Bully

by Gonzalez, J. F.

  Start a new life. Start fresh. Be a husband to Chrissy and a father to Olivia. Be there for them.

  Nothing was going to stop that from happening.

  Nothing.

  Feeling better, more in control, Jerry Valdez took a deep breath, then set off to begin the process of leaving the country.

  TOM JENSEN AND Franklin Navarro were seated in the front row of the conference room at headquarters during the taskforce meeting when Getz dropped the hammer. “As of today, this task force is now disbanded.”

  Tom knew it was going to happen. He had filed into the conference room with Franklin and the rest of the task force with a feeling of dread. Getz had been absolutely pissed to high heaven last night when they’d stopped by his house, and no amount of explaining that the reason they’d missed the meeting was because they were tied up following leads in the case would excuse them from his wrath. Getz told them they should have done everything they could to get to the emergency task force meeting come hell or high water. Tom hadn’t wanted to get into it with him, and he could tell Franklin was playing it safe as well. They’d apologized, told Getz they had been following up on some interesting leads in the case and hadn’t been paying attention to their cell phones; sorry boss, it won’t happen again. That’s when Getz informed them to hold off on the investigation until the following morning after the meeting, which had been quickly assembled. They promised they would, and Tom quietly told Franklin as they walked back to their cars that he wouldn’t be surprised if Getz announced the cancellation of the investigation in the meeting.

  Getz avoided looking at him as they filed into the conference room, and he knew the Chief was doing everything he could to avoid him. They sat in the front row as Getz called the meeting to order, then ran down a quasi-official announcement on Douglas Archer’s sudden death yesterday, which everybody seemed to know about. Tom listened, glancing around the room cautiously. Manning was present, seated with a group of older men in suits, some who looked like they were from city hall. A representative from the LA County coroner was present, seated in the front row, along with the assistant to the current Mayor. As Getz droned on, it became clear to Tom that the suspicions he'd raised to Franklin last night were true—Getz was leading up to announce the cancellation of the case. He raised his hand as Getz rattled on, showering praise to the task force for doing such a fine job. “I’d like to congratulate all of you for the great work you did. There was a lot of ground to cover and you rose to the occasion admirably. Unfortunately, it seems that Doug Archer solved the case when he killed himself and left a note of admission. Therefore, it is with the recommendation of the mayor and Mr. Manning and Nichols, who have been assisting us as consultants, that we close the murder case of Raul Valesquez and—"

  Since Getz was ignoring him, Tom decided now was the best time to spoil his bullshit speech. “Excuse me, Getz. I’d like to raise an objection to this!”

  Getz stopped and eyed Tom with disdain. Tom ignored the look, which said, What did I tell you last night? Didn’t I tell you that it’s out of my hands?

  Thing was, it wasn’t out of Getz’s hands. Last night, when he and Franklin stopped by the house, Getz had been angry with them for failing to show up to the emergency task force meeting. He’d also been angry at the report that they were seen at the apartment complex where Doug Archer lived. “You knew damn well we had a meeting and you ignored my orders and instead went over to a crime scene that wasn’t in your jurisdiction!” That was the best argument he could come up with. Franklin had called bullshit on it and Tom had backed him up. Getz’s features had become furious as they argued—he knew Tom and Franklin were right, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The decision had been made and he was following orders. Tom felt more disgust with him at that moment than he ever had in his life. To think that Getz could be forced to toe the line to the old brass of the department and the higher-ups in city government when he knew goddamned well that something with the pungent scent of horseshit was brewing...that just drained all the respect Tom had for him right then and there.

  “As I was saying,” Getz began, his angry gaze locked with Tom’s.

  “Has Doug’s body been autopsied?” Tom asked.

  “I second that question,” Franklin said, raising his hand. “Despite the fact that he left a suicide note, he was still a suspect in a murder case. I think a full investigation is—"

  Manning leaned forward now, his voice strong and commanding. “A full investigation isn’t necessary at this point, gentlemen. The man left a note. His prints were on the gun. The suicide note is the main supporting evidence. What more do you need?”

