Illegal Procedure
Jim Igoe

PART I
MURDER



Because the actual time of death has never been determined, it is not known whether the date of the homicide was February 28th, 1989, or the following day, March 1st. It is known that the act of killing began on the last day in February, a crisp, bright Tuesday, that held the promise of spring, the most favored of seasons in the San Joaquin Valley. Weather forecasts called for Stockton to get another in the series of storms that rolled across northern California from the Gulf of Alaska that winter, but the front would not reach the city until the next afternoon.

The warm sun began pushing the temperature from the early morning thirties to the high
fifties, on a day that would remind transplants of why they had come to the valley and natives of
why they had stayed. The tule had taken a holiday. A thick ground fog that often plagued
motorists, and closed airports in the winter months, the tule, when it settled in, made it look like a giant had pulled a blanket of wet grey gauze over long stretches of the valley. Tricky and treacherous, the fog has caused some deadly pileups, both on Interstate 5, the super highway that runs the length of the state from the Mexican border to Oregon, and Old Highway 99, the main
north-south artery until I-5's completion. There have been horrendous crashes and numerous
fatalities caused by motorists run amok in the murky mist.

Stockton's good weather was the last thing on James Mackey's mind when the 24 year-old black man left his condominium on Swain Road in northwest Stockton shortly after 8:30 that morning, heading for the Coldwell Banker office at 1776 W. March Lane, where he had worked since the previous summer. Jerry Abbott, manager of Coldwell's Stockton office, had hired the glib and articulate Mackey, because the former University of the Pacific football player looked like a natural salesman. His boss foresaw a bright career for him, and Mackey, never short of self-esteem, completely agreed with Abbott's assessment.

However, things did not work out quite the way the two men expected, as Mackey's star had been slow to rise. That first year he earned approximately $6,000 in commissions, and the prospects in 1989 didn't look much better. Although he never admitted it publicly and outwardly maintained a prosperous profile, he had serious financial problems. He'd already spent what remained of his wife's inheritance in little more than a year and a half of marriage. The fact that things weren't going fast enough caused Mackey to make a decision in late January 1989. He had made up his mind to give things a push. His plans to jump-start a flagging career involved murder.

That same morning, Larry Carnegie, a 38 year old real estate agent, helped his wife
Karen get their three young daughters ready for the day. The Carnegies lived on Shippee Lane in
Morada, Stockton's choicest suburb. Tucked away in the northeast corner of the city, Morada
was once nothing but walnut groves and fruit orchards. Locals claim the world's best cherries
grow in Morada. By the late 80's, however, much of the area had been subdivided and sumptuous
homes built on spacious lots. The proud claim of residents was that Morada had no sidewalks,
only driveways.

The Carnegie house was modest in comparison to some of the more opulent spreads in the neighborhood, but it satisfied their needs and was their location of choice. There was enough space for three active young ones, and the backyard pool was a source of fun and merriment
during the summer months, when it provided relief from Stockton's searing heat. Larry Carnegie met Karen Shrewsberry at a real estate seminar in Livermore, California in 1979, and started dating the slim, attractive brunette shortly after. Their marriage inApril 1981, produced the three gorgeous little girls that Carnegie, a doting father, adored. Andrea, five, and Renee, three, went to nursery school. The youngest, Lauren, a little over a year old, spent her days with a babysitter. That arrangement left the Carnegies free to work at Riverboat Realty, the agency on W. March Lane in Stockton, which the couple had acquired in 1987.

The Carnegies were making a go of it with Riverboat. The 32 year old Karen proved to be excellent in residential real estate sales. She had charm, personality, and drive. She also had patience, an essential ingredient for dealing with home buyers, and the numerous details that went with making a sale.

Larry Carnegie didn't mind reversing roles with his wife when that gave Karen's sales
career a push. He would willingly take care of the kids and even do housework while she was out
selling houses. He was not threatened by people who said Karen was doing most of the work for
the firm. As Karen herself put it, "Larry had such a large ego and so much self-confidence that it didn't bother him. He was perfectly willing to step back, take care of things, and let me work as much as I wanted. He was the one behind the scenes doing all the household work and office stuff, so that I didn't have to be bothered with it."

As he did most mornings, Larry helped with breakfast, then tidied up while Karen got the
three little ones ready. Before leaving for the office, he helped her bundle the kids into her station wagon. He couldn't know when he waved goodbye, that he was doing it for the last time.