Murders on Death Row

Murders on Death Row

By

Michael Ramos

Disclaimer

The author has made every effort to ensure the accuracy of the information presented in this book; however, errors and omissions may occur. Readers are advised to use their own discretion and judgment while interpreting the content.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2024 by Michael Ramos

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Dedication

To all victims of crime and their family members.

Acknowledgment

I would like to thank my family and friends and all those involved in the justice system for your support. A special thanks to Heidi Mackumul for her great typing and formatting skills and to my daughter-in-law, Allyson Ramos for her editing.

Table Of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgment

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

PART II MIAMI

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

PART III THE STORM

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

PART IV 2006 THE PUZZLE

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

PART V FLORENCE, ITALY 2006

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

PART VI THE END

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Epilogue

Part I

Chapter 1

2004

As Deputy District Attorneys, we take an oath to uphold the Constitution of the United States and, more importantly, conduct ourselves in the highest ethical manner as decisions we make will impact individuals for the rest of their lives. Prosecuting an innocent person is something we never want to do.

After Christine shocked me and the local community and beyond, for that matter, I went to work to release the convicted individual I tried for murder. I never thought in my life that a nobody murder case would actually result in a victim who was alive all along. That only happens in the movies. Even though Christine Stone had been missing for thirty years, she was alive and well, living a great life in Italy.

I immediately petitioned the Court to have the convicted inmate, Clyde Baker, released from prison. The detectives on the case were just as shocked, but they understood. We speculated that the bones of the person found in the silos of Okieville may have been Clyde Baker’s brother, Jessie. The killer? Mr. Stone, the father of Christine, for bullying and assaulting his daughter, Christine. However, he was now dead, and the cold case was closed.

I did feel bad for the justice system. I was happy for Mrs. Stone, who had not seen her daughter for decades. I guess we did some good.

While sitting at my desk, there was a knock on my door. Come in. In walked Detective Dean Liter. What’s up? He liked to start his serious conversations with Houston, we have a problem, a quote from NASA’s Apollo 13 crew.

Chapter 2

2004

Detective Liter was wearing his Seattle Seahawks baseball cap as he sat across my desk, knowing I was a Rams fan going back to my childhood and Roman Gabriel.

Tony, a retired teacher and coach, was found murdered. His wife discovered his body in the front yard of their home on their sidewalk with a newspaper in his hand around 6:00 a.m. I wanted you to hear it from me before the press and social media start their reporting. I’m glad you were here early today.

I came into the office at 6:30 a.m. to finish some paperwork regarding our last case. Detective Liter said the homicide team was at the crime scene as we spoke and wanted me to be there as well. Of course, I said, let’s go!

We jumped into Detective Liter’s Ford Crown Vic and raced to the scene in Redlands, California, the same community I lived in. My thoughts and prayers were with my former coach and his family, and I could not stop thinking about our last talk. After my last trial, he asked me at church (both of us being Catholic), if I was ready to be the District Attorney. Coach Greg Rogers was my high school defensive coordinator and was a good man.

When we first arrived, I immediately went to find Mrs. Rogers. As I approached the house, the body was covered up with yellow evidence placards spread all over the front yard. As I lifted the evidence tape surrounding the front yard of their beautiful home and entered the front door, I found Mrs. Rogers sitting in her living room with her only son, Greg Jr.

As she stood sobbing, I gave her a hug and told her how sorry I was. She was still in her robe and pajamas and looked like she had been crying for hours. Detective Sandy Smith from the homicide team had already interviewed her, and my role was only to provide comfort and to let her know we have the best homicide team in the country on the case and, if possible, I would be handling the case, as a major crime unit prosecutor. She said, If possible? My husband said you were the best. He truly had so much respect for you, Anthony.

I left the living room area and met Detective Liter out front. The crime lab was now present and combing the entire home and yard for forensic evidence. I told him I would like to get back to the office as I wanted to brief District Attorney Matthews before the press called. On the ride back, Detective Liter told me it was early in the investigation, but they did know he was shot with a 9mm handgun, and the shooter was pretty advanced, hitting him in the chest and another round to the head. They will determine what round hit first, if possible. Gun residue on the head would indicate a very close shot. That was yet to be determined.

As I was dropped off, Dean Liter said, I guess no golf anytime soon.

I said, It sure doesn’t look like it.

I’ll get back to you, Tony, as soon as we finish up with the crime scene.

Sounds good, as DA Matthews may assign me the case.

