The Mamacita Murders (33 page)

“Did you get an intuition before that drive-by happened?” asks Fox.

“Maybe so. I
was
dressed like a mob wife that night,” I say nervously, speaking before thinking.

“Excuse me? The Mafia is in the Airstream now? Explain that to us, Ms. Ruiz,” says Fox dramatically.

“We were learning about crimes and how sometimes the whole family enables it. Gang members in this county have their girlfriends and wives hold drugs and guns when police pull them over. It’s similar to mob wives. When they’re in jail, gang members have women bring drugs into the facilities. Through jail calls, they use women to arrange drug deals and murder hits. Look at your client and how she tried to kill her own daughter for Javier who was in jail facing serious charges,” I say firmly.

“Is it possible your gang-banging mob outfit provoked the drive-by shooting that night?”

“No, I was in a long red dress, not a jersey, knee high socks, and Nike Cortez,” I counter as Fox returns to the podium and flips through his notes.

“Ma’am, isn’t it true that you were dressed the other night in a pin-up like Lady Justice?”

“It wasn’t Lady Justice, it was Eight of Swords. I was at the Airstream talking to girls about domestic violence.”

“You had a blindfold and a sword with you. Isn’t that what Lady Justice looks like?”

“Yeah,
and
Eight of Swords.”

“Call it what you want. Eight of Swords or Lady Justice. But that’s how Laura was found. You realize that don’t you?”

“Yes, I found her.”

“You didn’t blindfold her yourself, did you?”

“Objection,” says Tanner.

“Overruled,” says Judge Hoffman.

I look at Judge Hoffman and squint my eyes so hard it almost gives me a headache.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, Mr. Fox. But whatever it is, it is completely inappropriate. I’m going to allow Ms. Ruiz to answer this question, but I want you move on,” says Judge Hoffman.

I shift my glare to Fox.

“Laura was blindfolded with a sock and tied up with a belt with rhinestones that had your client’s DNA all over it. She looked like Lady Eight of Swords, an image I didn’t even know existed until after I found Laura. And my blindfold is made of Japanese silk, not a dirty man’s sock.”

“Did you find your silk blindfold in a sex store along with the rest of your pin-up costumes?”

“No!” I scream, looking straight at Fox without flinching amidst the tears rolling down my face.

“Is it something from your past that causes you to want to adopt an alter-ego?” Fox asks.

Fox knows about my past from that one night I confided in him and as tempted as I am to bring up his attempt to make out with me and his halitosis breath, I stop and compose myself.

“I think we all wish we could be something different,” I say.

“And you encourage the girls you mentor to become pin-up models?”

“No, I encourage them to learn from the models.”

“What on earth could these girls learn from pin-up models?”

“I don’t know what you’re suggesting. But I think we could all learn from them. Especially how to fix our pasts. I wish I could go back and help my mom the day she died. But the truth is that we’re all human, we’re not perfect, and we make mistakes. But we can learn from them. That’s what the girls learn from the pin-up models. How to fix our pasts. The same thing the girls have taught me,” I say, trying my best to keep my calm.

“Have you thought of dressing up as a police pin-up or just being yourself, as a prosecutor pin-up to teach these girls how to obey the law?”

“I’m trying to build a rapport with these girls, not a wall. And that doesn’t happen overnight. Or by throwing a police badge in their face. They’ve had negative experiences with police. Does that make any sense to you, Mr. Fox? Because if it doesn’t, maybe you should think about getting out there and serving your community. Especially before you criticize the way I’m doing it,” I say, before Fox shys away from asking his next question and tells Judge Hoffman he’s done.

After a quick ten minute recess, Tanner doesn’t waste any time standing up to start his redirect examination on me, the part I like the most.

“Ma’am, you mentioned earlier that one of your pin-up costumes is Trailer Hillbilly. Do you realize that some of our jurors live in mobile home parks?”

“Yes, I grew up in one, too,” I say, thinking back to jury selection when I had to allieviate Tanner’s concerns about trailer park residents being appropriate jurors.

“Just out of curiosity, what lesson are you trying to teach the girls with your Trailer Hillbilly pin-up?”

“Trailer Hillbilly teaches us about stereotypes. There’s all kinds of jokes about trailer park trash that these girls are subjected to every day. We use the pin-up as a way to teach tolerance. Stereotyping and jokes lead to bullying. Most of these girls have been bullied or wind up bullying themselves. So Trailer Park Hillbilly is a big part of The Mamacita Club.”

“What about Carmen Miranda?”

“It’s a pin-up I use to identify with them, like my J-Lo one. Many of our girls are Latina and don’t have a positive role model in their lives. Plus, with economic times being hard, people blame lower class citizens or illegal immigrants for their problems, most of whom are Latinos in this county. It’s the same type of discrimination that led to things like the Holocaust and other race wars.”

“What about Angel Gabriel?” Tanner asks.

“Aside from being a certified angel reader, Angela uses that pin-up to teach the girls we all have angels. It gives them a sense of hope, something they have very little of. We also use Angel Gabriel to teach tolerance for homosexuality and the dangers of sex discrimination, like the discussion earlier about Angel Gabriel being female or male; it shouldn’t matter. Young people everywhere struggle with identity issues. Kids are bullied over this. We teach them to be comfortable in their own skin and accept everyone regardless of their sexual preference,” I say.

“It seems like The Mamacita Club is like your family. Is that an accurate characterization?” Tanner asks.

“It’s the closest thing I have to a family,” I reply.

“And what about Eight of Swords that you were recently wearing? What were you trying to show the girls with that?”

“Just that we women are blind when we’re subjected to violence. I teach the women that they just need to remove their own blindfold and find the key to the lives and the home they want to have. I encourage them to dig deep and listen to their guts and hearts, because they hold the answers,” I say.

