Corrupt City. Tra Verdejo
very large clientele list, and Robert helped us figure out who were the cocaine customers and who weren’t. His VIP customers either owned or ran Fortune 500 companies. He was averaging about one million dollars a week, since he didn’t deal with small-time customers. To buy drugs from him, you also had to use his mailing services. That’s how he was able to stay under the radar and make his business look legit. We also learned he made out-of-state deliveries as far as California and Las Vegas. He was larger than what we’d originally thought. Robert agreed to wear a wire, but things got ugly quickly. Two days later after our meeting with him, he was found dead in an alley, and Mr. G disappeared.”
“What do you mean, he disappeared?” Johnson asked.
“He was gone. After Robert got murdered, Mr. G and his files disappeared.”
“Wait a second, Donald. How can your main suspect, his operation, and all the evidence you had on him disappear?”
“That’s a good question.”
“What do you think happened?” Johnson asked.
“I object, Your Honor. He’s not an expert witness. He is asking him for his opinion.”
“Overruled. Though he’s not an expert, he was part of the investigation and has firsthand knowledge on the matter. I think his opinion does count in this matter.”
“When we started to carefully read the list and check out some of these VIP customers, too many important names were surfacing. We are talking CEOs, VPs, and politicians. My honest gut feeling, these people were able to pay their way out.”
“I object, Your Honor. Witness is speculating, based on hearsay.”
“Sustained.”
“You didn’t make any money off these deals?” Johnson asked.
“Not off the Mr. G case. I never received one dime. I was told to erase the whole operation from my mind.”
“By who? Who said erase it from your mind?”
“My captain.” Lucky pointed at William.
“How much money you think they made?”
“I object, Your Honor!” Matthew shouted.
“Withdrawn, Your Honor,” Johnson shot back before the judge gave his ruling. He walked back to his desk and consulted with his assistants. He was getting ready to ask about the night in question.
Lucky took advantage of the break and poured himself another glass of cold water. He knew the heat was coming.
Johnson waited for Lucky to finish his glass of water before he proceeded with his case.
“Mr. Gibson, tell us about the night Perry Coleman died. What really happened? Do you remember that night?”
“How can I forget? It still haunts me at night. Anyway, we were all having drinks at this strip club called Tops Off. We normally hang there when nights are slow.”
“Were you guys drinking while on duty?”
“Yes, we arrived around seven p.m. It was Captain William “Tuna” Youngstown, Steve “Loose Cannon” Stanley, Jeffrey “Speedy” Winston, and me. We didn’t leave till we heard the call. We were drunk and high off cocaine. All of us were.”
“While still on duty, you guys were high and drunk?” Johnson asked as he turned to the jury.
“Yes, that was a regular routine for us. We got a call about a robbery on 103rd Street and First Avenue. By the time we arrived at the scene we didn’t see any perps. We had a description on the suspect, a young Hispanic male in his early twenties, wearing a red shirt with blue jeans.
“We drove around the area for about fifteen minutes, but we came up empty. Steve was pretty upset about it. He was having a blast at the strip club and didn’t want to leave. He kept repeating to himself, ‘Someone is getting locked up, and I don’t care who.’ While we were sitting at the light, he yelled, ‘What’s that?’
“We all looked toward our left and we saw this Black male wearing a white shirt with black jeans walking out the store. He was reaching for his cell phone, not a gun, and he clearly didn’t fit the description. I was driving, Captain was shotgun, and Steve was sitting behind me with Jeffrey to his right. Steve and Jeff were the first ones to jump out the car, with the captain right behind them. All three had their guns drawn, yelling for Perry to get down on the ground.”
“Wait a second, Mr. Gibson. Are you saying that Perry never shot at the officers first?”
“Correct. Perry never shot at us, because he never had a gun.”
The courtroom erupted again. This time, it took about fifteen minutes to control the crowd. Everyone who supported the Colemans was on their feet, demanding and screaming for justice. The police officers in attendance were still sticking up for their brothers and began arguing with a few protesters.
Through the ruckus, you could see Perry’s mother still in her seat, her head down. She was in tears and crying out for help under her breath.
“Why, sweet Jesus, my Lord and Savior, why did you have to take my son away?”
By the time the mayhem was over, the courtroom was half-empty. A few more protesters were arrested.
During the disturbance, Lucky had looked over at his old partners and read the lips of his former captain.
“You are dead.”
Lucky just smiled and gave him the middle finger.
Once order was restored in the courtroom, the judge banged his gavel and said, “This will be my last warning. One more, and I will empty the courtroom and postpone this case. Mr. Johnson, you may continue.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Lucky, please continue. What happened next?”
“I parked the car right in the middle of the street. When I jumped out, I noticed Steve approaching Perry and he was discharging his weapon. The captain and Jeffrey followed like a domino effect. They were also firing their weapons. As I’m running toward them, I was able to stop both the captain and Jeffrey from shooting. Steve stopped only because he ran out of bullets. I was in complete disbelief because I knew we messed up pretty bad. As I’m yelling at the Cap and Jeff, Steve, who I thought had had enough, was trying to reload his weapon. The Cap tackled him to the ground and was able to calm him down for a few seconds.
“Meanwhile, Jeff ran back toward our unmarked car to retrieve a .357 revolver we kept in the trunk for dirty work. The serial number was scratched off. He took about four to five steps back from the car and shot at the back driver-side window twice. He then ran back over to Perry and placed the .357 in his hand. As soon as I approached Jeff about his actions, other units showed up to the scene. It was too late.”
Lucky stopped to wipe a tear coming down his cheek. He looked around and Perry’s family was also in tears. A few jurors had watery eyes as well.
“Mr. Gibson, did you discharge your weapon?”
“No.”
Matthew shouted, “I object, Your Honor. Our forensic witness made it clear that there were other shells found on the scene. This witness is committing perjury.”
“Your Honor, their witness also confirmed those shells did not come from Donald’s service nine-millimeter weapon.”
“Overruled.”
“And are you positive Perry never had a gun that night?” Johnson asked.
“I’m positive. We planted the gun. We shot him first and continued to shoot him while he was on the ground.”
The crowd started whispering. Lucky’s testimony was firing them up again. Even the judge thought another eruption was about to take place, but everyone kept their cool this time.
“What made you come forward?”
“Even