Chapter 29: A Clash with the Lawyer (Seeking Continued Reading)

Two teams of officers escorted the Chinese woman known by the alias “Night Angel” back to the station. The search warrants for her phone and residence had already been approved. Her phone had been thoroughly combed through, every relevant piece of information recorded one by one. A third team had already set out for her home; with a major case like this, everyone wanted a share of the credit. If one team did all the work, resentment was sure to follow.

The data systems division at headquarters had been contacted to investigate Night Angel’s background and any possible transaction records. Naturally, this attracted the attention of the Narcotics Division, which immediately called and demanded to take over the case. Director Meza, however, firmly refused their request.

The Narcotics Division and the precinct were on equal footing, and if the precinct chose to ignore them, there was little the division could do, save for issuing empty threats: “Just don’t mess things up and come crawling back to us!”

No one took such bluster seriously; after all, they were all police officers. Who would look down on whom?

Night Angel was brought into the interrogation room and asserted only her right to remain silent. She would say nothing until her lawyer arrived, and she demanded her children be returned to her.

Naturally, the children could not be given back to her—this was a police station, not a daycare. Not to mention, she had been selling marijuana while accompanied by her underage children. Regulations required her custody rights to be temporarily revoked; Child Protective Services would be on their way as soon as they heard the news.

Ao Xi couldn’t help but marvel. Whether human or canine, everyone here had a lawyer. Lawyers would take any case as long as the fee was paid. Was this a true safeguard of rights, or just a way for the wealthy to escape justice more easily? It was hard to say.

While waiting for the lawyer, the team seized the opportunity to study the information they’d obtained. Night Angel’s real name was Yue Zhang, a Chinese national who had come to America on a spousal visa through her Chinese husband, obtaining a green card. She later divorced, and, by her own strong insistence, won custody of both children.

Yet Zhang had hardly worked since arriving in the States. Her ex-husband was not particularly wealthy, and even after the division of assets and child support payments from her ex, the combined sum barely covered rent, 401K contributions, legal fees, living expenses, car payments, and the costs of raising two children, not to mention her own spending. In other words, her outlays far exceeded her income. Somehow, she had ended up selling marijuana to make ends meet.

Based on the available evidence, Night Angel appeared to be only a distributor. She was a woman with little money, no place to grow the product herself, and two children in tow. She drove around contacting buyers online. It wasn’t a matter of underestimating her—someone like her was simply not cut out to be a kingpin.

But this raised new questions: where did the stash in her car come from? If even a small-time distributor like her had such a quantity, how much more must her supplier have?

Just then, they were notified that Night Angel’s lawyer was on the way and would arrive shortly.

Deputy Chief Robin was in charge of dealing with him, and he was rolling up his sleeves, eager for a contest with both Night Angel and her attorney.

As previously noted, Night Angel’s arrest was merely the beginning of the case.

Ao Xi took the chance to observe, relishing the opportunity to learn. Their shift had been specially adjusted for this operation—the arrest had come even faster and more smoothly than anyone had anticipated. Since their return to regular duty hadn’t been announced, they were free to chat, drink tea, and shoot the breeze in the office—a rare bit of leisure.

Before long, a sharply dressed man hurried in with a briefcase, announcing himself as the lawyer for Night Angel, whose real name was Yue Zhang. He requested a private meeting with his client.

As this was the defendant’s legal right, the police could not refuse. The lawyer entered the interrogation room, and the officers had to leave, giving them privacy for their discussion.

America really was lax, Ao Xi thought. Back home, none of this “won’t speak before seeing a lawyer” nonsense existed. Once in the interrogation room, a suspect had to talk, and a seasoned officer could get them confessing their entire genealogy. No such thing as private conversations with lawyers—during a criminal investigation, not even a meeting was allowed. Whether this was better or worse depended on perspective; there was no simple answer.

Yue Zhang and her lawyer conferred in low voices for quite some time before the lawyer emerged to say, “My client is an Orange County resident. I challenge your jurisdiction.”

“She was apprehended in Temple City during an attempted transaction. Our Temple precinct has proper jurisdiction,” came the reply.

The lawyer, of course, already knew this. He was simply fishing for any advantage, no matter how slight. “You’re patrol officers; apprehending suspects isn’t your duty.”

