Path to Justice

by Jim Dutton

  Encinas slowly raised his hands above his head. “No need to get excited gentlemen. I will cooperate. I’m sure there has been some mistake.”

  Luis, who was blocked by Puma from the agents who had burst in from the front, turned and clamored towards the rear door of the stall. The third mucker, HSI Agent Jerry Slater, grabbed a shovel he’d been shoveling shit with and threw it towards Luis’ lower legs. Luis tripped, went to the right, tried to regain his balance and fell headlong into the muck pile in the right corner of the stall. The green-brown ooze did nothing for his white silk shirt and tailored European suit. As one of the other agents went over to cuff him, Jerry pulled out his iPhone. To no one in particular, Jerry said, “Nick and Ana have got to see photos of this.”

  The bodyguards and the drug lords were hustled out the back into waiting police cars. Encinas was slotted for Orange County and Luis for San Diego MCC. Sendow was also cuffed and taken away in a separate police car in full view of Luis and Encinas. Except Sendow was taken directly to the airport for his flight to Maui where he’d board a commuter plane to Molokai.

  The “track official”, an agent of the arrest team, came back into the stall with the owner after he got the all clear sign. One of the “muckers” explained to the owner that they had left to make bets on the race. “A Mr. Gomez-Encinas said to thank you for your hospitality and he’ll be in touch.”

  Puma Sopresa seemed to take it all in stride—like it was an everyday occurrence for humans to hit each other over the head and throw a shovel. Jerry reported to Mario that all was fine, even the horse. Mario thought, What the hell. I have a spare $100. If Luis and Encinas couldn’t bet that day, I can. Puma was betting at 8 to 1 odds when he put money down on the filly to place. Mario hoped that Puma would come in first or second. He wasn’t going to be greedy. Getting $400 or $500 back on a hundred would do.

  Nick swore to himself that he would never place himself in this situation again. To hear what was going on, but not be hooked up to communicate to the agents, was hell. He’d never have let Ana be in a room alone with Sanchez. What was she thinking? Nick entered the security office as the fifth race was running. He saw Mario looking at the video screen of the live race with the head of track security, Sam Fuller. Ana was talking with Pepe by the security office. Nick grabbed her arm and said to her and Pepe that he had to talk to her in private. He dragged her into Fuller’s office and closed the door.

  “What in the hell do you think you were doing? You scared the living daylights out of me. How could you endanger yourself like that?” Nick was livid and crazed.

  “This is getting old Nick—big hulks dragging me into private rooms and closing the door. I’ve had enough of that for one day. Calm down. I’m safe. You’ve said that we always need to be ready to improvise. This was needed. We took them down. Now just give me a hug.” Nick lost himself in their embrace, several tears making their way down his cheeks. A shout from the other room separated them.

  Mario was yelling, “C’mon Puma! C’mon!” With twenty lengths on the turf track to go, Puma was edging up on the outside, a half a length behind the second place horse. With a final burst, Puma nosed out the horse to come in second. “Five hundred bucks! Five hundred bucks! Drinks are on me!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Nick rolled into the office late on Friday. He still had the taste of scotch and cigars in his mouth from last night’s impromptu celebration at Days End. The entire team went there after completing the paperwork on the arrests. The arrests at the other locations went down with no problems. The Sakias and Hector Morales were at their offices. Various, lower level cartel members were arrested for their drug distribution activities connected to the warehouses in Otay Mesa, Missoula, Salt Lake City, Chicago, and Vancouver. A total of 18 suspects had been arrested on Thursday for prosecution in federal court in San Diego. Nick felt tired just thinking about the 18 defendants and their attorneys that he and Josh would be facing at the arraignment on the indictment the following Monday morning.

  The Canadians would prosecute the Vancouver suspects in their federal court in British Columbia.

  Abbie greeted Nick with a broad smile as he tried to sneak by her to get to his office. “Looks like someone had too much to drink last night. Hope it was worth it. I’ve some fresh coffee brewing for you. Do you want the bad news now Nick, or after your coffee?”

