Path to Revenge

By Jim Dutton

Path to Revenge, the second novel in Prosecutor Nick Drummond’s legal thriller trilogy, begins with Drummond facing a grand jury probe for murder for the death of a cartel chief. Drummond avoids indictment when the jury finds out that he was gravely wounded fending off cartel hitmen. After the near indictment, Drummond and task force membe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lettra Press LLC
• Release date: Dec 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781951559021

Jim Dutton

Jim Dutton was a career prosecutor in California. National television shows, 48 Hours, Cold Case, and Forensic Files have featured his murder trials. He prosecuted numerous child molestation and rape cases. He was the Chief of the California Attorney General's Money Laundering Program for twenty years and testified before the U.S. Congress several times on that subject. Jim was the representative for human trafficking for the San Diego-based California Attorney General's Office and incorporated a human traffi cking analysis in his Money Laundering Manual for law enforcement. Jim is an avid outdoorsman, photographer, and traveler. He has written numerous travel and legal articles over the years. He lives with his wife, two sons, and their incorrigible, skunk-seeking dog, Wylie Coyote, in Del Mar, California.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Nick and Ana had their legs outstretched in the exit row of the Alaska flight back to San Diego from Maui. Nick had foregone his usual Jack Daniels for a rum and tonic—to maintain an island ambience as long as possible. Their two-week vacation on Kaanapali Beach had rejuvenated Nick after his two-month trial against the heads of the Baja Norte Familia drug cartel. For those precious two weeks, he was able to shut out everything about the case—all the hard work it had taken him and his task force to secure the convictions against the cartel chiefs, not to mention the personally devastating demise of one of the co-defendants, Luis Hernandez-Lopez, by his own hand. Nick closed his eyes and thought of the sea turtles he cavorted with while snorkeling off Black Rock.

Ana gently shook Nick awake and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Back to reality. We’re about to land. Have I told you how much I love you? I could’ve stayed in paradise with you for another month, another year.

I was so close to calling in and saying we’re staying for another week. But, the sentencing is coming up and there are other things to take care of. I’m the lucky man who knows you love me.

Nick reached for his phone in his stark, one-bedroom apartment in Pacific Beach. Who’s calling at this ungodly hour?

Nick, it’s me, Pepe. We need to talk.

I missed you, too, Pepe, but can’t it wait? I just flew in last night.

Bad news can’t wait. How about breakfast in an hour at our favorite diner? You can say hello to Maggie. I’ll get us a table in the corner away from people.

Sure, but you’re making me nervous. See you there. Nick thought, It must be pretty bad—Pepe didn’t want to talk about it on the phone.

Nick walked into Shamrock’s and saw Maggie behind the cash register. Maggie ran around the counter and gave Nick a big hug. Haven’t seen you for a while. I began to wonder with all that publicity about you being a hero for shooting that scumbag drug dealer that maybe you didn’t have time for my diner anymore.

Bite your tongue lass. I always have time for my favorite hostess at my favorite Irish eatery. Grabbing his stomach with both hands, Nick continued, I have to keep my belly happy.

That I can do for you. Coffee is already at your table. Pepe got here a few minutes ago.

Nick walked towards Pepe looking at his face, trying to discern what was going on. Pepe looked distracted and way too solemn. Pepe, what’s so important to get me out of bed on my first day back?

"We can get to that. How was the trip? Did you run into a beautiful wahine who wanted to get to know me?"

The trip was great. Our room was on the fifth floor, overlooking the grounds, the beach, seven miles of ocean and the island of Lanai. We had pina coladas on the balcony every evening, watching the sun set over Lanai. For the first few days, we never left the room. Ana even followed the routines of yoga classes on the lawn below from our balcony.

That good? Now you’re making me jealous.

Nick’s demeanor changed. He became serious and sounded tentative. What’s going on? Just tell me. Don’t sugarcoat it.

It isn’t good. You know that asshole Deputy DA Devers? The one you don’t get along with who runs Internal Investigations. Our office had to give your shooting review over to the District Attorney’s Office to avoid any appearance of impropriety. Devers took the bit in his mouth and is charging forward. An old friend of mine, an investigator in Devers’ unit, told me on the QT that there’s a witness to the shooting.

A witness? How is that possible? There was no one in the alley except me and Luis.

