COLD CASE:

SPEED TRAP

When skeletal remains wash up along the shores of a local river the cold case unit is thrown into the secretive world of Philadelphia’s 1988 underground street racing scene.

PREVIOUSLY ON COLD CASE:

“It’s happened twice now; I don’t think we can ignore this anymore,” Scotty added. “We’ve both dated cops before; it doesn’t usually end well. Added to that is the fact that you’re technically still seeing someone. How is Ryan anyway?”

Lilly sighed. “I don’t know.”

“You mean he doesn’t know,” Scotty responded.

“No, I mean I don’t know, because I can’t get in touch with him. Every contact I have for him keeps sending me to voice mail,” Lilly explained.

“Well, when you do finally reach him, what are you going to say? Are you going to break up with him? Are you going to tell him about us?” Scotty asked.

Lilly began to sweat. “I don’t know!”

“Well, you need to figure out what you want, Lilly! You keep coming to my place! You’ve obviously thought about us before! I’m just curious as to why you’ve chosen to act on it now?” asked Scotty.

“You haven’t exactly turned me away! Have you thought about us before?” asked Lilly.

Stillman approached Scotty’s desk. “Scotty, can I see you in my office for two minutes?”

Scotty stood up slowly and followed John through the glass door of his office. “I’m supposed to meet Lilly in observation soon, boss. What’s going on?”

“Something has been eating at me lately, and I think you are the only one I can trust with it. You may have noticed that my punctuality has been somewhat suspect lately,” Stillman explained.

“It’s been discussed,” said Scotty timidly.

“Well, there is a reason for it. Do you remember Carla Guest?” asked Stillman.

“The sister from the Brandon Lake case,” Scotty added.

“We stayed in touch afterwards, and I found out that she was a widow. Long story short, she sold her house in Chicago and moved here. Among other things, I’ve been helping her move these past few weeks,” Stillman explained.

“That’s your big secret, you met someone?” asked Scotty.

“She’s not just some stranger, Scotty. Technically, she was a witness; she gave us evidence that lead to a conviction. It’s a bit of an ethical gray area; I’d hate for anything to get misconstrued,” Stillman responded.

“Maybe if it was still an open case, but the dust settled on that case months ago. I think you are worrying over nothing,” insisted Scotty.

“Be that as it may, I would appreciate it if you kept this between us for now,” Stillman suggested.

“Have it your way,” said Scotty as he turned to leave the office.

Stillman called him back. “I just shared a secret with you, Scotty. Feel free to do the same with me any time.”

“If I have any worth sharing, you’ll be the first to know,” said Scotty as he left.

1

The following story is fictional and
does not depict any actual person or event.

Motley Crue
“Kickstart My Heart”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F8UYGQeavRw

July 22, 1988

The driver of the tan station wagon didn’t even have a license plate to go off of when a blurry deep blue car cut him off at the intersection of Chestnut St. and S 2nd St. at speeds well over the posted limit. All he could catch was some writing on the driver’s side door: ‘Mach 3’ painted in white. But this would soon be forced out of his memory when four more fast-moving cars blew past him.

But the ‘Mach 3’ driver had only one concern on his mind as he turned right onto S Front St. and then right again onto Walnut St. This was the silver Isuzu in front of him with a large black star painted across the rear window. A black circle surrounded the star and under this was written one word also in black: ‘Torch’.

Perhaps he should have been paying more attention to the racers behind him, for, after turning right onto S Broad St., he felt a jarring impact on the right side of the car from a yellow Subaru that was attempting to push past him. The impact sent the ‘Mach 3’ car into a fish tail. The driver was forced to slam on the break as he steered frantically to make the recovery. When he finally straightened out he was no longer staring at silver or even yellow. He was seeing red in the form of a red Dodge with the word ‘Viper’ painted in white across the rear. He had lost at least two positions. He was now in the bottom three, and, as a prospect, this was not where he wanted to be.

The racers did a lap around City Hall Station before turning onto Market St. They were close to the finish, and the ‘Mach 3’ driver knew he was in trouble. … Or was he? As he made the right turn onto N 17th St., he saw that ‘Viper’ was no longer in front of him. Nobody was.

For a brief moment he thought he had somehow pulled off a win. As he turned on to Arch St., all he saw in front of him was the tall Hispanic girl in a black dress and matching heels near a vacant lot marking where the finish point was. But the feeling was short lived as suddenly four cars in a row shot out of a nearby alley; the silver ‘Torch’ car leading the pack. They raced to the girl who waved a red flag after the third place racer blew past her. It was over.

The cars came to a screeching halt in the lot. A white male in torn jeans, black sneakers, and white tank who stood nearly 6 ft. tall exited the ‘Torch’ car. The girl walked up to him and whispered in his ear. “Well people, it would seem that victory is mine, and ‘Cherry’ over here tells me that all three prospects landed in the bottom half.”

“That’s very disappointing for the future of our crew,” ‘Cherry’ added. She walked over to the ‘Mach 3’ car. “But it also means that three pink slips are up for grabs; it’s time to pay the piper. Didn’t anyone tell you? Prospects put their wheels on the line when they challenge the Black Star Racers. That’s why most people aren’t stupid enough to do it.”

Cold Case Soundtrack: “Late Returns” www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OfqgkuLo7s

A blue car door with a black star in the center of a black circle with ‘Mach 3’ painted under it in black sank to the bottom of the Delaware River with a body clinging to it.

Lilly Rush and Scotty Valens met John Stillman and Andrew Darius along the banks of the Delaware. They arrived in time to see two uniformed officers loading prisoners into a white van. “Some kind of prison half day?” asked Scotty.

“I guess for them it is. A community service cleanup crew was picking up trash along the Delaware today when one of the prisoners got a little more than he bargained for,” Stillman explained. He motioned to the scene behind him; a blue car door with a black star in the center of a black circle painted on it. The words ‘Mach 3’ were painted in black underneath the circle, and a skeleton clung to the inside of the door. “The prisoner speared the door first, and after some digging it came up from the water along with the bones.”

“Medical examiner says we’re looking at a young adult male, most likely Caucasian,” Darius added.

“No visible signs of trauma are present on the skeleton. Most likely this guy drowned, but how he ended up in the water is anyone’s guess. I put a call in to have divers search this section of the river, but I’m thinking any forensic evidence from the body was probably washed away a long time ago,” Stillman informed.

“Are you sure this guy is ours? How do we know he doesn’t belong to the New Jersey side of the river?” asked Scotty.

“Vera and Miller put a call into Camden, NJ earlier, but who knows how long it will be before we get a response?” Stillman replied. “This tag looks familiar though.”

“You knew this guy?” asked Lilly.

Stillman shook his head. “I don’t recognize this particular vehicle, but I recognize this black star with the circle around it. It was an emblem used to identify members of this band of illegal street racers that terrorized Philadelphia and surrounding counties for the better part of the late 1980s.”

Lilly bent down over the body and retrieved a piece of plastic that was sticking out of the pocket of the blue, button-down shirt that still hung on the body. “Our guy has a license, and it does appear to be a white male. … ‘Andy Rickon’. … The license was issued on June 7, 1989 in … Gary, IN?”

“A guy comes all of the way from Indiana to take part in an underground street race in Philly?” asked Scotty.

“These guys all went by street names, Scotty; it’s probably a forgery,” insisted Stillman.

“What are the odds that it’s probably a stolen car too?” asked Andrew.

“I can’t rule it out; the racing wasn’t the only thing these guys were known for,” Stillman replied.

Scotty sneered. “So to summarize we don’t know whose car this is, we don’t know how it ended up in the water, and we don’t know if ‘Andy Rickon’ is a real person.”

Lilly looked up from the body. “Who doesn’t love an easy one?”

www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaw9Vpa0JDM

2

Nick Vera was seated at his desk on the phone back at the station. “I can assure you, sir, this is not a prank phone call. … I really am a cop. … I’m sure you’ve had a few new cars since then. … Did you or did you not file a stolen vehicle report regarding a blue Ford Escort Sedan back in 1989? I just need you to tell me if you remember anything new about that incident. Did you see the guy … and that’s another hang-up.”

