It was almost three hours after the shooting before Ballard was finally interviewed. The session with an FID detective named Kathryn Meloni lasted twenty-six minutes and was largely focused on the tactics Ballard had used during the Kidd arrest and the tactics she had observed being used by the arrest team. Ballard’s defense rep, Teresa Hohman, happened to have been in Ballard’s academy class, where they competed closely in all the physical challenges for top female recruit but always had beers and cheers at the academy club after. It was that bond that had prompted Ballard to ask her to be her rep.
Up until the final minutes of the questioning, Ballard believed she had given no answer that could come back on her or the Special Ops team in terms of mistakes or poor tactics. Then Meloni hit her with a trap question.
“At what point did you hear Lieutenant Gonzalez or anyone else order someone to either watch or guard the front door?” she asked.
Ballard took several seconds to compose her answer. Hohman whispered in her ear that there was no good response, but that she had to answer.
“There was a lot of yelling,” Ballard finally said. “Screaming at Elvin Kidd in the truck. I was concentrating on him and my role in the arrest. So I didn’t hear that particular order when it was given.”
“Are you saying that there was an order and you just didn’t hear it?” Meloni asked. “Or was it that there was no order given?”
Ballard shook her head.
“See, I can’t answer that one way or the other,” she said. “I had a laser focus on what I was doing and needed to be doing. That’s how we’re trained. I followed my training.”
“Going back now to the planning meeting prior to the operation,” Meloni said. “Did you tell Lieutenant Gonzalez that the suspect was married?”
“I did.”
“Did you tell him or members of the team that the wife could be expected to be in the home?”
“I think we all knew, making the arrest so early in the morning, that we could expect her to be on scene. In the house.”
“Thank you, Detective. That’s it for now.”
She reached over to turn the recorder off but then stopped and turned back to Ballard.
“One more thing,” she said. “Do you believe that killing Mrs. Kidd may have saved the lives of officers today?”
This time Ballard didn’t pause.
“Absolutely, yes,” she said. “I mean, we were all wearing vests and those guys had ballistic helmets and so forth, so you can never be sure. But I was standing there in the open in front of the pickup and she could have shot me. Then for a moment she hesitated and got hit herself.”
“If she hesitated, do you think she was not intending to fire her weapon?” Meloni asked.
“No, it wasn’t that. She was going to shoot. I could feel it. But she hesitated because I was between her and her husband — until he took off running, that is. I think she thought that if she shot and missed me, she might hit him. So that’s when she hesitated. Then she got hit and maybe that saved my life.”
“Thank you, Detective Ballard.”
“Sure.”
“If you don’t mind staying in the room, your captain wants to come in and speak to you next.”
“My captain?”
“Captain Olivas. You were working this case for him, correct?”
“Oh, yes, correct. Sorry, I’m still a little shaken up.”
“Understandable. I’ll send him in.”
Ballard was surprised that Olivas was on scene. They were more than an hour away from the city and she hadn’t expected him to be involved in the FID investigation at all. Her mind raced and she began to feel dread at the realization that Olivas must have been informed about the case that had led to Elvin Kidd. He knew what she had done.
“He told me he wanted to speak to you alone,” Hohman said. “Is that okay?”
She and Teresa still met for beers from time to time, even though their paths in the department were quite different. Ballard had previously told Hohman of her history with Olivas.
“Or I can stay,” she said.
“No,” Ballard said. “I’m okay. You can send him in.”
The truth was Ballard didn’t want a witness to what might come out or happen next, even if that witness was her own friend and defense rep.
After Teresa left, Olivas entered the CIV, walked through the outer room and into the Box. He silently took a seat across the table from Ballard. He stared at her for a moment before speaking.
“I know how you did it,” he said.
“Did what?” Ballard said.
“Got my signature on the wiretap warrant.”
Ballard knew there was no use denying the truth. That wasn’t the right move here.
“And?”
“And I’m willing to play along.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve got a year until I’m out. I don’t need another fight with you and, right now, this is another feather in my cap. We took down a murderer, cleared a thirty-year-old case.”
“We?”
“That’ll be how it plays. We both win. You keep your badge, I look good. What’s not to like about that?”
“I guess that woman who got her head blown off might find something not to like.”
“People do stupid things in high-stress situations. Gangbanger’s wife? There will be no blowback on this one. Internally, at least. There will be protests and Black Lives Matter and all of that. But internally she doesn’t matter in this equation. She’s collateral damage. What I’m saying, Ballard, is that I could take you down for this. Take your badge. But I’m not. I’m going to give you credit for this. And you give me credit right back.”
Ballard knew what was happening. The command staff of the department was known to watch out for their own. Olivas was angling for one more promotion before he pulled the pin on his career.
“You want to make deputy chief, don’t you?” she said. “Going out on a DC’s pension, that would be sweet. Add a corporate security job to that and you’ll be rolling in the green, huh? Living on the beach.”
City pensions were based on salary at the time of retirement. There was a long history in the department of promotions within command ranks just prior to retirement — with city taxpayers footing the bill. There was also a history of punitive demotions among rank-and-file members that lowered their pensions and payouts. Ballard suddenly flashed on the legal fight Harry Bosch had engaged in after his retirement. She didn’t know all the details, but she knew the department had tried to fuck him over.
“My business is my business,” Olivas said. “All we need right now is to agree on a course of action.”
“How do I know you won’t try to fuck me over in the end?” Ballard said.
“I thought you would ask that. So this is what we do: once the smoke clears here, we go back to L.A. and hold a press conference — you and me — and we tell the story. That’s your edge. Once it’s public record, it would look bad for me to turn around and do something against you before I leave. Understand?”
Ballard found the idea of being part of a press conference with her oppressor and nemesis revolting.
“I’ll pass on the press conference,” she said. “But I’ll share credit with you and keep my badge. And I don’t need an edge. If you do try to come back on me in any way before you quit, I’ll tell the world about this dirty little deal and you’ll go out as a lieutenant instead of a deputy chief. Understand?”