Hunter sipped his coffee. ‘So here’s our problem – how did this killer gain knowledge, not only of the fact that Joe Wilford had experienced severe physical violence at the hands of his father years ago and while living in Phoenix, Arizona…’ He lifted a finger for emphasis. ‘But also of theexacttype of injuries inflicted onto him? Those injuries didn’t happen all at once, Carlos – the broken arms, the cigarette burns, the burning eye-drops, and whatever else – each of those injuries happened at different times, spread over several years. According to Joe, he never went to the hospital for his injuries, so there should be no official record. If Joe really never wrote any of it down, then how the hell did this killer get such detailed information?’
Garcia had a healthy sip of his coffee. ‘Maybe his mother kept a diary.’
Hunter shook his head. ‘And what? Somehow, ten years later, that diary ends up in the hands of a murderer here in LA, which so happens to be the exact same city that Terry Wilford moved to after he left Arizona? I don’t think so.’
Garcia didn’t argue. ‘But someone has to have passed on that information.’
‘True,’ Hunter agreed. ‘And by elimination, we’re left with just one option. There’s only one person left in the equation who knew about all the violence… all the injuries.’
‘Terry Wilford himself,’ Garcia said, indicating a profile photo on the board.
‘Yep.’ Hunter finished his coffee and sat back on his chair.
‘But wouldn’t that make even less sense?’ Garcia countered. ‘He was the violent one. He was the one who lashed out againsthis wife and kid. Why would he tell anyone about his violent personality? It’s not exactly a quality people would want exposed, Robert.’
‘It might make a lot more sense than you think, Carlos.’
‘Really? How?’
‘Simple,’ Hunter replied. ‘Guilt. It takes a real special kind of psychopath tonotknow that what he was doing was wrong – the violence, the beatings… all of it – especially when that violence was perpetrated against his own wife and kid. That knowledge almost always manifests itself as guilt, shame, or a combination of both. And that internal guilt would be the main player on the type of mood swings that Joe told us his father used to have.’ Hunter tapped his notepad with the tip of his index finger. ‘Going from being violent to being remorseful in no time. That guilt and shame, combined with violent mood swings that can’t be controlled, can very easily push a person toseek help.’
Garcia paused for a beat. ‘Are you talking about therapy?’
‘Why not?’ Hunter questioned back. ‘When we’re ill and we know we’re ill, we seek help, don’t we? We go to the doctor – it’s normal behavior. I’m sure that Terry Wilford knew that his mood swings weren’t right, and most of the battle against controlling anger is won by understanding where that anger is coming from. A therapist, or even an anger-management specialist, can help you do that.’
Garcia thought about it for a moment. ‘But wouldn’t it make more sense for him to seek help back in Arizona? While the violent mood swings were taking place?’
‘And he might have,’ Hunter replied. ‘We don’t know, but if he did and it helped – and therapy usually does help – he might’ve wanted to carry on with the sessions once he relocated. Maybe he feared that, without therapy, his violent behavior had a bigger chance of coming back. Maybe he started seeing signs of it again.’
Before Garcia could say anything back, the phone on Hunter’s desk rang.
Hunter leaned forward and reached for it. It was Shannon Hatcher, the head of the Research team.
‘Shannon,’ Hunter said, as he switched the call to speakerphone. ‘Please tell me you’ve managed to find something.’
There clearly was a smile hanging on the corners of her words.
‘You can thank me later, Robert.’
Thirty-Six
The new information that Shannon Hatcher had obtained on Shaun Daniels wasn’t what she would call ‘case breaking’, but it did give Hunter and Garcia a brand-new lead.
They’d been right – Shaun Daniels hadn’t always been a loner. Records indicated that nine years ago, and for a period of two years, Shaun had shared the same address with a Mexican American woman named Mariela Duron Esqueda. The information wasn’t exactly cast-iron because there was a discrepancy with the records. It had been that discrepancy that had thrown Research off the right trail when they had gathered Shaun Daniels’s basic information the first time around.
During the years of 2015 and 2016, the name Mariela Duron Esqueda appeared together with Shaun Daniels on a utility bill for a small property in Boyle Heights – a mainly Latinx neighborhood in Central LA, located just east of the Los Angeles River. What was interesting about that was that Mariela’s name did not appear on any other official bill, including the city, local and district taxes.
That was a risky but fairly common tactic used by many Angelinos to obtain a 25 percent reduction on their local tax, due to single occupancy. The reason why that trick tended to work was because private utility providers and local government didn’t exactly share information, but what really made Shannon believethat she was on the right track was the fact that Mariela had a son – Emiliano Esqueda – who in 2015 was thirteen years old.
Armed with that new information, Shannon was able to locate the school that Emiliano had attended during the years of 2015 and 2016 for his seventh and eighth grades – Hollenbeck Middle School on East 6th Street. After checking their records, she found out that Mariela Duron Esqueda wasn’t the only name listed as a point of contact, should the school have ever needed to get in touch with Emiliano’s parents. Mariela’s partner’s name was also listed as a guardian. That name was Shaun Daniels.
Bingo.
After 2016, it looked like Mariela and Shaun had parted ways. In 2021, Mariela relocated to San Jose, north California, but her son, Emiliano, who had just turned nineteen that year, had stayed in Los Angeles. And here came the biggest surprise of them all – in 2021, Emiliano Esqueda had joined the LAPD. He was still a first-grade police officer, assigned to the LAPD Southeast Community Police Station in Vermont Vista.
One final phone call and Shannon found out that that afternoon, Officer Emiliano Esqueda was policing the streets in Watts, South LA.
‘What are the odds?’ Garcia said, as he veered right to join South Alameda Street.