  Tom turned to Manning, ignoring the retired police Chief’s cold gaze. “If you’re so positive it was suicide, what’s the harm in ordering an autopsy?”

  “Because it’s a waste of resources and money,” Manning said. “From the minute this case was re-opened, the focus has been to reinvestigate with the purpose of strengthening the murder case against Archer. That’s the prosecution’s job.”

  “The prosecution’s job is to present a case before a judge and jury that he or she knows they can win,” Tom Jensen said. “Our job is to investigate a crime, gather the evidence, and paint a likely scenario that the prosecution can then study to determine whether or not they have a case. They didn’t have a case in 1978; they weren’t going to have a case against Douglas Archer in 2005.”

  “What makes you think that, smart boy?” Manning said. He reminded Tom of a shark. His grin was cold, predatory.

  “Because we happened to be doing our job up until Mr. Archer met his untimely demise, and we were able to talk to a few witnesses that led to some very tangible leads.” Tom glanced between Manning and Getz, then back to Manning again to see if he would budge. He didn’t. The room went quiet, all eyes focusing on Tom and Getz. Getz’s face was beet red with anger and embarrassment. “And what we were learning was that it was looking less likely that Douglas Archer was the murderer of Raul Valesquez.”

  “Is that so? Who do you think killed him then?”

  “I don’t know. But—"

  “Then you got nowhere.”

  “You didn’t let me finish.” Tom said. All eyes in the room were on him and Franklin now. The room grew silent. Detective Little, the head of the task force, and Chief Getz were watching him with anger. Manning hadn’t lost that predatory grin and the suits who were seated next to him looked like those old crones you see in mafia movies; old money, old power, don’t fuck with us. They regarded Tom with bland, cold glares. “If you’ll give me a moment to lay everything out, you’ll see why I think Douglas Archer may not have been Raul Valesquez’s killer.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you think,” Manning said.

  “Why are you even here?” Franklin asked, his tone condescending and sarcastic. “I mean, really! Little? Getz? Why are you listening to what a civilian has to say about this?”

  “Navarro!” Getz roared.

  The outburst didn’t phase Franklin. “What’s the matter? Mad because I pointed out to the rest of the task-force that you’re bowing to the whims of a civilian?” He turned to Manning, his features just as bland as the cronies sitting with the ex-Police Chief. “You heard me right. I called you a civilian, because as of the day you retired from law enforcement, that’s what you are. A civilian. What the fuck are you doing calling the shots in a murder investigation?”

  “Navarro, I will not have you disrespecting a decorated law enforcement officer!” Getz shouted. The muscles in his neck were corded, the veins and tendons bulging.

  “Why are you taking orders from him, then?” Tom asked.

  “I’m not taking orders from anyone!” Getz roared at them. “If anyone should be taking orders it should be you! And I’m ordering you to shut the fuck up!”

  “I’ll shut up if you hear me out,” Tom said, not backing down from Getz’s angry outburst.

  “I’m ordering you to get out!” Getz yelled.

>   Little spoke up. “Getz, let me handle this.”

  “You get out!” Getz stepped toward Navarro and Jensen in a threatening manner.

  Little scrambled to intercept Getz and was joined by several other task-force members, who moved him away from Tom and Franklin. Getz glared at them, his eyes blazing with such an intense anger that Tom thought he was going to explode. “I’ll see the three of you in my office in an hour! Not a minute later, do you hear me?”

  The murmur of conversation among the rest of the task-force members rose as they watched in concern. Tom noticed Manning watch Getz being led out of the meeting, the ex-police chief’s eyes never leaving the current Police Chief’s retreating figure. At one point Tom could have sworn that just as Getz was leaving the room their eyes met briefly and some silent communication, however quick, passed between them. And then as quickly as the room reached a boiling point it simmered down. The door closed and Little turned to his task-force members. He glanced quickly at Manning. “My apologies for the outburst. Jensen and Navarro will tender their apologies to you in writing.”

