CHAPTER 69
HOMICIDE DETECTIVES DON’T typically conduct surveillances of suspected drug dealers. Following those suspects is work more often done by the narcotics squad. I did a couple of surveillances when I was on a robbery unit years ago. We developed a suspect for a series of robberies, then tried to follow him. I wouldn’t say it was a waste of time, but it did not resolve the case. Only once did we actually observe a suspect as he attempted to commit a robbery. And even in that case, we were working on a tip from an informant.
One time I did follow a homicide suspect all the way from Manhattan to Buffalo. Most of it was on the highway, and it was pretty easy for two cars to keep up with the suspect. The New York State Police helped quite a bit. An inspector with the State Police named Bud Wilson arranged for us to be relieved at night and get a few hours’ sleep.
The next day, we followed the suspect all the way back to Manhattan. We never saw him meet with anyone or do anything suspicious. He stayed at a cheap hotel. We couldn’t tell if any of the people who came and went were there to visit him. The craziest part was that as soon as he got out of his car back in Manhattan, his estranged wife walked out of the building and shot him in the head.
At least we made one arrest for homicide. Turns out he had been visiting a girlfriend in Buffalo at the low-rent hotel, but no one had noticed the woman going to his room. I hoped today’s surveillance would go better.
It was a nice change of pace. The skies were clear and there were no visibility issues. It got me out of the office and made me think, at least for a while, that I was in control of the investigation. But surveillance still isn’t my thing. Hernandez sat at one end of Antonio Deason’s block in her SUV. Trilling and I were in my Impala at the opposite end of the block.
We caught a break a few minutes after we’d set up our surveillance of Antonio’s apartment in SoHo. The electric Porsche that I’d heard so much about came down the street and stopped directly in front of his building. I expected Deason to hop out of the car so was surprised when instead a dark-haired woman in her thirties stepped out. Deason came from the building immediately, spoke to the woman, then got into the Porsche by himself and pulled away from the curb.
It was at that moment I realized we should’ve had more officers working this surveillance. If we’d had more people, someone could’ve stayed to see where the woman who got out of the Porsche Taycan went. Was she his assistant? His girlfriend? Did she work at a mechanic’s shop and was returning the vehicle? All questions I knew would have to be answered as we watched Antonio Deason drive away.
Terri Hernandez fell in behind us. If we didn’t switch up leads, anyone we were surveilling might notice the same car tailing them after a while. Cops have been doing it the same way for decades.
Not long into our following Antonio Deason, less than five minutes, a blue Chevy Tahoe came off a side street as we were pulling up to a stoplight and stopped between us and the Porsche. When the light turned green, the Tahoe didn’t move.
I honked, but in Manhattan that’s about as effective as blaming other people for your problems. I stuck my head out of the Impala’s driver-side window hoping to spot which direction Deason had taken. All I saw was his left hand extended out of the window, shooting us the bird.
The Tahoe finally started to move slowly through the intersection, but there was no way I could get around it. Hernandez had raced ahead on a parallel street. After a few minutes we realized we’d lost our target.
Trilling turned to me and said, “What do we do now?”
“That is a really good question.”