“What happened in there? I’m completely confused.”
Cai and I were standing on the sidewalk outside of Darna Ocampo’s building and she was looking to me to explain why the connection between Renacido, Quantum, and Wykell had set off my alarm buttons, but I was already mentally speeding through the implications.
“Sorry, I gotta run. I’ll fill you in later, promise. Please, just get Darna locked down with counsel as soon as you can,” I said, already in the street. “You called an Uber, right?”
Cai lifted her hands in a what-just-happened gesture. “Go. I love standing on the street corner by myself. If I get mugged, I’ll blame you. Forever.”
“Our next dinner is on me. An expensive one.” I smiled and blew her a kiss as I got in my car.
Quantum Holdings was the Renacido Center. Or was the parent company, or a holding company, and that connected them to Zoe’s death. Her presence in that home was not coincidence.
I flew into the Link-Media office, nearly knocking Brynn’s laptop out of her hands as we collided at the elevator.
“You might want to go hide out at the coffee shop for a little while,” she said. “Borkowski’s in a snit about me running out by Midway yesterday to see Darius. Just to give you a heads-up, he’s not happy with you. Or with me. Apparently, he’d rather I work on something meaty, like calling the Anti-Cruelty Society and PAWS about the next pet adoption week. We might want to show him a rough draft of where this story is going to get him off our asses for a bit.”
“What’s he gonna do? Fire me?” I retorted, continuing toward my office. Borkowski would thank me after the fact, even if he didn’t know it yet. “You coming? Or would you prefer dog duty?”
Brynn let out a snort and was fast on my heels.
“Do you remember the name of the company that was listed as having purchased the building that houses the Renacido Center?” I asked, not giving her a moment to adjust. Flipping open my laptop, I logged in to LexisNexis.
“Umm, starts with a P. Oh, I think it was Planck Holdings.” She dropped her body into the chair, rested her elbows on her knees, and stared at me expectantly. “You wanna fill me in? Might make it easier for me to help.”
“Let me check something.” I opened a second browser window and typed in Planck Holdings, scrolling the search results before letting out a laugh.
“Planck. Max Planck. The father of quantum theory. Someone has a sense of humor, as well as a fascination with advanced science.”
“Okay, now I’m completely lost.”
“Quantum Holdings is the company that owned the building where Zoe Symanski died. The same company that owns two other properties nearby, now in default. Turns out Quantum Holdings is the company controlling the NDAs that employees of the Renacido Center are locked in to, and Planck Holdings, owns the center. Well, the building, anyway, so this is all one big connected mess. And I’d bet, Wykell’s name is on every one of the articles of organizations for these LLCs and that the same mailing service address is in use as well.”
Brynn sat back in the chair and chewed the corner of her lip. “Okay. So, things must not be going too well financially if three of the properties in their portfolio ended up in foreclosure,” she said.
“Or they needed cash. Or they changed tactics and needed to scratch the plans they had for Pierce Street,” I said, turning my attention back to the computer.
“Why not just sell the properties if they needed cash?”
“Exactly. That would have been the logical next step. Generally speaking, going the foreclosure route means they tried to sell and couldn’t find a buyer before the bank was at the door changing the locks. But that doesn’t make sense to me. Humboldt Park is one of the hottest investments in the city. They should have been able to sell these in heartbeat.”
“So why the foreclosure, then?”
“I don’t know. But there are two reasons companies are set up using all this layering—different names, different organizational structure—to obscure the owner’s identity or to isolate risk. And they aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“So Quantum Holdings could appear to be broke, while Planck has all the assets. Do you think another rehab center was planned for those properties?”
“It’s as good a guess as any. So the question is, what fell apart? If they decided to give up the real estate, that means they’d scrapped the plan or run into an obstacle.” Walking away from the real estate was confusing me. It seemed a pointless financial move, and at its core, this was about money.
“Maybe the reason they bolted isn’t relevant,” Brynn said. “Wykell seemed to believe he was on the verge of a financial breakthrough, even without the properties, so maybe the additional treatment centers weren’t essential, or not essential right now. Or maybe it’s as simple as a permit problem. After all, the city of Chicago can be a strange bedfellow.”
“That could be it. That could be why they walked away,” I said to Brynn, a new thought coming to the forefront. “Maybe it’s not a permit problem but a partner problem. Someone behind the scenes exerting pressure. Or maybe they had a falling out, and walking away from the mortgage payments was damage control or someone’s idea of a hissy fit? Continue with the financial piece,” I said to Brynn. “Look for an investment or a loan history associated with any of these entities. I’m going to work on people. Wykell wasn’t in this alone.”
My fingers were flying, clicking on links, sorting data, trying to find a connection from Renacido, Planck, or Quantum to another individual. I was convinced Wykell wasn’t alone in this venture, but no new names were surfacing, so I went to the second tier, plugging in Darna Ocampo, Francesca, the administrator, Levi, and even Zoe, while Brynn worked across the desk. The room was silent other than the click of our respective keyboards.
