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Overview
The debut novel from longtime Brooklyn district attorney Charles "Joe" Hynes, Triple Homicide is the gritty saga of two generations of New York City police officers fighting to stay on the right side of the law.
In the early 1990s in New York, easy money stands to be made at every turn, and temptation proves a bitter struggle for the young and much-decorated NYPD Sergeant Steven Holt---and for Steven and his uncle Robert, an officer before him, an increasingly violent mess endangers their careers and the reputation of the entire department.
Born out of real stories of corruption and centered around two men who ultimately dare to challenge the fabled "blue wall" of silence, the novel works toward a majestic courtroom on Long Island, where Sergeant Holt is about to stand trial for triple homicide and where, as he comes to know his past, he'll learn that nothing he's known has ever been as it seemed.
In its intense telling by one of the only writers who could write it with such realism, the story uncovers decades of deceit and corruption that infiltrate families and threaten to ruin the force. Reflecting the proud yet troubled history of the NYPD, Charles Hynes's debut is a searing, up-close portrait of the men and women who live---and die---in the pursuit of criminal justice.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781429962544 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | St. Martin's Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 03/26/2024 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 289 |
| Sales rank: | 299,727 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
CHARLES J. HYNES has been the district attorney of Brooklyn, New York, for seventeen years. A veteran trial lawyer, he earned his spurs as the special prosecutor appointed by Governor Mario Cuomo in the famous 1987 Howard Beach murder case. He also teaches at St. John's, Fordham, and Brooklyn law schools. He lives in Brooklyn, and Triple Homicide is his first novel.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Suffolk County, Long Island, New York, December 20, 1990, 7:30 A.M.
"Oh my God, David." Alyson Keeler sobbed uncontrollably at her gruesome discovery. "Come here, quickly," she pleaded, her body trembling.
Alyson had soft blond hair with streaks of chestnut, worn slightly above her shoulders. Her large hazel eyes were deeply set above high cheekbones in an oval-shaped face. Her aquiline nose was neatly sculpted, and her lips were drawn up in what seemed to be a perpetual smile. She was very pretty, perhaps even beautiful, but this morning her lovely face was twisted by fear, contorted with revulsion at the sight of what lay on the ground only a few feet away from where she stood. She looked at the bodies lying there and then looked away, only to look back again. She repeated this sequence a few times until her fiancé, twenty-three-year-old David Rapp, joined her and held her closely, protectively. The bodies of two young men, who appeared to be in their early thirties, lay there on the snow-covered beach looking peaceful enough, staring skyward. A brief glance might have suggested that they were lost in contemplation of their majestic surroundings. But on close examination, each man had a bullet hole on the left side of his temple, haloed with a small pool of coagulated, frozen blood.
Alyson Keeler, twenty-one years old, was a sophomore at the Stony Brook campus of SUNY, or the State University of New York, located in Long Island's Suffolk County. She was enrolled in the school's premed honors program. David was in his third year of premed at the same school. They had driven earlier that morning to Robert Moses State Park, named for New York's notorious master builder. They arrived early enough to see daybreak. It was their favorite time of day at their favorite place.
Alyson's shocking discovery was two dead men dressed in denim shirts and trousers. They wore canvas jackets with cheap imitation black fur collars and sleeves. Their footwear was worn black work boots.
When she had somewhat recovered, Alyson used a nearby phone booth to summon police. As soon as Alyson's call to the Suffolk County 911 Police Emergency Operation Center was transmitted to a police car patrolling the perimeter of the park, every emergency unit with a police monitoring scanner would, with flashing red lights and blasting sirens, begin to roar toward Robert Moses State Park. Police cruisers from both the Suffolk County Police Department and the New York State Police, fire engines, emergency medical vans, and investigators from the Suffolk County district attorney's office would soon be joined by a full armada of news media.
