The .22 Caliber Homicides: Book 1 of the San Diego Police Homicide Detail featuring Jack Leslie

by William Barrons

As Leslie waited for the warrant, he climbed into the Lincoln Town Car in the parking lot and he called Ronica.

  “Sweetheart, unbelievable as it might be, Donald McCoy – his real name is just, “Coy” - has just formally confessed to killing nine people and he has even explained all those murders to me, for the record. He even refuses to accept an attorney to defend him. Now we can relax since you and Little Anne are no longer in any danger.

  “I have some business yet to attend to on Pacific Highway near Perry’s Breakfast Place. I think I can be there right about noon. Would you like to meet me there for lunch?”

  “Sure, I know the place,” Ronica McCarty said. “Good food. This morning I’ve just been reading; reading about writing novels. I keep saying, someday I’ll do it. By the way, Little Anne’s with her dad today. She’s even going to fix the both of them dinner. She’s learning to cook fairly well, so far. I’ll figure to be at Perry’s about noon, dear man.”

  Finally the judge’s order came and Leslie drove off followed by two patrol cars and a CSI van. The train of four vehicles pulled into the storage company yard and one cruiser blocked the entrance. There was but one car at the office and two cars and a pickup further on, with people loading or unloading their “stuff.”

  Entering the office, Leslie saw Sam Williams visibly lose color, blanching at the sight of Police Officers coming at him.

  “Mr. Williams,” Leslie said, “I have here a search warrant; it covers a storage unit, your records and your car. Is that your car parked there?”

  Leslie pointed to the one in front of the office.

  “Why, why no. My wife dropped me off today here and I don’t know whose car that is.”

  He looked to be lying so Leslie told Detective Alan to check the license and Alan went outside to do that over his radio.

  Then Leslie grabbed the “Rolodex” file off the counter and thumbed through it.

  “Isn’t this interesting, Williams? Right here’s the card with Donald McCoy’s name on it and his unit number. I can tell you the 10th Avenue address is wrong because he’s now in jail. Why did you lie to me when I asked you before if he had a storage unit here?”

  “Lie to you? Not me! No sir, I obviously missed seeing that card, that’s all!”

  “Sergeant Leslie,” said Brian Alan as he came back inside. “That car is registered to a Samuel W. Williams. Is that this man?”

  “This is getting interesting, eh Williams? Now, do you want to stop all that lying and give us the keys to your car or shall we take an axe to it to find what’s inside the thing?”

  “Oh shit! Here’s the keys! You might as well see but dammit, that stuff in there, that was stolen stuff and with that criminal in jail, it wouldn’t do him any good.”

  “So, you figure stealing stolen goods is somehow not a dishonest thing to do?” Leslie asked. “Well, let us go see what you have in that car!”

  Sure enough, on the back seat were four guitars, two of them in cases. The trunk was jammed full of computers and printers and other electronic items; even a bit of jewelry.

  “Samuel Williams,” Leslie pronounced as Williams stood teary-eyed beside the car, “you are now under arrest for the burglary of McCoy’s storage unit. Also, I’m charging you with obstruction of justice for lying to me about McCoy having a storage space here. I must tell you, if we had known of this space when I asked you about it, several good people would still be alive today. Officers, cuff him read him his rights and take him away.”

  They called the owner of the place to send a replacement for Williams. They found McCoy’s storage unit had only a few things left in it, including some expensive leather jackets and a cheap “Stevens” semi-automatic .22-caliber rifle. Williams’ car was impounded for the accounting of contents.

  With all that business taken care of, Leslie met Ronica at Perry’s for lunch. She already had them registered. As they entered, Leslie was surprised to see Perry herself was there instead of Margaret, her mom.

  “Mom’s got the sniffles today sir, that’s why I’m here. Everybody’s been talking today about your arrest of that killer last night,” Perry said. “Sergeant Leslie, that was one terrific show you put on.”

  “Oh please, we do that very thing fourteen times a day without TV cameras anywhere near. Perry, it was just routine,” he grinned.

  “Oh sure. Of course it was. Charlie,” she said to the greeter who seated everyone, “Please put these two very good people in that far corner in there,” meaning in the adjacent room where they would be a bit more secluded.

