While at the crime scene, Ballard had seen a rusting old Cadillac parked in the lot. Its trunk was open and there was a beer keg sitting in a bed of ice inside it.
“Were you with anyone by the Caddy?” Ballard asked.
“My girlfriend,” Gabriel said.
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t want to get her in trouble or nothing.”
“She’s not in trouble. We’re just trying to figure out who was there tonight, that’s all.”
Ballard waited.
“Lara Rosas,” Gabriel finally said.
“Thank you, Gabriel,” Ballard said. “Do you know Lara from school or the neighborhood?”
“Uh, both.”
“And she went home?”
“Yeah, she left when we came here.”
“Did you see what happened to your father?”
“No, I just saw after. Him lying there.”
Gabriel was exhibiting no emotion and Ballard saw no tear lines on his face. She knew this meant nothing. People process and express shock and grief in different ways. Unusual behavior or a lack of obvious emotion should not be considered suspicious.
“Did you see anybody at the party that you thought was strange or didn’t belong?” Ballard asked.
“Not really,” Gabriel said. “There was a guy there at the keg who didn’t look like he belonged. But it was a street party. Who knows.”
“Was he asked to leave?”
“No, he was just there. He got his beer and then I guess he left. I didn’t see him no more.”
“Was he from the neighborhood?”
“I doubt it. I never saw him before.”
“What makes you say that he didn’t look like he belonged?”
“Well, he was a white guy, plus he seemed kind of dirty, you know. His clothes and stuff.”
“You think he was homeless?”
“I don’t know, maybe. That’s what I thought.”
“And this was before the shooting that you saw him?”
“Yeah, before. Definitely. It was before everyone started looking up.”
“You said his clothes were dirty. What was he wearing?”
“A gray hoodie and blue jeans. His pants were dirty.”
“Was it dirt or grease?”
“Like dirt, I think.”
“Was the hoodie up or down? Could you see his hair?”
“It was up. But it kind of looked like he had a shaved head.”
“Okay. What about his shoes, do you remember them?”
“Nah, I don’t know about his shoes.”
Ballard paused and tried to commit the details of the stranger to memory. She was not writing anything down. She thought it would be better to maintain eye contact with Gabriel and not possibly spook him by taking out a notebook and pen.
“Who else did you notice who wasn’t right?” she asked.
“Nobody else,” Gabriel said.
“And you’re not sure if the guy in the hoodie hung around after getting his beer?”
“I didn’t see him again.”
“So, when you last saw him, how long was that before midnight and all the shooting started?”
“I don’t know, a half hour.”
“Did you see anybody like your dad ask him what he was doing there or ask him to leave?”
“No, because it was like a block party. Everybody welcome.”
“Did you see any other white people at the party?”
“A few, yeah.”
“But they weren’t suspicious.”
“No.”
“But this other guy was.”
“Well, it was like a party and he was dirty. And he had the hoodie up, you know?”
“Your father had a work shirt on. Was that usual?”
“ ’Cause it had his name on it. He wanted all the neighbors to know who he was. He always did that.”
Ballard nodded. It was now time to ask more difficult questions and hold this kid to her side as long as she could.
“Did you fire any weapons tonight, Gabriel?” she asked.
“No, no way,” Gabriel said.
“Okay, good. Are you associated with Las Palmas Thirteen?”
“What are you asking me? I’m no gangster. My dad said no way.”
“Don’t get upset. I’m just trying to figure out what’s what.
You’re not associated, that’s good. But your father was, right?”
“He quit that shit a long time ago. He was totally legit.”
“Okay, that’s good to know. But I heard there were guys from Las Palmas in the shop yard for the party. Is that true?”