True Crime Stories: Res Ipsa Loquitor

Res Ipsa Loquitor is a latin phrase, common in the law, meaning "the thing speaks for itself," which this police officer's deposition does.

Q. What was your assignment back in May of last year?
A. I was a sergeant assigned at that time to the 14th district.
Q. During the course of your duties did you have an opportunity to respond to an address where a homicide had occurred?
A. Yes.
Q. Can you tell me how it was that you became involved in this particular case?
A. I had a prior accident where there was damage to my police vehicle earlier that night where the gate—the gate at the south station closed on my vehicle. So I was at the station for approximately two hours. So I was in there speaking with the lieutenant. She was handling my paperwork reference the vehicle damage from the city gate. Once I completed that paperwork and all that, she asked me to go home because she knew I was pissed because I take care of my equipment.
At this point I told her—I said no. I am here. Something made me come to work tonight. This happened for a reason, full moon.
I proceeded to pull out of the gate at the station. I made a right-hand turn to go south.
Q. With the damaged vehicle?
A. Yeah.
Q. What happened next?
A. As I made the right-hand, I’d say maybe I got approximately 150 feet, all of a sudden, I see a Hispanic male running towards my car.
I didn’t know if it was the typical neighborhood drunk that got thrown out of the bar or just got robbed or whatever the case was, but he seemed extremely frantic. As he was approaching me he was only screaming and yelling in Spanish.
I stopped my vehicle. I got out. I told him, “Slow down, calm down,” so I could kind of—
Q. Do you speak Spanish?
A. No, I don’t.
Q. So, what did you do?
A. I was trying to gather what he was saying. I was able to ascertain in my mind, from what he was telling me, that either there was some children that might have drowned in the tub, or something to do with a bathroom, maybe a possible suicide. I am gathering this from my broken Spanish and just trying to figure out what he was saying because he was extremely frantic.
He was pointing in the direction of the address where this incident occurred.
Q. How far is that from where the police station is?
A. A few hundred feet, approximately a few hundred feet.
So he was motioning to me, you know, reference something with the kids and water, something to do with that in the apartment.
I go racing over with him.
Q. Did you drive or walk?
A. I drove my vehicle directly to the front.
As I pulled my vehicle up, I believe I started to advise on the air that I didn’t know what I had, a possible suicide or—I don’t remember the exact thing. I had no idea what I had. This guy is frantic.
As I am approaching it, the apartment door was ajar.
Q. Is this on the ground floor?
A. Yes. It’s all one floor apartments.
The door was ajar as I approached. The guy who had flagged me down, he kept pointing in there. He appeared to be terrified. He didn’t know what was going on.
As I swing the door open a little further, the apartment was completely pitch black.
Q. No lights?
A. No lights whatsoever on in the apartment, and the floor of the apartment was flooded. When I say flooded, I would say anywhere from one to two inches of water. That really raised my suspicion that I might have exigent type circumstances in the apartment.
I went into high gear very quickly because my whole thinking was I might have had children that were drowning. Now I am thinking, “Holy shit.” Now, obviously, there is some type of foul play.
I presume you had a flashlight?
A. Yes.
I scanned in the apartment to get a little further for my safety or whatever, because I thought I was going in there dealing with children that were maybe in the tub.
Once I enter the threshold to the door I drew my weapon. The whole apartment appeared to be disheveled. It had a very nasty smell, like a musty type of a smell.
Q. What room are you in when you enter?
A. The living room.
Q. There’s nobody in the living room?
A. There’s nobody in the living room. Past the living room is a hallway and I see a room off the hallway, I see a closed door.
As I got to the closed door, based on my training, knowledge and experience, I said “Let me scream out,” or something, see if I get a response before I go in, gain entry to this door. Maybe the kids are in there. If I end up smashing the door, knock them over, injure them.
Q. Had backup arrived yet?
A. No. I am still completely by myself.
I ended up screaming out very loudly: “Open the door! Open the door!”
I probably said it cursing. “Open the”—actually, I remember. “Open the fucking door.”
I said that maybe once or twice initially. I waited a second or two.
Q. Did you hear anything?
A. Nothing, no movement at all.
The second time I really got very loud, extremely assertive saying the same thing. “Open the fucking door!” “Open the fucking God damn door right now!”
I heard a little bit of shuffling inside of the bathroom. As I said that, within a very short span, one or two seconds, the door became ajar. As soon as the door opened up, I see the mother, the defendant—
Q. Ms. Alvera?
A. She is standing there holding a toddler; I’d say a three to five-year-old. I think she had her clutched, holding her in her left arm, like holding her like with her buttocks sitting on her arm, and the daughter had no shirt on. I noticed the mother was kind of like lethargic looking. She looked like she was totally in another—
Q. Place?
A. I don’t know where she was. Yeah, another place.
Once I realized it was her and the little girl, I holstered my gun.
I see the child, the three to five-year-old. She has got all kinds of—the way to describe it is pricks, which is like the—
Q. Little puncture wounds?

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