Chapter 7: Coroner’s Report

January 1999

A week later, I received a message on my beeper to give Lou a call. I called him back immediately.

“Malcolm, you have to meet me sometime today. I have something to show you. It’s a copy of the coroner’s report on Cordero.” Lou sounded shaken after he had read it. I raced over to the corner sandwich shop in Little Havana where he asked me to meet him at one o’clock that afternoon. It was a warm, sunny day as we sat at an umbrella table on the sidewalk dining area. Holding up two fingers, he ordered to the waiter, “Dos te frios!” After reading an “appropriated” copy of the report, I felt shaken, too. The coroner who did the autopsy had a great deal of experience determining causes of death, as Miami was no stranger to the act of murder, suicides and that sort.

Lou took the copy back from my hands and started to read it back to me. “The ME stated that Cordero had suffered little in the way of pain, that death was apparently instantaneous, which was different from the original estimate of two minutes or less.” He paused. “Well, the fool didn’t suffer! Isn’t that nice?” His voice was full of sarcasm as he continued to read. “The neck wound was the result of a super quick blow from an incredibly sharp instrument. Oh, mi Dios! His head was almost cut from his shoulders in that if the instrument had been two more inches longer, he would have been decapitated.” Lou dropped the report down to the table, looking me right in the eyes. “So, my friend, how does one commit suicide like that? The fools that would believe that! “Read on Lou! You’re on a roll now!” I said.

“The victim was in a state of profound hypertension, indicating a state of fear or panic. Anyone would know, Malcolm, that someone who is about to die of murder would experience such high blood pressure. These photos showing the blood on the wall at least eight feet away would back this up. There was blood in the hallway outside the cell that had running patterns indicating great pressure had propelled it. His blood chemistry indicated no illegal drugs, or stimulants that would cause the blood pressure to be so high. He was clean.” Lou finished the last sentence somberly. “But the chemistry indicated there was an abnormal amount of adrenaline in the blood just before Cordero died, showing that he was in a “fight or flight” situation. He was scared before he died. That meant he knew he was about to die. And he told us this before he died. He knew ahead of time!”

I felt it was time for my opinion, taking the report from Lou.

“If Cordero were going to commit suicide, would he do it this way so that he would be scared out of his mind prior to the act? I don’t think so. There is no evidence indicating that Cordero could have done this to himself. According to the medical examiner, there was no flesh under his nails. The report stated there was a great deal of salt deposits on the skin. That states that Cordero had been diaphoretic just prior to his death. In other words, our pal Francisco was really in a sweat, scared out of his mind, with his blood pressure on the roof. This accounted for his blood on the ceiling, on the walls, and out in the hallway.”

I looked at the pictures at the crime scene, repeatedly. I thought how awful it would have been to die this way. “Apparently, he knew he was going to die, that they, whoever they might be, were coming for him. Did he know the method of execution? If he did, how could he not be frightened past the point of sanity? If I knew that I was about to die in the method that Cordero was killed, I would have most certainly been irrational beyond reason.”

I gave the report and photos back to Lou. “Lou, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that fact that you have given me so much information regarding this case. I know you trust me not to release any details until you give me the heads up, so I won’t. I’ll keep all this information in my files at home, backed up on a disc, not in my computer at work. That way no one can hack in at work, even if they think I’m holding back. Some people I work with are like that but mostly its competing journalists from other stations.”

Lou was grateful indeed to me, in that he knew I could be trusted, and that all this information was being stored in a safer place that he could devise. At times, I felt that Lou was using me for a kind of insurance policy.

Lou continued to tell me regarding his fears about the corruption within the department. “Remember the incident at my apartment? The mailing of my family’s picture to my address, and the blood on it? If anything should ever happen to me ... Well, hopefully, at least you could tell the story, and bring to justice whoever it is that’s behind the cover-up. Malcolm, I think that as many people as possible should know about the disappearance of evidence, the vandalizing of my condo and the intimidations, they might be reluctant to carry out any threat.”

I interrupted the veteran police officer. “Personally, I don’t think so. People with such an agenda are frightened so easily. They have mechanisms in place for giving plausible deniability. If they feel threatened, they will carry out whatever measures necessary.

I have done some research regarding Colombia and the major known cults known to be in active practice down there. One thing I learned from my research regarding the current situation in Colombia was that I really don’t want to go down there at all. It was dangerous, especially for foreigners, and even more so for Americans. It’s the reigning kidnapping capital of the world. Many people have disappeared down there. You and I don’t want to be part of those statistics.” The reluctance in my voice was obvious.