Chapter Fifteen

Ineeded help.

I realized, talking to Sergio, that I was a bit like him. I didn’t like to ask for help, either. I expect to do everything myself and can’t isn’t in my vocabulary.

He was stuck. He’d made a decision that he saw no way out from. He believed his sister was in danger no matter what he did.

How much danger? Would Javier hurt her? Kill her?

I went to my mom’s law office which wasn’t far from the jail.

My mom had been a prosecutor most of her career, then was appointed to Maricopa County Attorney—basically, a district attorney—when her boss resigned following a serious health issue. She won two additional terms, but told us at family dinner when she decided not to run again that she wanted to pick and choose her cases. She felt her hands were tied—that some criminals deserved more time, and some deserved less. That repeat offenders had learned to game the system and first-time offenders often had no support. She joined her sister Rita Garcia at Arizona Legal Services, which was housed in a historic building owned by my grandparents, walking distance to both the modern Chase Field and old St. Mary’s Basilica.

“This is a nice surprise,” Mom said when I knocked on her open office door.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

Mom leaned back in her chair and motioned for me to sit.

My mom always looked put together. So did my sister Tess. In contrast, I rarely put on jewelry, preferred jeans to slacks or skirts, and kept my hair cut long enough to put back in a ponytail and in a simple style that I could wash and go without much fuss.

When I was struggling over my decision about whether to re-enlist, my mom helped me more than anyone. She seemed to intuitively understand my conflict and told me I needed to find my calling. Whether college or the Army or learning a trade or starting a business. That I needed to do something that satisfied me. She also said if I didn’t re-enlist, I could always join the reserves. That finalized my decision. I could still give the Army time and energy, but not my entire life.

It had been the right call.

“I need to tell you something confidential,” I said. “You may disapprove, but no one can know.”

She nodded once, her face unreadable.

“Andy Flannigan hired me to prove someone he’s prosecuting is innocent.” I told her about the murder, Sergio’s confession, what evidence the police had, and my most recent conversation with him. “I don’t know that he’s told me everything, but he didn’t kill the clerk. He confessed because his sister was threatened. I don’t know exactly how or when, but something happened the week after the police first talked to him.”

“His sister? What about his brother? You said his younger brother was there, correct?”

“The video is poor. No way to ID any of them, but I’m almost positive Henry was there and Javier Escobar is the shooter. Proving it? I can’t. I need Henry to make a statement, but Sergio thinks in the time it takes for the police to investigate, Javier will hurt his sister.”

“And possibly his brother, as a witness.”

I nodded.

“So you’re saying that Sergio was convinced that his family would be in danger if he didn’t take the blame.”

“Correct. He’s having second thoughts, but recognizes that investigations take time and he can’t protect his family, in or out of prison. He feels stuck. It was a rash decision that he now can’t find a way around.”

“Is he recanting?”

I shook my head. “He won’t, not unless Sophia is safe. Henry needs to go on record, and I have to find a safe place for Sophia.”

“Yet, Henry lives with the boy he would be accusing of murder,” Mom said.

I knew that, but I was trying to forget it.

“Can we get him out of the house?” I asked.

I could see her mind working, the way she put her hands to her face, her index fingers pointed like a steeple. She stared at a spot on the wall above my head, as if seeing answers behind me.

“It’s a pickle,” Mom said. “Moving kids around in foster care isn’t done lightly, and even with an emergency order, it would take a few days. At least twenty-four hours.”

“I’m digging into both Cactus Stop clerks’ backgrounds because something rubs me wrong about them.”

“What do you mean both clerks?”

I told her about Sergio’s alleged altercation with Cruz, which the police used as the impetus for questioning Sergio in the first place. “I was thinking there might be gang ties, but I haven’t seen gang activity around these kids or the store. I think—this is just an impression—that Javier is trying to find a gang. That’s why he’s being reckless. He’s a kid, but he’s an angry kid with no authority figure to guide him. He’s pulling Henry and Bruno, the other kid in his foster home, down into the muck.” I paused, considered what I knew and what I suspected. “I can’t prove anything that I’m saying. This is all just impressions based on what I know. Cruz lied about the altercation. If you watch Sergio’s interviews with police, you would see the same thing—his first statement is the truth. His second is not.”

“Andy should never have let you view those.”

“Mom, please—he doesn’t want an innocent man in prison. But you can’t say anything.”

“There are rules for a reason.” She put up her elegant, manicured hand. “I won’t say anything. You told me confidentially. But someone could find out. I still don’t know what you’d like me to do.”

“I’m going to approach Sophia again, talk to her with her foster parent there. If I can convince them that Sophia needs to go somewhere safe, I’m hoping to then get Henry in to talk to Sergio, have a brotherly heart-to-heart. If Henry agrees to make a statement against Javier, Sergio will recant. But I need Henry out of the foster house.” A lot of hopes and dreams, I realized.

