Path to Justice

by Jim Dutton

  “I’d go shopping with bodyguard escorts in Ensenada and Rosarito Beach. A few times we went to Luis’ condo in the Coronado Cays, and once we went to a warehouse on a ranch in Otay Mesa. Luis showed me a few classic cars he had stored there.”

  “Was there anything else in the warehouse?” asked Nick.

  “I don’t know. The section with the classic cars was closed off from the rest of the warehouse, which seemed quite a bit bigger. A couple of guards were there.”

  “Do you think you could show us where the warehouse is Felicia?” asked Pepe.

  “Maybe. It was in Otay Mesa, off Highway 90. If we drove around, I might be able to find it. It was isolated, on the crest of a hill.”

  “What about the condo in Coronado Cays? Could you show us where that is?” asked Nick.

  “That’s no problem. I was there four or five times. It was at the end of a street, by a small park.”

  “Great. You can show Ana and Pepe the condo and warehouse tomorrow. It’s getting late. We’ll set you up in a hotel and have a female agent stay with you. I’ll see you again tomorrow afternoon after you’ve had a chance to drive around.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Nick saw his daughter’s play-off soccer game in the morning. Gabriella played well, but the team lost, 3-2, on a late goal. It was a corner kick that their star player headed into the goal. There was a team lunch after the game. Nick sat next to Judy and they actually got along. No arguments. No, “Where were you?” No, “You should’ve done this.” Nick chalked the lunch up as progress with his estranged wife. Nick even dared a kiss on her cheek when he left. Judy smiled when he gave her the soft peck. Nick drove to the office in good humor.

  Just after Nick arrived, Pepe came in and told him about the morning drive with Felicia. There was no problem finding Luis’ condo in Coronado Cay. A black BMW was parked in the driveway. The team would run the plate and check real property records for the title to the condo.

  Finding the warehouse in the Otay Mesa area had been much more difficult. They drove around in an old pickup truck that had been seized as part of a drug bust. They had needed a vehicle that wouldn’t shout, “standard government issue”. They drove east on Highway 905 to Alta Road, then to Otay Mesa Road. The side streets off Otay Mesa Road didn’t pan out. Pepe got to the end of Otay Mesa Road, near where the Donovan Correctional Facility was located, when they saw a small oil tanker truck head north towards the prison. Pepe thought this was strange, so he followed it on a hunch. It drove past the prison to McGuire Canyon Road and took a left. A few ranches were along that road but Pepe couldn’t see any warehouses. It was remote, virtually no through traffic. Pepe hung back and watched the tanker truck turn onto a gravel road. It was marked private. At the top of the road, at the crest of the hill, you could see a large oak tree and the front of a metal siding building.

  Felicia said, “That’s it. I remember the oak tree. Once you go up the gravel road, you’ll be able to see a small ranch house to the back right of the property and the rest of the warehouse.”

  Pepe told Nick he decided to walk up the gravel road and pretend he was hiking in the area. He had Ana drive the pickup a mile or so back down the road to the last crossroads. He didn’t want to arouse any suspicion if someone drove down the private road and saw a truck parked where it intersected with McGuire Canyon Road. Luckily, Pepe was wearing his standard weekend office attire, jeans, a t-shirt and tennis shoes. He grabbed a walking stick and started up the gravel road. He stopped half-way up the road, studying the layout at the top of the hill. He could see the small ranch house and got a better view of the warehouse building. Pepe heard an engine fire up behind the warehouse. He was stuck in plain view as a Range Rover rushed down the hill. Pepe figured the best defense was a good offense and waved for the car to stop. The car pulled right in front of Pepe, cutting him off. Three Hispanics were in the car. The driver shouted to him, “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  Pepe replied, “I’m glad you stopped. I’m trying to find the Otay River. I looked at a map before I started hiking and I thought it…”

  The driver angrily interjected, “I don’t give a shit what you think, you’re on private property! Can’t you read English? There are no trespass and private property signs at the bottom of the gravel road.”

