by Jeff Nania
“Len, Sheriff, what are you boys up to today? Figuring out why we have dead bodies showing up all over the county, I suspect. Well, I have a pressing issue that I need Len’s help with, although, Sheriff, if you have something to offer, chime in.”
“How can we help you, Judge?” asked Len.
The judge walked over to a closet and removed a long case. He unzipped it and pulled out an old but well cared for Savage Model 99 lever-action rifle. “I was at the range the other day, and this gun refused to feed the shells from the magazine on two occasions. Could you take a look at it for me and get it straightened out? Deer season is just around the corner, and I hope it’s something minor.”
Len knew that the judge had inherited the rifle from his father and treasured it. The judge hand-loaded his own cartridges for it. The ammunition had to be just right for it to feed from the unique rotary magazine.
“Sure, Judge, I can look at it for you. Do you have some of your ammo?”
“I have a full box right here.”
“Now, Len, does Martha still have an extra place for an old bachelor at your Thanksgiving table this year?”
“Wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without you, Judge. I believe dinner will be at one.”
“I am looking forward to it. Martha can sure cook.”
“That she can,” Len agreed.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Sheriff?”
“Julie, Bud, and I are having dinner together along with some of Julie’s students.”
“Dining at the cafeteria, I trust?”
“Yes, Your Honor, the school cafeteria it is.”
“I will see you there. By the way, Sheriff, that Julie Carlson is a real sweetheart. I am happy for the both of you.”
“Thanks, Judge.”
There was a change in fashion that spread across Namekagon County. Blaze orange was the style of the day, with some blaze pink recently authorized by the legislature thrown in. Everyone was excited for the start of the nine-day deer gun season that would begin next Saturday. Six hundred thousand hunters would take to the field, each trying to get fresh venison for the freezer. This year would be challenging again. Deer numbers were down in northern Wisconsin, and predators were most often blamed. The white-tailed deer was prime forage for cougars, black bears, bobcats (mostly on fawns), coyotes, and wolves, and those species were thriving. In some counties, it was estimated that predators took many more deer than hunters did. This set the stage for the never-ending competition between man and animals.
The annual deer hunt was not just about harvesting wild game. It was about tradition and togetherness. Families and friends across the state gathered to join in the hunt. Some folks came just to set up deer camp, play cards, drink a little, and sit by the fire. Whatever a person’s reason, the white-tailed deer hunt was an integral part of the fabric of Wisconsin tradition.
The deer population in the state was much higher in the south or farmland zones than in the north, but many people flocked to the north country each year to hunt the big woods. Thousands of acres of public land gave hunters a chance to hike and hunt over the wildest of land.
The deer hunt was such an institution that the Musky Falls School District closed school for the week, primarily because only a handful of students would show up. Julie’s students were no different, so she made it part of her school curriculum rather than fight it. Students who participated in the hunt were given a notebook and asked to journal the experience. Those who were out of school, but did not hunt, were asked to journal about any family tradition they experienced. Some students, because of family situations, had little to share, but they were not excluded. Julie worked hard to get those kids to join her at the community Thanksgiving feast held at the high school cafeteria. She would be aided by me, Bud, Jack Wheeler, Ron Carver, Len and Martha Bork, and many others. It was a grand time, and a ton of food would be served. •
18
The next morning, I got a call from the fire marshal.
“Sheriff, we have finished most of our analysis, and we have determined that there were explosive charges set that led to the destruction of the trailer. The chemical residue that we uncovered indicates that the explosive was military-grade composition C-4. We have also found fragments of a couple of detonators and what appears to be pieces of a timing device. In a nutshell, someone planted three bombs and set them up with a timer. They went off at the same time. The bomber placed an accelerant, which may have included an adhesive agent, on top of or next to the explosive charges. This made certain that the trailer would burn and ignite the fumes inside. We found plenty of evidence that the trailer was a meth lab, including litter scattered around the outside of the trailer. Sheriff, you definitely have a double homicide.”
“Military C-4 was used?”
“Yes, it was. There is actually quite a bit of that stuff around. When soldiers came home from overseas conflicts, you’d be surprised how many of them slipped a block of C-4 in their duffle. Some of them were farm boys who figured C-4 would come in handy for blowing up tree stumps and cattle ponds. It first saw wide usage in Vietnam, but it’s still commonly used by the military today. It’s out there, and you can find plenty of websites that will tell you how to set it off without killing yourself. It is very stable stuff and requires a detonator that produces a shock wave. In this case, we are guessing it was an electronic detonator triggered by a timer. Someone with a bit of knowledge could put this together. As we kind of guessed from the start, the bomber used at least twice the amount of C-4 they needed. We found pieces of the trailer a long way from the site. The Army guy who came to assist from Fort McCoy said it looked like the bomber was really pissed off.”
“So far, we are thinking rival drug gangs. Maybe they wanted to send a message,” I suggested.
