Mortgages & Murder – 911


The Tea…

“Oh my God, she finally did it! She finally killed him!” Tryana wasn’t surprised that it happened; she was just surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner.

“Yep, she sure did,” stated Rhoda, as she, Tryana and everyone else on the 12th floor watched Quetta being escorted out of the building in hand cuffs.

There were 4 cops that came and got her. We all knew that someone was going down the moment we saw the police officers exit the elevator on our floor, we just assumed that someone was being arrested for fraud of some kind, like stealing a borrower’s bank information and using it. That is usually the only time that the FEDS or any law enforcement were ever seen in the office building.

When Tryana watched the officers approach Quetta’s desk, she knew then that there was yet another purpose for their visit other than fraud. Quetta was a lot of things, but a thief she was not. Quetta was too scared of jail for that. She knew that even if a person had succeeded in stealing a customer’s personal information; that the paper trail of that fraud would always lead back to the main source.

WFS Lending, had a zero tolerance for abuse of one’s access to personal information. 100% of every fraud case that started at this lending institution was found out, and the perpetrator, prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

“Are you Quetta Jermaine-Tran, ma’am?” Asked a very handsome, dark-skinned police officer. He was at least 6 feet tall with the sexiest set of hazel eyes and he a beautiful soft chocolate complexion.

“Umm…. yes, officer that would be me!” Quetta’s usual cocky, snotty attitude was not evident in her tone. Instead she sounded nervous.

“My name is officer Rightly, and I’m going to have to ask you to please stand up ma’am!”, continued the handsome officer.

“Did I do something wrong? I know I haven’t committed any fraud, I’m sure that’s why y’all are here because that is the only time cops are seen in this building” replied Quetta.

“No ma’am, we are certainly not here on a fraud case; I can assure you of that! Once again Mrs. Jermaine-Tran; I am going to ask you to please stand up!”, demanded officer Rightly, with a look of determination and a tone of authority. As soon as Quetta stood up from her desk chair, the only female officer in the crew pulled out her handcuffs from her waistband and attached them to Quetta’s wrists.

Our manager, Nancy Mathers finally came from behind her cubicle. She had been looking and listening along with everyone else, but she hadn’t said anything up until now.

“Hello. I am Quetta’s manager Nancy Mathers, is everything ok?” Nancy looked just as shocked and surprised at the entire scene as the rest of us were.

“No ma’am. Mrs. Jermaine-Tran here is going to jail!” stated the female officer. She then turned her attention back to Quetta, patting her down and frisking her for weapons.

Officer Rightly stated, “Quetta Jermaine-Tran, you are under arrest for the murder of your husband Choy Tran. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say and do, can and will be used against you….”

Quetta cut the officer off mid spill.

“Murder!? My husband is dead!? Nooooooo!” cried Quetta. The female officer didn’t even flinch. She picked up where officer Rightly left off when he was interrupted and finished reading Quetta her Miranda rights, while at the same time escorting her out of the building.

“OMG! What!? Quetta killed her husband!?” I heard someone whisper.

“Don’t he work for 911?” exclaimed another coworker.

Rhoda and I both locked up our computers and headed for the elevators. We were hoping to catch the tail end of any conversation Quetta may have been having with the police officers. It was 1 pm too, so if anyone asked, we’d tell them we were on lunch.

At the Precinct

Quetta was shoved into the first open interrogation room. Tears flowed like water from a faucet, down her face. The nervous habit of biting her fingernails while rocking back and forth, in full effect.

“Good Afternoon Mrs. Jermaine-Tran, we are detective Graves and detective Torres.”

Two detectives entered the room, the last of which closed the door ever so carefully. Detective Graves appeared to be the leader of the pair. He stood 6’8, his hands cupping a notepad, pen and what appeared to be an audio recorder. His weapon resting comfortably in its holster, barely hidden beneath his suit jacket. He motioned for detective Torres to have a seat caddy corner to Quetta’s left. Graves taking his seat, directly across from Quetta.

“Is my husband really dead? How did he die?” Quetta was all shook up. She wondered if they’d searched her home already.

“I was hoping you could answer that for me, young lady.” Detective Graves smiled, then inched forward in his seat, hands clasped atop the table; the divider separating the civilian from the law.

“Sir I don’t know. I haven’t seen my husband in two days,” she paused.

“Yep. Two whole days.” It was as if she was reliving something or trying to forget something. She was in a daze, though she was fully in tuned to her present surroundings.

“Is that right? Is it typical to go two days without hearing from him?”

“No. But it is typical that he chokes me out whenever he feels like it. Three days ago, was no different. Only difference this time, is that he took a walk to blow off some steam, but he never came back.” Quetta was direct and tearful.

Detective Torres adjusted her seat, and cleared her throat at the same time. Detective Graves stared at Quetta in shock.

“Say what?” Maybe I am misunderstanding, thought Graves.

“You heard me. He does it because he knows that he’ll get away with it, that’s the reason I didn’t call around looking for him.” Quetta was both accusatory and brutally honest.

“What do you mean?” Torres questioned.

“Code blue, protects their fellow man, it’s true. Regardless of where they fall in seniority or rank.” She closed her eyes remembering the time Choy slapped her in front of two of his coworkers, at a restaurant three months ago.

All she did was nod her head, when one of Choy’s coworkers joked that Choy was a ticking time bomb waiting to happen. It wasn’t hard, but the embarrassment stung like he had slapped her with a pistol. His coworkers sat quiet, they said nothing. Neither did Quetta. She knew better. She had to go home with him, so she knew to shut up.

Choy worked as a 911 dispatch operator for the past 10 years, but if one never knew that truth about him, you’d think he was a Commander or Chief, the way he boasted and fabricated his career life.

Both detectives sat back stunned as Quetta unveiled years of verbal, mental and physical abuse at the hands of her husband. His threats to kill her and get away with it because he knew the law, was what kept her compliantly put. She advised them of the multiple police calls to their home for domestic violence, and how the results were always the same; she was asked to leave the home for the night and Choy was never arrested. She explained her attempts at filing restraining orders against her husband, but was denied because Choy was friends with the clerks and judges at the courthouse.

The police department was contacted two weeks prior, by a confidential informant, that Quetta plotted to kill her husband. There was no audio recording, however the CI was a trusted source whose word was the sole and only basis of Quetta’s arrest today. That and the missing person’s report filed by Choy’s mother, in the wee hours this morning.

The detectives couldn’t tell Quetta this, but the clear lack of thorough police work prior to arresting Quetta, could lead to this case being completely thrown out. After all, there was still no physical evidence that Choy was dead. And when the detectives questioned the arresting officers about this, they were told that they were just following orders.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Choy plotted this whole scenario out so that I’d take the fall for a crime I did not commit. I had warned Choy last week that I was going to leave him and expose him to his boss.” The more Quetta thought and spoke, the more she wondered if she wasn’t digging her own grave by what she had told the detectives.

“Do you have proof of this Mrs. Jermaine Tran?”

“It’s all documented. I need my lawyer present before I continue any further with this conversation.” Quetta bowed her head in silence.

“Will do. We will be back with a phone so that you may call your lawyer.” Simultaneously, the detectives got up and exited the room.



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