Two murdered men found five days before Christmas in a crime-free suburban state park was a twenty-four-hour news story. Who these murdered men were would only increase the interest.
The first responding police officers notified their patrol sergeant. "We got two male Hispanics, apparently shot to death with one bullet each to the head. It looks like they were carried here from the main road after they were shot. We found pay stubs — probably their own — from a factory in Brooklyn on each of the bodies."
Ned Leon, the on-duty reporter for Long Island's cable television Channel 21, was the first reporter to hear the call over his police scanner, which was mounted on the dashboard of his mobile van, along with his unauthorized red police emergency light. Leon had been a police reporter for more than a dozen years, having spent much of his early days with the now-defunct Long Island Press. His heavy drinking and chain-smoking were habits he intentionally acquired trying to fit the image of a hard-bitten, leather-tough street crime reporter. These abuses were having predictable results on Ned Leon, who was afflicted with chronic coughing and bleeding ulcers and the sad and drawn look of an old man. Leon and, for that matter, all so-called police reporters loved the trappings or the instruments of police authority. Some carried phony police badges, and some even carried licensed guns. They flaunted these symbols, without having to deal with the awesome responsibilities and the dangers faced by real cops. Still, Ned was respected by the cops and the other police reporters because he had the uncanny investigative skills of a street detective. His ability to analyze raw data often led to the solution of a case before an arrest was made.
Two Hispanics killed execution style in 1990 meant one of only two things to Ned Leon: These two victims were taken out in a bad drug deal in Brooklyn, or the murders were racially motivated. A veteran reporter like Leon, whose workday went from idle speculation to the ugly reality of homicide, abused wives, and abandoned kids, could not conceive of any other reason. Since the factory where the two murdered brothers, Hiram and Ramon Rodriguez, were employed was in a notorious Brooklyn neighborhood where drug-related murder was commonplace, and since race relations in New York City, and even its eastern neighbor counties of Nassau and Suffolk, could not have been worse, Ned Leon's guesses were not merely cynical. But his conclusion wasn't even close.
"Jimmy," said Suffolk County Police Chief of Detectives Phil Pitelli, "my homicide detectives think that those two guys we found in Moses State Park yesterday morning were killed by a city cop."
"What proof do they have?" DA James Crowley demanded.
"Frankly," Pitelli responded slowly, "they don't have much other than a few facts and a cop's instincts. The ME places the time of death, based on the degree of rigor mortis, sometime between six and eight hours before the bodies were discovered. Since the victims were from Brooklyn, my guys figure that they were killed there and brought to Moses to be dumped." Pitelli waited for DA Crowley to respond. When he didn't, the chief continued.
"The doc retrieved two rounds, one from the head of each victim. Our ballistics lab identified the rounds as those used in a .38-caliber Police Special, which, as you know, is a revolver issued to the NYPD. And then there's this: A gas station attendant on the Northern State Parkway gave a fill-up to a guy in a van about two in the morning of the twentieth, the day the bodies were found. He said that the driver looked like a cop and that the two passengers in the van also looked like cops. Finally, the attendant said that when the driver took out his wallet to pay for the gas he had a gun butt protruding from his waistband."
"Well," Crowley observed, "now if we only had a confession."
"Now, Jimmy," Pitelli scolded, "just be patient. My guys are working with the NYPD's Internal Affairs. Who knows, if we get the right photo maybe we'll have your confession."
"Why not?" replied Crowley. "With thirty thousand city cops, maybe you'll get lucky and give me that confession before my term ends in '93."
CHAPTER 2
Kenny Rattigan, 1990 and 1991
In 1989, W. Carlton Richardson won a stunning victory to become New York City's first African American mayor. The Brooklyn district attorney, Sherman "Buddy" Cooper, an old friend and ally of Richardson, recommended Kenneth J. Rattigan, his Rackets Bureau chief, as Richardson's first corporation counsel. The corporation counsel is the city's lawyer, whose staff represents all New York City agencies in claims brought against them. Traditionally, the corporation counsel is not only the mayor's chief lawyer but also his closest confidant. District Attorney Cooper thought Kenny Rattigan was a perfect choice. Rattigan's judgment was near flawless, and he was fiercely loyal.
