On the Grind (2009) (29 page)

"Oka
y,
" Filosiani was saying as I returned to the briefing room. "We're gonna hit them at a little before four o'clock. Two federal teams will scoop up the clay watch guys as they come off shift at four. Two more will get the mid-watch at Haven Park Elementary School before they hit the street. They'll swarm the gym and make the arrest at roll call. Keep it contained. Then we go door to door on everybody else."

Chief Filosiani looked up. "Agent Love and Agent Fielding will run the takedown. Both Ted and I think it's better for federal agents to be on point and do the arrests. I don't want to get into a jurisdictional shouting match. LAPD SWAT will operate a
s b
ackup only."

The plan was agreed to and signed off on by everyone.

It took longer to get the FISA warrants than anticipated. I found myself sitting alone with Alexa in the empty media room, waiting. She was holding my hand--a strange thing for her to do in a police setting, but everyone who saw us in there seemed to understand.

"We need to call Chooch.' she finally said.

We went to the com center and made the call together.

"Thank God," was all he said, and then he told me how much he loved me, how he had been praying constantly. I felt tears well in my eyes as I talked to him.

I wanted to get Ricky Ross out of Haven Park before this went down, both for his own protection and to preserve the integrity of the case. He had surprised me once again. He surprised me in L
. A
. fifteen years ago when he turned out to be much worse than I ever thought. But since I went undercover in Haven Park, heel surprised me again, turning out to be exactly what he promised. I still didn't catch his vibe, but this time he'd stood up when it mattered. I owed him.

An hour later, a plainclothes unit had picked him up and deposited him in the chief's office at Parker Center.

The FISA warrants were delivered at three in the afternoon. A federal attorney brought them over from the courthouse. We left the situation room and headed up to the garage roof, where a dozen LAPD and FBI SWAT and Tactical Weapons vans were staged. Two LAPD SWAT teams piled into their black armored rescue vehicles, five to each truck. The commanders got into Tactical Support vehicles and they all started rolling, heading down from the roof of the Glass House parking structure. The twenty FBI SWAT officers were leading the way in their ARVs.

Alexa, Filosiani and I rode in one of the LAPD plainclothes cars with his department driver at the wheel, following the six SWAT teams.

"You did good, Shane," the chief said, looking over the seat at me. He'd been so busy it was the first time we'd spoken.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm putting you in for the Medal of Valor."

"I don't want a medal. The right guy is going to get elected in Haven Park. That's enough for me."

"Good take," he said. "But you're getting the fucking medal anyway. Think of it as police department PR." Then he turned back and watched the SWAT van in front of us as we tracked silently down Third Street, the last vehicle in the motorcade.

Chapter
59

Given all that had gone before, the takedown was ridiculously easy.

FBI SWAT in riot gear with faceplates and street sweepers scooped up the day watch as they pulled into the Haven Park police parking lot. Nobody tried anything. One by one, they were lined up in cuffs, Mirandized and loaded into federal jail vans.

I was watching as Alonzo Bell drove in and got hooked up. They dragged that monster cop out of his car, disarmed him and slapped the bracelets on.

I walked over and waited until the Miranda was finished. Bell glared at me with insolent hatred.

"I tried to help you. I tried to be your friend," he said.

"Was that before or after you tried to kill me and let that asshole Velario beat the shit out of me while I was tied to a chair?"

"You know this ain't over. All kinda stuff can still get done," he said softly, so nobody else would hear. "I don't have to be on the street to make toast."

"Another threat, Al?"

"Just information, pal."

"Thanks for the heads-up. Now go do your time and try not to get short-stroked in the prison shower."

They took him away.

Horace Velario was off duty, taking some sick days. I heard later that after he was arrested, he cried in the ear when they were taking him over to the federal building on Wilshire.

Talbot Jones got busted at home. Same with Carlos Real.

Mayor Bratano was hooked up in his plaque-filled office at Haven Park City Hall a little before five the same night. The turquoise Cadillac was in his special parking space under a custom car cover. The sign at his parking place said HIS HONOR THE MAYOR.

I was standing in the hall with Alexa as he was brought out of his office in handcuffs. He was in the middle of an indignant rant as he was led past.

"Conspiracy to commit murder?" he said. "And just who's going to testify to that?"

"Me," I said. He stopped and turned back, seeing me now for the first time.

A lot of things played across his face. Anger, betrayal, and finally, despair.

The first big defection was at 6:16 that same evening. Talbot Jones's lawyer asked for a meeting with the DA. Jones copped a plea and turned state's evidence. That started the ball rolling. A deal-making free-for-all followed, with the main players in the Haven Park corruption scandal getting hung out to dry.

I wasn't around to witness it. My mouth was killing me. Chief Filosiani had cashed in a favor with a top Beverly Hills oral surgeon and in an hour I was in the dentists chair getting a set of beautiful new teeth.

Seven pain-filled hours later I walked out of the office with a numb jaw and a new set of plastic temporaries. Great from a distance, but I had strict instructions not to eat corn on the cob, peanuts, or any hard candy until my new porcelain caps were manufactured and installed.

I got home at eleven and Alexa and
I
were again back in our lawn chairs watching the still waters of the Venice canals. Franco wound incessantly back and forth around our legs. Cat love. He was glad that things were finally back to normal.

The numbness was beginning to wear off, and my mouth felt different with each passing hour. The teeth seemed somehow too big, like they belonged to someone else. They looked great, but when I spoke I could hear a slight lisp that
I
had to work hard to control.

"We really lucked out on this, babe," Alexa said, holding unhand.

"Luck has nossing to do wif it. I'm a trained proseshinal," I lisped.

She laughed and squeezed my hand.

It ended up pretty much the way it had begun, with Alexa and me in our queen-sized bed making love.

Most people never find happiness. You're lucky if you get close--get a glimpse. As I held Alexa, with Franco fussing at the foot of our bed looking for a place to lie down, I knew this was more than just a homecoming. This was redemption.

Tomorrow I would go back to work. Tomorrow I would listen to my friends and colleagues telling stories about how bad they'd felt when I'd been fired. I'd tell some stories of my own. The orange grove, the truck ride to Calexico and the trip through that tunnel. The shoot-out in the desert. Cops love war stories, and I had a slew of great new ones.

Tomorrow I'd be back on the job where I belonged.

But tonight, right now, in my wife's arms, I had peace. And with it, finally, came true happiness.