Detective

The first dispatcher replied, "Sir, we are on the way. Have the suspects left?"

"Yes, they jumped into their car a gray Buick Century. There were three of them. They all had guns. They really shot up the policemen. They look dead."

"Okay, sir. Try to calm down. We need your help."

Another dispatcher had turned switches, opening the way for a BOLO. It would reach all county and state police and every other law enforcement agency. The call was preceded by a five-second loud continuous tone, signaling its importance and priority. The tone and message following would override all other transmissions everywhere.

"Attention all units. A three-two-nine just occurred at Coral Way and Thirty-second Avenue, Barnett Bank. There are reports of at least two officers down. Suspects left the scene in a gray Buick Century."

The number "three" in the message indicated emergency; the "two-nine" was a signal code for robbery.

From every part of the city, police units began converging at high speed on the Barnett Bank at Coral Way. As a TV reporter commented soon after, "When a cop gets shot, everyone heads for the scene. There are no holds barred. All hell breaks loose."

By now another dispatcher had summoned Fire-Rescue ambulances and paramedics.

The first dispatcher: "Mr. Ramirez, are you still there?" "Yes. I can hear sirens. Thank God they're coming."

"Sir, were you able to get any description of the suspects?"

"I got the license. NZD six-two-one, a Florida plate."

The dispatcher, quickly transferring the information to her computer, thought, This guy is one good citizen!

Another dispatcher promptly sent a second BOLO, again preceded by the five-second priority tone, with the license number of the suspects' car.

"Mr. Ramirez, did you see what the suspects looked like?"

"I got a pretty good look. Yes, I can describe them."

"That's excellent, sir. Please stay there until a unit arrives, and give them that information."

"They're all arriving now. Thank God!"

* * *

Homicide's Lieutenant Newbold, driving with his radio on channel three, heard the Ramirez call for help. Newbold immediately switched his radio to the special surveillance channel and called Ainslie, whose voice, also from a car, came back promptly.

"QSK, Lieutenant."

"Malcolm, take all your people off surveillance. Get them to Coral Way and Thirty-second Avenue. Two policemen and a security guard have been shot in an armored truck robbery, one policeman and the guard reported DOA. I want you to handle it. Assign whoever you want to lead."

Ainslie permitted himself a silent Damn! knowing this unexpected new priority meant the surveillance program was going down the tubes. Aloud, he transmitted, "Okay, Lieutenant. I'll take my units."

The surveillance teams, monitoring the same channel, should have heard the exchange, but Ainslie called, "Thirteen-ten to all units. Did you hear that?"

"Thirteen-eleven to thirteen-ten. Heard it." The other teams on duty made identical reports.

"Then go to Coral Way and Thirty-second, guys. I'll meet you there."

Switching channels, Ainslie called, "Thirteen-ten to dispatcher. Ask any unit on the shooting scene to go to Tac One for me." Tac One was the Homicide channel.

A familiar voice responded from the Barnett Bank scene: "Thirteen-ten, this is one-seven-zero. QSK."

Ainslie asked, "Is this Bart?" Bartolo Esposito was a uniform patrol sergeant, but last names were never used on radio, mainly because the media was listening.

"Sure is, Malcolm. We got big trouble here. What do you want me to do?"

"Rope off the scene, as big an area as you can, and keep everyone away."

"It's being cleared now, except for Fire-Rescue. They're trying to stabilize the wounded officer before transporting."

"Thanks, Bart. I'll be there shortly."

Ainslie returned to channel three and asked the dispatcher to get ID to the scene.

"Doing that now, thirteen-ten."

On another channel Ainslie summoned a state attorney.

* * *

On arriving at the Barnett Bank, Malcolm Ainslie appointed Detective Ruby Bowe as lead investigator. She immediately began questioning several witnesses, including Tomas Ramirez, who supplied a surprisingly good description of the three gunmen, now widely sought fugitives. Despite that information, and the earlier description of the getaway car and license number, the suspects had not been seen, so it seemed likely they had gone into hiding, probably not far away.

Only minutes after Lieutenant Newbold reached the crime scene, Lieutenant Daniel Huerta of Robbery arrived, too. His first words to Newbold were, "I know this is now your scene, Leo, but I need all my people back immediately."

"You got 'em," Newbold told him.

They agreed that Robbery could probably help in identifying the suspects, who most likely had previous robbery records.

Though no one said so, there was always a competitive edge between Robbery and Homicide. Neither side, however, was foolish enough to let rivalry impede an investigation.

As all leads were followed, evidence and information accumulated, including positive identification of the three killers by several witnesses who had pored over mug shots from police files. The charges would now be triple murder, because the wounded second policeman had since died.

Tips from informants about possible hideaways resulted in raids unproductive until two of the offenders were spotted going into a first-floor apartment, part of an abandoned residential complex in the Deep Grove area, a seedy adjunct to Coconut Grove. Local residents who had seen the suspects called police.