“Devil’s advocate here,” Mom said. “For the sake of argument, Sergio recants and somehow gets bail. Because they won’t just take his word for it that it wasn’t him wearing his own sweatshirt. They’ll investigate, talk to his brother, the others. Even if Henry states that he was there and witnessed the shooting, the stories contradict. Police could think that Henry is lying to protect his brother. This is a homicide. George is going to want to bring a suspect to trial. If Sergio recants, that doesn’t mean he’s going to be released. He’s also running a risk of his confession being allowed during the trial. Just because he recanted doesn’t mean that the jury won’t be allowed to watch the interview. So Sergio will still be embroiled in a legal battle, and there is no way that the courts will grant him guardianship over his siblings.”

“That’s why I need you,” I said simply. “If anyone can persuade the system to give Sergio a chance, it’s you.”

My mom laughed. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

“It’s justified,” I said and smiled. “I’m going to prove he’s innocent. Will you work on the Kinship Care program? His friend Faith Jones—she manages The Taco House closest to my place—has been helping him. She’s prickly but will give you everything you need.”

“Send me her information, I’ll talk to her.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Honey, don’t get your hopes up. Perhaps Sergio is innocent of these charges. But people can disappoint you.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Rita and I will put our heads together. Maybe we’ll come up with something.”

“Told you my faith was justified.”

“But, honey, there is no hard evidence either way. The only solid evidence is the GSR on Sergio’s clothes. That is pretty damning. Be careful if you go looking for more. If there is gang involvement, it could get dicey.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m being careful.”

I started to leave when my mom said, “Margo?”

“Hmm?” I turned to her, sensing something odd in her voice.

“I didn’t handle Luisa’s announcement well the other night. I hurt her, and I’ve tried talking to her about it, but she doesn’t want to talk, insists it’s fine. I appreciate that you stood up for her. I realize we may not have taken your announcement well, either.”

“Actually, you took mine better than Lu’s. I know why. You didn’t see me as a scholar. Sure, you wanted me to go to college because that’s what everyone is expected to do. But you knew I wasn’t really college material.”

“You are extremely intelligent,” Mom said.

“Why do you think college has anything to do with intelligence? Sure, smart people generally go to college. They become doctors and lawyers and engineers and great, we need people like that. But you can be smart and not get a four-year degree. By college material I mean I’m not someone who sits around well. I would have been bored. Classes don’t interest me, I’m a hands-on learner. But Lu? You think of her as the perfect college student. Supersmart, gets terrific grades, loves learning, always has her head in a book. You accepted the Army for me because you could picture me there. You don’t picture Lu in uniform.”

“I really would love for her to go through ROTC. I don’t think I would have this reaction if she was going through that program, like your father did.”

“Let her prove herself,” I said.

“She has nothing to prove to anyone,” Mom said.

“Maybe she does—to herself.”

I had just slid into my car when my phone rang. The number was what I had for Detective Tomas Villines.

“This is Margo Angelhart.”

“You’ve created quite a stir in one of my cases, Ms. Angelhart.”

“Glad I could help,” I said.

“Don’t call my boss anymore. Ambrose is busy, and he doesn’t want to talk to a PI.”

I liked that I’d ruffled some feathers over there. “All I wanted was someone in the know to call me back. So thanks.”

He paused a beat, as if not knowing what to say to that. “Julia Henderson called together several of her business acquaintances and they compared notes. She told me you were looking into the robberies for a client. Who?”

“That’s confidential,” I said.

“You seem to have more information than I do.”

“Everything I know is from public records and news reports.”

“One of the victims saw the kids. He now wants to look at yearbooks, because he thinks he can identify them. This puts us in a prickly situation.”

“Yearbooks are public. Anyone can go into a school library and look at them.”

“I can’t, not without cause.”

“I can.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Got it,” I said.

“Ms. Angelhart, I don’t particularly like private investigators. You don’t follow the rules and create more problems than you solve. If anything comes of this, let me know. I can’t have a group of vigilantes chasing down these kids.”

“The same kids were involved in the Cactus Stop shooting.”

“We got that guy.”

“No, you didn’t. And if you compare the recordings from the robberies and the Cactus Stop shooting, you’ll realize it.”

“Take it up with Detective Barrios, it’s her case.”

“An innocent man is going to prison.”

“For shit’s sake, Angelhart. You have a brother on the force. You think we’re all a bunch of bullies? The guy confessed. It wasn’t coerced.”

“I didn’t say a cop threatened him. He had reasons, but he will recant.” I hoped. “I have to go. I’ll let you know if I get an ID.”