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Ventura PD
Friday afternoon
April 14, 2012
10:00 a.m.
Captain Stone sat impatiently in his office mulling over the success of the deterrence of the gangs over the funeral but fidgeting over the loss of another life. It had been two days since the body of Black Moon had been found along side the 101 Freeway and her parents were due to arrive today. This was never a good time to be a cop and Stone had summoned his best detective this morning to help break the ice with the girl’s parents.
Jane Amy Summers was her real name but after hooking up with the Stingrays she became Black Moon. A small-town girl from Clear Lake, Iowa known mainly for the day the music died in 1959. Clear Lake was where a small plane crashed into a field carrying three rock and roll stars to their deaths. Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper were immortalized in the Don Mclean song “American Pie.” This was the only thing Clear Lake was remembered for and now it had something else in common for the Ventura PD anyway, Death.
Stone thought as he watched out the window of his office that today was going to be a big day. Lots of new information was forthcoming from the coroner and forensics about the case which now involved two killings and seemed to broadening rather than moving to the narrow stream of things. He watched out the window for his detective and he glanced at the ocean in the background of the parking lot. Even the therapeutic tides rolling in and out were not working their magic this day. He was hoping CB Potenza would be on his game because he needed the support.
Potenza could see the Captain standing and looking out his window as he drove into the parking lot. It was unusual for his superior to be in that position. He’d usually be at his desk or hanging over the coffee pot but seeing him staring out, a cold figure, Johnny Potenza knew things were not the brightest around the station house.
He threw up a high right arm as if to say “hey chief” as he drove in. He saw a smirk run across the Captain’s face and he knew he’d made an impression. Potenza felt he’d at least given Stone a moment of relief.
“Lt. Vincent, get in here,” Stone yelled with a gruffness which said he had moved past the sullenness of the last hour. “Potenza, get your ass in here too.”
Things were moving to the positive side now. Both officers swiftly entered the Captain’s office to begin a morning that would turn into a momentous day. A day in which things were about to change, progress was about to be made.
“All right, you both know about the bad news, the girl’s parents are coming today to take the body home,” Stone pointed out to his detectives. “They’re small-town folks from Iowa, she was their only child and they haven’t seen her in about three years. Let’s make it as easy on them as possible.”
The two officers both nodded as if to say they knew exactly what he was talking about, and it would be up to them to make sure none of them said anything out of line. Keep your mouth shut unless you have something positive to say. Don’t invite any questions but if they ask, answer as politely and with as much tact as possible. This was small town Ventura talking to small town Clear Lake. “We can do this” they both thought.
“Secondly we have lots of good news on both murders,” added Stone. “We really caught a break.”
Potenza was now on the edge of his seat. This was what he was waiting for, hard evidence and possible motive. It was about time.
“We have motive men, at least in the Rodriguez murder,” Stone answered with a smile on his face. “It was definitely revenge for the deaths of the three Stingrays.”
Revenge thought Potenza was a no brainer, this he had figured, but how was Rodriguez tied to it?
“I know you are wondering what happened well here it is in a nutshell,” said Stone holding up a small vial of green paint. “Rodriguez it seems killed all three men with a lethal dose of paint from his tattoo gun.”
Stone went on to explain what some would call the Napoleon Bonaparte factor. Rodriguez had come up with a form of Scheele’s Green paint which was originally invented by a Swedish chemist by the name of Scheele. Scheele had invented a new color pigment in the 18th Century using a solution of copper sulphate mixed with a solution of sodium arsenate.
This is the same situation which is believed to have hastened the death of Napoleon while in exile. The paint was used in the wallpaper. Mixed with the dampness of the region a mould was created and when the mould mixed with the pigment created by Scheele, it gave off a vapor which is deadly if inhaled.
“Rodriguez added the paint to a touch of mold, and this being seaside Ventura, mold is easy to acquire, and he put this into an ink called Green Apple Skin Candy,” explained Stone. “If it’s deadly enough to inhale, can you imagine being injected under the skin by a small prick of the skin while creating the tattoo?”