  “How about laying it on me when you bring the coffee? I may be hung over, but I’m still in a good mood. You have to see the photos of Luis that Jerry took. In one of them he’s face down in a pile of horse shit, and in another he has rolled over to face Jerry’s iPhone with a look of utter disgust, manure balls rolling off his clothes. In a third, he’s trying to brush himself off with an ivory hairbrush. Nothing you tell me could erase that.”

  To clear his head, Nick took a few shots with his nerf ball on his wastebasket hoop. After missing a few, he found his range. Feeling a little more like Steph Curry, he was ready for Abbie to bring it. Abbie came in with the steaming coffee and a pile of telephone messages.

  “Your phone has been ringing off the hook. Multiple calls from the AG’s press secretary, Ed Tellar, two calls from the head of the criminal division and lo and behold, one call from the esteemed one, the AG himself. The press secretary and the AG were heated. Your buddy, the head of the criminal division, was more relaxed. She knows you never carry a cellphone and can be out of contact for long periods of time. Nick you have to join the 21st century. The days of you deleting 500 emails, sight unseen when you’re in trial, or not being reachable on a cellphone, need to be over.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m getting better. I now check my emails almost once a day, and occasionally I carry my cellphone. Give me the gist of their conversations.”

  “You asked for it. ‘Who in the hell does he think he is! He takes down the three leading cartel members of the Familia at Opening Day in Del Mar, and doesn’t even bother to tell the AG, and the Chief of the Criminal Division what’s going on.’ They were less than pleased to hear about it first from news reporters asking about what happened.”

  “What are they griping about? They knew about the sealed indictments and that we were going to arrest them at some point. I told the U.S. Attorney about the planned track arrests. I’m prosecuting the case as a Special Assistant U.S. Attorney, not as a state AG. Give me a break.”

  “Nick. This is the modern media age. It’s all about spin and publicity. They want to be in the loop. They don’t want to look like they don’t even know what’s happening in their own office. They want to set up a press conference, with all the bells and whistles.”

  “Shit. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t tell them. I just want them to let me do my job with a minimum of distractions. The Chief of Criminal Division knows what it’s like to handle a high profile, complex case, but the AG certainly doesn’t and nor does he care unless he can get some favorable publicity out of it.”

  “Stop whining. I suggest you act nice and call AG Hamilton first. He’s at the top of the pecking order.”

  “You’re right Abbie. I may need you to translate into ‘making nice’ what I really think.”

  “I’ll get him on the line for you.” Abbie dialed, talked to a secretary and handed the phone to Nick. “He’ll be on the line in a few seconds.”

  “General, good to talk to you. I apologize for not letting you know before the arrests that they were going down. It was pretty crazy around here. We didn’t know for sure that we’d be able to arrest them at the track. I want to assure you…”

  “Stop your bullshit right now Drummond. You should be fired for insubordination. How dare you not tell me that the arrests were imminent on the biggest transnational drug cartel case our office has ever handled.”

  “I don’t know how well it would play in the press if you fire me, the head of the task force that was able to indict and arrest, on this side of the border, the t
hree top jefes of Baja Norte Familia. Might not look real good come your re-election.”

  “You insubordinate son-of-a-bitch.”

  “General, you’re repeating yourself. I’ll make sure I keep you and the press office informed in the future. I’ll even write up a sample press release this morning, extolling your virtues and contribution to our effort to thwart transnational criminal organizations. Lastly, I’ll arrange with the U.S. Attorney to have the press conference you want in San Diego after the defendants are arraigned on Monday. We’ll even bring out packages of black tar heroin and some of the automatic weapons seized. We can blow up photographs of the bundles of cash seized. And, we’ll even mention the joint operation with the Royal Canadian Mounties. The press is going to love it. You can do all the talking. I don’t like to talk to the press anyway. They just get in the way.”

  General Hamilton paused for a long moment. “Are you still on the phone General?”

