lifetime S*xual Predator Caught M*lesting A 15 Year Old

The metallic click of handcuffs echoes through the concrete hallway. Officers push a suspect down on the hot asphalt as sirens wail in the background.

“Hey, I got contact!” an officer shouts, his voice cut through with adrenaline. “You get cornered! Get on the ground right now! Get on the ground!”

The man struggles briefly before yielding to the weight of multiple officers. “Hey, I got it. I got it. I got it,” another officer says, securing the scene. “All right, be secure. Go around the block.”

The suspect tries to glance over his shoulder. An officer immediately steps into his line of sight, blocking his view. “Don’t walk away, bro,” the officer warns. “You got anything on your pockets you need to let us know?”

“No, sir,” the suspect replies, his tone flat. He stares straight ahead into the flashing blue lights.

“Anybody else up there?” the officer asks, pointing toward the residential building behind them.

“Uh-uh,” the man mutters, shaking his head slowly.

“Double lock it,” the lead officer instructs. He turns back to the suspect. “You got anything on you you need to put in the back?”

The suspect says nothing. He simply lowers his head as they guide him into the rear of the patrol vehicle.

Earlier that morning, a young girl walked toward her school bus stop. The neighborhood was quiet, shrouded in early dawn shadows.

Suddenly, a man stepped out from the darkness. Raymond De Jesus grabbed the child, overpowering her instantly.

He dragged her away from the sidewalk, executing a violent assault before fleeing into the neighborhood. He left the young victim behind in total shock.

When emergency calls came in, officers flooded the area, securing the crime scene and gathering physical evidence. They tracked the suspect across town to a residential home.

Officers surrounded the property, but Raymond refused to surrender. Instead, he climbed into the dark attic above the living space, hoping to hide until the perimeter cleared.

Police deployed tactical measures, forcing him out of the crawlspace. They arrested him on the spot and brought him directly to the interrogation room.

Inside the interrogation room, the air is cold and quiet. Bright fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting harsh shadows across the table.

Detective Miller opens a manila folder, laying out a series of photographs and evidence reports. Raymond sits opposite him, wearing a faded blue shirt and dark shorts.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” Raymond begins, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t even know.”

Detective Miller slides a single photograph across the table. It shows Raymond posing outdoors, looking directly at the camera.

“Where was that picture taken?” Miller asks, watching Raymond’s eyes closely.

“At a friend’s house,” Raymond replies without hesitation.

“Who took it?” Miller continues.

“My friend,” Raymond says, shifting his weight.

“Using what?”

“A phone.”

“A phone?” Miller leans in slightly. “How’d you get it?”

Raymond frowns, crossing his arms. “How I got it? Yeah. Because it was my phone at the time. It was your phone at the time.”

“What phone was that?” Miller asks. “Cuz earlier you told me you never had a phone. You’ve never had a phone. So, like let’s be straight up with you.”

Raymond shakes his head quickly. “I had a phone, but I never had a number.”

“Okay, what phone was that?” Miller asks, writing a quick note on his pad.

“I had a Corolla,” Raymond says.

“A Corolla?” Miller looks up, confused.

“Um, I mean it’s one of them T-Mobile phones that you buy,” Raymond clarifies. “Minutes phone. Yeah.”

“What was the number associated to it with the minutes?” Miller asks.

“Well, at that time I had TextNow,” Raymond explains. “You had TextNow? Mhm. I could just pick any number. You could just be whatever number you wanted. Any number.”

“How do you register that phone?” Miller asks, looking for inconsistencies.

“Like I said, sir, I could just go to the store, buy it, and I could just download TextNow,” Raymond says, waving his hand. “With Wi-Fi, and I could just go down to any number though.”

“What’s the last number you remember?” Miller asks.

Raymond pauses, searching his memory. “It was 727-935-3729.”

Miller checks his file. “You never had a 239 number?”

“No,” Raymond insists.

“Sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Raymond says firmly.

“When was the last time you saw that phone?” Miller asks, leaning back.

“If I still believe I still got that damn phone,” Raymond replies.

“You still got it? You still use it?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me what it looks like?” Miller asks.

“Black and red,” Raymond says immediately.

“And what type of phone is it?” Miller asks. “I know you told me it’s like a prepaid text cell phone, but what type of brand is it?”

“Three cameras,” Raymond notes, gesturing with his fingers.

“Is it an Apple? Is it an LG? Is it a Motorola?”

“Motorola, that’s what I meant to say,” Raymond interrupts.

“What color is the actual phone?” Miller asks. “You told me the case was black and red. What color is the actual phone?”

Raymond shrugs. “Black.”

“So when was the last time you saw the phone?” Miller repeats. “My phone? I still got that phone.”

“Yeah, but when was the last time you saw it?”

“Until y’all came and got me,” Raymond says flatly.

“Okay,” Miller says, nodding slowly. “When was the last time you used it? Or you had a number on it? Or that you paid for minutes?”

“I don’t pay for minutes, sir,” Raymond says, cutting him off. “You said you have to like register… for minutes. So how does it work? It with Wi-Fi. Through Wi-Fi.”

