Above the Law (49 page)

A: “Late that night.”

Q: “Normally, when would you find out?”

A: “Well in advance. Always long before the day or night of. Local law-enforcement agencies have to be involved. They have information that’s invaluable. Plus it’s their territory. You don’t go into someone else’s territory without letting them know about it.”

Q: “How did you feel about that?”

A: “Terrible. Not from a personal point of view—I don’t have an ego when it comes to capturing criminals, I’m not looking for credit. But from a professional point of view, it’s wrong. People can get hurt if they don’t know what’s going on. Which is what happened in this case.”

Q: “Once you were informed of the raid, what was your assignment, Sheriff?”

A: “I didn’t have one. I was specifically instructed not to participate. My deputy and I were made to stand aside.”

Q: “So even after you were notified that the raid was going to take place, you were not allowed to be part of it. Even though it was taking place in your jurisdiction.”

A: “This is correct.”

Q: “Did you have any role at all?”

A: “No. Jerome grudgingly allowed me and my deputy to accompany the DEA team, but we were consigned to the bull pen for the actual raid: We were not allowed to participate.”

Q: “Did you ask to?”

A: “Of course. That’s our job.”

Q: “And the answer was?”

A: “We weren’t wanted, or needed.”

Q: “So where were you physically, when the raid took place?”

A: “On a hill, overlooking the compound.”

I walked to one of ray exhibits, a large aerial map of the area that was mounted on an easel, positioned so that the jury could easily see it.

Q: “Is this where you were? You and your deputy?” I pointed to the hill, which was far from the main raiding area.

A: “Yes.”

Q: “How far away is that, approximately?”

A: “A quarter of a mile away.”

Q: “How many years have you been in law enforcement, Sheriff Miller?”

A: “Between my years with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the Muir County Sheriff’s Office, just under fifty years.”

Q: “And has this ever happened to you before? Getting shut out this way?”

A: “Never. In all that time, it’s never happened.”

I looked at the jury. They were paying close attention. Tom Miller is the most highly respected man in this county. Jerome had picked the wrong man to disrespect, and he was going to pay for it, beyond the physical ramifications of his actions.

Q: “What did you think of Special Agent Jerome’s strategy and tactics?”

A: “Highly unprofessional, reckless, and dangerous. Frightening.”

Q: “Would you explain to the jury why you think that?”

A: “Yes. There was supposed to be a transfer of money for drugs. A huge amount of money, a huge amount of drugs. That’s why this raid was so important. Not only to capture the drug dealers involved, including but not limited to Reynaldo Juarez, but to seize the drugs. That was the foundation of the warrant that Mr. Jerome obtained.”

Q: “Did that happen?”

A: “No.”

Q: “Why not?”

A: “Because the airplanes carrying the money and the drugs couldn’t fly up to Muir County. There was too much fog that night, further down south.”

Q: “So the raid was aborted.”

A: “No.”

Q: “Why not, if the objective was the bust?”

A: “Because Agent Jerome wanted to get Reynaldo Juarez, with or without the physical evidence, or the probable cause.”

Q: “In your almost fifty years of law enforcement, is that common?”

A: “Absolutely not. It’s almost unheard of.”

Q: “So to the best of your knowledge, Agent Jerome went against normal procedures and regulations when he authorized this raid to go on.”

A: “Without question.”

Q: “Did you feel that Agent Jerome had a personal vendetta against Reynaldo Juarez? Beyond the fact that Juarez was a drug dealer?”

John Q. got to his feet for that one. “Objection, Your Honor. Calls for speculation on the part of the witness.”

McBee agreed with him. “Rephrase your question,” he told me.

I turned back to Miller.

Q: “Did you hear Agent Jerome say anything about having a personal vendetta against Reynaldo Juarez?”

A (nodding vigorously): “Yes. He said that they were going to take the compound anyway. That Juarez was not going to escape on his watch. It was obviously very personal to him.”

Q: “What did you think of that?”

A: “I thought it was shortsighted, dangerous. The reason for the immediate assault was no longer applicable. The men inside that compound weren’t going anywhere. The place was surrounded by over fifty DEA agents. Why mount a risky assault when you don’t have to?”