“Can you tell the jury a little more about what you mean when you say victims of violence are blind?” Tanner asks.

“Objection, relevance,” says Fox, starting to stand up.

“Overruled. You opened this door with your questioning,” says Judge Hoffman, smiling at Tanner.

“The girls all know about my mom,” I say. “I’ve discussed with them how she had her own blindfold on, not realizing how dangerous the situation was that she stayed in. And the mistakes she made putting herself in harm’s way. So I use my mom as an example of a victim who could have removed her own blindfold to find the key to free herself. She just didn’t do it soon enough.”

I stay strong, being Grace Under Pressure, but hear a couple jurors grabbing tissues out of the box.

“And just a couple more questions,” Tanner says. “Fox asked if you got your silk blindfold from a sex store. Can you please tell the jury where you got it from?”

“Objection, relevance,” blurts out Fox.

“Overruled; you opened the door on this,” says Judge Hoffman.

“It was my mom’s. It came as part of a set I bought her with a silk Japanese kimono that she was found murdered in. That, her diary, and some photos are the only things I have left of her.”

“Can you tell the jury what personally inspired your pinup theme.”

“My mom loved pin-up models. Her favorites were the Vargas Girls. She loved old-time classic movies like
It’s a Wonderful Life
and actresses like Rita Hayworth and Betty Grable. Growing up, I loved to watch her put her powder and lipstick on when my stepfather wasn’t around. She was so beautiful and always wanted to put her hair in pin-curls, but my stepfather never let her.”

“Did you bring a photo with you today?”

“I did.”

“Why’d you bring it?”

“Objection, Your Honor. I haven’t seen this photo before,” says Fox.

“He opened the door on cross-examination asking her questions about her pin-up costumes. The photo supports what she’s told this jury,” Tanner says.

“Overruled. Go ahead and answer,” says Judge Hoffman.

“I’ve always carried it with me. This is the last picture my mom took.”

“Your Honor, may I publish the photo Ms. Ruiz has with her to to the jury?” asks Tanner.

“It will need to be admitted into evidence as an exhibit,” says Fox.

“No, it won’t, Mr. Fox. And yes, you may put it on the screen,” says Judge Hoffman.

After I give Tanner the photo, he publishes the most beautiful picture of my mom, in pin-curls, dark hair, and glamorous. I smile at her as she projects life-size in the courtroom.

“Where was this photo taken?” Tanner asks.

“Here in Tuckford County,” I say.

“Under what circumstances?” Tanner asks.

“One day, when my stepfather was at work, my mom got all dolled up, put her hair in pin-curls, and put on this fancy dress. It was around the holidays and we went to the local market where they had an old-fashioned photo booth with a vintage photographer. The man even had a black boa that he let her wear. It was the prettiest I had ever seen my mom. She gave me the photo to hold so my stepfather wouldn’t see it.

“When we got home, we snuck back in and my mom went to the bathroom to undress; but she forgot to take her makeup off. When she came out, my stepfather, who was drunk, became suspicious about where she had been. I ran to my room while my stepfather chased my mom around the house, accusing her of sleeping around.

“My mom came into my room pleading with me to show the photo to my stepfather so he would believe her. But I stayed under my covers and never let go of the photo. My stepfather came in and dragged her into the next room, where he killed her. I still wonder every day if she’d still be alive if I just showed him the photo.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I hesitate, thinking hard why I didn’t, before answering. “I think I was mad at her,” I say truthfully.

“For what?”

“Making me do something I didn’t want to,” I say regrettfully.

“You didn’t want to help save her?”

I look down and clasp my fingers together in my lap to catch a few teardrops. Then, I look up towards my mom’s photo, still being projected. “I was twelve and scared. I wanted her to save herself. And save me,” I say timidly, beginning to understand my past for the first time.

“Thank you. Nothing further,” says Tanner, picking up his notepad and walking away from the podium, glaring at Fox.

I hear my mom’s voice. “Gaby, I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. And I didn’t protect us. I didn’t make the life for you that you deserved. But you can.

“This case is not about what happened to me. This case is about Mrs. Sanchez, who tried to kill her daughter. You have done nothing wrong. Let it go. You have a greater mission in life to do what you need to do. And one of those things is waiting for you outside. Dry your eyes and get along. I love you,” says my mom.

There’s nothing more annoying than watching a defense attorney who tries to shift the whole focus on one thing, and it’s me in this case. It’s a beginner criminal defense tactic and Fox decided to make it about my personal life. It’s all because he knew how sensitive my mom’s case still is to me.

The death of my mom and the helplessness I still feel from time to time for not saving her is sometimes debilitating. All the glimmers of hope and progress in dealing with her death, including my trip to the Walled City and meeting Señor Luis Santiago-Borges, seem to be erased. These are little reminders that I have not fully coped with my mom’s death.

I walk down the corridor of the courthouse. My cell phone rings and the caller ID says it’s Christina’s cell phone. I pick up, but the phone disconnects.

I see Dylan walking towards me on the sidewalk. He gives me a big hug and warm smile.

“Are you okay?” says Dylan.

“I’m just shaken up a little,” I say, still startled from my testimony.

“I heard he was trying to suggest you were somehow involved in what happened to Laura and Cruz,” says Dylan.

“He has no idea the pain I carry for being the last person to see them. It’s like he wanted to remind me that I could have done something to help them,” I say sadly, thinking of everything I could have done to help my mom. “I’m wondering what the jury is thinking of all this,” I say.

“They’re not buying any of the defense. I’m proud of you,” says Dylan fondly.

“For what?” I say.

“For standing up for yourself and not letting that A-hole Fox have his way with you. Word spreads quickly through the court and police department. Everyone thought you came across great. Really sympathetic. Good job, Gaby.”