Bully

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Bully Page 1

by Gonzalez, J. F.




  Table of Contents

  Bully

  About J. F. Gonzalez

  Also by J. F. Gonzalez

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  BULLY

  One

  KAREN WASN’T GOING to budge. No matter how much he pleaded, no matter how much he tried to reason with her, she wasn’t going to budge on the issue of letting him see Christopher and Tina this weekend. She was just going to be a bitch about it.

  Danny Hernandez was sitting at the kitchen table of his apartment, head in his hands, trying to quell the beginnings of a headache. He’d arranged to have the weekend off ten days ago, and at the last minute she pulls her martyr trip on him. He might as well buy her a fucking cross and some nails next Mother’s Day. She knew how much of a hassle it was for him to get a solid weekend off from work at the local WalMart, where he worked in the shipping and receiving area. But no—she didn’t give a shit. She continually used his job as something to torture him with. It was her way of saying that if he wasn’t such a fuck-up he wouldn’t have to work for those slave drivers.

  Danny closed his eyes, his head pounding. He tried not to think about his ex-wife or the fact that he wasn’t seeing his children this weekend and probably wouldn’t for another month. He tried to concentrate on other things, something that would bring a more positive outlook.

  Well, he had the entire weekend to himself now.

  He could do whatever he wanted.

  The bills were paid, he’d just gotten his paycheck a few days ago and he had money left over. He’d been planning on taking the kids somewhere—the Redondo Beach pier maybe, for a ride on the merry-go-round; movies at Blockbuster, dinner at Chuck-E-Cheese. They were going to have fun; that was the important part. And while not being able to do this now was a source of great discomfort to Danny, he tried to convince himself that he would make the most of the weekend regardless of Karen and her petty power games.

  Danny Hernandez was thirty-nine years old and stocky, with dark that was heavily gray around the temples. He favored jeans and polo shirts most days, sometimes t-shirts with some kind of design or slogan on them. He’d been employed with Wal Mart now for ten years, first as a cashier in the electronics department, later moving to the store warehouse as a stockroom clerk. Now he was a senior Shipping and Receiving specialist, which was really a fancy way of saying that he sat in a little office all day and scheduled deliveries from the various distributors and supervised a small crew of half a dozen employees. It paid for shit, but it was a livable wage, unlike what the majority of his co-workers made, and the hours were horrendous—fifty was the norm, but he often worked up to sixty, sometimes seventy hours a week, and he hadn’t had a weekend off in almost two years. When he took vacations it was a day here, a day there. No wonder Karen left him and filed for divorce last year. He’d never been around.

  Danny’s head felt better and he got up and went to the refrigerator for a beer. He had six bottles of Corona left and he pulled one out and opened it, drinking deep. It went down nice and smooth and Danny sighed.

  Of course there was the problem with his drinking, if you could call it that. Danny usually put away a case a week. Karen bitched about it to him the last year or so of their marriage, but she wasn’t a saint either. She drank, smoked, and did the occasional toot. They shielded that stuff from the kids of course, but she had to get on his shit for it. And when he’d tried to throw it back in her face, she’d gotten up and left, taking the kids with her.

  Now she claimed she didn’t drink or do drugs any more, and that leaving Danny was the catalyst in helping her quit, as if suggesting he was the one that drove her to it in the first place.

  Danny hadn’t fought the divorce. He’d granted it, and was lucky she hadn’t dove in and claimed half of the piggy bank WalMart called a pension plan. Karen had a pretty cushy job as a secretary for an insurance company, and with her salary, 401k, and other benefits, she had money falling out of her asshole. Of course, she hadn’t been able to get better housing than Danny since the divorce—they’d been living near Danny’s old neighborhood in Gardena, in a little bungalow off Western Avenue, and now he lived in a small apartment complex off Van Ness Avenue. Karen had moved to Carson, about ten miles south, and he usually saw the kids every other Friday.

  He hadn’t had a full weekend with them since the divorce.