“Ingenious, artfully ingenious,” Potenza remarked sitting back in his chair. “This guy was no dummy, but that still doesn’t explain what his ultimate motive was in killing off the older Stingrays.”
All three men concluded there had to be something else to get the Bull Dogs involved with the Stingrays in such a manner.
“Well one thing for sure is Grister found out about it somewhere along the way and put two and two together and made sure Rodriguez paid for it with his life,” pointed out the senior detective. “How did forensics come up with that one by the way?”
“Black light,” Stone responded. “Seems this paint Rodriguez used as a base, this ‘skin candy’ stuff is fluorescent and only shows up under a black light.”
Potenza thought about the 1970’s for a moment when the black light was all the rage in clubs and everything else. He never thought a tattoo would be at the heart of it all.
“We never did get permission on the third body but the two we did get gave us enough evidence to make the hit,” Stone added. “Unfortunately, or fortunately if you like, there won’t be a trial for those murders because the killer is already dead, courtesy of the Stingrays.”
The key to the green paint situation was even more ingenious than the officers realized at first because while the paint took its toll in a matter of a few days or weeks, depending on the stamina of the man who received it, death still seemed to be of natural causes. Therefore, there would be no autopsy. Rodriguez was no dummy except somewhere along the way he slipped up. It didn’t matter how or where; he just did and it led to his death.
The detectives figured it this way. For some reason the Bulldogs were infiltrating the Stingrays. While Rodriguez was passing himself off as a loyal biker in Ventura, he was slowly killing off some of the older members of the gang, the guys with the power.
“The records you pulled from the tattoo shop showed all three men had gotten tattoos with the green paint in the last few months,” said Vincent looking directly at Potenza. “All three were tattooed by Rodriguez. He had the access, and he did the deed.”
Grister somehow caught on to what was happening and had him killed. Proving this link however was going to be difficult. He could have ordered the hit and had Slash do it, maybe it was the girl, or another member, or a contract hit. Either way tying George Grister to the death of Hot Rod Rodriguez was going to be tricky. Something else had to break.
“Any word on the gun used in the two killings Cappy?” Potenza asked flippantly.
“Yes, funny you should ask,” answered Vincent. “I can take that one; I just got the word from ballistics. Both bullets were from the same gun. With Rodriguez the bullet was fired after he died. On the girl, we’re not sure yet and it may take awhile. Thus, no murder connection to the gun, just a misdemeanor mutilating of a dead body. At least on Rodriguez.”
“Which the DA won’t prosecute,” Potenza shot back.
“Correct.”
“So, we’re back to square one on the gun?” Potenza asked politely.
With that out of the way the three men all knew what was next: the girl. Potenza felt personally responsible because Grister caught him with the girl looking through the records. She had done the right thing and she knew there was going to be hell to pay for it but she did it anyway. Potenza felt he had let her down somewhat by opening the door for her to cooperate and she did.
Just then the phone on Captain Stone’s desk rang.
“Captain Stone here,” he answered. “Yes, chief, uh huh, yes, we were just discussing the case, I have Potenza and Vincent in my office. Yes. Oh Shit! Yes sir, thank you sir. Later today, thank you sir.”
The officers both sat stunned as Stone dropped to his seat and leaned back staring at the ceiling.
“What’s up Cap?” Potenza asked with an obvious urgency in his voice.
The captain sighed and leaned forward. He put his hands over the back of his head and leaned forward on his elbows.
“You’re not going to believe this one,” he said in a straight tone. “The girl, Black Moon, Jane Amy Summers? She was a federal agent working undercover. FBI.”
The other officers were stunned. Neither could believe what they were hearing. This girl looked like she was barely 18 but was obviously much older. A Fed working undercover in a tattoo shop in Ventura? Why? To what end?
Potenza felt like a ton of bricks had just fallen on him. No wonder she cooperated, and she played the game out straight. She didn’t give him up, she played her string out just like she was supposed to, knowing her life was in danger and she never made a move to give anything up. And now she was dead. Potenza thought he couldn’t feel any worse than he did a few moments ago but he was wrong. He sunk to a new low on this one.
