by Leigh Jones
“I can’t quote you saying ‘balls,’ chief. This is a family newspaper.”
“We’re done here.”
Police raid uncovers prostitution ring
Pimp and girls escape, but evidence points to a well-organized operation at a seawall hotel
By Kate Bennett
Galveston police have uncovered a prostitution ring operating out of The Clipper hotel. Based on witness accounts, they believe at least four women and one pimp were involved, but none of them were at the hotel at the time of the early-morning raid.
Although the rooms once used by the operation were empty, guests and short-term residents had plenty to say about what once went on behind closed doors on the second floor of the crumbling motor inn on Seawall Blvd., between 14th and 15th streets.
“Men came in and out all night,” said Slava Yelyuk, a Ukrainian student staying in Galveston through the foreign student worker program. “We knew something bad was going on.”
Although Yelyuk and several other hotel guests previously reported to the police suspicious activity that suggested a prostitution ring, detectives had not launched an active investigation.
This morning, Police Chief Sam Lugar said he had not heard any reports of 9-1-1 calls made about prostitution at the hotel. He emphatically denied the police had ignored the calls. Although the department has an active prostitution task force, Lugar said the officers had been reassigned for the summer, to cover additional policing needs along the beach front and other areas frequented by tourists.
When hotel guests didn’t get a response from the police, they called the Gazette. Reporters conducted their own investigation. Observations made during the last few days corroborated the guests’ claims.
Early Wednesday morning, the Gazette witnessed 13 men visiting four rooms between 1:30 a.m. and 5:30 a.m. Before going into the rooms, they stopped and handed something to a man waiting outside. They each stayed about 20 minutes.
Although the alleged pimp and the girls were gone when officers arrived at the hotel, investigators discovered enough evidence to confirm a prostitution operation, Det. Peter Johnson said. The sheets had been removed from one of the rooms, but the trash cans were full of used condoms, tissues and paper towels.
In one room, officers found a makeup bag one of the girls evidently left behind. It contained lipstick, mascara, eyeshadow and brushes, but no identification. Investigators will send the items to a lab to be processed for DNA evidence, Johnson said, but the chances of finding a match to someone already in the system are slim: “Chances are, we may never know who these girls were or where they came from.”
The hotel manager may offer the best chance to get information about the man and the girls, but he’s not talking. Ricardo Peña, 27, is in police custody but has refused to answer any questions without his lawyer present. As he was taken into custody, he said he had no idea that anything untoward was happening in the hotel. But his office sits at the base of the stairs all the men used to get to the second-floor rooms. Hotel guests say it is unlikely the manager didn’t notice the unusual traffic.
“If we thought something strange was happening, how could he not know?” asked Jason Bevins, who came to Galveston for a week to go deep-sea fishing. Bevins and his wife said they suspected prostitutes but didn’t call the police. “I guess we just figured it was none of our business, you know? I mean they are consenting adults, and all.”
But Lorraine Hopper, visiting the island with her mother and two sisters for a girls weekend, didn’t take the situation so lightly: “I don’t care what anyone says, this kind of thing is not right, consenting or not. Plus, how do we know those poor girls weren’t forced to do it?”
Chapter 22
Kate sat at her desk, pinned to her chair by dazed exhaustion. She knew she should get up and go home, but she wasn’t sure she could even walk as far as the newsroom’s front door. The web editor had posted her story almost an hour ago, about the time her latte, sugar, and adrenaline rush wore off. Even though it didn’t turn out to be the scoop she longed for, Mattingly and Lewis were pleased. The Gazette had the story before anyone else, with details only Kate could provide. In the news business, you couldn’t ask for much more than that.
“Just let Haviland Bells try to tell me I can do more with less in this newsroom,” Mattingly crowed, holding aloft a half-empty bottle of spring water. “You can’t get this kind of dedication and persistence from stringers and interns. Boots on the ground! That’s what we need more of if this newspaper is going to survive. Good work, Bennett.”
