probably here to ask about the incident?”
Mike clearly thought Jack was a cop, and Jack would not dissuade him of that notion if it would get the man talking.
“I know you spoke to one of my colleagues, but if I could hear your story firsthand, it might help my investigation.”
“Happy to. Damn shame. Nice family. The little girl used to ride her tricycle on the sidewalk and come to my house on Halloween.”
“Anything you can recount would be a help,” Jack said, wanting to keep the man on point.
“Not much to say. I was doing a little gardening on the side of the garage, and I head a Bap! Or a Pop! It sounded like a motor scooter backfiring. Nothing more. It was glass shattering that got my attention. I started up the driveway toward the street, and heard bap, bap , as a Toyota drove by. Gray or white, older. I glanced down the block as the young man fell onto the pavement and I saw Juan crawling behind an old car that was parked there with the trunk open. When I realized what had happened, I jumped back behind the fence in case there was any more shooting. I pulled out my cell and dialed 911.”
“So you heard, pop, pop , and saw the car.”
Mike nodded his head.
“Were the windows rolled down?”
“No.”
“Did you see a weapon?”
“No, like I told the other cops, I think the windows were tinted, gray or black. I couldn’t see inside. I thought it was just a car driving up the street, a coincidence. I didn’t put two and two together until I saw the kid fall to the ground. I heard his head smack against the asphalt. It was sick.”
The order of events bothered Jack and he couldn’t put his finger on why. Sometimes the mind completes a picture and misreads what really happened. It’s why eyewitness accounts could be misleading and innocent men ended up in prison.
“I want you to do me a favor, Mike. Could you re-create exactly where you were on the property, and what you heard and saw as the shooting occurred?”
“You want me to walk through it?” he said irritably, fighting his natural urge to say no.
Jack knew the right tenor of voice to persuade him. “Just take a second.”
“Yeah, sure,” Mike said, audibly sighing. He walked across the driveway next to a narrow bed filled with blue fescue and dark-green Mondo grass. He gazed skyward for a moment, trying to mentally re-create the scene.
“This is where I heard the first shot, and the sound of glass breaking.” He confirmed his position as he spoke. “I started toward the sidewalk,” Mike went that way, walking as he talked. “My view was still blocked by the fence, and then I saw the hood of a car, I think it was a Corolla, and I heard, b ap, bap .”
Mike was standing on the sidewalk now. “The car drove past and I looked up at the Sanchez place and saw the kid fall forward, and Juan crawling. I was in shock for a second, not sure what I was seeing, and when it hit me I pulled back behind the fence. I heard Mrs. Sanchez scream—it was awful—and dialed 911.”
“Just to be clear, you saw the hood of the car and then you heard the second two shots?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Oh yeah,” he said, raising his eyebrows in question. “If I saw the car and then heard the shots fired, how could they have come from the car?”
“Thank you, Mr. Triola. You’ve been a big help.”
“Like I said, anything I can do.”
Jack handed Mike his card. “If you think of anything else, give me a ring? Sometimes things pop up in your mind after the fact that have bearing on the case.”
“Oh, you’re a PI, huh? I thought you were a cop,” Mike said, not happy about being deceived.
“Retired, trying to help the family.”
Mike nodded uncertainly and watched Jack cross the street. He walked slowly back in the direction of the shooting, measuring all the way. The only house that had a clear shot of the Sanchez house seemed to be directly across the street from the shrine. It was a fifties gray-clapboard two-story