By Terrence McCoy
By Scott Fishman
By Deirdra Funcheon
By Allie Conti
By New Times Staff
By Ryan Pfeffer
By Deirdra Funcheon
By Kyle Swenson
"And she has testified to some sort of sexual relationship with the alleged CI?"
"Was contact monitored by police?" Holmes asked.
"Was the CI monitored as far as phone conversations? Yes. And once the investigation started, we initiated full-time monitoring of the CI. We instructed the confidential informant not to have any contact of any sort without our control..."
"I think what is a little concerning for this court is the allegation of sexual contact between her and the confidential informant," Holmes said.
"No," Murray replied. "I'm unaware of any prior relationship and any relationship during the investigation. Right after this hearing we had here, I confronted the confidential informant, and the CI adamantly denied any sexual involvement with Ms. Curry."
In the months and years after Curry's arrest, Mackey -- who continued to work as an informant for the Hollywood police on as many as 20 cases -- proved to be an ambitious ladies' man with a flair for roughing up his women. On August 2, 2000, less than two weeks after Curry's arrest, North Miami Beach Police reported to Manors Court Apartments at 13890 NE Third Ct. after reports of a verbal dispute.
Mackey and his girlfriend (who is not named in the report) were arguing in the parking lot. Mackey allegedly grabbed the woman's hair and took her purse, which contained $3,000 in cash and some credit cards, then fled in his car. Five days later, Mackey surrendered to police and was charged with strong-arm robbery. "I didn't hit her," Mackey told the officers. "I just took her purse." He bonded out the next day, finally pleading guilty on January 25, 2002. Adjudication was withheld and the sentence suspended after Mackey agreed to enter a domestic-violence intervention program.
The program didn't help much. On June 23, 2003, one month after having his driver's license suspended following a third DUI offense, Mackey allegedly beat up 36-year-old Christine Delarese Stubbs-Bodie, whom he had married using the name on his Bahamian papers, Lorenzo Bodie. After striking Stubbs-Bodie at an apartment at 2525 N. Ocean Dr. in Hollywood, Mackey took her cell phone.
At first, Stubbs-Bodie didn't want to file a police report because her husband "knew some police officers in the city of Hollywood and she was afraid that she might be retaliated against," according to a statement she gave Hollywood police on November 3, 2003. Stubbs-Bodie declined to comment when reached by New Times.
The following May, Aventura Police Officer Emilio Perez saw a blue Ford Expedition with an Illinois tag weaving in traffic on Biscayne Boulevard, nearly sideswiping a car. Perez stopped the SUV. The black man in the driver's seat told the officer that he didn't have his license. His name, he said, was Lorenzo Lee Bodie. "I never had a driver's license in the United States, only in the Bahamas," he told the officer. Perez went back to his cruiser to verify the information. The Expedition checked out fine, apparently on loan from a friend in Illinois, but the officer discovered that Lorenzo Lee Bodie was an alias for Lorenzo Leon Mackey. His driver's license was suspended.
The officer informed Mackey, who was standing near the police cruiser, that he was under arrest. "No!" he shouted. Mackey turned and walked toward his vehicle, then began to run. He started to climb into the driver's seat. Perez fired his Taser at Mackey, sending an electrical current through the man's body. Mackey fell to the ground.
Aventura police later learned that Mackey had an active warrant related to the 2002 guilty plea for robbing his girlfriend. Because the charge was a felony, the federal government wanted to send him back to the Bahamas and ordered him into Immigration and Naturalization Service custody in Bradenton to await deportation.
On September 1, 2004, Mackey sent a handwritten letter to Miami-Dade County Judge Scott J. Silverman asking that he vacate the previous guilty plea. "I have my kids and they all look to me for everything," Mackey wrote. "I am a good man. I don't do anything to brake [sic] the law. Sometime, thing [sic] happen and we don't have know [sic] control of it... My kids are on the line."
Silverman denied the motion. The federal government ruled to deport Mackey. He now sits in a holding cell in Bradenton, having appealed his deportation.
It's 11 a.m. on a chilly morning in late December. Valarie Curry, wearing blue jeans and a matching jeans top that buttons up the middle, sits anxiously in front of a conference table at her attorney's office in downtown Fort Lauderdale. Across the table is her husband, Whitney Curry, sitting silent and stone-faced. The couple reconciled in October 2000, one month before Curry was sent to prison.
Whitney and the kids visited weekly when she was incarcerated in Broward and Miami-Dade. But when the state moved her nearly 300 miles north to Lowell Correctional Institute in Ocala, the visits became more sporadic. Curry spent three years in "hell," as she calls it, cut off from her husband and children.
But now Curry is a free woman again. On May 26, 2004, the Fourth District Court of Appeals overturned her conviction, ruling that Hollywood police entrapped her. "In sum, there was no crime without the CI's prodding and improper conduct, which rose to the level of egregious," the appeals court ruled.