“At least people are talking to you,” Miller added from the desk beside him. “All of these other police departments just keep passing me around. I’ve tried New Jersey, Delaware, and, just in case, Indiana. Nobody can find this guy.”

“There’s nothing in our files either,” Stillman added as he approached them with Lilly, Scotty, and Andrew in tow.

“We checked records all of the way from 1988-1992. Nobody reported any Andy Rickon matching our guy’s description missing in all of that time; this guy is a ghost,” Lilly informed.

“I fared slightly better in my research of the Black Star club. I asked around highway patrol if they knew anything about them. Nobody I had spoken to had ever heard of the Black Stars, but they pointed me to this guy ‘old man Don’,” Stillman explained.

“’Old man Don’?” Scotty asked.

“Don Larken, he’s a highway patrol officer, and according to the guys I talked to he’s a patrolman from way back. Like 1988 back,” Stillman added.

“Over 22 years on the force and the guy is still a beat cop,” Andrew intervened.

“Not everyone wants the pressure of a higher position. I can’t say that I blame them,” insisted Stillman. “Rush and Valens, head down to Patrol and see what he remembers. Meanwhile, the rest of us will keep digging.”

Don Larken was a tanned white-haired man of 50 dressed in the deep blue of his uniform. Lilly and Scotty followed him past another officer instructing someone to blow into a breathalyzer before arriving at his desk. “It’s not every day that the brass comes down to see us street grunts. What can we possibly do for you?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call us ‘the brass’; we have a boss too,” insisted Scotty.

The group sat around Don’s white, metal desk. Lilly pulled a photograph out of the file she was carrying. It was of a rusted car door with a black star in the center of a black circle painted on it with the words ‘MACH 3’ painted below that. “Word around the department is you’re the one to ask about this.”

Don took the picture and sneered. “Yeah, I remember this, and I would just as soon never see the damn thing again,”

“It sounds like you had a few run-ins with these guys,” insisted Lilly.

“They may think it’s harmless fun, but street racers like them cause thousands of accidents all over the country every year. Those Black Star bastards were the bane of my existence in the 1980s, especially that one,” Don explained.

“’MACH 3’. What was so special about him?” asked Scotty.

“Maybe that’s what they called him; we called him the ‘wizard’,” Don replied.

“’Wizard’?” asked Lilly.

“I broke up quite a few of their races and made a bunch of arrests, but I just could never catch this one. Furthermore, I don’t know if they were just that loyal to each other, or if they were afraid of him, but I couldn’t get anyone to flip on him either,” Don explained. “After a while, he started to get into everyone’s heads. I don’t know what it was, but it was like he was always a step ahead of us …”

Kenny Loggins
“Danger Zone”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yK0P1Bk8Cx4

“There was one day in early spring of 1989 that I still remember. I responded to a call about a pair of reckless drivers in Queen’s Village. The pair consisted of a yellow convertible chasing a blue car, and they both had those circle and star logos painted on the sides. I was pursuing the pair at speeds over 90 mph.; I remember that because I looked at the speedometer when I got a call over the radio from the dispatcher. ‘Charlie 1-6. Charlie 1-6, the supervisor is requesting a report. What should I tell him?’

“I followed the pair as they took a screeching, wide right turn onto S 5th St. ‘Dispatch … Dispatch, this is Charlie 1-6. Racers are now moving north on S 5th St. Requesting a roadblock, dispatch. We’re in a residential area, and these guys won’t stop unless we stop them.’

“’I copy, Charlie 1-6. Working on getting units ready for a roadblock near your location,’ she responded.

“We traveled for a few more miles when suddenly the blue car, the ‘Mach 3’ car, veers to the right and detours down a side street. ‘Dispatch, requesting additional support; the racers have split up. I repeat, the racers have split up.’ Meanwhile, I was still in pursuit of the yellow convertible. I heard the loud crunch of broken glass as we approached the roadblock and he hit the units hard. The car stopped dead and I pinned him n from the side.”

“That still bugs the hell out of me to this day; it’s like he knew that roadblock was coming. I issued an APB for the ‘Mach 3’ car, but we never found him,” Don finished.

“Well, somebody did,” insisted Scotty.

“You don’t know anything else about the ‘Mach 3’ car. We’re trying to narrow down our search efforts somehow,” Lilly added.

“Not much, it’s not like these cars had license plates on them,” Don replied.

“What about the other driver who you busted?” asked Scotty.

“He started talking once the paramedics cleaned him up. I couldn’t get him to flip on the other guy, but he called himself ‘Slick’. His real name, Brian Taylor. He ended up doing six months in jail for all of the moving violations he had racked up by that time,” Don explained.

“Queen’s village is near the Delaware River where the bones turned up,” Scotty explained.

“So maybe Brian gets out of the slammer and decides he wants payback for getting arrested. Let’s call the name in,” insisted Lilly.

Vera and Miller tracked Brian Taylor to a company called ‘Speedsafe Raceway’ in Upper Darby. The crew cut and brown khakis were a significant change from the long hair and leather jacket that he was wearing in the mug shot they had on record for him. “Brian Taylor?” asked Miller.

“That would be me. You look a little to official to be customers though. Please don’t tell me I’m being audited,” Brian replied.

The pair flashed their badges. “Maybe, we’ll see how this goes. Detectives vera and Miller, Philadelphia police. We were wondering if you could tell us something about this guy,” said Vera as he showed a copy of the Rickon ID.

Brian scanned the ID briefly. “’Andy Rickon’, I’m afraid that name doesn’t ring any bells with me.”

“How about ‘Slick’ or ‘Mach 3’?” asked Miller.

“We know about your underground racing days in the late 1980s,” insisted Vera.

“You were a part of a crew called the Black Stars. Rickon was ‘Mach 3’, and you were ‘Slick’ according to your arrest record,” Miller.

Brian took the picture and looked it over again. “Yeah, ‘Mach 3’, I remember him. I didn’t know that was his real name though. Why are you bringing up ancient history anyway?”

“This driver’s license turned up on a body that we pulled from the Delaware recently,” Vera informed. “Do you remember a spring day in 1989 when you went one on one with Mr. Rickon?”

“Over twenty years ago I raced a lot of people,” Brian replied.

“But this particular race has to stick in your memory. Especially the part where you slammed into a police roadblock,” insisted Miller.

“Rickon escaped police custody that day, you didn’t,” Vera added. “You ended up in jail because of that race.”

Brian limped out from behind the counter where he was standing dragging his left leg behind him. “Fine, I raced him once. I don’t exactly like to talk about that day; that collision is how I ended up with this limp.”

“I’d hate to see the officer you plowed into,” insisted Vera.

“Well, I did get one idea from that. People call street racers punks or deviants; the truth is most of us were just bored kids who happened to know a few things about cars. I figure people like to race, why not let them race in a controlled environment where someone can monitor things? It took a long time but I was able to build this place,” Brian explained. “Anyway, you say you found that picture on a body?”

“Yes, and you denied knowing him at first. It has us thinking maybe you got released and hit the streets looking for a no-holds-barred rematch,” Miller responded.

“Two things wrong with that theory. First, I didn’t exactly have a car when I got out. Second, the old crew was decimated by the time I got out. I figured he either got locked up or moved on to another town. Philly cops had it out for us at that point,” Brian explained.

“You don’t say,” Vera sneered.

“He was a prospect when I first met him,” insisted Brian.

“Prospect?” asked Miller.

“Somebody willing to put his ride on the line for a chance to join the Black Stars. He was one of three that all lost a big race we had; he was also one of the two that were lucky enough to still make it in. You should be looking for the guy who lost it all,” Brian explained.

“We might, if you give us a name,” insisted Miller.

