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“He was operating his boat without lights, which is illegal at night. He also tried to evade the Coast Guard vessel that performed the intercept. Finally, he resides in Biloxi, which is over forty miles away by water and longer if you’re driving.”
“Were drugs found in his boat when he was apprehended?”
“No, but personnel on the Coast Guard vessel saw him throw something overboard while they were pursuing him.”
Hale closed the manila folder and put his notes on top of it. “Based on your years of law enforcement experience, do you believe there is probable cause to support each and every element of each of the offenses alleged in this complaint?”
Hez rose. “Objection, lack of foundation.”
The judge and Hale both looked at Hez in surprise. The rules of evidence didn’t apply at preliminary hearings, so objections were very rare. That actually was the main reason Hez objected—he wanted to disrupt Hale’s rhythm and signal that he didn’t consider this hearing just a routine formality.
When no one spoke immediately, Hez pushed a little more. “All we know is that Mr. Jenkins has been assigned to a task force for five years. We don’t know how many drug-smuggling cases he has handled, let alone maritime cases such as this one. Therefore, no foundation has been laid for him to render what amounts to an expert opinion on the probability that Mr. Morales was engaged in drug smuggling.”
The judge leaned forward. “Overruled, but I’ll take that into account in determining the weight I give the witness’s testimony on this point.” She turned to Jenkins. “You may answer.”
“Yes, I think there’s a fair probability that he committed the charged crimes.”
Hale shot an annoyed look at Hez. “I won’t waste the court’s time by cataloging every drug case Agent Jenkins has handled. Pass the witness.” He picked up his papers and returned to his seat.
Hez stepped up to the lectern. “Agent Jenkins, I’ll cut right to the chase. Mr. Morales is accused of drug smuggling. Where are the drugs?”
Jenkins shrugged. “Probably somewhere on the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico.”
“You’ve had divers looking for them, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And in two weeks of looking, you haven’t found the drugs Mr. Morales allegedly threw overboard, correct?”
“Well, yes—but we’re still looking.”
“That’s a shallow area with good visibility and well-known currents, correct?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a diver.”
Hez decided to take a gamble and ask a question he didn’t know the answer to. “And what did you find in your search?”
The agent shrugged again. “A couple of key chains, a Coke bottle, a bracelet, an old knife, a little statue, and a cooler with no lid.”
“No drugs?”
“No.”
“Why hasn’t the task force been able to find the drugs in two weeks of searching?”
Jenkins opened and closed his mouth twice before answering. “I don’t know.”
“I’d like you to look at exhibit one, the tip received by the task force. It simply refers to a ‘delivery’—or entrega in Spanish. It doesn’t contain any actual reference to drugs, correct?”
“Not an explicit reference, no.”
“And no drugs were found when Mr. Morales and his boat were searched—not even trace amounts, correct?”
“Correct.”
“The only thing in his boat was fishing gear, correct?”
“Yes, but there were no fish and he didn’t have a license.”
