Sergio De La Pava - A Naked Singularity

He nodded his head up and down. “Goodbye counselor,” he said and left.

I went back upstairs, called the office to say I wouldn’t be in until the afternoon, and resumed writing. For the next several hours I lost myself in what I was doing and I don’t think stopped typing for more than twenty seconds at a time. When I finished I was done. I printed the brief, stuck it in a box, and went to the office.

Toomberg wasn’t in his office when I stopped by with the box late that afternoon. I left it on his desk with a hastily-composed note and looked around. There were all sorts of diplomas and plaudits and seemingly any tome ever created with The Law as justification. As I walked out he came in:

“I finished it,” I said. “Left it on your desk.”

“Really? Great I’ll bring it home tonight. I’ll probably finish reading it tomorrow on the long train ride.”

“Train?”

“Yes I’m going to D.C. tomorrow, to watch the argument on Atkins .”

“You’re going to the Supreme Court?”

“First thing in the morning. Listen, I think it’s going to go really well from what I’m hearing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just from what I’m hearing. You know, the word on the street.”

“I’m sorry the what? The street?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Listen, don’t get your hopes up Toom.”

“No it’s not just me, I have a friend who clerks for one of the justices and when I talked to him this morning he seemed to maybe agree with me.”

“He did.”

“He’s a bit tight-lipped so its hard to say definitively but I thought so”

“That’s something I guess.”

“Darn tootin.”

“What’s that with the tootin?”

“I’m sorry I’m just excited. Everything just seems to point to them ruling that you cannot execute the mentally retarded without violating the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Just be careful you don’t cruelly and unusually punish yourself by getting too excited. Remember until they rule anything’s possible. Speaking of, when would they rule?”

“Not for a few months but that’s the other great news. Until the Supreme Court rules Alabama can’t do anything to Jalen.”

“So this thing isn’t actually due?”

“No we still need to comply with the time limit to preserve everything but at the very least, regardless of how the court ultimately rules, Jalen has a few more months. Like I said I think the court’s going to ultimately save this kid’s life. I’m optimistic.”

“You really think those nine fucks would do that?”

“Oh, show some respect. That’s the Supreme Court of the United States of America and yes I do. Maybe.”

“I hope you’re right and I’ve never known you to be otherwise Toomie.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Just tired, from writing.”

“You should go home and rest, you haven’t looked good for a while.”

“Is Tom back?”

“Vacation.”

“Still?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“This is like the longest vacation ever. What about his case? The woman torched her kid. I’m supposed to be working on it with him and he hasn’t talked to me in weeks.”

“He got relieved on that.”

“What?”

“Sure, a while back. You didn’t know?”

“Why?”

“It was right before he went on vacation as I recall.”

“Not when, why?”

“No one knows really.”

“What the fuck is going on here exactly?”

No one knew, I went home.

I did feel better when I thought of Jalen being safe for at least a few more months, couldn’t wait to write him with the good news. I supposed Toomberg was right about the respect thing too, especially if the nine were going to rule the way he thought they would.

When I saw Assado sitting in the hallway just to the side of my apartment door it took all my restraint to keep from kicking him in the face. “Who are you?” I said. “Can I help you?”

“I thought you might want to let me take a look around your apartment,” he said and he pointed at my door.

“Why would you think that exactly?”

“Well I know you want to cooperate so I thought you would save me the trouble of getting a warrant.”

“A warrant, really? A warrant based on what Assado?”

“Detective.”

“I’m curious Mondongo, what evidence, if any, you would present in support of that warrant.”

“Are you saying I cannot enter your apartment?”

“That’s right. Now I’ve answered all your questions, answer my single one. What would you say to get that warrant?”

“Remember before, I told you how I think most of the people I arrest actually feel relief? For whatever the reason, I have observed a need to confess among the guilty, a need to purge so to speak. What do you think about that?”

“I think this is as good a time as any to end this conversation as well as any future contact.”

“You think? Because frankly I feel like we’re just getting started. Have you ever been to confession?”

“No.”

“You sure? Because I’m told the person confessing really does feel a lot better afterwards. More to the point, have you heard of a show called Clerical Confessions ?”

“A show?”

“Yeah on TV. Well actually it’s not TV it’s HBO. Heard of it?”

“No.”

“You sure? Anyway I guess what happens is they secretly videotape people confessing. As in to a priest, you understand?”

“I think so.”

“When I first heard about the show, it’s in pre-production now, I didn’t give it much thought. But now I picture all sorts of law enforcement possibilities attaching to it. Are you catching my drift? I mean can’t you imagine a videotape showing an individual confessing his sensational crime to a priest? Sure there’s all sorts of clergy privilege issues but imagine the priest willingly providing the tape apparently in some sort of retaliation for the confessor having destroyed his little cubicle or whatever they call it. Can you imagine all that? What would you make of it?”

“Once again I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about?”

“Not the slightest?”

“Not.”

“Okay well since you won’t let me in I guess I’ll be leaving. Of course if you haven’t figured it out by now we’ll probably be seeing each other fairly soon. Unless there’s something you want to say to me now.”

“There is.”

“Shoot.”

“You have change for a dollar?”

He did and after he left I went outside and used it to call Dane from a pay phone.

The Benitez/Hearns fight would not be the last between members of The Quintet. Incredibly, the year 1983 would belong to Roberto Duran. The same fighter everyone wrote off as washed-up following his loss to Laing was reborn that year, cementing his status as one of history’s truly great fighters in the process.

First, in January of that year, Duran fought Pipino Cuevas. The fight featured two former welterweight champions each trying to register a much-needed significant win. At twenty-six, Cuevas was five years younger than Duran and, having followed the Hearns disaster with two impressive knockout victories and a close decision loss, certainly appeared to have more left than the seemingly spent Duran who had lost two of his last three fights and who had failed to score a knockout victory in eight fights and almost three years. Cuevas appeared to have the clear advantage is what I’m saying. Instead, Duran began his latest series of surprises by stopping Cuevas in the fourth round.