Path to Justice

by Jim Dutton

  “Okay, you seem to know all my secrets,” whispered Nick.

  Nick left his car on the street a couple of blocks away and they went in Ana’s Porshe to her condo on the cliff. The sheer cliff rose a couple of hundred feet above the sea. Ana had a 180 degree ocean view from her upstairs bedroom, her living room and her patio. Nick spent the first five minutes on the patio, gazing, letting the cool onshore breeze caress his face. “This feels so good,” murmured Nick.

  “Here’s an aged port for my aged prosecutor. It should be very smooth, with a pleasant after taste.”

  “How many more sensations do you have in store for me, Ana?”

  “Wait and see. Let’s start with some Miles Davis drifting in from the living room and a fire in the pit. The gas heats up the volcanic rocks in no time.” They sipped the port and told each other a few chapters of their lives.

  “Before you get too comfortable Nick, I have a final exam for you. Do you see the steps over there which cascade down to the beach? We’re going to take those steps, strip down and jump into the ocean. Then, after our leisurely swim, we will race back here and relax in the hot tub.”

  “I knew you were crazy when I checked you out for the team, but not this crazy. The water temperature can’t be more than 55 degrees, it’s a public beach, and there’s a real question about whether my knees can get me back up those stairs before morning.”

  “No risk, no reward old man.” Ana took off for the stairs, starting down, without looking back. Nick knew this was a defining moment. There really wasn’t any choice. He had to follow her. When he got to the beach, Ana was slipping out of her underwear and brushing her hair over her ears. It was almost more than Nick could stand.

  Ana didn’t hear Nick shout, “Wait up,” because she was diving into a breaking wave. Nick shed his clothes in record time and jumped in. His whole body contracted. He gasped for breath. The only thing he could think was, What would they say in the papers?—Naked Prosecutor Found Strewn on the Beach, Dead from an Apparent Heart Attack. Luckily, the thought washed away when Ana rose from the sea, facing him, water dripping between her taut breasts. He scrambled to her, falling into her, grasping her to him as they plunged underwater. They came up together. Nick found her lips and they melded into one.

  Separating at last, Ana whispered, “I always wondered what would win out, cold water or hormones. To your hormones,” nibbling on Nick’s ear.

  “I love this first act, but as you said at the bar, ‘Let’s let life move on’. Time for the race up the steps to your condo. And we can skip the hot tub, just a very quick warm shower and bed.”

  “That’s the command presence I know and love. See you at the top.” Ana only had to wait for him at the top of the stairs for 30 seconds. When there is sufficient incentive, and numbed knees, Nick does surprisingly well. The shower was brief. Nick didn’t even look at the gorgeous ocean view from the bed. He could’ve been anywhere as long as Ana was intertwined with him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Afew weeks later, Nick was sitting at his desk, staring outside at a cement walkway, a narrow strip of grass and the adjacent wall of a warehouse. Nick was deep in thought. For once, it wasn’t about the case. He allowed his mind to go back to the night with Ana. Plunging together into the frigid waters, racing up the steps, his skin coming alive again under the warm shower, and finally a full night with Ana in her bed overlooking the ocean. He hadn’t felt that relaxed and good about himself for years, if not decades. A smile came unbidden to his face. The smile was brief. A wave of guilt flooded in. He thought about the years he and Judy had together, and their two kids. Nick believed his marriage was worth saving. He just had to convince Judy of it. But, they had been separated for over six months and Judy hadn’t shown any signs of wanting him back.

  She kept saying, “I need personal space to know what I really want.”