“I can’t do that. It was the road code, no real names. All I know is that he called himself ‘Viper’. I don’t know if that was for the red Dodge Viper that he drove, or if it was for his personality…”

Skid Row
“18 and Life”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5RHX4QUp_I

“The race ended in a vacant lot on N 17th St., and all three prospects finished in the bottom half as I said. This skinny white guy who called himself ‘Torch’ won the race that day, so he got to hold their fates in his hands. ‘This is how it works, prospects. When you finish in the bottom half, your fate rests with the dice,’ he said pulling a single black and white die from the pocket of his ripped jeans. ‘1 or 6 means I get the 4th place car, 2 or 5 means I get the 5th place car, and 3 or 4 means I get the last place car.’

“’Torch’ shook the die in his hand before throwing it in the dirt. A 1 came up. ‘4th place, according to her that was the Dodge Viper.’

“’That’s bull crap!’ ‘Viper’ shouted. I remember he was this big muscle head guy in white shorts and a black tank. He was tanned with a thick, black goatee and he had this long, green snake tattoo on his left arm.

“’Mach 3’ stepped up to ‘Viper’. ‘Cool off, ‘Viper’,’ he said.

“’No, I beat your ass! This is bull crap!’ Viper shouted.

“’You lost, take it like a man,’ said this Spanish girl in a black dress as she retrieved a can of black spray paint from the red tool box next to her. She walked over to the ‘Mach 3’ car and started painting a black circle on the driver’s side door.

“’Hey, I beat his ass! Don’t mark him!’ ‘Viper’ shouted.

“’It wasn’t his number that came up,’ said the girl. ‘Viper charged at her and grabbed her wrist trying to wrench the paint out of her hand.

“’Mach 3’ ran over to her. ‘Leave her alone!’

“’Get out of my face, bitch!’ ‘Viper’ yelled as he shoved ‘Mach 3’. ‘I beat you on the street; I can do it here too!’

“I stepped in along with ‘Torch’. ‘You’ll have to beat us too! He’s one of the crew now which means if you mess with him, you mess with us!’

“That backed him up a few steps. But we still weren’t sure what he was going to do when he picked up a wrench from the tool box. ‘I will get another car, and when I catch you on the street again, I’m going to make you eat this wrench!’ Then he threw the wrench at the car, shattering the left tail light, and stormed off.”

“Those guys did not like to lose. But ‘Mach 3’ got stronger after that. I wonder how many holes he actually ended up with,” Brian added.

“Holes?” asked Miller.

“Drill marks on the racers’ dashboards. That’s how they kept a count of all the races they won. Last I heard, I think ‘Mach 3’ had about forty of them. ‘Torch’ had twice as many as that; it was his crew after all,” Brian explained.

“So who was this girl that he rescued?” asked Vera.

“Once again, I don’t have a name. The crew just called her ‘Cherry’,” Brian replied.

“’Cherry’?” asked Miller.

“She wasn’t a racer; she was more like our expert mechanic. If you need something fixed, you went to her,” insisted Brian.

“Thank you for your time. We will be in touch,” said Miller as the pair left the track.

Scotty walked up to Stillman’s desk the next day. “I see you came in on time today, boss. Is Carla settled in?”

“She is still waiting on a few boxes from home, but other than that she’s set up. I’m thinking about asking her to meet my family soon,” Stillman informed.

“You don’t think that’s moving a little fast?” asked Scotty.

“Maybe, but what are we waiting for at our age?” asked Stillman.

Miller walked up to the pair. “Boss, I did some digging on other members of the Black Star crew. Most of them never got out of the game and have records farther than I can reach. But two names came back to the aliases that Brian Taylor gave us. Danny ‘Torch’ Eurich who is currently locked up in Graterford for armed robbery, and Trent ‘Viper’ Yardley who is in the system but whose current whereabouts are unknown.”

“They caught ‘Viper’? Maybe he should have gotten rid of the tattoo,” insisted Scotty.

“His birth certificate lists a hospital in New Jersey. I’ll try there, again. But that’s not all. I just heard from the divers along the Delaware,” said Miller placing the documents she was holding on Stillman’s desk. “They haven’t found much from the wreckage yet except for a tire with a bullet lodged in it. I’d say this is officially a homicide.”

3

A prison guard locked eyes with Scotty as he and Lilly headed for the visitation area at Graterford prison. “Valens.”

“Jared Reese. We’re just here to talk to someone,” insisted Scotty.

“Yeah, they cleared you to enter. But if it’s all the same, I think I’ll do a prisoner roll call after you leave anyway,” insisted Jared as he walked away.

“The boss couldn’t have sent somebody else to do this,” Scotty replied.

“You could try asking for special treatment, but they might ask why,” Lilly informed as another guard cleared them to enter the visitation area where Danny Eurich was seated behind a Plexiglas divider. His completely shaved head hovered over his prison-issued orange jumpsuit.

They picked up the phones as Lilly spoke. “Danny Eurich, my name is detective Lilly Rush; this is my partner Scotty Valens—“

“They told me some pigs were coming for me. I’ve got nothing to say to you,” insisted Danny.

“Old habits die hard it seems. I guess I’ll just tell them to add that murder charge to your record. Enjoy spending the rest of your time in solitary,” Scotty added.

“What the hell is he babbling about?” asked Danny.

Lilly showed him a copy of the Rickon ID. “Andy Rickon, he was one of your old street racing buddies back in the late 1980s. His body was found recently along with a car door with black star and circle painted on it,”

“I don’t know him,” Danny replied.

“How about ‘Mach 3’? Do you know him now?” asked Lilly.

“Or how about ‘Torch’?” Scotty added. “We know you used to run the Black Star racers, Danny. How else do you explain all of those auto theft convictions in the 1980s?”

“It must have really cramped your style when LoJack became popular. Is that why you switched over to burglary and armed robbery?” asked Lilly.

Danny shook his head. “I already messed up my life. I’m a three strike offender. Why the hell should I tell you anything? What’s in it for me?”

“How about the chance to touch a real woman again before you die instead of that ten-year-old copy of ‘Hustler’ in your cell?” asked Lilly.

“Are you offering?” asked Danny.

“We’re done here,” insisted Scotty as he stood up from the table.

“Wait! What do you mean?” Danny demanded.

“Word around the prison is that you have a girl on the outside, and you’ve been petitioning for conjugal visits since they applied the third strike to your last conviction. Talk to us and maybe we can make that happen,” insisted Scotty.

Danny sighed. “I recognize him, but that’s not who I knew him as. I knew him as Chuck Weisman,”

Lilly’s ears perked up. “He told you his real name. What happened to this ‘road code’ we keep hearing about?”

“I found out by accident. I overheard him talking to this girl while she was working on his car,” Danny explained.

“’Cherry’. Tell us about her,” Scotty insisted.

“She was the Black Star mechanics expert. She was kind of a weird case too. She found out who I was, and challenged me to a race. We raced back to this abandoned warehouse that we used as a garage, and I smoked her off the line. I figured I would take the pink slip and never see her again. But two days later, she shows up at the warehouse with tips on how to make my car faster,” Danny explained.

“If she knew how to go faster, how did she lose?” asked Scotty.

“I guess I got lucky that day. Anyway, I figured her showing up at my door again was pretty ballsy, so I let her join us,” Danny added. “You said you found part of the car? It must have been a door handle, because that was practically a stock car by the time those two were done with it…”

Pebbles
“Mercedes Boy”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUtG5xnWmR4

“Cherry had just drilled another hole on my dashboard after I racked up another win against Chuck. I was about to leave the warehouse when they started talking. ‘Cherry, how much of my car’s interior could be stripped?’

“’Most of it if you give me time. What for?’ Cherry asked.

“’Every ounce lighter is a few seconds faster, right? I haven’t won anything since I joined; these guys all see me as some lucky loser. I need to win some races if I’m going to get any respect with this crew,’ Chuck replied.

“Cherry walked over to the red, metal tool chest in the far right corner of the garage. ‘I can do it, but you won’t beat these fools with speed alone.’

“’Maybe not now. But I’m a good driver, and once you work on the car—‘

“’How did you lose that first race?’ asked Cherry.