“All right,” Miller says. “When was the last time you actually used the number? Through Wi-Fi.”

“Yeah,” Raymond nods. “Last night.”

“Last night?” Miller asks. “Who’d you call?”

“I called a friend,” Raymond says softly.

“You called a friend,” Miller echoes. “What friend was that?”

Raymond looks down at his hands. “Can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell me? Mhm.” Miller pauses. “All right. Why can’t you tell me? You don’t want to or you just can’t?”

“Cost this… this whole relationship right here,” Raymond says, gesturing between them.

Detective Miller tapping his pen against the wooden table, breaking the silence.

“Okay,” Miller says. “So what’s this all about today then? Do you have any idea?”

“No,” Raymond says, staring at the wall.

“You don’t know?” Miller asks. “What did you do last night?”

Raymond sighs deeply. “Rolled out, got high.”

“What do you use? What do you normally use?”

“Meth,” Raymond answers bluntly. “Meth. Yeah.”

“And then what did you do this morning?” Miller asks.

“This morning?” Raymond repeats. “I was just coming out of work.”

“Where did you go to?”

“I went to my house,” Raymond says. “You went to your house? Huh?”

“Do you have a car?” Miller asks.

“No,” Raymond replies.

“So how do you get around?”

“On a bike,” Raymond says. “On a bike. My friend Bobby.”

“What’s his number?” Miller asks quickly.

“Don’t have a number,” Raymond claims. “And also Tammy.”

“Do you have a number for any of them?” Miller asks, leaning forward.

“Uh, they don’t have a number,” Raymond says. “I just go over there most of the time. Once I get out of work, go over there, sit down, talk to her.”

“Where is she?” Miller asks. “Your house?”

“She’s… No, she’s at her house cuz I went to go grab her brother,” Raymond stammers. “So that was like around like about close to like 3:00, 2:00 around there, but between 3:00 to 4:00.”

“In the morning?” Miller clarifies.

“Yeah,” Raymond nods.

“And you left at 4:00?”

“No, I left like about quarter to quarter to 4,” Raymond corrects himself.

“Then where did you go?” Miller asks.

“I went towards Palm Beach, straight to my drug man,” Raymond says calmly.

“Where’s that at?” Miller asks.

“Up the road,” Raymond gestures vaguely.

Miller shakes his head. “I’m not here for your drug issues.”

“Then what are we here for?” Raymond asks, looking genuinely confused.

“And we’re going to get to it now,” Miller says, setting his pen down.

Raymond keeps talking. “I went straight to Circle K. I went and got a coffee and I started heading back because I know that RK was going to close at 5. I started heading back.”

“Heading back home?” Miller asks.

“Yeah, I started heading back home,” Raymond confirms.

“Did you stop anywhere?”

“No,” Raymond answers.

“Were you on your bike at this time?” Miller asks.

“Yeah,” Raymond nods.

“Okay,” Miller says. “You always on your bike?”

“Yeah, I’m always on your bike,” Raymond agrees.

“Remember what you were wearing?” Miller asks, looking Raymond up and down.

“Yeah, this,” Raymond points to his outfit. “You were wearing these shorts? Wearing a T-shirt? Blue.”

“You were wearing a blue T-shirt?” Miller asks. “Yeah. Like what type of shirt was it? Light or dark?”

“Light blue,” Raymond says.

“And what type of shirt was it? Like T-shirt, crew neck type of thing?”

“Like a regular shirt,” Raymond says quietly.

“What shoes were you wearing?” Miller asks.

“I was wearing these shoes,” Raymond indicates his sneakers.

“And you had your phone at the time?” Miller asks.

“Yeah, cuz I was listening to the music,” Raymond says.

“What were you listening to music on?”

“On YouTube,” Raymond answers.

“Did you have it playing on anything else?” Miller asks.

“No,” Raymond says.

“And you don’t remember what time you got to the Circle K, right?” Miller asks.

“So had to be like 5,” Raymond estimates. “Had to be close to 5? No, it was like 5. No, no, it was 5 cuz he opened the door.”

Miller turns back to the photograph on the table. “So I kind of want to get back to this picture. Who else would have this picture?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Raymond says, shaking his head. “I like I said, that picture I got that picture basically based on my Facebook, basically on my Cash App. I know I don’t give like about three to four pictures to females.”

“All right, yeah,” Miller says. “How do you think I got that picture?”

“I don’t know,” Raymond replies.

“You don’t know?” Miller presses. “You can’t think of any way that I would have gotten that picture?”

Raymond stays silent, staring at the table.

Miller leans closer. “You hang out at Channer Hall Park?”

Raymond looks up, frowning. “What the hell is that?”

“Channer Hall Park,” Miller repeats. “You know where Channer Hall Park is? The basketball?”

“Yeah,” Raymond says slowly.

“Where the basketball court is, where the playground is,” Miller describes. “You saw your dope man this morning, then you went to Circle K, and then circled back, and then right before going home, did you stop at Channer Hall Park to get high?”