  Danny moved into the living room, sat down on the worn green sofa, plopped his stocking feet on the coffee table and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels—ESPN, Home Shopping, Discovery, VH1. Not much was on. He sipped his beer, pausing at Cartoon Network, and watched Sponge Bob for a moment. He supposed as long as he had all this free time he might as well do something. Maybe after his beer he would head over to Big Al’s, a little bar he liked to hang out at and shoot pool sometimes. Or maybe he’d just play it casual tonight—go to Blockbuster and rent some flicks, come home and call out for a pizza and do a guy’s night out thing. Hell, if he was going to do that, fuck Blockbuster; you couldn’t rent porn there. Might as well go to Ngyuen’s Video on Western and find something X-rated—something with Jenna Jameson maybe, or Blake Mitchell or Ashley Juggs. Danny grinned as he drank his beer. Ashley Juggs ... what a name for a porn star. They all called themselves funny names now—Wendy Whoppers, Lisa Lipps, Busty Brittany. Shit, why not call yourself Fuck Queen Fiona or Blow Job Barbara and be done with it?

  The ringing of the doorbell snapped him out of his reverie and Danny started, set his beer down on the coffee table and got up. He peered through the peephole in the door and didn’t recognize the stocky blonde man dressed in a dark brown sport jacket, white shirt and tie, standing outside, so he opened the door partway. “Yeah?”

  The man turned to him. “Danny Hernandez?” He reminded Danny of the actor Brian Dennehy.

  “That’s me.”

  The man pulled something out of his wallet and flipped it open. It was a badge and an ID. “I’m Tom Jensen, Gardena PD Homicide. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  Danny felt nervous; he tried to keep his knees from wobbling and he felt his mouth go dry. “Yeah, sure,” he said automatically as he opened the door and stepped aside. Detective Jensen stepped inside and Danny closed the door, his stomach like lead in his belly.

  There was no reason for him to be nervous - the last time he was arrested was twelve years ago when he was caught with less than an once of pot. That had fucked up his probation and he’d done thirty days because of it. But he’d been clean ever since—well, with the occasional toke of a joint or a toot of coke, but that didn’t count. Danny followed Detective Jensen into the apartment.

  “What’s this about?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  “Just want to ask you a few questions,” Detective Jensen said, taking out a scratch pad and pen.

  “Something happen?” The complex he lived in was pretty quiet, but he knew that there were some kids that lived in the neighborhood adjoining it that were pretty rowdy. They were always hanging around the corner on their skateboards, yelling at passing motorists and flipping them the bird.

  Detective Jensen offered Danny a tentative smile. “Something always has to happen for the cops to show up, Mr. Hernandez. Why else would I be here?”

  Danny laughed but he still felt nervous. He tried to be casual, tried not to let it show he was feeling guilty even though he hadn’t done anything. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Detective Jensen shook his head. “No, don’t need any of that. I won’t take up too much of your time, really. I just have a few questions to ask as part of an investigation I’m involved with.”

  “Oh?” Danny wondered if the investigation had to do with one of the fuckheads he used to hang out with back in the eighties when he’d been using heavily. �
�Well, sure. What can I do for you?”

  “You remember a kid named Raul Valesquez?”

  At the mention of that name Danny felt the blood drain from his face. He licked his lips, hoping his nervousness wasn’t that evident, then swallowed. He nodded. “Well, um, yeah ... I mean ... shit, that was a long time ago and the guy that killed him is serving time, isn’t he?”

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  Detective Jenson shrugged. “Well, hell, it’s been on the news. Of course, you could’ve missed it easily since it was only mentioned once in passing, but the Gardena Valley News made a big mention of it a few weeks ago in their evening edition.” The detective paused, regarding Danny. “You remember the guy’s name? The one who was caught and convicted of Raul’s murder?”