“Federal agents from L-A are coming up this afternoon for a meeting with us to see what we have,” Stone said. “Anything you aren’t telling me; I don’t want any surprises here?’
“No Cap, nothing, I just find it so hard to believe,” Potenza responded. “Her parents had to know, at least about her being an agent.”
“We’re going to find out soon,” the captain pointed out. “They’ll be here shortly after lunch. I want you both to be here when they arrive. I also want you both here when the FBI gets here later this afternoon.”
The two officers indicated they would return later in the day. In the meantime, Potenza needed to see his sister about Carlos’s offer. He turned and walked out of the captain’s office still in a semi state of shock. This was not what he had planned for his plate when he got up this morning.
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DOWNTOWN VENTURA
Friday morning
April 14, 2012
11:00 a.m.
The drive downtown was a short one, but the day was already looking gorgeous as the sun rose high in the sky putting an orange streak across the ocean which grew shorter as the clock moved toward noon. Soon it would be lunch time but not before Johnny Potenza had a chat with his younger sister. He pulled up to the front of the shop gladly seeing no one inside but Maria and Mary Latoure.
Mary was looking fine today thought the officer and he was in a bit of need. Somewhat depressed due to the morning’s findings CB Potenza needed a boost and for him this usually meant the release of sexual energy. He tried to hide his thoughts because more important things were on his mind and had to take place.
“Maria,” he greeted his sister with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “We have to talk, can we go into the back room here, no offense Mary.”
“None taken Johnny, but I think you’ll find out there are no secrets here,” Mary quipped back.
“Yeh, it’s okay Johnny, Mary knows what’s going on,” Maria added.
“Okay, then, here is the deal, you are in danger, and I can’t do what I have to do with you in the middle,” he laid out the game plan for her. “I’ve arranged with Carlos for you to stay with him in Carp for a few nights, or as long as it takes, until this thing blows over.”
Maria looked at him with a stern eye.
“You arranged for me to stay with Cousin Carlos, you arranged?” She questioned.
Potenza knew this was not going to be easy. Maria thought of herself as very independent and his putting his nose in where she didn’t think it belonged, well, this wasn’t going to fly.
“C’mon Maria it’s only for a few days and just until I get some things straightened out,” he was pleading now.
“I think he’s right Maria, I really do,” Mary said putting her words behind John’s. “Besides it might be fun, and you’ve always said you needed a couple days off and leaving me running the shop will be fine. You know you can trust me.”
Maria thought about it for a minute or so and looked back and forth at the two of them as she did. Then she walked around the room, stared out the window, looked up and down the street, turned around to look at them again.
“Just for a few days?”
“Right just for a few days, until I get some of the heat off,” John responded.
“Well, it may be fun at that since I haven’t seen Carlos in a couple years,” she said. “He still lives a block from the water, right?”
John nodded with a smile.
“Okay then, let’s do it, I can use the vacation!”
A huge smile ran across Potenza’s face. This was easier than he thought. He went on to explain how it would be safer for him to pick her up at her house and take her to Mary’s as if they were going to dinner at Mary’s home. Potenza knew he was going to pick up a tail from the Stingrays once word got out that the dead woman was a federal agent and this he knew was starting to filter out. The newspapers would not let this one go and they would have an afternoon edition coming out shortly. The paper only printed PM cycles and let the L-A newspapers pick up the morning cycle.
Once John, Maria and Mary sat down to dinner Carlos would park half a block away down the back alley behind Mary’s. John would sneak Maria out the back way, lead her to Carlos and she would hide in the back seat as he drove off to Carp. It would all work fine. Once back in the house Potenza would finish dinner and spend some time with Mary before heading off for the night. If he left about midnight by himself the watchers would likely think Maria was spending the night at her friend’s home. Meanwhile Potenza had arranged for a close patrol by a black and white throughout the night and morning hours to keep an eye on Mary in case the Stingrays tried something. It would work like a charm.