As Rattigan was completing his first year, he was loving every minute of the job. Despite no experience on the civil side of the practice of law, Rattigan adjusted by recruiting first-rate lawyers with extensive experience in a number of specialties, including corporate, financial, and real estate law, as well as hard-fisted trial lawyers he deployed to the combat zone of negligence law. Rattigan particularly enjoyed being part of the mayor's inner circle with its direct access to Richardson, giving him a say in virtually all major policy decisions.
Following the appointment of the corporation counsel, the next critical appointment is the police commissioner. Since Kenny Rattigan was the only member of Richardson's cabinet to have experience in law enforcement, the mayor accepted his recommendation and appointed a little-known captain, Sean J. Nevins. It was a startling development that sent shock waves throughout the hierarchy of the police department. It would also set in motion a major offensive on one of the department's most enduring problems, police corruption. The appointment did much to establish Rattigan's influence with Mayor Richardson.
Mayor Richardson's power base was Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant section and South Jamaica in Queens County, both black enclaves, every bit as rich in African American tradition as Manhattan's world-famous Harlem. The rivalry among these communities was mostly friendly except when it came to politics. Richardson filled his inner circle with his political supporters, who were in the main African Americans, leaving Corporation Counsel Rattigan very much in the minority. But he looked forward to each new day and each new challenge, and he enjoyed fending off the good-natured comments from the other members of the mayor's kitchen cabinet, especially one deputy mayor who would wonder aloud, "Does our white guy have any colorful thoughts this morning?"
The daily meetings at Gracie Mansion began promptly at seven o'clock and quickly became free-for-alls — loud debates presided over by Richardson, a workaholic who seemed driven by the need to prove himself all over again every day. The exhilaration of each morning's often fierce debates was for Kenny a natural high, and it filled the vacuum created by the separation from his first love, the battleground of the trial court.
But Rattigan's time at the mayor's elbow soon ended. In November 1990, Sean Patrick, who had served as the Queens County district attorney for more than a dozen years, suddenly resigned. At Mayor Richardson's urging, New York State's governor and fellow Democrat David Laurel appointed Kenneth Rattigan the interim Queens County DA. The appointment would last until the next general election, in November 1991. The mayor convinced Rattigan to take a shot at elective office. He promised and delivered the support of the powerful African American community in South Jamaica, and in November Kenny Rattigan was easily elected to fill the remainder of Patrick's term.
"Kenny, it's Rose. The boss wants you." Rose Chauf was Brooklyn DA Cooper's longtime secretary and confidant. To Kenny Rattigan, despite the fact that he and District Attorney Cooper were colleagues, Cooper would always be the boss.
"Kenny, I have some terrible news." Cooper knew that Rattigan would be shocked, so he chose his words carefully and uttered them very slowly. "The Suffolk cops have been investigating the murder of two young Hispanics found shot to death in Robert Moses State Park."
"Yeah, Boss," Rattigan interrupted, "I remember the case."
"Well, they were tipped by telephone, anonymously," Cooper continued, "that if they searched a certain factory in Brooklyn they would find the body of Scott Ruben, a cop who disappeared some time ago. The caller added that the guy who murdered all three was a New York City police officer and that if they recovered his gun, they would have all the evidence that they needed."
"Who's the cop, Boss?" Rattigan asked anxiously.
Cooper replied, "The caller said that it was a Sergeant Steven Holt."
"Ah, that's just bullshit, Boss." Rattigan was angry.
"Wait a minute, Kenny. The medical examiner's office checked the dental records of the corpse found in the warehouse, and it was identified as the body of Scott Ruben. The word is that Steven was furious when Ruben somehow managed to avoid being arrested in that roundup of all those corrupt cops last year."
