“May I see the photo?”
Charlie handed Amina copies of the two photos Judy had retrieved from Barrett’s social media. She looked carefully at the pictures, and her mother leaned over to see them.
Amina nodded. “Yes, he is one of the students who came often to our home.”
“He’s only a boy,” Jawaria said. “Not yet able to grow a beard.”
Charlie placed her report on the table in front of Jawaria. Amina stood, and Charlie began to extend her hand, but lowered it when she remembered it wasn’t the proper thing to do. Amina offered a handshake. “Thank you very much, Ms. Mack.”
# # #
“How was the family?” Judy asked.
“They were sad, but grateful. I met with Amina and her mother. I showed them Barrett’s picture. Amina recognized him from her father’s study group. Mrs. Pashia was surprised at how young he looked.”
“Yeah. He’s just a kid,” Judy said. “Don called. I told him you were still with the Pashias. He was in James’s office and they’re both coming over.”
“Fine.”
“You want me to get the invoice together to send to Amina?”
“Yes. She’s expecting it. But have Tamela do it. That’s not your job anymore,” Charlie said taking a seat in Judy’s side chair.
Judy had gotten to understand Charlie’s body language, and knew she was unsettled. “What’s the matter? We identified the people responsible for Mr. Pashia’s death. That’s what the family wanted.”
“I know. But it’s a matter of now I know too much,” Charlie said leaning back in the chair. “There’s an evil energy fueling these acts, and frankly it frightens me.”
“Do you still believe these are a cover-up for identity thefts?”
“Stealing personal information has something to do with it. I’m sure of that, but there’s something else going on that’s more sinister. Did you finish the FBI report?”
“Uh huh. It’s scary. The most startling part to me is how these groups operate in the open,” Judy said. “I guess I thought they would all be secret, you know? But they have websites and membership dues like they’re the Boy Scouts or something.”
Charlie nodded. “That’s what makes it so insidious. They parade around relying on their constitutional rights to organize, carry guns, and spew their hate speech.”
# # #
Don and James arrived with lunch—fish sandwiches and cole slaw from Scotty Simpson’s. Charlie dug out soft drinks from the mini-fridge, and Judy retrieved paper plates and napkins as Don and James passed around fries, fish sandwiches and tartar sauces. Tamela came in for her meal and returned to her desk.
“I’ve been told this is the way the Mack team rolls when a case gets intense,” James said.
“Yes. But our case just got closed,” Charlie said, opening a packet of ketchup. “I talked to Mrs. Pashia and her daughter this morning and told them we’d handed everything over to you.”
“Well, I want to discuss that, but let’s eat and talk.”
After a couple of bites of the deep-fried cod sandwich, Charlie spoke up. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked, wiping at runaway tartar sauce.
“We declined Wyatt’s request for a deal,” James said.
“As you should.”
“We think he’s blowing smoke up our butts about being an insider with the Turks, but the internet chatter confirms there’s a plan for another attack on a mosque or church. Something big. We also arrested Robbie Barrett early this morning. We raided his mother’s house. He lived in the attic behind a padlocked door. We took two desktop computers, a series of notebooks, two weapons, and a huge stash of videotapes.”
“Drugs?” Don asked.
“Nope. The kid doesn’t even smoke cigarettes, although we confiscated a drawerful of chewing gum with the kind of wrapper you found near the mosque.”
“Did he resist arrest?” Charlie asked.
“He was too scared for that. His mother was screaming and crying, and after we put Robbie in handcuffs, I thought he was going to bawl, too. His little brother was the tough guy. He told my agents where to go when they tried to ask him questions.”
“I feel sorry for Robbie,” Judy said.
“You would, Novak. The kid’s a damn menace to society. Already involved in one murder, and probably on the road to being a neo-Nazi,” Don said.
“What happens to him now?” Charlie asked.