An elderly lady from a couple of buildings down was looking out her window. She told the investigators that Luis had his hands over his head when he was shot. She didn’t see a gun in his hand. As soon as she saw the shooting and Luis fall, she turned from the window to find her building’s super. She didn’t see me come out of the back door of the Purple Flamingo after the shooting.

Shit! Maybe I should just give it up. She saw it right. I killed that miserable son-of-a-bitch in cold blood.

"Excuse me boss—don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. The only witness is a little old lady from a couple of buildings down. It happened so fast. She can’t be sure what she saw. Who knows what her eyesight is like? Don’t panic. We’ll get through it. You and I both know that Luis deserved to die."

You’re right. If anyone deserved to die, it was Luis. Ana almost died twice and Deputy Marshal Perkins did die from brain trauma and burns from the inferno that engulfed the safe house on his orders. Still, it wasn’t right for me to be Luis’ executioner.

Remember, we’re both committed to this. I put my ass on the line when I placed my throw down gun by Luis’ hand at the scene to make it look like self-defense. You come clean now and you and I’ll be sharing cells together.

I know there’s more than me at stake. I’d never front you out. But, if they decide to prosecute, I don’t know if I’ll fight it.

You’re talking crazy. You need some emotional support. Have you told Ana or Judy?

I’ve wanted to tell Ana. But, she’s an Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent through and through. She is about as flexible when it comes to right and wrong as a piece of titanium. Everything is black or white to her. I don’t think she could handle the fact that I shot Luis when he was surrendering to me. Judy would handle it better. She sees the various shades of grey in life. Maybe it’s because she has seen all types and circumstances as an emergency room nurse. But, I just don’t see how I can broach the topic to her. ‘Judy, I know we’ve been separated for two years and you want to get a divorce, but something came up at work that I need to talk to you about.’

Okay. I see your point. However, you need to get it together. My buddy tells me that Devers wants to push this to the grand jury as soon as possible while it’s still hot and before office politics can play a role in derailing it.

Look Pepe. And I mean this. If Devers takes it to the grand jury for a criminal indictment, I want you to stay out of it. I already feel bad that you laid it on the line for me with the gun. I don’t want you to get up on the stand and commit perjury before the grand jury.

No promises boss, either way. You could be looking at a murder indictment.

CHAPTER TWO

William Devers III sat at his mahogany desk looking at the photos of a crime scene spread out before him. He paid special attention to the 38 caliber handgun next to Luis Hernandez-Lopez’s lifeless body. He thought, Where did Luis get the handgun? He had just escaped from a courtroom only two miles away. I’ll have my investigators check all the pawn shops between the federal courthouse and the Purple Flamingo restaurant. Maybe a throw down gun?

Devers texted District Attorney Investigator Randall to come to his office. Devers had collected the photographs and had put them back in the locked filing cabinet when he heard a knock. Come in Randall.

Investigator Randall was tall and slender with thinning hair. He had been a detective with the San Diego Police Department for 15 years before joining the D.A.’s Office five years ago. He had an easy smile and generally got along with people. It was difficult for him to like Unit Chief Devers. Devers was aloof, commanding and bureaucratic. He always covered his backside. But, Randall had to admit that Devers was a good prosecutor—dogged, detail-orientated, and smart.

Don’t just stand there, sit down. I have a few things for you to do. Check all the pawnshops and any gun shops in a broad swath between the federal courthouse and the Purple Flamingo. I want to find out if there was any possible way that Hernandez-Lopez got the gun along the way. We have to consider the possibility that it was a ‘throw down’ gun. Also, find out everything you can about Drummond’s and Agent Cantana’s background. I want to know about any work-related discipline, how far back the two have worked together, and anything about their personal lives that could shed some light on this.

Chief, I’ve known Pepe for a while. Your barking up the wrong tree if you think Pepe used a ‘throw down’ gun to frame Hernandez-Lopez.

I don’t care what you think. Just do it. You can leave now.

Devers texted Marita Camacho. She knocked and walked in a few minutes later. Hello Marita. Can we be ready to go to the grand jury in a month on a murder indictment in the Drummond case?

That might be pushing it. There are quite a few loose-ends that the investigators are working on. I’ve just begun working on the jury instructions and the exhibits. But those will be finished in time.

This a real high profile case, going after a career prosecutor. You need to be on top of your game. I know you have only been a prosecutor for five years in our office and a few years in the Imperial County District Attorney’s Office. Are you up to the task? If not, I can get a more experienced deputy to second chair this case.

