She knew this could be the solve she needed to save herself.
5
Ballard pulled the curtain closed after stepping out of the treatment bay and walked over to the nursing station so she would not block traffic in the busy ER. She took out her phone and called the number for the Hollywood Division Gang Enforcement Detail. No one picked up. She then called the inside line in the watch office. Sergeant Kyle Dallas answered and Ballard asked him who was working second twelves from GED.
“That would be Janzen and Cordero,” Dallas said. “And I think Sergeant Davenport is around too.”
“Out or in?” Ballard asked.
“I just saw Cordero in the break room, so I guess they might have all come in now that the witching hour is passed.”
“Okay, if you see them, tell them to stay put. I need to talk to them. I’ll be in soon.”
“You got it.”
Ballard went through the automatic doors to the waiting room and saw Moore and Rodriguez sitting in the corner with the Raffa family in a group interview. Renée was annoyed that Moore had not conducted individual interviews but then she reminded herself that Moore was used to investigating sexual assaults, which usually involved solo interviews of victims. Moore was out of her league here and Rodriguez just didn’t know any better.
Ballard saw that the son was sitting outside the huddle and looking over the shoulders of two of his sisters at Moore. He was young enough to still be in school, which meant he might speak English. Moore should have known this.
She walked up and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Do you speak English?” she whispered.
The boy nodded.
“Come with me, please,” Ballard said.
She led him over to another corner. The waiting room was surprisingly uncrowded. Surprising for any night of the week but particularly for post-midnight on New Year’s Eve. She pointed to a chair for the boy to take and then pulled a second chair away from the wall and positioned it so they could talk face-to-face.
They both sat down.
“What’s your name?” Ballard asked.
“Gabriel,” the boy said.
“You are Javier’s son?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. We are going to find out what happened and who did it. I’m Detective Ballard. You can call me Renée.”
Gabriel eyed her uniform.
“Detective?” he asked.
“We had to be in uniform for New Year’s Eve,” Ballard said. “Everybody out on the street, that sort of thing. How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“What school do you go to?”
“Hollywood.”
“And you were at the shop’s tow yard tonight at midnight?”
“Yes.”
“Were you with your father?”
“Uh, no, I was … over by the Caddy.”
While at the crime scene, Ballard had seen a rusting old Cadillac parked in the lot. Its trunk was open and there was a beer keg sitting in a bed of ice inside it.
“Were you with anyone by the Caddy?” Ballard asked.
“My girlfriend,” Gabriel said.
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t want to get her in trouble or nothing.”
“She’s not in trouble. We’re just trying to figure out who was there tonight, that’s all.”
Ballard waited.
“Lara Rosas,” Gabriel finally said.
“Thank you, Gabriel,” Ballard said. “Do you know Lara from school or the neighborhood?”
“Uh, both.”
“And she went home?”
“Yeah, she left when we came here.”
“Did you see what happened to your father?”
“No, I just saw after. Him lying there.”
Gabriel was exhibiting no emotion and Ballard saw no tear lines on his face. She knew this meant nothing. People process and express shock and grief in different ways. Unusual behavior or a lack of obvious emotion should not be considered suspicious.
“Did you see anybody at the party that you thought was strange or didn’t belong?” Ballard asked.
“Not really,” Gabriel said. “There was a guy there at the keg who didn’t look like he belonged. But it was a street party. Who knows.”
“Was he asked to leave?”
“No, he was just there. He got his beer and then I guess he left. I didn’t see him no more.”
“Was he from the neighborhood?”
“I doubt it. I never saw him before.”
“What makes you say that he didn’t look like he belonged?”
“Well, he was a white guy, plus he seemed kind of dirty, you know. His clothes and stuff.”
“You think he was homeless?”
“I don’t know, maybe. That’s what I thought.”
“And this was before the shooting that you saw him?”
“Yeah, before. Definitely. It was before everyone started looking up.”
“You said his clothes were dirty. What was he wearing?”
“A gray hoodie and blue jeans. His pants were dirty.”
“Was it dirt or grease?”
“Like dirt, I think.”
“Was the hoodie up or down? Could you see his hair?”
“It was up. But it kind of looked like he had a shaved head.”
“Okay. What about his shoes, do you remember them?”
“Nah, I don’t know about his shoes.”
Ballard paused and tried to commit the details of the stranger to memory. She was not writing anything down. She thought it would be better to maintain eye contact with Gabriel and not possibly spook him by taking out a notebook and pen.
“Who else did you notice who wasn’t right?” she asked.
“Nobody else,” Gabriel said.
“And you’re not sure if the guy in the hoodie hung around after getting his beer?”
“I didn’t see him again.”
“So, when you last saw him, how long was that before midnight and all the shooting started?”
“I don’t know, a half hour.”
“Did you see anybody like your dad ask him what he was doing there or ask him to leave?”
“No, because it was like a block party. Everybody welcome.”
“Did you see any other white people at the party?”
“A few, yeah.”
“But they weren’t suspicious.”
“No.”
“But this other guy was.”
“Well, it was like a party and he was dirty. And he had the hoodie up, you know?”
“Your father had a work shirt on. Was that usual?”
“ ’Cause it had his name on it. He wanted all the neighbors to know who he was. He always did that.”
Ballard nodded. It was now time to ask more difficult questions and hold this kid to her side as long as she could.
“Did you fire any weapons tonight, Gabriel?” she asked.
“No, no way,” Gabriel said.
“Okay, good. Are you associated with Las Palmas Thirteen?”
“What are you asking me? I’m no gangster. My dad said no way.”
“Don’t get upset. I’m just trying to figure out what’s what.