Detective (26 page)

Criminal Records was in the
Metro-Dade Police Department
Building, west of Miami
International Airport. There, after
more form filling and signing, the
juvenile file of Elroy Doil was
produced and opened in Ainslie's
presence. He was free to study the
file in a private room down the
hall. He could make whatever copies
he needed, but not take any part of
the file away.

The file was bulkier than he'd
expected. When he examined the
papers, it became evident that
Doil's skirmishes with the law were
far greater than even Ainslie had
believed.

He counted thirty-two apprehensions
by police (with juveniles the word
"arrest" was not used), resulting in
twenty misdemeanor convictions,
undoubtedly a mere sampling of the
total number of offenses Doil had
committed in his young life.

The record began when Elroy was ten
years old a charge of shoplifting a
Timex watch. At eleven he was
panhandling on a street corner,
begging for money at his mother's
instigation, and was taken home by
police. At twelve he assaulted a
woman teacher, inflicting bruises
and a cut lip that required
stitches. After questioning by the
police, Elroy was released to his
mother, Beulah Doil a pattern that
continued for years and was common
with juvenile offenders. A few
months later, Elroy was involved
with a street gang specializing in
purse snatching; and again he was
apprehended, then "released to
mother." An

212 Arthur Halley

other purse snatching at thirteen
was accompanied by an assault on an
elderly woman with the same outcome.

What the Doil file demonstrated,
Ainslie thought, was that most
juvenile crime was simply not taken
seriously, either by police or the
courts. He knew from his own ex-
perience that a police of fleer
could "apprehend" a juvenile at 9:00
A.M. and before the officer went off
duty at 3:00 P.M. the same offender
would be back on the streets. In the
meantime the parents would have been
called to Police Headquarters, where
the juvenile was released to their
custody incident closed.

Even when a juvenile was taken to
court, penalties were minor usually
a few days' detention at Youth Hall,
a notunpleasant place where the kids
stayed in fairly comfortable rooms
played video games, and watched TV.

Many believed the overall system,
or lack of it, spawned lifelong
criminals who became convinced, as
minors, that crime was incredibly
easy to get away with. Even the
counselors of juveniles shared that
belief and confirmed it in reports.

Counselors were assigned to
juvenile offenders after two
apprehensions. These were underpaid,
overworked individuals with little
or no special training, and of whom
a college degree was not required.
Each counselor, burdened with an
impossibly large caseload, was
expected to give advice to juveniles
and parents advice that was largely
ignored.

Elroy Doil apparently had the same
counselor, one Herbert Elders,
throughout his juvenile crime
career. The file contained several
single-page sheets headed TNFORMATION
REPORT ONLY, all written by Elders, who
seemed to have done his best in
difficult circumstances. One report,
written when Doil was "thirteen, but
big for his age and very strong,"
warned of "a probability of
long-term violence."

DETECTIVE 213

The same report noted "indifference"
from Doil's mother when confronted
with the problem.

Ainslie was especially interested
in an episode in which Doil, then
thirteen, was caught torturing a cat
to death. He had cut off the cat's
legs one by one, then its tail,
using a knife that, according to the
report, he habitually carried. He
was caught watching the cat writhe
in agony as it died. This produced a
charge of "cruelty to an animal,"
resulting in a fine of a hundred
dollars. The record did not say who
paid it.

Another "Information Report Only,"
also by Elders, referred to Elroy's
involvement at age twelve in
Operation Guidance, a city-sponsored
program for underprivileged kids.
Father Kevin O'Brien directed the
program at Miami's Gesu Church; it
included meals, sports, and Bible
study every Sunday in the church's
fenced-in grounds. Elders referred
hopefully to Elroy's "awakening
interest in religion and the Bible."

However, another report a year and
a half later recorded dismally that
religion had not curbed Doil's
misdemeanors, nor had his
religious-biblical fervor, which,
according to Father O'Brien, was
"erroneous and incoherent."

Ainslie scribbled down Father
O'Brien's phone number and address.