Miller adds, “I just want to make sure I understand what you’re saying, right?”

“No, you said what now?” Raymond interrupts. “No, I’m not saying…”

“I came… I came from the store and I went back to Channer Hall?” Raymond asks defensively.

“I’m asking,” Miller says smoothly. “I’m asking if you came from Circle K today.”

“No, I went straight to… I went from my friend house all the way to to Channer Hall, went met my dope man,” Raymond says, adjusting his position. “Got it. Got high, and I went to the Circle K. That’s what I’m… That’s what I want to make sure. That’s why I ask. You see?”

Raymond snaps, “Yeah, I ain’t got time to mess with you man, but can we get down to what what this is about?”

“Well, why would your phone be at Chandler Hall Park?” Miller asks directly.

Raymond blinks. “Maybe I dropped it. I don’t know.”

“What else happened at Chandler Hall Park today?” Miller asks.

“What… What do you mean?” Raymond stammers. “Why would your phone be at Chandler Hall Park? What do you mean?”

“Are you familiar with Chandler Hall Park, where where you meet your dope man?” Miller asks.

“Yeah,” Raymond nods.

“I’m not asking who he is. I don’t care,” Miller says dismissively. “Where did you meet him? Playground?”

“No,” Raymond says.

“Basketball court?” Miller asks.

“In the pavilions,” Raymond clarifies.

“At one of the pavilions?” Miller notes. “Did you have your phone on you at this time?”

Raymond pauses, tapping his chin. “At that time, you know what? No.”

“No, you didn’t have your phone on you at the time?” Miller confirms.

“No, cuz I was getting high,” Raymond explains.

“So, where was your phone?” Miller asks.

“I don’t even know, because I had two phones that I use,” Raymond reveals.

“So, what is the other phone that you use?” Miller asks, narrowing his eyes.

“The same thing,” Raymond says.

“Two of them with black and red cases?” Miller asks.

“Yes,” Raymond confirms.

“So, which one did you have on you?” Miller asks.

“Both of them,” Raymond claims.

“So, why would one of your phones be at Chandler Hall Park?” Miller presses hard.

Raymond rubs his forehead. “You know what? By the time I got back, I did… was missing one.”

“You were missing one?” Miller asks.

“Yeah,” Raymond says. “By the time that… that I just realized that I just know, because I was high. And somebody did… cuz I ain’t listen to my… to my song no more. But, what the hell, I’m high.”

“Yeah,” Miller says neutrally. “You’re just trying to enjoy it, yeah.”

“I’m just trying to enjoy it,” Raymond says, expanding his arms. “I don’t give a… You know, you know how many money and and… that I get stolen out of my pocket cuz you’re not paying attention?”

“Yeah,” Miller nods quietly.

“Especially if you’re getting high, yeah,” Raymond continues. “Like stuff happens. I love to get high. I ain’t going… I ain’t going to lie to you.”

“I appreciate you being straight up,” Miller says.

“When I’m mad, or when I’m stressed, that’s what I go do,” Raymond admits. “I know that’s not the right thing. I know that’s not, you know, the perfect stuff, but hey, I’m sorry. You know what I’m saying? This is my life. This is what I chose.”

Detective Miller writes another note on his pad before looking back up at Raymond.

“What else went on there?” Miller asks. “What else did you do there?”

“Just got high,” Raymond says plainly. “Did you see any of anybody else? Anybody that you knew? Anybody that you recognized?”

“Oh, there was like people that I get high with,” Raymond says.

“Like who?” Miller asks.

“I can’t tell you their names, but people that I get high with,” Raymond insists.

“What else did you do there?” Miller asks again.

“We started leaving because people started arriving to get to the park,” Raymond explains. “So, we didn’t want to get caught cuz, you know… Yeah, it was already sunset was just about to come.”

“Do you ever carry any weapons ever on you?” Miller asks suddenly. “Do you have a gun permit or anything?”

“No, sir,” Raymond says immediately.

“Well, we know Palm Beach can be a little rough,” Miller says calmly. “Yeah. Do you ever carry like a little…”

“I carry my gun once in a while, but, you know, I’m nervous on me,” Raymond interrupts.

“You never carry your gun?” Miller clarifies. “Do you carry like anything else? Brass knuckles?”

“No,” Raymond says.

“Knife?” Miller asks.

“Knife? No,” Raymond shakes his head.

“Never carry a knife?” Miller asks.

“No,” Raymond says.

“2 by 4?” Miller lists.

“No,” Raymond repeats.

“Brick?”

“No,” Raymond says again.

“Something?” Miller asks. “For what?”

“Palm Beach, bro,” Miller says. “Yeah. Of course I was smoking weed.”

“Did you have your gun on you this morning?” Miller asks sharply.

“Yeah,” Raymond answers without thinking.

“What type of gun do you have?” Miller asks.

“I got a Glock 45,” Raymond says proudly.

“Black?” Miller asks.

“All black,” Raymond specifies. “Okay. Cool. With a freaking 30-round clip.”