  Danny nodded. How could he forget? It had been the talk of Peary Jr. High for months back in 1977 and 1978 when he was in eighth grade. He felt a lump in his throat and swallowed it. “Yeah. Doug Archer.”

  The detective nodded. “That’s right. Doug served twenty-six years in Chino Prison. Three years ago a team of college students at UCLA started a project similar to the one at Northwestern University in Illinois. You might remember that. A journalism professor named David Protess made headlines when his students helped exonerate dozens of death row inmates in the late nineties in the state of Illinois. The students' findings, later reviewed by a special Governor’s Commission on Capital Punishment, showed a huge majority of the men that were convicted had been ... well, it seems like they were—how shall I put it?—railroaded by the system.”

  Danny listened, arms crossed in front of him as Detective Jensen continued. “The cases were sent to the governor on a case-by-case basis, and there were so many that a special independent commission was formed to investigate the claims. One of the most notable cases involved Rolando Cruz and Alex Hernandez. They were wrongly convicted for killing a little girl, even as a child molester named Brian Dugan confessed to the crime. The Prosecutors in the case were over-zealous in their pursuit to get a death penalty conviction, and would not accept Dugan’s offer of a guilty plea in exchange for life in prison. A courageous judge acquitted Cruz and Hernandez thanks to Protess’s work, and DNA testing was conducted which clearly show Dugan was the killer, yet he remains uncharged in the crime. There are more incidents, most of them very similar. They found massive corruption in the system; a lot of these guys had been flat-out framed for crimes they did not do. DNA helped exonerate a lot of them. It was obvious to the governor of Illinois, a conservative Republican named George Ryan, that a lot of guys were clearly convicted for crimes they didn’t commit. He later called for a state-wide moratorium on the death penalty in his state. It was quite a big scandal.”

  “You saying Doug Archer was released?” Danny Hernandez said, already knowing the answer and feeling a shiver as Detective Jenson nodded.

  “Yeah,” Detective Jenson said. “He was released three weeks ago. The kids who reviewed his case got a lawyer, a good one, who petitioned the State Supreme court for a review of the evidence. Seems like there was a ton of evidence in his original case that was suppressed by the prosecution. These kids did their homework; they documented every bit of physical evidence, revisited witness statements, went through the whole case with a fine-toothed comb.” Detective Jenson was watching Danny. “They found it highly unlikely that Doug Archer could have been the man responsible for Raul’s murder and his new lawyer argued this in front of the California State Supreme Court. The state countered, of course, but they couldn’t produce anything to convince the justices. They made their decision three weeks ago and his original conviction was overturned. Doug was released July 12, just after two p.m. He had dinner with his sister that night, and he retained the lawyer his sister hired for him—guy by the name of William Grecko. They’re on a mission to clear Doug’s name of the murder officially. You see, in the twenty years or so since Doug’s imprisonment, his younger sister, Jessie, has carved quite a niche for herself in the corporate world. She’s one of the highest paid female CEO’s in the country. Works for the Solomon Brothers and pulls in a very cushy income from what I understand.” He paused. “She’s funding her brother’s defense.”

  Danny sat down on the sofa; he didn’t want Detective Jenson to see how nervous he was. “So what’s the deal? Are they still trying to get him for the murder?”

  “What do you think?” Detective Jenson offered Danny a smug grin. “Why else would I be here? The case is officially reopened. And the Los Angeles County District Attorney is starting everything over from scratch.”

  Danny sighed. His headache was coming back. God, he needed a drink, and he needed it bad.

  “Surprised?”

  “Yeah.” Danny reached for his beer and drained almost half the bottle. “It’s a shock all right. I mean ... I remember when this happened when I was a kid ... we thought it was all open and shut, you know?”

  “I know.” Detective Jenson nodded. “I can only imagine.”

  Danny looked up at the detective. “What do you need from me? I mean...shit, I don’t think anybody asked me anything when this happened. I barely knew Raul and I didn’t even know Doug Archer. Never even heard his name until all this started.”

