by William Bebb
CHAPTER 5
The Holy Rollers
Lieutenant Bo Autry looked at the kid sitting behind the one way mirror-style window and wondered what the teenager's parents had been smoking when they named him. He glanced at the rap sheet and then back at the kid again.
Sixteen year old Yugo Samwise Wallace had been arrested seven times since his eleventh birthday. He was the only son of Dawn Mary and Randy Wallace whose current whereabouts were unknown. His parents were known almost affectionately as the 'Redneck Gourmets' due to their ability to produce a very successful line of Crystal Methamphetamine. There were outstanding warrants on both his parents related to a long list of drug related charges- most of which centered on the possession, sale, and manufacture of Crystal Meth. Their mug shots were on TV news shows and in newspapers with a frequency that many Hollywood actresses would be envious of. In addition to all the drug charges, the Bonnie and Clyde of the Redneck variety were also suspected in a few rather gruesome murders stretching back several years. Most of the dead would never be confused with choir boys. In fact, nearly all of them had records that involved some type of drug use or distribution charges. The murders were most notable for the wide variety of types of execution. None had been shot or stabbed, but perhaps the most infamous murder had been that of Jimmy Facker.
What was left of his burned body was found tied to a sign along the interstate that had the printed words Welcome to Beautiful Albuquerque. Under the state approved message, the Redneck Gourmets spray-painted Thou shalt not steal from us.
The coroner had never seen a death by alcohol infusion before and hoped never to see one again. The badly burned body contained almost no blood at all.
On the final autopsy report he wrote:
Subject appears to have had repeated blood lettings and infusions of alcohol, specifically tequila, before he was ignited. Given the sheer quantity of alcohol, subject was definitely dead before being burned.
Several witnesses described a man fitting the description of Randy Wallace fleeing the scene in a van identical to the one Yugo was driving when he was pulled over for speeding a few days earlier.
Bo heard the door to the hallway open and Captain Lopez came in carrying two cups of coffee and handed him one. Lopez was approaching retirement and was in a state of annoyingly perpetual good cheer lately. He bore a remarkable resemblance to Ricardo Montalban- an actor he always loved growing up especially for his work in the movie Star Trek, The Wrath of Khan.
But his favorite greeting for new inmates was actually from another show he'd often watched starring the late Montalban. He would walk into the prisoner lockup smiling and say, “Welcome to Fantasy Cell Block where all your fantasies come true, as long as they involve being raped by your cellmates.”
The only problem was that very few of the younger prisoners knew who he was doing an impression of.
Bo stared through the glass window and ran his free hand through the buzz cut hairstyle he wore and sipped his coffee. “He still won't say anything helpful. Just keeps saying he found the van he was driving and had no idea it had two hundred pounds of Meth in the back. Plus an impressive amount of firearms including my personal favorite- a highly illegal, fully automatic AK-47 Assault Rifle,” Bo said holding the cup with both hands, enjoying the coffee's warmth.
The captain smiled and looked down at the middle-aged lieutenant. “I think our long haired friend may be telling us a fib. Not even a very good one since the van was last registered to his parents according to the computer records,” Lopez said, leaning against the door and looking bemused.
“We've been sweating him since last Thursday and now his lawyer is pressing hard for Juvenile Hall. I heard he's even got a judge seriously considering it. I think the kid may be out of our hands before long. If they take him over to Juvie we may never know where his parents are hiding,” Bo said in a tone of voice that showed his growing frustration and anger.
“The Redneck Gourmets would most certainly be nice to find. Let's go ask him very nicely where they are again and see what happens,” Lopez said, tossing his empty coffee cup in the trashcan and opening the door.
Yugo was an unhappy teenager. His long greasy hair hung down past his shoulders as he stared at his acne covered reflection in the big mirror on the opposite wall. Having stared at the reflection over the last three days he thought maybe a little trip to the hairstylist was in order... if he ever got out of here. He felt the cold handcuffs and heard the metal clink as he tried to get more comfortable. The cuffs were attached to a bolt on front center edge of his chair, between his knees, and he couldn't raise his hands any higher than the tabletop in front of him.
His nose ring stud was itching like crazy and he leaned down to wipe it on the tabletop. He was still rubbing his nose on the table when he heard the door open.
“See what I mean, Bo? When I was a kid I used a handkerchief to wipe my nose, but kids today just wipe their snotty snouts anywhere,” Lopez said, walking around to the other side of the table and looking at Yugo with a sly grin.