“Nice,” Miller says softly. “Damn, you carry that thing with a 30-round clip or not?”

“Goddamn right,” Raymond grins briefly.

“Damn,” Miller says. “And I got an AR.”

“Where do you keep those things at?” Miller asks.

“All right there in front of my damn bed where you soon you come in,” Raymond reveals.

“At your house?” Miller confirms.

“Mhm,” Raymond grunts.

“So, who else did you see at the park?” Miller asks, steering the conversation back.

“Nobody,” Raymond says.

“Obviously, I’m not here over you smoking dope with your with your friends at the park,” Miller says, throwing his hands up slightly.

“What are we trying to get at with this?” Raymond demands, leaning across the table. “You know that. Come on. You’re a smart guy.”

“No, I don’t,” Raymond says, his defensive tone returning.

“Did you have sex with anybody at the park?” Miller asks directly.

Raymond jolts back in his chair. “Hell no.”

“No?” Miller asks calmly.

“No,” Raymond says, shaking his head aggressively. “I got people I could go have sex with, but I don’t have sex with the park.”

“People have sex at the park all the time,” Miller says mildly.

“No, sir,” Raymond insists rapidly. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Now I’m getting the picture of this stuff. Hold up.”

Raymond points an accusing finger at the detective. “If y’all trying to plan the case of whatever happened this morning or this afternoon, whatever, that’s not me.”

“What do you mean?” Miller asks softly.

“It was not me,” Raymond insists.

“What happened?” Miller asks.

“I don’t know,” Raymond fumes. “Y’all talking about a phone being missing, that my phone that y’all don’t found, and something about having sex. Hold up. I was too busy getting high. That’s why I shoot up. I’m high. I’m high as hell 24/7.”

Raymond stands up slightly before sitting back down under Miller’s firm gaze. “So, I’m on my bike. I’m listening to music, you know? But at the time when I’m getting high, I go to the basketball court and I don’t hear my… my music no more. But what the hell, I’m not listening to my music, you know?”

“It’s cuz you didn’t have your earbuds in?” Miller asks.

“Yeah, I didn’t have my earbuds in because they got stolen,” Raymond says.

“Your… Your earbuds got stolen, too?” Miller asks.

“No, my phone,” Raymond corrects.

“Oh, your phone. Okay,” Miller nods.

“Yeah,” Raymond says. “But at that time, I’m not paying attention. I’m not paying attention. So, what we trying to get at with this because your partner over here said something about, you know… I don’t know nothing. I think you knew.”

“Every contact that goes in your phone, you know who it is?” Raymond challenges. “At this case, then I ain’t got nothing to talk about.”

“You don’t want to talk anymore?” Miller asks quietly.

“Then we ain’t got to talk no more then,” Raymond says, crossing his arms tightly. “If y’all ain’t going to be straight up and I’m being honest… Hold up. Hold up. If I’m being honest with you and you trying to play in the case, then I’m not on that because I ain’t did nothing on Shauna Shauna Hall.”

Raymond adds, “I ain’t did nothing but got high. I know I got high. Trust me. I know I got high. I’m not saying I never never never never never had sex in that park.”

Detective Miller taps the file folder on the table again, refocusing Raymond’s attention.

“Okay, listen,” Miller says calmly. “So, any contact that would be in your phone, you put them there, correct? Cuz I mean, no one else has your phone. It’s your phone.”

“Correct,” Raymond agrees grudgingly.

“So, if I ask you who’s… What’s Tammy’s number? You could pull it up and show me,” Miller says.

“Yes,” Raymond replies.

“Or if I said, ‘Who’s Tammy?’ you would know who she is, right?” Miller asks.

“Yes,” Raymond nods.

“Okay,” Miller says, pausing for emphasis. “So, if I said, ‘In your phone, who’s Mexican girl?'”

Raymond shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Oh, man. I got so many damn people on that phone.”

“Well, think a minute,” Miller suggests. “Think about it.”

“Yeah, man,” Raymond says, looking away. “Like I said, I got way too much people on contact on that phone. That’s like my friend.”

“Who is she?” Miller asks. “Do you know her first name or she just goes by…”

“That’s one of my friends,” Raymond interrupts.

“Who? Mexican girl?” Miller asks.

“Mhm,” Raymond grunts.

“Where does she live at?” Miller questions.

“She live like up the road from me,” Raymond says.

“What type of friend is she?” Miller asks.

“Dope girl,” Raymond answers simply.

“How old is she?” Miller asks.

“She’s old enough,” Raymond claims.

“What’s old enough? I’m asking,” Miller says.

“36,” Raymond offers.

Miller leans over the table, staring straight into Raymond’s eyes. “Just tell me straight up, man. Just tell me straight up. What are we getting at with this? Because I don’t even know what the hell y’all talking about.”

Miller takes a deep breath. “What I want to know is why somebody saying that you forced them to have sex with them.”

Raymond blinks in disbelief. “Did I force them?”

“Yeah,” Miller says.

“I ain’t forced nobody,” Raymond insists vehemently.

“So, did you have consensual sex with somebody?” Miller asks.

