Path to Justice

by Jim Dutton

  Josh had some time to kill on Wednesday night. He was sitting on his bed at the Holiday Inn watching Sports Center, and thinking there had to be something better to do on his first ever evening in Montana. He heard that Missoula was a town of micro-breweries. Checking on his laptop, he found Kettle House Brewery nearby, close to the University of Montana campus. It featured Bongwater Hemp Ale and Double Haul I.P.A. The name of the beers fit the theme of the trip. It was meant to be.

  Josh walked through the brewery door around 8:00, hoping he wasn’t too early for the local beer drinking crowd. He wasn’t. The brewery was jammed. He found an empty seat next to an ever so sweet looking cowgirl, sporting jeans, cowboy boots and a plaid shirt. Her clothes and her auburn hair, pulled back in a ponytail, couldn’t mask her beauty. Josh said to her, “I didn’t expect this place to be so crowded at this time on a Wednesday night.”

  She looked him up and down before answering with a smirk on her face, “City slicker you’d better drink up. This drinking establishment closes at nine. We get up early around these parts. We have things to do.”

  Josh looked down at what he was wearing, suede loafers, pleated slacks, and a light jacket over a polo shirt, and responded, “You’re right. My outfit doesn’t fit in, but my pickup truck with a gun rack is parked in back.”

  “I bet you don’t even own a gun, let alone know how to shoot one.”

  “You got me there beautiful blue eyes, but I was a terror in water gun fights in my youth. As for my pickup, it morphs into a Ford Escort rental car at closing time.”

  She laughed with a smile that draws you all the way in. “What are you doing here?”

  “I work for the U.S. Attorney’s Office in San Diego and I’m going to be here for awhile on a case.”

  “Is it criminal or civil? I’m curious. I’m getting my masters in criminal justice at the University.”

  “Welcome to the club. It’s a criminal investigation.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  “Maybe… after a few beers. No, really, I can’t, even if you ply me with alcohol. But it does involve a student at your school.”

  “Come on, I’m part of the law enforcement fraternity. My dad was the captain of a small police force for a town called St. Ignatius. It’s only 30 miles north of here, east of Dixon.”

  Dixon sounded familiar to Josh. He thought about it. It was the town that the crooks had stopped for a burger on route to the drug deal. “What was it like growing up in a small town?”

  “St. Ignatius wasn’t your typical small town. It’s on the Flathead Indian Reservation. Three groups share the town, the Indians, an Amish settlement, and other Montanans. The Amish drive their horse-drawn carriages to the stores. The entire Amish community turns out for barn or house building. They sometimes get a structure up in a few days. I grew up with the rodeo crowd. No barrel riding for me, I roped calves.”

  Josh grinned, “Remind me never to ask you to tie me up.”

  “Fat chance greenhorn.”

  For the next hour they swapped stories. Josh felt a connection between them. He said, “I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Juliet.”

  “I’m Josh, but you can call me Romeo.”

  Juliet said, “What a tired joke. Never heard that one before and I was just beginning to like you.”

  Josh, pretending chagrin, said, “That’s what all the beautiful ladies tell me. You’re going to have to excuse me while I polish up on my joke repertoire. Here’s my card if you ever want to give me a second chance.”

  “I believe in second chances. It’s your lucky night. I’m writing down my cell. Don’t abuse it. If you ever need any help on your hush-hush investigation, like talking to the student, let me know. I could use some real life experience for my masters.”

  “You don’t know what you might be letting yourself in for. It’s a rough crowd.”

  “I can take care of myself. I’m a calf roper remember. I grew up around a rough crowd. Hunted with them. Drank with them. And cussed with them.”

  “Fair enough,” said Josh, “I know I never want to make you mad.”

  “I will hold you to that Romeo, see you around.” Josh had the privilege of watching her gently sway back and forth as she walked out of the bar.