“Probably right, Sheriff. I am just telling you what I know. I will get my report put together and ship it off to you. Any problem with me filling in Malone?”
“Nope, none at all,” I said. The marshal disconnected.
I called Len and shared the report.
“We have got ourselves quite the situation here. I don’t know who these most recent dead guys are, and from what I understand from Dr. Chali, we won’t know for a while. Those people in the trailer were burned to a crisp. The ME is working on the ID with a forensic odontologist. Sounds like that’s about all that is left to identify,” I said.
“Have you heard anything from Ricardo?” Len asked.
“Not a word. But I don’t think he’s had time to get his people on the street yet. I hope he turns up something. Oh, I forgot to tell you, I got a call back from Douglas County. The plate on the Jeep that blew up with the trailer came back to a guy from Superior. Douglas County checked with him. He sold the Jeep on the Northland Classifieds a month ago to a buyer who paid cash and didn’t remove the plates. They have a description of the guy that they sent over, but the seller only talked to him for a few minutes, and the description is sketchy,” I said.
“I am headed off deer hunting this weekend. Martha would love me to bring home some fresh venison. I am hiking in off the road by Sande Landing, I’ll have my pager, but if you need me, it will be a while before I extract myself, just so you know.”
“Have a good time.”
“Communing with nature is always a good time for me, John. Besides that, I’ve been keeping track of a big buck on the next valley over from the landing. I saw him there this summer when I was fishing. He’s a real dandy, but I am guessing he’s a wise old boy. We’ll see who’s the smartest.”
I drove into the office, and there was a folder on my desk with a sticky note that read “Have a good deer season.” I checked the information in the folder. The name of the person I wanted to talk to was Andy Barlow. I dialed a Superior area cell phone number. The guy who answered sounded half asleep.
“Is this Andy?” I asked.
“Yup,” he responded.
“My name is John Cabrelli. I am the sheriff of Namekagon Co
unty. I was wondering if you might be available anytime today so I could ask you something about the Jeep you sold.”
He hesitated before answering. “I told the other officer everything I could think of. Any chance you could come tomorrow? I work the night shift, so I don’t go in until eleven. I just now went to sleep, so I am really tired.”
“I’m sorry, Andy, but it’s kind of important. I am actually headed your way now.”
“I guess if it’s important, I can stay up a while longer. Will it take long?”
“No more than a few minutes.”
“How long before you’re here?” Andy asked.
“Forty-five minutes tops,” I replied.
“Okay, that’s okay. I can finish a fish I’m working on. Do you have my address?”
“Got it, Andy, and thanks. I will be there shortly.”
I pulled into Andy’s driveway about five minutes early. He greeted me at the door and invited me in. The air smelled like paint fumes, and the reason why was soon evident. Andy had a small paint spray booth set up in one corner of the living room. Sitting in the middle of the booth was a taxidermy walleye that he was painting.
“Sheriff, just let me get this last coat on, and I’ll be done,” he said.
He flipped a switch on the wall that activated a blower fan attached to a piece of flexible duct that went to the window.
He had a small spray gun hooked to a compressor. He picked up the gun and gently turned the walleye while he applied a light coat of paint. He waited a few minutes and repeated the process. Then he examined his handiwork and applied a little more paint.
“That should do it,” he said.
“That fish looks great,” I commented.
“Thanks, Sheriff. I specialize in fish mounts. I hope to keep building the business so I can quit the factory and do it full-time. First, though, I have got to get myself a place to work that is not my living room. What can I do for you?”
“Andy, I need you to look at some pictures. See if one of these guys is the one who bought your Jeep.”
He looked through several pictures and didn’t recognize any of them until he saw the last picture.
“Sheriff, that’s the guy who bought the Jeep. He got a ride over here from someone else. That could be one of those other guys. I don’t know.”
I was shocked for a second, and Andy caught it.
“Did I say something wrong, Sheriff?”
“No, not at all. I just need you to look at this picture again. Are you sure it’s the same guy?”
“Ninety-nine percent sure. The guy had a dragon tattoo on his neck, and you can make it out a little there in your picture,” Andy said with confidence as he pointed.
“Thanks, Andy. You’ve been a big help.”
“You’re welcome. Glad to help you. The guy from Douglas County told me these guys were dopers, and I’ve got no time for that stuff. I hope you put them in prison.”
As soon as I was in my squad, I called Dr. Chali, and I got his voicemail. I left him a message to call me ASAP, and then I called his pager. Ten minutes later, my phone rang.
“Doc, I think I have an ID on one of the guys in the trailer—Jesse Gunther. The other guy may be Tony Carter, a known associate of his. I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but if it turns out it was Carter and Gunther in that trailer, we have got to rethink what’s going on here.”
“I’m headed back to the lab in Madison now. I’ll call them and have them get any information they have that might help with Gunther’s and Carter’s IDs. How solid is the person who made the ID?”