“’I don’t know. All of the sudden I just looked up from my steering wheel, and a bunch of cars came flying out of the alley in front of me,’ Chuck told him.

“’That’s how you lost; you stuck to the streets. You may know driving, but this crew knows the city. You’re not from Philadelphia, are you, ‘Mach 3’?” asked Cherry.

“Chuck couldn’t speak at first. Then he sighed, ‘How did you know?’

“’You still look a little too tanned to have lived in the city long. I’m guessing you spent a lot of time at the beach growing up; it’s how a fellow ‘New Jerseyan’ can always tell one of her own. Anyway, I got to stay because I knew how to tighten a few screws, but if you want success with this crew, this is what you need.’ Cherry explained as she pulled some documents out of the chest and handed them to him.

“’Maps?’

“’If you want to win races, you need to know every alley, shortcut, and dirty trick that they might throw at you,’ Cherry insisted.

“Chuck leaned back against the wall behind him. ‘As long as we’re trusting each other, I’m getting a little tired of not knowing anyone here. My name is Charles Weisman; most people call me Chuck.’

“’Don’t tell that to too many people here. If the cops catch one of them, the last thing you want is for that one to have a name he can give them,’ Cherry informed.

“’If that happens, I’ll just have to out run them,’ Chuck responded.

“’You might want to win a few races before you get cocky,’ Cherry told him. She walked back to the ‘Mach 3’ car. ‘Carmen Mendoza.’

“’Now who’s being cocky?’ asked Chuck.

“’The cops won’t come after me. I’m not the one tearing up the roads. Now, I believe we both have work to do,’ insisted Cherry as she turned back to the car.”

“If I was going to kill anybody, it would have been her for making him decent. He actually beat me a few times,” Danny added.

“Real names for both of them; how close were these two?” asked Scotty.

“It’s hard to say. I heard rumors from a few in the crew that Carmen offered ‘additional services. Rumor was, by the time she was done with you, your car wouldn’t be damaged goods anymore,” Danny replied.

“Just so you know, this deal is dependent on us closing a case. If we find out you held back to us, you can forget about ever seeing your girl again,” said Lilly as she hung up the phone.

Lilly’s phone began to vibrate across her desk back at the station. She touched the screen to bring up a text message and read it slowly. She jumped around when a shadow appeared over her. “Scotty.”

“I don’t usually scare you. What’s up, someone send you a dirty message?”

“Not exactly, but it does concern me,” insisted Lilly.

“Something to do with the case?” asked Scotty.

Lilly showed him the message: “I’M IN THE CITY; I WOULD LIKE TO SEE YOU.” “Don’t freak out, but it’s from Ryan.”

Scotty stepped backward. “What do you think he wants?”

“I’m not sure; he doesn’t actually go into details,” Lilly told him.

“You haven’t been able to reach him forever, and now he finally sends a message your way. He wants something,” insisted Scotty.

“Well, whatever it is, I’ll deal with it,” Lilly replied.

Then Stillman approached the desk. “Any luck locating Trent ‘Viper’ Yardley?”

“We’ve been placing calls everywhere; nobody in the tristate area seems to know where he is,” insisted Scotty.

“It’s still early in the day; try contacting the local media outlets and getting the Rickon picture and the ‘Viper’ sketch we got from Brian Taylor on the news. Make sure to mention the name Chuck Weisman also; maybe somebody will see the pictures and we will get lucky,” Stillman explained. “Meanwhile, I found Carmen Mendoza. Me and Darius are headed down to the garage on Essington Ave. where she apparently works now.”

Stillman and Darius found Carmen Mendoza under the hood of a blue CRV at the Honda dealer on Essington Ave. “I don’t know what you’re talking about; I’m a completely legitimate mechanic now,” insisted Carmen.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a ‘completely legitimate’ auto mechanic before. Have you?” asked Andrew.

“Not when we have statements that suggest otherwise,” John added.

“It’s true, it ran in my family. My father was a mechanic, my brother was a mechanic, and two of my uncles are mechanics,” Carmen explained.

“I wonder how they felt about you using your craft to help a bunch of guys who liked to play ‘Need for Speed’ with real cars,” Stillman intervened.

“Former members of the Black Star racers are talking to us. They named you as the crew’s in-house mechanic, ‘Cherry’,” Andrew said.

Carmen dropped the wrench she was holding. “Fine, I used to be one of them. Judge me if you want, but I got a lot of my old skills from working on those cars. Back then all you needed was a screw driver and a wrench. Cars are getting more and more computerized now; I actually had to go back to school. But the Black Stars haven’t been a crew for years. Why are you bringing this up now?”

“We heard you were pretty friendly with a fellow New Jersey resident by the name of Chuck Weisman otherwise known as ‘Mach 3’. His body and part of his car were found near the Delaware a few days ago,” Stillman explained.

Carmen stepped backwards. “Chucks dead? … Wait, how do you know his name?”

“For a group that was all about secrecy, you two had some pretty loose lips. One of our guys overheard you talking when you were stripping down his car.”

Carmen sighed. “Do you know how he died or when?”

“Based on the fake ID he was carrying; we think it must have been somewhere in the summer of 1989. It’s looking like he was in the middle of a race when someone shot out one of his tires sending off the bridge,” Darius informed.

“I told him he had to be more careful; that group had some shady characters in it,” insisted Carmen.

“Did you ever see any of them with a gun?” asked Darius.

“No, but given some of the stuff they were into, it would only make sense,” Carmen replied.

“What kind of stuff are we talking about?” asked Darius.

“Street racing is not a cheap hobby. Fuel, tires, oil, spare parts: it all adds up after a while. I always wondered where they got the cash for all of it. Then one night I overheard a conversation, and I found out some of those guys were involved with a very different kind of speed…”

Frida
“I Know There’s Something Going On”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OTPOzd16-4

“’Torch’ walked into the garage one night when Chuck was standing next to his car. ‘I just worked out the details with Marquez’s pickup man; apparently Filipe’s getting nervous with more of our guys getting pinched lately. So he wanted us to get an outsider to drop the second half of the crystal.’

“’Who’s the other guy?’ Chuck asked.

“’A former prospect, actually. He still wants in the crew so bad that I’m letting him move the other half of the package,’ ‘Torch’ replied. A tanned man with a snake tattoo on his left arm entered the garage. ‘I believe you know ‘Viper’.’

“’What the hell is this fool doing here?’ asked Viper he said as he charged at Chuck.

“’Torch’ stepped between. ‘Easy ‘Viper’, you two are on the same side tonight. He’s delivering the other half of the crystal.’

“’So, he’s not one of us yet? If he wants in, let him take both bags. I don’t want to do this. Pissing off a few traffic cops is one thing, but this mess is federal time,’ Chuck told him.

“’If you want hole 50 on your dashboard, you’re doing this, because I know your tricks. I know how you got ‘Slick’ busted last week,’ ‘Torch’ added.

“’I made him hit a police roadblock,’ Chuck responded.

“’One that you conveniently missed. You see, when you came back to the garage, you left your ‘radio’ on,’ ‘Torch’ explained. He pushed past Chuck and opened his door. He started messing with some box on his floor. A bunch of static echoed off of the walls followed by a female voice. ‘Echo 1-5, echo 1-5, we’re getting some loud noise complaints from some residents in—‘
‘Torch’ turned down the radio.

“’What, you’re a pig now? You all are wired; you set me up!’ ‘Viper’ shouted.

“’I’m no pig; that’s just a scanner!’

“’Where the hell did you get a piece, ‘Viper’?’ ‘Torch’ asked as he stepped in between them again. I looked up suddenly, and there was ‘Viper’ with a gun.

“’For cops, you don’t keep good track of your weapons—‘

“’Torch’ grabbed ‘Viper’s’ wrist and twisted it until the gun fell from his hand. ‘You want to stop talking now. I’m no cop! We don’t know that he’s one either! If one of us was wired, don’t you think they would have stormed the place by now?’ He released his grip, and ‘Viper’ backed off. ‘You’re doing this delivery so you can join the crew, and you’re doing this so I know that I can trust you. Are we clear?’.”