Kate smiled weakly. Mattingly’s praise helped soothe the ache left by the story she knew she could have had, if circumstances had worked a little more in her favor. If it helped the managing editor save a newsroom job in his ongoing battle with the publisher, it was worth it.
“Look who’s kicking ass and taking names,” Delilah said when she and Ben walked in the door. She stopped short when she saw Kate’s bandaged forehead and cheek. “Whoa! I thought you got them, not the other way around. What happened?”
“Turns out my clandestine operation wasn’t so clandestine after all,” Kate said. She wanted to laugh but her head hurt too much.
“Does it look worse than it is?” Delilah looked genuinely worried.
Tears pricked the back of Kate’s eyes. “It is. Really. It’s nothing a long nap and the maximum dose of Advil won’t fix.”
Delilah arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not sure it was worth whatever you had to go through to get it, but it’s a hell of a story.”
“Yeah, great work, kiddo,” Ben said, with more sincerity than Kate had ever heard from him. “You made the police chief squirm. That always makes for a good day.”
“What’s your follow-up going to be?” Delilah asked. “Do you think you can find out who’s really running that ring?”
“I don’t know,” Kate said, letting out a long sigh. “The police have the hotel manager in custody, but he’s already lawyered up. Unless he starts talking or another witness comes forward, this whole thing may be a big dead end.”
“What about the hotel? You know who owns it, right?”
“No. I’ve been meaning to look that up, but I just got focused on the investigation. I can look it up in the property records database right now.”
“Don’t bother. I can tell you who it is,” Delilah said, a wide smile of satisfaction spreading across her face. “Eduardo Reyes.”
“What?!” Kate screeched, so shocked she jumped up from her chair. A surge of dizziness sent her head spinning and she quickly sat down again. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I wrote a story about it several years ago when he bought it. Wasn’t exactly big news at the time, but the Chamber of Commerce types got all excited because they thought he would tear it down. They expected Reyes to either develop the site himself or sell it to someone who wanted to build another fancy hotel. There was even some talk of him doing a deal with the city to put in a parking lot and some green space. But nothing ever came of that. It’s been business as usual at The Clipper ever since.”
“I’d forgotten all about that,” Lewis said, emerging from his office. “Kate, you should put in a call to his office and get a comment for the print version of the story. Pressure him to give you something about the manager. How long has he worked there? What does Reyes know about him? Does he report directly to Reyes about the hotel’s operations or does Reyes have someone else handling whatever day-to-day decisions need to be made?”
“And most importantly, ask him what he thinks of his hotel dragging his precious island through the gutter,” Delilah said. “If you can add Reyes to the list of people squirming over this, you will have had a very good day indeed.”
Kate’s heart thumped, and her hands tingled as the adrenaline and blood coursing through her veins gave her a burst of energy. The pounding in her head made it hard to think clearly. Was it possible that Reyes knew exactly what was going on at his hotel? He’d never admit it, but
could he have given the pimp his tacit approval for the prostitution ring? Could he be getting a cut of the profits? Could he even be the one calling the shots?
Kate took five deep, measured breaths before she picked up the phone. Her fingers trembled with excitement as she dialed the number listed for Reyes in her contact database. The law firm’s receptionist patched her through to his assistant, who said she didn’t know if he was in yet but would check. Kate’s grip on the phone tightened as the seconds ticked into minutes. She could hear the blood whooshing in her ears, louder and louder as the silence on the line dragged on. When she heard the click signaling someone had picked up the call, she started so violently she almost fell out of her chair.
“Miss Bennett, it sounds like you had a rough night,” Reyes’ voice oozed through the receiver. “Shouldn’t you be at home, recovering, instead of bothering me? I’m a very busy man.”
“Who happens to own the hotel at the center of the island’s latest prostitution scandal. Surely you had to know I would be calling, sooner or later.”