“It's the upbringing, Cap, it’s not his fault. It’s certainly not his fault that he'll be spending the rest of his life in prison for being caught driving a van that he ‘found’ which just happened to have a couple hundred pounds of Meth and a nice assortment of guns in the back. And it was probably just a wild fluke that it just happened to coincidentally be registered in his parent’s name.”
Yugo looked at his reflection with a bored expression and ignored the officers. He'd heard it all before and knew under the law he was going to Juvenile Hall, not prison. He smiled slightly at himself in the mirror.
“Well, Yugo, I certainly can't blame you for protecting your parents. But I bet they're probably pretty concerned about you by now,” Bo said, shaking his head in exaggerated sadness. “Just think about your dear old mom worrying about you. She probably can't even sleep from staying up wondering if you're dead or alive.
You know, I can remember back when I was your age, Yugo. I went on a scouting trip for two weeks. When I got back home my dad told me all she did was worry while I was gone.”
“You told me about that once,” Lopez said, looking at Bo with a sympathetic expression on his face. “Didn't your dad have to take her to hospital or something?”
“Yeah, my mom got to worrying so much about me she forgot to take her medicine and suffered some kind of Diabetic seizure. My parents never told me about it, but my Aunt Abby told me all about how they had to take her to the Emergency Room. She said it had been a very close call.”
Yugo stiffened slightly when Bo said the words Diabetic seizure. It was a small thing, but both officers noticed it. They had access to all the Redneck Gourmets medical records including the fact that Yugo's mother, Dawn Mary Wallace, had been suffering from rampant unchecked diabetes for most of the last decade.
Bo snapped his fingers and had a look like inspiration had just hit. He looked up at the captain saying, “You know, Cap, since he's going to be transferred to Juvenile Hall just about any time now-” Lopez gave Bo a royally pissed off look as Bo continued, “...maybe we could cut the kid a break.”
“He's not going to Juvie and you know it, Bo,” Lopez said, through gritted teeth as his eyes flashed at him saying clearly with no words, “What the Hell are you doing?”
“Come on, Cap, he's not stupid. Our friend, Yugo, knows he'll probably be sprung sometime this afternoon and then what? Months, who knows, maybe years before he can even see a phone let alone use one. I have an idea,” he said, pulling his cell phone out of his shirt pocket and setting it in front of Yugo almost within reach.
“Just give us the address where your parents are and you can give them a call. Heck, we'll even step outside so you can have a little privacy,” Bo said, patting the teenager gently on the shoulder.
Yugo looked away from the mirror and up at Bo, then glanced at the captain who seemed genuinely furious. His dad always said cops were, “the stupidest fuckers ever given guns,” yet Yugo still had his
doubts.
If I could really use the phone, for just a few minutes, what would it hurt to give them a fake address? Yugo wondered. He felt undecided and hopeful at the same time.
“I'm sure you're thinking it's a trick but it really isn't. You're a smart kid and I'm sure you know how to erase the recent calls on a cell phone, right? All you need to do is tell us where-”
Captain Lopez interrupted, “You've got to be kidding me, Bo. He won't give us a real address. We'll be lost wandering the whole damn desert for weeks if we follow his directions. Just put the phone back in your pocket and let’s get out of here. I'm sick of looking at the little snot nosed bastard.”
Bo looked genuinely sad as he picked up the phone and put it back in his shirt pocket. “Yeah you're probably right.” But as he joined Lopez walking out, he gave Yugo a wink and patted him once again on the shoulder.
The teenager sat alone after the door closed and thought of his mom. While it was undeniably true that she wasn't much of a mother- she was all he'd ever had. He couldn't help feeling worried about her and felt tears leaking from his eyes as he stared at the table.
While Yugo may have had a long rap sheet, he was still just a young teenager who felt very alone and realized he might never see his mom or dad ever again. Mom does have a bad case of diabetes. She already lost both feet last winter. She really could die any day now, he thought miserably and cried harder, lowering his head down on the tabletop.
“I almost screwed that up, didn't I?” Lopez said, smiling and blushing out in the hallway.
“Nope, it was a spur of the moment idea, and actually I'm really glad you said what you did. I just realized Yugo, aside from being saddled with one of the worst names I've ever heard of, is still just a kid. He'll make the call.”