  The last time she said that, Nick made a cardinal mistake—he spoke his mind. “This isn’t the sixties Judy. We’re middle-aged people with adult responsibilities. Everything can’t be just as you want it. It takes compromise and tolerance.” For that he got a door slammed in his face. He had to admit the compromise and tolerance statement was a bit holier than thou. Compromise and tolerance hadn’t been strong points for Nick in their marriage. He expected the family to adapt to his job pressures. He still needed to work on that. Nick pushed all these thoughts out of his mind. He was good at that. If his job taught him nothing else, it was how to compartmentalize. He had learned to shut off most of his emotions and just do the job at hand. That was the only way he could handle child molest prosecutions or interview family members of murder victims. Years before, when a five-year-old girl told him all the awful things her stepfather did to her, he didn’t want to hear it. He just wanted to throttle the perpetrator. Instead, he had to have her repeat what happened, and if the case went to trial, she would have to tell a jury about the most private and painful events imaginable.

  Nick knew he had to leave the sexual assault/child molestation unit years ago when he felt impatient with a 12-year-old victim who was crying on the stand. He just wanted her to get through it so he could go to lunch with his fellow prosecutors. He had become so numb to the horrific things that the child victims had gone through, that he was no longer connecting, shutting everything out.

  Just as he had cleared his head, Nick heard a knock on the door, and Ana’s voice, “Can I come in?” as she opened the door and walked in.

  “Sure, oh…, you’re already here.”

  “I’m not that easy to get rid of,” she retorted, with a hint of anger in her voice.

  Nick thought, Oh shit, we’re going to have to talk about what happened that night sooner, rather than later. He had been putting it off, pretending at work with Ana that the best night he had spent in years somehow had never occurred. Nick chose to ignore the underlying tension, and asked, “What have you got for me?”

  “Personally or work wise?” responded Ana.

  “Last time I checked we were at work.”

  Nick’s snarky comment was aptly rewarded by Ana’s curt response, “I happen to have good news on the case which I’m still going to let you know about, even if you are an asshole.”

  “I thought it was already established that I’m an asshole. Go ahead Ana.”

  “Last week I went to the San Ysidro and Tecate border ports of entry and talked to the officers of the day for U.S. Customs and Border Protection(CBP). I gave them the names of the targets and their vehicle licenses. They put the information into the computer data base. Anytime one of the vehicles comes northbound to the checkpoints at the border, it’s flagged. Once flagged, the border agent will have the discretion to send the vehicle to secondary for further investigation. CBP also briefed their border interdiction teams about our case. I just got a call from an agent at the San Ysidro port. A Toyota, owned by Luis Hernandez-Lopez, was sent to secondary. A Felicia Esperanza-Salas was driving, date of birth, 2/15/1992. A dog alerted on the car and the dog handler seized a few ounces of a white, powdery substance in the glove compartment. It appeared to be cocaine. She looked like she had been beat up. Her make up tried to cover up a black eye and a bruised cheek. When the drugs were found, she started sobbing and started talking about Lopez. She was his girlfriend and was afraid for her life.”

  “Christmas came late this year!” exclaimed Nick. “This could be the break we’ve been hoping for. You and Pepe go right to the border and bring her back here to the conference room. Also, get the substance over to the lab right away with a priority designation. I want confirmation that it’s cocaine. A few ounces is enough for possession for sale. It can be the leverage we need to turn her. Meanwhile, I’ll do some checking into the witness protection program. We have to move fast. I don’t want her name in any arrest records yet. We can’t have the arrest leaked back to the cartel. Great work Ana!”

  Nick phoned the Chief of
the State Attorney Criminal Division to let her know what was going on. She gave Nick advance approval to tap into California’s Witness Relocation and Assistance Program for reimbursement for any hotel and living expenses for Felicia while they worked on turning her and getting her into the federal Witness Security Program, known as WITSEC. Nick pulled the state witness protection agreement from a secure law enforcement website in case Felicia agreed to cooperate. Nick then called his old friend, Ted Simpson, now a successful criminal defense attorney. Ted had been a career San Diego Deputy District Attorney until he changed sides a few years back. Ted was doing very well in private practice, competent and trusted by his former prosecutor colleagues. “Ted, this is Nick Drummond. I’m working on a complex money laundering case involving the Baja Norte Familia. We may have a person who will turn state’s evidence. We’ll know within a couple of days. The person may need representation to work out a cooperating informant agreement. Are you available the next couple of days?”