  Tom wasn’t going to do any such thing, and a quick glance at Navarro told him his partner would take his back on it. Little glared at the duo as he buttoned his coat. “Before you meet with Getz, we need to talk.”

  “Yes, I think we do,” Manning said.

  “Thank you, but I can handle this,” Little told Manning.

  “Really, I insist.” Manning was standing up now, and as Tom looked at him, he realized that Manning resembled the physical description of the man Danny Hernandez claimed threatened him at WalMart the other day. He was over-weight, ruddy features, silver hair, dressed in nice dark slacks and a long-sleeved shirt. Tom wondered if he drove a Chrysler. Manning glanced at Tom, those cold eyes marking him. “I think we need to talk, the four of us, about why we came to the decision to close this case.”

  “I’ll handle that with my men,” Little said. “Besides, the decision wasn’t made by me. It was made by you, in concert with your old friends and some of the members of our city government who are here today. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Manning frowned.

  Little turned to Franklin and Tom. “Entertain us. Tell us why you think the case shouldn’t be closed.”

  “Little!” Manning warned.

  Little looked at Manning, then at Nichols and Wells and Dennison as well as the current government officials who were present, many of whom Tom didn’t know. “As long as Getz isn’t around to yell and scream in protest, I’d like to hear what Jensen and Navarro have to say. I think my people deserve to know why they’re being taken off this case so suddenly, and I think they need to hear from their colleagues why this case shouldn’t be closed.”

  “I second that motion,” Bernard Edwards, one of the task-force detectives, said from the back of the room.

  There were murmurs of agreement and Manning looked like he was going to protest again when Little beat him to it. He nodded at Tom and Franklin. “You have five minutes. Tell us what you found.”

  Tom glanced at Franklin quickly and nodded. Last night they’d agreed that if they had the opportunity, they would give a bare bones account of what they learned from a few unnamed sources and present their theories, based on the circumstantial evidence, that Doug Archer wasn’t Raul’s killer. They would also lay down evidence of criminal activity at the Valesquez house in the hopes of getting other members of the task-force to consider the possibility that Raul’s murder had been the result of this.

  Tom pled his case quickly and sufficiently. Laying out the bare facts, he set forth the groundwork that Doug Archer could not have committed the murder because he really was in West Hollywood that evening. He reminded the task force that Doug Archer recanted his original confession, and in the years that followed during his incarceration he insisted he was in West Hollywood the evening Raul was murdered. He presented the lack of physical evidence against him: the shoe print found near where Raul was found couldn’t be matched positively with Doug’s because no adequate soil sample was taken; the only comparison done was the shoe print itself, which was a waffle-print made by a Vans tennis shoe. In 1977, every kid between the ages of 10 and 20 wore Vans tennis shoes. The pair found in Doug’s bedroom when he was picked up might have been the same size as the print found near Raul’s body, but they could not positively tie him to the scene of the crime due to a lack of a soil sample. Plus, only a partial cast was taken of the footprint found, rendering that piece of evidence flimsy at best.

  Tom could tell that Manning was boiling mad but he ignored him as he continued. The witnesses who identified Doug as being a customer of Eva’s were lying—Tom had talked to two of them, one of them being Raul’s brother, Robert, who told him a few days ago that the only reason he claimed Doug was Eva’s customer was because he was angry and confused and he wanted a quick resolution to the case. “He basically told me he didn’t think Doug was ever at the house,” Tom said, facing the assembled throng. “He said there were so many men coming in and out of the house it was hard to keep them straight. I’d hardly call that a positive ID.”

  “So why did he say under oath Doug Archer was one of the men who came to the house!” Manning asked, his voice a low growl.

  “I’ll get to that,” Tom said, not even looking at him. “Here’s something else Robert Valesquez told me.” He leaned forward, his voice a low rumble. “He told me a lot of Eva’s customers back then were cops.” A loud gasp went up in the room. “Cops on this very force.”