Ten minutes later, Yugo had managed to stop crying and was still sitting with his face down on the tabletop when Bo walked back into the room alone. He leaned down and set the phone in front of the boy within easy reach, saying, “Tell me the address and don't tell the captain that I let you borrow my phone. I really need this, Yugo. You can help us both out. Give me the address and I'll testify on your behalf when the charges against you go to court. If we bring in your parents, I'll even push for you to get probation and that's a promise. You could be a free man by this time next week.”
Bo opened the door to the hallway and added, “You can talk for five minutes then I'll come back for the phone. Just hit the clear recent dialed numbers button. Honestly, Yugo, I hate sending you away without a last chance to talk to your mom.”
He patted him on the back again.
“Hell, I don't care what you say. Tell her the cops are coming to get her and your dad. Tell her what’s in your heart, son. Tell your mom you love her. If you don’t believe me, and still think this is some kind of a trick, just take a look at the mirror. Go on, look.”
Yugo lifted his head and looked up at the mirror. He could see the inside of the observation room was empty. The lights were on in the room and now it was just a regular two way glass window. He looked up at Bo, with a faint hope in his eyes, cleared his throat and said, “They're set up cooking Meth at 2358 Longhorn Way. It's just north of town.”
Bo wrote the address in a little black leather notepad. He patted Yugo again and walked out into the hall. “Go ahead, talk to your mom. It’s okay. I'll be back in five minutes,” he said, closing the door.
Alone in the interrogation room, Yugo held the phone and checked to make sure it worked. He saw there was a good strong signal before playing with the buttons until he found the erase all dialed numbers button. He quickly called his mom’s cell phone while warily watching the observation room, ready to hit the erase button in case the cop came back in trying to trick him.
An electronic voice announced, “The number you are dialing is unavailable. To leave a message press one.”
He hit the button and for the next three minutes told his mom he loved her and was sorry he got caught. And warned them they should be careful even though he'd given the cops the address to an empty lot where he used to sell Meth. Then he pushed the buttons to erase the number he'd dialed. The boy smiled smugly, thinking, Dad was right, cops really are morons.
Bo walked in and set a can of soda on the table in front of the boy with a straw sticking out, and retrieved his phone. “Your ride to Juvenile Hall is here. I hope everything works out for you, kid. You did the right thing,” Bo said, as he walked back into the hallway.
Lopez smiled and shook Bo's hand as they went to his office to retrieve the ‘erased’ number.
Meth heads are so much fun to deal with at times, Bo thought as they walked down the hall chuckling.
Ten minutes later they'd retrieved the number but weren't happy.
“It must be in an area without cell coverage or she might have it turned off,” Lopez speculated, as he tapped a badly chewed wooden pencil on his notepad.
There was a knock on the door, and Captain Brett Wyatt was invited in.
Bo yawned and leaned back in his chair as they discussed the ICE, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, raid scheduled for early the next morning. After several minutes of discussion, as Lopez looked over the map of the trailer park, he asked, “Bo, do you want to buddy up with Wyatt on tomorrow’s raid?”
“You might have to speak up a bit,” Wyatt whispered.
Lopez looked up and saw Bo had fallen asleep while sitting in his chair.
“Well, he's had a busy last few days,” the captain said, shrugging. “Why don't you take that new kid, Holmes, Thomas Holmes, with you? He's scheduled for duty at midnight anyway. I'll tell him he can sleep until-” he consulted the paperwork for the raid before continuing, “six in the morning then you two can go out and play backup for the kids from ICE.”
“Whoopity doo,” Wyatt said, in a tone of voice that suggested a distinct lack of excitement at the prospect.
“It'll be a cakewalk. We've never had any serious trouble with the guys living out there, and frankly I think it's all a waste of time. But Keck over at Beaumont Industries has his panties in a bunch because only half of his employees showed up for work on Friday and this morning. Keck's an idiot. He probably did something that pissed them off and that’s why they didn't show up. Hell, I'd bet twenty bucks they've just picked up stakes and already moved on.
But you know he's got friends in the capital, so when they called ICE for a raid they had an order for it by noon and lucky you- you get to ride shotgun.”
“It’s a fucking waste of time,” Wyatt noted, looking at the map of the trailer park.
Lopez smiled and said, “True enough. I bet you guys have either got them all rounded up by noon tomorrow, or you'll find a bunch of empty trailers with no forwarding addresses.”
“I'll take that bet. I'm afraid we'll be out there all day chasing them through the desert,” Wyatt said, grunting as he heaved himself to a standing position with his big belly hanging over his belt.
“Well a little exercise certainly won't kill you,” Lopez said, chuckling.