Q: “Were there other reasons you were dubious about this assault on the compound, Sheriff Miller?”

A: “Yes.”

Q: “What were they?”

A: “The quality of the information regarding the men inside the compound. Their degree of readiness, and so forth.”

Q: “Why were you concerned about that?”

A: “It was coming from an untrustworthy source.”

Q: “Untrustworthy in what way?”

A: “Jerome was relying on a drug-gang member who had been turned and was working undercover for him.”

Q: “In common terms, a snitch?”

A: “That’s right.”

Q: “Why do you consider such a source unreliable?”

A: “Because they’re not doing it for the right reasons.”

Q: “Which are?”

A: “To stop a criminal activity.”

Q: “Why are they doing it, then?”

A: “Usually because they’ve been arrested on some other charge, and they’ve worked out a deal to stay out of jail.”

Q: “Was that how it was in this case?”

A: “Yes. I knew the informant. He was considered very unreliable. He was in it strictly for himself. Doing the right thing meant nothing to him.”

Q: “Would you have used him?”

Again, John Q. stood. “Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Miller’s use or disuse of this informant is not relevant.”

“Overruled,” McBee told John Q. firmly. “Sheriff Miller is a well-regarded law-enforcement officer, with a depth of knowledge and experience rarely available. His opinion is instructive. You may answer the question,” McBee told my witness.

I asked Miller again if he would have used Lopez.

A: “No. I would not have. Nor would other sheriffs that I know. He was too unreliable. Which the terrible consequences in this situation proved to be all too true.”

We went back and forth some more about Jerome’s tactics. Then I went for the finish.

Q: “After Reynaldo Juarez was ultimately captured, were you in a position to see what was going on?”

A: “Fairly well. Once the shooting had started, my deputy and I had rushed in to help, so we were closer to the center of things. It was very chaotic, as you could imagine. Dead and wounded, nighttime, a very remote area, nobody really knowing exactly where everyone else was. But yes, to answer your question, I had a decent overlay. By that time I don’t think Agent Jerome cared where I was. He’d gotten what he was after.”

Q: “What about your deputy, Wayne Bearpaw? Was he with you?”

A: “No. Once Juarez had been apprehended, he went home. They didn’t want us there anyway, so there was no reason for him to stay. I only did because it’s my territory, and I felt I had a professional obligation to be there to the finish.”

Q: “Where were you when Juarez escaped?”

A: “I was about thirty or forty yards away.”

Q: “From the trailer where he was being held.”

A: “Yes.”

Q: “What did you do?”

A: “For a moment—no more than a few seconds—I didn’t do anything. I was too shocked, it took that bit of time for it to register. Then I started running after him, like everybody else.”

Q: “Did he disappear from sight?”

A: “Yes, almost instantaneously. You have to remember, it was dark out, and the moon was obscured by clouds. He made it into the woods, almost immediately.”

Q: “Did you hear the gunshot?”

A: “From the bullet that killed Juarez?”

Q: “Yes.”

A: “Yes, I heard it.”

Q: “But you didn’t see the shooting.”

A: “No, sir. I did not. I don’t think anyone did.”

Q: “Except the killer himself.”

I was waiting for John Q. to object to that—I would have, it was speculative. But he knew now how Judge McBee felt about Tom Miller. John Q. wanted this over. He stayed in his seat, quiet.

A: “Except the actual killer, that would be correct.”

Q: “Go back a few minutes from when you saw the dead body of Reynaldo Juarez, Sheriff Miller, to the time when you heard Agent Jerome yelling and saw Juarez fleeing. Did you see the others chase after Juarez?”

A: “Of course. That’s what I said.”

Q: “Yes, you did. Do you recall if any particular agent was leading the pack? Or was it pretty much every man for himself?”

A: “It was every man for himself. The whole thing was a mess, we were lucky no one else was shot in the confusion, there could have been a terrible cross fire—like what happened during the raid on the compound,” Miller said pointedly. “But to answer your question—there was one agent who was ahead of the others.”

Q: “How far ahead?”

A: “Twenty yards at the beginning, I’d say. It could have been more.”

I was finished. Strolling over to the jury box, I leaned on the railing, so that when Miller answered my next question, he’d be looking directly at the jurors, and they at him.