  “You should be thankful I’m still here. Okay, send the draft press release to me and Tellar at the press office.” Nick heard Hamilton slam down the receiver.

  Nick turned to Abbie and grimaced. “What I say to that phony to keep my job and to keep him off my back. I’m disgusted with myself. I feel like I need a shower.”

  “Josh, have you got those cases on bail to cite to the Judge? We did pretty well on judicial roulette. Larry Orsini was a good draw. Been on the bench a long time, a good Catholic and family man. He’ll want to keep the major scumbags in jail.”

  “You’re right, he’s a good pick for us on the law and values. But he can be an ornery old cuss to the attorneys. Patience and judicial temperament aren’t his strong points.”

  “His bark is worse than his bite. You just need to bone up on the Detroit Lions. He’s a diehard Lions fan. He grew up in Detroit and went to Michigan law school in Ann Arbor.”

  They were in the presiding judge’s courtroom. It was the only courtroom that could hold 18 defendants and their attorneys. Nothing like full employment for defense attorneys. The “Big Six” defendants, being the three jefes and the three money launderers, had hired top flight attorneys. The other twelve had court appointed attorneys, one being a deputy public defender. A deputy public defender can be the best of all defense attorneys. Public defenders often get bad raps. Many are excellent attorneys and are well-experienced. Being around the courts a lot, the good public defenders, like the good prosecutors, know and cultivate the court staff. Having a court clerk, bailiff or court reporter sympathetic to you never hurts. Nick remembered a story he heard from a former prosecutor in Alameda County, a real gregarious, people loving guy. The deputy DA wanted a particular member of the jury to be the foreperson. He maneuvered the bailiff to bet a six pack of beer on the juror the DDA really wanted. When the jury got the case after the closing arguments, the bailiff brought the case file to the jury room and plopped it right in front of the juror the DDA wanted. The DDA had never been happier to pay off a bet.

  There was a loud anticipatory buzz in the courtroom. A pool television camera had been let in with a direct feed to the other stations. Two rows of the courtroom were roped off for the print media. A few family members were allowed seats as were other prosecutors and defense attorneys. It was the toughest ticket to get in town.

  Judge Orsini rapped his gavel resoundingly on the wooden “bench” in front of him. “Order! Pipe down! Anyone who talks out of line will be excluded from the courtroom. My clerk has set out name placards for each attorney and defendant. Attorneys find your places. The prosecutors and their investigating officer, Special Agent Cantana, will be sitting at the normal prosecution table. We’ll bring in the defendants and I’ll give you a few minutes to go over the indictment with them. My understanding is that the indictment has just been unsealed and you all have a copy.” He looked around for acknowledgement. He saw 18 heads nod in the affirmative in return. “Let the record show all defense attorneys have acknowledged receipt of the indictment.”

  Six bailiffs and 18 defendants filed in from a back door of the courtroom that opened up to a hall that led to the court holding tank. The defendants came in according to their pecking order in La Familia. The three jefes first, then the three money launderers, followed by the lower level 12. Nick thought, You can’t get away from priority treatment. Even Southwest Airlines, the people’s airline, allow you to board first if you pay a few extra bucks. And Qualcomm stadium was not good enough for the NFL and the Chargers because it didn’t have enough luxury boxes for the corporate elite. Enough, no more rumination about class and wealth.

  Several minutes passed as the attorneys and their clients conferred. The gavel shook the room one more time. “I’m going to read the indictment in full. By the way Mr. Drummond, you were quite wordy. Five pages would have done just fine. We didn’t need a treatise.”

  “I apologize Your Honor.”

  “Very well.” The judge read the indictment and then asked each defendant in turn if he understood the charges against him. Each said, “Yes.” The Judge then asked each attorney, “How does your client plead to the charges?”

  Each attorney responded, “Not guilty.” The judge then turned his glare to the prosecutor’s table. “Mr. Drummond or Mr. Sterling, please address the bail issue.”

