Looking Down the Barrel of a Brand New Day - COMPLETED

Eight

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Jack

Saturday...at work...wishing I was anywhere else...

I'm behind on keeping you up to date on the buried bodies. 

Here's my report:

(Tell me if it sucks. I can handle your criticism because no matter what you say, I whisper to myself, in a confident tone, "She digs me.")

Two days ago, Joe and I met with D.A. Kelly Thatcher and two senior investigators. Detective Balsam was a lead investigator in the Columbine High School Massacre.  His hair is perfect as if sculpted in rich chocolate by the royal pastry chef. Detective James Jefferson looks like a well-nourished Willy Nelson who's entirely comfortable taking a backseat, but if provoked, could beat the shit out of you and all your best friends. Both are seasoned, sharp, and wary.

The session started in the standard small, gray, interview room. One table. Four chairs. Two-way mirror. Video-camera. But it was all immediately derailed by a blow-up between DA Thatcher and me over the rules of the game. She handed us a waiver of all Joe's rights for Joe to sign. I object, saying the whole thing should fall under the law of privileged communications, and then spout off about it being bullshit to have Joe give key information as a witness in a double homicide with no protection against a motorcycle gang that had probably killed the girls to eliminate witnesses. Thatcher folds her arms and clenches her jaw. I do the same. Mutual glaring. Hostile silence.

Detective Balsam, like a kid trying to make peace between parents, intervenes and calms things. Then, I ask them to leave the room so I can talk to Joe alone. Joe appreciates the legal posturing and fireworks, but tells me he trusts the cops and just wants to get the story off his chest and the girls found.

I agree to back down. Call everyone back in. We sign the waiver. Thatcher leaves the room. Two tape recorders are turned on. We start the interview.

Both Balsam and Jefferson tag-team questions. The tone is respectful.

Joe tells the story: He was divorced in 1997. He bought a large home in a mountain town West of Denver. Later, his mother moved in. He was employed as management for Casey construction. They build electrical transmission towers. In 2007, a co-worker and friend named Greg Johannsson moves into Joe's home. Greg works. No problems.

In 2010, Joe's mom dies. That same year Greg's brother, Darren Johannsson moves in. Darren is unemployed and fresh out of prison. Darren brings problems, including drugs, theft, prostitutes, and bikers. The Blue Steel Kings.

Darren, age 45, also begins a secret relationship with Joe's daughter, Mary, age 25. Joe doesn't see the romance, but he does notice the prostitutes and various druggy couch surfers crashing at his house.

The set-up is that each new vagrant is introduced to Joe as "working" and "will pay rent". Few, if any, do. Joe also sees evidence that there are others secretly living in his house. He finds makeshift beds hidden in closets and storage spaces. He finds food squirreled away around his house. He suspects people are slipping in to crash and/or have sex while he's at work.

Joe works all the time, long hours. Initially, he is accommodating but grows to understand that they are taking advantage of him. Some of the prostitutes appear to be sympathetic to Joe, and they "date" Joe for free. In particular, Carmen and "Red" (he has now sobered to understand that the free sex was just to soften his resistance to the takeover).

Greg and Darren Johannsson were directly involved with the drugs and prostitution. The Blue Steel Kings were in as overseers, upper management. Occasionally, they would drop by for sex with the girls. Joe finds more evidence of drugs and prostitution (syringes, paraphernalia, condoms). In 2013, there is a Blue Steel Kings party at his house. BSKs with their girls, drugs, and prostitutes everywhere. About this time, Joe can tell that Whitewolf, a 6'4" 300 pound member of the Kings, is the top prostitute supervisor. Whitewolf is a senior gang member who Joe says lives less than a mile away from him. Darren and Greg Johannsson will do anything they can for the BSKs and treat their association with the gang as "a badge of honor".