PART 35 by John Nicholas Iannuzzi Page B

farther.
    â€œThat’s a tough suit you got, Counselor,” the prisoner remarked, smiling.
    â€œThanks.” Sandro continued until he saw Alvarado in a large cell. One of the other prisoners was standing, using the open urinal. He, too, was watching Sandro. Alvarado saw Sandro and walked to the bars.
    â€œGood morning, Counselor,” he said. He smiled.
    â€œMorning,” Sandro whispered, to keep the guards or the other prisoners from overhearing. “I’ve been reading about this case in the newspapers.”
    â€œI read the newspaper, too,” Alvarado whispered.
    â€œWell, then you know what I’m worried about. They say many times that you confessed. Did you confess to this crime?”
    â€œMaybe they say Chaco confess. I confess to nobody. They full of chit. I don’t confess. I wasn’t there.”
    â€œWhat about Hernandez? According to the papers he said you were there.”
    â€œAh,” he waved his hand in dismissal. “The cops hit that son of a bitch, and he’d tolds them his whole life. He said to me, over here, ‘I no tell them, Luis, I no tell,’ but I know he did that. Those cops were at my house so soon as they pick up that punk. He says, “You know, Luis, they beat me for hours. I had to tell them some-sing. I couldn’t think of another colored guy. Forgive me.’ He’s fulla chit. They hit him once to start him talking, then twenty times more to make him shut up.”
    Sandro laughed. A tall, thin prisoner walked over. From the newspaper photographs Sandro recognized him as Ramon Hernandez, Chaco.
    â€œHey, hi, what you think, hanh?” Hernandez asked.
    Sandro looked to Alvarado.
    â€œThis guy is Hernandez,” said Alvarado.
    â€œI want to talk to my client right now,” said Sandro.
    Hernandez didn’t understand. Alvarado spoke to him in Spanish. Hernandez seemed hurt. He walked back into the crowd in the cell.
    â€œDon’t mind him, Counselor. He’s just a dummy,” said Alvarado.
    â€œIs he going to be a witness against us?” asked Sandro.
    â€œI don’t know. I got a book here, you know.” He handed the book to Sandro. It was a copy of the penal laws of the State of New York. “I been readin’. Can you get me a pad of paper? I don’t got money to buy any paper here.”
    â€œWhat’s this for?”
    â€œI want to be able to check on the law, you know. Can he be witness on my case?”
    â€œHe could be. Look, Luis, I went to the house where the cop was killed. It doesn’t look good at all.”
    â€œMr. Luca, you got to believe me. You the only one I got in this whole country who can help me. I didn’t do this thing. Please believe me.”
    Sandro felt himself wavering.
    â€œAnother thing that bothers us is the possibility of fingerprints, Luis. If they have your fingerprints, that’s the end. You know that?”
    â€œI know, but you don’t have to worry about that. They can’t have my prints, I know that. Unless they can put them there themself. I couldn’t put my prints in a place, I wasn’t there.”
    â€œStill, Luis, I have to tell you it looks pretty bad for you. Mr. Bemer and I have been discussing the possibility of your pleading guilty to save you from the electric chair.”
    â€œCop out? I coppin’ out to nothin’. Why you want me to cop to somethin’ I didn’t do?”
    â€œNo one said to plead to something you didn’t do. But if we’re facing a sure conviction—and it looks like it from here—a plea might be best.”
    â€œIf they give me spitting on the streets, I ain’t pleading. I didn’t do it, Mr. Luca. If I do this thing, then I say, maybe, get me a good plea, maybe good time, somesing. I didn’t do this thing. No plea.” He was studying Sandro intently.
    â€œI must have the truth, Luis. You’ll pay, not us, if we build your