if we don’t see any signs by tomorrow night. We have the newspaper article and we have to make sure he sees it.”
“How’s he going to read it if he’s dyslexic?” Renner asked.
“He got a GED,” Bosch said. “He should be able to read it. We just have to make sure it somehow gets in front of him.”
Everybody nodded their agreement and then Pratt wrapped things up.
“Okay, gang, that’s it,” Pratt said. “I will be checking with everybody through the days and nights. Stay loose and be careful with these guys. We don’t want anything turning back on us. You people taking the first shift might want to head home now and get a good night. Just remember, the clock’s ticking on the warrant. We have till Friday night and then it’s pumpkins. So let’s get out there and get what’s to be got. We’re the closers. So let’s close this one out.”
Bosch and Rider stood and small-talked about the case with the others for a few minutes and then Bosch made his way back to their alcove. He pulled the copy of the probation file out of the stack of accumulated case files. He had not gotten a chance to read through it thoroughly and now was the time.
The file was an add-on file, meaning that as Mackey repeatedly was arrested and continued a lifelong trek through the criminal justice system the reports and court transcripts were merely added to the front of the file. Therefore the reports ran in reverse chronological order. Bosch was most interested in Mackey’s earlier years. He went to the back of the file with the idea of moving forward in time.
Mackey’s first arrest as an adult came only a month after he turned eighteen. In August 1987 he was picked up for car theft in what the follow-up reports classified as a joyriding incident. Mackey had been living at home at the time and stole a neighbor’s Corvette. He had jumped in the car and taken off after the neighbor had left it running in the driveway and gone back inside his house for a forgotten pair of sunglasses.
Mackey pleaded guilty and the presentencing report contained in the file cited his juvenile record but made no mention of the Chatsworth Eights. In September 1987 the young car thief was placed on one year probation by a superior court judge, who tried to talk Mackey out of a life of crime.
The transcript of the sentencing hearing was in the file. Bosch read the judge’s two-page lecture, in which he told Mackey he had seen young men like him a hundred times before. He told Mackey he was standing at the same precipice as the others. One simple crime could be a life lesson, or it could be the first step down a spiral. He urged Mackey not to go down the wrong path. He told him to think hard and make the right decision on which way to go.
The words of warning had obviously fallen on deaf ears. Six weeks later Mackey was arrested for burglarizing a neighborhood home while the husband and wife who lived there were at work. Mackey had cut an alarm, but the break in current had registered with the alarm company and a patrol car was dispatched. When Mackey came out the back door carrying a video camera and assorted other electronics and jewelry, two officers were waiting with guns drawn.
Because Mackey had been on probation for the car theft he was held in the county jail while awaiting disposition of the case. After thirty-six days in stir he stood before the same judge again and, according to the transcript, begged forgiveness and for one more chance. This time the presentencing report noted that drug testing indicated that Mackey was a marijuana user and that he had begun hanging around an unsavory group of young men from the Chatsworth area.
Bosch knew that these men were likely the Chatsworth Eights. It was early December and their plan of terror and symbolic homage to Adolf Hitler was just a few weeks away. But none of this was in the PSR. The report simply stated that Mackey was hanging with the wrong crowd. As he sentenced Mackey, the judge would not have known how wrong that crowd was.
Mackey was sentenced to three years of prison reduced to time served. He was also placed on two years probation. The judge, knowing that prison would be just a finishing school for a young criminal like Mackey, was giving him a break and attempting to break him at the same time. Mackey walked out of court free, but the judge had placed a series of heavy restrictions on his probation. They included weekly drug tests, maintaining gainful employment and a requirement that the high school dropout get his general education degree within nine months. The judge told Mackey that if he failed in any part of the probation order he would be sent to a state prison to complete his three-year sentence.
“You may consider this harsh, Mr. Mackey,” the judge said in the transcript. “But I consider it quite kind. I am giving you a last chance here. If you fail me on this, you will without a doubt be going to prison. Society will be through with trying to help you at that point. It will simply throw you away. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Mackey said.
The file came with copies of the court-requested completion reports from Chatsworth High. Mackey got his GED in August 1988, a little more than a month after Rebecca Verloren was taken from her bed and murdered.
Despite the judge’s admirable efforts to steer Mackey from a life of crime, Bosch had to wonder if those efforts had cost Rebecca Verloren her life. Whether Mackey was the actual triggerman or not, he’d had possession of the gun that killed her. Was it reasonable to think that the chain of events leading to the murder would have been broken if Mackey had been behind bars? Bosch wasn’t sure. It was possible that Mackey simply filled a role as weapon delivery man. If it wasn’t him it could have been someone else. Bosch knew there was no sense in breaking down the chain into what could or could not have happened.
“Anything?”
Bosch looked up from his thoughts. Rider was standing at her desk. He flipped the file closed.
“Nah, not really. I was reading the probation file. The early stuff. A judge took an interest at first but then sort of let him go. The best he could do was make him get the GED.”
“And that served him so well, didn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Bosch said nothing else. He only had a GED himself. He’d also stood before a judge once as a car thief. The car he had gone joyriding in had also been a Corvette. Except it had not been a neighbor’s. It had been his foster father’s. Bosch had taken it as a way to say fuck you. But it was the foster father who sent the ultimate fuck you. Bosch was sent back to the youth hall to fend for himself.
“My mother died when I was eleven,” Bosch suddenly said.
Rider looked at him, doing her eyebrow thing.
“I know. Why’d you bring that up?”
“I don’t know. I spent a lot of time in the youth hall after that. I mean, I had some stays with foster families but it never lasted long. I always went back.”
Rider waited but Bosch didn’t continue.
“And?” she prompted.
“Well, we didn’t have gangs in the hall,” he said. “But there was sort of a natural segregation. You know, the whites stuck together. The blacks. The Hispanics. There weren’t any Asians back then.”
“What are you saying, that you feel sorry for this asshole Mackey?”
“No.”
“He killed a girl or at least helped kill her, Harry.”
“I know that, Kiz. That’s not my point.”
“What is your point?”
“I don’t know. I’m just sort of wondering, you know, what makes people go down different paths. How come this guy became a hater? How come I didn’t?”
“Harry, you’re overthinking. Go home tonight and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll need it because there won’t be any tomorrow night.”
Bosch nodded but didn’t move.
“You going to take off?” Rider asked.
“Yeah, in a few. You heading out?”
“Yeah, unless you want me to go with you over to Hollywood Vice.”
“Nah, I’ll be all right. Let’s talk in the morning after we get the paper.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure where I can get the
The