Q: “Can you identify that agent for the jury?”

A: “Yes. It was Agent Jerome. He was ahead of the rest of us.”

A good lawyer knows when the best thing he can do with a witness is get him off the stand as quickly as possible. John Q.’s a good lawyer. He had a few points to make first.

“Before the raid began on the drug compound, Agent Jerome gave some instructions. Do you recall that?” he asked.

“Yes,” Miller answered.

“He stipulated that Reynaldo Juarez was to be taken alive, didn’t he? The entire reason for this was to capture him, not to kill him. Do you recall him saying that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Under no circumstances was Juarez to be killed,” John Q. repeated. “He said it was their supreme objective, on orders directly from the attorney general. Is that true? Captured, not killed.”

“That’s what he said.”

“He was very forceful about that. That Juarez
not
be killed.”

“Yes,” Miller acknowledged. “He said he wanted to take Juarez alive. That the raid would be a bust if he were killed.”

“You saw the prisoner running away when he escaped, Sheriff Miller. Did you have a good view of him?”

Miller nodded. “Yes, I saw him. I wouldn’t say my view was particularly good, under the circumstances. But I did see him.”

“Did he have a gun—Juarez? Was he armed?”

Miller thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. But I couldn’t swear to it.”

Kate and I reconnoitered in my office at the end of the day. Nora was nowhere in sight. For that I was grateful, and relieved. She hadn’t been in court, either. Perhaps she had taken my admonitions to heart. I hoped.

“How’d you do?” Kate asked.

“Good. Miller’s my kind of witness.”

“A dagger to the heart, huh?”

“Dead center.” I grinned.

“Well, I was busy, too.” She pulled out her notepad. “The Nevada casinos are not behind the purchase. They don’t want to have anything to do with Indian gambling, except to get rid of it whenever and wherever they can.”

“Okay, we figured that. Any other sources? What about other tribes?”

“There are rich tribes, and there are poor tribes. Not much in between. The rich tribes are rich because they have mineral rights and get money from the royalties, or because they have gambling. The tribes with money I’ve checked on are the ones whose money comes from gambling.”

“That sounds like the right approach.”

“Thank you,” she said sarcastically. “I checked with about two dozen tribes that have gambling on their reservations, both in California and other states. Some of these tribes are making an amazing amount of money. You wouldn’t believe how much. Hundreds of millions of dollars. If this tribe could tap into one-tenth of that, they’d be sitting pretty.”

“Anyway…”

“I’m getting there, hold your horses.” She closed her notebook. “None of these tribes have been contacted by the White Horse Nation.”

“None?”

“Not a one.”

That was a surprise.

“Oh, and by the way, the BIA isn’t funding it, either. The tribe gave them a check for a hundred fifty K recently, as a deposit on the purchase. The rest is due six months from then, and the guy I talked to in the regional office in Sacramento felt they were going to come up with the money.”

“Where are they getting it, then?” I asked as another thought came to me. “Buying the property is only the tip of the iceberg. They’d have to build a casino, outfit it, the whole schmear. That’s got to be millions. Maybe tens of millions.”

“Well, here’s a rumor that might be interesting.”

I waited.

“Juarez’s operation might have been tunneling money to the tribe. Which is what you thought. But so far that’s only a rumor.”

That rocked me. “That would be a hell of a parlay. Drug running and gambling. A great way to launder money.”

“You bet.”

My mind was spinning. “Follow through on this connection. Maybe there’s something there.”

“Something with Jerome?”

“Somebody gave him half a million dollars. It wasn’t for his good looks.”

“Do you think they could all be connected?”

“I don’t know what to think. And to be honest, I don’t want to start turning over stones I don’t have to turn over. I’ve got a good case. I don’t want to muddy the waters.”

The ballistics expert was one of the state’s top people. John Q. and I had stipulated in advance to his expertise. He testified that the bullet that had killed Juarez could not be traced to any particular weapon, because the casings had been stripped when it had slammed into the tree. All he could say for sure was that it was 9mm., a full-metal jacket, and that it was the bullet that had killed Juarez—DNA taken from blood traces on it matched Juarez’s.