  As they ate, Ronica admitted she was a little nervous about returning to work on Monday. She told him Mr. Stevens was looking forward to scheduling their wedding reception – of course, they had weddings and birthday parties at the Cecilia Hotel nearly every weekend.

  “Very well, find out when he can squeeze us in and that’s when we’ll go get hitched. Okay sweetness?”

  “Yes, yes, my love.”

  “I found out that my pal Bob Jackson is off tonight and I’d like for us to go see his place up there in Bay Park. We can pick up Eric Jansen, too. You’ll remember him. And then tomorrow, maybe we can go to Mission Bay with Little Anne and look at boats. Boating seems much more of a fun hobby than anything. Want to?”

  They found out that evening from Eric Jansen and from the Jackson family that owning a house involved a great deal more work than in an apartment or condo. They had a fun time looking at boats on Sunday. They figured it was a great hobby but quite expensive. They’d have to think about what they found out.

  On Monday morning, September 22nd, 2008, Leslie was in court for the arraignment of Donald Coy. Also there were two of his Detectives from his Homicide Team Three and Captain Noffsinger.

  While they waited Noffsinger went over what Leslie’s responsibilities would be both as a Lieutenant Co-Commanding five Homicide Teams and as a Captain over about one hundred fifty Detectives and their Supervisors in the Investigations II unit. The Captain’s job seemed extremely complicated and diverse to Leslie, but Noffsinger assured him he would take over his job on January 1st with no difficulty at all.

  At 9 o’clock the courtroom was filled with court personnel and every seat available taken up with reporters from the San Diego Union-Tribune and all the TV news stations. They waited for Sherriff’s deputies to bring in the prisoner.

  After a bit of a wait, the Judge asked a deputy to find out what the delay was. By and by the deputy returned to say the prisoner was at the moment in a washroom as he had a very bad case of diarrhea. He was being guarded even in the washroom of course, by a Sherriff’s Deputy.

  The courtroom was abuzz with everyone talking as they waited and waited. Finally, a Deputy charged in to tell the Judge the prisoner was gone! The prisoner had escaped! Donald Coy had vanished! The Deputy that accompanied him into the washroom was just then regaining consciousness and was in his underwear and socks only!

  The prisoner had strangled him with the handcuff chain and stolen his uniform and belt and weapon. Dressed as a Deputy, he simply walked out of the building.

  As the room was in a riotous uproar, Leslie told Captain Noffsinger, “Sir, that’s State Street out there on the west side of this courthouse. Up State Street a few blocks is the Washington School which Little Anne attends. You’ll recall she’s the little girl Coy is obsessed with. I’m going to go up State Street right now in case he’s headed there to see her.”

  Leslie grabbed detective Brian Alan to accompany him and they ran to the parking lot and jumped into the big Lincoln Town Car. The lot was a madhouse of Police and Sherriff’s cars speeding off in all directions. Leslie put the flashing blue light on the roof of his Lincoln. Squealing tires, Leslie shot north up State Street, and was held up a bit at C Street for a passing trolley train.

  Pretty much ignoring stop signs and red lights, burning rubber going north much of the time, Leslie crossed B Street, A Street, Ash Street, Beech Street and Cedar Streets.

  Finally, there he was! Th
ey spotted Coy dressed in a Sheriff Deputy’s tan uniform running hard, pounding the sidewalk on the right side of the street.

  Leslie jammed on the brakes. “Brian! Get on the radio and tell where he is. I’m going after him.”

  Jumping out of the car, Leslie ran up the street half a block. Washington School begins at State and Date Streets and he saw Donald Coy in a Deputy’s uniform, duck to the right, into a yard. As Leslie got to that point, he couldn’t see the escapee.

  Too experienced to be careless, Leslie leaned tight against the front of the little house next door to the school. He supposed Leslie had gone between that house and the school building itself. There were flowers and bushes back there he guessed and he didn’t think it prudent to stick his head out too far.

  “Donald Coy!” he hollered. “This is Jack Leslie! Put down that gun and come on out here!”

  “Dammit Jack! I can’t do that! I’ve gotta see Little Anne! I gotta do it! Just one more time, Jack!”

  Leslie guessed he must be right next to the house, probably not more than twenty feet away, by the sound of Coy’s voice.