I’m on-board boss. Mrs. Delgado is believable and she clearly saw Hernandez-Lopez’ hands up, with no gun when he was shot. She has no axe to grind—just a bystander.

We need to move on this before the DA has second thoughts.

Has the DA or the Attorney General’s Office given you any push back on this?

Not much. The DA was concerned about the political ramifications. I had to convince her it was the right thing to do. As far as the AG, the DA told me that when she talked to Attorney General Hammond about it, Hammond seemed almost gleeful that we’re going after Drummond. Something about Drummond being a cowboy and a drunk. But the political winds can change. Especially when it sinks in that we’ll ask for a first degree murder indictment against a career prosecutor whom the press is still hailing as a hero.

Did you ever cross paths with Drummond?

A couple of times, years back. He’s a maverick—doesn’t think the rules apply to him. Too good to go through channels. I can picture him shooting Hernandez-Lopez like a junkyard dog in the alley.

Nick had been back from Hawaii for only a week, but it seemed like a month. It was an open secret among the legal community that Nick’s shooting was being reviewed by the DA’s Office. Nick hadn’t been sleeping well and was spending more time in the evenings with his old friend, Jack Daniels. He had only seen Ana once since their trip. He felt isolated. Pepe interrupted Nick’s silent reverie when he strolled into Nick’s office. You look terrible Nick.

Thanks. That cheers me up.

I’m afraid I’m not here to cheer you up. I spoke to my DA Investigator buddy and he told me they plan to impanel a special grand jury for the shooting. Devers is seeking a first degree murder indictment. It’s time for you to get an attorney. You can’t just sit on your hands and wait for the axe to fall. Think of Ana, your kids, your career. Time to get off your ass and fight this.

Okay. I’ll give Ted Simpson a call. He’s an old friend who used to be a prosecutor with the San Diego D.A.’s Office. He may have some ideas.

Promise me that you’ll give Ted a call today.

Yes, Mom. Now get out of here while I make the call.

Nick felt strange walking into a criminal defense attorney’s office as a potential client, even if it was Ted Simpson’s office. Ted and Nick had worked on cases together as prosecutors over the years. When Ted left to do criminal defense work, they had stayed in touch. Nick refused to brand Ted as a turncoat ex-prosecutor. Ted had helped Nick out in the drug cartel case by representing his protected witness, Felicia, in an agreement to give state’s evidence against her former boyfriend, cartel Lieutenant Luis Hernandez-Lopez. Felicia’s cooperation with law enforcement almost resulted in her dying on two occasions: Once from a motorcycle drive-by when she and ICE Agent Ana Schwartz were sprayed with bullets in front of Felicia’s aunt’s house in Chula Vista. And again, when Hernandez-Lopez had her Topeka, Kansas, safe house attacked by cartel members firing a rocket launcher and a 50 caliber machine gun. The attack leveled the house and resulted in Deputy Marshal Lily Perkins’ death from burns covering most of her body. The U.S. Marshal’s Office was still collecting evidence about the attack.

Ted greeted Nick in the reception area. Not the best of times. I’ll help you get through this.

Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.

Goes without saying. We go way back. Have a seat. I’ll close the door.

First time I’ve been inside your office. You actually look like a successful attorney.

I try to pull it off. My clients like the appearance of prosperity. I know you like to get right to it. Tell me what happened in the alley.

I’m on record about it. I gave a detailed statement to San Diego P.D. right after the shooting. Agent Cantana did as well. Here are copies of the transcripts of the statements and the autopsy report.

Ted read through the statements. He looked up at Nick, Seems cut and dried—self-defense. Hernandez-Lopez drew a gun and you shot him. Nice shooting by the way—a double tap to the heart. The statements are fine, but I need to hear it from you.

Sorry Ted. I won’t do that. I’m not saying anything more about it.

What’s going on here? You know that any conversations are protected by attorney-client privilege. I can’t be much help if you won’t talk to me. Are you telling me by your silence that it didn’t go down the way the statements portray it?

Counselor, you aren’t going to get me to talk about it. I’ll tell you what I’ve heard through the grapevine. An elderly woman, from a window a couple of buildings from the shooting, told DA investigators that Hernandez-Lopez’s hands were up, with no gun, when the shooting occurred. The shooter’s back was to her.

