Bloodville (28 page)
Authors: Don Bullis
Tags: #Murderers, #General, #New Mexico, #Historical, #Fiction
Mat Torrez received a short letter from Karen McBride dated October 20, 1968. Postmarked Lisbon, Portugal, it read:
My Captain, My Captain
My fearful trip is done. My ship has weathered every rack, the prize I sought is nearly won. My apologies to Walt Whitman. I have seen all of the Iberian Peninsula I care to see. I'll leave here on Wednesday, Oct. 23 on a flight to London and then on to Dublin and Cork. Grandma insists I visit some of my distant relatives in Eire. 'Twill give me more depth, she said. Since she‘s paying for the trip, I'm inclined to agree.
I'll be leaving Cork on November 5th and flying back to London and from there to Chicago via New York City. I'll arrive in Albuquerque aboard TWA flight 1366 on Wednesday, November 6 at 2:40 PM. I tell you this longing to see you at the gate. I hope you‘ve forgiven me for leaving as I did. If I see you waiting, I'll know you have. If you‘re not there, I'll know you have not and I'll take a taxi to grandma's house, never to see you again. The one thing I have learned on my sojourn is that I do love you but then I think you already knew that.
Mat Torrez folded the letter and put it inside his coat pocket. He knew he‘d be at the Albuquerque Sunport on the afternoon of the November 6th.
On November 5, 1968, Paul Tackett won election to an eight year seat on the New Mexico Supreme Court. He defeated Republican Robert Armijo by more than 10,000 votes out of 300,000 votes cast. Governor Dave Cargo defeated Democrat challenger Fabian Chavez by a margin of less than 3,000 votes out of nearly 320,000 votes cast. The Democrats retained large majorities in both houses of the legislature.
Albuquerque Journal
for November, 6, 1968, carried this story at the bottom of page one:
FISHGUARD, Wales, AP An Irish Airliner with 61 passengers aboard went into a spin off Wales Tuesday and plunged into the Irish Sea. All were feared lost as rain and darkness impeded a massive search. An Albuquerque woman is believed to have been aboard.
Navy ships and radar-equipped aircraft pressed the search through the night but no wreckage or rafts were sighted. The crash shaped up as the worst in the 37-year history of Aer Lingus, the stateowned Irish airline.
Donald Wallace, an airline executive, said, ―It is with the deepest regret that we must now conclude that there is little hope of any survivors. This is our first passenger fatality for 16 years and it leaves all of us with a profound sense of shock and loss,‖ he said. Wallace's brother, Roger, was aboard the plane, a four-engine British-built Viscount bound from Cork to London on a regularly scheduled flight in fair weather.
The first and last hint of disaster came in a message from the plane's captain at the halfway point of the 360 mile trip when he said he was spinning. At midafternoon the British Navy reported picking up four ―Mayday‖ signals from automatic transmitters of the kind carried by the plane in its survival gear. But no one knew if they came from the plane itself or from one, or more, of its rafts. The search was concentrated west of St. David's Head in St. George's Channel off the west coast of south Wales. Naval officers said the Viscount's last message reported the plane spinning out of control from 17,000 feet.
Aer Lingus reported that among the 61 passengers was Karen McBride of Albuquerque, New Mexico, who was returning to the United States after a visit to Ireland. She is the granddaughter of Kathryn McBride of Alameda, north of Albuquerque.
Also among the passengers were six Austrians who had been on a fishing holiday in Ireland. Another reported aboard was William CoxIfe, a well-known authority on Gilbert and Sullivan.
Parker Pratt received the following correspondence On Tuesday, November 19, 1968:
State of New Mexico, County of Valencia, Plaintiff
-vs
Billy Ray White, et al, Defendant No. 3435 - Criminal
You are hereby notified that the above numbered and styled cause has been set for Jury Trial on Monday, February 3, 1969, at the Valencia County Courthouse, Los Lunas, New Mexico, before the Honorable John B. McManus, Jr.
_____________________ Donald J. Wilcoxson
Assistant District Attorney
State of New Mexico, Plaintiff vs.
