Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 03 - Writing Can Be Murder (23 page)

Head Shot

St. Paul
& Minneapolis, MN

Early
November

D
R. JOHN
GOODMAN STOOD
in Rick Wilson’s hospital room and
checked over the latest vital signs from his patient’s chart. Satisfied, he
turned to Rick. “How’s the memory coming along?”

“Still…don’t remember…shot.” He shook his head in frustration.

Caroline Wilson, Rick’s mother, sent John a glance. John felt bad
for both of them. The kid still couldn’t recall the events
that led him to the operating room, fighting for his life. It was
possible
he would never remember. John couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be
unable to identify your would-be killer, to always wonder what happened.

He changed the subject. “Your progress is nothing short of
amazing. Hard to believe you’ll be heading to the rehab facility tomorrow?”

Rick nodded in response. His mother said, “What can we expect
there?”

John took the
chair opposite Rick’s mother, next to the bed. Although the question came from
Caroline, John directed his response to both of them, wanting to make sure Rick
would have a clear understanding of the road ahead of him. “A team of
professionals there will take over your care. After performing a thorough
evaluation – taking into account our records, of course - they will establish
treatment goals and begin your rehab regimen as soon as possible. The earlier
they begin, the better off you will be. The window of recovery is the greatest
early on in rehab. The more aggressive they are in the beginning, the better
the outcome.”

He paused and
glanced at Caroline, before he turned his attention back to his patient. “It’s
not going to be easy. There are days when you are going to want to give up. But
I know you are a fighter; you’ve already come so far. You are young and
strong.”

Rick struggled to talk. “Can…take
it. Whaaa…what will I be….” He swallowed and tried again, “be like?”

John thought
carefully about Rick’s question before responding,
"Your
brain will continue to heal itself for the next five to eighteen months.
Unfortunately, the parts of your brain that were destroyed by the bullet are
gone forever. While the surrounding tissue will make new connections, it’s hard
to say with any precision. Each case is different. While it’s very rare for a
person with your extensive brain injury to recover all abilities and function,
I wouldn’t rule out anything. I’ve heard about patients, who after being shot
in the head, return to near normal functioning.”

Caroline spoke up. “What areas
will be the hardest to recover?”

John turned
to her. “As I’ve mentioned before, the damage to Rick’s brain was confined to
the left side of his brain. That area affects speech, reading, problem solving
abilities and hand/eye coordination. These are things you and I take for
granted every day. We do them without thinking. They’ll be the tasks that will
be most challenging in the days, weeks and months ahead. But Rick is in good
hands at the rehab facility.”

As Caroline and her son quietly talked further about the days
ahead, John snuck a quick glance at his watch. If he left in the next few
minutes, he would have just enough time to get to his interview at the
university. He smiled at his patient and stood up from his chair. “I hate to
say this, but I have another pressing appointment. I’ll check in on you one
more time before you’re discharged. Let me know if either of you has any
further questions.”

Caroline Wilson nodded. “Thank you for everything, Doctor
Goodman.”

John flashed a smile. “It’s been my pleasure to know you both.”

***

John arrived a few minutes early for his interview at the
University of Minnesota. When he walked to the entrance of the Coffman Memorial
Union building, he briefly turned around to admire the view across the mall. It
was mid-afternoon and the campus was a beehive of activity. The lawns were
blanketed with dried leaves and students hurried along the pathways, huddled
against the cold breeze that swirled between the buildings on either side of the
mall. Autumn always reminded him of his own years on campus, and he experienced
a wave of nostalgia.

He smiled at the thought of being a player on this university’s
stage, depending on how the meeting with the president and board went, of
course. John liked the vibrancy he felt as he strolled around the Big Ten
campus.

John pulled open one of the large main doors and strode into the
first floor of the massive building. Glancing around to get his bearings, he
saw sofas and chairs filled with students working on laptops, sending text
messages, reading text books or catching a catnap.

Locating the information desk, he asked for directions to the
meeting room and took the elevator to the third floor. As he stood in the
elevator, he straightened his tie and checked his watch. It had been quite some
time since he had met with a board and he wanted to make a good first
impression.

He wished he had a chance to talk to Jo to get her thoughts before
moving forward with the interview. However, ever since she began the Rick
Wilson case, they had few quiet moments together. He had planned on discussing
it the previous evening, but Jo hadn’t gotten home from Frisco’s until after
two a.m., and she had left early in the morning for the office.

The elevator arrived and John located the meeting room to his
left. He took a deep breath and walked into the room.

***

The day flew by as Jo and Detective Frisco spent the majority of
the afternoon at his desk in the St. Paul police station arranging for a judge
to issue the arrest warrant for Michael Mazlo, along with search warrants for
his house and business office. Frisco sent his new partner, Riley Simmons, to
pick up the warrants from the judge’s chambers.

While they waited for Riley’s return, Jo’s cell phone rang. The
caller was Detective Ron Fischer of the Williston police department.

“Ron, give me some good news.”

“Never thought it would happen, but I’m holding a lengthy
affidavit signed by Wellborne. I’ll email it right now.”

“Excellent. Anything in it that we don’t already know?”

“Yeah. Boy, talk about an interesting and creepy discussion. He
said Mazlo called him one day, must’ve been right before your victim, Rick
Wilson, was shot. According to Wellborne, the guy was drunk, or high on
something. He aggressively pushed Wellborne to do his part in clearing the way
for his skin trade. Mazlo told him one of the college kids had confronted him
with proof he was blackmailing Wellborne and threatened to go to the
authorities.”

