rape her, she realizes there's nothing there. The guy can't get it up.
So he just goes off and starts beating the shit out of her, then
penetrates her vaginally and an ally with a foreign object, she can't
tell what. The doctors say it was probably some kind of stick they
found splinters. Anyway, they left the parking lot and got onto 1-84
going east. She remembers passing signs to the airport. After they
stopped we're guessing they were out by Multnomah Falls at this point
Suspect One tells Suspect Two to take a turn at her. She thinks he
penetrated her vaginally and remembers Suspect One telling him to
finish off in her mouth. Her memory of what happened toward the end
was pretty hazy. She also thinks they must've taken her purse, because
she had it with her when they pulled her in the car."
I felt sick. It's bad enough that people like these men walk on the
same planet as the rest of us. The fact that they manage to find one
another and work together is utterly terrifying.
"Could she describe the suspects?"
Ray Johnson nodded. "Nothing helpful, just that she'd know them if she
saw them again. We figure it's a long shot but go ahead and pull some
mug shots off X-Imaging of guys on supervision for child sods and
stranger-to-stranger rapes."
One of PPB's newest toys, X-Imaging is a computerized data system that
stores all booking photos taken in the state.
By using the computer to select booking photos corresponding to certain
MOs, an officer is more likely to get a successful identification from
a witness than by dumping several hundred booking photos in front of
her. I could tell from Johnson's voice that in this case, the strategy
had hit pay dirt.
"She's flipping through the printouts and hones right in on one guy,
Frank Derringer. I swear, it was one of the best mug-shot IDs I've
ever seen. I mean, you've seen how it goes; with that many pictures,
most wits start to get confused. This girl is just flipping through
'em left and right and then barn! she nails it. One hundred percent
certain. "That's him," she said. Pointed right at Derringer's mug."
Johnson was getting excited now. "We get even more worked up when we
see that Derringer's the guy we pulled who was just paroled last summer
on an attempted sod of a fifteen-year-old girl. Unfortunately for
Derringer, this girl had just started a kick boxing class. As he was
pushing her down, she popped up and landed a roundhouse kick straight
to his Adam's apple and got away. He only served a year because it was
an attempt, but it shows the guy's got it in him.
"We called O'Donnell at that point and told him what we had. He gives
us the OK to pick up Derringer. We picked him up last night around
seven. His parole officer, Dave Renshaw, went out there with us. The
plan was to arrest Derringer on a parole violation for having
unsupervised contact with a minor child, then write paper to search the
apartment."
I interrupted. "Does Derringer have any cars registered to him?"
Johnson nodded. "That would've been too easy. We ran him. Only car
registered to him is an 'eighty-two Ford Escort.
It was his associated vehicle until a couple years ago, probably when
he went to the pen. Since then, it comes up as associated with one of
Derringer's pals. Guy's gotten three DUIs in two years in that same
car."
"You know how these guys are," Walker said. "They sell their pieces of
junk to each other and never bother notifying DMV."
"So, is that all you had when you went out to the house? The
victim's
ID?"
Walker appeared to share my frustration. "Yeah, that's about it, but I
don't know what more we could've gotten before we went out. They did a
rape kit at the hospital, but, according to the victim's version,
there's probably no semen to get a sample from. Derringer never did
her. Even if the other guy left behind some pre-ejaculatory liquid or
they get something from the oral swab, it can take about a week for a
PCR analysis."
"What about blood?" If the victim drew any blood fighting, the
hospital could identify the blood type in a matter of minutes.
Johnson shook his head. "Nah. The vie was too doped up to put up a
fight, so she didn't have any evidence under her fingernails or draw
any blood from them. We did have a couple things to corroborate her
story. As luck would have it, Calabrese found the victim's purse in a
trash can by the road about a half mile from where they dropped her. He
and Forbes were thinking the bad guys maybe dumped the stick on the way
out. Good thinking, but no luck. But finding the purse showed that
Martin was remembering at least some details accurately."
My face must have revealed my skepticism. "I don't want to sound like
I've made up my mind, but that's pretty weak corroboration, Detective.
It just shows Kendra was robbed; it doesn't say anything about who did
this to her. Were there any prints on the purse?"
"We don't know yet. We've got it down at the lab being looked at with
the rest of the girl's clothes."
"OK, so what you guys are telling me is that, at least so far, this
case turns entirely on Kendra Martin's identification of Derringer. Do
we all agree on that?"
They all nodded.
"So when you went out to Derringer's apartment with his PO, did this
case manage to get any better?"
The second the words came out, I regretted them. Seasoned cops like
Jack Walker and Raymond Johnson no doubt were well aware of the
differences between their approach and a district attorney's. Cops
just need to make the arrest. The DA is the one who has to prove the
case to a jury beyond a reasonable doubt afterward, who has to deal
with a defense attorney gnawing at every argument and challenging every
piece of evidence. Trying a weak case can feel like getting poked in
the eye for two weeks.
Cops learn to live with the difference in perspective. But they don't
like being talked down to. And I was pretty sure I had done just
that.
"No confession, if that's what you're looking for. Damn it, Garcia, I
thought you said this girl was willing to try a close case. We're not
even done giving her the facts, and she's already shutting us down."
Jack Walker was clearly pissed off.
I chalked up the "girl" comment to generational differences and
swallowed my pride. No use alienating these guys over a careless
comment, even one that irritated the hell out of me.
"Detective, I'm sorry if my tone suggested that I was criticizing your
investigation, but to be honest I'm a little frustrated by what I am
beginning to perceive as an attempt to portray the evidence as stronger
than it really is. Look, if the case is a real dog, I'll figure that