  Nick stood. He had actually combed his hair that morning and had a brand new suit from Nordstrom’s Rack. He didn’t look all that bad.

  “Your Honor, we’re making recommendations on bail amounts on the basis of three levels of culpability and flight risk. “For Mateo Gomez-Encinas, the head of Baja Norte Familia, and his two chief lieutenants, Luis Hernandez-Lopez and Rael Trujillo-Sanchez, no bail. The Familia is a violent, transnational criminal organization. Its tentacles in this case alone have been shown to reach Canada, Chicago, Montana, and Salt Lake City. The cartel deals in death—black tar heroin. Heroin is responsible for dramatic increases in overdoses and deaths of our youth throughout the country, across all economic and racial lines. Not only have we seized hundreds of kilos of black tar heroin, along with thousands of pounds of marijuana, the cartel is laundering millions of dollars each month in complete mockery of our banking laws and legitimate commerce. In this case, these three have gone beyond drug smuggling and money laundering—they are also indicted for conspiracy to murder. Luis Hernandez-Lopez’ estranged girlfriend, and prospective material witness in this case, was sprayed with machine gun bullets in broad daylight on a residential street for daring to leave this man, and by extension, the cartel. She was saved from death by task force agents who, in turn, returned fire and shielded the estranged girlfriend from bullets. Agent Schwartz was hit twice and almost died from loss of blood. These three men are all Mexican nationals. Only Mr. Lopez has a residence here which he rarely uses, a condo in Coronado Cays. If any of the three were released, they’d be in Mexico the very same day. Never again to cross the border into the United States where we can arrest them.”

  “The next category are the three money launderers. They are all foreign nationals, but have had domiciles along the border in California for a number of years. All three have businesses on both sides of the border, which for over a year have been used to launder millions of dollars per month for the cartel. We are asking for two million dollars in bail for each of these defendants.”

  “Finally, the other 12 defendants were important cogs in the drug distribution and money collection operations over the past year. Nine were either transporting or storing drugs all over the country. For months, the defendants tied to the Missoula warehouse were smuggling drugs into Canada for cash dollars. The last three defendants are long-term, personal bodyguards for the three jefes of the cartel. Eleven out of the twelve defendants are foreign nationals. The exception is Jim Mitchell, a college student at the University of Montana, Missoula. As to these 12 defendants, we are recommending $500,000 apiece. They are all flight risks and are part of the same nefarious, far-reaching criminal organiz
ation. If I may approach the bench, this is a one page legal memorandum on the law as to bail prepared by AUSA Sterling. I’ve already given copies to defense counsel. It sets forth the uncontroverted law that supports our bail and no bail requests. I apologize for not being able to file it earlier.”

  “You may approach. I understand you’ve been rather busy the last few court days.” The judge read through it. “You’re right. It contains nothing I don’t already know. I’ll allow it to be filed.”

  The judge looked at each defense team for a moment. “I’ll call on each of you in turn, starting right to left, to make your bail arguments.” The attorneys for the three jefes argued that no bail was unprecedented in a case of this nature—no one died. Further, the prosecution couldn’t tie the shooting to the three of them. They asked for a reasonable, equitable ball of $200,000 apiece.

  Judge Orsini replied, “The murder conspiracy is thin, but the master affidavit appears to set forth sufficient facts to support the charge. I order that Encinas, Lopez and Sanchez be held with no bail because of the nature of the crimes, their roles as leaders of a transnational criminal organization, and the very real threat of flight risk if they were to make bail.”

  The other defendants made their arguments in turn. The judge split the baby as to them. One million apiece for the launderers and $250,000 apiece for the other twelve.

  Judge Orsini directed his attention to Drummond again. “When will you have discovery ready for the defendants?”

  “It’ll be bates stamped and scanned into digital form for transfer onto CDs for delivery to all defense counsel in thirty days. There are approximately 60,000 pages of documents.”

  “Very ambitious Mr. Drummond. You must have an excellent staff.”

  “We do Your Honor. The very best.”