Behind The Lies by Mark Beckner (top ebook reader .TXT) 📕

She leads Garcia past the crime scene tape to where the body is found lying behind some trash containers. Garcia has read the reports describing the previous crime scenes, but the sight of a young man gutted in an alley is still a bit shocking. The victim appears to be a young black male, probably early to mid-twenties, wearing black pants and white short-sleeve button-down shirt that is now saturated with blood. The victim is on his left side in a fetal position with a clear gash in the midsection of his chest. A large pool of blood has formed under and around his body. Lying next to the victim’s body is a bloody kitchen knife.

“What do we know about him?” inquires Garcia.

“His name is Jimmy Johnson, but goes by JJ,” replies Pennington. “He lived in the house right here and worked at the fast-food chicken joint three blocks from here. According to the manager there, our victim worked last night until closing. They stay open late on Fridays and Saturdays, closing at two am. He apparently walks to work, so our guess is he was attacked as he was returning home, sometime after two am.”

About that time, Ricci arrives on the scene. “Hi Juan, hi Gloria.”

“Hi Mike, thanks for coming,” says Sgt. Pennington.

“Of course, what do we have?”

Pennington and Garcia fill Ricci in with what they know so far. Sgt. Pennington turns the scene over to Ricci and Garcia, then turns her attention to coordinating officers to conduct a neighborhood canvass looking for any possible witnesses.

Ricci crouches down close to the body and studies it for several minutes. He is careful not to step on any blood. He then stands up. “Do we know whether he was a drug dealer?”

“Not sure yet,” answers Garcia. “I’ve got a call into Trevon to see if he knows this guy.”

Ricci nods, “I’m going to start taking some photos of the scene and surrounding area while you try to find out if he was a dealer. We also need to look for anything that might be evidence within fifty feet.”

Crime scene technicians arrive on the scene and begin their process of documenting and collecting any potential evidence, including the murder weapon.

Approximately 30 minutes later, Garcia receives the phone call he has been waiting for from Detective Trevon Jackson. As suspected, Jimmy Johnson, 24 years old, is known as a dealer who primarily sells heroin, referred to as brown sugar on the street, as well as Fentanyl, a powerful synthetic drug often called china girl. In the past, Johnson has been linked to an intermediary associated with the Beltran-Leyva Cartel out of Mexico. Johnson has a record of several drug arrests. Garcia then relays this information to Ricci.

“I would say we officially have a serial killer on our hands,” says Ricci. “And it’s probably the same perp from two years ago.”

“I agree,” concurs Garcia.

The following Monday, Ricci, Garcia, Jackson, Sgt. Pennington, and Commander Marshall meet to review the case.

“Alright, tell me what we know,” directs Commander Marshall.

Ricci leads the discussion, explaining that Johnson, known by the street name JJ, had been a drug dealer. The M.O. in this case is virtually the same as in the previous seven homicides. The weapon of choice is a kitchen knife. In each case, the knife is specifically a Cardet kitchen utility knife with a seven-inch blade. All victims have been stabbed just below the breastplate. In each case, the murder weapon is left at the scene, usually resting on the chest of the victim. In this latest case, the knife was found lying on the ground next to the victim. Thus far, no forensic evidence of value has been found at any of the scenes.

In the recent attack, detectives believe the victim was either stalked as he walked home from work and attacked in the alley just as he was arriving home, or the killer was waiting for him in the alley. Either way, this suggests the killer had some knowledge of the victim and his habits.

“What about witnesses?” asks Commander Marshall.

“None,” replies Sgt. Pennington. “We conducted a thorough canvass of the neighborhood and most likely route home and could not locate anyone who heard or saw anything. If they did, they are not willing to share.”

“People are pretty frightened right now,” interjects Jackson. “These killings are putting some real fear into the neighborhood, especially for those in the drug business. The only thing I have of value is that JJ may have been involved in some sort of dispute with another dealer a couple weeks ago by the name of Nathan Smith, nicknamed Snowman.”

“At least that gives us a starting point,” states Commander Marshall. “Mike, Juan, I’d like you to run this down as soon as possible. Get Snowman in here. We can’t have another string of six homicides in this community. What about forensics?”

“Nothing yet,” responds Ricci, “and I don’t believe there will be. The lab will find nothing on that knife other than the victim’s blood and DNA.”

“We collected the usual trash, cigarette butts, and such from the alley,” adds Sgt. Pennington. “But I doubt any of it will be of any use. Whoever the killer is, he is incredibly careful.”

Commander Marshall then concludes the meeting. “Alright then, we’ve got work to do, let’s get on it. I’m tired of this crap happening in our Area.”

Back at their desks, Garcia asks Ricci why there hasn’t been more media attention brought to the case.

“Because no one outside this slum gives a rat’s ass about low-level asshole drug dealers,” insists Ricci. “And how can you blame them?”

“You don’t mean that Mike. All murders are bad.”

“Well, some not as bad as others. If this were a string of Northwestern coeds in Evanston it would draw national media attention. All of Evanston and Chicago would be in fear. But drug dealers in bad neighborhoods, no big deal. You don’t have to like it, but that’s the way it is.”

Garcia knows he has a point. “Maybe,