“Hell no,” Raymond says, shaking his head furiously. “I ain’t had none in almost in 2 weeks.”

“Do you know what the word consensual means?” Miller asks.

“No,” Raymond admits.

“Okay,” Miller explains softly. “You don’t know what the word consensual means? Consensual means somebody like that wanted to do something. Like you didn’t force them to. It’s something that you two mutually wanted. That’s consensual. Not consensually means the person didn’t want to and you forced them to.”

Raymond listens, his jaw tight. “Oh. You understand what we’re saying now?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” Raymond nods rapidly.

“Cuz this morning we met with Mexican girl and she told us that you forced her to have sex with you,” Miller reveals calmly.

“A Mexican girl?” Raymond echoes.

“Yeah. Mexican girl,” Miller repeats. “I mean, that’s what she was in your phone. I don’t know her name.”

“What you mean in my phone?” Raymond asks defensively. “You just told me you have Mexican girl saved on your phone.”

Raymond raises his voice. “Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. What you mean I forced Mexican girl on my phone to have sex with me?”

“Did you?” Miller asks quietly.

“No,” Raymond says forcefully.

“Was it consensual?” Miller asks. “Cuz here’s the thing. Do you know how DNA works? Do you have any idea how DNA works?”

“No,” Raymond mutters.

“Everything we touch, we normally leave DNA behind,” Miller explains, gesturing with his hands. “You know what DNA is, right? DNA is what like pinpoints you to you. So, like when you touch things, you leave things behind that you don’t see, but that they’re actually left behind. Do you get what I’m saying? Do we understand that concept?”

Miller leans in closer. “When we do all our laboratory stuff, all our evidence collecting, is your DNA going to come back inside of this person who you have saved as Mexican girl?”

Raymond sits back hard in his chair, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “Okay. Then do what y’all got to do.”

Detective Miller does not break eye contact with Raymond.

“I’m asking you,” Miller says firmly. “I’m giving you a chance to defend yourself right now.”

“Listen, I’m defending myself,” Raymond snaps back. “At the end of the day, y’all not going to trust me. Y’all not going to believe me. Let’s get real.”

“That’s not…” Miller starts to say.

“You got a daughter,” Raymond interrupts, pointing a finger at the detective. “Y’all got kids. Maybe y’all don’t. Maybe y’all ain’t their parents. I don’t know. I got kids. I got a daughter. I’ll be damned. But I’ll tell you that this, straight up, I ain’t had no sex.”

“So, you didn’t have sex with nobody today?” Miller clarifies.

“Nobody,” Raymond says flatly.

“Okay,” Miller says, nodding slowly. “So, when we complete all the examination…”

“Even do my DNA,” Raymond interjects.

“…when we get done doing everything that we’re doing here,” Miller continues smoothly, “we’re not going to sit here, Raymond. We’re not going to sit here in 2 weeks, and you’re not going to sit here and tell me, ‘Oh, yeah. I forgot I had sex with this girl.'”

“No,” Raymond says aggressively. “Hell no. I’ll tell you straight up.”

“All right,” Miller says. “Well, this is your chance to be straight up with me. In 2 weeks…”

“In 2 weeks, when I get DNA results back or whenever I get DNA results back, cuz it might be quicker than that,” Raymond cuts in, “I don’t want to hear, ‘Oh, man. I forgot to tell you I had sex with this girl.’ No, bro. I want to make sure…”

“This is your chance to tell me,” Miller reiterates.

“I’m going to tell you straight up,” Raymond insists.

“Cuz you may have been high last night,” Miller suggests gently. “You’re not that high right now. Do you understand what we’re saying? We’ve been doing this…”

“I’m a little bit of high,” Raymond admits in a low voice.

“All right,” Miller acknowledges. “We’ve been doing this job long enough where we know that there’s two sides to every story. We know that we got one story on scene from one person. And then we got… So, I just want to know your side of it. Because I… I’ve sat here hundreds of times being told one thing, and then I find out another thing. So, I just want to hear from you.”

“I’m just telling you straight up,” Raymond maintains. “I’m telling you honest I could be. I could tell you straight up if I did or not. I’m not going to force nobody to have sex with me or I’m going to do something stupid.”

“So, was it consensual is what I’m asking you,” Miller repeats patiently. “Did you have consensual sex this morning?”

“What do you… What do you mean?” Raymond looks exasperated. “What the hell is that, man?”

“Consensual, we just explained it to you,” Miller reminds him. “That they wanted to have sex with you. Did you have sex with a willing participant this morning?”

“I didn’t have sex,” Raymond insists, shaking his head repeatedly. “I’m keep telling you. I did not have sex with nobody.”

“When was the last time you had sex?” Miller asks.

“Nobody,” Raymond repeats. “I ain’t had none in 2 weeks.”

“In 2 weeks?” Miller confirms. “All right. So, there’s absolutely zero reason for anybody’s DNA to be on your penis or on any part of your… of your body. Zero reason.”

“Zero reason,” Raymond agrees firmly.