"Yeah, but that's quite a leap to conclude that he killed him."
"But Kenny, what if the tip is right about Steven's gun?"
"I still wouldn't believe it, Boss. Hey, I'm sorry, I gotta make a call." With that, Rattigan abruptly ended the conversation.
*
Rattigan's first call was to Robert Mulvey, retired and living with his family in upstate New York.
"Robert." Rattigan tried to sound casual. "How do I find your nephew?"
"He's still at the Seven-five in East New York over in Brooklyn. Is there a problem?"
"Nah," replied Rattigan, "a question came up about a case we worked on."
"Seven-five Precinct, PAA Sloan, how can I help you?
"May I please speak with Sergeant Holt? This is a personal call."
"May I tell him who is calling?" responded the police administrative assistant, a civilian working for the department.
"Sure, this is the Queens County district attorney, Ken Rattigan, but this call is unofficial."
Moments later, the PAA was back on the phone. "I'm sorry, Mr. District Attorney, but Sergeant Holt is in conference, and he can't be interrupted. I'll tell him you called."
CHAPTER 3
East New York, Brooklyn, the 75th Precinct, April 23, 1991
Inspector Thomas Newell and Sergeant Reggie Jobloviski, both of Internal Affairs, greeted Sergeant Steven Holt. Holt had met both men some months before when he was interviewed by them for a position in the Internal Affairs Bureau of the New York City Police Department. Shortly after the arrests in a major police corruption case in Brooklyn during 1990, Holt had responded to a departmental order issued by Police Commissioner Sean Nevins inviting officers of all ranks to apply for a transfer to a "new" Internal Affairs Bureau.
While both Newell and Jobloviski were impressed with Holt's intelligence, enthusiasm, and knowledge of corruption, particularly what he said about its causes and various strategies he thought should be used to contain it, they were not inclined to recommend him for transfer to the revamped corruption unit for two reasons. First, his age. He was, after all, the youngest sergeant in the police department. Second, his answers to some of their questions suggested that he needed more maturity. They were particularly concerned that he considered the elimination of police corruption not only a priority mission for the department but a personal passion.
Sergeant Jobloviski concluded in his report that Holt's application for a transfer to IAB should be put on hold for a year or two to allow him more patrol experience and time to gain the necessary maturity. "The applicant is very bright and will surely hit a fast promotional track, but at this stage of his career, his concerns about corruption allegations within the department cloud his objectivity and judgment," he wrote.
Today, though, Inspector Newell and Sergeant Jobloviski were not in the captain's office at the 75th Precinct to discuss Holt's transfer application. Steven was puzzled to see others in the room, particularly a few uniformed officers with shoulder patches identifying them as members of the Suffolk County Police Department.
Inspector Newell made the introductions. "Sergeant Holt, this is Assistant Chief Phil Pitelli, chief of detectives for Suffolk County. Detective Sergeant Brenda Murphy, who is in charge of the Homicide Division for the Suffolk County Police Department, and Assistant District Attorney Wallace Goss, chief of the Suffolk County district attorney's Homicide Bureau."
The scene would have been comical with all of these people jammed into the captain's modest-sized office except everyone's face was so solemn.
"These folks would like to ask you a few questions, Steven. Any problem with that?" Newell continued.
"None that I can think of, sir," Holt replied.
Chief Pitelli motioned to Sergeant Murphy and said, "Brenda, why don't you begin."
"Sergeant, how well did you know Police Officer Scott Ruben?"
Holt was immediately curious, because Sergeant Murphy referred to Ruben in the past tense.
"Not well at all. We both work here at the 75th Precinct, but he works a steady tour supervised by another sergeant."
"And who is that?" she asked.
"There are several. I don't recall their names."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Triple Homicide"
by .
Copyright © 2007 Charles Hynes.
Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
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