Oh, shit! I see why you came to me. If her story is true, how did the gun get by Lopez’ hand?

She doesn’t know. She turned away from the window just after the shooting to look for the building sup.

A pervasive silence filled the room. It may have been seconds or minutes later, when Ted spoke. Is Agent Cantana getting representation?

Leave Pepe out of this. He doesn’t need representation. This is on me.

Okay Nick. I’ll look into this. I’ll give the DDA who is handling the case a call. Isn’t it that asshole Devers?

We agree he’s an asshole. Don’t say hello for me.

CHAPTER THREE

Special Agent-in-Charge (SAC) Roger Poon of the U.S Marshal’s Office had pushed the investigation hard into the murder of Deputy Marshal Lily Perkins. He could not get rid of the image of Lily lying in the hospital bed, in a medically-induced coma with horrid burns to her face and arms. She fought valiantly for weeks but never came out of the coma. She was engaged to be married and had her entire life in front of her. SAC Poon thought, How could anyone fire three rockets into a small home on a quiet residential street and strafe it with machine gun fire? Lily saved protected witness Felicia’s life by shoving her into a tornado cellar, just after the machine gun fire started and just before the first rocket blast blew Lily into the backyard.

The FBI had analyzed blood from a drip trail a couple of blocks away where the shooters had torched the Humvee they had used as a firing platform. The DNA results showed the blood belonged to Raul Saladez-Montes, age twenty-three. The FBI lab analyst would testify that only one out of seven billion people have that specific DNA profile, seven billion being the approximate world population. Raul’s DNA had been entered into the United States Justice database when he was arrested on a felony drug distribution charge a few years earlier. That case, however, was dismissed when the key civilian witness disappeared.

A task force assigned to investigate Lily’s murder had combed through Topeka hotel records for Lorenzo Boleti, the alias used by Javier Esquel-Ranchez, a defense witness at the trial for now deceased defendant Hernandez-Lopez. Javier had rented a Volvo at the Topeka airport at the time of the safe house attack and matched the general description of the person ICE Agent Schwartz saw sitting in a car near the attacked home. Agent Schwartz was driving towards the safe house to meet with the protected witness at the time of the attack. She fired at the Humvee as she approached until she crashed into a pole in an attempt to avoid the 50 caliber machine gun bullets fired at her in response. One of her bullets must have hit Raul.

The task force discovered that Lorenzo Boleti had rented a suite at one of Topeka’s finest hotels the night before the attack. Room service had brought champagne to his suite. Lorenzo paid for everything in cash. The security man at the hotel entrance remembered Lorenzo walking into the lobby that night with a beautiful blonde in a striking dress because it was unusual for an aristocratic looking Latin man to be with a blonde at that hotel. The task force was attempting to track down the blonde.

Now, the investigation had slowed and SAC Poon was ready to accept prosecutor Drummond’s offer of assistance. Poon wrote a memo summarizing the Topeka investigation and emailed it, along with the DNA reports and additional crime scene reports, to the U.S Marshal’s Office in San Diego for Drummond to pick up. Poon did not want to email the material directly to Drummond because he did not know how secure it was. He trusted the encrypted, secure communication between Marshal’s Offices, only.

Nick, it’s Roger Poon calling. Congratulations again on the convictions and delivering ultimate justice to Luis. Your name is golden around here. The investigation of Lily’s murder has generated a few excellent leads, including a DNA match of the blood trail where the shooters torched the Humvee. But, the investigation has stalled. We need you and your team’s help to run down the shooters and tie in Javier Esquel-Ranchez to the attack.

I’ll do anything I can to help. They almost took out my agent and I saw Lily in the hospital. Getting started on this should take my mind off the grand jury inquiry into Luis’ shooting. The DA could present evidence at any time.

"What are you talking about? A grand jury on you? Are they nuts?’

I can’t talk about it. The whole world is a little nuts.

Okay. I understand. I’ve emailed the DNA results to our San Diego Office. I also sent a memo updating you about the investigation and some additional crime reports you don’t have. I’d appreciate it if you would pick it up. I’m paranoid about security, especially since the Baja Norte Familia orchestrated the Topeka attack from a San Diego jail cell and somehow found the safe house.

I know the feeling. You’re preaching to the choir. I’ll also try to figure out how La Familia found Felicia. I’ll keep you updated. I’ll personally pick up the documents.