“So, we’re not going to sit here in a couple days or in a couple weeks, and you’re not going to sit here and tell me, ‘Oh, yeah, man. I forgot to tell you I had sex with somebody,'” Miller stresses. “That’s all I… I want to be clear because I don’t want to hear in 2 weeks, ‘Oh, man. Yeah, I did.’ And then I’m going to be like, well, bro, this was your chance to tell me.”

Raymond gestures wildly with his hands. “Look, I ain’t going to mess with you. I don’t need no lawyer. I don’t need no damn public defender or no type. I’m telling you myself. I will cut my own stuff off. I ain’t had no sex with nobody.”

Raymond leans back, scowling. “Okay. Now, you can believe me or not. Oh, what the hell, I’m just a criminal. Nah, throw this stuff straight to the wolves.”

“We haven’t called you a criminal here,” Miller says calmly. “We’ve been pretty…”

“Nah, I’m just saying,” Raymond cuts in. “I’m just saying I know how this stuff works. And then when the stuff go wrong, they won’t clean their ass and be like, damn, the man was telling the truth. Damn, now I feel like a jackass. I think I owe him apology. Then you going to see my real result as… You don’t… I don’t… I don’t want to because you never want to believe me. You always wanted to see me because I… I’m tatted up.”

Raymond raises his arms to show the ink covering his skin. “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Miller tries to say.

“Hold up. Hold up. Hold up,” Raymond talks over him. “You see me tatted up. I’ve been trouble with the law, stuff like that. Y’all just happen to find my phone. Something just happened to to to get whatever the stuff happened to China Hall. Y’all want to blame something… stuff like like like that on me because why? Y’all found my phone? How about the guy who they who stole it?”

Detective Miller leans back in his chair, taking a slow breath before addressing Raymond’s defense.

“You just said you had it on you,” Miller reminds him flatly.

“I had two,” Raymond counters immediately. “I had two phone. One phone got missing by the time I realized. So, where we at now?”

“Where’s the other phone at?” Miller asks.

“At my house,” Raymond answers.

“Where in your house?”

“In my house,” Raymond says, irritated. “Like I said, in my living room.”

“In your living room?” Miller asks. “Yes. You got a single story house?”

“See, that’s it,” Raymond grunts.

“Story?” Miller asks for clarity. “Like one story.”

“One story, there’s no attic or nothing,” Raymond lies, staring Miller in the eye. “There’s no stairs or nothing. No, no, no, no, no.”

Miller raises an eyebrow. “Is there an attic?”

“One house,” Raymond stammers. “There’s an attic.”

“How do you get up to the attic?” Miller asks.

“I don’t,” Raymond claims smoothly.

Miller folds his hands together on the table. “So, what were you doing in the attic?”

“Running,” Raymond admits after a brief pause.

“From what?”

“From y’all,” Raymond says plainly.

“From what?” Miller asks again.

“Cuz I had a warrant,” Raymond reveals.

“You do?”

“Yeah, child support,” Raymond says, waving a hand dismissively.

Miller shakes his head in disbelief. “You ran and put yourself in an attic over a child support warrant that you’re going to have to pay anyways?”

Raymond scoffs, “Man, forget that. I ain’t trying to… I had to go to work. I was not trying to go to work today. I was not trying to go to jail today.”

“How old is your kid?” Miller asks.

“My kid?” Raymond echoes. “Yeah. He’s in jail right now.”

“How old is he? You just said he was born in like 2023,” Miller notes.

“Yeah,” Raymond nods. “Dude, I got nine kids.”

“Right. Okay, the one that you have tattoos on,” Miller points to Raymond’s chest. “The one that you have tattoos for.”

“This little guy right here lives with his mom still,” Raymond says, pointing to a portrait on his arm.

“All right. How old is he?” Miller asks. “I’m with you. I’m dead serious. Who do you have to pay child support for? Who is the warrant for?”

“Elijah,” Raymond says.

“For… For him?” Miller asks.

“No. Elijah,” Raymond corrects.

“Why wouldn’t you want to pay child support for your son?” Miller asks, pushing deeper.

“Man, it’s a long story,” Raymond grunts.

“Tell me, man. I got time,” Miller offers.

“It’s a long story, man,” Raymond sighs heavily. “You know?”

“You’re going to put yourself in an attic over a child support warrant that you’re going to get…” Miller starts.

“In the attic, too, under a misdemeanor, also,” Raymond interrupts. “That’s ridiculous.”

Raymond continues rambling. “I went also went under a house for another misdemeanor not going to court.”

“That makes no sense, man,” Miller says, frowning. “I feel like it’s a rougher time to be in the attic than to just go to jail and then post your bond and get out.”

“Out there, too,” Raymond mutters.

“That’s where you keep all your dope?” Miller asks suddenly.

“No,” Raymond answers instantly.

“You just said it,” Miller points out.

“Yeah, that’s where I basically keep my products at,” Raymond admits.

“Your products?” Miller notes the phrasing. “Does mom work?”

“No,” Raymond says.

“Mom’s home all the time?” Miller asks.