Shortly before dawn on the third day after the robbery and murders, a SWAT team converged on the apartment, where all three men were sleeping. Though still heavily armed, the men were taken by surprise, handcuffed, and their weapons seized. The bag of money stolen from the armored truck was recovered, and the Buick Century used in the robbery was found two blocks away.

* * *

Ainslie now knew there was no chance of reviving the surveillance, and wasn't sure it was such a bad thing, given the disappointing results so far. Instead he concentrated on reviewing all the serial crimes. Contrary to his hopes, no leads or fresh ideas developed.

Then the unexpected happened.

Three days after the armored truck perpetrators were arrested, when routines in Homicide were beginning to return to normal, the Dade County assistant medical examiner phoned Malcolm Ainslie.

Sandra Sanchez said, "When we last met, Malcolm, I promised to look among old autopsy records for any unresolved deaths with similar wound patterns. Well, I have, and I'm sorry it took so long, but what I've been searching through is old stuff, papers that aren't computerized "

"Don't apologize," Ainslie said. "The point is, have you found anything?"

"Yes, I think so. It's in a file with a lot of other material, and I've sent the whole lot over to you by messenger. The case is an old, unsolved killing seventeen years ago, with two elderly victims named Esperanza Clarence and Florentina."

"Are any suspects named?"

"There's one. But look, I don't want to tell you any more because you must read through the file. Call me when you're finished."

The file arrived a short time later. As Sanchez had indicated, it contained a lot of paper. Without expecting too much, Ainslie opened the now-faded cover and began to read.

The Esperanzas were both in their early seventies and lived in the Happy Haven Trailer Park in West Dade. Their bodies, discovered by a neighbor, were gagged and bound and in seated positions, facing each other. Both the man and woman had been brutally beaten and had suffered deep knife cuts. The official cause of both deaths was exsanguination loss of blood resulting from wounds.

Ainslie skipped through the remaining medical papers, then found a copy of a police report that revealed the Esperanzas were comfortably off, though not wealthy. They had three thousand Dollars in a bank account and, according to a nephew who lived nearby, the couple usually had several hundred Dollars in cash on hand for their immediate needs. After the murders, no cash whatever was found.

At the back of the file, as Ainslie flipped more pages, he saw a familiar Form 301 a Homicide investigation report. It concerned a juvenile suspect who had been interrogated concerning the Esperanzas' deaths, then released for lack of evidence.

A name on the 301 leaped out at him. Elroy Doil.

10

In conformity with Florida law, Elroy Doil's juvenile crime record had been sealed when he reached the age of eighteen. At that point it became inaccessible to investigators except with a judicial order, which was rarely granted. Similar laws existed in most other states.

In Malcolm Ainslie's opinion, shared by many in law enforcement, the procedure was a legal anachronism, absurdly out of date, and a brazen disservice to law-abiding citizens. During a meeting with Lieutenant Newbold the morning after the discovery of Elroy Doil's name on the old Form 301, Ainslie spread out papers on the lieutenant's desk, his anger barely contained.

"This is insane! There are things here we should have known a year ago."

An hour earlier he had unearthed a file on the unsolved Esperanza killings from a storeroom containing old records. It was not a complete accounting because the crime occurred outside Miami, in Metro-Dade territory. But inquiries had extended across borders, and Miami Homicide opened its own Esperanza file, which included some Metro-Dade memos about the crime. It was among the latter that Ainslie found reference to the interrogation of Doil, which Sandra Sanchez had reported. But without the Sanchez tip there would have been no reason to disinter the long-ago file.

"Of course," Newbold pointed out, "Doil was never arrested or charged."

"Because his mother was smart enough not to let Elroy be fingerprinted. A knife was found near the murder scene with fingerprints on it, and both victims' blood. A bowie knife. Metro-Dade Homicide wanted to compare those prints with Doil's, and they were pretty sure they'd match. But because there wasn't enough evidence for an arrest, plus Elroy being a juvenile, it never happened."

Newbold agreed, "That's sure a lot of coincidence."

"Coincidence? The Esperanza MO at that trailer camp was the same as we're seeing now. The way the bodies have been found gagged, facing each other then the beatings, knife cuts, stolen money. If we'd had Doil's early records, those MO's would have been matched and we'd have been all over him long ago." Ainslie leaned forward staring fiercely. "Do you know how many lives we might have saved?"

Newbold stood up and glared back. "Hey, Sergeant, they're not my laws! Now back off!"

Ainslie slumped into the chair behind him and sighed. "Sorry. But, Leo, our whole juvenile system is crazy, not just in Florida but everywhere. There isn't just juvenile crime anymore; at whatever age, it's plain, simple crime you know it as well as I do. Every day we see murders committed by kids fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, for God's sake! Or younger. Of all weapons arrests, more than half involve teenagers. In Detroit a woman was murdered by boys of eleven and fourteen. Two twelve-year-olds in Chicago threw a kid of five from a high-rise. In England two ten-year-old boys killed a two-year-old. It's the same with robberies, assaults, rapes, carjackings, you name it. Yet here we are, policemen, law enforcers, handcuffed by this ridiculous, archaic system that should have been thrown out years ago."