Grand Jury Minutes, September 21, 1987.
Direct Examination of Detective Sergeant Martin Gittens by Assistant DA Francis X. Boyle.
ADA Boyle: Detective, are you familiar with an apartment on the third floor of the Vienna Road address?
Det. Gittens: Yes, I am. It is a stashpad used by a gang called the Mission Posse.
ADA Boyle: Would you explain to the grand jury what a ‘stashpad’ is?
Det. Gittens: A stashpad is an apartment where drugs and money are kept to be used for restocking the street-corner dealers. To minimize risk, the managers only give the sliders – that’s the dealers – a little bit at a time, usually one bundle. A bundle is one hundred vials. They come wrapped in a long piece of tape, and the sliders peel off the vials one by one as they sell them. In this case, they were selling drugs directly from the apartment as well.
ADA Boyle: What else can you tell the grand jury about that apartment?
Det. Gittens: The apartment is known on the street by its bright red door. Junkies sometimes refer to the crack sold there as ‘red door’ cocaine. The color is significant for two reasons. First, in this neighborhood red is recognized as the color of the Mission Posse. Only Posse members wear it, often with a red bandanna hanging from a pocket or worn as a belt. The use of red on the door is also significant because the crack sold by the Posse comes in vials with a red plastic top. That brand has the street name ‘red top.’ You hear kids talk about a ‘bottle of red top.’
ADA Boyle: And the red-top vial is recognized as the Mission Posse’s packaging for crack?
Det. Gittens: In this area of the city, yes.
ADA Boyle: Now, Detective Gittens, you personally responded to the scene on the night of the shooting, correct?
Det. Gittens: Correct.
ADA Boyle: Did you find any weapons there?
Det. Gittens: Yes, in the back stairwell I found a Mossberg shotgun. I submitted the gun for forensic analysis. Ballistics was able to confirm that the shotgun was the murder weapon. I.D. also was able to identify Harold Braxton’s fingerprints on the gun in four different places. I also found a hooded sweatshirt of Harold Braxton’s in the apartment. I recognized it as his by a distinctive rip and a logo for St John’s University.
ADA Boyle: Was the shotgun tied to Harold Braxton in any other way?
Det. Gittens: Yes, we later spoke to a witness who admitted selling it to Braxton several months before. The witness claimed he’d brought the gun up from Virginia.
ADA Boyle: Detective, based on all this evidence, do you have an opinion as to what happened at 52 Vienna Road last August 17?
Det. Gittens: Yes. In my opinion, Braxton was at the apartment alone that night managing the Mission Posse’s cocaine operation. The Narcotics team surprised him when they showed up at the red door. He was trapped inside. Braxton panicked, grabbed the gun, and fired through the door, then he fled down a back staircase, dropping the gun as he ran.
ADA Boyle: And how certain are you of this opinion?
Det. Gittens: Very, very certain.
Transcript of Hearing on Defendant’s Motion for Court Order Requiring Prosecution to Disclose the Identity of the Confidential Informant ‘Raul.’
Sussex Superior Court, March 7, 1988.
Cross-Examination of Det. Julio Vega by Attorney Maxwell Beck.
Mr Beck: Detective, can you describe ‘Raul’ for us? What does he look like?
Det. Vega: Medium-build Hispanic male, medium complexion, brown hair, brown eyes.
Mr Beck: Oh, come on, you can do better than that. You’ve met with him many times, right? Can’t you tell us anything particular about him? Does he have a scar? A tattoo, a lisp, a wooden leg?
ADA Boyle: Objection.
Judge: Sustained.
Mr Beck: Do you even know ‘Raul’s’ name?
Det. Vega: His street name is ‘OG,’ for ‘Old Gangster.’
Mr Beck: But what’s his real name?
Det. Vega: I don’t have that information.
Mr Beck: You’ve known him for years and you don’t even know his name?
Det. Vega: On the street, that’s not unusual.
Mr Beck: Detective Vega, do you know what a buy log is?
Det. Vega: It’s a log at the Narcotics unit where we keep a record of any drug buys we do. Mr Beck: So every controlled buy is recorded in the log, correct? Det. Vega: Every drug buy, yeah. It doesn’t matter if it’s a controlled buy or an undercover buy.
Mr Beck: And what’s the difference?
