evidence,” Mason said.

  “Okay,” Judge Melburn said, “I've read the fully briefed issue and stand ready to rule unless the State has anything to add.”

  Mason was taken aback. “Your Honor, I understood this was supposed to be a hearing on the issues presented in the motion, and that you would reserve ruling until after hearing the testimony of the State's witness. How could you stand ready to rule before hearing that witness?”

  “Excuse me, counsel,” Judge Melburn said angrily, “but I think I know how much evidence I need to consider to rule. I have been doing this for thirty-two years!”

  “Your Honor, the State's entire argument against excluding the video rests with this witness behind me,” Mason said, pointing to Martinez.

  “I understand that counsel, and that's exactly why I stand ready to rule. Do you really intend to prove chain of custody through a witness that conducted an improper and unauthorized arrest of the defendant in this case? Is that the testimony you hope this Court will use to deny the motion? Because if it is, I stand ready to rule.”

  Mason stood speechless at counsel table. In all his years of practice, he had never seen anything like this. Judge Melburn was pre-judging his evidence. “Your Honor, the State has a right to present its evidence without the Court pre-determining the weight of testimony. This certainly constitutes reversible error and...”

  Judge Melburn shot up from his chair and pointed a bony finger at Mason. “One more word and I will hold you in contempt counsel. You do not threaten this Court with an appeal!” Mason stood with his hands on the table in front of him. He hung his head in disbelief. Judge Melburn sat back down and let out a bit of air through pursed lips. “Your gall, counsel, will not get you far in my Court.”

  Mason turned around to Cruz who looked equally befuddled, without a clue as to what to do. Mason next looked at Sphinx who seemed to share a feeling of disbelief. Mason didn't understand what was happening. It was outrightly incorrect, discrimination almost. “The State would still like to present its witness for the record.”

  “Great, waste the Court's time,” Judge Melburn muttered.

  Mason peeked up at the judge who was shuffling something around at his bench. The collar around Mason's neck felt like it was squeezing the breath out of him. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “The State calls Roman Martinez.”

  Martinez stood up and walked hesitantly to the witness box. Mason mustered a nod of his head and pointed to him that he was going the right way. This was a farce, Mason thought to himself. Something was going on—he had never seen a judge act like this. He looked over at Sphinx who appeared to be similarly mystified. It couldn't have been him. This had all the smack of higher powers, people beyond both of them pulling strings.

  Martinez was sworn in and Mason went through his direct examination. How did you know Max Silverman? Where did he work? When did you meet him? Did he ever give you anything? When, where? Martinez did well through the line of questioning. He described that Max was able to save the original video from the camera and that he protected it up until giving it to the district attorney's office.

  Judge Melburn interrupted the direct examination, “So you are a material witness in the murder of several people involved in this case, as well as the arrest of the defendant. And you are testifying as to the veracity of that videotape?” Mason slammed his pencil down and stared at the judge. He tried to continue his direct examination but the judge interrupted him. “I would like an answer to those questions.”

  “I'm not testifying as to the veracity of anything, Judge,” Martinez answered. “I'm just testifying that he gave me what he said was the video of Shaver killing Livan Rodriguez.” Judge Melburn grunted and motioned to Mason to continue. Mason finished his direct examination and Sphinx didn't even bother with a cross. Why rock the boat?

  “The State calls Cruz...”

  “Another witness, counsel? I've told you wh
at the outcome of this is going to be.”

  “We have a right to put on our evidence, Your Honor!!” The blood had boiled right up to Mason's head. Even Judge Melburn seemed taken aback—for a moment.

  “Counsel, one more outburst like that...”

  Then Mason completely lost it. “One more outburst like this?!” he yelled as he flung papers over his shoulder into the gallery behind him. “Or how about this!” he screamed while kicking the podium onto its side. Two bailiffs rushed into the courtroom.

  “Take that man into custody. I am holding you in contempt of this Court...”

  “Screw your contempt! You've fixed this...”

  “...and if you stop now I will only give you one day of jail time...”

  “...you've fixed this hearing and the trial. You're a coward! An innocent man is dead and you're playing fucking games!”

  “That'll be two days.” The bailiffs had almost pulled Mason out of the courtroom, his mouth frothing. He grabbed onto a door frame and made one last, fruitless demonstration of resistance before he vanished. “Well, that was quite a display,” Judge Melburn said with a cough. “My ruling...”

  Cruz stood up, turned his back to the judge and started to walk out of the courtroom. Martinez and Sandra saw him and also got up to leave. “My ruling is that the videotape be excluded. No further demonstrations such as the State's will be tolerated in this matter.”

  Cruz got to the courtroom doors and pushed through them for some much-needed space. Sandra caught up to him. Her eyes were wide, outlined in black. “What happened in there, Cruz?” Martinez stood next to them silently.

  “I don't know. I've never seen a judge act like that. It was obvious that the judge was biased. He ruled before even hearing evidence. I just don't know.”