Page 69 of Precise Justice

“Addresses, phone numbers, where do we find them?” Amanda asked.

“Try the park, Arden Park. Usually in the Rec Center.”

“There was another rape of a trans girl a couple nights ago in St. Paul…”

“I didn’t have anything to do with no rape in St. Paul!” Junior almost yelled.

“Did your pals, McKay and Smith?” Amanda asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them for a few days. Let me go, let me go, I gotta go. I gotta get out of here. Please don’t show these to my dad or put them on the internet, please.”

“As long as you’re cooperative we won’t. Find out who did the rape in St Paul. We’ll wait, if you help us, we’ll help you,” Amanda said.

Junior and his friend almost ran out the door. About a week later, a few days after Christmas there was a small article in the Star Tribune’s Metro section page one, below the fold. The gist of it was the suicide of a young man in South Minneapolis. Twenty-year-old Howard Bonner, Junior, was found in their home garage. An apparent suicide with a handgun.

Junior had not discovered who the attackers were that did the St. Paul rape.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Dear Diary:May 21st

After a winter-long pause that began after Christmas last year, the rapes have started again. The pause began about the time of Junior Bonner’s suicide.

I know I have told you this before, but Junior was a bully. A mean bully too. He was even a bully to his friends. Like all bullies, he was compensating. He must have known very early that he was attracted to boys. That he was queer. To compensate, he bullied other boys.

As I write, once again, the rapes have started. At last night’s meeting, we were told about them. In the past week, there were two in Minneapolis and one in St. Paul.

The two in Minneapolis were committed against a trans couple. A male and a female. The male, of course, was formerly a girl; the female was a boy. They were also African American. Their attackers were three black kids, not more than fourteen or fifteen.

Once again, the trans couple, early twenty-something, refused to go to the police. We have their names.

Two more weeks until graduation. I have told you,

I have been accepted into a very good college. St. Catherine’s in St. Paul. They have an excellent nursing program. I’m going to get a baccalaureate R.N. degree and maybe continue on to get an M.D. Mother Dear, and her dysfunctional family have inherited plenty of money. She can pay for it.

Time for bed. Almost done with The Wheaton Academy. It’s been a good school and I will miss it.

“Marc there’s a Robbie Craig on line one,” Marc heard the office receptionist, Ryan Burke, inform him. “Do you know…”

“Yeah, I’ll take it, thanks Ryan,” Marc replied.

“Robbie, how are you?” Marc sincerely asked.

“I’m doing okay, Marc. So, you remember me,” Robbie said.

“Of course,” Marc said.

“Oh, that reminds me, I saw in the paper the engagement announcement between you and Madeline Rivers. Wow! Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Robbie. Yep, I’m gonna try it again.”

“It’s not like it wasn’t obvious you were head-over-heels for her,” Robbie said.

“Everybody says that. Everyone else knew before I did,” Marc replied.

“No offense, but you’re overreaching,” Robbie said.

“Everybody says that too. Lucky guy. Have you graduated from high school?”

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