Reyes barked out one of his mirthless laughs. “I don’t spend much time thinking about what you might or might not be doing, Miss Bennett. I hope that doesn’t crush your ego.”
Anger burned in Kate’s chest like a bad case of indigestion. “This is not about me. This is about you and what you knew about a prostitution ring operating out of your hotel.”
“Well, I can guarantee you I had no idea criminals were using my property as a base of operations. If I did, I would have turned them over to the police myself.”
“What about the manager? What can you tell me about him? It seems very unlikely he didn’t know what was going on.”
“I don’t know the man personally. As you can probably imagine, I have too many business operations to oversee them all myself. I’ll have to talk to the person I have in charge of the hotel and see what he has to say. But I can pretty well guarantee he had no idea what was going on either. I don’t hire people who condone or get caught up in illegal enterprises, Miss Bennett.”
“So what you’re telling me is that no one associated with you knows anything about any of this. It sounds like someone’s not doing a very good job of keeping an eye on your assets.”
“Print that and I’ll slap you with a defamation suit so fast you’ll be looking for another job before the end of the week. Now, Miss Bennett, I have more important things to do with my morning than entertain your uninformed questions. Have a good day.”
Reyes hung up. Kate’s face burned with anger and indignation.
“That sounded entertaining. Get anything useful?” Delilah asked. Everyone in the newsroom had been listening to Kate’s side of the call.
“Nothing, of course. What an ass! He threatened to sue me for defamation. I don’t care how much he denies it. I’ll never believe he had no idea what was going on.”
“Bennett!” Mattingly yelled from his office. “I just got off the phone with the mayor. He’s called a news conference for this afternoon. He’s breathing fire over your web story. Claims it makes the city look bad and sends the wrong message about police and safety. I’m sure he’ll come at us with both guns blazing.”
“He’s just on the defense because Kate’s going to nail him to the wall,” Delilah said.
“That’s all well and good, but we can’t connect dots we don’t have,” Mattingly warned, striding across the newsroom to stand in front of Kate’s desk. “You be extra careful, you hear? You’d better be able to back up every word of that story. I don’t mind listening to the mayor whine, but I do not want to have the publisher tell me I have to cut staff so he can pay our legal bills.”
Kate’s mouth had gone completely dry, so she just nodded in reply. How had her victory from an hour ago evaporated into veiled threats that clung like a stubborn midday fog to her head? She was beginning to realize how Mattingly ended up with ulcers and anxiety attacks. Sometimes, being a reporter felt more dangerous than walking blindfolded through a minefield.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Johnson sat alone in his office trying to process everything he’d learned in the last 24 hours. His throat tightened when he thought about Kate’s battered face. He should have been there for her, no matter what orders he’d gotten from the chief. He’d vowed never to let his own bias blind him again. Kate called that an excuse for inaction. That’s not how it started. But was that what it had become?
Johnson had been disappointed when the chief called off prostitution stings at the mayor’s request. He thought it was short-sighted and unnecessary. But he tried to take a long view of the situation, knowing his officers would eventually get another crack at the operations. But in the meantime, how many women had suffered abuse at the hands of the man selling them, and the men who bought them? Waiting could create just as many victims as plowing ahead without having permission.
About 30 minutes later, the chief called an emergency meeting. Johnson walked down the hall to the conference room with a growing sense of dread.
“The mayor’s called a news conference for this afternoon,” Sam Lugar said once the investigators and senior officers had taken their seats. “As you all know, I postponed prostitution stings earlier this summer to give us a little break from the crime news that filled the newspaper several months ago. Obviously, the mayor does not intend to talk about that at his press conference.”
Lugar, who stood at the front of the room, paused to lean over the conference table, planting both hands in front of him and resting his considerable weight on his rod-stiff arms.