  Detective Jenson appeared to seriously consider the question. “I’m doing what you might call research of the victim’s background. We already got another team talking to witnesses and key players in the original case. We got another team working with the Valesquez family—”

  Danny raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? They’re still around?”

  Detective Jenson nodded. “Well Eva’s dead, you know.” Eva was Raul’s mother. “Rudy is doing ten to twenty in Chino for Armed Robbery, and the older brother, Robert, is living on the East Coast, somewhere near Philly. He’s retired from the Navy.”

  “Really?” All those names, all those memories, were flooding back.

  “So my partner and I are trying to hunt up as many of the kids that used to play with Raul as best we can. Try to find out as much as we can about him and what his daily activities were like then, who his friends were, who else he may have hung around with.”

  “Kids that used to play with Raul? Are you serious?”

  “Excuse me,” Detective Jenson said, chuckling slightly. “I keep forgetting Raul was only eleven, but then I have to check the case file to remind me he had a juvenile record longer than Tupac Shakur. Sorry.”

  “I never hung out with Raul,” Danny said. “I just want to make that clear right now.”

  “Turns out a lot of kids didn’t,” Detective Jenson said. “At least the ones we were able to locate who are still in the area. Your name was on another case file though, one involving the accidental death of a kid named Bobby Whitsett. You remember that?”

  At the mention of Bobby’s name Danny felt as if the wind had been taken out of his sails. An image of Bobby’s frail figure lying at the bottom of the concrete ravine off Crenshaw Boulevard, the spreading pool of blood under his cracked head....

  Danny nodded, shaking. “Yeah, I remember that.”

  Detective Jenson looked at Danny and plunged on. “Well, the reason I’m here is because Raul’s name is mentioned in your witness statement. Another kid named him as well...kid by the name of Jerry Valdez. You know what I’m talking about?”

  Danny nodded. He was scared, but he was also building up the resolve in himself, something he’d been doing for the past twenty-six years. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bobby’s death was written off as an accident,” Detective Jensen continued. “A skateboarding accident, to be exact. It seems the ravine off Crenshaw was a popular place for kids to ride their skateboards in. Is that true?”

  “It was at the time, yeah.”

  “And Raul was with the three of you when this happened?”

  Danny nodded. He looked up at Detective Jensen. “Yeah.”

  “Skateboarding?”
<
br />   “Skateboarding.”

  “You just told me a minute ago you never hung out with him.”

  “That was the only time.”

  “The only time you ever hung out with him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you never hung out with Raul Valesquez any other time?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  Danny shrugged. “To tell you the truth, he was....” A little scary? A fucking psycho? “...he wasn’t a very nice kid to hang out with.”

  Detective Jensen jotted something down, then regarded Danny with that cop gaze. “So why the one time then?”

  “He just showed up.”

  “He just showed up at the ravine? Just like that? And you guys decided to ride skateboards with him that one day and you never did it again?”

  “Yep.”

  “I find that kinda hard to believe. No offense, but if the kid was a troublemaker why did you hang out with him the one day?”

  Danny sighed, wiped his face with his hand. “I guess you could say we were intimidated. He was... Raul just sort of showed up that day at the ravine. None of us were expecting it, and rather than make him mad by telling him we didn’t want to skate with him we just...” Danny shrugged.

  “You decided to ride it out?”

  Danny nodded.

  “And this Bobby kid...according to the original statement, he slipped at the top of a forty foot embankment and fell down headfirst, right?”

  Danny nodded. “Yeah. We were riding back to Crenshaw. Bobby was ... farting around. Doing three-sixties and stuff and...he spun himself a little too fast...the board he was riding wasn’t really built for freestyle anyway, and it shot out from under him and the...the force of his fall made him stagger and he just fell right over the edge.”

  “How was Raul that day? I mean, before that happened?”

  “He was fine.”

  “Didn’t give you any trouble?”

  “No, not really.”

  “What do you mean, not really?”

 

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