Page 100 of Ghosts Don't Cry
“We’ve spoken to most of the people who were there,” the older officer says. “But we’d like to hear your version of events.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, considering what to say. I have to be careful, one wrong word could send me back inside.
“There’s not much to tell. Dan Hartman was running his mouth off, then threw a punch.”
“At you?”
“That was the intention. Lily got in the way.”
The officer nods slowly, making notes. “Multiple witnesses confirmed that. They were quite clear that you were defending Ms. Gladwin.”
My eyes narrow. That can’t be right. People don’t take my side. They never have.
“What?”
“We have statements from six different people.” He glances at his notes. “All confirming that Hartman initiated the confrontation and threw the first punch, and that you were defending both yourself and Ms. Gladwin from his attack.”
I stare at him, still waiting for the cuffs to come out. But he just watches me, expression neutral.
“Your response,” the other officer says, “while a little excessive, was reportedly in defense of Ms. Gladwin after she was struck, and from what others say the leadup to it was purposely done to incite a physical reaction from you.”
His partner shifts his weight. “Witnesses said you’d been trying to walk away before it became physical.”
His words don’t make sense. People saw what happened and told the truth? They didn’t twist it to fit what they expected to see?
“We’ll need a formal statement.” The lead officer pulls out more papers. “And there may be further questions, depending on whether charges are filed.”
“Charges.” The word comes out filled with all the fear I’m trying to hide.
This is it. This is where they tell me I’m going back inside. Where they explain that because of my record, there’s zero tolerance for violence. One fight is enough. My mind is already calculating. Three years, minimum. Maybe five.
“Against Hartman.” His eyebrows lift slightly. “By Ms. Gladwin. For assault.”
Wait … what? They’re not talking about me? They’re talking about charging Dan.
“What about you? Did you want to press charges as well?”
For a moment, I can’t speak. I can’t think past the static in my head. They’re offeringmethe option of pressing charges?Me?The ex-con who’s supposed to be the dangerous one? The one everyone expects to be the threat?
“No.”
He nods, unsurprised. “We’ll still need your official statement about what happened.”
I tell them what they need to know, keeping it factual and simple.
Dan started it. Lily got hit. I responded.
When I finish talking, Tom clears his throat, and steps forward. “I can also verify he came straight here afterward. He spent an hour at my place, then came home. He’s been here since.”
The officer makes notes, then closes his book. “That should do it. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”
I walk them to the door, still waiting for them to change their minds, but they just give me a final nod and walk back to their car.
Tom stays on the porch, watching as they pull away. When the taillights disappear, he turns to look at me.
“Told you that you wouldn’t be dealing with it alone.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Toanyof it. People spoke up for me. Tom stood in my kitchen and confirmed my movements like it was normal.