Thanks Nick. I won’t take up any more of your time.

Sam Lenart sat at his desk at the U.S. Marshal’s Office playing video games. He was so bored. He wanted a line of cocaine so bad. He could not risk it at work. He had money now. A couple of months ago all his money was going up his nose and he was behind in rent for his two-bedroom house in National City. Money was still going up his nose, but he had more of it. A husky male voice had spoken to him on his cellphone six weeks ago. He told Sam he knew where he lived, the dumpy car he drove and where he worked. He asked Sam what the U.S. Marshal’s Office would think about a clerical employee’s affair with cocaine. The caller assured Sam need not worry about losing his job and could earn some large side money if he stayed on the lookout for any materials having to do with an attack on a house in Topeka and injuries to Deputy Marshal Lily Perkins. They agreed that Sam would put an old box on the porch swing in the front of his house if he had information for the caller. Sam got $5,000 upfront. It was left in a used McDonald’s bag on the swing. For each batch of information conveyed, more money. Sam felt uncomfortable about it, but rationalized he would just be giving over a report or two. He couldn’t lose his job.

Deputy Marshal Simmons walked up to Sam’s cubicle and dropped numerous pages on his desk. They were marked confidential. Stop with the video games and Xerox a copy of these materials for me. Put the originals in a sealed envelope for pick-up at the front desk by California Deputy Attorney General Drummond. Do it now.

Sam cursed himself for being caught playing video games. Yes, Sir. Right now, Sir. He grabbed the papers and trotted over to the Xerox machine. He noticed that the top page was a DNA lab report in Lily Perkins’ case. Sam began to sweat. He looked around. No one was paying attention to him. He put the machine on two Xerox copies instead of one. He grabbed a file folder and put the second copy inside. He labeled it DIET REGIMEN. No one could dispute that he needed to drop a few pounds.

Sam turned and started walking over to his desk when Deputy Simmons approached him. You have my copy?

Yes, yes… Sir. Here it is. The original is in the envelope.

What do you have in the file folder?

Sam thought he might faint. Blood drained from his face. He managed to say, Just some diet stuff, I’m going to take my lunch break. Need to chart calories.

Have a good lunch. Deputy Simmons walked away thinking, Sam looked jumpy. Maybe I was too curt with him about the video games. He seems like a nice young man. Just lazy.

Sam rushed home after work and did a line of cocaine. He felt better—more in control of his life. He moved the materials from the diet file into an envelope. He grabbed an old box from the garage, placed the envelope at the bottom, and put the box on the porch swing. Sam went back inside, thinking about how much extra money he would get.

CHAPTER FOUR

Javier Esquel-Ranchez sat in the office of his deceased friend’s hacienda above Rosarito Beach, Baja California Norte. His mentor and old family friend, Luis Hernandez-Lopez, had been shot down by prosecutor Drummond after Luis had escaped from custody during his trial. Javier had testified at trial for Luis, giving him an alibi for a drive-by shooting of Luis’ former girlfriend and star prosecution witness, Felicia. Luis’ and Javier’s families were two of the one-hundred families that controlled Mexican politics and economy. They grew up in villas in the same Guadalajara neighborhood, behind stone walls topped with broken glass. Luis’ family was involved in narcotics trafficking while Javier’s family was a step removed—finances and money laundering were his family’s forte. Javier looked up to Luis as an older brother. Luis would let Javier tag along on trips to the waterfall-fed swimming holes on the Santiago River, just outside of Guadalajara. They also went horseback riding through the agave fields. Luis would let Javier sip the tequila he bought at the local distilleries.

Javier was a niño bien. He did not want for anything growing up—the sole child of a very wealthy family. Javier enjoyed the private schools and excelled at team sports, especially soccer. The family went to Europe every summer, usually staying in Spain or Italy. Javier insisted on going to a public school for college, wanting to broaden his horizons. He graduated with honors in economics from the University of Mexico. After college, he owned a software start up in Guadalajara for several years. Guadalajara was gaining a reputation as Mexico’s Silicon Valley. Javier did very well when his company was bought out—putting millions of dollars in a Cayman Islands’ trust. He then gravitated to his childhood friend—Luis was living an exciting lifestyle, rolling in money. Javier’s parents were against him spending so much time with Luis knowing he was a lieutenant in the Baja Norte Familia cartel. Javier ignored his family’s entreaties and gradually became involved in the Familia’s money laundering operations. When Luis and the two other heads of the cartel, Mateo Gomez-Encinas and Rael Trujillo-Sanchez were arrested on Opening Day at the Del Mar racetrack the previous summer, Javier took over the day-to-day operations of the cartel. He still received instructions from Encinas, the head of the cartel, and from Sanchez, the chief of enforcement, from prison, but the routine operating decisions were left to him.

