the sandbox.”
“Pinned to the sand then.”
“Huh?”
“I like specificity, Officer Glenn, understood?”
The cop looked at him with unsure eyes, which is exactly what he wanted. Shake these young ones up early and they might make decent witnesses later on. Some, of course, were lousy through and through, like birches with tree rot. You couldn’t do much but cut them off and try to minimize the damage in court.
Glenn cleared his throat. “I think I put it in my report that he was in the sandbox.”
“Then that’s what you testify to, right?”
“Yeah.” Showing a little attitude.
“Now it says here, Officer Glenn”—Colby drew out the name the way a disappointed parent would—“that the suspect was ‘belligerent.’ You know what that word means?”
Glenn looked at him like he was nuts. “Of course.”
“What then?”
“You know, belligerent. Yelling and stuff like that.”
“Curse words?”
“Yeah, I think.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, curse words.”
Colby lifted the report to the officer’s face. “Where exactly do you say that?”
Glenn looked at the pages. His attitude began to melt. As planned.
“It’s not in there,” Colby said, “and if you get on the stand and say anything like that, you’re going to get hosed by the defense. You know who Lindy Field is?”
Glenn shook his head.
“Defense lawyer. She used to be good.”
“Used to be?”
“She may be again. She has a thing against me.”
“What thing?”
“Never mind. But I’m not gonna be on the stand, you are, and if you give her a hole she’ll try to rip it into a door, through which she will stick her foot. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Stick to the report.”
“Read it again. And again. I want you to know it cold.”
“Sure.”
There was something in Glenn’s acquiescence Colby did not like. A smirk maybe, a little power play. Like he was doing Colby a favor just by showing up in the office. Like he had better things to do out on the street.
Hesitation started a gentle gnaw on the back of Colby’s mind. Jaws of doubt quietly chewing, the sort of reaction he experienced from time to time with cops who played it fast and loose.
Usually he gave the cops the benefit of the doubt, just to stop the gnawing, but this time his instinct seemed hungrier than usual.
“One more thing, Glenn. You know there were several wits who gave statements to homicide.”
“Of course.”
“Including a couple of the guys who had DiCinni down in the sand.”
“Yeah.” He said it in a way that sounded like So what?
“Neither one of them came close to describing the kid as belligerent.”
Wider eyes now on the cop. “So they didn’t. You know civilians aren’t trained.”
“Yeah, but one of them, what’s the guy’s name”—he consulted his notes—“Crawford. Crawford said the kid had a stunned look in his eyes, sort of ‘freaky’ he said it was. Said the kid didn’t say anything.”
“Come on, Leon—”
“You can call me Mr. Colby.”
“Sir, you cannot take those statements seriously. All sorts of things were happening. I know what I saw, what I reported, what other people said to me about seeing the kid firing the rifle. It’s all there, that’s all you need, isn’t it?”
For once Colby agreed with Glenn.“Yeah, Glenn, from you that’s all I need.”
2.
Mona sat ramrod straight on the sofa, staring at the TV news and a video of the lawyer defending the killer. Walking into court for the arraignment.
Brad was eating his dinner—microwaved macaroni and cheese, which he made himself—on a TV tray in front of the recliner.
“Maybe we shouldn’t watch the news anymore,” he said.
“She said he isn’t competent! How can they let her say that?”
“Lawyers represent their clients.”
“It stinks. She needs to be stopped.” Mona wasn’t eating tonight.
Skipping meals was getting habitual.
“Mona, let’s just turn it off, huh?”
Maybe he wanted an answer
“Pinned to the sand then.”
“Huh?”
“I like specificity, Officer Glenn, understood?”
The cop looked at him with unsure eyes, which is exactly what he wanted. Shake these young ones up early and they might make decent witnesses later on. Some, of course, were lousy through and through, like birches with tree rot. You couldn’t do much but cut them off and try to minimize the damage in court.
Glenn cleared his throat. “I think I put it in my report that he was in the sandbox.”
“Then that’s what you testify to, right?”
“Yeah.” Showing a little attitude.
“Now it says here, Officer Glenn”—Colby drew out the name the way a disappointed parent would—“that the suspect was ‘belligerent.’ You know what that word means?”
Glenn looked at him like he was nuts. “Of course.”
“What then?”
“You know, belligerent. Yelling and stuff like that.”
“Curse words?”
“Yeah, I think.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, curse words.”
Colby lifted the report to the officer’s face. “Where exactly do you say that?”
Glenn looked at the pages. His attitude began to melt. As planned.
“It’s not in there,” Colby said, “and if you get on the stand and say anything like that, you’re going to get hosed by the defense. You know who Lindy Field is?”
Glenn shook his head.
“Defense lawyer. She used to be good.”
“Used to be?”
“She may be again. She has a thing against me.”
“What thing?”
“Never mind. But I’m not gonna be on the stand, you are, and if you give her a hole she’ll try to rip it into a door, through which she will stick her foot. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Stick to the report.”
“Read it again. And again. I want you to know it cold.”
“Sure.”
There was something in Glenn’s acquiescence Colby did not like. A smirk maybe, a little power play. Like he was doing Colby a favor just by showing up in the office. Like he had better things to do out on the street.
Hesitation started a gentle gnaw on the back of Colby’s mind. Jaws of doubt quietly chewing, the sort of reaction he experienced from time to time with cops who played it fast and loose.
Usually he gave the cops the benefit of the doubt, just to stop the gnawing, but this time his instinct seemed hungrier than usual.
“One more thing, Glenn. You know there were several wits who gave statements to homicide.”
“Of course.”
“Including a couple of the guys who had DiCinni down in the sand.”
“Yeah.” He said it in a way that sounded like So what?
“Neither one of them came close to describing the kid as belligerent.”
Wider eyes now on the cop. “So they didn’t. You know civilians aren’t trained.”
“Yeah, but one of them, what’s the guy’s name”—he consulted his notes—“Crawford. Crawford said the kid had a stunned look in his eyes, sort of ‘freaky’ he said it was. Said the kid didn’t say anything.”
“Come on, Leon—”
“You can call me Mr. Colby.”
“Sir, you cannot take those statements seriously. All sorts of things were happening. I know what I saw, what I reported, what other people said to me about seeing the kid firing the rifle. It’s all there, that’s all you need, isn’t it?”
For once Colby agreed with Glenn.“Yeah, Glenn, from you that’s all I need.”
2.
Mona sat ramrod straight on the sofa, staring at the TV news and a video of the lawyer defending the killer. Walking into court for the arraignment.
Brad was eating his dinner—microwaved macaroni and cheese, which he made himself—on a TV tray in front of the recliner.
“Maybe we shouldn’t watch the news anymore,” he said.
“She said he isn’t competent! How can they let her say that?”
“Lawyers represent their clients.”
“It stinks. She needs to be stopped.” Mona wasn’t eating tonight.
Skipping meals was getting habitual.
“Mona, let’s just turn it off, huh?”
Maybe he wanted an answer
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