Chapter 3

1975

It was the fall of 1975; we were playing Anaheim High School in a pre-season football game at Angel Stadium. I was playing both running back and split side defensive end at 5’7 and 150 pounds soaking wet, but I ran the 40-yard dash in 4.6 seconds and could bench press 250 pounds. Not bad for a skinny little brown boy, my teammates would say. Ha! The team we were playing ran a wishbone offense, and Coach Rogers had prepared us for this rivalry and their offense. Coach Rogers had told me my only job was to hit their quarterback as early as possible when he came my way with the ball. The stands were full and loud for being in this big stadium. I was excited, as were all my teammates. We won the toss and elected to get the ball first. Our quarterback was awesome, but we needed to establish the run game before he could start slinging away. The first play was called, and it was time to go to work. We were in power I, and student body right was called, a sweep by me to the right side. As I got the ball, I had a great block, made a good first move on the linebacker, and gained fourteen yards on the first play of the game. On the next play, quarterback John Couch hit wide receiver Peters on a post pattern for a touchdown. It was a great way to start the game and the season. The game ended up being closer than we liked, but we won 17-14 on a last-minute forty-seven-yard field goal. I’ll always remember Coach Rogers hugging and picking me up, saying I played a great game. On the bus ride home, Elton John’s Yellow Brick Road was playing, and we were all singing Saturday Nights All Right. It was a Saturday game, after all.

The next morning, the headline in the local newspaper was Anthony Garcia had a good game playing both ways, with a picture of Coach Roger’s arm around my back.

My pops said, Great game, boy, but it is time to get to church, and we need to go visit Grandma Garcia after mass. I loved that, as I could already smell the fresh flour tortillas being made with her homemade frijoles and eggs.

Life was good!

Chapter 4

2004

As I sat back in my office, I looked at a framed picture I love. A picture of me, number 87, running with the football against Anaheim High School. It brought back memories of my favorite teacher and coach, Greg Rogers. Who and why would someone take his life? I was determined to find out.

I looked over at my desk phone and saw the message light blinking. As I hit the play button, it was from my good friend, Dave, from the Attorney General’s Office.

Tony, I hope you’re doing well. I’m calling to talk to you about two murders that took place on death row at San Quentin Prison, and both killers are from your County. One is a serial killer, and the other is a cop killer. The Marin County District Attorney says she does not have the resources to file and prosecute the cases, and we certainly do not have the resources. We would like to hire you as a special prosecutor; call me when you can.

My day just got crazier. I then began to research the cases through social media. I know this: they would not be looked at as your typical murder victims; in fact, most would say justice was served.

I found an article in the San Francisco Chronicle. There was not much detail regarding their murder convictions, but I can look them up here in the office. What did stand out was both killers died of potassium chloride, a chemical that stops the heart and is used in the three-drug protocol for death by lethal injection. Well, if the State doesn’t do it, someone else is taking care of business.

Before I did any more research, I decided to call my friend at the Attorney General’s Office back. As I was about to make the call, in walked my boss, DA Matthews.

Anthony, I just got off the phone with the Attorney General, Ann Baker. She was reaching out to me regarding the murders on death row. I’m sure you’ve heard of them. They are looking for a ‘special prosecutor’ to cross-designate as a Deputy A.G. as they do not have the expertise to take on this case. My first thought was you, as your reputation as a trial lawyer is known statewide, and you are a co-chair of the California District Attorneys Association Homicide Committee.

I said I would do it, but I would like to keep the murder of my old high school coach, Mr. Rogers. He agreed. I also had one other request. I wanted to cross-designate Detective Dean Liter as a Department of Justice Special Investigator to help with the case. District Attorney Matthews said he would call the Sheriff. Of course, I hadn’t asked Dean yet, but I know him, and I’m sure he would agree.

I called my buddy at the Attorney General’s Office back and said, You’ll be seeing me soon. He was excited.

I then called Detective Liter. I asked him if he remembered the sand shot he hit out of the fairway bunker for an Eagle. He replied he did. I then told him I had a tougher shot for him. How would he like to work with me on the Death Row murders? He asked if he had a choice. I said, No. He laughed and said he couldn’t wait; plus, he loved hanging out in San Francisco.

Chapter 5

1976

It was a typical spring day, and you could smell the orange blossoms off the hundreds of trees surrounding our community. It was Saturday, and my ex-Marine father had my brothers and me doing our weekly chores, both inside and outside of our home. We flipped a coin on who would edge the front lawn as that was done with an idiot stick. You know, the one with a long stick and a roller with blades on the end. It was not fun, but it sure did the trick, like the lines on a baseball infield. But the best part of the morning was when we were all done, and my dad took us to his local bar down the street in Mentone, where they made these amazing wet burritos—meat, beans, and cheese, covered with a delicious red enchilada sauce. Of course, we had an ice-cold Coke while my father enjoyed a beer to start his afternoon—a great tradition.

Later that day, I had band practice with our garage band, "Mighty