  “You sly codger, you won’t even say if it’s a female or male. I’m around, just let me know.”

  “Thanks Ted, my paranoia has become a routine practice. You’ll know if it’s a female or male when the time comes.”

  Nick’s next call was to Mario. He filled Mario in about Felicia and asked him to do a background check on her and have the information on his desk in 30 minutes. Thirty-five minutes later, Mario rushed in and dropped a small pile of papers on Nick’s desk.

  “She has some criminal contacts, nothing too serious. A finding as a juvenile for receiving stolen property, the successful completion of a drug diversion program for possession of cocaine when she was 19, and she’s still on probation for a driving under the influence conviction. Her criminal records and DMV records show that she lived at a residence in Chula Vista until two years ago. The residence is owned by a Rosa Salas. Up until six months ago, she lived in an apartment in Chula Vista. There’s no new address. She graduated from Southwest Junior College while she was living in Chula Vista.”

  “Thanks Mario. It looks like Felicia had something going for her, some stability, before she took up with her cartel abuser boyfriend. We can probably use that.”

  Right after Mario left Nick’s office, Pepe came in. “No problems picking her up Nick. Ana developed a rapport with her. They’re in the conference room.”

  Nick filled in Pepe about Felicia’s background. “This is how we’ll play it Pepe. Go back in there and have Ana read Felicia her rights. Here’s a written waiver of her rights for her to initial and sign. Once that is done, let me know, and I’ll come in. I will lean on her some. You two get to be the good cops. Just follow my lead. If she is willing to cooperate, we will put her up in a hotel. We’ll have a female agent with her 24-7. We can debrief her fully over the next couple of days.”

  Pepe left and Nick amused himself by shooting a nerf ball into a small basketball hoop attached to his waste basket. He kept backing up each time he made a basket. He was just at his office’s three point line when Pepe came back in, gave him the waiver, and said, “Signed, sealed and delivered Boss man.”

  As Nick entered the conference room, he took in Felicia, who was sitting at the table facing the door. She was attractive, with long brown hair, too much make-up that was smeared by tears, and a tight fitting blouse. Nick sat across from her. Nick opened the file he had brought with him and pretended to study the papers inside. He let a couple of minutes go by and said, staring into her eyes, “You’re in quite a bit of trouble young lady.” Felicia started to cry. Nick let her cry awhile before saying, “It’s not just the cocaine we found in your car that exposes you to possession for sale charges, but also you’re hanging out with a crowd where there’s a good chance you’ll end up dead. We can help you and protect you. You can get your life back.”

  “How?” sniffed Felicia.

  Nick responded, his voice softening some, “If we charge you in state court, you’re looking at a four year maximum term—in federal court it could be up to 10 years. If you fully cooperate and tell us the entire truth about your boyfriend and the cartel, we can put you in a witness protection program and you can start a new life.”

  “You’re loco. He will kill me. You don’t know what he’s like. He, at the very least, will beat me badly for leaving him and crossing the border.”

  Nick replied, “I don’t doubt for a moment that he will beat you. It looks like he already has knocked you around. Do you want to keep living like that?”

  “No, but I can’t get away from him and his cartel. My life is over.”

  “No, it’s not Felicia,” soothed Nick. “The federal witness program can give you a new identity. We can move you out of state. I know you’re smart. You graduated from Southwest College. You have a future. You just need the courage to grab it and hold on to it.”

  “He’ll follow me anywhere I go. He looks at me as his personal property. He even made me tattoo his name on my breast. See!” said Felicia. She pulled down the left side of her blouse, revealing the name Luis, with a small heart and arrow through it on her left breast, above her nipple. “Luis told me that if I ever leave him, that arrow will go through my real heart.”

  “Luis is a bastard and a bully. You don’t have to worry about him anymore, if you just cooperate with us,” said Nick.

  Ana said, after brushing Felicia’s hair off of her face, and drying her tears with a tissue, “We have used the witness protection program many times before. You’ll be safe.”

