Roaches Run

by John Wasowicz

  Hammond was transported by helicopter to Johns Hopkins Medical Center in Baltimore because of possible brain injuries sustained in the beating, according to police.

  “Something like this just doesn’t happen in Crystal City,” said a resident of an adjacent building. Crystal City is a composite of retail, commercial, and residential offices sandwiched between Pentagon City and Potomac Yard.

  Whistleblower Case Collapses

  By Tom Mann, chief investigative reporter © Chronicle

  https://Hammond>investigation>whistleblower

  May 11, 2011 — A highly-publicized investigation into alleged wrongdoings by Phil Landry, an Alexandria detective, has collapsed, according to informed sources.

  A lead Justice Department official has been removed from the case and a letter of apology has been issued by the department to Landry, indicating the case was without merit, according to two individuals who have seen the letter.

  “It’s rare to see a case take a 180-degree corrective action,” said one DOJ official, who spoke on the condition of anonymity given the sensitive nature of the investigation.

  The person who filed the whistleblower complaint against Landry that started the investigation has been identified as Ruth Hammond.

  Whistleblower Alleges Fraudulent Plea Bargains

  By Tom Mann, metropolitan desk © Chronicle

  https://investigation>whistleblower>Alexandria>Landry

  January 14, 2011 — Phil Landry, a decorated Alexandria police detective, is under investigation for falsifying information provided to the Alexandria Circuit Court in order to close felony cases.

  The U.S. Department of Justice has launched an inquiry into several of Landry’s cases following allegations by a whistleblower that Landry perpetrated a fraud upon the court in obtaining several criminal convictions.

  Fernando Pena is reportedly heading the DOJ inquiry.

  To ensure the safety of the whistleblower, that individual’s name has not been made public.

  Katz grabbed his phone and called Santana. “That investigation ten years ago into Landry fixing cases,” he said. “It got started because of an article by a researcher. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  “Of course,” Santana replied. “I’ll never forget it,” Santana replied. “Her name was Ruth Hammond.”

  “Did you listen to Tom Mann’s radio show last night?”

  “No. I heard about it though. He linked her attack to Landry, from what I heard. I’ve got to listen to the podcast later today.”

  “Do you remember how her name was made public?” Katz asked. “According to some stories I just looked at, her name was not disclosed when the investigation started. By the time it fell apart, however, her name was all over the place. How did that happen?”

  Santana fell silent. “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Roaches Run.”

  “I’ll meet you in your office in thirty minutes.”

  **

  SANTANA AND KATZ sat opposite one another at the conference table in the U.S. Attorney’s office. The door was closed. A milky sun shone through the windows, bathing the office in a warm glow. Santana looked out the window as he spoke. “Landry was racking up big wins in Circuit Court based upon flimsy evidence. At the time, people said the convictions looked sketchy.”

  “I remember that,” Katz frowned. “I’d just left the Commonwealth Attorney’s Office and gone into private practice. In fact, I represented Stone after Landry filed a complaint against her.”

  “Landry filed it in retaliation for Stone looking under rocks to dig up stuff about his conviction rate,” Santana said.

  “So I’m learning.”

  “She didn’t tell you at the time?”

  “Stone was a mess back then, Curtis. She held most things private. She wanted to beat the rap and stay on the force. I didn’t spend much time thinking about Landry’s motivation. My job was finding a technicality to beat the rap.”

  “Makes sense,” Santana said.

  “So tell me about Ruth Hammond. Who was she?”

  “Hammond was a graduate student at one of the local colleges,” Santana said. “She interviewed a guy named Trey Carr as part of some criminal justice reform project. He told her that he was pressured into pleading guilty because Landry had the goods on his nephew, a kid named Suleiman.

  “Her research came to the attention of Freddy Pena, a veteran auditor at DOJ. He launched an inquiry. For a while, it looked like Pena had uncovered a major case of malfeasance.

  “As the investigation heated up, things fell apart. I don’t know how Landry did it, but he poked holes into Pena’s work and discredited him. The Chronicle ran a devastating series on Pena, basically calling him a fraud.”

  “I remember that,” Katz said. “The spotlight turned on Pena. He wilted.”

  “I always thought it was a tragedy. I knew Pena. He was a good man, did good work. People respected him. I always suspected Landry was somehow pulling strings behind the curtain, considering how the whole thing went down.”

  “But what about Hammond?” asked Katz. “How did her name get in the public domain?”

  “The Chronicle exposed her,” Santana said, running a thumb and index finger over the corners of his open mouth.

  Santana, who had been looking out the window all this time, turned and looked at Katz. It was evident that the case still bothered him. “The way I see it, Mo, Landry fed false information to The Chronicle about both Pena and Hammond and the newspaper never fact-checked its own story.” Santana stopped abruptly.

  “And?”

  “I always harbored a suspicion that the attack on Hammond was connected to the investigation. Not that I was pointing the finger at Landry. But I always thought there was more to it.”

  “I appreciate your candor, Curtis,” Katz said. “Ever since the explosion at Roaches Run, I can’t put aside the feeling that something isn’t matching up. I was there, on the ground. It just didn’t feel like all the pieces fit together.”