“Chuck flagged me down after that and asked if I knew any way to make it look like his car had stalled out so he couldn’t make the drop,” Carmen added.

“Police scanner, that’s how he stayed ahead of the cops,” said Andrew.
“He was in over his head. I thought you said you never saw anyone with a gun in that garage before,” insisted Stillman.

“I was so confused at that point. For all I knew it was ‘Viper’s’ gun, and he was playing some kind of con game with them. I swear I had never seen any guns in that garage before that,” Carmen replied.

“Who was Filipe Marquez?” asked Darius.

“Some dealer that the crew was muling for I guess. I certainly never met the guy. That was my wake-up call; I bailed on the racing scene after that,” Carmen explained.

“But Chuck stayed. Did you help him that night?” asked Stillman.

“I did what I could, but like I said, I bailed on the racing scene after that. I never saw Chuck again after that,” insisted Carmen.

“Thank you for your time; we’ll be in touch,” insisted Darius as they walked away. “Every cop worth his badge knows who Filipe Marquez is, a major meth dealer out of Juarez, Mexico. If they were working with him, this case just entered a whole new level of crazy.”

“Danny Eurich didn’t tell us this part of the story, but now we know this Trent Yardley brought a gun into play. We need to find him, now,” Stillman added.

The pair was about to enter their black sedan when Andrew stopped suddenly. “’Need for Speed’, boss?”

“I have grandchildren, Darius,” insisted Stillman as they drove away.

Nick Vera and Kat Miller sat at their desks later that night at the station. Stillman and Darius approached the desk. “Ballistics report came back on the bullet recovered from the tire. The shell is consistent with a .40 caliber bullet from a 10 mm handgun; not a standard police weapon in 1989. Cops were using Colt 45s at that point.”

“So much for ‘Viper’s’ cop theory. It probably belonged to one of Marquez’s enforcers. From what I’ve heard, ‘the butcher of Juarez’ is the kind of guy who gets off on blood. He probably wouldn’t have taken too kindly to Chuck backing out of a delivery,” insisted Miller.

“I’m not sure that’s what happened. The divers along the Delaware called in a crane earlier today when they found the frame of a blue 1987 Chevrolet Beretta,” Vera explained.

“It does fit the time frame, but are we sure it was our car?” asked Stillman.

“Two things gave it away. One, it was just a frame; the interior was pretty much stripped except for the driver’s seat just like Danny said. Two, the dashboard was full of small holes just like Brian said; there were fifty of them,” Vera informed.

“Carmen said that if Chuck made the deal, he would get hole number fifty on his car,” Darius added. “I guess he made the drop.”

“There were no drugs in the car when they found it,” Vera explained.

“That stuff could have washed away years ago,” Stillman added.

“Or maybe he pulled some kind of double cross. Chuck’s car ended up in the river; that tells me that someone was trying to send a message to this crew,” insisted Miller.

A tanned man in jeans and a red and white striped jacket approached the group. “Is this the Philadelphia cold case unit?” he asked.

“Yes, can we help you?” asked Stillman.

“I’m here about that body they said you found on the news. I recognized those pictures,” he told them. “I don’t know who the hell Andy Rickon was, but my name is Bradley Weisman. Chuck was my brother.”

4

Lilly was seated at a booth in a diner when a white man in a black suit approached her. “So you made it,” said the man as he took the seat across from Lilly and dropped a file on the table.

“Yes Ryan, although I am somewhat suspicious. I can’t reach you for months on end and then you suddenly text me out of the blue. What gives?” asked Lilly.

“I’m working a federal case in this area, and I thought I could use some local assistance,” Ryan explained.

“So, that’s what I am to you, ‘local assistance’. I don’t know how to tell you this, Ryan, but a few things have changed since we last spoke,” insisted Lilly.

“Well, you’re still here, so how much could have changed?” asked Ryan.

Lilly shook her head. “Never mind, I don’t want to argue. Actually, I could use some federal assistance. What do you know about Filipe Marquez?”

“About as much as anyone else. He’s a major player out of Juarez, Mexico wanted for meth trafficking and countless murders on both sides of the boarder, but nobody can make anything stick for him. How is it you’re brushing up against him?” asked Ryan.

“He’s been dealing for some time. I was wondering if you knew anything about his association with a group known as the Black Stars, a group of street racers that ran on the streets of Philadelphia back in the late 1980s,” Lilly explained.

Ryan sighed. “1980s, you say. The FBI and DEA were fighting major drug wars on several international fronts back then: heroin from China, marijuana from Colombia, cocaine from Peru. Crystal meth flew under the radar back then. Even if I could find anything, the feds don’t just give up information for nothing. But if you agree to help me with my case, maybe I can arrange some quid pro quo on my end.”

“I showed you mine; now it’s your turn,” Lilly replied. Ryan passed the folder over to her. Lilly looked at the name written on the white label across the top. “Vanessa Hawkins.”

“Philadelphia journalist during the 1970s, and a bit of political activist. She was found bleeding from a stab wound to the chest in FDR park on the night of July 4, 1976,” Ryan explained.

“Bicentennial, that could be some kind of statement,” Lilly added.

“The family has been putting pressure on the authorities to solve this one recently. When I saw this was near you I figured why not make good on that promise I made months ago,” insisted Ryan.

Lilly took the folder and stood up from the table. “I’ll send you the information on my case,” she said before she left.

Stillman and Darius had Bradley Weisman in the conference room later that night. “So you and your brother were from New Jersey?” asked Stillman.

Brad nodded. “Me, Chuck, and Trent Yardley. We all used to race on the streets of Camden County. They said you found my brother’s remains in the river.”

“Along with the remains of the blue Chevy he drove back then. Does the name ‘Mach 3’ mean anything to you?” asked Darius.

Brad nodded once more. “That was his tag from back before they left. It was ‘Mach 3’, ‘Viper’, and I was ‘Thunder’.”
“In other words, they knew each other before they tried to join the Black Star Racers. That would explain why he took losing so hard,” insisted Andrew.
“So Chuck made it, and look where it got him. Amazing, I spent all of those years being jealous of my brother for nothing,” insisted Brad.

“Jealous how?” asked Stillman.

“Chuck didn’t just decide to move on to the big city on his own. Trent had been doing some digging around on the street. One night I overheard them talking, and Trent tells him that there’s big money to be made racing in Philly…”

Sly Fox
“Let’s Go All the Way”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIcp9mnIeJ0

“Chuck and I worked at this Sheetz gas station in Camden back then. That night I was carrying trash bags to the dumpster, and Chuck was on the full service pumps. I turned around and saw Trent’s red Dodge Viper had pulled up to Chuck’s service station. ‘This sounds like a scam to me.’

“’I’m telling you, it’s totally straight,’ Trent insisted.

“’And I’m supposed to just trust this guy that I’ve never met before?’ asked Chuck.

“’I wouldn’t do you wrong, would I? I’m telling you, my guy ‘Torch’ is totally cool! He runs this crew in Philly called the Black Star Racers, and he says they make major money there,’ Trent explained.

“’We race for money here all of the time. How would this be different?’ asked Chuck.

“’We do pissy little hustles on the streets of this pissy little county. ‘Torch’ says we can make ten times as much as we do if we run with his crew. But there is a catch,’ Trent informed.

“’No kidding, what is it?” asked Chuck.

“’We’re only prospects right now. There’s an initiation, we would have to race him and a few members of his crew. We’re also not the only prospects,” Trent explained.

“’Damn it, Trent, why do you tell me about this stuff—‘

“’What are you afraid of? With our skills behind the wheel we’re in. There is nothing to worry about,’ insisted Trent.

“Chuck froze. ‘All right, I’ll check it out. But don’t expect me to cover your hot-headed ass when this goes south.’.”

“I asked him what that was all about later, and all he said was that he had to check out the scene and that he would try to set me up if he made it. Then time went by and I never heard from him. I had just assumed that he left me behind,” Brad added.

