Page 5 of A Boy is a Gun: Part I
“You don’t need to read it over,” Martin tries to stop me, and I continue, “it just says you were read your rights, and that’s it.”
I finish the document in record timing and turn it back to him, pointing at a line stating it’s a waiver. I smile at Martin, looking him directly in the eye, and shake my head. Martin releases a small sigh and smiles, trying to hide his frustration. He’s working a question in his mind, probably wondering how he could get me to admit to a crime I didn’t do.
I can read him already. He’s used to the dumb ones. The ones that start singing the moment they’re facing even one year. The ones that may not have dropped out of high school but damn sure didn’t get past the first semester at community.
We never met, but I’m sure he’s heard of my reputation. There’s no other reason for me to be here other than suspicion. No doubt Ethan gave him the whole rundown with footnotes about me. I’m already pissed off that I’m missing even just a few minutes away from being with Mia.
I can play this game all night.
Martin finally speaks, and remember when I said police lie, kids? “Your friend, Quentin… goes by Que. He already admitted to the robbery. He even said it was you that pistol-whipped Patrice.” He leans forward like he’s trying to reason with me. “Your friend, your homeslice…he admitted to all of it.”
My homeslice, huh? It’s so racist; it’s comical. It reminds me of how people change their tone and dialect to see if they can appear to be moredown,but they sound stupider. I remain silent, and Martin is even more frustrated.
“Do you want to be in here all night? You just had a baby. I remember when my daughter was born, and I didn’t want to spend even a minute away from her. I still don’t, now that she’s fully grown.” Martin shakes his head and pulls out his wallet. He shows me a picture of his daughter as a baby and a newer one as an adult in college. She’s a beautiful woman, and I’ll keep that information in my back pocket. “A beautiful baby girl. Don’t you want to go home to her? Just admit everything, and we’ll ensure you’ll be out soon.”
Again, silence.
After an hour or so, with nothing but the air in the room, Martin finally leaves. Another couple of hours pass, and I’m slowly plotting my revenge on the entire Atlanta P.D. They wouldn’t know what hit them.
A few more hours pass, and it’s already the next day. I’m sure Taylor has been discharged, and my anger is at an all-time high now. The door opens again; this time, my old friend, Ethan. He’s followed by his partner, a younger Black female cop named Lisa Kimble, the police chief, and my father’s attorney, Philip Akers.
I grin as I realize it’s game over.
“Mr. Page, I like to apologize on behalf of the police department for the mix-up today.” The police chief, Craig Randle, says with sincerity. He’s an older white man who looks like he never really got over being in the military with his buzz cut. “Ms. Williams identified her attackers as younger men and said the one who shot her had a tattoo on his face.”
“As you can tell,” Philip argues, “Mr. Page has no tattoos or markings anywhere on his face or body. Furthermore, Mr. Page was nowhere near Ms. Johnson’s home during the attack as he was handling a critical Zoom business meeting with his partners in Silicon Valley; I have shown you this information. He was also with Ms. Gray as she prepared to give birth. Mr. Page wouldn’t have any time to do any crimes he’d been accused of regardless of what your trigger-happy officer thinks.” He glances over at Ethan.
“Just because your client didn’t commit this crime, it doesn’t mean he didn’t commit others,” Ethan folds his arms, “a RICO case often takes a long time to gather information before the charges drop.”
“And unless you have proof of what you just said, Mr. Underwood,” Philip smiles at him, “you need to let my client go.”
“Your client,” Ethan emphasizes as he sits in the chair directly in front of me, “is rumored to be involved in a few crimes, most notably, an explosion at an ice cream parlor just last year.” Ethan cocks his head toward me. “Do you know anything about that, Page?”
“Do not answer anything,” Philip instructs me. “We’re done here.”
“I do have something to say,” I grin at Ethan.
“Cameron…” Philip warns me, and I brush him off.
“It’s fine, Phil. It’ll be quick.” I flash all 32 teeth at Ethan.
Ethan stares down at me and is trying to figure out within seconds if it’s going to be a serious conversation or me wasting his time. He doesn’t want to take the chance of it being fruitful, so he motions to his partner to leave. She looks at me and shakes her head. “We’ll be watching and recording every word.” She goes with my attorney and the police chief in tow.
It’s silence for a few seconds as I gather my thoughts. The anger is boiling inside me, but I can’t let him see that. We both know if I lose my cool, I’m getting locked up, and knowing his little ass, I’ll miss more of Mia’s birthdays.
Now time is definitely on my side.
“I have to give it to you, Detective,” I nod and do a slow golf clap. “That was brilliant back there. Was it arresting me on my daughter’s birthday? Brilliant. I mean, there was no way I could’ve been committing any crimes, considering I would be by Taylor’s side as she gave birth. But did it matter to you? No. Your job – in which you succeeded – embarrassed me in front of her. Reflecting on Mia’s birth, she’ll never forget how I was arrested.
“And by doing that, you officially planted seeds in Taylor’s head. Not only will she remember this event for the rest of her life, but now she’s going to wonder if it’ll happen again. What if we’re hosting Mia’s 5thbirthday, and this happens? What if Mia is doing a school play, and this happens in front of the PTA? Then what?” I lick my lips.
“The crime didn’t occur when Taylor was in the hospital, dickhead,” Ethan taunts as he leans back and folds his arms, “it happened during the middle of the day – when you and Que would’ve been available.”
I follow Ethan’s lead and mock him. He’s not fazed, but I’m getting warmed up. “Any proof of what you’re saying?”
“I don’t need proof,” Ethan grins, “I have Patrice’s words. That’s all I need.” He nods.
“And her description that completely exonerates me,” I shrug.