“But I have to explain why we haven’t been actively pursuing sting operations for the last few months. I’ve already had a very unpleasant chat with a reporter from the Gazette this morning. As I told her, and as I plan to say at the press conference, my staffing decisions were driven by a need to reallocate resources during the heavy summer tourism season. Our top priority is to ensure the safety of our visitors and residents, and that requires increased patrols and a more visible police presence in all the obvious places. We do not have the manpower for special operations in the summer.”
He paused again to look slowly around the room, making sure he had every officer’s attention.
“That’s my message. That’s the department’s message. And that’s the only message I expect to hear any of you sharing with your family, your friends, your neighbors, and strangers who stop you at the grocery store. If you get any calls from anyone in the media, tell them you cannot comment and direct them to the city’s public information officer. Are we clear?”
A murmured chorus of “Yes, sir,” reverberated around the room. Johnson swallowed hard. Lugar was lying through his teeth. Most likely to save his job. If he crossed the mayor, he wouldn’t last long at the head of the department. It was petty, and arguably despicable. But was that all the chief was trying to protect?
Johnson knew from the moment he put on a uniform he would eventually have to take an order he disagreed with. It was part of the deal he’d accepted when he joined the force. He’d learned firsthand the futility of vigilante justice. And he’d vowed never to put himself in that position again. But somehow that hadn’t seemed like enough protection. He needed someone else to call the shots so he wouldn’t have to. He still didn’t trust himself to make the right decision.
But what if the person giving the orders couldn’t be trusted either?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Several hours later, Johnson stood on the seawall watching as television satellite trucks pulled up and reporters jumped out, some with microphones already in hand. Kate and Doug Cowel had staked out spots at the front of the crowd gathering for the mayor’s news conference. Despite the oppressive heat, Kate had both hands wrapped around a giant cup of coffee. Her ponytail hung limply on her shoulders, and dark circles had started to form under her usually piercing blue eyes. She looked absolutely shattered.
At 3 p.m. on the dot, Mayor Matthew Hanes stepped out of an SUV parked at the curb near where city w
orkers had set up a podium. Lugar climbed out after him. Some of the more senior officers gathered on either side of the podium, part of Lugar’s choreographed demonstration of solidarity. Johnson and some of the other detectives and officers, many of whom had responded to the early morning call, hung behind the gaggle of reporters grouped in front of the podium.
“As you know by now, in the early morning hours, Galveston police officers responded to a call at The Clipper Hotel,” Hanes began. The clicking of Cowel’s camera shutter punctuated every third word. “A woman was attacked by a man thought to be operating a prostitution ring out of several rooms at the hotel. Based on eyewitness accounts and evidence found at the scene, it looks like the ring included four women and one pimp.”
The mayor paused to look slowly around his audience. Every time he listened to Hanes speak, Johnson pictured him in front of a jury. He had a lawyer’s cadence and flare for the dramatic.
“Prostitution is not new in Galveston,” Hanes continued. “Many of you have heard the stories of our historic red light district. Of course, that was a long time ago. But our fine officers have continued to pursue those involved in the world’s oldest profession, with great success, I might add. As our sometimes friends at the Galveston Gazette noted in this morning’s story, we have a prostitution task force, but it was not investigating the operation at The Clipper. But the Gazette was wrong, dead wrong—and I can’t emphasize this enough—to suggest any ulterior motive for the task force’s inactivity.”
Hanes paused again and fixed Kate with a withering stare that lasted several seconds longer than it needed to, even to make a point. Johnson’s eyes narrowed. Standing at the back of the crowd, he couldn’t see Kate’s face, but it looked like she met the mayor’s gaze without flinching. Atta girl. Give it right back to him.
“In a minute, I’m going to turn the microphone over to Police Chief Sam Lugar, who can explain our staffing situation during the summer, when the safety of our visitors, as well as our citizens, is our top priority. But the main thing I want to communicate to our friends in Houston and elsewhere in the state is that Galveston continues to be the closest, most enjoyable and most economical vacation spot in Texas. Once you walk our beaches, you won’t want to go anywhere else.”