“He says ninety-nine percent.”
“Thanks, John. Good work. I’ll let you know when I know something.”
I needed to reach Ricardo. I called his secret cell, and he answered.
“Anthony, things are moving here, and I need some help to start sorting things out. First, I got a preliminary report from the fire marshal. It looks like three blocks of C-4 tied to some form of accelerant were detonated by a remote timer. They are going to send a report over to Malone and me. I will forward it to you. Next, it looks like the dead guys in the trailer might be Jesse Gunther and Tony Carter. I got an ID on Gunther from the guy who sold him the Jeep that burned up at the fire. I passed the information on to the ME, and he’s on it.”
“Geez, Sheriff, you have been doing some detecting. I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions yet, but if it turns out to be Gunther and Carter, we can safely figure that good old Namekagon County is smack dab in the middle of a drug war. The thing that gets my attention here is that someone used C-4 and a remote timer. That is not your average run-of-the-mill drive-by drug gang war. I have got to give this some serious cogitation, but at first glance, I think we better be paying attention.”
“I’ll send over the reports when I get them. Keep me advised on what you find, okay, Anthony?”
“Yeah, Sheriff, I will. I am actually trying to track down a possible associate of Devin Martin. I’m only getting warmed up, but I think it might be something. I’ll let you know when I do.”
After talking to Ricardo, I went back to the office. The preliminary report on the trailer bombing had come over. I read it and then forwarded it to Ricardo. It was not much different from what they had told me.
They had completed the survey of the scene, and they were still analyzing and examining the physical evidence. Their initial conclusion was that a party or parties unknown planted multiple explosive charges under the mobile home and detonated them at the same time. The mobile home was occupied at the time by two individuals, who likely died as a result of the explosion. However, they were waiting for the official cause of death from the ME.
I started finding what information I could regarding Devin Martin, Jesse Gunther, and Tony Carter. Their criminal lives were well documented, with notable rap sheets and overlapping time in the same joint. They were released within a few months to a year of each other. If it turned out that the bodies were Gunther and Carter, blowing up the meth lab was probably not retaliation for killing Martin. More likely, someone was trying to put Gunther’s outfit out of business, and they weren’t screwing around.
That night I ended up sleeping in the chair downstairs again, and once again, Julie woke me in the morning.
“John, I am beginning to think that you are avoiding sleeping with me. Do I snore too loudly or kick off the covers in the middle of the night? Does my reading light bother you?” she said with a smile.
“No, those things don’t bother me.”
My response caused a couch pillow to be thrown at me, which resulted in laughter from both of us.
The coffee she had made smelled wonderful. We each had a cup, and I again explained what was going on.
“I have got to get some solid information on these cases. They are clearly connected, and we should be able to get some leads from the dead guys’ former associates. We just don’t have anything right now. The fire marshal said C-4 plastic explosive was used in the bombing of the trailer. He told me that stuff is everywhere. I checked on other similar cases nationwide, and I found several where Molotov cocktails were used, a couple with dynamite, one even with det cord. I did find some bombings where C-4 was used. In each case, these were upper-level criminal gangs, organized crime types, fighting over big turf. Not street drug dealers. Nothing in this area of the country.”
“What does Bear have to say?”
“Not much. He deals with this kind of drug gang war all the time, so it is not very high on his priority list. He is doing anything we ask, but drug dealers killing each other is the normal state of things in his world. I know this area has had drug problems on and off, just like everywhere else. This is different. Len says drug dealers come into town, but usually, they leave after the local police put a little pressure on them. Things get a little too close for them. In this case, it seems they are trying to set up shop. We have got to do whatever we can to get rid of them. If they get established, they will be here forever.
“Well, I have always known that was going to be the case. You and I, in many ways, are cut from the same cloth. When I took over as the teacher at Northern Lakes, the school district sent every student to me who they were having trouble with. I was overwhelmed, but I welcomed them with open arms. I was their last chance. I worked night and day and still do because that is what it takes to help these kids. The reality of this is that if I don’t do it, who will?
“Most people in the world seem content to talk about the idea of change to death. They express outrage on whatever issue they are outraged about at the moment in sound bites. They have meetings to discuss the issues, and in the meetings, they propose solutions and spend endless hours wordsmithing the proposals. When they have finally finished, everything is wrapped up in a neat, evenly spaced document. They walk away, patting themselves on the back for a job well done. The meeting has become the work when the real work has yet to begin. Do you think that the county board chair will step up to the task? You are faced with the same problem—if you don’t do it, who will?
“As before, it will fall to you and Len and your small group willing to face the challenge. You will do whatever you need to do. The price we will pay is time together lost. The reward will be that just maybe we have saved one kid. I love you, John, and you love me, and together we are a great team. You do what you need to do, and I will keep the fire burning next to my mountain of schoolwork.” •