“Trust me, any money that your brother made with them came at a price,” insisted Andrew.

“We think your brother got mixed up with some very dangerous people. Trent might be able to help us identify them. Do you have any idea where he might be?” asked Stillman.

“I heard a rumor that he came back to Camden, but I haven’t seen him for years,” Brad informed.

Stillman and Darius rang the bell at the red, oak door in front of the green, one floor home on Collings Rd. in Camden, New Jersey. A tall, white male in blue coveralls answered the door. “Trent Yardley?” asked Stillman.

“Who the hell are you?” asked the man.

“Detectives Stillman and Darius, Philadelphia police,” insisted Stillman.

“Philadelphia? You’re a little lost, and I’m a little late for work if you haven’t noticed,” insisted the man.

“Then you might want to just answer our questions,” insisted Darius. “A body washed up along the shore of the Delaware a few days ago. We have reason to believe you knew him, Mr. Yardley.”

“Do you remember anyone by the name of Chuck Weisman?” asked Stillman.

The man shook his head. “I am Trent Yardley, but I don’t know that name.”

“How about ‘Mach 3’? That was Chuck’s name from his days in the late 1980s as an underground street racer/drug mule for a group called the Black Star Racers,” Darius added.

Trent started to sweat. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Don’t bother, we already know about your history with the Black Stars,” insisted Andrew. He then turned away from Trent and noticed the red Honda CRV parked outside his house. “You still have a fondness for red cars I see. Do you still have that snake tattoo on your arm, ‘Viper’? Or if you don’t remember him, then how about their old leader, Danny ‘Torch’ Eurich—“

Andrew turned back around to find himself face to face with Trent’s fist. It caught him square in the right eye knocking his head back and to the left. Trent bull rushed his way past the officers to his car knocking Andrew to the ground.

“Hey!” Stillman shouted, but Trent was already in his car with the engine on before Andrew recovered. “Stop your vehicle!” The car sped off into the street.

The detectives ran for their black sedan. Stillman started the engine on and called over the radio. “All officers in the area, this is Philadelphia detectives John Stillman and Andrew Darius! We’re currently in pursuit of a red Honda CRV on Collings Road! Be advised, suspect has assaulted an officer!” He turned to Andrew quickly. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. I just turned my head for one second … What Scotty told me when I first joined about cold case getting crazy, I think I get it now,” insisted Andrew.

Scotty leaned across the desk to see the file Lilly was reading. “Who the hell is Vanessa Hawkins?”

“A political protester from the mid1970s who was stabbed in FDR park,” Lilly explained.

“Did somebody come in with another one?” asked Scotty.

“Ryan. That’s why he wanted to see me last night. I figured he would help with our case if we helped with his. So I took the file,” Lilly informed.

“Are you sure that was all he wanted?” Scotty responded.

“Scotty, don’t start. I’m just helping with his case. It’s a favor for a favor—“

“We have to move!” Vera called as he and Miller charged up to them.

“What’s going on?” Lilly asked as they stood up.

“I just heard from Don Larken! Apparently he got a call from Stillman saying that he and Darius were questioning Trent in New Jersey! They brought up Danny Eurich’s name, and I guess that set him off because he took a swing at the rookie and bolted!” Vera informed.

“Okay, where are they now?” asked Scotty.

“Still chasing him around Camden, but Don wants us to assist with roadblocks and shutting down all traffic on the bridges!” Miller explained.

“Danny has lied to us about a few things now. You two handle the back-up; Scotty and I will deal with the prisoner,” Lilly told them as they ran from the office.

Scotty and Lilly met Danny Eurich once more in the visiting room at Graterford. “Your deal is off the table!” insisted Lilly.

“What?” he shouted.

“We found Carmen Mendoza; she told us a few things! Namely how your crew was riding dirty for a major meth pusher!” Scotty explained.

“We also found Trent Yardley, otherwise known as ‘Viper’! He’s been a little less cooperative! All we had to do was mention your name and he practically knocked out one of our guys and bailed! Given everything you didn’t tell us; I’m guessing there’s a connection!” Lilly added.

“I don’t know what it could be! You’ll just have to catch him and find out!” Danny replied.

“You think you have it bad in here; we can make it a lot worse! Do you know what Waynesburg Supermax is?” asked Scotty.

“Forget your girl; we can make sure you never see a window again!” Lilly added.

“The cops were busting your guys left and ride by this point; that was bad enough! Then suddenly this police scanner and this mysterious gun turn up, and now you don’t know who to trust!” Scotty continued.

“This was all around the time when ‘Viper’ was trying to get back into your crew! It has me thinking that maybe you planned a little initiation for him; like ordering a hit on Chuck Weisman!” Lilly added

“And I’m guessing you have proof of this?” Danny asked.

“We’ll get it! As we speak, we have guys out there chasing down Trent! So every second that you screw with us is another second that you get closer to Waynesburg!” Scotty insisted.

Danny sighed. “I don’t get why ‘Viper’ would be worried! He wasn’t the one I was questioning!”

“You had concerns about someone else?” asked Lilly.

“We had a major drop one night! We were running out of guys, so I had to use Chuck! But he was cracking under the pressure; I saw it before he left…”

Lita Ford
“Kiss Me Deadly”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKvUj1c36RY

“’Viper’ had already hit the street, but shortly after I heard Chuck and Carmen out behind the garage. ‘What do you mean? Nobody here knows engines better then you.’ Chuck said.

“’Why would you want me to help your car break down? Once you do this deal you’ll fifty holes. You’ll be a made member of the Black Stars,” Carmen replied.

“’Well, maybe I don’t want to be made if this is what it takes. Street racing was so much simpler back where I used to live. Maybe I should just leave the crew and head back to New Jersey. I know people there, and this way nobody gets hurt,” Chuck insisted.

“Carmen leaned in and kissed him briefly. ‘You know that’s not true.’

“’I don’t want to, but I don’t think I want to touch this stuff either. I’ve read newspapers; once you’re in with a guy like Marquez there are only two ways out, federal prison or a grave,’ Chuck informed as he leaned in and returned the kiss. I didn’t think much of this though; like I said, ‘Cherry’ flirted with a lot of us.

“But then she said something that made me wonder. ’Don’t quit the crew just yet. There might be something I can do,’ Cherry responded.”

“I got suspicious at that point, but later that night I got a page from the dealer saying that he got both packages,” Danny explained.

“I don’t get it; what was so special about getting fifty holes?” asked Scotty.

“It meant that he was made. In addition to any money he made from hustling racers on the street; he would also get a percentage from the distribution of the meth,” Danny told them.

“Chuck’s car was pulled up from the river with fifty holes in the dashboard. It looks like you didn’t have to worry about him. He made your deal,” Lilly insisted.

“I wasn’t so sure. ‘Viper’—this ‘Trent’—was in the crew after that night. Later the next day I saw Carmen had drilled him twice, and the ‘Mach 3’ car hadn’t been touched,” Danny explained.

“Trent was the only one seen with a gun. Maybe Chuck wanted something that Trent believed wasn’t his, and they got into it,” Scotty added.

“Officers in pursuit, this is Stillman giving you an update! Suspect is still running traveling northwest on Kenwood Ave. … Suspect is turning right! Suspect is turning right!” Stillman radioed in. He glanced down at his speed as he took the wide turn right: 90 mph. The turn sent his car well over the center line.

Still, they continued pursuit on Kaighns Ave until they reached an interchange. The red Honda made a left turn swerving across lanes. “Suspect has just made a hard left onto … … Admiral Wilson Blvd.?” Stillman added.

“That will take him right to the Ben Franklin Bridge. Tell me this guy isn’t that stupid,” Andrew responded.

Stillman called it in. “Philly PD, heads up! Suspect is headed in your direction!”

Miller and Vera arrived to fill in the right side of the roadblock spanning the center of the Ben Franklin Bridge. Soon after they heard Stillman’s call on the radio. “Looks like we arrived just in time,” insisted Vera.