  “Yeah, sorry about not closing that loop, I’m still waiting to hear back from the coroner,” Santana said, recalling he’d promised Katz that he would confirm the identity of the victim.

  The sun slid behind clouds and the milky glow that permeated the office disappeared. A dull, dark tone replaced it. The room grew cool.

  Katz glanced at his phone. There was a news update.

  BREAKING NEWS

  This is a developing story

  Tom Mann, City Editor © The Chronicle

  Arlington police have reopened an investigation into the facts and circumstances surrounding a near-fatal assault that occurred in Crystal City ten years ago.

  As information about the case came to light last night, Arlington police immediately launched an inquiry into the cold case.

  On the evening of October 6, 2013, Ruth Hammond was brutally attacked in a parking garage in Crystal City. She was rushed to Johns Hopkins Medical Center, where she staged a miraculous recovery.

  Today, Hammond is confined to a wheelchair. She is the chairwoman of “Restore Our Dignity,” a nonprofit organization that helps victims of brutal assault.

  In 2011, Hammond did research for a graduate school project about possible irregularities in criminal plea agreements in Alexandria Circuit Court. As a result of her work, an official investigation was launched by the Department of Justice under the leadership of Fernando Pena. The investigation was discredited and discontinued, in part because of stories that appeared in The Chronicle.

  Those stories were based upon false and misleading information supplied to the paper by Phil Landry, the subject of the investigation.

  According to newly discovered evidence, Landry is the prime suspect in the assault on Hammond.

  The evidence is included in a privately commissioned report conducted by Page Investigative Services for Hammond’s family. The Chronicle obtained a copy of the report yesterday.

  Landry died yesterday, the victim of his own suicide b
ombing at Roaches Run. At the time of the explosion, Landry was under investigation for conspiring to conduct a train bombing in Washington, D.C.

  “No one is going to be surprised if it’s determined that Landry assaulted Hammond,” said one veteran law enforcement officer, who asked to remain anonymous because the investigation is ongoing. “He was rotten to the core and had been for years,” the source said.

  Katz immediately called Stone, but she didn’t answer.

  Four Years Ago

  MANN SCORED a television interview with Abe Lowenstein about the discovery of a body in the water off Daingerfield Island. His coverage of that story restored his reputation and credibility with the public and within the Washington press corps. He earned an Emmy for outstanding local reporting.

  The Chronicle, now an online paper, hired him back. He promised he’d play it straight from this point forward. He would study every story idea that crossed his desk with a healthy degree of skepticism. With one exception. The exception was if an opportunity arose for him to avenge himself for the lies and deceit perpetrated by Landry.

  Chapter Twelve: Afternoon

  KATZ BELIEVED that the custodian of records was an important position. That person catalogued evidence and stored case files and, in so doing, learned things about a case. For that reason, he developed a relationship with Joey Cook dating back to his days as a city prosecutor and as a criminal defense attorney. Cook, the custodian of the Alexandria Police Department’s property room, never disappointed.

  “I hear the evidence collected at Roaches Run is being stored in Alexandria,” Katz said.

  “I can confirm that to be the case,” Cook replied in an official-sounding tone. Roaches Run was on federal land in Arlington County. Other things being equal, the evidence should have been transported to Arlington. “Requested by her high excellency, the Honorable Sherry Stone.”

  “She carries a lot of weight,” Katz said.

  “She’s in charge of the task force, and it encompasses both jurisdictions,” Cook replied. “I suppose that’s the explanation. I don’t think people like her, but they follow her instructions. Everyone can see the writing on the wall. She’s a poster child for the police department and she’s going to go places in law enforcement.”

  Cook spoke contemptuously of Stone, whom he’d known since her rookie days. He didn’t hold it against Katz for salvaging her career, but that was because he admired Katz’s courtroom machinations and not because he believed Stone’s misconduct deserved leniency. Despite the fact that she was an exemplary officer today, Cook resented that she stayed on the force.

  “That may be,” Katz said mildly. “Well, I thought you might know if a cell phone was turned in as evidence.”

  “Sure was,” Cook replied. “Except there was something strange about it.” He waited until Katz inquired further — a rough equivalent of pretty please — before providing more information. “Landry’s phone was not turned in when most of the other evidence was, including the computer stuff. It turned up today. When I asked about it, I was told it must have been overlooked.” Cook cleared his throat. “Your inquiry about it only confirms my suspicion. I think someone hacked into it before turning it in. Makes sense, you know. It’s a pain to get the phone manufacturers to help you crack a phone. I figure someone tried to get into it right away, see what was inside.”

  “Maybe,” Katz said. “Who turned it in?”

  “Uniform,” Cook replied. “It’s banged up pretty bad, looks like it was retrieved from a war zone, which, when you stop to think about it, it was.”

  “When’s it going to the lab?”

  “First thing Tuesday morning. Why? You interested in looking at it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, I’ll let you know if I learn anything that raises suspicion about the whereabouts of that phone,” Cook said.

  “Thanks, Joey,” Katz hung up. Katz believed the phone had been placed at the scene during the night. Given the lax nature of security at Roaches Run, it was easy to do, and that supported his view that the party communicating with Stone was outside of the van.

