Sunday, November 9, 2014
Monday, Monday....(Blogophilia 38.7)
Can’t trust that day…
7:00 AM and the bullpen was a beehive of activity. Weak sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to invigorate everyone. Phones ringing and message systems pinging, it was a far cry from the late Saturday night, where it was a silent as a funeral in a hard Kentucky rain. The captain was true to his word and left him alone Sunday to get some sleep. He was back with a clear mind a cup of extra strong coffee. Jackson had beaten him in and waved when he cleared the hallway.
“Yo! Wally!” Jackson called out. “Latent Prints got a hit on the victim yesterday.”
“Nice way to start the day.” Sitting down, Murray took a sip out of the cup and winced. He opened the notebook to a clean page.
“Let me have it.”
“Diego Rodriguez Aguirre, 23, a Salvadoran National here illegally. Has convictions for weapons and narcotics possession. Last arrest was for loitering with intent on Jimmy Carter in January. FTA warrant out of Dekalb for a misdemeanor assault. Last known address was a dump in Chamblee. Does have a prior address at the Graves, though.”
Murray scratched at his ear as he listed the information. It was too early to hear this jackass bray, even though what he was saying was good. Jackson pulled out another piece of paper and continued.
“Get this. The Emergency Contact Probation has on file is a Sister, Maria Aguirre Torres. The phone number listed comes back disconnected. But her last known address is in the complex in Doraville that Witch Hazel showed in her scare piece. “
Eyes rising at the last statement, Murray kept writing the notes.
“That’s interesting. We’ll go there this afternoon. Meanwhile, You, me and the Cap are gonna hang here with Artie for a bit.” Jackson’s face crinkled as if he had opened a sewer.
Turning back a couple of pages, Murray continued.
“I did catch him over the weekend for a quick briefing, though. Their first victim happened back in November. Female, young and with the Tattoo. Found dumped on the side of Pleasantdale right at the county line. One GSW upper torso. She was unidentified for quite a while like our hooker, apparently never got into the system. They now have a tentative ID, waiting on notification before releasing.”
Second victim was in April. Female with the Tattoo, but they got lucky with her. She had a shoplifting arrest out of Cobb County. Her name was Felicia Nagodoches, 18 and a Salvadoran. She was also found on Pleasantdale, but in one of the complexes a little further down toward Tucker.”
“The third victim was found Wednesday in Doraville. He’s male. They don’t have an official ID on him yet, so he may be a recent arrival that hasn’t had a chance to get into the system.”
Murray drained his cup.
“When all the tattoos matched, the Homicide commander called for the cavalry in the form of Artie. When he saw the second girl’s record, Artie got smart and called the gang unit out in Cobb and hit pay dirt. Bella Paloma is a group from a village in the mountains northeast of San Salvador. They began showing up in Cobb about four years ago. They are primarily into the prostitution, specializing in young girls. Artie may have a bit more info for us on this one. The meeting is at 9:30, so I’m guess we’ll hit the phones from now until then. Do we have an ETA on the autopsy?”
Jackson clicked a couple keys and turned his head towards his screen. “Not yet, but Captain put a bug in the ME’s office to make it priority. Did we have any other body calls this weekend?”
“Only an old lady found in her living room over in Snellville. Looks natural, so Diego will probably go first at the table. Maybe a usable slug will turn up.”
“We can only hope.” And with that, Jackson picked up his phone and called up to Crime Scene to see if their report was finished.
Murray decided to spend a couple of minutes putting his mind to rest. He quickly typed the name into the statewide database and hit enter before he could stop himself. A couple of seconds later, the record for Jeremy Allen came up. He was now 27. The Murder and Arson charges didn’t show here because they had been handled in Juvenile Court. But there was a reference listed. He apparently was released about six months ago from Regional Hospital. A couple of minor scrapes since then. Last known address was an apartment in Buckhead. How could he afford that?
He then pulled up the registration on the Toyota, a 1996, Beige Camry that was indeed registered to Jeremy Allen. A couple of parking tickets and one speeding ticket associated with it. Surprised there wasn’t a brawl for that, given his love for the Police. All the tickets were from earlier than any of the current events, so it may have just been a coincidence he was there. Too early to tell, though. We’ll just file this and see if any other connections come up.
He then typed in Bella Paloma. There was a bit more information out there since he had looked during the Hooker’s murder, mostly confirming Artie Gomez’s take. Diego’s name showed up about half way down the report. Apparently, he was a mid level runner, coordinating the pickup and drop off of girls from one location to another.
But he wasn’t the actual pimp. That was a fellow with the street name of El Potro. He was still based in El Salvador and would only show up in Atlanta when it was time to collect the money. He was described as a short, stocky man that liked Stetson hats and fancy boots. He would fly in and Diego would be in charge of getting him from place to place.
The girls were mostly the daughters of people who owed El Potro money. They were given the choice: the girls or their lives. And more than once, they parents were killed anyway once the girls were gone, so there wouldn’t be anything for them to across the miles to return to.
Murray began to daydream across the miles to the village these folks were escaping from. They were so far from home, yet so firmly tied there through the threat of violence.
“Murray. It’s time.”
Captain’s voice broke the spell. Maybe he can focus on something else.
Topic-Dave Rader (Whatever happened to him?)
Pic Guesses: Long and winding road. Miles and miles, Country roads, Across the meadow, Homeward bound.