“Yeah,” Raymond nods.

“What car does mom drive?”

“Mom don’t got no car,” Raymond says. “She don’t got a car?”

“Does mom know you get high?” Miller asks.

“Yeah,” Raymond replies.

“Does mom get high?”

“No,” Raymond says.

“Mom probably doesn’t like that you get high, right?” Miller asks gently.

“Exactly,” Raymond agrees.

“How’d you end up coming out of that attic today?” Miller shifts topics back to the arrest. “I’m sorry. How’d you end up coming out of that attic today?”

“Like, what you mean out?” Raymond asks, leaning back.

“Like, how’d you get out?” Miller asks. “Obviously I don’t understand.”

“Like, how’d you get out of that attic when we were there?” Miller rephrases clearly.

Raymond grimaces at the memory. “Oh, stuff! Y’all gassed me up!”

“Okay,” Miller says, keeping his tone measured. “You think it was fair for your mom’s house to get covered in gas over freaking a misdemeanor child support warrant?”

“Uh, probably not, right?” Raymond admits quietly.

“So, why were you actually in the attic, bro?” Miller asks, pressing hard on the contradiction.

“Stuff, I just told y’all,” Raymond snaps defensively. “Y’all was going to bring me down there.”

“I don’t believe that you would get… I don’t believe that you would…” Miller starts.

“No,” Raymond interrupts again. “What does she think’s going on? She don’t even know what the stuff was going on until I heard her saying that come down cuz there was a child support.”

“Did you end up coming down on your own or did they… they had to gas you, right?” Miller asks.

“No. No,” Raymond insists proudly. “Y’all gas all y’all want.”

Detective Miller flips a fresh page in his notepad, steering the questioning back to basic biographical details.

“What’s mom’s first name?” Miller asks.

“Agnes,” Raymond answers without hesitation. “Marisa. Marisa is her middle name and Agnes is her… is her name.”

“What’s her last name?”

“Santiago,” Raymond says. “Santiago?”

“Do you know her number?” Miller asks, pen ready.

“No,” Raymond shakes his head. “You don’t know mom’s phone number?”

“No,” Raymond says. “That’s like the only phone number I know.”

“When you ride home on your bike, you ride down Palm Beach?” Miller asks, setting up a spatial timeline.

“Yeah, but…” Raymond starts.

“Do you normally ride on the right side or on the left side?” Miller cuts in.

“I ride both sides,” Raymond says casually.

“But which side did you ride this morning?” Miller insists.

“I ride… I was a little bit on the left hand side,” Raymond explains, tracing a path on the tabletop with his finger. “Hall side? I was… I was a little bit on the left hand side and then I crossed over cuz I know I was going to meet my friend there.”

“What time did you get home?” Miller asks.

Raymond groans slightly. “I don’t know. I can’t tell you. I don’t know. I know it was still first thing in the morning. It was still… like what I’m talking about like still dark. Still dark. Sun wasn’t up yet.”

“Yeah,” Raymond continues. “It was still like you could say it was like still like going on like maybe…”

“Well, you said you left… You said you left the park cuz kids were coming or whatever,” Miller points out the immediate logical flaw. “So the…”

“Yeah, so…” Raymond stammers.

“You saw kids at the park?” Miller asks pointedly.

“I seen people coming,” Raymond quickly pivots.

“Like who? Like adults or… or kids?” Miller asks.

“Adults,” Raymond specifies. “I see adults with kids coming.”

“Was it… And then you said it was dark still?” Miller asks, forcing the contradiction into the open.

“It was still dark at the time,” Raymond maintains stubbornness. “Did you get high by the… at the basketball court. What were you doing by the slide?”

“I was not by the slide,” Raymond insists sharply. “I was at the basketball court.”

“So that’s where you lost your phone probably,” Miller suggests logically.

“No, I was in the pavilion,” Raymond corrects himself again. “Then I went to the basketball court cuz I left everything right there. I went to the basketball court.”

“Okay,” Miller says smoothly. “So somebody probably took it at the pavilion. Were you wearing a shirt when you were riding bike home today?”

“Yeah,” Raymond answers.

“Were you wearing a hat?” Miller asks.

“No,” Raymond says.

“Did you have a backpack?”

“No,” Raymond shakes his head. “You didn’t have a backpack? No. No, I’m just asking you. It’s a serious question. It’s not like a trick question. It’s just a question.”

“So we’re going to stick to our guns that you didn’t have sex with anybody this morning,” Miller states firmly, reviewing his notes. “Nobody at the park.”

“Nobody at the park,” Raymond repeats tightly.

“You didn’t have sex with Mexican girl?” Miller checks.

“No Mexican girl,” Raymond says firmly.

“But you don’t know her name. Just Mexican girl,” Miller observes. “That’s how I…”

“What makes you think she’s 30-something?” Miller asks next. “What you mean?”

“That’s the friend that I know Mexican girl under,” Raymond explains. “She’s like about 36 something.”

“How long have you known her for?” Miller asks.

“Not too long,” Raymond claims. “I’d say about almost a year.”