“Okay, I’ll pick you up at 6 o’clock tonight,” her brother told Maria.
“Wait what about my clothes,” she thought out loud. “I can’t carry a suitcase; they’ll know something is up.”
“Just pack a bag before you leave the house and put it inside the doorway,” said Mary. “Leave a key on the porch and after you leave and they follow, Carlos can drop by and pick up the bag.”
Maria and John looked at Mary as if to say, “when did you become a cop?”
“What? I watch a lot of TV, CSI,” Mary answered back.
The three of them all laughed realizing Mary really didn’t know what she was getting herself into. She was willing and besides she really was a good cook.
“Good it’s a date then,” John said looking at both girls.
“A date and a rain check, Johnny,” Mary said coyly remembering the previous night they spent with the cop staying up all night keeping an eye on things.
“I was hoping you’d remember,” Potenza said with a slight grin.
She only smiled. The officer felt good about what was happening. This was a pick me up from just an hour ago. He was doing the right thing with his sister, and he was going to spend the evening with a lovely doll who wanted to spend the night with him. Things were definitely looking up.
He headed for his car and stopped on the sidewalk outside the shop. It hit him then he was just a short walk away from the tattoo parlor. Should he or should he not? He stood there for a moment pondering whether to pay a visit to Grister’s tattoo parlor or should he go to lunch and back to the office. His smarts got the better of his ego. Potenza understood going into the parlor and announcing to Grister that his former employee, who was now dead was really a Federal Agent, would do his own ego well. The officer wanted to see the look on Grister’s face with that announcement.
Then again, his own feelings aside there was a meeting coming up with the agents who knew Jane Amy Summers best, her colleagues. The cop understood real police work had to come first and what he would find out at the meeting would be more important for the case. What would happen if he blew it, blew what she had learned just because his ego wanted stroking?
Officer John Potenza got back into his car and drove off. Fish tacos sounded good for the moment. There was a little place less than a mile from there where he could get some really fresh fish tacos with a little Tapatia to spice up the taste just a bit. This was his reward for doing the right thing instead of the ego thing. Two meetings were next, one he was looking forward to, the other with the parents he was not. Police work had its downfalls.
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VENTURA PD
Friday afternoon
April 14, 2012
1:45 p.m.
The worst thing about being a police officer is dealing with the family of victims. Most policemen will tell you facing a gun is one thing, but it happens in a split second. You do it or you don’t. You live or die by your reactions. Facing the father or mother of a child or young adult victim is another thing entirely.
What do you say? You usually have plenty of time to think about it. Time is the worst part of the job because it often means you over think the situation. You say things you planned to say and not the true emotion which comes from the heart and soul when dealing with death. It’s like going to a funeral and telling the wife “he was a good man,” or “he’s in a better place now,” or that always reliable “there will always be a part of him in all of us.”
None of this means anything especially if he was a colleague or as in most cases a victim the officer hardly knew. In John Potenza’s case it was even worse. He barely knew Jane Summers and when he did, he didn’t have the knowledge she was a law enforcement officer and he felt responsible somehow for her death. His only saving grace is her death was swift and she wasn’t attacked. If she had been raped or tortured, he wasn’t sure if he could live with it. A previous experience barely allowed him to keep his sanity. Now this.
Potenza walked over to the conference room where victims usually met with police officers to go over what happens next, and if there was an unsolved crime where the investigation was at the moment. The officer could see the older couple, obviously the parents standing near a table conversing with Captain Stone. They saw him coming and Stone opened the door.
“C’mon in detective,” he said ushering Potenza in as Potenza moved to greet the parents. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Summers, Jane’s parents.”
“Nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Summers, I only wish it were under different circumstances,” Potenza said with a heart felt tone. “Jane was a good officer, and it pains all of us to know it ended this way.”
The parents hugged each other and looked Potenza right in the eye.
“Officer I understand you were the last one to see her alive,” the mother stated.
“Yes, yes I was.”
“Tell me, was she doing her job, was she working to catch the bad guys?” She inquired. “Because that is all she ever wanted to do, was to catch the bad guys and put them away for a long time.”