  At 10 the next morning, Josh and Mario were at the command post with ASAC Springer and other law enforcement. Josh and Mario briefed the interdiction team—not giving them any background on the case, except that the occupants could be armed and dangerous and might be transporting contraband. The traffic stop vehicle would have a two man team as would the canine vehicle. There’d also be two back-up vehicles, following the two primary vehicles. They were to take every safety precaution and pat down the occupants for weapons when they exited the vehicle for the canine sniff.

  Josh and Mario monitored the surveillance and traffic stop from the command center. Mitchell and Jorge Ramos left the brick house at 1:30 p.m. in the same pickup truck they had used in prior deliveries. They went down Orange Avenue to the Interstate 90 entrance ramp. The Montana Highway Patrol car picked them up once they entered the freeway, waiting for braking to show the faulty rear light. Before the Highway 93 exit that led to Dixon, the pickup had to brake for a car that cut in front of them. The pickup was red lighted by the Highway Patrol, and pulled over on the shoulder. The officer informed Mitchell of the brake light violation which seemed to ease quite a bit of tension among the occupants. As the officer was asking them about the title to the car being in the name of L&M Freight out of Imperial County, California, the canine unit pulled up with German Shepherd, “Klink”, and two officers. Mitchell and Ramos were informed they had to exit the car while Klink circled it. Mitchell and Ramos looking anxious. Mitchell said, “You’ve no right to do this.”

  “That’s for the lawyers and a judge to decide,” replied the ticket writing officer. Mitchell and Ramos were patted down for weapons. Ramos had a 22 caliber handgun in his coat pocket. Klink alerted to the compartment in back of the cab where there were two large duffle bags. At this point, Mitchell and Ramos were cuffed and put in the back of the patrol car. Inside one duffel were multiple, vacuum sealed packages of marijuana buds. The other bag contained larger size, vacuum sealed bags of a black, tar-like substance.

  A back-up team was called to transport the contraband to the state police evidence room. Another team waited for a truck to tow the pickup to the police yard for a complete inventory of the truck’s contents. It was all over by 2:30.

  Josh and Jerry flew out a couple of hours later. They landed at Lindbergh Field, dead tired, but looking forward to the early morning team meeting.

  Nick opened the team meeting on a congratulatory note, “Well done. It went like clockwork. I just got a call from ASAC Springer. One duffel contained 60, one pound bags of high quality marijuana buds, while the other duffel had 25 kilos of black tar heroin. Value of the buds about $150,000 and roughly $750,000 for the tar.”

  “The cartel should feel that a bit,” said Pepe. “We’re up on the accountant’s phones and hopefully we’ll record some ‘fall out’ chatter about the bust.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Familia investigation was going well after the drug bust two weeks before. The team had reason to celebrate the year’s accomplishments. However, Josh wasn’t interested in staying too long at their end of the year team party at Days End. Only the best for their task force. Cheap draft beer and Nick was springing for h’ors d’oeuvres. Nothing like buffalo wings and poppers, washed down by a pitcher of Milwaukee’s finest. Josh was eager to move on to his date with a hot court reporter from the federal district court. He had met her at a recent motion on another case. Josh had arrived at the courtroom early and was greeted with a big smile from Dawn. They chatted for a few minutes and met for coffee later. It turned out that they were both country western fans. For their first date, they were
going to see Ramblin On at a small venue in Hillcrest. After that, Josh was hoping to get lucky.

  Josh was thinking about how the evening would go with Dawn, when his reverie was abruptly interrupted by Nick’s booming voice, “I’m not satisfied about how far along we are on the Baja Norte Familia case. The bad guys have resumed the drug distribution, although they now seem to be keeping the drugs at the warehouse in Missoula, instead of college boy’s house. College boy has been sprung from jail by a pricey San Diego drug defense lawyer. He’s on bail. We need more evidence tying the upper echelon of the Familia to the overall drug-money laundering operation. We also need to know more about how they move the drugs across the border into California.”

  “On the plus side, the document part of the case is going well. We have boxes of records from the border banks and our forensic accountant is putting together transaction spread sheets.”