  “I’m sorry. I was cutting across country and just hit on the gravel road about 100 yards below. I didn’t see any signs.”

  “Turn around now. Get your ass out of here.”

  “Will do, Sir.” Pepe turned and started jogging down the road, but not before he had memorized the license plate and the three faces. Once at McGuire Road and out of any possible eyesight of the ranch, he called Ana and told her to stay put, he’d walk back to the crossroads.

  “Good work Pepe. But watch the cowboy stuff—walking up that gravel road with no back-up. Also, you could have tipped them off,” said Nick.

  “You know me boss, I can talk my way out of anything.”

  “You keep pulling it off until you don’t.”

  Nick continued, “I’m going to phone a buddy at DoD and call in a favor. See if they have a satellite in the area to take photos of the warehouse. Might catch a break and capture them unloading the oil truck. This has to be a main way that the cartel is moving their product. Go on line and get the coordinates of the warehouse. I’ll email you my buddy’s contact information. This has to get done ASAP.”

  Nick made the call and his buddy told him, “You’re in luck, we have a satellite going over that area in 15 minutes. Send me the coordinates. Remember the time you got me out of a bind in college? We’re now more than even. You’ve been holding it over me for 35 years.”

  “You were pretty drunk, and streaking a sorority wouldn’t have looked good on your resume. You’re fortunate there were no cell phones and Facebook back then.”

  “Okay Nick, that’s the last I want to hear about it.”

  “Mums the word. Thanks for the satellite help.” After emailing Pepe, Nick went to the conference room where Felicia and Ana were waiting.

  Nick and Ana spent a few hours going back over everything with Felicia, probing for more information. It turned out Felicia had seen several other things of interest at the Rosarito Beach compound. Twice a Mexican company oil truck had been parked by the garage. Additionally, once when Felicia was looking around the garage for a stray cat, she saw a large bullet beside a couple of crates stacked up at the far end of the garage. She described the bullet as being about six inches long, mostly gold in color, except the top third was copper with a black tip.

  Ana asked, “How could you remember it so well?”

  “It was by far the biggest bullet I had ever seen. I picked it up and looked at it carefully. I even asked Luis about it. He said, ‘It must be some old bullet from the prior owners.’” Felicia told Nick and Ana, “It didn’t look old to me, it was shiny and clean. The next day the crates were gone.” She had gone back into the garage to see what was inside the crates, even though Luis had reminded her that she was never to go inside the garage.

  Ana whispered into Nick’s ear, “That bullet, with the black tip, matches the description of an armor piercing, 50 caliber round.”

  “I know Ana. Heaven help us if the Familia starts shooting those bullets around. A 50 caliber bullet has five times the muzzle energy of a standard bullet shot from a hunter’s rifle.”

  The last gem they gleaned out of Felicia was about a late evening conversation she had with Luis at the compound. Luis was at the computer looking at tidal charts for the coast, north of San Diego. He asked her, “Have you ever been to any beaches in the Encinitas area, about 20 miles north of San Diego?”

  She replied, “Just once. My college friends had a late night kegger and bonfire.” Luis got very interested, wondering what time it was that they were there and if there were any other people on the beach. Felicia told him, “N
o, it was just us. It was after midnight and in winter time, nobody was around.”

  Nick took Ana aside, “The Familia could be moving drugs across the border at night by small boats. We need to check with the Coast Guard.”

  After a few hours of friendly grilling, Felicia seemed tired and began to lose focus. “Felicia, there’s one more thing we need to talk about before you get dinner and go back to the hotel. You’ve been very helpful. We need to move on to the next step, your protection. I’ll call in a defense attorney tomorrow and we’ll work out an agreement for you to continue to cooperate, and to testify if needed. I checked with the federal authorities about getting you into the federal witness protection program. This will allow us to move you out of state, far away from La Familia. You’ll get a brand new identity, a new social security card, help with employment or school, and living expenses. It’s completely voluntary. You can leave the program at anytime. However, it’s not advisable to leave until the targets are convicted and locked up.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “It could be up to two years, maybe more. It’s rough, but at least you’ll be safe and have a future. Also, while you’re in the program, you can’t have any personal or electronic contact with friends and family members. There can be nothing to connect you to your new identity and where you are living.”