Five pages in a small news article caught my attention, and I clicked through. “Three years ago, Levi Vinson was picked up coming back into the US after a trip to Mexico,” I said to Brynn. “He had a stash of heroin in a pocket of his backpack, which one of the TSA dogs alerted on. And here’s the kicker. The attorney that defended Levi is a guy named Stephan Reda.”
“That’s a familiar name. Wasn’t he associated with that property your sister bought?”
“He was the contact the bank named when I asked about the foreclosure history. He’s also the attorney who threatened to bankrupt the Mosiers if they tried to prosecute Renacido.”
“I think we just found our drug mule,” I added. “I’d bet money that Levi Vinson’s passport is full of ink.”
A text from Cai popped up. Darna’s locked down. Can you get over here?
Darna Ocampo sat huddled on the side of a conference table with a thirtyish man in a suit when I entered the room. Her body seemed to have shrunk inches in the hours since I’d last seen her. Her skin, lacking makeup, seemed even more pasty and transparent than normal. She looked up, nodding silently.
Cai introduced me to her associate, then directed me to a seat across the table before leaving the room.
“Ms. Ocampo has provided me with an overview of the situation at the Renacido Center as she knows it, as well as her personal role in their activities,” the attorney said. “We understand that the situation is developing and that no charges have been filed. However, Ms. Ocampo has agreed to answer some of your questions in a desire to help prevent any future injury to patients. We ask that you refrain from publication of anything you learn from this conversation until such time as we can determine if there is a role for law enforcement.”
“No, I’m not agreeing, I’m insisting,” Darna interrupted, shooting a stern look at her attorney. He nodded.
“Agreed,” I said. “For the sake of efficiency, could we focus on the treatment protocol today and come back to other issues at another time?”
Darna nodded. If I could get Darna on record confirming my suspicions about ibogaine, I could get the center shut down, buying time to unearth money and people.
“Do you agree to be recorded during this conversation?”
Darna looked at the attorney, who gave his consent, so I hit my recording app.
“The Renacido Center bills itself as having developed a groundbreaking treatment protocol for opioid addiction. You’ve been an integral part of administering that treatment. Are you familiar with the components involved?” I asked.
“Yes, the program involves several stages—medical evaluation, detox, a series of medication-assisted treatments, and cognitive behavior treatments that then integrate the prior steps for long-lasting results,” she replied.
“And what stages have you been involved in personally?”
“I’m involved at all stages. Others, Dr. Wykell primarily, handle the cognitive behavior work, but I’m monitoring patients throughout their time at the center.”
“Are medications used during detox?”
“To some extent. We give IV fluids, and we provide nutritional support in most cases. Certain drugs drain the body of nutrients, causing imbalances that can interfere with healing. For example, depression is often a problem that contributes to addiction and presents during recovery. We can treat that with Omega-3s and B12. Supplements alone won’t solve the problem, but getting the nutrient levels back up helps everything else work. If pain management is a problem,” she continued, “we can use medications such as methadone.”
“Talk to me about ‘medication-assisted treatment.’ That is the phrase you used.”
Darna looked down at the table for a moment, then at her attorney. If she was having second thoughts, they were raging in her now.
“Weeks two and three are the core of the program. Each Monday, patients who are in that stage are installed in a room in the carriage house, hooked up to a saline IV, and then given a dose of what Dr. Wykell calls Renewal 1. A dose of Renewal 2 is given the following week.”
“And what is in that?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at her and crossed my arms over my chest. “Ms. Ocampo, I thought you were here to cooperate. Are you really going to sit here and tell me you are administering drugs and you don’t know what they are?”
“I don’t know officially. Wykell brings it in from a lab somewhere else. They’re capsules. Containers are already labeled.” She looked at the attorney again. “About a year ago I overheard Dr. Wykell on the phone. Two words stood out to me, ibogaine and MDMA.”
“What’s MDMA?”
“The street name is Molly. What I believe, but can’t prove, is that one dose is ibogaine, the other is MDMA, and that the combined effects of using both drugs are what give results. And by the way, I do believe the treatment works. I’ve seen it work, even if the drugs aren’t legal yet. I’m not someone just standing by passing out evil. We’re helping people who can’t get help any other way.” Tears were pooling in her eyes and her voice was choked with emotion.
“So how do you explain the death of Paul Macanas? Paul was under your care when he died, likely on one of these drugs at the time.”
I could see the attorney tense. I was stepping into culpability territory.
“After I heard Dr. Wykell mention ibogaine, I did some research. I wasn’t familiar with it. Ibogaine has caused death in some cases, but there was always an underlying medical problem—other drugs in the system, heart issues—so I made sure that my screening process was more detailed. I didn’t tell Dr. Wykell. I just did what I thought was right. The only answer I have is that Paul must not have been honest on his health questionnaire.”
Zoe and Owen were also on my mind, but there would be time to explore those situations after I’d gotten Wykell behind bars.
“I assume you have access to the two Renewal products. Would you be willing to provide samples to CPD for testing? We’ll need to confirm the presence of the illegal ingredients.”
“Of course. Do you need me to get them secretly?”
“Let me speak with my contact at CPD before I answer that. Do nothing for now. It’s better that Dr. Wykell isn’t suspicious.”
A text pinged my phone.
Cn u get me out? K.