Jail

The cops hated that I was there. They kept telling me I should’ve just slugged the photographer. I got processed and thrown into a holding cell. I had one phone call but I hadn’t used it yet. I wasn’t sure who to call. I had the number of an activist attorney memorized, the kind who would show up or send someone quickly to treat me like a political prisoner. But the cops weren’t sure what they were going to do either. They didn’t want to particularly call the district attorney’s office. But there was the destruction of property and a photographer who said he wanted to press charges.

I decided to take a nap. Naps always make things clearer.

First one of the assistant prosecutors woke me up.

-What’s your problem, he asked, kicking at my side.

-What? I asked, looking up. He couldn’t have been more than a year out of law school. The district attorney’s office was full of these kids.

-You know what a headache you are at the office?

-What? I felt like I was still half-asleep and I felt a fever coming on.

-What’d you have to get involved in the shooting at the city council chambers? You should’ve let the cops handle it. You’re lucky we cut you loose from the investigation and didn’t slap you with a conspiracy charge. There was a lot of pressure. Now here you are, over some a-hole photographer. What was he taking pictures of you for?

-I don’t think he was taking my picture, I said, trying to recall.

-Well he wants to press charges and we’re inclined to agree.

-The cops didn’t read me my Miranda rights.

-That’s not a problem, the young lawyer laughed, calling one of the cops. Read him his rights officer.

The cop looked at me and cleared his throat.

-You have the right to remain silent, he began. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. You have the right to an attorney. If you can’t afford one, we can provide one for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? He paused before adding, I do.

-With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me? he finished, looking at the lawyer before walking away.

-Miranda rights aren’t magic words, the assistant prosecutor said, squatting down to get closer to my level. Here’s the way it’ll work. You’ll complain you didn’t get your Miranda rights when the cops first stopped you, or you won’t. Chances are nothing you said between then and now matters anyway. The whole case is pretty simple. Worst case scenario, you press the issue and the department gets fined a few thousand dollars. The money wouldn’t go to you, you’ll owe for the camera you destroyed.

-I don’t know that I destroyed it, I said, still hoping to get back to sleep. Anyway, what is it you want from me?

-I want you to go away, U. I don’t want to have to deal with you, none of us do. Let’s give this photographer, what’s his name, a couple of days to cool down. Can you afford to pay him for the camera?

-Sure, why not, I muttered, closing my eyes as the fever took over.

I slept in the corner long enough to start drooling and got woken up again in the middle of the night by one of the cops.

-Get up and get out, he said gruffly.

-What do you mean?

-Someone’s come to get you out.

He opened the call, walking past some of the other detainees and helping me off the floor. He walked me out to one of the booking rooms. There was a folder with papers he handed to me. You’ll sign those. It’s like a no contest. You sign it, admit you destroyed the camera and that you’ll pay for it within a month.

-And that’s it?

-Yeah, the cop muttered.

I was confused.

-Why?

-Someone’s come to get you out, he repeated, nodding over to a door tucked away at the end of the anterior wall.

I wasn’t sure if he meant for me to go through there. It led deeper into police headquarters, not out of it. It felt like a trap.

-Go on, the cop said, nodding again. Don’t keep her waiting.

I don’t know if he said her but that’s how I remembered. The fever had broken while I slept but I still felt groggy. Somehow I knew it was Kendra.

I was right.

-What are you doing here? I asked before I had to chance to think of it better.

-Coming to your rescue, again, she laughed as she stepped closer to me.

-Are you after my heart, she asked with a smile. Taking bullets and hitting journalists.

-He’s from some gossip rag, I said.

-I can’t keep doing this, she said. I got you out of a lot of hot water with the cops and prosecutors. Don’t forget you were almost charged with your friends, she added as she took me by the arm and started walking us down a hallway I wasn’t familiar with. I felt like we were going deeper into the police headquarters.

-The only thing I remember is our date.

-Are you trying to make that harder?

-No, I’m tired of waiting. I don’t know what else to do with myself and I haven’t for a long time.

-Is that so, she said, turning to me briefly as we turned a corner. You won’t have to wait much longer.

-Where are we going now? I finally asked. She looked at me with a hint of disappointment.

-Down to the basement garage. I’ve got a car waiting for us. Did you think I would walk you out the front door of police headquarters. Or do you think I was walking you into a trap?

The whole thing’s been a trap, I thought to myself before shaking the idea off and smiling at her.

-I won’t have to wait much longer, I asked, trying to take the conversation back.

-No, I think the wait’s over, she said with a soft smile just as we got to the elevator to the parking garage.