“Maybe not always,” Jessie said, though she wasn’t ruling it out. “Have you been paying attention to the news today?”
He shook his head, looking genuinely befuddled.
“I’ve been in surgery nearly non-stop since around seven this morning,” he said. “And when I take breaks, I prefer to listen to music to recalibrate. Why?”
Jessie saw no reason not to be forthright about information that was everywhere already. “Two other women, both green card holders who’d married Americans in the last few years, were found stabbed to death in their homes.”
Williamson’s red eyes went wide as he processed what she’d said. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.
“You think this is connected?” he asked.
“Very possibly,” Jessie said. “That’s why we have other questions. We know it might be hard to stay clear-headed in a moment like this, but the more forthright you can be right now, the better.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” Sam said. “Firstly, do you have security cameras?”
“Yes,” Williamson said. “I mean we have one. It’s a Ring camera for the front door. But the battery was low so I removed it this morning to charge it up. I was going to replace it when I got home.”
Jessie watched Sam try to hide his frustration and decided to take over so she could direct Williamson’s attention to her. If he was innocent, he didn’t need to see a cop looking at him like it was his fault they couldn’t ID his wife’s killer.
“This question might seem random,” she said, “but do you recall the name of the immigration lawyer you used to help Ana get her residency?”
“Sure,” Williamson said. “We used Maribelle Sanchez. She was recommended to us by my personal attorney, who did research on immigration lawyers.”
“Have you ever heard of a lawyer named Richard Paulson?” she asked.
He shook his head. “The name doesn’t sound familiar. Why?”
“No reason,” she said before turning to Sam. “We should have Jamil or Beth check in with our stakeout unit to see what’s what.”
She didn’t specifically mention Paulson but he clearly knew who she was referring to and nodded, pulling out his phone to send a text. She returned her attention to Williamson.
“Were you happy with Ms. Sanchez’s work?”
The doctor shrugged. “She got the job done. To be honest, I never really thought about it too much. Everything seemed pretty straightforward.”
Jessie didn’t comment on the fact that securing residency wasn’t as straightforward for many other folks. Tonight wasn’t about shaming a new widower.
“I requested an update,” Sam said, looking up after sending the text. “Dr. Williamson, did you or Ana have any memorable disputes with anyone recently?”
“What do you mean?”
“For example,” he clarified, “did anyone give either of you a hard time, maybe because of Ana’s immigration status, getting the green card, marrying an American—stuff like that?”
Williamson managed a weak smile.
“I understand the question and we did occasionally get teased, but not because of that,” he said. “First of all, any ribbing was always good-natured and mostly from my friends or colleagues. And it wasn’t because Ana was an immigrant. It was because she was a gorgeous, Amazonian model married to a wrinkled, graying guy fifteen years her senior. People would joke about whether I could keep up. It was never mean-spirited, but once we told our story, the teasing usually stopped.”
“What story is that?” Jessie asked.
He smiled again, this time more warmly.
“Ana came to L.A. because her childhood friend, Gala, had a heart abnormality that couldn’t be treated back in Ukraine. She was doing very well as a model and paid for Gala to fly here to get the procedure she needed done. She paid for their lodging and all of Gala’s care out of her pocket. She did some research and chose me to do the procedure.”
“That’s how you met?” Jessie asked.
"Yes, she did a lot of online research and interviews with people and I guess my name kept coming up, so she booked an appointment. After I agreed to take Gala on as a patient, Ana was there every step of the way in the lead-up to the procedure, during the 7-hour surgery, and throughout Gala's recovery process."
