What did the Victim Have in His Pocket?

Detective Carlos Herrara had survived liver cancer three years ago, and was in remission. Dying didn’t cross his mind. He felt like the only death he was concerned with was not his own but the man shot dead in Wilmington, Delaware. The Daily Delaware covered the case in December 2020.

“I’m too busy to die,” Detective Herrara said. “I want to get these vermin off the streets who killed this family man.”

The family man was from Newark and had found himself on Chestnut Street. Blood stains on the pavement indicated how much Varner Jerkins had lost before being carted to Delawhole Hospital where he later died.

“This case is related to another shooting on this same street. We’re still not sure about either one of them.” He rattled off a number to call for those who may have any information.

“The time this vic may have had in Wilmington could have been a few days or just this day when he was found at 2:30 a.m. We’ll keep up with the investigation,” he declared.

Neighbors stood around in their pajamas and talked amongst one another. The lights of the cruisers illuminated this otherwise dark corner of the city. Detective Herrara drove over to the hospital to observe Jerkins' body.

Medical Examiner Dr. Theresa Heath had begun to remove and classify the contents of the victim’s pockets.

“We found this,” she said. “It’s a portrait of Mr. Jerkins with his wife and two daughters.”

The detective stared at the photograph.

“This is why we’ve got to nab whoever committed this murder. I have had some breaks here and there with the previous case, but this one will mean even more because this was an unarmed family man.”

Politics didn’t normally infiltrate the ranks of the detectives, but he felt compelled to issue coded messages regarding the state of his city. Herrara always kept it professional. He never disclosed his political party or discussed his views on or off the clock.

“I’ve been saying supporting a specific candidate is something personal in this occupation. You have to keep it to yourself, I know. At the same time the politicians are the ones who make or break what we can and cannot do in these cases.”

Herrara brought his fingers to his forehead. He wiped hair from his brow.

“I wasn’t planning on another shooting. Honestly, I didn’t think there would be two shooting deaths within just a few days of each other. It’s cold out here. You’d think people would be indoors away from firearms and close to the heat.”

After seeing the picture found on Jerkins’ body, Herrara’s demeanor seemed to shift even more. He drove a little faster than the speed limit and noticed it.

“Pardon me. I’m not one of those cops that speed with the sirens and lights engaged while not in pursuit. I promise,” he snickered. Then the stoic look returned to his face.

“I want to see both cases solved. It’s such a shame this city keeps having shootings and deaths. We keep going on about how we’re going to clean up the streets. If I could take a sweeper and get rid of the crime, I’d do it in a second.”

Herrara kept a portrait of his own family, his wife, son and daughter on the dashboard of his vehicle.

“Every day I get up and prepare myself to be wrong. I’m slow to say we crack cases and clean the bad guys off of the streets. It feels like we’re going to maybe have new possibilities with the president who lives not too far from here. I didn’t vote for him. I don’t want to go into details, but I want to see a change out here.”