Disclaimer: See Chapter Two (there's a switch!)
Authors Note: After some due deliberation, I think we're going to be going on to four chapters. An anonymous reviewer brought up a valid point that I'm going to address. He/she said that no new info was revealed to move the story along. Not strictly true. Agent Franklin Id'd the vehicle where the shots came from. This vehicle was later recovered. Below, you'll see that the van and its recovery are going to play a part in our little drama. It's definitely going to "move the story along".
Spoilers: See Chapter Two.
"The box", NIS Field Office, Camp Pendleton MCB, Wednesday, March 6, 1991 0145hrs
Most of the time, police work is accomplished not by great investigative skill. It gets done because people get pissed off at other people and snitch 'em off. Such was the case with Nestor Sanchez. Nestor was one of the two 'homies' spotted with Pedro Hernandez at the diner on Thursday morning. The other was Juan Calderon. Mr. Calderon and Mr. Hernandez were still among the missing. Not so Mr. Sanchez. He was currently sitting on a folding chair glaring at Special Agent Mike Franks. Also in the room were Special Agent Brett Place and Assistant US Attorney Brian Davies.
All four men were in the interrogation room (aka "the box") of the NIS Field Office. "The box" was formerly a storage room. There was enough room for a table and two folding chairs. Anybody else would have to stand. Which is what Davies and Place were doing. Unlike the interrogation rooms at the Provost Marshalls Office, there was no one way mirror for observers to stand behind. Also there was no sound or video. On the table between Franks and Nestor was a cassette player/recorder with a mike on a little stand. Mike was sitting, arms folded watching Sanchez glare at him. They'd been in this position since about 0030.
At about 2200 on Tuesday evening, Mike Franks and Brett Place were eating take out fried chicken in Mike's office. Since the shootings on Thursday, Place had gravitated to Franks. Mike really didn't have a partner so he let Brett 'tag along' when he went out. The phone on Mike's desk rang. It was the madam of a cat house on the edge of the Oceanside barrio. Mike helped her out once, smoothing over a beef with the Oceanside PD Vice Unit. The madam told Mike that Nestor was availing himself of the hospitality of the house. She knew Mike would like to "talk" to Nestor. Would he be interested in having that chat now? Franks indicated he would most definitely wish to speak with Mr. Sanchez. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Mike did want to know what motivated the madam to this act of civic mindedness. Apparently "that pendejo Nestor" had messed up one of the madam's prime girls a couple of weeks back. This caused an unexpected drop in profits for the month, making for one pissed off madam. She was now returning the favor, sort of speak. Mike thanked her after assuring her he'd be right down.
Naturally SAC Applegate wanted to mount the equivalent of the Normandy invasion to pick up Nestor. Mike had disagreed, arguing that too much fuss might tip Nestor off. He and Place would go get Nestor. Applegate could call down to Dago to get an AUSA up to sit in on the questioning. That's what happened. Mike and Brett went to the house. The madam was waiting downstairs with Nestor's girl. Apparently life on the run had made Nestor horny. He'd tired himself out and according to the girl was sleeping like a baby. At least until Mike screwed the barrel of his Python into Nestor's ear, waking him. The ride from the house back to NIS was mostly silent. From the agents standpoint anyway. Nestor was making his displeasure known rather loudly. In both English and Spanish.
He'd stood mute however since being brought into "the box". Franks was waiting for some indication that he could start. Finally Sanchez stopped glaring and shifted in his seat. Mike took this as his cue. He unfolded his arms and placed his hands flat on the table on either side of a manila folder.
"Okay Nestor. We both know why you're here. Before I turn on the tape and make this official, we're gonna have a little chat. Well, actually I'm going to talk; you're just going to listen, since you haven't been given your rights yet."
Nestor grinned and said in Spanish, "That's right you fuckfaced Fed. You ain't got a thing you can put on me. I'm gonna sit right here and laugh at you. Shit, you probably don't even know what I'm sayin'."
Not changing expression, Mike said in Spanish, "Well Nestor I do know what you just said. I also know that I've got enough on ya to put ya in the ground. Whatta ya think of that."
If the Virgin Mary herself had showed up in "the box", Nestor wouldn't have been more surprised. Mike switched back to English.
"Let's cut the shit shall we. Here it is Nestor. We found the van."
Sanchez's eyes widened slightly. Mike picked it up.
Gotcha.
"And in the van we found a fingerprint. Your fingerprint. You didn't think that torching it would remove all the evidence did ya?"
This was a bald faced lie. There wasn't anything in the van that was useable.
"Now we know that you, Calderon, and Hernandez were together on the 28th at seven thirty. I also think as we keep digging, we'll come up with somebody who saw the three of you get in that van."
Sanchez's nostrils twitched.
Oh yeah.
"The only bad thing from your standpoint is Calderon and Hernandez are still in the wind. You're right here though. With your ass hanging out.
Nestor smirked.
"You still got jack. If you had anything, I'd be charged."
Mike sighed.
"Nestor, Nestor. Don't you see? You're here. I've got your fingerprint in the vehicle where the shots came from. And I have this."
Mike removed three close up autopsy photos from the folder and spread them out, tapping each one in turn.