  Until now, Katz believed that Landry faked his own death. A new theory was rattling around inside his head. To test it, he needed to know the identities of the people who carried those backpacks filled with books. He wondered if Lin was having any success.

  **

  “WHAT DO you mean, you don’t have them?” Mai Lin asked, incredulous. “Didn’t you put anything into evidence?” It took her over a dozen phone calls and emails to track down the official in charge of collecting evidence from yesterday’s incident at Metro stations. As it turned out, everybody and nobody was in charge. There was no coordination and, a day later, no one took responsibility for anything.

  Twenty people carrying H-Pack backpacks had been stopped around Lafayette Square and Black Lives Matter Plaza. Based on the information assembled by Lin, no single policy was applied. Some people were stopped at the stations and then released, while others were taken to district stations and then released. No one was booked, so there were no photos or fingerprints of anyone, and there were no signed statements. Some of the individuals provided names and addresses, but no one verified their identity and there was no guarantee the names that they gave were their real names.

  There was a partial list of the individuals stopped by police floating around somewhere.

  Furthermore, none of the items in the H-Pack backpacks were retained by the police for further examination. Everything had been returned or thrown away.

  “There’s no evidence because there’s no crime,” an irate investigator replied to Lin. “There is nothing to show you. Zilch. Nada. Nothing.” He stretched out his hands and opened his palms. “These people are very unlike the mob that desecrated the Capitol. This crew was just walking around with backpacks. They didn’t desecrate anything.”

  “But what if we want to examine the items in the bags?”

  “You’re — out of luck.” He paused between you’re and out. Lin was pretty sure she knew the word he intended to insert. “Anything left behind was either thrown out or donated, you know, like a jacket being sent to a homeless shelter. That sort of thing.”

  “You should have held onto their belongings,” she said.

  “What for? They didn’t do anything. Those people shouldn’t have even been stopped, according to some of our attorneys. We’ll be lucky if they don’t sue us for wrongful arrest or malicious prosecution.”

  Lin showed her exasperation. “It can’t be wrongful arrest if there wasn’t any,” she said pointedly. “And it can’t be prosecuted if no crime was charged.”

  “Don’t get technical with me, lady. You know what I mean.”

  Lin shook her head. “I don’t believe it. You receive a warning that people may be carrying bombs in H-Pack backpacks to Lafayette Square and you just let everyone go. How can we follow up leads if we’re unsure of names and don’t have the evidence?”

  “Follow up what leads? What evidence? What are you talking about?”

  Lin should have stopped quarreling, but she went over the official’s head to his supervisor, and over the supervisor’s head to a deputy police chief. That’s when Katz got a call.

  “You better come over and collect your research assistant,” he was advised. “She’s driving us crazy. She’s going to be in the lockup before the day is over if she’s not careful. She doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the phrase ‘outside of your jurisdiction’.”

  Katz made a few quick calls to defuse the situation.

  “This is B.S.,” Lin said angrily when she spoke to Katz a few minutes later. “I mean, these people actually threw away or donated evidence.” A thought popped into her head. “Got to go,” she said and hung up.

  **

  RATHER THAN throw away the books confiscated at one of the police substations, someone contacted a bookstore to see if they were interested in them. An employee came over and picked them up. The books were now at a use
d bookstore near Dupont Circle.

  The books were in a box in the back of the store. Lin sat on the floor going through them. She looked for inscriptions from owners or authors, or labels from libraries or bookstores. She shook the pages of each book to free any photos or notes stuck between pages.

  She had no luck at all until she opened the last book. It was a copy of the new edition of The Rhythmic Cycle of Life. Inside the front cover was an inscription that read:

  F — We have come full circle. May this merit the redemption you long desired—Ari

  Not knowing whether to attach any significance to the note, Lin called Katz, who didn’t answer.

  Then she called Stone.

  “I’m not sure how that’s going to help us,” Stone said. “There’s no correlation between Landry’s plan and some person walking around the city with a bunch of books. You shouldn’t have even bothered with the follow-up. It’s a waste of time.”

  “If you say so,” Lin said, feeling dejected. “I’m going to let Mo know anyway. He might feel otherwise.”

  “Don’t waste his time,” Stone instructed. “Mo’s got more important things on his mind. I’d just forget about this one.”

  “Hmmm, well, ok,” Lin replied. After she hung up, she sat and thought a minute. Then she took a couple of photos. She attached the photos to a text to Katz.

  **

  STONE WALKED along the brick sidewalk leading to her townhouse. God had thrown her a curveball. Here she was, a law enforcement officer sworn to uphold the law. She thought back to when Katz defended her in that cocaine case. She was a rookie cop who didn’t fit in and was beset with a host of personal and professional issues. Life was complicated.

  When Katz took her case, his sole concern was finding a credible defense to beat the rap. He didn’t care whether she was guilty of a crime. In truth, she was guilty as sin. Not only was she using coke, but she was using it on the job. Her judgment was marred. And though no one ever found out, she had been compromised in another way: Her drug supplier blackmailed her into overlooking criminal activity that came to her attention.