“Describe her to… What does she look like?” Miller asks.

“She’s black,” Raymond says. “Black hair? What color skin?”

“About 5’1, 5’5,” Raymond estimates height. “Heavy set, average, thin?”

“No, she’s skinny,” Raymond clarifies. “She’s skinny? Yeah, lesbian.”

“Lesbian?” Miller repeats, raising his eyebrows.

“Mhm, drives a car,” Raymond adds.

“What type of car does she drive?” Miller asks.

“A Ford,” Raymond answers. “Ford? What color is the Ford? Red.”

“And you don’t know her number?” Miller asks again.

“If I got her as Mexican girl, yeah, that’s her,” Raymond says, shifting in his seat.

“Yeah, but do you know her number off the top of your head? You don’t know it?” Miller presses.

“No,” Raymond mutters.

“Do you know where she lives?” Miller asks.

“Yeah,” Raymond nods.

“What’s the address?”

“I don’t know the address,” Raymond admits. “I just know how to get there. You know how to get there? All right.”

“So, tell me how to get there,” Miller commands softly. “A Mexican girl? Yeah, the Mexican girl.”

Raymond stops and shakes his head stubbornly. “You’re not going to tell me? No, cuz that’s… that’s one of my dope girls.”

“What’s her first name?” Miller asks again. “Who?”

“Mexican girl,” Miller reminds him.

“Yeah. They call her Evalia,” Raymond finally gives a name. “Evalia? I don’t put nobody’s real name on that phone because half of them is dope girls.”

“So, it’s safe to say that that is your phone,” Miller concludes logically.

Raymond freezes, realizing he just trapped himself in his own web of statements. “Well, I lost the phone today in Chula Vista.”

Detective Miller rests his arms on the table, watching Raymond struggle to hold his narrative together.

“When you get high, do you know… do you remember everything that you do?” Miller asks softly. “Who? I’m asking you.”

“No,” Raymond admits quietly. “You forget some stuff?”

“Dude, you high as hell,” Raymond mutters, leaning away. “I don’t even smoke.”

“I know,” Miller says neutrally. “I don’t smoke. I don’t smoke. I don’t…”

“Y’all… Y’all work for the law,” Raymond says defensively. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“I don’t know what it’s like,” Miller says smoothly.

“So, you know, it’s just like a… like a blind man, you know what I’m saying?” Raymond gestures wildly into the air. “A blind man that don’t know he’s going, basically. That’s how it feels.”

“So, could you…” Miller starts to ask. “…in the zone.”

“…you have had sex and you didn’t know?” Miller finishes his thought cleanly.

Raymond slams both hands on the table, leaning forward aggressively. “Sir! I’m asking! I’m telling you the truth. Hell no!”

He stands halfway up, shouting across the small room. “This conversation is over because I know what y’all trying to get at! I ain’t had no sex or forced myself with nobody! I ain’t had sex almost in 2 weeks! I know this!”

“Who’s the last person you text with?” Miller asks without flinching. “I’m asking you.”

“A person!” Raymond yells back. “Who? A dirty ass person, right now! Hey, y’all want to stick with y’all story? Yeah. With this Mexican girl?”

Raymond waves his arms in frustration. “The only one if you want to stick with your story, that’s on you, buddy! That’s what it is! This conversation is over! You don’t want to talk to us anymore!”

“Y’all go ahead and send me to Lee County with the charge, whatever!” Raymond shouts, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. “I’ll see y’all in court!”

Miller stays completely motionless in his chair. “So, you don’t want to talk to us anymore.”

He looks toward the second officer standing near the doorway. “Sit… Sit down. Sit down. We’ll walk you out.”

Raymond drops back into his chair, breathing heavily. “We done here. Can I tell you this? We’re done cuz I know what I’m telling you. I’m not bullshitting you. I ain’t got time. I would tell you straight up if I had sex with somebody.”

“But then if you say…” Raymond continues rapidly, “No, no, no, no, no, no. Hold up. Hold up. You say you’re going to find what? DNA? All right. Well, go ahead. I stick to my guns. Y’all stick to y’all guns. Let’s see. I’ll see y’all in court.”

Miller turns to face him directly one last time. “So, you don’t want to continue talking to us?”

“This is done. This is done,” Raymond repeats, crossing his arms tight across his chest.

“You have to say yes or no,” Miller instructs firmly, ensuring the legal record is completely clear. “Yes or no.”

Raymond stares straight ahead, refusing to look at either detective. “No. I ain’t… I ain’t going to talk no more.”

With those words, Raymond De Jesus officially terminated his police interview.

Despite his desperate attempt to shift blame, invent stolen phones, and fabricate wild stories about a child support warrant, physical evidence and forensic analysis told a very different story.

His DNA matched the evidence recovered from the crime scene, proving his presence and involvement without a shadow of a doubt.

The legal system moved swiftly to hold him accountable for the brutal attack on a young child walking to her school bus.

At the conclusion of his trial, Raymond De Jesus was convicted and sentenced to 25 years in state prison without the possibility of early release.