The detective put him in touch with one of his CIs, a former Crip member, who agreed to be contacted at a designated pay phone. Marinelli put the question to him directly—could any of the local gangs be behind Father Jaime Ramirez’s death?
“Yo, anything possible,” said the raspy-voiced man on the other end. “‘Specially since da man had old connections.”
“Connections? To whom?”
“Connections from his days in Salvador. To Los Diablos.”
Marinelli felt his hands go damp and gripped the receiver tighter. Los Diablos was one of the biggest and most dangerous Salvadoran gangs in Culver City and all along the I-95 corridor. There were no means too violent for them to use in protecting themselves.
“Do you know if the guy who shot him, Chico Hernandez, had connections to Los Diablos?”
“I dunno from Chico Hernandez, man. I do know that neighborhood there be all spics. And them spics like to stick together, see what I’m sayin’?”
Especially when to speak out against Los Diablos meant you could get your tongue cut out or worse, Marinelli thought.
“I wonder how Hernandez got pulled into this thing?” he asked aloud, but talking to himself.
“I dunno, man.”
“Tell me more about Ramirez’s connections with Los Diablos.”
“I can tell ya what I hear, but you ain’t hear it from me. Ya feel me?”
“Okay. Give.”
“Word is the good father been handing out more than holy hosts, see what I’m sayin’?”
Marinelli let this sink in. “Drugs? Are you saying Los Diablos supplied Ramirez with drugs?”
“Truth.”
“Are we talking meth? Heroin?”
“Meth, mostly. He had people dealing for him to fancy folks wit’ da cheese to make it worth his while.”
“Any word that Ramirez might have double-crossed the Diablos? Done something that led them to kill him?”
“Don’t know ‘bout dat, but like I say, anything possible.”
Marinelli hung up and leaned back in his chair. This could be good, he thought. If one of the Diablos could be made for the killing, it would be a big win for both sides. And the Ramirez connection could lead to bigger things, too. Possibly exposing a Diablos drug ring, run by the priest. It would be a huge coup not only for himself, but for the State’s Attorney’s Office.
*****
“Are you insane?” Dawson’s nostrils flared. “Have you forgotten whose side you’re on?”
Marinelli was stunned. “Sir, this is an opportunity—.”
Dawson peered at him. “We’ve successfully prosecuted a case and the defense is filing a late motion for new trial. It’s your job and your duty to fight that motion.”
“With all due respect, sir, it’s my job to prosecute criminals. Not put innocent people behind bars.” Marinelli pointed toward the window. “Out there is the real killer with Diablos connections. If we can find him and prosecute him, it’ll be a huge victory. Plus ...” He paused, not willing to discuss the details of his conversation with the CI yet. “I have reason to suspect the priest was running a drug ring.”
Dawson stared at him for several seconds. “What in blazes leads you to that conclusion?”
“Some information I’ve picked up. I’m checking into it further, before I do anything official with it. Frankly, I think Ramirez’s murder was just the tip of the iceberg. I can feel it.”
“I don’t care what you feel. With the crime rate sky-rocketing and an election right around the corner, this office will not simply toss away a successfully prosecuted murder. You will fight the motion for a new trial, if you want to keep your job.”
Marinelli’s mind reeled. He felt overwhelmed with disgust that statistics and Big Dick’s re-election could matter more than the truth. “What about the forensic evidence? Are we just going to conveniently ignore that?”