  Felicia was quiet for a minute. “All right. What do you want me to tell you?”

  “Just the truth. Let’s start with how you met Luis and when you started living with him,” replied Nick.

  “We met at Opening Day of the Del Mar races, last July. I was wearing a new dress, and a fabulous black, broad brim straw hat, with red and orange bougainvillea interwoven on top. Luis came up to me in this perfectly tailored silk suit and thousand dollar shoes, and told me that bougainvillea was his favorite flower. It reminded him of where he grew up in Cuernavaca. He told me the buildings around the town square were shrouded in bougainvillea. He invited me to the turf club for a few drinks. Later we went back to his condo on Coronado Cay that had a view of South Bay and the Coronado Bridge. He literally swept me off my feet. We were living together two weeks later.”

  “Where was that?” asked Pepe.

  “In a compound just north of Rosarito Beach, in the hills. It’s about a 30 minute drive to the border. Luis has a seven bedroom, eight bath house, with a movie projection room in the basement. There are a couple of cottages on the grounds where his bodyguards stay.”

  “Tell us about the security at the compound,” said Nick.

  “The compound is surrounded by an eight-foot wall, with jagged glass cemented to the top. There’s a guardhouse at the front entrance with a gate that only opens by a card key or by the guard. At all times there are four armed guards on the premises. There are motion detectors throughout the grounds and surveillance cameras outside all doors and large windows. I first thought it was cool, like a movie. As time went on and after I had to stay in the compound day after day, it felt more like a fancy prison.”

  “Did people come over? Were there dinner parties?” asked Ana.

  I saw a number of guys over and over, all young Hispanics, except a few times I saw a white guy. I also saw two older Hispanic men, one, who even Luis deferred to. I was surprised, I thought that Luis was the cock of the walk.”

  “Let me show you some pictures of people. Tell me if you recognize anyone,” requested Pepe. Pepe started with Sergio Bustamente, a cartel enforcer who was seen with Luis in Yaak, Montana, at the border.

  “Yeah, I know him. That’s Sergio. He’s one of the guys who was at the compound many times.”

  “What about this guy?” Pepe said, showing her a picture of Rael Trujillo-Sanchez, the lieutenant in charge of enforcement for the cartel.

>   “He was one of the older guys I saw several times. Sergio escorted him. I’ll never forget that ugly scar that ran down the right side of his face.” Next, Pepe showed her a photo of Mateo Gomez-Encinas, a silver haired gentleman, who looked like he came right out of a high priced tequila ad. Encinas was the head of the cartel, and looked like the last person who would run a ruthless drug smuggling and human trafficking cartel. “I saw him a few times. He was the older gentleman who even Luis deferred to. He attended a dinner party that Luis and I gave at the compound. Luis spared no expense. Jumbo fresh shrimp, caviar, rib-eye steaks, spinach soufflé, and the most delicious flan I’ve ever tasted. The men after dinner went into the study for cigars and liquor.”

  “Who else was at that dinner?” interjected Nick.

  “The older guy with the scar, a white guy who looked bookish, another Hispanic man who said he lived in Rancho Santa Fe, and a man with a different last name. I couldn’t figure out his ethnic background.”

  The case was flying through Nick’s mind. He took Pepe aside and told him to show her photos of Anthony Sakia, as well as Hector Morales, who owned L&M Freight and Recycle Yard, and accountant Lester Sendow. Pepe showed Felicia a photo of each in turn, and she identified each one as being at that dinner party.

  “When was that dinner party?” asked Nick.

  “It was on October 28th. I remember that because it was my aunt’s birthday who raised me.”

  “Is that Aunt Rosa who lives in Chula Vista?”

  “How do you know that Mr. Drummond?”

  “We’re thorough, we check everything out. Just like we’ll check out everything you say to make sure you’re telling the truth.”

  “It sounds like you spent most of your time at the compound. Did you ever get to go out?” asked Ana.