As the Wicked Watch(115)
News anchor Iris Smith: We begin with breaking news, as the Chicago police launch a massive manhunt for the man suspected of killing fifteen-year-old honor student Masey James and attacking Channel 8 reporter Jordan Manning and another man. Our Simone Michele has the story.
Simone Michele: Iris, police say they have evidence connecting a Chicago man, Brent Carter, also known as Alexander or Alec, to homicide victim Masey James. He is also a suspect in the murder of Tania Mosley, nineteen, of Chatham. Both victims were sexually assaulted, suffered similar types of wounds, and were killed at different locations and their bodies discovered elsewhere. Carter, twenty-two, is also wanted for the assault on News Channel 8 investigative journalist Jordan Manning and Harold Brantley, a security guard, who remains hospitalized. Police warn residents that Brent Carter is extremely dangerous. Now the damning evidence against Carter has also deepened the case against his close friend and business associate, Terrence Bankhead. A judge revoked his bond late yesterday.
One more day before I was back on the air, but I was already working on my Day One story, reunited with my other partner in crime, Scott Newell, and hunkered down with Joey and other members of the team tracking Brent Carter and capturing footage of their operations.
I’d convinced Bartlett and Fawcett that after the department’s mishandling of this case, transparency was their only hope of repairing the CPD’s maligned reputation, for which they had no one but themselves to blame. Fawcett didn’t like it, but he was in no position to object.
A manhunt of this scale for a serial killer was unprecedented in the black community. Brent Carter and Terrence Bankhead were this community’s Hillside Stranglers, and another bombshell was about to drop—the culpability of their fearless leader Louise Robinson. The wiretapped conversations between Brent and Louise were just as damning to her, but they weren’t moving police any closer to finding him.
“Jordan, look, you can’t stay up all night,” Joey said. “If something happens, I’ll let you know. Go home.”
I could use a break from sitting around a stuffy conference room with eight police officers, some of whom hadn’t bathed in twenty-four hours. But I wasn’t exactly comfortable going home, either, with the man who had attacked me on the loose.
“Are you up for an all-nighter?” I asked Scott.
“Is there food involved?” he asked.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
We pulled up stakes around 2:30 a.m., and drove over to the White Palace Grill, a throwback to a 1950s diner, open twenty-four hours a day. We parked ourselves in a booth beneath a painting of iconic Chicagoans like Mayor Richard M. Daley, Harry Caray, and Michael Jordan playing cards.
“Do you think this guy is dumb enough to show up at Louise’s house?” Scott asked before shoving a forkful of waffles and pork sausage into his mouth.
“I don’t know, maybe,” I said. “He’s starting to mentally break down. There’s no telling what he might do. I’m worried that, backed into a corner, he might kill again.”
If Brent had figured out that police had made the connection between him and Louise, then he probably wouldn’t be calling her. Then again, he was desperate.
“Mama Lou, I fucked up! I fucked up!” he said during the last wiretap call capture. You could hear him pacing back and forth on what sounded like a wood floor.
“This ain’t your fault, baby,” Louise said. “Terry took advantage of you.”
Ain’t his fault? Lady, are you crazy?
Louise was Brent’s devoted ally and protector. If he couldn’t go to her, where else could he go? Surely not back to the Uptown office and studio where his partner was caught. Was there a woman? Nobody seemed to know much about his private life. I checked in with Manny and Yvonne to see what they might know.
“I never saw that dude with a woman,” Manny said. “I never saw him around anybody, really, except for Terrence and Monique.”
Just before first light, after driving around for what felt like an hour or more to kill time, Scott and I were headed back to police headquarters when a text came in from Joey. HE’S MAKING HIS MOVE. WE’RE GOING IN.
GOING IN WHERE? I texted back but he didn’t respond.
“Scott, I think police are headed to Louise’s. Let’s go!”
By the time we pulled up, police had the alleys on both sides blocked off with squad cars, unmarked vehicles, and barricades. Scott and I abandoned the van and walked just across the street from Louise’s house as they were bringing her out in handcuffs swearing and vowing revenge. But as soon as she saw Scott and me standing there with the camera aimed right at her, she cut her words off like a spigot, glowering at me with hatred and disgust in her eyes.
I didn’t turn away from her glare. Once she was placed in the back of the squad car, I lifted the mic and turned to the camera to record what I hoped would be the first take in this growing saga.
“Police have taken community and political activist Louise Robinson into custody in connection with the manhunt for murder suspect Alexander Brent Carter. Robinson, it’s been learned, was Carter’s foster mother through most of his youth, and has been in contact with him since a warrant was issued for his arrest.”
The squad car took Louise away. I looked to my left and there was Fawcett, walking in my direction, not trying to avoid me as usual.