“They had the same lawyer,” he said.
“Who did?” Sam asked.
“According to my data, Maria Cain and Yuki Tanaka had the same immigration attorney,” Jamil said. “His name is Richard Paulson.”
“That’s promising,” Sam said. “Maybe he’s aware of threats that the couples might have received but not passed on to the authorities.”
“Why wouldn’t they pass any threats on?” Beth asked.
“Based on the kind of vitriol we’re seeing from groups like Traditional Citizenry,” Sam said, “they might have wanted to handle things more quietly than by pursuing charges against such volatile people.”
Jessie wasn’t sure that she agreed with Sam’s analysis. She was skeptical that the couples would refer threats to their immigration attorney rather than the cops. That felt like an extremely passive reaction, especially from wealthy, ambitious men who were proactive in other parts of their lives. But she still thought it was worth talking to Paulson.
“Even if that theory doesn’t pan out,” she added diplomatically, “he might be aware of folks within the system with grudges. What if there was an immigration official who seemed to have it in for them? What if some technocrat at a particular agency was making it hard for them to get applications approved? It might open up whole new avenues of investigation.”
“Wouldn’t an applicant have already filed a complaint about someone like that?” Beth pressed.
“Maybe they did,” Jessie told her, “but we just haven’t had any reason to look at that kind of data until now. In fact, up until this point, we’ve assumed the killer is some kind of extremist outside the system. What if they’re an extremist inside the system? They’d have all kinds of intimate details about these couples, and especially the women pursuing residency. They’dknow home addresses. Hell, maybe they even went to these houses to conduct interviews.”
Jessie’s and Sam’s phones pinged simultaneously.
“That was me sending you the address for Paulson’s home,” Jamil said. “Apparently he runs his law practice from there.”
“Great,” Jessie replied, standing up. “While we talk to him, please stay on the Traditional Citizenry beat. Let us know if any other members pop with criminal records or lack of an alibi for the night of the protest.”
“Will do,” Jamil said.
Jessie turned to Sam.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m excited to talk to a lawyer. We should move quick, before any other shoes drop.”
Sam smiled as he stood up.
“The way I plan to drive, that won’t be a problem.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Beachwood Canyon farmers market was crowded, which made it hard to keep an eye on the woman.
As the redeemer—a self-coined but never spoken title—followed her, they made sure to keep a safe distance. If the woman turned around, she would almost certainly recognize the redeemer. That would complicate matters when the time for retribution came. So the redeemer stayed about a hundred feet back and always kept other people between them.
There was something powerful about having chosen to self-identify by the term “redeemer,” even if it was only in their head. It reminded them of their larger mission, even amid each individual act of righteousness.
They weren’t just redeeming these women by freeing them from their earthly bodies, they were also redeeming legitimate, honest immigrants from the taint of these women. The redeemer didn’t hate all immigrants, or even most. Only a particular subset fueled their rage.
As the redeemer passed a stand filled with citrus fruits, they silently re-affirmed their mission: to punish those who were using the system as a way to destroy families and accumulate wealth.
Just like the woman the redeemer was following now, they were all guilty. This one might seem innocuous enough as she browsed a flower stall, but she wasn’t. Each of these women had committed the same crime. They were seducing and manipulating well-meaning American men, using these green card marriages as a transaction; as a means of exploiting the men for money and citizenship. But that wasn’t the most insidious part.
They were also planning their betrayals. At some point, each of these women would do what happened to the redeemer’s father: murder him, claim self-defense, then take all his wealth, leaving the unsuspecting child without a father or a birthright.
It was true that neither Yuki Tanaka nor Maria Cain had children with their husbands yet, but that wasn’t the point. They would have eventually. And then those children would be abandoned by women interested only in wealth and the benefits their new home provided. They would be rich widows, spending the money of men they’d both killed and ruined the good names of. That’s what happened to the redeemer’s father. His reputation was destroyed by the abuse allegations of the “victim.” It was her word against his and he wasn’t around anymore to speak on his own behalf.
In a strange way, the redeemer was actually helping immigrants, though it likely didn’t look like that to anyone on the outside, including those investigating the killings. By eliminating the worst offenders, those who selfishly ruined the process for others, the path was cleared for the good ones, the honest ones, the hard-working people who only wanted to make a living and raise a family.
By doing this hard, admittedly ugly work, the redeemer was protecting families from these black widows—predators disguised as loving wives. It might take a long time, but eventually, society would see the truth: the redeemer was pruning the bush of immigration so that it could survive.
The next pruning would be tonight.
