Paying for College - The Novel Read online

  Chapter 19

  Brothers, here I sit handcuffed to a chair in the interrogation room. I have no idea how long I’ve been here, stuck in this dark, windowless room with three chairs and a table. I could’ve been here for hours or days or decades. After each beating session, the cops would leave me alone for an hour or two or three – let some of the wound heals and some of the bruises fade. I stared at the wall with the see-through panel, and I just smiled and smiled. I refused to let these overpaid security guards push me around. Besides, brothers, I already know. If they had anything on me, they wouldn’t try to coerce a confession out me.

  Two officers burst through the door. One officer looks like a nice guy, like the twin brother of my pastor at my church. The other one looks like he should be locked up in a cage with the wild grizzly bears at the zoo.

  They always started out nice and acted like my best friends, who were trying to help me. Then it turned ugly, when I didn’t give them what they wanted.

  The mean looking officer, “We’ve had a rash of break-ins in our town? Someone broke into Mike’s Garage and stole five thousand dollars. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

  Those words, five thousand dollars, echoed through my mind. Wow brothers, the whole world is brimming with thieves. I knew I stole about two thousand, but the owner of Mike’s Garage stole money from the insurance company. I replied, “I don’t know anything about this?”

  “Where were you on September 22, 2007?”

  I laughed, “How would I know? Where were you on September 10, 2006?”

  “A wise ass, huh.”

  “I don’t have a photographic memory. I don’t carry a calendar around with me, just in case the police arrest and interrogate me and demand to know my whereabouts for every day for the last ten years.”

  “You heard about the breaks-in, didn’t you?”

  “Of course, I’ve heard of it. I do read the newspapers. I even wrote one story for the university newspaper.”

  “Where were you on the night of the burglary?”

  “Probably drinking with my roommate or watching a movie in the dorm or studying in the library.”

  “Do you know anything about the burglary at the Library?”

  “Library burglary? You mean someone stole some books from the library?”

  The nice officer slapped me hard in the back of the head, “Just keep it up, wise ass.”

  I can’t believe he struck me. Fanny-blower. Calm yourself.

  The mean officer continued, “No, the Library Bar and Grill. What do you think we were talking about?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Where were you on October 22, 2007?”

  “Probably the same as any other night at the dorm. I either study at the library or drink with my buddies.”

  “Should we bring your roommate here and ask him?”

  “Go ahead. I didn’t think I had to write my whole life down in a diary, so I can prove my whereabouts to the police state for every second of my life.”

  The nice looking officer clenched and unclenched his fists several times. Oh, brothers, I knew this interview would become physical again.

  The mean looking officer said, “Let me guess. You don’t know anything about the break-in at the house in Canyon Ridge?”

  “Where’s Canyon Ridge.”

  The nice officer slapped me in the back of the head again. Then he screamed, “On the other side of town. Next to your girlfriends’ house.”

  “Girlfriend?” Fucking dik-dik. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  The officers started laughing. The mean one continued, “That’s right. You’ve lost her. We talked to Dean Tremaine. He told us everything about you?”

  “Sorry guys. I didn’t know the name of her neighborhood.”

  “So you admit to breaking into Mr. Stryker’s house?”

  “Sorry guys, it wasn’t me.”

  The nice officer said, “You know, you can get ten years for breaking into a business. Ah, but breaking into a residence. That’s twenty years. Mandatory.”

  “I don’t know anything about it.”

  The mean officer pointed at the opaque window, “Mr. Stryker is standing behind that glass. He identified you as the suspect.”

  “That’s great news for you. You’ve got your witness. I’ll see you in court, and the state can present him as the witness to the jury.”

  The nice-looking officer reddened while his mouth trembled. He turned his back to me and clenched and unclenched his fist several times again. The slapping ended but his knuckles would take over for a little while.

  The nice officer continued, “Then you would not happen to know anything about the armed robbery of the bursar’s office?”

  “What? The bursar’s office?” Brothers, I sat there perplexed. I had no inkling that a team robbed the university during my protest. “That’s the first I heard of it.”

  “That was clever to organize a protest, so your buddies could rob the bursar’s office.”

  I just sat there and stared coldly at the officers, “I didn’t rob the bursar’s office.”

  The mean-looking cop said, “If you cooperate and give up your buddies’ names, we can talk to the judge. The judge could reduce your sentence for cooperating with the authorities.”

  The nice-looking cop added, “You’re looking a minimum of 20 years in prison for these crimes. But if you cooperate, you probably get twenty years, reduced to ten for good behavior”

  Oh, brothers, sweat stung my eyes. I bent my head down and wiped my left eye on my left shoulder. Then I turned my head and rubbed my right eye on the other shoulder.

  The mean-looking officer said, “I don’t think he’s hearing us.”

  The nice officer screamed, “Who are your accomplices in the bursar robbery?”

  “I didn’t rob the bursar’s office.”

  “Where did your gang hide the money?”

  “I don’t have a gang. I didn’t rob anyone. I especially didn’t rob the university.”

  The mean officer said, “I think the kid’s playing stupid.”

  Bam, as my head jerked to the side after the nice officer punched hard.

  “That’s a violation of my civil ri-“

  Snap. My head jerked to the other side.

  The mean officer said, “You have no rights. Where’s the money?”

  “I.. I didn’t steal any money.” Oh corrupt cops. Jerkinhead. “I.. I demand to speak with my attorney.” I screamed.

  “Who’s your lawyer?”

  “Give me a phone book. I’ll find one.”

  The officers laughed. Then the mean looking officer punched me in the mouth.

  My teeth rattle and shook while my bottom lip split open.

  “Who are your accomplices?”

  “I don’t have any accomplices.”

  “You organized that protest to create a diversion, so you and your friends could rob the university.”

  “Diversion? Hell no. That protest was to fight against next year’s tuition hike.” Then I spat blood on the floor.

  “What’s your HIV status?” the nice looking officer said.

  “HIV status? Are you kidding me?”

  “Do you have HIV?”

  “How would I know? But I met so many nice girls in college. You never know.”

  Bam. My head jerked to the left again.

  I screamed, “If you guys stop hitting me, you wouldn’t need to worry about my HIV status.”

  Oh, brothers, the first few slaps and punches hurt the most. Then a numbness and peaceful calm swept over me.

  After an hour of physical interrogation with the officers, they dragged me to the cell and left me on the floor. I imagine I left a trail of blood and fluids on the floor that marked my path.