  “You expect me to cut off all my friends and family, especially my aunt, who raised me like a mother?”

  “That’s the way it has to be Felicia. We can be present when you make a call to your aunt and tell her you’re safe, that you just need to get away. Also, you should think about what part of the country you want to resettle in. We have some ideas, but we want your input.”

  Ana put Felicia’s hand in hers and softly spoke, “It’s so hard Felicia, but you’re not alone in this. We’ll be in touch and the U.S. Marshal’s Office will always be there. I know a couple of years feels like forever. But after that you have all your life ahead of you, 50 to 60 years, a husband, kids, grandkids. You need to be strong.”

  A female agent came in to take Felicia to dinner and back to the hotel. Ana and Nick went to his office. Once the door was closed, Ana said, “I hope you didn’t get too turned on when Felicia flashed her breast tattoo yesterday.”

  “What’s that? I must have missed it.”

  “Missed it Nick? I saw your eyes glued to the target.”

  “Well, Ana, as you know, I pride myself in being able to keep my focus, even under the most trying conditions.”

  “Trying conditions? You should have to give back some salary for that extra benefit.”

  “Ana, I only have eyes for you.”

  “Is that why you’ve treated me like an ordinary colleague the last few weeks?”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve been thinking about you a lot. This is all new to me. It’s difficult for me to sort it all out. I didn’t take that night lightly. Part of me wants to spend every night with you and part of me hasn’t given up on my marriage with Judy. Let’s go out for drinks next week and talk about it. Now is not a good time.”

  “So Nick, will it ever be a good time? Are you just kicking the can down the road?”

  “No, I just want to talk about it in a more relaxed environment? Can we get back to the case for now?”

  “Ana, we need to get out a state and federal law enforcement bulletin that the Baja Norte Familia cartel appears to have 50 caliber weapons and ammunition. Please have Pepe talk to his Chief in Sacramento for his approval to transmit it in electronic form under California Department of Justice letterhead. I want to review the wording of the bulletin before it goes out. We want to make sure it doesn’t shed any suspicion onto Felicia.”

  Ana replied, “I just hope that none of the Familia weapons are traced back to the ATF operation a few years back.”

  ATF ran an undercover operation, Fast and Furious, out of their Phoenix Office, where undercover agents sold guns to legal purchasers who were suspected of being “straw buyers” for criminals on both sides of the border. The operation was intended to ferret out criminal conspiracies to purchase guns by authorized buyers who turned around and sold them illegally to criminals. Many of these guns were trafficked south of the border to the Mexican drug cartels. Some of the guns used in this sting operation were later recovered in Mexico at scenes of cartel assaults. It was reported that even a couple of 50 caliber machine guns were sold. It was a public relations nightmare.

  “I remember a local U. S. Representative who had a field day questioning ATF representatives at a congressional hearing,” said Nick.

  “Not a red-letter day for the good guys,” replied Ana.

  “I’m going to check to see if any satellite photos came through of the warehouse in Otay Mesa. This could take a few minutes, I have to navigate a series of Department of Defense passwords on my computer. It goes through the highest level of security. My computer is the only one which is set up for this protocol in the building.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me memorizing your digit typing sequence from across the room. I’ll get us some coffee. Still take it black like the color of your heart?”

  “Play nice.” After Nick spent a few minutes cursing the computer and the various passwords, he was able to pull up a series of 20 shots, taken over several seconds. The photos matched up with the Google Earth photos of the property. They showed two men unloading large bags from the back of an oil tanker. In at least one photo, Nick could make out the identification number of the truck. Nick whooped and hollered.