Jo interrupted. “I’ll bet Mazlo was referring to Rick Wilson. That
crazy kid must’ve told him they bugged his office.” She shook her head. “He
should have gone to the authorities with what he knew instead of going to
Mazlo.”

Ron continued. “Well, you know kids at that age, they think
they’re invincible. Anyway, Wellborne was pissed and wanted a guarantee he
wasn’t going to be exposed. Mazlo insisted he would permanently take care of
the college kids himself and then they would be free to move forward with their
deal.”

 
“Did Mazlo tell him how he
was going to take care of the problem?”

“No. Guess Mazlo was afraid Wellborne might grow a conscience if
he was too specific, and Wellborne would go to the police. But, there was no
doubt in Wellborne’s mind he was going to kill both men.”

“And Wellborne’s agreed to testify to all this in court?”

“Yup. He lawyered-up. Wanted to renege on his agreement with you.
However, I reminded him of the deep shit he was in, not only for the water
contamination cover-up, but also for abetting sex trafficking in the oil fields.
He had that attitude of his right up until the point I told him he would be
going down for authorizing the murder of his compliance officer.

“After that, he couldn’t write down his statement fast enough.
When his lawyer tried to stop him, Wellborne threatened to fire his ass for
interfering. Said he wasn’t planning on spending his life in prison for ‘some
old high school classmate’s shit’ is how I think he phrased it. It’s been an
entertaining afternoon, thanks to you folks.”

“Good work, Ron. I owe you one.”

“Nah. You’re doing me a huge favor with this trafficking thing.
Lord knows, we’ve got enough problems without adding more to the list. Maybe
now I can bring Micki and the kids home.”

Jo smiled at that. “What about your police chief?”

“I had Wellborne sign a separate affidavit stating the chief’s
involvement with his shenanigans. He’ll be in deep shit before the next shift
is over.”

Ron paused, and then said, “What’s going to happen to Wellborne?
It galls me to think he’s going to get away with all this in return for his
testimony.”

“Trust me; he won’t be getting off scot-free. He’ll be lucky if
all he loses is his company, at this point. We should have those water
contamination reports from Mazlo’s office in our hands by the end of the
afternoon.”

“Let me know if I can do anything else.”

Jo thanked him and disconnected the call. She turned to Frisco and
was filling him in on the Williston update when Frisco’s phone rang.

“Frisco here.” He paused, and then said, “Hang on a sec, Frank.
I’m going to put you on speaker.”

He placed the phone on top of his desk and mouthed, “Duluth PD”.
In the vicinity of the phone, he said, “Alright, Frank. Tell us what you pulled
on the Mazlowski family.”

The voice was loud coming through the phone; as if Frank was
worried he couldn’t be heard and should shout his findings. “The father, Jacob
Mazlowski, used to be a member of the Posse Comitatus over in Tigerton,
Wisconsin.”

Frisco said, “Wasn’t that a white supremacist paramilitary
settlement that went out of business back in the eighties?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. After the federal government cracked down
on the group in ‘eighty-five, the main leaders were arrested and the group
petered out. Jacob moved back to his daddy’s old farmstead, just outside of
Duluth.”

“I’ve heard rumors. Any recent activity?”

“Jacob and his sons, Jeb and Samuel, have been keeping a low
profile for the last couple of years, but there’s been recent buzz they’re
trafficking Native American women and kids. Very well organized, too. We’ve had
a helluva time getting something solid, though.”

Frisco added. “Always heard old Jacob was pretty bad-ass. People
are too scared to talk. I’m sure he learned from his Posse days how to keep his
activities underground.”

The police officer continued. “Jeb’s been arrested several times
for destruction of property and Samuel’s rap sheet includes harassment of
several local girls, especially residents of the Fond du Lac band of Lake
Superior Chippewa over by Cloquet. Both sons have managed to wriggle out of
serious jail time, mainly because no one will testify against them in court.”

Jo spoke up. “Any record of problems with the third son, Michael?”

They could hear the unmistakable clicks of a keyboard and the
police officer said, “Not since he was a minor. Looks like he kept his nose
pretty clean after a stint in juvie.” A few more clicks and then he continued,
“Funny, I can’t seem to find anything on him after his eighteenth birthday;
it’s like he dropped off the planet or something.”

Frisco looked at Jo. “Must’ve been about the time he changed his
name to Mazlo.”

Jo nodded. “But it looks like he never really left the family
business, just went to college to learn how to do a better job of running it.”
Directing her attention back to the phone, she said, “Anything else?”

 
“Not at the moment. I’ll
keep digging and ask around.”

Frisco said, “I’d appreciate it. Looks like I’m buying the beer
next time I’m in Duluth, buddy.”

The officer chuckled, “Well, then don’t take so long to get back
up this way. I get mighty thirsty, you know.”

After Frisco clicked off the call, his new partner walked into the
station. The detective motioned for her to join them and they both stood to
greet her.

It was the first time Jo had met Frisco’s new partner in person.
She was very tall, her Nordic roots evident in her white blond hair and long
legs. Riley held out her hand in greeting when Frisco introduced them, and Jo
had to look up into her face, her head barely reaching the woman detective’s
collarbone.

“Great to finally meet you, Riley. Frisco has said great things
about you.” She smiled. “Now, we’re all going to have to sit back down or I’ll
get a kink in my neck looking up at you.”

Riley’s cool blue eyes danced with merriment and obliged, taking
the seat next to Frisco. “Likewise. All I ever hear about is ‘Jo this’ and ‘Jo
that’. I’m a big fan already.”

Frisco turned to his partner. “Okay. Enough with the love fest.
Got the warrants?”

Riley nodded and held up the papers. “Right here