Billy Ray White, et al, Defendant
Comes now Billy Ray White, the defendant in the above entitled and numbered cause of action and pursuant to the laws of the State of New Mexico and the Constitution of the State of New Mexico and states that the following Judge of the Second Judicial District Court cannot preside over the trial of the above cause of action with impartially:
On Monday, December 9, 1968, Pratt and Wilcoxson met at the District Attorney's office.
―Ok, Parker. You win on the judge selection deal. You've pulled of a stall.‖
―I resent your implication, Don. I told you more than two months ago, on October 2nd to be exact, that I'd disqualify Judge McManus. Any delay here can be laid at your door.‖
―I'm not going to argue the point with you, Park. We'll go along with Ziram.‖
―I also told you two months ago that I had some reservations about Judge Ziram. We could have avoided all this if you'd bothered to discuss the matter with me a month ago.‖
―I don't have to discuss anything with you. We had a perfectly acceptable jurist in McManus to preside and you disqualified him. Now we have another. I've talked to Ziram, and he agreed to preside. I've talked to Noble and he agreed to appoint Ziram. You disqualify Ziram and you're just stalling. I may raise that point with Noble.‖
―You want to give me grounds for an appeal even before we get into the courtroom, you go ahead and do that. The defendant has a right to participate in the decision making process. That's why we have disqualification. You want to go to trial with a judge the defendant finds unacceptable, go ahead. It'll give me a safety net, you might call it.‖
―What do you want, Parker?‖ Wilcoxson's voice and gaze were cold as the winter wind.
―As it turns out, Don, Judge Ziram is acceptable to the defendant. I've even prepared a memo to you that says as much.‖
―Why the hell didn't you say so to begin with?‖
―I was too busy enjoying the threats you were making.‖
―Very funny. You be ready to go to trial in March?‖
―Sure. I was ready to go to trial in February, but not with Judge McManus. You should know, though, that we'll need a full half day for motions.‖
―What in the hell for? What kind of a dodge is this?‖
―We'll move to exclude testimony from Flossie, especially testimony in which she specifically identifies my client as the perpetrator.‖
―On what goddamn grounds?!‖
―The hypnotism, Don. It taints anything she says by way of identification.‖
―That's bullshit, Park. You got any case law?‖
―Seventy years of it.‖
―What other little surprises you gonna drop on me?‖
―No surprises. Just good defense for my client. Would you expect anything less? We'll ask the state to pay for psychiatric examination of my client and for a narcosis, and/or a lie detector test. I expect to put an investigator to work on the case in a week or so, and the state can pay for that, too. You have the State Police, the Albuquerque Police, and the FBI. I should be allowed one investigator. You have any objection?‖
―Damn right I do. You have all the police reports. No reason for you to waste the public's money on some sleazy gumshoe.‖
―I only have your word that I‘ve received all the reports. The newspapers say there were upwards of fifty police officers in Budville on the night of the murders and yet I have only five reports and most of them pertain to the early investigation, and Larry Bunting. Where are the rest of them? I only have one report that has anything to do with Billy Ray White.‖
―You have all the reports you need. The rest of them are not germane.‖
―It's up to me make that determination. If I don't receive the rest of the reports, and certification from you that I have them all, I'll ask the Judge to intercede. And even so, I still want my own investigator.‖ You're determined to get this maggot off the hook, aren't you?‖ ―I‘m not sure he did it, Don.‖
―To each his own, Parker. To each his own.‖
Pratt had an unlikely man in mind to serve as his ―private investigator.‖ John Cook was born into a mining family near the western New Mexico community of Ambrosia Lake. An intellectual cut above many of those in his working-class world, he attended the New Mexico School of Mines at Socorro and at age twenty-five received a masters degree in mining engineering and immediately went to work for the school as an instructor. Cook looked like a mining man. He stood six feet four inches tall and weighed two hundred and twenty pounds. He wore thick, shaggy, sideburns and a long bushy mustache.