  Ana rushed in, “What did I miss?”

  “Look at these photos, we got them!”

  Ana replied, “It’s amazing how close the satellite photos can bring things up from hundreds of miles above the earth.”

  “It’s not for me to question how miracles occur, just reap the benefits of our good fortune.”

  “Okay old man Moses, what now?”

  Nick replied, “Contact your DEA buddies in Mexico and see if they have anyone they can trust to discretely get us copies of the transportation logs for the past year of the Mexican company oil truck in the photos. I don’t want to go through the Mutual Legal Assistance Treaty(MLAT) process. It’s too slow and I don’t trust the system, too many opportunities for leaks. A MLAT request will have to go out of main justice in Washington D.C., then go to their counterpart in the Attorney General’s Office in Mexico and be overseen by the Mexican courts. No thanks.”

  “While you get that rolling Ana, I’ll talk to the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of California for approval to get Felicia into the federal WITSEC Program. I want to see how fast they can get the U.S. Marshal’s Office up to speed.”

  The federal witness protection program has done an incredible job protecting at risk witnesses since it was started in 1971 at the initiative of a United States Department of Justice attorney in the Organized Crime and Racketeering Section.

  Nick continued, “I also want to get Ted Simpson over here tomorrow afternoon to go over a cooperation agreement for Felicia. Ted and I have worked on a few of these in the past. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Anything else you want me to do, Nick?”

  “No, Ana, except could you come in tomorrow at about three to finalize things with Felicia? I know it’s a Sunday, but you have a great rapport with her.”

  “No problem Nick. The only living thing that I’ll be missing time with is my cat.”

  “Thanks Ana. At least a cat purrs. Tropical fish don’t say a damn thing.”

  The next day Nick filled Ted in about the case. Nick told Ted that Felicia was basically a good kid. As long as she fully cooperated and told the truth at all times, he wouldn’t charge her with possession of cocaine for sale, or anything else. But, she had to agree that the statute of limitations for charging any crime against her would be tolled until she completed the terms of the cooperation agr
eement. He also told Ted that Felicia had been tentatively accepted into the federal witness protection program. She could be moved out of state by the end of next week with new identification papers. Nick knew she was interested in a dental hygiene program. Rona, his paralegal, had found a good program in Charlotte, North Carolina. This would seem to be a good spot for Felicia, temperate weather and not located in a border state with Mexico.

  Ted spent an hour going over everything with Felicia. Ted entered Nick’s office with a grim smile. He said, “She isn’t too happy about it, but she’s so scared of Luis and the cartel that she will go along with it. It’s no surprise that she wants to be as far away from the cartel’s reach as possible. In her mind, that is Topeka, Kansas, which also has a good dental hygienist school.”

  Nick replied, “Topeka it is.” Nick clicking his coffee cup with Ted’s, and said, “To barbecue and the Kansas City Royals.”

  Nick prepared the cooperation agreement from one that he had used the year before. Nick and Ted went back into the conference room, and Felicia, Nick and Ted signed off on the agreement. After Ted left, Nick said, “Felicia, it’s a good time to call your aunt and tell her you’re safe and want to leave for awhile. You can tell her that living in Mexico was not a good idea, that you need a new start, that you have some money saved, that she shouldn’t worry about you, that you can’t talk to her for quite some time, but you’ll send her a letter now and then. Felicia, any of your letters have to go through the Marshal’s Office to ensure you’re not giving out any clues as to your location and new life.”

  Nick called in Pepe and told him the ground rules of the conversation between Felicia and her aunt. He was to help monitor it if she spoke Spanish and to not let her say anything about the witness protection program or where she was going.

  The conversation started with Felicia saying, “Tia, soy yo.” It ended in tears, but nothing was divulged that would jeopardize Felicia’s safety.

  During the phone call, Pepe turned to Ana and said, “Felicia’s aunt keeps on saying, ‘Where are you going? I need to see you. I will go with you.’”