and other items of evidence relating to the August 21 murder at the Queen of Angels Church.
I request that this information remain confidential because disclosure may endanger Source A.
Satisfied that all the information he'd developed was contained in the search warrant, Stepanovich corrected a few minor typos in the draft, and went upstairs to the divisional copying machine. After waiting for a secretary to finish running off the division bowling league standings, he made the twelve copies of the search warrant required by the district attorney's office.
At six Stepanovich and Arredondo stopped by the L.A. County Courthouse, where a muscle bound deputy marshal in a tailored uniform showed them into the chambers of the duty judge, a young red haired woman whom Stepanovich remembered as having lost most of her cases while a city prosecutor. She reviewed the search warrant carefully, asked a couple of perfunctory questions, then signed both the search warrant and an arrest warrant for Greenie.
It was dusk when Stepanovich and Arredondo left the courthouse. As they climbed into the unmarked car, Stepanovich lifted the radio microphone from the dashboard hook and called Harger. He responded promptly.
"The warrant is signed."
"Good work."
As they were driving toward Greenie's apartment over the Third Street Bridge from downtown into East L.A., Harger's voice crackled over the police radio as he transmitted staccato instructions to the members of the task force concerning the search warrant operation.
Stepanovich turned right onto Eighteenth Street and drove slowly past rundown apartment houses and residential courts. It was now dark and the street was quiet.
At the end of the block he pulled up across the street from the Florentine Gardens housing project, a graffiti covered cluster of pale green cement block apartment houses linked by outdoor clotheslines, community trash receptacles, and unmowed patches of grass. He drove along a little farther, checking the addresses painted on the curb. Stepanovich had served numerous other search warrants in the project. Familiar with its layout, he looked up to the second floor and counted apartments from east to west. Using binoculars from the glove compartment, he located the apartment listed in the search warrant as Greenie's. There was a light on.
Arredondo reached behind the passenger seat and hoisted a pump shotgun into the front seat. Keeping it aimed at the floorboard, he cranked the slide and chambered a round. A police sedan pulled up alongside. C.R. Black was driving and Fordyce was in the passenger seat. Both were wearing black bulletproof vests.
"Where do you want us?" Black asked.
"Take the back."
Black gave a thumbs up gesture and drove off. With his headlamps off, he turned into a driveway leading to the rear of the building.
Stepanovich and Arredondo climbed out of the car and jogged across the street and up a flight of steps to the first landing. Stepanovich pulled out his revolver and they crept cautiously down the landing to Apartment 203. They deployed on either side of the door. Stepanovich felt his heart beating powerfully, his fingers tingling. "Police!" he yelled. Hearing the sound of running inside, he aimed a powerful kick directly at the doorknob. The doorjamb splintered and the door flew open.
A woman shrieked as Stepanovich ran inside, Arredondo right behind. Pepe Gomez had one leg over the windowsill of the open rear window. "Hands up!" Stepanovich shouted, aiming his revolver at the man's chest. Gomez raised his hands. Arredondo ran into the other room.
Stepanovich thought of the little girl lying on the carpet in the church as he assumed the combat stance and aimed his Smith & Wesson directly at Pepe Gomez's kill zone. There were no witnesses present. At that moment, with his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, he considered wasting Gomez. He could let him have it and later say Gomez had reached into his waistband for what
I request that this information remain confidential because disclosure may endanger Source A.
Satisfied that all the information he'd developed was contained in the search warrant, Stepanovich corrected a few minor typos in the draft, and went upstairs to the divisional copying machine. After waiting for a secretary to finish running off the division bowling league standings, he made the twelve copies of the search warrant required by the district attorney's office.
At six Stepanovich and Arredondo stopped by the L.A. County Courthouse, where a muscle bound deputy marshal in a tailored uniform showed them into the chambers of the duty judge, a young red haired woman whom Stepanovich remembered as having lost most of her cases while a city prosecutor. She reviewed the search warrant carefully, asked a couple of perfunctory questions, then signed both the search warrant and an arrest warrant for Greenie.
It was dusk when Stepanovich and Arredondo left the courthouse. As they climbed into the unmarked car, Stepanovich lifted the radio microphone from the dashboard hook and called Harger. He responded promptly.
"The warrant is signed."
"Good work."
As they were driving toward Greenie's apartment over the Third Street Bridge from downtown into East L.A., Harger's voice crackled over the police radio as he transmitted staccato instructions to the members of the task force concerning the search warrant operation.
Stepanovich turned right onto Eighteenth Street and drove slowly past rundown apartment houses and residential courts. It was now dark and the street was quiet.
At the end of the block he pulled up across the street from the Florentine Gardens housing project, a graffiti covered cluster of pale green cement block apartment houses linked by outdoor clotheslines, community trash receptacles, and unmowed patches of grass. He drove along a little farther, checking the addresses painted on the curb. Stepanovich had served numerous other search warrants in the project. Familiar with its layout, he looked up to the second floor and counted apartments from east to west. Using binoculars from the glove compartment, he located the apartment listed in the search warrant as Greenie's. There was a light on.
Arredondo reached behind the passenger seat and hoisted a pump shotgun into the front seat. Keeping it aimed at the floorboard, he cranked the slide and chambered a round. A police sedan pulled up alongside. C.R. Black was driving and Fordyce was in the passenger seat. Both were wearing black bulletproof vests.
"Where do you want us?" Black asked.
"Take the back."
Black gave a thumbs up gesture and drove off. With his headlamps off, he turned into a driveway leading to the rear of the building.
Stepanovich and Arredondo climbed out of the car and jogged across the street and up a flight of steps to the first landing. Stepanovich pulled out his revolver and they crept cautiously down the landing to Apartment 203. They deployed on either side of the door. Stepanovich felt his heart beating powerfully, his fingers tingling. "Police!" he yelled. Hearing the sound of running inside, he aimed a powerful kick directly at the doorknob. The doorjamb splintered and the door flew open.
A woman shrieked as Stepanovich ran inside, Arredondo right behind. Pepe Gomez had one leg over the windowsill of the open rear window. "Hands up!" Stepanovich shouted, aiming his revolver at the man's chest. Gomez raised his hands. Arredondo ran into the other room.
Stepanovich thought of the little girl lying on the carpet in the church as he assumed the combat stance and aimed his Smith & Wesson directly at Pepe Gomez's kill zone. There were no witnesses present. At that moment, with his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, he considered wasting Gomez. He could let him have it and later say Gomez had reached into his waistband for what
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