“He’s being interrogated. My guys have been at it for six hours. We’ll see how much he knows about the leaders of this group. See if he’ll confess to the mosque bombing, and if he’ll roll over on Frank Wyatt. So far, all he’s confessed to is writing the threats to Mr. Pashia, but the lab techs have already confirmed the bike clip you found near the mosque belongs to him.”
“He’ll be charged with conspiracy, breaking and entering, and criminal harassment for the threatening notes, right?” Charlie asked.
“Second-degree murder, too. Possibly first-degree since Pashia’s death occurred as a result of arson.”
“That’ll be a stretch,” Charlie said, using her lawyer’s knowledge.
“Look, Charlie. I want you and Don and Judy to stay on this case. We want you on the task force.”
“We? I’m sure Commander Coleman didn’t vote for that.”
“She did, actually. She read your writeup on the evidence against Robbie. She was impressed with the Mack team’s work and analysis.”
Charlie wanted to roll her eyes as a dismissal of what Coleman said or thought. Instead, she squinted her skepticism.
“Coleman realizes she could have done a better job with the question about the leak,” James said. “Speaking of which, we have a plan to reveal the leaker.”
“Great,” Charlie said. “But I’m not sure about us joining the task force. We could just continue our informal relationship. What’s the benefit?”
“Nimbleness. We still have a lot of bureaucracy. It’s to be expected in an interagency operation. There will be tasks that a PI firm can do easier and faster. Plus, we’re working with communities that have an ingrained distrust of law enforcement, not to mention federal law enforcement.” James opened his folder and put a sheet on top. “I’m prepared to give you a persuasive argument about how important it is to sniff out these guys, and put metro residents at ease about our efforts to stop these attacks.”
“That’s not necessary. We know the importance of the work. We’ve all read your report now. It’s alarming to say the least.”
Charlie looked at her two partners. “Let’s see where we stand about joining the task force. Don? What’s your vote?”
“I vote yes if it’s not for more than a couple of weeks, because we ain’t getting paid.”
“I vote yes, too,” Judy said. “We can’t let these people infiltrate our communities and recruit our sons. They’re no better than these violent Islamic groups—like Al Qaeda.”
“That’s three yesses, James,” Charlie said. “So I guess you have us for the next two weeks.”
“Well, that’s great. Fine,” James said, smiling. “Thank you.”
“We’ll want to sit in on all the major meetings,” Don said. “And have access to the case files.”
“Of course.”
“We have other cases,” Charlie said. “There may be times when all three of us can’t be at every meeting, but I want Judy to get as much exposure to strategy sessions as possible. She’s already very good at technology, but I’d also want her to have a chance to see what your lab guys do.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“What’s next?” Charlie asked.
“The leak. We’ve already seen internet discussion about Wyatt’s arrest, which further a firms an inside leak. Commander Coleman and I have been authorized to monitor the email of every single member of the task force, and we’re going to push some disinformation into our next meeting to see where it leads.”
“Maybe you should wait to announce that we’re comi
ng onto the task force until after you determine the leak,” Charlie said. “In fact, why not announce that we’re officially off the Pashia case? Instead of disinformation, give them a small piece of truth.”
“Not a bad idea,” Don agreed.
“Okay, we’ll go with that right away. Charlie, I was wondering if you would sit in on the interrogation with Barrett. The guys downtown have texted that they’re getting nowhere. I thought a woman might bring a different response from him.”
“From the posts I’ve seen on his Facebook page, I don’t think a Black woman asking him questions is going to loosen his lips. What about Judy? She’s got kids almost his age, and she already feels some empathy toward him.”
James looked skeptical. “No offense, Judy, but I think this requires someone with a lot more experience . . .”
Charlie interrupted. “I’ve seen Judy get people to open up over the phone. In person, she’s hard to resist. Look at her. She looks like somebody’s mom—trusting, kind, someone ready to bring you warm milk.”
“Uh, thank you, I think,” Judy said.