Encinas had approved Javier’s idea to expand the cartel operations into moving cocaine from South America. Javier had contacts in Peru from his junior year, study-abroad program at the University of Peru in Lima. Javier had not done much studying, but he did party a lot and got to know the sons and daughters of the ruling class of Peru. Javier believed it was time to cut back on marijuana trafficking in the States because of the legalization trend. Cocaine would fill the distribution vacuum. Javier planned to go to Peru to reconnect with college friends who were associated with cocaine trafficking and money laundering.

Javier missed Luis. The manner of Luis’ death angered him. The media portrayed it as self-defense when Drummond shot Luis as Luis drew a gun. The official version had a 38 caliber handgun next to Luis’ right hand after he collapsed in an alley. Javier thought, "Where did he get the gun? He had only escaped from the courthouse a half-hour before and nobody in the cartel knew about the escape at the time. Guns had been planted by law enforcement in Mexico and Javier was sure it happened in the United States as well.

A few days later, Javier heard the roar of a Harley coming up the winding road to Luis’s compound. It had to be Jesus, a loyal cartel soldier whose daytime job was a bartender in San Ysidro. Jesus had brought Javier the kites (prison notes) between Luis and Luis’ cousin, Jaime Hernandez-Salgado. Luis had instructed Javier to find and eliminate his witness-protected former girlfriend Felicia in a spectacular fashion. After finding out that Felicia attended a dental hygienist school in Topeka, Kansas, Javier arranged for an assault team to fire rockets and 50 caliber bullets into Felicia’s safe house. The house was destroyed, the deputy marshal eventually died, but Felicia had survived. The assault team consisted of two young cartel soldiers, Refugio and Raul, and an experienced driver, Felipe. Javier had watched the assault. He was parked in a rental Volvo a block from the safe house. He would have sworn on his abuela’s grave that no one could have survived the attack. But, Felicia had—unfinished business.

Javier called downstairs, Send Jesus up. Javier heard Jesus’ heavy footsteps as he climbed the stairs.

Pato, I got something you’re going to want to see. That weasel plant in the U.S. Marshal’s Office paid off. Javier didn’t mind being called Pato—it was a childhood name given to him by Luis. It meant duck in English. Luis branded him with that name when he was only eight because Javier had tried to stop the older kids from shooting a flock of ducks on Lake Chapala with pellet guns. Javier had always had a soft spot for animals. Luis never did. He hadn’t had a soft spot for anyone except maybe Pato.

Javier opened up the envelope and read through the pages quickly, but carefully. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he read. Damn it, he thought. I was careless to get tracked to the rental car—to be on the car rental video the night of the safe house attack. They even found the hotel I stayed at. I should never have signed the register with the same alias. There goes my lawyer alter ego, Lorenzo. It was a good run and I bedded a number of gringas pretending to be a sophisticated attorney and businessman.

Jesus saw the consternation on Pato’s face. What are we going to do?

The first thing Jesus—we have to tie up some loose ends. They have identified Raul by a DNA analysis of his blood from being shot by ICE agent Schwartz at the scene. That bitch unloaded her clip before crashing into a pole just a few feet from where I was parked.

Are you ‘green lighting’ Raul?

I want Raul and Refugio to disappear. They’re joined at the hip. They have only been with us for a couple of years. If the feds arrest Raul, Refugio will be next. The feds can offer either one of them a sweet deal to go after the person who called the shots. Felipe, the driver, I’m not worried about. He has served Luis’ family since before I was born. He is like you—he would never turn on the cartel. Luis’ cousin, the owner of the Purple Flamingo, I have to think about. He didn’t talk to the feds when they squeezed him about the kite the guard found under the restroom sink in the prison.

I’ll work on it. Anybody else we should be worried about?

"Mary Ellen, the young lady I spent such a pleasant evening with in my hotel room the night before the attack, was seen with me at the hotel. She hasn’t been identified and I don’t think I told her anything