  Manning shot to his feet. “If you’re insinuating that my men had anything to—"

  “I’m not finished yet,” Tom said, holding up his hand.

  “—do with Raul Valesquez’s murder, you are—“

  “I wouldn’t dream of suggesting a cop killed a kid,” Tom shot back, glaring at Manning. “Please, just shut up and listen to me. Okay?”

  There was deathly silence as the two men glared at each other. Little was tense; beside him, Franklin held his breath. Manning slowly sat down and glared at Tom.

  Tom turned back to the task-force. “Let me get back to the murder. Forget about what I said about cops on our force being some of Eva’s customers for a moment. That’s the least of our worries. Right now I want to explain to you why I don’t think Doug Archer killed Raul Valesquez. Okay?”

  There were some murmurs from the crowd and nodding faces. Tom felt good that he had an open, receptive audience. “Great. Now, what else do we know about the crime scene? We know that Raul was last seen in front of his home on August 27, 1977 at around 5:00 pm. This was a Thursday. Sunset was around 8:05 at that time of year. The coroner who did the autopsy on Raul estimated he was killed sometime between 5:00 and 11:00 pm that evening, which means he was picked up sometime after he left his house. We know from the evidence Professor Jenkins’s class unearthed that the DNA sample from the semen left on Raul’s body does not match Doug Archer’s DNA type. Thanks to modern forensics we can safely establish that Doug could not have been involved. What we do know was there was a lot of criminal activity going on at the Valesquez house. We have a lot of this on record, I might add, and Robert verified much of it. Some of this came out in the original trial and the prosecution suggested the only reason it did was to make the victims—the Valesquez family—look bad. It was a blame the victim mentality. I’m sure that happens, but in this case the Valesquez family—primarily Eva and her associates—really were involved in criminal activity, most of it drugs and prostitution related. The prosecution used that to explain how Doug Archer could have picked up Raul Valesquez—he was a customer of Eva’s. They hand-picked a couple of regulars to testify they saw Doug at the house. It was okay for them to admit wrong-doing at the house so long as they were able to show probable cause for the defendant to kill Raul Valesquez.” Tom Jensen paused. He had started pacing the room without realizing it. “I admit it looked bad for Doug. He did call the house, and he did ask to speak to Raul. He admitted soliciting Raul for s
ex. He also admitted calling other men whose phone numbers he got from bathroom walls. Raul’s name and number were found scratched into a phone booth at a skateboard park...a skateboard park Douglas Archer admitted attending for the sole purpose of watching young men skate. He also admits that he got Raul’s phone number from this very phone booth and he claimed he did not know Raul was underage. He also denied abducting, sexually assaulting and killing him. And here’s where the proof comes in aside from the DNA testing.” He picked up a folder he’d brought in the room with him. He held it up, suppressing the urge to grin. “This is a photocopy of the original police report on Doug Archer’s vehicle. The results show that the initial sweeping of his vehicle yielded no significant hair and fibers that—"

  “This is nothing new!” Manning protested. “The defense brought this up in the trial. You’re doing nothing but stirring the same old shit around.”

  Tom held up the folder. “Why didn’t the defense have access to this initial report?”

  “Who says they didn’t?”

  “According to the trial transcripts, the report they had access to was one taken five days after this report was made.” Tom paused as he let this fact settle among the minds of his fellow detectives. “No mention was ever made of this report, which firmly states there was no physical evidence Raul Valesquez was in Douglas Archer’s vehicle at any time. In fact,” Tom began pacing the room again, still clutching the folder. “In trial, it was suggested that Doug used another vehicle...his uncle’s. The prosecution painted a very convincing picture by bringing his uncle on the stand and asking him if his nephew used his car. His uncle stated that Douglas used the car a lot. There was only one thing wrong, though.” Tom paused, regarding his fellow detectives. “His uncle couldn’t remember if Doug used the vehicle the night Raul was murdered.”