“And you, Mr. Green,” Burnside said, and slapped her palm on the table, startling Green. “But that part didn’t work out so well, did it? Grayson Mumford is going to walk while you do twenty-five years to life in prison.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Green said.
“Be quiet, Michael,” Himmel said. “I’ll do the talking.”
But Burnside ignored Himmel and directly addressed Green.
“You’re the ringleader. You brought them into Vista Grande, aiding and abetting in the crime . . . which led directly to their violent deaths. That’s accomplice to armed robbery and felony murder. We have all the evidence we need against you but nothing on Grayson Mumford.”
Green snickered at that. “You’re the fucking clowns who gave him the Medal of Valor.”
“Yes, we are,” Burnside said. “But you’re the fucking clown who can either do the full ride in prison, while Mumford remains free and pursues a career in law enforcement, or you can reduce your sentence by helping us.”
That got Himmel’s full attention. “What would helping you entail?”
Now Burnside addressed him. “Mr. Green gives us a full and detailed confession now, including the names of anyone involved in committing the robberies or selling the goods, and then he arranges a meeting with Mumford, which we’ll record.”
“You want him to wear a wire and get Mumford to incriminate himself.”
“That’s right.”
Green had no choice and, from the look Eve saw on his face, he knew it. So did his lawyer.
Himmel pretended to consider the offer for a moment. “If you drop the murder charges against my client, and agree to recommend that the court impose the most lenient sentence possible on the armed robbery charges, he will consider your offer.”
“It’s a deal but it expires in ten minutes,” Burnside said. “We can’t risk Mumford learning that Green has been arrested, so we have to act fast.”
“Deal,” Green said.
Himmel’s head whipped around to Green. “We need to talk—”
“About what?” Green interrupted. “Mumford is the only leverage we have.” He glanced at Eve. “Does he really want to become a cop now?”
“So I’m told.”
Green shook his head. “If only his brain was as big as his balls.”
Burnside left to get the warrant for the wire and Eve got Green to give her the details on his home invasion racket.
Green confirmed that the robbers came in as part of the landscaping crew and left in the Amazon van, or vice versa, depending on the situation. He wasn’t worried about any of his landscapers causing any trouble or going to the police. They were all Hispanic day workers, mostly illegal immigrants, that he picked up on street corners or in Home Depot parking lots throughout the valley. Most of them didn’t speak English and didn’t want anything to do with the police out of fear of being deported.
The idea of doing home invasions was born from desperation, resentment, and chance. Green’s landscaping business was being crushed by “mow-and-blow illegals,” as he called them, who radically undercut him on price.
“The stinking rich are fucking cheap,” Green said. “Which is how they stay rich and why they stink.”
His problem was that he operated a legitimate business that paid taxes, was licensed and bonded, and carried insurance, all costs his “mow-and-blow” competitors didn’t have. That meant he was already priced out of the market before he could even make a bid for a job.
“I had to let office staff go,” Green said. “I was behind on all my bills and facing bankruptcy.”
That was about four months ago. It was also when he saw Grayson Mumford working the gate at Mountain Oaks. They had a few beers that night and discovered they were both at dead ends in their lives and that they shared deep bitterness toward the wealthy people they were working for. Over a few more nights, and a few more beers, they hatched their home invasion scheme. The only issue was finding a crew that would blend into the neighborhood.
“White people,” Eve said.
“That’s right,” Green said. “Nobody notices some white guys in the neighborhood who don’t belong because all whites belong.”
“How did you find Dalander, Colter, and Nagy?”
“Mumford stayed in touch with them from the soccer team days, mostly because their lives had gone nowhere, just like his. Dalander was still working at Burger King, Colter was still living with his parents, and Nagy was a no-talent writer barely getting by as a reader, gleefully preventing other writers from getting the work he wanted, not that it got him anywhere. The three of them were broke, bored, and eager to come on board, as much for the excitement as the money. They walked out of the houses they robbed with hard-ons, not that anybody but Dalander had a woman who might appreciate it.”