Det. Vega: Well, an undercover buy is just a drug purchase made by an undercover police officer. But we can’t do all our own buys, because the dealers get to know our faces. So we do controlled buys, which is where you get somebody to make the buy for you.
Mr Beck: I see. So if you ever did an undercover buy yourself, you would have recorded it in the buy log, correct?
Det. Vega: Correct.
Mr Beck: And when you applied for the search warrant in this case, you stated that you made a buy at the red-door apartment that very afternoon, did you not?
Det. Vega: I did.
Mr Beck: And was that statement true?
Det. Vega: Yes, it was.
Mr Beck: But you did not record that buy in the log, did you?
Det. Vega: I don’t recall.
Mr Beck: Would you like to look at the buy log for August 17, 1987?
Det. Vega: Yes.
[Mr Beck shows the witness a log book marked Exhibit 14.]
Det. Vega: I guess I did not put it in.
Mr Beck: But you’re sure you made the buy? Det. Vega: I’m sure. Mr Beck: Well, if you made the buy, then you must have come away with some drugs, right?
Det. Vega: Of course.
Mr Beck: And this was . . . ?
Det. Vega: Crack cocaine. We bought one bottle.
Mr Beck: By a ‘bottle’ you mean a little plastic vial?
Det. Vega: Yes.
Mr Beck: And by department regulation, evidence like that has to be turned over to the evidence officer and logged in as well, right?
Det. Vega:
[No response.]
Mr Beck: But you did not log this vial of cocaine into the evidence room, did you? Would you like to see the evidence log?
Det. Vega: Sometimes—
Mr Beck: Detective Vega, if you really made a buy from the red door that afternoon, why wasn’t the evidence recorded in the evidence log?
Det. Vega:
[No response.]
Mr Beck: Detective?
Det. Vega: Sometimes when we seize drugs we just throw it out so no one can use it. We didn’t have a defendant at that point. We needed the search to have a case. There was no case yet, so the drugs weren’t evidence against anyone. So I must have just tossed them.
Mr Beck: You just tossed them. How often do you just toss evidence?
Det. Vega: All the time. I mean, not evidence. We seize stuff – if there’s no case to tie it to, what else should we do with it? Leave it sitting there for some kid to find?
Mr Beck: Detective Vega, let me pose a hypothetical to you. Let’s assume, just out of curiosity, just for fun, let’s assume there really is no ‘Raul.’ ‘Raul’ doesn’t exist.
ADA Boyle: Objection.
Judge: Overruled. Mr Beck, you’re on very thin ice.
Mr Beck: I understand, Your Honor. Detective Vega, let’s assume there is no ‘Raul,’ just hypothetically. A couple of young Narcotics detectives hear a rumor on the street that somebody is selling crack from a certain apartment. It’s just a rumor, though. Maybe it comes from a junkie. Do you understand that premise?
Det. Vega: Yes.
Mr Beck: And does that sort of thing happen? You hear a rumor about drug dealing here or there?
Det. Vega: Every day.
Mr Beck: Every day, excellent. Now, these two young detectives know the information is true, the tip is correct. But the source is shaky. They know a judge won’t issue a warrant based on a tip from a junkie. But these two young detectives want to raid this place and shut it down, they want to get that warrant and get into that apartment, they want it so bad—
Det. Vega: That’s not what happened.
Mr Beck: I understand. It’s a hypothetical.
Det. Vega: That’s not what happened.
Mr Beck: Yes, I understand. We’re just assuming for a moment. These two young cops with the shaky tip, they need to dress it up a little in order to convince a judge to give them the warrant, right? So instead of saying, ‘This tip came from a junkie,’ they say, ‘This tip came from a guy named Raul, who is one hundred percent reliable.’ Maybe they even go the extra mile and they invent an undercover buy, just to be sure they get the warrant. Who’ll question it, right? It’s just another drug raid. How many drug raids do you make in a year, Detective?
Det. Vega: Dozens, hundreds maybe.
Mr Beck: So these officers, they lie to get the warrant. Not a big lie. After all, their hearts are in the right place. They know there really is a drug dealer behind that red door, right? It’s just a white lie. Do you know what a white lie is, Detective?
Det. Vega:
[No response.]
Mr Beck: Detective, do you know what a white lie is?
Det. Vega: It’s when you tell a lie for the right reasons.