  Ana replied, “Nick, I thought this was a work free conversation zone. The idea was to relax, down a few beers, and look forward to the New Year.”

  “You’re right. It’s just that I’m frustrated and impatient. I want this case to move along as fast as possible.”

  “I hope you don’t have that same philosophy in bed,” said Ana, smiling.

  Pepe remarked, “Boss, either you’re blushing, or you just went under a tanning lamp to redden your pasty skin.”

  “Enough out of you wise ass. Pour me another beer.”

  Josh suggested, “Let’s take our mind off Nick’s sudden color change by playing a game of beer pong.”

  Mario said, “You got me and Jerry to play last time, never again.”

  “Ditto that!” exclaimed Jerry.

  Ana said, “I don’t know what is worse, the thought of playing beer pong again, or listening to a Rush Limbaugh inspired phrase, ‘Mr. Dittohead.’”

  Jerry replied, “Get off Rush’s back. He has a big influence on Republican candidates.”

  Ana, with a satisfied smirk, “I rest my case.”

  Nick intervened, “If I can’t talk shop, you can’t talk politics. As for gamer Josh, one drinking game. Anybody with huevos, girl included, will fill up their pint glasses for a winner takes all chugging contest. Just one time, and no sloppy spills of suds down the chin.”

  “Because I don’t have huevos, and never wanted them, I’ll referee for you boys,” said Ana, filling up each of their mugs to the top. She added, “On my count to three, go at it, and once drained, slam the mug back on the table, without breaking the mug.”

  On the count of three, Josh was the first to get the mug to his lips. More beer seemed to be pouring down Jerry’s face than his gullet. Josh was slowing as he reached the halfway mark. Pepe, Mario, and Nick were neck and neck. Nick then stretched out his neck, tilted his head further back and vacuumed the last eight ounces down. He slammed the mug down just before Mario, not spilling a drop. Nick let out a throaty roar, “Yeah, the old dog still has it. How does it feel to get whupped? It’s like riding a bike, you never forget how to chug. I was unbeaten in the fraternity circle at U.C. Davis.”

  Ana looked at Nick askance and said, “That’s incredibly impressive. Some people can talk about academic achievement or excelling in college sports, or making a significant positive impact on the college community. But who ever heard a grown man bragging that he was a frat boy, beer chugging champ?”

  “Okay, Ms. Politically Correct. I get it.”

  Josh said, “No matter what Ana says, I’m impressed. You beat me fair and square. I’m going home to lick my wounds.”

  Pepe said, “You may want your wounds licked, but only by the court reporter you’re taking out tonight. Good luck with that. Adios amigo.”

  “Later guys,” called out Josh as he walked towards the door.

  Jerry said, “I guess I have to bail too. I have to give my eldest boy the standard speech, to not drink or do anything stupid on his date tonight. I hope he keeps listening to me. He’s only 16 but is bigger and stronger than me.”

  Mario replied, “You don’t have to worry about that. You can still kick his ass—just fight dirty.”

  “Thanks Mario for the words of encouragement, but I wasn’t thinking along those lines. Your kids are only five and seven. You’re still in that non-worry, bliss stage, where everything you say to them is golden.”

  “You’re right partner. I’ll walk you out.”

  Pepe said, “Wait up guys, I have to get going too. To think I fought to stay alive in Tijuana for this year-end party. Nick, I thought you would have least upped your game to pitchers of Dos Equis in my honor.”

  Nick smiled at Pepe. “Old Milwaukee is a tradition. Just one of the fine traditions of this task force. However, I can’t tell you happy I am that you are here.”

  “Okay Boss, don’t get sentimental on me.

  Nick turned to Ana. “Well the beer chugging certainly cleared the room. I’m glad you didn’t take part or I’d be by myself. How about upgrading our drinking establishments? I know a nice restaurant in Del Mar, with a view of ocean that serves food at the bar.”

  “I was wondering when you would ask.”

  “I’ll meet you there. The restaurant is called Jake’s, off of 15th Street.”