The officer was taken aback by the question because it was not what he anticipated. The family of Jane Summers obviously knew she was a career person and dedicated which is what he saw when the agent gave him the records right in front of Grister.
“She was Mrs. Summers, I can honestly say she was,” the officer consoled the woman. “She kept her cool under fire, she played out the scene the way she was supposed to and she knew she was putting her life in danger but she didn’t give up her position. She did exactly what you would expect her to do.”
“Good,” the old woman responded. “Janie would have liked to have heard that.”
The old man stepped up to shake his hand.
“You make it sound like a movie, officer, our Janie was a big fan of the movies,” he said with a half grin turning to near tears. “Did you know she got a scholarship to USC Film School but turned it down to go to law school?”
Both Potenza and Stone looked at each other and with half smiles on their faces confirming to each other this was a special agent.
“No, I didn’t,” replied Stone. “She was something very special and even though we did not know her obviously as well as you or her brother agents did, we felt she was a special part of us here too. She will always be remembered here certainly.”
The parents turned to go when the father stopped and turned to Potenza one last time.
“She was a good girl, my sweetie,” he said with a combination of anger and tears running down his cheeks. “Get the guys that did this to my baby, get them real good.”
“We will sir, we will,” Potenza responded ushering them out the door to a waiting police woman who would take them to the next step. They had to fill out a lot of forms and they were going to take the girl’s body back to Iowa for proper burial. Her long journey was only beginning on her way to the end stop. Both officers felt relieved the parents understood and they didn’t delve further into the case. Potenza’s fears of being confronted by the parents were over. The next step? Meeting with her ‘brother agents’ and this would not be as easy.
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VENTURA PD
Friday afternoon
April 14, 2012
2:59 p.m.
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THE CALL CAME FOR DETECTIVE John Potenza to come to the conference room again, a meeting was about to take place. He swiftly got up, adjusted himself and his clothes and smoothly made his way back to the conference room where Stone, Lt. Vincent and three other men in suits awaited his arrival. Feds were easy to spot. The suits gave them away every time.
“Good afternoon, John,” Vincent said as he opened the door for his friend and colleague.
The agents moved toward Potenza as Captain Stone made the introductions.
“Detective Potenza this is Agent Miles, Agent Johnson and Special Agent Thompson, gentleman Detective John Potenza,” Stone ushered around the greetings. “These men are from the L-A office, but I believe Agent Miles here is from Washington, am I right?”
“Yes sir, I’m here from the Washington bureau as a special liaison so to speak, to make sure all the ‘i’s’ get dotted and the ‘t’s’ get crossed in the murder of Agent Summers,” said the FBI man. “Now shall we get started?”
The six men all sat down at the long brown table with curved edges. Coffee pots and cups at each end and a stack of glasses next to a water jug. Potenza, knowing he was going to be the target of the questioning, poured himself some water to wet down his dry throat. Agent Johnson was the first to speak.
“Now the way we see it Officer Potenza you were the last law enforcement officer to see Agent Summers alive, am I correct?”
“Yes, you are, it was at the tattoo shop where she was working undercover, which we did not know about by the way,” Potenza said taking the initiative away from the Federal agent. “We had staged a distraction so we could go in and get some records we needed to take our murder case to the next level, and she was there still working inside.”
The agent at first ignored Potenza’s comment about the lack of cooperation between the agencies and continued to probe the last meeting between the agent and the cop.
“Did you have a warrant?”
“We most certainly did and Agent Summers knew this and to her credit she got the documents and handed them right over to me, but unfortunately the owner of the shop, George Grister, who is also head of the Stingrays biker gang, walked in at that very moment.”
Potenza sat stone faced as he answered the questions and offered up what he thought was needed. There was always a bit of friction between local cops and federal agents. He realized it was there and tried hard to make sure he cooperated.
“Was there a confrontation between you and this Mr. Grister and how was Agent Summers involved?”