  “No sir! You cannot see that innocent child! Coy! Come on out and you won’t get hurt!”

  “Would you let me see her if I give up? Could I see her when I’m in jail?”

  “I’ll be honest with you, Coy. Let’s face it, you cannot ever see her again. Never! Never! That’s that. Now come on out of there.”

  “I was told that since I confessed to those killings, the State won’t execute me. It’ll mean all my life in prison. And now you say I can’t see that darling Little Anne again! Tell her I worshipped her, Jack. Tell her I loved her truly! GOD DAMN THIS LIFE ANYWAY!”

  He screamed and then a loud report, BANG!

  Leslie stood there, pistol at the ready, listening, waiting. He could hear sirens coming up State Street. He called out again.

  “Coy? Are you okay, Coy? Come on out of there. Come on out now; come on out here.”

  Detective Brian Alan came up behind him. “Sergeant, do you suppose he shot himself?”

  “I don’t know Brian. Wait. COY! DONALD COY! ARE YOU OKAY? TALK TO ME COY!”

  There was no answer from around the house.

  “Brian, show your badge and warn those arriving police to stay back. This could be touchy. He may have shot his weapon to fool us and then ran further on back of this house. But I don’t think he can get into the school from back there. You can only enter from State Street, up about half a block.”

  After repeated calls to Coy, there was no response. A silver-haired woman opened the front door of the house and looked down from her stoop at Leslie and Alan.

  “You must be Police,” she said. “I heard a shot. I can see out my window there’s a Police Officer laying curled up on the ground and he looks awful. I think he’s dead.”

  “Thank you missus,” Leslie said. “I’m police Sergeant Leslie. May I please come in?”

  She said “Yes” and Leslie told Alan to warn the other police to stay back for the time being while he double-checked about Coy from inside the house.

  Sure enough, Leslie as he looked out a window on the side of the house could see Coy. He was laying on his side and curled up in a fetal position, as the lady said. A pistol was in his mouth and his eyeballs were dangling from their sockets. Much blood was spilling out over the side of his head from those empty sockets. It appeared much of the top of his head was blown off.

  “Ma-am,” Leslie said to the lady. “Please don’t look out at the body anymore. He wasn’t a Police Officer. He was a very, very bad homicidal maniac and he stole a Deputy’s clothes. We’ll have him taken away pretty soon. Thanks for letting me in.”

  They taped off the scene and threw a yellow tarp over Coy’s body, being careful not to touch anything until the Crime Scene Investigators had taken their photos and all the rest.

  Among those crowding the scene was Captain Noffsinger. “Jack, here’s a case where the lawyers could’ve made millions from taxpayer dollars but McCoy cheated ‘em all, this time. He ended his miserable life like a caring citizen, seems to me.”

  “Yes sir, I think that’s true. Donald Coy wished to save California taxpayers lots of money, just like any caring citizen. I went into the school there to assure them all’s well and there’s no longer any sort of problem. The teachers at least were pretty shook up. I hope the kids don’t get traumatized by this happening right next door to them.”

  “Kids love drama, Jack. They’ll enjoy being afraid for a while, or pretending they are. Then they get over it.”

  That evening, newly promoted Lieutenant Jack Leslie went to Ronica’s for dinner. They enjoyed a fine meal built around T-bone steak this time, simply because that was what was next in the freezer.

  After dinner the three of them went into the living room to watch the news on television. Again, much time was taken in reporting the .22 caliber homicides case, the amazing escape of the prisoner and his subsequent suicide.

  “Little Anne, I feel I must tell you what Donald Coy said. These were practically his last words. He asked me to tell you that he worshipped you. He said he truly loved you. That’s what he said and I’m repeating this for you so you’ll understand that you do have important gifts. You can very certainly become the best actress Hollywood ever could know. Now, please don’t cry, for the reason Mr. Coy escaped from the courthouse was in the hope to see you one last time.”

  “Does all this help you understand?” Ronica asked her daughter.

  “Yes, I think so mom,” she cried. “Mr. Coy – that was his actually name, eh? Did he really confess to killing Mr. Williams, sir?”

  “Yes Anne, he did. And he explained the reasons he did it. He was surprisingly forthright in telling me about his crimes.”

