“What is it Juan?” asks his wife Rosa.
“Another stabbing,” groans Garcia, as he gets out of bed, stretches his back, then heads for the bathroom to shave and brush his teeth.
“I’m so sorry Juan.”
“Yeah, me too. This is starting to happen much too frequently. We’ve got to stop this guy.” Garcia quickly dresses, straps on his primary and backup handgun, grabs his brown leather portfolio, a dark blue windbreaker jacket, and heads out the door.
Within 45 minutes Garcia is on the scene. Ricci has not yet arrived.
“Good morning Juan,” greets Pennington.
“Not really, but always good to see you Sarge.”
In this case, the victim is not at the scene. He had been picked up by paramedics and rushed to the hospital while performing life-saving measures. Unfortunately, emergency efforts to revive the victim failed. He was pronounced dead at the hospital. Word of his death quickly reaches Garcia.
Damn, thinks Garcia. If only he had lived we would have our first real witness. We just can’t catch a break, and neither can our victims.
The crime scene looks especially gruesome. It appears as though there had been a struggle before the victim succumbed to his injuries. Blood is splashed and spattered across a 12-foot area of the blacktop alley and concrete skirt of a garage adjacent to where the victim had been attacked. A bloody handprint is found on the light green garage door approximately 5 feet off the ground. Two trash cans have been knocked over, spewing trash and rotten food across the entrance to the garage. A dim yellow alley light off the peak of a nearby garage across the alley adds an eerie glow to the scene. The air carries the mixed scent of blood, vehicle exhaust, and rotting garbage. It will certainly take more effort to record and process this scene. Garcia is encouraged by the handprint. Hopefully, we can get prints off that.
The most significant difference from previous attacks is the location of the knife. It is not close to where the victim was discovered by the witness. It is found lying approximately 12 feet north from where the victim had fallen. It looks as though the attacker may have dropped or thrown the knife as he was leaving the scene.
Garcia observes the bloodstains and spatter emanating from the apparent point of attack. The resident garage with the bloody palm print is on the south side of the alley with the garage door facing north. Garcia notes a series of raindrop-shaped blood spatter approximately three to six feet from the victim. This indicates the blood had hit the ground at an angle, rather than falling straight from above. Examination of this blood spatter will help blood spatter analysts determine information such as the direction of attack and potentially whether the attacker was right or left-handed.
Patrol officers have quickly obtained victim identification from neighbors who have gathered after hearing the commotion and seeing all the flashing police lights through their windows. The victim is known as Miguel Gomez, a Hispanic male, age 27. Gomez lived in a multi-unit brownstone house about five houses away from the scene. Two neighbors admit to knowing Gomez was primarily a cocaine dealer who managed his drug trade over the telephone. It is said he would take orders over the phone and then deliver them to his customers. He did not want customers coming to his residence. He also preferred to make his deliveries under cover of darkness, primarily using the alleyways to make deliveries.
Detective Jackson, who arrived a short time earlier, tells Garcia that Gomez had been on the task force’s radar, but they had been unable to make a case against him.
“He was careful about who he sold to,” says Jackson. “Liked to make his deliveries on foot to scan the area for anyone who might be a cop. He figured it was easier to hide from a passing patrol car or run from an officer on foot than if he was in a car. I talked to Ricci about him last week.”
“You talked to Ricci about Gomez last week?”
“Yeah, he wanted some names of known dealers to interview about these attacks, hoping to get some information on who might be doing this.”
“Now that you mention it, I remember Ricci saying something about interviewing known dealers. We’ve just been so busy.”
Garcia is anxious to interview the witness. Just maybe he got a good look at our killer. What is taking Ricci so long to get here? I hope he is feeling okay.
About 10 minutes later, Ricci pulls into the alley and walks toward Garcia and Jackson. “What have we got this time?”
Garcia gives him the rundown on what they know right now and allows Ricci some time to inspect the crime scene.
“This is a bloody mess,” says Ricci.
“Looks like our victim had time to resist a bit,” replies Jackson.
“Any witnesses?” asks Ricci.
“Yes,” says Garcia, “a resident by the name of Jarvis Harden. He lives right here. This is his garage. He heard some banging noises and shouting at about three twenty this morning. He came running out his back door and found our victim stabbed and bleeding. Victim was still alive at the time, but the wounds were too severe. He died on the way to the hospital. Our witness is waiting to be interviewed.”
“Right,” responds Ricci. “Let’s get him to the station and interview him there.”
Jackson volunteers to take Harden to the station. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Good, thanks Trevon,” says Garcia.
Back at the station, witness Jarvis Harden is placed in a small interview room where everything can be recorded. He is provided a cup of freshly brewed coffee and offered a cinnamon roll, to which he gladly accepts. Jarvis is a 34-year-old African American living with his girlfriend and her two children. He works at a local lumber yard and to the detective’s knowledge, has no connection to the drug trade or to any gang. According to Harden, he hates the drug issues plaguing