Potenza went on to describe the scene for the agent leaving out no details. He made a point several times of complimenting the female agent for keeping her cover. Potenza remarked upon her professionalism and bravery and how she played out her part right to the end and how it probably led to her death.
“This is a death which could have been avoided gentlemen if the government had let us in on the fact you were running an investigation in our town,” interrupted Captain Stone. “We could have provided extra protection for the agent had we known she was an agent. After all this is our town and we know all the nooks and crannies.”
The agents were all put back on their heels with Stone’s comments.
“Perhaps in the future the situation might provide itself with a little more mutual aid,” Agent Miles spoke out.
“Perhaps it will gentlemen,” Stone shot back.
Stone was obviously angry the Feds didn’t trust the local police to be forewarned about an ongoing investigation. This was a problem, and the reason most local cops don’t trust federal agents of any kind, FBI, ATF, Secret Service and of course CIA. The federal men were more than likely going to run rough shod over the local cops, pissing them off in the meantime.
“What were you guys investigating anyway?” Potenza pointedly asked.
“Well, I guess at this point it’s not too late to let you in on part of it,” Agent Johnson replied. “The drug trade was key in our investigation as you probably guessed. A lot of motorcycle gangs have been moving toward each other to consolidate the drug trafficking through a central base of operations in Mexico and another one in Columbia. Our fear is that if these gangs, usually rivals, were to work together it would mean a whole lot of trouble for all of us.”
“The Warriors,” Vincent stated as he sat back in his chair and looked down at his interlocked fingers.
“I beg your pardon?” Agent Johnson offered up.
“The Warriors, it’s a cult classic film from the seventies,” Vincent came back. “In the film all the gangs in New York City were being brought together under a single gang leader named Cyrus or something like that. The idea was if one man could unite 30 or 40 gangs and control them, they could run the city, even one as big as New York. The mafia be damned, the gangs would rule.”
“Yeh, I remember that film,” Agent Miles added. “Deborah Van Valkenburgh played a whore in that movie before she went on to that comedy show with Ted Knight.”
“That’s the one,” Vincent said with a smile. “You know your trivia.”
“Lots of late-night reruns with Alex Trebek and Jeopardy.”
“Oh, and it’s Ted Baxter, ‘Too Close for Comfort’,” Potenza added. “I had a thing for Deborah Van Valkenburgh. She was the only reason I watched the show.”
“You too?” Miles asked. “Most guys had a thing for the blond, but I loved the dark haired chick, man oh man, I really thought she was hot.”
Potenza found some common ground with the agent even if it was their shared love for a movie star.
“I remember the line in The Warriors when she was trying to get on the good side of the guy who played the lead,” Vincent chipped in. “It was something like ‘why don’t you just carry a mattress on your back?’”
Both Potenza and Agent Miles shot quick glances at the lieutenant, surprised he was joining in. Vincent puffed himself up as if to say, ‘see I can play this game.’
“I wonder what she’s doin’ now because I’d really like to hook up with her, ya know,” Potenza said leaning back with a smile. “Man I thought she was bitchin’, mercy she was bitchin’.”
“’Mercy’, that was the name of the character she played in the “The Warriors,” Vincent replied. “Mercy, that’s it.”
“Can we get back to police work here and get off the movie trivia merry-go-round?” Stone yelled as the men all straightened up at the sound of his roar. Miles looked over to Potenza as he did and mouthed the words “really bitchin’.” Potenza grinned back knowing the agent agreed, they were both in love with the star they would probably never meet. The other officers in the room all looked at the two men with amazement.
“Anyway,” Agent Johnson began again. “We were investigating the drug trade looking for anything to bring us some information and Agent Summers was pretty close to scoring some good intel when this happened. We were expecting a contact from her this week regarding some hard-core information.”
Potenza sat back in his chair again before leaning forward to speak out.
“I’m not sure where this leads us to in our case and I don’t think what we have in the way of a murder investigation dove tails your case either,” he said looking at Agent Miles. “So where do we go from here?”