  “He really truly said he had killed Mr. Williams?”

  “Yes, of course, Anne. I just said he did.”

  “Then I suppose that’s proof of his love. Please come into my bathroom. I have something to show you,” Little Anne said to Leslie. “All of what I’m going to tell you and mom, I had told to Mr. Coy.”

  The three of them went into the spare bedroom and then went left into the adjoining bath.

  Little Anne walked up to the toilet tank and lifted the lid, putting it on the seat.

  “Sir, in there is the gun I killed Mr. Williams with,” she said as she began crying with tears streaming down her face.

  Leslie looked into the tank and sure enough, there on the bottom was a little cast-brass Derringer “over and under” pistol with one barrel topping the other. He flushed the tank and waited until the water was low, reached in and retrieved the gun. It was rusting with a bit of green patina all over it. He could see that it was .22 caliber, not unusually small in that kind of weapon.

  He pushed a snap and broke it open to see indeed, the .22 caliber shell casing in the “over” barrel had the mark of a firing pin on it, showing it had been fired. The identical shell casing in the “under” barrel was unmarked by a firing pin and therefore not fired.

  Leslie closed the small and extremely simple weapon. They were rare these days, invented by a Pennsylvania gunsmith named Derringer much more than a hundred years before. They were easily concealed and had been made use of by card-playing gamblers and such.

  “Anne, would you like to tell me what happened the night Mr. Williams was here?” Leslie asked her.

  “Yes, I should tell you sir and get it off my chest. If I have to go to prison, that’s okay for I really did kill Mr. Williams and the only thing Mr. Coy had to do with it was he gave me that itty bitty gun. Right after we became friends, he gave it to me to protect myself since he knew I was alone at night when mom was at work.

  “Come into my bedroom and I’ll show you both,” Little Anne said, wiping tears from her cheeks.

  “I had no idea mom had brought anyone home. All of a sudden, I was laying here atop the covers in my nightie when….”

  “Wait a second Anne,” Leslie put in. �
��I specifically remember you were wearing satiny pajamas that night.”

  “Please sir, let me finish. I was laying I suppose on my back when I suddenly felt….I’m sorry,” Little Anne said as she began to sob.

  “That’s okay honey,” Ronica said. “Take it easy; take your time. I remember too Anne; you were wearing those nice PJ’s.”

  “Yes mom, but that was later. Anyway, I felt a finger – yes, a finger – pressed against my…my….thing! It woke me right up and because the bathroom light was on, I could see a huge man bending over me and smiling at me! He had pulled up my nightie and was trying to put his finger inside me! Oh my God!

  “I kicked him and rolled right over to the right side of the bed….right to here. I grabbed open that drawer and pulled out the little gun Mr. Coy had given me and I aimed it right at him and told him to get out of there!

  “He tried to calm me down, saying everything was okay but it totally was not okay by me and I screamed at him to get out of my bedroom and he backed up into the hall. I followed him out into the hall and I ordered him….I screamed at him, to get out of our house!

  “He kept smiling a sick smile, a really, really sick smile at me and tried to tell me everything was okay and no harm was done and that sort of rot!

  “I thought he really was going to leave and he was almost to the door out to the elevator when he suddenly lunged right at me and grabbed me! I guess I pushed him, to you know, to push him away but he was so strong, so very much stronger than me and he was squeezing me to him! I pushed some more and he went over backwards with me on top of him and somehow I was able to get that tiny little gun up to him and I pulled the trigger!

  “Dear Sergeant Leslie, I really did pull that trigger and it made a big sound and suddenly he wasn’t squeezing me anymore! I got loose! I stood up! The man just lay there and he was still and I knew he was dead. The blood was coming out of his chest and I knew I had killed him.

  “I didn’t know what to do. I just didn’t know for a bit anything at all as I just stood there and stared at that man who had tried to violate me!

  “Then I noticed my nightie had blood on it. It had the dead man’s blood on it! It was splattered with blood! So I ran to the kitchen and got a plastic bag and put the nightie in it and then put the bag under my mattress until the next day when I put it in the dumpster out back. I put on my PJ’s and pretended I had been asleep the whole time because I was afraid.”