Dave Zeltserman: Small crimes

I could understand the hatred that must have been burning inside her to push her into such a crazy plan. And it was crazy and juvenile and poorly thought out. I don't know how in the world she thought she was going to explain what her two friends were doing on that dirt road so they could just happen to come across me while I was 'raping' her. But I could understand the hatred that drove her to try framing me. I could imagine her looking at her father's face every day for eight years and hating me just a little bit more each day. I could imagine how her rage must've boiled over when she heard that I was being paroled after only seven years. She probably had convinced herself that she was only correcting a gross miscarriage of justice – that it would be only right for me to end up serving another twenty years, and in a harder place than county jail. I was lucky she hadn't gotten herself a gun and walked into Zeke's and started blasting away. And I wouldn't have blamed her if she had.

I made up my mind then to leave Bradley. I'd only been kidding myself for a long time. There are some crimes that just can't be forgiven.

I drove to the Bradley police station and told my story to the desk sergeant, Frank Schilling. Frank and I went way back. He was a year older than I was, and as kids we used to play football and baseball together. At one time we used to be friends and we were both ushers at each other's weddings. Now, though, he didn't seem too happy to see me and he sure as hell didn't believe my story.

'I got to tell you, Denton,' he said, 'that doesn't sound like the Clara I know. When she was younger she used to babysit my kids. She's a good kid. I don't believe she'd pull a stunt like that. It sounds like bullshit to me.'

'Frank, I swear, that's what happened.'

He made a face when I called him 'Frank', sort of like he was smelling bad cheese. 'Why don't you call me Sergeant Schilling,' he said.

'You got to be kidding.'

He gave me a cold stare. 'You been drinking tonight, Denton?' he asked after a while.

'I had two beers at Zeke's.'

'I'll send someone over to check that out. You doing any drugs?'

I shook my head. 'I've only been out eight hours now. Where would I have had time to get drugs?'

'You've had plenty of time to get into this ugly mess.'

I started to say something, but forced my mouth shut.

He let out a long, pained sigh before asking if I was willing to submit to a drug test. I told him I had no problem with that.

He looked over his notes. 'And you don't know who those two boys were that you worked over?'

'No, they didn't look familiar. But then again, I've been gone for a while. The jeep I took off them is out front. You could check to see if the registration is in the car.'

'You just beat the hell out of those two boys and left them in the middle of nowhere,' he said with some disgust.

'I told you they were trying to frame me for a rape-'

'Yeah, that's your story,' he said. 'I'm going to sit you in the interrogation room until we sort this out.'

The Bradley police station has a single interrogation room that is almost never used. During my twelve years on the force, I had never used it. The first time I ever sat in that room was the night I was arrested for arson and attempted murder. Frank brought me back there and had me sit and wait. Two hours later the door opened and Phil walked in. His skin had a sickly pallor, making it look as if his face had been dipped in wax.

He sat down across from me and told me to tell him my story.

'Your daughter followed me from my parents' house to Zeke's. She picked me up at the bar, drove me down a dirt path off Cumberland Road in Eastfield, and tried to frame me with a rape charge. She had two friends waiting there, one with a tire iron. Maybe they were planning to beat me to death.'

He sat expressionless for several minutes as he stared at me. As difficult as it was, I stared back. I tried not to look at the road map of scars that had been left on his face. Finally he asked about Clara following me from my parents' house.

'You're an intelligent man, Joe,' he said. 'If you knew my daughter had been stalking you, why would you get in a car with her?'

'It wasn't something I was consciously aware of at the time.' I hesitated. I had just left my parents' house. I was upset. But at some level I remembered her car. It wasn't until it was too late that things clicked.'

'And you didn't recognize my daughter?'

'No. I hadn't seen her for a long time, not since she was a kid. And she was wearing dark granny-style sunglasses to hide her eyes.'

He leaned back in his chair and continued with his staring contest. Neither of us moved, neither of us said a word. After about five minutes of it he broke it off and told me that the two boys were in the hospital.

"The one you punched in the face suffered severe damage to his jaw. He won't be talking for months. You shattered the other boy's arm in three places. The surgeon had to use several rods to reattach the bone. He'll have to undergo intensive rehabilitation and probably will never have full use of his arm again. I know both of them and they're from good families. Are you proud of yourself, Joe?'

'I had no choice. What would you have done?'

'Not what you did, Joe.'

'I did what I had to.' I hesitated before asking him how his daughter was.

His eyes showed some life for the first time. For a moment I thought he was going to take a swing at me. 'She's in shock,' he said softly. 'Her shirt was torn off and she's got a black eye and bruises all over her body. How'd her shirt get torn off?'

'She did that herself,' I said.

'And her bruises? She did that herself?'

'I was trying to get free of her after I realized what was happening. When I saw her friends running to greet me, I tried a little harder. I didn't try to hurt her, though.'

"That was awful thoughtful of you, Joe. Those scratches on your face look more like the defensive wounds a rape victim might cause. Just as my daughter's injuries look consistent with a rape.'

'Phil, you don't want to do this. Not to yourself and not to your daughter.'

'I'm just going by the evidence, Joe.'

'No, you're not. I have no interest in pressing charges against your daughter and her friends. I came here to clear this up and make sure they leave me alone from this point on.'

"That's awful generous of you, Joe.'

'Look,' I said, 'this won't make it past a grand jury. It would only end up embarrassing you and making things difficult for your daughter. How in the world can you explain her two friends being out in the middle of nowhere to conveniently save her?'

'First of all, I am past embarrassment. You made sure of that, Joe. As far as those two boys being out on that dirt path, my guess is it was just a coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm sure Clara and her friends hang out there occasionally. Those two boys were probably there to drink or hunt.'

'There were no guns or alcohol in their jeep.'

'Maybe they were going to meet friends. They'll tell us when they're able.'

I just started laughing. The whole thing was just too laughable. 'Phil,' I said when I could. 'How are you going to explain her stalking me and picking me up at Zeke's?'

'You don't even remember fully my daughter being outside your parents' house. As you told me, it's only some subconscious impression of yours. And about Clara picking you up…'

He seemed momentarily lost. He opened and closed his mouth. Then he got up and left the room.

As I sat there I couldn't help feeling anxious. I wasn't worried about having sexual assault and battery charges brought against me. As much as Phil would love to send me to prison, I couldn't see him using a frame. He'd wait until he had a real crime. Besides, this whole thing would collapse on him if he tried bringing charges. I guess what I was anxious about was the level of hostility I was seeing. I had every reason in the world to expect it from Phil and his daughter, but from Frank Schilling and Tony Flauria? And from my own parents? With them it was more passive, but it was there all the same. You have dirty cops who get busted all the time and the world moves on. I wasn't the first and I'm certainly not going to be the last. Hell, Dan Pleasant was dirtier than I ever was and he had more blood on his hands. There've been a few people over the years who've died in his custody. They were lowlifes and nobody ever cared much about it, but in one way or another, I knew their deaths were convenient to Dan. Still, people smile and wave back to him on the street and vote him back into office every election.