His judgment in women was as bad as his intellect was good. By the time he reached thirty-five he'd been married twice, and divorced twice, and fathered a son by each woman, both of whom despised him thoroughly. Cook threatened to kick one of his ex-wives in the ass over the issue of visitation rights, and he did it in a letter. She had him arrested for issuing threats by mail. Parker Pratt represented Cook in both divorces and in the criminal matter which resulted in three years of federal probation and cost Cook his teaching position. By 1967, Cook was doing free-lance consulting for several Albuquerque engineering firms, when he felt like it, and when he wasn't hanging around female graduate students and the University of New Mexico. He also spent considerable time drinking beer in the bars along Central Avenue that catered to the college crowd as well as other free thinkers and dope dealers. In early December, Cook's mother died and John dropped by to ask Pratt to handle the probate.
―What're you doing for yourself these days, John?‖ the lawyer asked.
―Hanging around. Chasing women. Tryin' to stay out of jail. Hell, Park, I gotta be good. I can't afford you.‖
―How would you like to do a little work for me?‖
―You find some gold you need mined?‖
―No. In fact I'll lose money on this case. What I'd like you to do is some legwork. Talk to some witnesses. See what you can dig up on a client of mine and the state's witnesses. You interested?‖
―You bet. I'd be a private detective like Joe Mannix. Does this mean I get to have a good lookin' Black secretary, and I get beat up and knocked out by the bad guys two or three times a week?‖
―No to the first question and I hope not to the second.‖
Pratt handed Cook a half dozen file folders. ―Take these home and read them over. Think about the questions you'd like to ask Billy Ray White. Come back in the morning and we'll talk it over.‖
Cook was waiting in Parker‘s outer office when the lawyer got to work the next morning. ―I can see lots of things I could do with the matter of Billy Ray White. When do I start my career as at a PI? That‘s what the cops call private investigators, you know.‖
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
This is to certify that John Cook is authorized as my agent for the purpose of conducting any investigation pertaining to the defense of Billy Ray White on the charges of murder arising out of the shooting of Bud Rice and Blanche Brown in Budville, New Mexico, November 18, 1967.
I would appreciate any cooperation which might be given to Mr. Cook.
Very truly yours,
Parker Pratt
―I don't know, John. Maybe. Keep track of your time, just in case. If it turns out it doesn‘t, you‘ll have a lot of credit built up with me for the next time one of your ex-wives takes umbrage with you.‖
On Christmas eve, 1968, the State Police dispatcher in Albuquerque received an unusual telephone call. A feminine voice, creaking with age and broken with uncertainty, asked to speak to Doctor Scurbock. With no small effort, the dispatcher at last determined the caller wanted to speak with Doc Spurlock.
―Agent Spurlock is not assigned to this office. Can someone else help you?‖
―They was a Mexican ... boy with the doctor ... sometimes ... can I talk to him?‖
―That would probably be Agent Valverde.‖
―Maybe ... can I talk to him?‖
―He's on annual leave until January 6,‖ the dispatcher said. ―Can I
―Just some things ... out to Budville he should ... know about ... I guess it don't matter.‖
The dispatcher sensed the caller was about to hang up. ―Wait. Could I have your name, please?‖
―I could leave a message for Agent Valverde to call you back, or maybe even Captain Torrez.‖
―That's the Mexican boy ... Torrez ... can I talk to him?‖
―He isn't here, but he calls just about every day. Can I have him call you back?‖
―Nobody can ... call me ... you can tell him ... I called up ... if you want to. Nettie Buckley.‖ The line went dead.
Mateo Torrez died at about two p.m. Christmas Day, 1968, when a west bound freight train collided with his state car near McCarty's Village on the Acoma Reservation. Investigators at the scene reported the view of the railroad tracks unobstructed for nearly a half mile in both directions and the weather clear and dry. The train‘s engineer said he saw the car drive onto the grade crossing only seconds before the collision. Traveling at sixty miles per hour, he had no time to apply the brakes before the crash occurred. The huge diesel engine crushed the car and then bounced it along like a crumpled wad of tinfoil for two hundred yards before it cast the wreckage aside.
Officer Troy McGee arrived first on the scene. He didn‘t have to touch Mat to know he was dead. Half covered with a disarray of file folders and police reports on the passenger side of the front seat floorboards was a pint Smirnof vodka bottle. Empty. McGee removed it and never mentioned it to anyone. McGee also found a newspaper clipping in the captain's hand. The dateline was Fishguard, Wales.