"A dead Federal agent with half his head shot away. A hero Marine's dead wife, and to top it off his dead eight year old daughter."
Some color drained from Nestor's face.
Time to set the hook.
"Now, any prosecutor worth his wingtips could indict a ham sandwich. What do ya think is gonna happen when Mr. Davies here steps in front of a Federal grand jury with these pictures and your fingerprint from that van? Then, even though the evidence is circumstantial, what do you think a jury is going to say after hearing about a young mother and her eight year old being snuffed out?"
Nestor's eyes started sliding around the room.
Now to reel him in.
"To top it off, by now Hernandez knows you got picked up. What do you think he's thinkin'? I'll tell ya. He's goin' 'That cabron Nestor is rollin' over.' You go to the county or the Metropolitan Correctional Center in Dago, how long do ya think you'll last? Pedro snuffed an eight year old. He'll step on you like a cockroach."
Nestor looked up at the ceiling.
"What do I get?"
Pushing off the wall in his corner, Davies spoke.
"You show me yours and I'll show you mine Mr. Sanchez."
Nestor sighed.
"Let's go on the tape."
Twenty five minutes later they had it all. Hernandez was behind the rifle. Sanchez and Calderon was the backup. A file clerk with access to the safe house file had tipped Hernandez to the safe house. Using static surveillance the gang knew when the NIS agents hit the I-5. The rest was history. Davies motioned to the door with his head. Mike nodded.
"Brett, keep Nestor entertained."
Place smiled.
"Sure Mike."
Davies and Franks walked into the corridor.
"Good job Mike. No offense, but I'm calling the office to have a unit of Marshalls come down and take Nestor to San Diego."
"I can see your point Brain. Harold won't have a problem with it. Matter of fact, why don't you go give him a heads up and we'll get Nestor ready to go."
NIS Field Office Camp Pendleton MCB, Thursday, March 14, 1991 1030hrs
Agents Franks and Place were doing paperwork in Mike's office. In the eight days since Nestor Sanchez rolled on the Hernandez crew, several developments took place. Raids were conducted on any known associates of the group. A Federal murder indictment was handed down against Pedro Hernandez. Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs was transferred from the hospital in Saudi Arabia to the Landstuhl Army Regional Medical Center in Germany.
Intelligence gathered in the raids indicated that any day Pedro Hernandez would jump the border. He had a hacienda in central Mexico to run to.
The prognosis on Gunny Gibbs was mixed. One set of neurosurgeons said he'd come out of it. Another said he would not. Mike was betting he would. Special Agent Tom Welsh stuck his head in the door.
"Hey guys, 'Iron Ass' wants you in his office pronto."
Mike looked up from his paperwork.
"Thanks Tom. Let's go, Junior."
Unintentionally Franks and Place developed a partnership. Thrown together by the case, Franks found a steady, bright guy to back him. Place learned more police work in two weeks than he'd learned in two years. As they entered the SAC's office Mike saw a uniformed Border Patrol Inspector sitting next to Applegate's desk.
"Agents Franks and Place, this is Inspector Webster. He's got some news for us."
Mike kept his face blank.
I'll bet it's all bad too.
The inspector stood holding a VHS tape.
"This is from a camera at the Tijuana crossing. Taken this morning at 0345. Your forensic people enhanced it for us."
Webster shoved the tape into a VCR that Applegate had in the corner of his office. The men gathered around the TV.
"This particular camera is focused on the Mexican side."
As Webster spoke, a white sedan came into the frame from the US side. The rear plate was red white and blue. Clearly a State Dept. issued diplomatic plate.
Mike groaned.
"SHIT"
Webster smiled sympathetically.
"Uh, huh"
The vehicle glided up to the booth at the Mexican checkpoint. Papers were exchanged. The car then moved off, but stopped still in camera range. The left rear door opened and Pedro Hernandez stepped out. He faced back towards the US side. Clearly he knew there was a camera there. Hernandez grinned widely and grabbed his crotch. Mike's face turned to stone.
"If it's the last thing I ever do, I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch."
NIS Field Office, Camp Pendleton MCB, Wednesday, March 20, 1991 1106hrs
Mike Franks was still feeling the effects of last night. For the last six days, he'd gone out drinking to the Code Four Lounge. Elena was pissed at him. Since the end of February, he'd seen her maybe three times. The SAC finally called him into his office and told him to 'get his head out of his ass'.
So now Mike was doing exactly that. With a last signature the file on the Bailey-Gibbs homicides went from 'active' to 'pending'. Franks would be going back to his regular desk and caseload. The job was over. Walk away.
Somebody cleared their throat. Mike looked up. Applegate.
"Looks like you get to keep this office a little while longer Franks. Gunny Gibbs woke up this morning. He'll be back here in about a week."
Mike grimaced.
"Great. I get to tell him that I couldn't catch the scumbag who killed his wife and daughter. Can't wait.
A/N: The whole 'Gibbs in a coma for 19 days' thing is a royal pain. But now we're gonna get to the juicy parts. I know I said I'd be able to do this in three chapters. Now it looks like definitely four or maybe five (stop saying 'I told ya so' M E). Puncture the balloon and let me know how I'm doing.
