A task force that consisted of seven full time officers was formed to crack the Avery Snobli murder case. E-mail and private telephone lines allowed hundreds of leads to pour into the Neshaminy police station. None of the calls identified the killer, though.
The medical examiner’s report stated that there was a two- inch hematoma contusion in Snobli’s temporal lobe, along with one .25 caliber shell casing.
At the crime scene, investigators found a credit card receipt from a nearby gas station under the body. Video surveillance from the Mobile gas station produced no credible leads. The credit card owner had bought gas. Through an interview, the grandmother whose card it was, was dismissed as a suspect, considering she had been taking her grandchildren to the movies and she had no motive to kill Snobli.
“McKenzey, there’s a call on line one for you,” yelled a cranky duty officer, whom was tired of taking calls.
“McKenzey,” he answered in a business like manner. After listening to the caller a few moments, DEA Agent, Lucas McKenzey scrambled to find a pen to write down the informant’s information. After a ten minute probe, he disconnected from the tipster.
“Andre Bezel commited the murder. Black male, from King of Prussia. According to the source, he is at his grandmother’s hiding in Philadelphia.”
***
About an hour later, Jean-Mary heard an insistent banging on her front door. She scrambled to it, all ready to curse out the inconsiderate jerk that acted like a policeman. She opened the front door and did a double take when she saw a white man in a suit. He was backed up by four uniformed officers with their guns drawn.
“We need Andre Jamel Bezel at once.”
Jean-Mary calmly asked, “Sir, do you have a warrant?” She had learned from Dope’s arrest to never allow the cops into her home lacking a warrant.
“Well, no...”
McKenzey could not finish his statement because Jean- Mary had begun to close the door in his face. It was a bold move considering the guns. McKenzey countered by pushing open the door, knocking her to the floor, as he and the other officers penetrated the home.
The cops immediately encountered Tasha, who they commanded to sit on the sofa. Jean-Mary was helped up and ordered to the sofa, as well.
“Where is he?” McKenzey hissed, ignoring Tasha’s tears.
Jean-Mary was mad as a mutha-fucka and ready to act the hell up. Dre stopped her, though.
“Hey! Police I’m coming down. Leave my peoples alone!”
McKenzey yelled for him to come down the stairs on his knees. Backwards, and crawling like an animal. Dre felt like a two-dollar-hoe, but he did it. At the bottom of the stairs, he was slammed down and frisked for a weapon.
Jean-Mary blurted out, “That was so damn unnecessary. Assholes!”
“Ma’am...”
“Ma’am my ass. You have him now get out of my house.” Dre could not believe that Kareem had turned him in. His
own flesh and blood. His little brother. He was thrown into the back of a unmarked car while McKenzey gave a press conference on Jean-Mary’s lawn.
***
Kareem looked on from a neighbor’s window at his brother being hauled away. He smiled and rubbed his hands together.