Minutes later the red Honda appeared on the bridge speeding toward them. “That’s our guy, and he’s not slowing down,” Miller added.

“STOP YOUR VEHICLE!” Vera called out over the loud speaker.

But the car did not slow down. “He’s going to ram us!” Miller shouted. The next sound they heard was the shattering of glass shattering as the red Honda slammed into their car.

5

Stillman rolled up behind the wreckage, pinning the Honda from behind. The pair exited their car and surrounded the Honda from both sides. “GET OUT OF THE CAR! GET OUT OF THE CAR!” Stillman shouted. He and Darius stepped toward the wreckage with weapons ready as Trent slowly began to emerge from behind the airbag that had deployed during the crash.

The airbags on Vera and Miller’s car had activated as will. Slowly came to and noticed her partner not moving. She began trying to violently shake him awake. “Vera! Vera, can you hear me?”

“Yes!” Vera shouted as started to wake up. “My leg hurts like hell though; I don’t think I can stand!”

Miller exited through the passenger door careful to step around the broken glass as she approached Stillman. “Get the paramedics down here; Vera’s injured!” Trent gradually started to exit his vehicle. Miller approached with her weapon drawn. “DOWN ON THE GROUND!”

Trent exited his car and looked around at all of the police officers surrounding him. “I would think twice about running again if I was you!” said another face that Trent soon locked eyes with. It was Don Larken.

“Assaulting my partner, trying to run a roadblock, not exactly the actions of an innocent man! I’d say you’re looking pretty good for your friend’s murder!” insisted Stillman.

“I didn’t kill Chuck!” Trent replied.

“Why should you believe you? We know Chuck tried to set you up! First he tried to wimp out of that meth drop that you were both supposed to do, and then he left you holding both bags!” Darius responded.

“His car broke down on him; I had to take that second bag!” insisted Trent.

“Suddenly, you feeling like talking! What if we told you that Chuck asked ‘Cherry’ to make that breakdown happen? He set you up, Trent!” Darius added.

“Some setup, even if that was true! I didn’t exactly get busted that night!” Trent informed.

“Yeah, in fact you were an official Black Star after that; your dashboard started out with two drill marks!” Stillman responded.

“We know you pulled a gun on Chuck once! What happened, he got pissed off at you figuring that one of those holes was his? So you challenge him to a race across the bridge and pull your gun on him again!” Darius asked.

“You two were rivals from way back; you were tired of Chuck getting in your way!” Miller intervened.

“I didn’t shoot Chuck!” insisted Trent.

“That’s just it; Chuck wasn’t shot!” Stillman replied.

“We found his old Chevy at the bottom of the river too! How else do you think we knew about ‘Mach 3’?” asked Miller.

Trent sighed. “You mentioned ‘Torch’, and I panicked. I thought maybe he was turning on me.”

“Danny Eurich. Trent, he’s locked up; he won’t be seeing anyone for a long time. You’re saying he wanted Chuck dead?” asked Miller.

“The crew was getting picked apart by the cops; ‘Torch’ got really fixated on Chuck when he found that police scanner in his car. He was convinced that Chuck was a cop, and, frankly, I didn’t know what was going on either. That’s why I agreed to help,” Trent explained.

“You helped Danny kill your friend, but you weren’t the shooter,” Stillman added.

“No, I was the tail…”

Cold Case Soundtrack: “The Park” www.youtube.com/watch?v=yueBflg9PEE

“’Torch’—Danny—wanted me to drive his car during the night. ‘They should eventually hit S Front St. There’s an alley near the I-95 interchange. Once they hit that, I want you to follow them until they hit the Ben Franklin. That’s where it should go down,’ Torch explained.

“’I get it, but remind me again why I have to use your bucket instead of my ride?’ I asked.

“’Because if the shooter gets any doubts, I want them to know that I’m watching them. I don’t know if that’s your gun or not—‘

“’It’s not,’ I told him.

“’Whatever, it will help us tonight. After this, I’ll finally know who I can trust around here,’ Danny responded.

“’Are you talking about ‘Mach 3’ or me?’ I asked.

“’We threw your ass back out on the street, and yet you were to come back. No, right now, I don’t trust you. Make sure that this goes down, and you’ll be a full blown partner too,’ Danny informed. I shook his hand, reluctantly accepting his terms. Like I said, I didn’t know if Chuck had turned either.”

“Ironic, this is just about where his car was pushed into the river,” Trent added.

“So you just watched your friend get wacked?” asked Darius.

“It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I hadn’t seen him for a while after I lost out the first time. That scanner he had made me suspicious too; I didn’t know if I could trust him anymore,” Trent replied.

“Who was the shooter?” asked Stillman.

“Stillman,” Miller called out as she approached him. “Lilly sent out a message a while ago; apparently her FBI contact came through. It appears both Charles Weisman and Andy Rickon both have legitimate Social Security numbers, and look at the date for when the Rickon was issued.”

Stillman took Miller’s phone. “’June 7, 1989’, the same as on the license we found. There’s only a few select groups of people who have the power to do something like that. Danny was right; there had to have been a rat in the cage.”

“I think we found that rat too,” Miller said as she touched her screen to bring up a photograph. “Apparently the FBI had been doing recon on the Black Stars for some time before they sent one of their people inside. Does this picture look familiar to you?”

Stillman looked at the picture and threw up his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me, another alias?”

Lilly and Scotty met Carmen outside of the Essington Avenue Honda dealer. “Detectives. Whatever you need, make it fast. I’m on a lunch break.”

“We just thought we would tell you that we think we know what happened to Chuck,” Scotty explained.

“It turns out the crew was right to paranoid. Somebody was working them from the inside,” Lilly added.

Carmen froze. “There was a cop in the crew?”

“Not quite. It turns out that the bullet recovered from Chuck’s tire matched a 10mm handgun; that’s never been a standard police weapon. But as it turns out, in 1989 it had just become the standard issue weapon for FBI agents,” Lilly explained.

Scotty pulled a photograph from the file he was carrying. It was of the Rickon license. “Do you recognize that name?” Carmen shook her head.
“That’s surprising since it’s practically your name.”

Lilly started reading a report from her phone. “’March 10, 1988: FBI office in Philadelphia agrees to sign off on a deep cover operation to investigate a group of underground street racers known as the Black Star Racers. The goal of this operation is to examine any alleged connections between the Black Star Racers and the crystal methamphetamine trafficking network of reputed Mexican drug lord Filipe Marquez. The agent selected to be placed in the field: Andrea Recona.’, and there’s a note written next to that name that says ‘Risky.’ But I am more interested in this photograph they have on record for her.” She turned a page in the file revealing Carmen’s picture. “Look familiar?”

“You’re Andrea Recona, otherwise known as Andy. Carmen the mechanic; I have to admit, that was clever. I wish I could have done something like that,” Scotty added.

“What?”

“For what it’s worth I’m the last person who should judge. I worked undercover for narcotics once. It was a simple enough smuggling operation until I got a little too close to one of the girls who was muling for the crew. Due to my mistakes and a few things outside of my control; she was eventually killed,” Scotty informed. “It can be a seductive world when you’re under cover. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember whose side you’re really on?”

“That would explain why you left the bureau in 1990,” Lilly added.

Andrea sighed. “Too many of the racers were getting busted for possession, and nobody was flipping. Marquez got spooked and stopped using them. Soon there was no more crew, and no more operation. What are you going to do?”

“As someone who has been in your shoes, I don’t want to do anything. But Chuck’s death didn’t just affect you,” Scotty insisted.

“He had family back in New Jersey, Andrea. One of them came forward, his brother. It seems they used to race together, and he’s spent the last 23 years thinking that Chuck abandoned him for the big city. He deserves some answers,” Lilly added.

“We also know you weren’t the only one involved in this. We have others in custody for the death of Chuck Weisman. If you testify against them, we might be able to help you with the FBI,” Scotty explained.

Andrea shook her head. “That would be ironic, wouldn’t it?”

“How is that?”