Across the remaining years until
Doil reached eighteen, the record
showed an orgy of offenses, none of
which had ever required Doil to be
fingerprinted. A juvenile's finger-
prints could only be taken after an
arrest for a felony or with a
parent's permission, which,
according to the file, Beulah Doil
consistently refused to give.

It was that absence of fingerprints
that left Homicide hamstrung in the
final report in the file, where Doil
was a strong suspect in the murders
of Clarence and Florentina

214 Arthur Halley

Esperanza. But without prints or
other supporting evidence, no charge
was laid.

The Homicide detectives'
frustration at that time was easy to
envisage, Ainslie thought, as he
closed the file and headed for a
copy machine.

Using a phone at Metro-Dade
headquarters, Ainslie called the
number he had written down, and
Father O'Brien answered personally.
Yes, he told Ainslie, he remembered
Elroy well, and would be willing to
talk about him. In fact, if the
sergeant wished to drive to Gesu
Church now, the priest was in his
office and available.

Father Kevin O'Brien, a bright-eyed
Irishman, now middle-aged and
balding, gestured to the wooden
chair facing his desk.

Ainslie sat down, thanked the
priest for seeing him, then briefly
described his interest in Doll,
adding, "I'm not here for evidence,
Father. I simply wonder if you could
tell me a bit about him."

O'Brien nodded thoughtfully. "I
remember Elroy as if I'd seen him
yesterday. I think, initially, he
enrolled in our program because he
needed the meals, but after a few
weeks he seemed to become mesmerized
by the Bible much more than any of
the other kids."

"Was he intelligent?"

"Extremely. But in his own way.
And a voracious reader, which
surprised me, given his marginal
education. Now that I think about
it, I remember he had a fascination
with crime and violence first in the
newspapers, then later in the
Bible." O'Brien smiled. "It was the
Old Testament that absorbed him,
with all its 'holy wars' and

DETECTIVE 215

God's wrath, pursuit, revenge, and
killing. Are you familiar with all
that, Detective?"

Ainslie nodded. "Yes, I am." In
fact, from memory, he thought, he
could have put together the kind of
passages that would have attracted
Doil.

"I saw great possibilities in young
Doil," O'Brien said, "and for a
while I thought we had real
communication, but in the end we
didn't. We talked about the Bible,
but he twisted words, including
mine, to mean whatever he wanted. He
lusted to be an avenger for God,
though redressing, I suspect, what
he saw as life's offenses against
himself. I tried reasoning, pointing
out God's love and forgiveness. He
didn't listen; more and more he
became incoherent. I wish I'd done
better."

"I think you did all you could,
Father," Ainslie said. "Do you think
Doil has some mental disorder? Is
insanity too strong a word?"

"Probably." The priest considered.
"We all have aberrations; they come
in differing packages, and experts
decide where aberrations end and
madness begins. Thinking back, one
thing I'm sure of is that Elroy was
a pathological liar. He lied when he
didn't have to. He'd tell lies to
me, for example, even when he knew I
was aware of the truth. It's as if
he had an aversion to the truth
about anything, no matter how
benign."

O'Brien concluded, "I'm not sure I
can give you much more. He was
simply a boy on the wrong track, and
I gather, from the fact that you're
here, he hasn't changed course."

"I'm not sure," Ainslie answered.
"Father, I have one more question.
Did you ever have reason to believe
Doil carried a gun? Or any other
weapon?"

"Yes," O'Brien said at once. "I
remember that very well. Most of the
boys in my program talked constantly

216 Arthur Halley

about guns, though I forbade them to
bring any here. But Doil disdained
guns and said so. I don't know why,
though I was told he did carry a
knife something big, I believe,
which he boasted about to his
friends."

"Did you ever see the knife?"

"Of course not. I would have
confiscated it if I had.''

Shaking hands with Father O'Brien
as he left, Ainslie said, "Thank you
for your help. Elroy Doil is an
enigma, but you've helped put a few
pieces in place."

