T Parker - L. A. Outlaws

He’s close enough to the open rear driver’s-side door that I can crawl into the seat, get on my knees and pull his head and shoulders inside. Then I get out and go around and push him farther onto the seat but by the time I get back inside he’s slumped back to the asphalt. This goes on for a minute or two. There’s blood fucking everywhere. I’m sobbing quietly.

Finally I get a rope from the toolshed and tie it around Lupercio’s chest, under his arms. Dragging him into the backseat of his Lincoln is the single most difficult physical thing I’ve ever done with the exception of giving birth. I throw the machete in after him. I vomit in the darkness over by the fence.

Back in the crane I fire up the electromagnet again and lift the Lincoln onto the tow truck that Phillip left for me. I line up my crushed prize with the big flatbed of the tow truck and set it down with a heavy clunk. Then I shut down the crane, look again at the shot holes in the Plexiglas and wipe the stream of blood from my chin. I’ll owe Phillip for the damage.

Down by the tow truck I take from my satchel the digital camera I stole from Office Depot. I put on my wig and mask. Then I set the trigger delay on the camera, balance it on the roof of a totaled Buick and take Allison’s picture in front of the wrecked Lincoln. It takes me eight shots to get two good ones, where I look victorious and you can really tell what I’m standing in front of, and there’s nothing in the frame that might identify Superior Wrecking & Salvage. I get two shots of Lupercio. I shoot thirty seconds of video, too.

When I’m done I stash the mask in my satchel. I drive the tow truck half a mile down the access road and make a left that leads out to a rock quarry. The night is cool and I can smell standing water. Ahead of me a pit pool glistens flat and shiny as a mirror. I dump the Lincoln.

Fifty minutes later I’m back at the Sunset Tower.

The next evening on TV Hood saw the pictures and video of Allison Murrieta posing with the death car. She sat astride the heap with her knees up and her boot heels hooked into the wreckage, braced on her hands like a cowgirl on a corral. There was smeared blood on the tip of her chin.

Dave Boyer explained that the images he was about to show would be accompanied by a scrambled voice-over supplied by Allison earlier in the day. The voice sounded to Hood just like the one that Boyer had played for the cops at the task force meeting seventeen days ago:

“Hi, Dave, Allison Murrieta here. I’m sure you have the video clip and images I made up for you and I hope you have it on-screen. So your viewers know, Lupercio Maygar is dead in this car. I’m sorry the police couldn’t find him first but they’ve had ten years to do it. This man murdered two brothers down in Valley Center, and those two cops in Bakersfield. Frankly, I’d had enough of him. This city doesn’t need him. Now Suzanne the schoolteacher can go back to work without being hunted down by a killer. And by the way, sorry to the surfer in Huntington Beach-hope your ear is okay, honey. It was an accident! Get tubed and vaya con Dios! ”

Earlier in the day Hood had seen Boyer hustling down a headquarters hallway toward the sheriff’s office. With him were an assistant sheriff, Wyte, two lieutenants and Marlon. Hood was not asked to attend, but Marlon briefed him afterward. He told Hood to watch Boyer’s news show that night and to expect a call when the Allison story was over.

After a commercial for sleeping pills, Boyer was back with video links to three guests-a UCLA law school professor named Mark Tice, UCI professor of social ecology Kimber Wells and Los Angeles Times media reporter Josh Steiner.

Hood picked at a burrito from the corner taquería as he watched the experts.

BOYER: “Professor Tice, give us a briefing here-what exactly are we looking at in legal terms?”

TICE: “The first thing I noticed was that the woman-whoever she is-does not admit to anything criminal. I’d say she’s looking ahead to her day in court. Incidentally, counting the killings that this woman alluded to, Lupercio Maygar was suspected in sixteen Southland murders but never charged.”

BOYER: “Professor Wells, just how possible is it that this woman is a direct descendant of the notorious outlaw Joaquin Murrieta?”

WELLS: “Virtually impossible, Dave. We’re not even sure that the legend of Joaquin Murrieta is based on a true character. True charac ters, more likely.”

BOYER: “But, men being men and outlaws being-”

WELLS: “Right, Dave. If there was a Joaquin Murrieta-and some historians say there were actually three ‘Joaquins’ hunted down by lawmen-then he certainly could have helped conceive a child.”

BOYER: “If she’s not a descendant of Joaquin Murrieta, then who is she, Professor Wells?”

WELLS: “I think she may be co-opting that legend to fuel her alter ego and help justify her actions. It’s also possible that she’s very ill. Schizophrenia with a delusional subset and episodic violence. I’m no psychia-”

BOYER: “Josh Steiner, what’s your take on this?”

STEINER: “I don’t know who she is, but people are fascinated by her. She’s had a hundred inches of ink here in the Times. She’s racked up almost three hours of television coverage over the last three months-that’s right here in a tough media market. She’s gotten the cover of both the L.A. and Orange County weeklies, scores of write-ups and pictures in community newspapers, half a page in People and a fat paragraph, with picture, in Time . We’re getting letters about her every day. Personally, as I go about my everyday living, guess what people are talking about? Allison Murrieta, that’s who. After this thing with Lupercio Maygar, we’ll see Allison get even hotter.”

BOYER: “What are people saying, Josh?”

STEINER: “Most people love her. She’s half Catwoman and half Robin Hood. She’s a superhero with a ’tude. She’s mysterious. She’s beautiful-”

BOYER: “Well, I see you love her-”

STEINER: “She donates to charity! But you know what people really love? This woman takes the victimization that happens in our fear-driven, consumer lifestyle, and she turns it into power. If you ask a hundred people if they’ve ever wanted to express their frustration by swift, decisive action, every last one will say yes. Allison Murrieta turns anger and frustration into something dramatic; she expresses it.”

TICE: “She expresses it through criminal violence, Josh. We’ve seen her commit felonies on TV. That’s a real gun she brandishes-just ask Trent Brown, the surfer she refers to. These are real crimes against real people and real property. I did some rough calculations earlier today. Based on her robberies caught on camera, and the cars she’s allegedly stolen at gunpoint, not counting the vigilante murder of Lupercio Maygar-if Allison was convicted and given minimum recommended sentences, she’d be looking at one hundred and sixty years in prison.”

BOYER: “If she doesn’t stop robbing and stealing, do you think Allison’s going to hurt or kill someone innocent, someone who just happens to be out picking up some KFC for the family?”

WELLS: “It’s inevitable that-”

TICE: “I agree with Kimber.”

STEINER: “Absolutely. That’s one of the reasons people are so fascinated by her.”

BOYER: “Will she stop?

TICE: “I hope so.”

WELLS: “She enjoys it too much.”

STEINER: “She won’t stop. She loves the action and the attention. I guarantee you that she’s watching us right now. She thrives on us just like we thrive on her.”