“We are police officers. It is our duty to crack down on all crime, no exceptions.”

“I request to review the footage from your body cameras.”

He was searching for any procedural misstep—if he found one, he could invoke the ‘fruit of the poisonous tree’ doctrine and have the evidence excluded, potentially getting his client off.

An officer brought out a laptop and let him review the footage. The operation had been by the book: badges shown, identities made clear, warnings given, no property damage or injuries, no excessive force.

Failing to find any flaws, the lawyer returned to confer with Zhang again, then came out to say, “My client, Ms. Yue Zhang, denies all charges. She was not selling drugs—she was simply taking her children to the restroom. The marijuana in her car was merely a coincidence.”

The defense ignored the facts and tried to refute the charges, but how should we respond?

Deputy Chief Robin remained unflustered. “We found a medical marijuana ID card in the white Tesla registered to the suspect, Yue Zhang. Our verification confirmed the card belongs to her. Regulations on medical marijuana are strict regarding quantity. The amount in her vehicle far exceeded the legal limit. Moreover, her car contained a large number of marijuana products, which are not included under the medical marijuana card’s permitted categories.”

The lawyer nodded. “That only proves my client possessed a bit more than the allowed amount and some products. It does not prove she was selling. Can you link her to the so-called ‘Night Angel’ identity?”

This lawyer was no amateur. When Ao Xi and his colleagues arrested Zhang, they hadn’t caught her mid-transaction—they hadn’t caught her ‘red-handed.’ The lawyer was trying to help Zhang escape the drug-dealing charge.

“You didn’t arrest her in the act of making a sale, so I refuse to accept the charge!” he was essentially arguing.

But the police had anticipated this. They had seen it all before. Robin replied, “We can absolutely prove it. We obtained search warrants for the suspect’s phone and residence and lawfully examined her phone’s contents. On multiple apps, she used the nickname ‘Night Angel’—including Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, Telegram, and others. The registered phone number on these accounts belongs to Yue Zhang, with a longstanding record of top-ups in her name. It is clear that ‘Night Angel’ and Yue Zhang are the same person.

“Our officers contacted ‘Night Angel’—that is, Yue Zhang—via Snapchat. At the agreed time and place, at the agreed price, to exchange the agreed amount of marijuana. This constitutes illegal drug trafficking, even if she wasn’t caught in the act of handing over money for goods.”

The lawyer rolled his eyes. He hadn’t expected a small precinct to be so well prepared. He’d underestimated Temple City station, assuming patrol officers there were only good for issuing parking tickets.

He thought for a moment, then said, “That only proves my client attempted a single, unsuccessful transaction. And as I understand, the amount was just one-eighth of an ounce. My client should only face a minor fine.”

Now it was Robin’s turn to sneer. “You’re mistaken. According to the information retrieved from her phone, the ‘Night Angel’ account exchanged over five thousand messages with more than four hundred individuals via Snapchat, all discussing marijuana sales, negotiating prices and drop-offs.

“Our investigation uncovered the identities and details of several buyers. Just in the past month, she completed illegal transactions with several individuals, including: an eighteen-year-old girl who paid fifty dollars for a blueberry-flavored vape pod; an eighteen-year-old Snapchat user who arranged to meet ‘Night Angel’ outside an elementary school to buy marijuana; a nineteen-year-old girl who bought a vape pen and canister from ‘Night Angel’ near another elementary school; an eighteen-year-old girl who bought edible marijuana brownies from her; and a twenty-year-old man who bought marijuana and Pink Whitney liquor for ninety dollars.

“These are only the cases we’ve already confirmed. If necessary, we can investigate each message and identify every single buyer.”

The lawyer cursed his client inwardly. What a fool—after every deal, she’d left the messages on her phone for the police to find! If he hadn’t already been paid, he’d have walked out then and there.

But it wasn’t entirely Zhang’s own stupidity. Marijuana sales were all about repeat business—customers came back for more. She’d turned off the auto-delete feature so she’d recognize returning buyers. Otherwise, she’d have to go through the entire introduction process each time, which would be too much trouble.

After a moment’s silence, the lawyer looked up and asked, “What is it you want, officer? This woman is a bit of a fool—she’s not worth all this trouble. What do you really want?”

Robin smiled. “Let’s talk.”