“I promised the same thing to Chuck. You said you worked in narcotics; then you know how narcotics works. It’s not enough to bust the junkies and the dealers; the cartel just replaces them. You have to get the suppliers, the people who supply them, the people who supply them, and the people who supply them going higher and higher up in the food chain before you can even get close to the top man. You have one body? I had hundreds of mangled, charred, mutilated, decapitated corpses! There’s a reason why they call Felipe Marquez ‘the butcher of Juarez’, and he’s still out there!

“We couldn’t get anyone to flip on the supplier for over a year; that’s why I took a calculated risk and told Chuck who I was. I thought we could help each other,” Andrea explained.

“Because you didn’t have to flip him,” Lilly added.

“He didn’t want anything to do with the meth; he just liked to race. I didn’t know how he would react when I told him that he would have to give that up once in witness protection,” Andrea informed. “My supervisor and I came up with a plan to save him. But ‘Torch’ had a plan too.”

“Danny Evans?” Lilly asked.

“The race that night was his idea, and I thought I could control the situation. But Danny had other tricks up his sleeve, and I had to make a tough choice…”

Cold Case Soundtrack: “Forever Blue” www.youtube.com/watch?v=es66B6MU5XU

“We met behind our crew’s garage a few nights after that last delivery. We were about to begin Chuck’s final race, but I took a few minutes with him to review some things. ‘You understand the plan, right? They need to think that you are dead, so when we hit the bridge I shoot out your tire. You will need to decrease your speed once we hit the bridge. The car goes over the bridge and sinks into the river before I have time to reach you. Traffic should be minimal at this time of the night so the risk of witnesses should be low.’

“Chuck froze solid to the floor. ‘I’m still reeling from finding out your name is really Andrea, but I think I get it,’ he said pulling the new license that we had printed for him out of his pocket. ‘Although, I’m not too crazy about this new identity you came up with. ‘Gary, Indiana’? Do I really look like Indiana to you?’

“’We had to get you as far away from anyone who might recognize you as we could,’ I explained. ‘You do understand what you are giving up. Charles Weisman doesn’t exist after tonight. Once you are in witness protection, you cannot tell anyone where you are; you would only be putting yourself and them at risk. Secondly, when we call on you to testify against Marquez or any of his subordinates, you need to be ready. Thirdly, and I cannot stress this enough, you are not a street racer anymore. If you commit a felony while in witness protection, the FBI cannot protect you anymore.’

“’I get it, and you don’t need to worry. ‘Mach 3’ no longer exists. After what I’ve seen, I think I’m ready to hang up my keys,’ Chuck replied.

“’That leaves me with one last detail,’ I said as I headed back into the garage. I returned shortly with my cordless power drill. ‘I’m going to need your key.’ Chuck was slow to react to this request, but he returned the license to his shirt pocket and retrieved his car keys. I opened the passenger door of his blue Chevy and drilled one last hole in his dashboard.

“What was that about?’ Chuck asked.

“I pulled him in close to me and kissed him one last time. I didn’t realize at the time just how ominous my next statement really was. ‘I just gave you your 50th hole. It seemed fitting since I’m going to lose tonight.’ We separated. I entered. I entered my white Ford; he entered his blue Chevrolet and we started our engines. His last race had begun.

“We started picking up speed as we hit the streets. We remained side by side for most of the race. Then we hit S Front St. and turned on to I-95. I started to slow down allowing Chuck to pass me on my right side. I slipped in behind him to get in a better position as we were about to make the right turn onto the bridge.

“I started gaining some ground on Chuck once we hit the bridge. So I slowed down to reach for my gun and line up my shot. We were about midway through the bridge. He was still moving a little too fast for my liking, but we were running out of time and space so I fired. A second bang could be heard as the bullet struck his left rear tire. Chuck’s car jumped upward suddenly and started skidding to the right. Chuck frantically tried to apply the brakes, but forward momentum kept him going until the car hopped over the edge of the bridge taking out part of the suspension.

“The front of the car was hanging over the edge of the bridge. I slammed the brakes of my car and started to run to him shouting, ‘Chuck!’

“I looked into Chuck’s window when I reached him. I saw him moving inside the car; it was slowly but I still figured this was a good sign. I punched out the window and yelled, ‘Chuck, open the door and take my—‘ That’s when I turned around and noticed a pair of headlights coming slowly towards us from behind. Then just stopped, and I could see the silver hood and then the Black Star logo across the rear window.

“It was Danny’s car. I slowly realized that this race had been his idea. He had either been following me, or he had me followed. Either way I had a choice to make. Do I blow my cover and try to save Chuck, or do I try to get them to trust me in the hopes of getting closer to Marquez? In the end, Marquez’s graphic statistics won out. It’s a choice I’ve questioned for a long time.

“Chuck gradually started to open the door, but when he reached out his hand for mine he found that it was gone. He clung precariously to the door and craned his neck to look for me. That’s when he saw me pushing the car from behind. ‘What are you doing? This wasn’t the plan! We had a DEEEEEEEEEEALLLL!’

“The door came off the hinges as the car went over the edge. It turned over on its left side sending up what looked like a small geyser as it hit the water. Chuck must have gotten trapped under the wreckage. I watched as the car sank to the bottom of the river, and Chuck did not return. Then I turned to face the headlights in a fit of rage. ‘Are you happy now you bastard! It’s done!’

Bon Jovi
“Blaze of Glory”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZbN_b6P8Ks

At the Benjamin Franklin bridge crash site, the paramedics loaded Nick Vera on to a stretcher and placed him in an ambulance. John Stillman put Trent Yardley in handcuffs. He would be charged with conspiracy to commit a homicide.

Any deals pending with Danny Eurich now having been nullified, the alarm sounded at Graterford prison as two guards escorted him through the prison gates in chains. He was escorted to a police van for transport to the Waynesburg Supermaximum Security facility.

Two cars were lined up on the track at Speedsafe Raceway. Brian ‘Slick’ Taylor was about to start the race when Kat Miller and Don Larken approached him. They explained to him about the moments leading up to the death of his friend.

Back at the station Lilly Rush and FBI agent Ryan Cavanaugh watched as Andrea Recona signed off on her confession. As this concerned a prior FBI operation, Lilly handed her over to FBI custody. Her fate was now in their hands.

Scotty placed a copy of Andrea Recona’s confession into a large, brown box. He then sealed the box and slapped an address label on it. The information inside was to be sent to the police in Camden, New Jersey. Then he headed for the conference room where Bradley Weisman, who Scotty had called in earlier, had been waiting. He explained the events leading to his brother’s death. Then Bradley looked through the glass door at the ghost of his brother before he faded from view.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=tUPyvYghXuU

Audio PowerPoint slides also available.

AFTER THE SHOW

I do not really have much to say this time around. You may recall me saying a few episodes back that there are some episodes that I am more proud of than others. I wanted to be proud of this episode. This idea sounded so much better in my head than in actual execution. It wound up being another case of throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what stuck. I would like to think an actual undercover operation would have been a little more organized than this.

I am a big computer gamer, and, if nothing else, I hope this serves as a lesson to the creators at "Need for Speed", "Grand Tourismo", "Forza", "The Crew", and other game franchises. STOP TRYING TO GIVE RACING GAMES A STORY! Convoluted, blown up messes like this are what happens when you try to give street racing a story!

I guess I can do some notes about the music. First off, I messed up one of the songs again, though it was not quite as bad in this case. Frida's "I Know There's Something Going On" was released in 1982. This is outside of my two year range, but at least it was in the earlier direction this time as opposed to the later direction which happened in a few previous episodes. For my bookend songs, I went with Motley Crue's "Kickstart My Heart" because it was a pure adrenaline rush. The term kickstart might be more applicable to motorcycles than cars, but this seemed like a good adrenaline rush to start off an episode about street racers. I went with Bon Jovi's "Blaze of Glory" at the end because Chuck was effectively an outlaw and that last race was his last stand.

This took longer than I thought it would, but there it is. You are now officially caught up.