It was a moment of truth for all concerned. None of them knew exactly where the two cases intermingled if they did. It was not looking as if they were connected. The murder of Rodriguez seemed to be revenge motivated for the killings of three Stingrays via the tattoo gun, nothing more. But still there was the issue of why the Bulldogs were infiltrating the Stingrays with Rodriguez in the first place. It didn’t make sense because it didn’t seem this was related to the drug trade issue the feds were looking into.
“I’m not sure they are related in any way at all, not at all,” Agent Johnson spoke up first. “I would hope you guys would tip us off if you came across something which might be interesting to our investigation. There is one more thing.”
The local cops looked intently on the agent as he put his head down to find the words.
“We believe there is a local official either inside your department or close by who is involved in some way, but we don’t know who,” the agent offered to the startled looks of the three cops. “Agent Summers was on the verge of finding out who that was, and we expected to find out this week until this unfortunate turn of events.”
Potenza was stunned as was Stone. Someone within the department or close by? Who would have the ties to the gangs and be obviously profiting from it enough to turn his back on his brothers and become a criminal? A dirty cop? A corrupt public official? Who and where were the big questions now?
Stone looked directly at the agent from Washington and pointed a strong right finger.
“In other words you weren’t going to be polite enough to involve us regarding your investigation in our yard and in our own department maybe, but you want our help now that yours has gone to shit, am I right agent?” He said firmly.
The agent took umbrage at the accusation by Stone and leaned forward hard on the desktop.
“It went to shit because of your involvement and one of our agents is dead because of it,” he shouted back.
Officer John Potenza lost his considerable cool at this point. He lunged across the table at the agent and went face to face, nose to nose.
“She wouldn’t be dead if you’d let us know she was working for you,” he demanded. “Yes, I feel partially responsible. She a dead agent, a dead person, a dead woman cop and you want to lay that on me. Well, fuck you! She’s dead because you can’t trust the local cops to do our job and that’s it. Now if you want us to help you we will, but don’t ever come back in here and give us this shit about we’re responsible. You have her blood on your hands just as much as I do and hopefully I’ll be able to sleep tonight. I’m sure you will find it easy enough.”
With that he stormed out of the room slamming the door behind him. The glass in the door shattered from the blow and the men inside the office went flying from the exploding glass.
Officer John Potenza had made his feelings known. He wasn’t going to be messed with and for a really cool and slow to anger guy, his boiling point had been reached. He went back to his desk, gathered his gun and a few other things, and stomped out of the building looking at Ms. Toyota as he did.
“Hold my calls baby; I’m going to the shooting range.”
She nodded with a smile.
He needed to blow off some steam before his encounter tonight with Maria, Mary and Carlos. He figured there would be some villains in suits as cardboard cutouts on the range. Potenza needed to squeeze off a few rounds before taking care of business tonight.
The spot where police discovered the bloated body washed up onto the shore near Seaward Street in Ventura.
Surfer's Point where Det. Potenza finds his solace and
ponders the clues to solving the Tattoo Murder case.
Zig Zag Gun
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Louie Sanchez, the Godfather of the Avenue outside Cantina Sanchez, where Det. Potenza's best friend kept track of everything and anything the cops needed to know.
Cemetery Park where the graves of the dead bikers were removed and the same area where the Bulldogs planned to ride past for Rodriguez funeral but were blocked by Capt. Stone's plan. Notice the small headstone in the foreground.
The old Mission San BuenaVentura where the funeral of Rodriguez took place. Note the signs blocking off the street as the cops tried to separate rival biker gangs to keep the peace.
High grass where another body was found.
The tattoo artist’s gun.
(Note: the bottle of green ink was discovered laced with arsenic.)
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Downtown Ventura where Detective John Potenza spends a lot of time and where his sister Maria plies her trade with a hair and nail salon.
An ominous sign the Tattoo Parlor wasn't the friendliest place to be in Ventura. Note the Green Ink, which Det. Potenza later discovered was laced with arsenic.
The getaway boat at the Harbor. Notice the speed boats in the foreground used for Grister's plan.
The night waves were calling.