Angel's Moon

The watcher pushed off the wall he had been leaning on. His eyes, hidden behind dark glasses, followed his prey. A moment ago, the young men walked out of the office building on the other side of the street. They turned, laughing, not a care in the world, strolling in his direction. Totally alert, on edge now, his manner all business, a professional. They would be in the kill zone in less than a minute. For the umpteenth time today he checked the bars on his phone. Methodically, he dialed all but the last digit of the number engrained in his memory. He was ready. On the fifth floor an ecstatic Joanna Castro, Cochise County’s Deputy County Attorney thought, so far so good. Just as soon as her morning meeting with the Rynning brothers ended, she hustled into her boss’ office and reported in. Castro said, “They’re going to be great on the stand sir. All three of them, Larry, Jimmy, and Craig Rynning are willing to testify they saw the whole thing. I have about another hour with them lined up for after lunch. We’ll be set. Both Hector and Aliberto Castaneda are going to go down. It sure is gratifying some people in this town are stand-up guys.” County Attorney Felix Burgos said, “That’s good news Joanna. For a while there, I had the impression we would lose everybody.” Castro and Burgos discussed the near collapse of their case against the Castanedas. Hector and Aliberto, cousins, also illegal alien enforcers for the Mexican drug syndicate, a month earlier in Sierra Vista, Arizona, brutally murdered Juan “Puggy” Puga. Puga a known high level drug trafficker worked for the same cartel. On the fourth day of August, Puga, the Rynnings, and twenty-five other people took pleasure in enjoying a late afternoon beverage at Blaine’s Tavern, one of Sierra Vista’s favorite watering holes. Typical of popular taverns everywhere, no one noticed all the comings and goings, but when somebody or something unusual stood out everyone paid attention. Most of the customers, just regular guys and women, stopped in for one or two cold ones. Some to see friends before heading home after work. People greeted one another with hellos and goodbyes or maybe a nod others were snubbed. Everyone purposely ignored the Castaneda cousins. It seemed nobody but Puggy, a tough but likeable forty-two year old ex-bouncer, knew them. According to some of the customers gathered in the vicinity of Puggy, he and the Castanedas exchanged friendly hellos. Some heard the cousins tell Puggy they had something for him outside. Puggy signaled the bartender not to take his drink, that he would be right back. He then followed Hector and Aliberto, both twenty-four years old, six foot, two hundred forty pound, heavily tattooed, scary-looking Latinos out the side door to the parking lot. Within minutes, a commotion transpired. Patrons closest to the exit door opened it and went outside. Yelling and foul language, in both English and Spanish, could be heard. Loud reports ensued. Noises like a dirty rug strung up for cleaning being whacked. Within seconds, everybody went out to the parking lot. Puggy shrieked in pain. Both cousins beat him with three foot long crowbars. They cursed at Puggy who had fallen to the ground and tried to regain his feet. As Puggy struggled to get up, Aliberto Castaneda swung his weapon into Puggy’s head, crushing his nose. Everyone heard the impact, bones breaking, cartilage popping. They saw the blood burst from Puggy’s broken face. The cousins beat Puga unmercifully all over his head and body as he vainly attempted to ward off the blows. Several people called the police on their cell phones. Hector and Aliberto screamed at Puggy, calling him a stupid thief. They yelled that he couldn’t steal from El Jefe. A couple of the men in the crowd hollered for them to stop, but no one attempted to intercede. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Finally the cousins, tired of swinging the heavy steel bars in the intense Arizona heat, stopped the beating and ran. Puga lay motionless on the pavement. He bled profusely from his mouth, nose, ears, and numerous cuts. When the Sierra Vista police arrived, they immediately called an ambulance for Puggy. The officers put out an all-points bulletin for the Castanedas based on descriptions from the many eyewitnesses. The police obtained names, addresses, and took statements from each of the bar’s patrons before allowing them to leave. Cochise County Sheriff’s Deputies took the cousins into custody by as they raced down Highway 92 heading for the Naco border crossing to Mexico. The crowbars used in the assault disappeared. However, later that night the police located all of the witnesses and brought them to the police station to identify Hector and Aliberto. Twenty-eight people made positive identifications. A slam-dunk if there ever was one. But that was then. At 3:12 a.m. the next morning, Juan Puga died in Sierra Vista Regional Hospital. The doctors determined he bled out from massive internal injuries. Puga had slipped into a coma and never regained consciousness. The charges against the Castanedas changed from attempted murder to murder in the first degree. Castro, an ambitious prosecutor looking to establish an impressive track record, begged Burgos for the assignment to litigate the case. Over the next two weeks, Castro re-interviewed the witnesses. They all previously gave statements and cooperated with the police. After the local newspaper reported whom the Castanedas worked for, twenty-five of the witnesses recanted. Scared shitless they could no longer identify Hector and Aliberto. They had been drinking. Several shared a joint before the incident. Memories faded. They couldn’t be sure. All those Mexicans look alike. Sorry but they made a mistake. All the witnesses had endless excuses except Larry, Jimmy, and Craig Rynning that is. Born and raised in Sierra Vista the brothers all previously played football for Buena High School, defensive backs because of their slight builds. Larry, the oldest at twenty-seven, married his high school sweetheart, and fathered three little girls. Larry worked as a plumber. Jimmy was twenty-five. He and his wife had a two year old son, Jimmy Junior. He worked as an electrician. Craig a carpenter, twenty-three years old, was single. All three brothers worked for union contractors doing prevailing wage jobs inside the Fort Huachuca military base. They all told Joanna Castro, of course they were afraid, but they lived here and somebody had to stand up. Today, they agreed to come back after lunch to go over the individual testimony they would each give before the grand jury that would determine if the case should go to trial. The Rynnings used the elevator to come down from the fifth floor offices. Castro recommended Kiki’s Restaurant, on the same side as the county building, right down the block and across one street. She said her office sent all their visitors there. They had great food and friendly service. As they walked, Larry and Jimmy both called home on their cell phones, telling their wives it looked like they would be home early this afternoon. Larry recounted the morning’s events to his wife, Suzi, and asked to speak with the girls. Suzi reminded him Lori, the oldest at five, had not returned home from kindergarten yet. She put four year old Kimmie on. He said, “Hi baby. How’s my pretty little girl doin’ today? Kimmie replied, “Hello daddy. I made you a picture this morning. It’s a drawing of you and mommy, me and Lori and Jill all holding hands.” “Oh honey, thank you so much. I need something for the wall over my desk. I think I’ll hang it there. Would that be okay?” “Yes daddy. Do you want to talk to Jill now?” “Yes please.” Jill, who was three, said, “Hi daddy. I’m helping mommy vacuum, what are you doing?” Larry replied, “Hi to you, Jill. Thank you for helping mom. I’m with Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Craig. They both say hi and send kisses. Put mommy back on okay?” Suzi asked, “