Ainslie returned to Homicide
headquarters in the early afternoon,
having driven some thirty miles to
various ports of call in his quest
for information. He immediately sum-
moned a meeting of selected members
of the special task force for 4:00
P.M. that day. The list, which he
handed to a secretary, comprised
Sergeants Pablo Greene and Hank
Brewmaster, as well as Detectives
Bernard Quinn, Ruby Bowe, Esteban
Kralik, Jose Garcia, Dion Jacobo,
Charlie Thurston, Seth Wightman, Gus
Janek, and Luis Linares. Each of
them had been involved in the
surveillance duty.

Dan Zagaki, another Homicide
detective who had been part of the
surveillance, was not included on
the list. When Zagaki showed up in
Homicide during the afternoon, Ain-
slie took the young detective to an
empty office for a private talk.
Zagaki was clearly uneasy as he sat
down.

A comparative newcomer, Zagaki had
been promoted to detective and
assigned to Homicide two months
earlier, moving up from uniform
patrol duty, where his two-year
record since recruitment had been
excellent. He was from a
distinguished military family, his
father a U.S. Army general, an older
brother a Marine lieutenant colonel.
Since his Homicide arrival, Zagaki
had demonstrated eagerness

DETECTIVE 217

and energy perhaps too much of both,
Ainslie reflected now.

"When we were doing our
surveillance," Ainslie said, "you
reported to me that Elroy Doil was
probably not our killer. You
recommended we eliminate him as a
suspect and discontinue surveillance.
Is that correct?"

"Well, yes, Sergeant. But my
partner, Luis Linares, felt the same
way."

"Not entirely. When I talked with
Linares he said he agreed with you
that Doil was an unlikely candidate,
but he wasn't in favor of ending his
surveillance. His words were, 'I
wouldn't go that far.' "

Zagaki looked crestfallen. "I was
wrong, wasn't I? I guess you're about
to tell me that."

Ainslie's voice sharpened. "Yes,
very wrong dangerously wrong, in
fact. Recommendations by detectives
are taken seriously here, though
fortunately I didn't act on yours.
Now I want you to read these." He
handed Zagaki a sheaf of papers. They
included the Form 301 from Sandra
Sanchez, a report from the
seventeen-year-old Homicide file on
the Esperanza murders, with Doil
named as the principal suspect, and
three copied pages from Doil's
juvenile file.

At length Zagaki looked up, his
expression anguished. "Oh boy, how
wrong can you get! What will you do,
Sergeant have me thrown out of
Homicide?"

Ainslie shook his head. "This is
between us; it goes no further. But
if you want to stay in Homicide,
you'd better learn from what's
happened. You've got to take your
time making these kind of judgments;
you can't come to conclusions solely
on appearances. Be a skeptic always.
Remember that most of the time,
everywhere in life, things are seldom
the way they seem."

218 Arthur Halley

"I sure will remember, Sergeant.
And thanks for not taking this
further.''

Ainslie nodded. "One other thing
you should know: I've called a
meeting this afternoon to revive the
surveillance on Elroy Doil. You will
probably hear about it, but I've
taken you off the list."

Zagaki looked pained. "Sergeant, I
may be out of line, because I know
I'm getting what I deserve. But is
there any way I could persuade you
to give me another chance? I won't
screw up this time, I promise."

Ainslie hesitated. His judgment
told him to stay with his decision.
He still had doubts about Zagaki.
Then Ainslie remembered his own
early days in the force when he had
made mistakes, and he supposed there
was a forgiveness factor a canon
from his past that had never
entirely left him.

"All right," he conceded. "Be here
at four o'clock."

11

"I take it we all agree on our prime
suspect," Ainslie said. There was a
murmured chorus of assent from the
twelve other members of the special
task force crowded into Newbold's
office. The lieutenant stood against
the back wall, having told Ainslie
to take over his desk and chair.

The task force of three sergeants,
including Ainslie, and ten
detectives sat in chairs or perched
on window ledges and tabletops, or
simply leaned against the wall. As
the meeting progressed, Ainslie
sensed the team's excitement,
revived by the crucial information
revealed through Sandra Sanchez and
Elroy Doil's now-exposed juvenile
crime record.

On hearing of Doil's criminal
past, Sergeant Greene had exploded.
"That goddam system! It's insane, a
public menace "