David Putnam - The Disposables

“What did you do next?”

“I went to the location. And because there was a threat to the safety of a child, I didn’t knock. I drew my service weapon and went in the back door.”

“And what did you find?”

“A six-year-old boy hog-tied facedown in a stifling room. It was at least a hundred and twenty inside the house. He was bleeding profusely from his mouth and nose. It looked like his arm was broken, and he was in shock.”

“What happened next?”

“The defendant,” Robby pointed to Johnny Wayne, “without provocation charged me. I was forced to defend myself.”

“He’s a liar!” Two pews back a sketchy speed-freak woman in a dingy-white tank top and greasy jeans, stood up. I knew her as Dora Bascombe. “He’s a liar. He attacked my Johnny and beat the livin’ shit out of him. Pistol-whipped his ass until he was a bloody pulp. Look at his face, Judge. Christ, look at his face.”

The judge banged his gavel. The bailiff moved into the audience, took the screaming woman by the arm, and tugged and pulled her out of the courtroom.

I looked back at Johnny Wayne. He smiled, happy that his woman had stood up for him. Her misplaced loyalty meant a lot in his world. Johnny didn’t have any front teeth, courtesy of Robby Wicks, which gave his smile a sunken look, as if the vacant space where his brain should have been sucked and puckered his lips and skin into an empty vortex.

When the courtroom was again under control, the deputy DA turned back to Robby, “Please, Lieutenant, continue.”

“Like I said, before I could render aid to the child, the defendant attacked me. I had no alternative but to use the force necessary to subdue and take the suspect into custody.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Now, I would like to show you some photos of-”

“Your Honor,” the public defender stood and spoke for the first time, a diminutive man dressed in a worn JCPenney’s suit. “For the purposes of this hearing we will stipulate to the injuries of the child.” He sat back down.

The judge looked at the Deputy DA. “Do you have anything further?”

“Prosecution rests.”

“Mr. Howard.”

The public defender again stood and moved to the podium. “Your Honor, the State has not proved that my client was the one who committed these crimes. The mere fact that he was present does not prove he was involved.”

The public defender knew the whole story. The woman hauled out of the room had broken the little guy’s arm, but Johnny Wayne was just as culpable. He was the one who’d tied the child up, slugged him in the mouth, gave him fifteen sutures in his lips, and had broken his nose. My Marie had gotten the whole story out of the child when they brought him into Killer King to be treated.

“Further, the felonious assault on a peace officer charge should be dropped because the officer did-”

The judge interrupted him. “Counselor, are you going to cross examine the witness or go right into your closing argument?”

Howard paused, turned back to Robby, “Officer, did you have a warrant to enter the residence?”

“No.”

“Did you… no, strike that. What were you wearing?”

“A suit and tie.”

“At any time did you announce that you were a police officer?”

“Yes, as Mr. Bascombe was charging me I yelled, ‘Stop, police.’”

I looked over at Johnny who knew enough from past court encounters where cops were involved to keep his mouth shut concerning this lie and only shook his head no.

“Officer, was there anyone else in the house that witnessed this, that heard you identify yourself?”

Robby lost his professional demeanor. “Yes, there was, the poor little defenseless kid who was damn near beat to death.”

The judge looked at him as if about to issue an admonishment and changed his mind. “Anything else, Counselor?”

Howard shook his head and sat down.

“Ms. Hosseni?”

She stood. “Yes, Your Honor, we believe there is sufficient evidence to hold the defendant, on the charges PC 273d, 236, PC69, and PC 243b.”

“Mr. Howard?”

“Your Honor, the officer entered without cause and-”

“Mr. Howard, that belongs in a 1538.5 motion. Anything else?”

“The officer did not identify himself, and the defendant believed his residence was being burglarized and defended himself.”

The judge waited for more, and when Howard didn’t continue, the judge looked down at his papers, “The court finds there is sufficient evidence that a crime of 273d, 236, and PC69 did occur, and that there is probable cause to believe the defendant, if tried, would be found guilty. As for the charge of 243b, the State did not prove to this court that the officer sustained any injuries during the assault.” He rapped his gavel. “Let’s set this for December fifteenth. Are there any problems with that date?” Both attorneys were busy logging the information in their files.

“No, Your Honor.”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Next case.”

I got up and hustled to the door.

Robby came down off the stand, and patted the DA on the shoulder as he passed on his way out. She stood. “Detective Wicks?”

I stopped at the door to observe.

Robby turned, went back, lowered his head. They both smiled as they spoke in low tones. Robby nodded, took hold of her shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.

Out in the hall, the elevator was too slow; Robby caught up to me.

“Hey,” Robby said, “I thought I was going to buy you some lunch.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great.”

“Whatta ya say, since we’re so close, for old times, we run up to Stops for a hot link?”

I didn’t have much choice. The entire purpose of the court appearance was to follow Dora Bascombe when she left the courthouse. Now she was nowhere to be seen. Robby had already cheesed that. I’d have to get the information I needed another way, which meant I had to tell Marie all about what I was doing. She wasn’t going to be happy.

We walked in silence out to his car, the same one he’d given me a ride in to Killer King the night the Violent Crime Team killed the kid out in front of Mr. Cho’s. We got in, he started up.

He put his arm over the seat to back out, his face close to mine, “What was it that you were going to talk to me about?”

I was tired and my mind felt full of sludge. “I need your help.” I never intended on telling him, but there was nothing else I could say that he would believe or at least not see right through.

“I’m here for you, man. You know that,” he said.

He steered the car over to Willowbrook Avenue and headed north in the late morning traffic.

“Well, you gonna tell me or sit there like a bump on a log?”

“Detective Mack paid me a visit.”

“Ah, shit. I thought I had that fixed. I’m sorry, man, really. You can bet your ass it won’t happen again. Not after I get through with that little son of a bitch.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. If he came at me after you talked to him, talking to him a second time is only going to make things worse. I’d appreciate it if you’d just lay off him. Maybe he’ll cool out all on his own.” I knew that wasn’t going to happen, but all I had to do was dodge Mack for another week, and then it just wouldn’t matter anymore.

Robby shook his head in disgust. “You know his kind. He’s not working the Violent Crimes Team because he shies away from trouble.”

“I know, but I think I can duck him long enough that he’ll forget about me.”

“It really pisses me off he went against my orders. I’ll go along with you, but only on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“If he catches up to you on some lonely dark street, you leave enough of him for us to identify.”