Mr Beck: Precisely. It’s a lie you tell for the right reasons. But then it all blows up. One of the cops gets murdered and suddenly everybody wants to know, Who is Raul? And where is the evidence from that undercover buy?
ADA Boyle: Objection. If there is a question here, I wish Mr Beck would ask it.
Judge: Sustained. Pose a question, Mr. Beck.
Mr Beck: Detective Vega, my question is this: Wouldn’t that scenario account for all the irregularities in this case?
ADA Boyle: Objection!
Mr Beck: Detective, wouldn’t that explain why no one can find ‘Raul’ and no one can even tell us what he looks like?
ADA Boyle: Objection!
Mr Beck: Detective, wouldn’t that explain why the controlled buy never got logged in?
ADA Boyle: Objection!
Judge: Sustained! Mr Beck—
Mr Beck: Detective, there is no ‘Raul,’ is there?
Judge: The objection is sustained, Mr. Beck!
Mr Beck: Detective, if there really is a ‘Raul,’ why won’t you produce him? Where is he? Judge: Mr Beck, I said that’s enough!
Court Order Dated April 4, 1988.
. . . It is hereby
ORDERED
that the prosecution locate and produce the witness referred to in court papers as ‘Raul’ within seven (7) business days. The prosecution will satisfy this order by the production of ‘Raul’s’ full name, date of birth, current address, Social Security number . . .
Police Report Dated April 5, 1988.
Reporting Officer: Det. J. Vega (badge 78760) Spent double shift (1600-2400, 2400-0800) searching for CRI ‘Raul’ but have been unable to locate him. Have informed ADA Boyle of this fact. It is my belief that ‘Raul’ has purposely removed himself from the area out of reluctance to become involved in the prosecution of Harold Braxton for the murder of my partner, Det. Arthur Trudell. This officer will continue the search.
Court’s Memorandum and Decision Dated June 1, 1988.
. . . Whether ‘Raul’ actually exists or, as now seems likely, he does not, the Commonwealth has committed deliberate and egregious misconduct depriving the defense of an essential witness and resulting in irreparable harm to the defense . . .
It is therefore with a heavy heart that the Court reaches its decision.
The indictment alleging that the defendant Harold Braxton did commit murder in the first degree against Arthur M. Trudell is hereby
DISMISSED.
News clipping: ‘Officer in Murder Controversy Retires,’
The Boston Globe,
January 17, 1992, page B7.
Detective Julio Vega, the partner of slain Narcotics detective Arthur Trudell and a central figure in the controversial trial of a Boston gang leader for that crime, has quietly retired from the Boston Police Department. Vega was removed from active field duty following the dismissal of the Trudell case in 1988.
According to a police spokesperson, Vega retired one day after reaching his fifteenth year on the force, a critical date for purposes of his retirement pension.
The department provided no information as to Vega’s future plans or whereabouts.
Vega, 41, could not be reached for comment.
18
A key scraping in the lock startled me, breaking the spell. A glance at the clock: nearly seven at night. Was that possible? Had I been sitting there for five hours? Lately I had begun to wear reading glasses, little wire-rimmed jobs with round lenses, and I twisted them off to rub-rub-rub my eyes like a kid. My muscles and spine and eyes all ached, but there was more than just exhaustion. Something in the Trudell file had spooked me. Something I could not quite name.
More clumsy scratching at the front door lock. Then it was quiet again. Background noises sounded clearly – the buzz of fluorescent lights, the clicks and creaks of the building, a car horn.
At the reception area, I coughed to test my vocal chords, then announced, ‘Who is it?’
‘Who is it? Who the fuck ah you?’
‘Ben Truman.’
‘Ben Truman? Who?’
‘Franny, is that you?’
‘Yeah. Open the daw, would’ja?’
I opened the door and there was Franny Boyle, the SIU prosecutor, a foggy-drunk look on his face. He clutched his keys in his left hand. His right hand shook visibly. Franny’s tie was stuffed in his coat pocket, and his shirt was open, revealing a frayed T-shirt collar. ‘You scared the piss outa me, pal,’ he grumbled. Booze had thickened his Boston accent, which I would not have thought possible. ‘Just gonna grab a little snooze here, a’right? I’m not payin’ for a cab and I can’t deal with the fuckin’ T.’ He brushed past me.