clearly weren't talking about dime bags of shwag weed. I willed myself to think past the buzz of worry that was trying to hijack my concentration.
"Okay," Myra said. "So you went over to Devin's apartment because
he owed you money, and Latrice answered the door. Do you remember the
conversation you two had?"
"I ask her if Devin there, she say no; I ask does she know where
he is, she say no; I ask if he left the dead presidents for me, she say no. I'm
like, 'That motherfucker thinks I'm playing with him.' Then I was out."
"Do you recall whether those were your exact words? 'Motherfucker
thinks I'm playing with him'?"
"I wasn't carrying no tape recorder."
"I understand that," Myra said, making a show of patience. "But I
still need to know if you think that's exactly what you said."
"Best I can remember, I say what I say I say," Lorenzo said. "What
she say I say?"
"According to the police, she said that you threatened Devin," Myra said evenly.
"I threaten him to his own sister?" Lorenzo said incredulously.
"What I do that for? Why am I going to threaten him to Latrice, then cap him a
few hours later?"
"Is it possible that you said something that Latrice took as more
threatening?"
"She can say 'motherfucker thinks I'm playing with him' be a
threat if she want to. Ain't nothin' I can do about that."
"You don't think you might have said something more threatening?"
"I didn't say no kind of threat," Lorenzo said, for the first time looking angry.
"Dude was my boy, and dude owed me money. Can't be my boy and can't pay me back
neither if he's dead. So I got me two good reasons not to cap him."
OUTSIDE THE jail, I found myself squinting in the sudden daylight. We'd talked to Lorenzo for around two hours, circling back to his upbringing, his relationship with Devin, whether there was anything else he could tell us about Yolanda or Latrice, his alibi for that night. Even though I'd basically just sat and listened the whole time, taking notes, I felt exhausted, like my day should be done already.
It took one look at Myra to tell she felt the same. She'd lit a cigarette as soon as we walked outside, taking a deep drag. I'd expected her to have built up a shell by now, not to show fatigue or discouragement, but perhaps that had been unrealistic.
"Is it just me, or was that a mixed blessing?" I said.
"It's never good when the client admits that the victim owed him
money on a drug debt and that he'd gone looking for said victim the night he was
shot. The alibi based on a dealer doesn't exactly help us."
"I guess the good news is, if he was going to lie to us he'd
presumably have come up with something better than that."
Myra looked over at me, grinning. "You have a point," she said.
"Not that it helps. We can't present a preposterous defense and then ask the
jury to acquit based on how implausible our defense was."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "Have you ever tried it?"
"Why don't you test it out on a misdemeanor and get back to me?"
"Five grand sounds like a fuck of a lot of pot."
"You'd be surprised," Myra said. "Weed's become a high-end
business in New York. First-rate hydro can retail out in the neighborhood of
five hundred or more an ounce. Wouldn't shock me if five grand wholesale was
just for a pound."
"I knew I was in the wrong line of work," I said. "What about that
Devin was sleeping with the witness to his getting shot? That didn't turn up in
any of the police reports."
"Like I said to our guy, I think it cuts both ways," Myra said.
"It maybe gives her a reason to lie, which helps, but it might make her a lot
more convincing on the stand. She's not some passerby who's not really paying
attention; she's watching her boyfriend get shot."
We had crossed through the parking lot and reached Myra's car. "So what do you think?" I asked as I waited for Myra to unlock my door.
"What do I think about what?" Myra asked.
"You think he did it?"
Myra looked over at me from across the top of her
"Okay," Myra said. "So you went over to Devin's apartment because
he owed you money, and Latrice answered the door. Do you remember the
conversation you two had?"
"I ask her if Devin there, she say no; I ask does she know where
he is, she say no; I ask if he left the dead presidents for me, she say no. I'm
like, 'That motherfucker thinks I'm playing with him.' Then I was out."
"Do you recall whether those were your exact words? 'Motherfucker
thinks I'm playing with him'?"
"I wasn't carrying no tape recorder."
"I understand that," Myra said, making a show of patience. "But I
still need to know if you think that's exactly what you said."
"Best I can remember, I say what I say I say," Lorenzo said. "What
she say I say?"
"According to the police, she said that you threatened Devin," Myra said evenly.
"I threaten him to his own sister?" Lorenzo said incredulously.
"What I do that for? Why am I going to threaten him to Latrice, then cap him a
few hours later?"
"Is it possible that you said something that Latrice took as more
threatening?"
"She can say 'motherfucker thinks I'm playing with him' be a
threat if she want to. Ain't nothin' I can do about that."
"You don't think you might have said something more threatening?"
"I didn't say no kind of threat," Lorenzo said, for the first time looking angry.
"Dude was my boy, and dude owed me money. Can't be my boy and can't pay me back
neither if he's dead. So I got me two good reasons not to cap him."
OUTSIDE THE jail, I found myself squinting in the sudden daylight. We'd talked to Lorenzo for around two hours, circling back to his upbringing, his relationship with Devin, whether there was anything else he could tell us about Yolanda or Latrice, his alibi for that night. Even though I'd basically just sat and listened the whole time, taking notes, I felt exhausted, like my day should be done already.
It took one look at Myra to tell she felt the same. She'd lit a cigarette as soon as we walked outside, taking a deep drag. I'd expected her to have built up a shell by now, not to show fatigue or discouragement, but perhaps that had been unrealistic.
"Is it just me, or was that a mixed blessing?" I said.
"It's never good when the client admits that the victim owed him
money on a drug debt and that he'd gone looking for said victim the night he was
shot. The alibi based on a dealer doesn't exactly help us."
"I guess the good news is, if he was going to lie to us he'd
presumably have come up with something better than that."
Myra looked over at me, grinning. "You have a point," she said.
"Not that it helps. We can't present a preposterous defense and then ask the
jury to acquit based on how implausible our defense was."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "Have you ever tried it?"
"Why don't you test it out on a misdemeanor and get back to me?"
"Five grand sounds like a fuck of a lot of pot."
"You'd be surprised," Myra said. "Weed's become a high-end
business in New York. First-rate hydro can retail out in the neighborhood of
five hundred or more an ounce. Wouldn't shock me if five grand wholesale was
just for a pound."
"I knew I was in the wrong line of work," I said. "What about that
Devin was sleeping with the witness to his getting shot? That didn't turn up in
any of the police reports."
"Like I said to our guy, I think it cuts both ways," Myra said.
"It maybe gives her a reason to lie, which helps, but it might make her a lot
more convincing on the stand. She's not some passerby who's not really paying
attention; she's watching her boyfriend get shot."
We had crossed through the parking lot and reached Myra's car. "So what do you think?" I asked as I waited for Myra to unlock my door.
"What do I think about what?" Myra asked.
"You think he did it?"
Myra looked over at me from across the top of her
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