  “I know it Nick. I live in Solana Beach.”

  “Fancy digs for a government employee.”

  “No, just a one bedroom condo. But it does overlook Fletcher’s Cove.”

  “Wow! You and your cat are living the good life. Where did I go wrong?”

  “Probably stems from your childhood Nick. Too late to do anything about it.”

  “I’ll mull over your sage observation while I’m waiting for you at Jake’s, sipping on a rum and tonic.”

  Twenty minutes later, Nick, out of breath, with sweat dripping down his face, saw Ana, cool as the far side of a pillow, sipping on a gimlet. “How did you beat me to my one and only upscale drinking establishment?”

  “Two things Nick—I drive a Porsche and you’re too cheap to pay for valet parking.”

  “Hey, they wanted five bucks. For five bucks I can jog two blocks.”

  “Tell me something I don’t already know. Nick, once in a great while, a guy has to spring a fiver to impress a gal. Not that it doesn’t impress me that you’re dripping with sweat and look like you’re ready to have a heart attack.”

  “Time to change the subject. Rico, get me a double rum and tonic. Make it with Myers and put a slice of lime in it. Thanks.”

  “Coming up Nick. Do you want the bar menu?”

  As Nick nodded yes, Ana commented, “On a first name basis with the bartender—I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.”

  They finished off a few appetizers in short order. The ceviche was great and the chipotle chicken quesadilla went down real easy. So did the drinks. They were on their third. Ana had moved her bar stool closer to Nick for some privacy from the other patrons. A sixties guitarist was playing soft rock. He had a good voice. The music and the third rum and tonic lifted Nick’s spirits. He began to relax and stop thinking about all the things that needed to be done in the investigation. This night he promised he would just let it all wash away. “Dreamer boy, come back to earth,” said Ana.

  “I was just thinking of having Scotty beam me up to the USS Enterprise. Star Trek, the best television show ever made. Did you know it ran for only five years?”

  “It was before my time. I was never a Trekkie.”

  “You’re never too young or too old to be a Trekkie,” said Nick, flashing her the Spock, Vulcan peace and prosperity sign.

  Ana laughed, “You can’t even get that right. There is supposed to be a large gap between your ring finger and middle finger, not a space that you can barely get a piece of paper between.”

  “I was just testing you. I knew you really were a Trekkie.”

  “Well, maybe our ages
are not so far apart.”

  “Right Ana, what’s almost 20 years between friends.”

  “Is that all we are Nick, just friends?”

  Nick paused for a long moment. He looked directly in Ana’s eyes. A smile crept over his face, tension went out of it. It was as if a few years had slipped away, just for that moment. “I have been fighting it. But no, Ana, we aren’t just friends. You’re so beautiful, intelligent, and incredibly sexy. I’ve been attracted to you for a long time.”

  Ana was completely taken back. She knew that Nick was attracted to her. But for him to come out and tell her was a shock. She beamed and gave her best Lauren Bacall imitation, “Nick, you really know how to chat up a dame.”

  “Ana, I keep asking myself how could such a knockout possibly be interested in an old warhorse like me?”

  “Well, Nick, even though you can be commanding, demanding, and a real pain in the ass, you are vulnerable and sensitive. Whether I like it all the time or not, you do have quite a presence. Most importantly, you make me laugh in your sarcastic and sometimes self-deprecating way.”

  “Thanks for sugar coating it. What you mean is, I’m usually an asshole, but I occasionally have my moments.”

  “That’s one way to put it Nick, but those are your words not mine.”

  Silence. Both were searching for the right words. Nick felt intimidated. He never felt intimated at work or in trial. Ana could make him lose his composure with one coy look, or any look for that matter. Ana began to smile, enjoying Nick’s discomfort. She knew that in this arena she was in charge. Ana took his head in her long, graceful fingers and said, ‘Let’s let life move on. Come on over to my condo for an aperitif or a Jack Daniels. I know Jack is your favorite late night drink.”