“Those were definitely compliments,” Charlie said. “We all bring different perspectives and personal skill sets to this work. That’s what makes us strong.”
“Are you up for it, Judy?” James asked.
“I’m up for it.”
# # #
Robbie had been in police custody for fifteen hours. He was exhausted, hungry, scared as hell, and his legs were cramping. He’d refused any food or drink and was determined to fight back against what he believed to be government oppression. Officers had been moving in and out of the interrogation room every hour or two, so he barely moved when he heard the door open again.
“FBI agent James Saleh and investigator Judy Novak initiating interrogation of Robert Christopher Barrett at fourteen hundred hours on May 19, 2009.”
Robbie lifted his head from his outstretched arm. He smelled warm cocoa and the faint scent of Judy’s citrusy cologne. He opened his eyes to look at the woman in front of him and the dark-skinned FBI agent.
“I brought you some hot chocolate,” Judy said, pushing a cup toward him. “I bought myself a cup, too.”
Robbie squinted at Judy. He looked at her small gold earrings, the light blue blouse under her black jacket, and her short hair. She wore a light pinkish lipstick. His brother’s social worker wore lipstick like that. He stared at the cup of chocolate, desperately wanting it although he didn’t want to give the Feds an edge on him. Robbie turned his attention to James. How could he be an FBI agent? This guy looks like one of those towel heads.
Judy sipped her hot chocolate slowly. She picked up her napkin and dabbed at the thin line of brown foam on her lip. She knew Robbie was watching. They all sat quietly for a few minutes, with James writing notes on his legal pad and Judy savoring the cocoa. After Robbie picked up the hot chocolate, James waited another thirty seconds to begin the interrogation.
“Barrett, we know you’re not responsible for the explosion at the mosque on February 12th when Mr. Hassan Pashia was killed.”
James and Judy both noticed Robbie’s shoulders relax a bit. He took another sip of hot chocolate, then resumed his defiant stare.
“But we can also prove you were in and around the mosque on more than one occasion. Robbie, do you own a Riverside Decathlon bike?”
“What about it?” His voice was surly.
“We have security film of you on your bike at the mosque the night of the bombing.”
“I didn’t bomb anything.”
“We know,” Judy said.
He turned again to Judy. She noticed his soft hands with long fingers. A start of peach fuzz had gathered at his chin, but was absent from his lip or jawline. His stringy hair hung in clumps around his ears. What a babyface with those close-set, intelligent eyes. She could tell he was curious about her. She would use his curiosity to get him to drop his defiance.
“My son has a touring bike,” Judy said nonchalantly. “He takes it on road trips where he camps overnight. I think he saved for over a year to buy that bike.”
“I couldn’t afford one until I got my new job,” Robbie said, looking down at the table.
“Robbie, did you know Frank Wyatt said you planted the bomb at the mosque?” Judy asked.
“Frank’s a fucking alcoholic liar.”
Judy winced at the profanity. Robbie saw it and dipped his head, but his anger spewed again.
“Sorry, but he’s an asshole. He armed that bomb, and he didn’t know shit about what he was doing.”
“You had nothing to do with buying components or building the bomb?” James asked.
Robbie glared at James. “I’m not talking to you, mongrel. The FBI must be getting desperate if they hired someone like you.”
James smiled. “You don’t have to talk to me. I can send the white guys back in here, but believe me, they really want to nail your ass for this bombing. They believe Wyatt, and want to put you in a prison cell for the rest of your life.”
Robbie pushed back in his chair, folded his arms, and glared at James and Judy. He wasn’t sure if he should scream, curse, or cry so he bit down on his lip and looked away.
“I don’t think you killed anyone, Robbie,” Judy said. “I think you’re mad about not knowing what your future looks like. My kids are going through the same things. College is expensive, and jobs are hard to find. They want to get their own places but can’t afford it. Navigating work and life and relationships is really confusing.”
Robbie peeked up at Judy, then dropped his head again. Judy signaled to James that they should wait. They did. Almost three minutes in silence. Judy finished her hot chocolate. James made notes and checked his phone.
“Are you done with me?” Robbie finally asked.
James looked at him and smiled. “Oh, we’ve only just begun. If it were up to the FBI, you’d be on your way to Gitmo. This lady here thinks we need to give you a second chance.”
Robbie shifted his glance between the two, finally landing on Judy. “What kind of investigator are you? Like for social services? Child Protective Services?”
“No. I’m with a private investigation firm. I’m here because I want to try to understand why you’re involved with Stormfront, and the White Turks.” Robbie’s eyes grew wide at the mention of the names.
“Yes, we know about those groups,” James explained. “We’ve confiscated your computers. We know all about you, and your communications with these groups.”
“Fascists.” Robbie spit out the word.
“No. Just smarter than these homegrown terrorist guys. What they’re doing is not the way to show dissatisfaction with the government. That’s not how you make things better,” James said.
“America would be a whole lot better without people like you,” Robbie snarled.
“Help me to understand, Robbie,” Judy said. “What makes these people and their philosophy so appealing to you? What has made you go this far?”
# # #
Judy and James arrived back at the Mack agency after more than four hours of questioning Robbie. He had, finally, admitted to his role in the mosque attack.
“It’s what we expected. He’s new to the White Turks, and the mosque attack was his initiation. He did the spray-painting, but Frank Wyatt placed the bomb. He says he’s also being seriously courted by other groups.”
Charlie and Don waited for more information.
“Judy was magnificent,” James said. “We’d worked out a couple of techniques like just sitting quietly, and me being the bad cop, but the rest was Judy’s improvisation. She insisted we stop for hot chocolate, for instance. The boy started to loosen up the moment he smelled the cocoa.”
“It always worked when I had tough talks with my boys,” Judy said, smiling.
“I told you,” Charlie said to James. “Did he agree to help in the investigation?”
“I think he will. It took some talking to convince him that these groups he’s so fond of a
re hell-bent on starting a global race war that could cause the deaths of thousands of innocent people.”
“That can’t be news to him,” Don said. “He must know that based on the stuff he’s posted on social media.”
“He knows. He’s even said worse in his personal correspondence. We’re still going through his videos, notebooks, and computer files. He’s had hundreds of interactions with these groups, but there’s a difference in talking about removing people, and finally realizing that means murdering people. Judy sensed right away he’s not so far gone that he’s lost his humanity.”
“I told him about something I read in the FBI report,” Judy said, “that one of these fringe groups in Europe had planned an attack that killed more than a hundred students. I reminded him that’s probably more students than were in his high school graduating class. That seemed to get to him.”
“You also reminded him of the many kindnesses Hassan Pashia had shown him. Robbie was only focused on the grades he received, not the fact that Pashia had spent dozens of hours with him one-on-one and in the study group.”
“He tried not to let on, but he’s really shook up about Pashia’s death,” Judy said.
“The long and the short of it is, after a good meal, he’ll be tucked away for the night under special security, and we’ll talk to him again in the morning,” James said. “He did ask for an attorney before we left, and we’ve asked the district court to appoint one for him.”
“How has Commander Coleman reacted to us coming onto the task force?” Charlie asked.
“Honestly? She has mixed feelings. She knows our investigation has been stuck for weeks and it’s only been since your involvement that we’ve had a breakthrough. At the same time, professional pride keeps her from wholeheartedly endorsing the need for help.”
“Like every cop I’ve ever known,” Charlie said, and then pointed to Don. “Including that one.”
“It doesn’t help that we’ve now discovered the leak came from DPD,” James said.
“You don’t say,” Charlie said gleefully.
“It was one of Coleman’s officers. Someone who helps with her correspondence and schedule, and has access to the Commander’s email. As soon as we’d announced that you guys were now backing off the Pashia case, this woman emailed someone with that information.”
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