Sergio De La Pava: A Naked Singularity

And on bad nights like that night with Manos you will scarcely have room to move as a great many other bodies wait there with you, the cell walls straining against the immured humanity; the number of bodies held therein so great you would not think so many could simultaneously do wrong. A teeming multitude with its components angling desperately for their just portion of the surrounding air and now you’re ready to declare Hobbes victorious over Rousseau with scant need for further deliberation. Because people sleep face-down on the sticky floor, the ones who aren’t too pained from active withdrawal, and you’re handed a small carton of milk with an unsealed plastic bag of white bread squeezing baloney and cheese to bleed solar-yellow mustard while you smell those alien body parts you least wanted to smell, watch dirty hands tremble to hold bloody scabs, feel beset by voices indistinctly grouped in throng and in the corner, as if on display, is an uncovered toilet next to a payphone available to any member of that preterite crowd capable of inserting a quarter and willing to make a phone call while watching someone take, or more accurately give , a shit. But worst is that every time a body goes out to see the judge it comes right back in shaking its head and it doesn’t take much to deduce that you will soon be doing the same. That’s where you are, where You ended up.

Where I was, by contrast, was fifteen yards away staring at an empty basket and praying it wouldn’t fill with more yellow (felonies) and blue (misdemeanors) papers describing additional bodies I would meet under duress so they could lie to me. But it did fill and the filling compelled me to action. And I’m going to start start here because I met Dane for the first time that night; that meeting and consequently the many subsequent ones a pure product of arraignment-schedule chance. We stared at the basket then each other and I realized that to that point he had said maybe five extra-judicial words. Consistent with that he absently grabbed an unfairly large share of the cases and went off to interview them without a sound.

Linda was a battle-scarred veteran of double digit years who had mastered the expected art form of appearing to be quite busy while doing little of value and was therefore nowhere near the basket. I took what remained, mostly yellow some blue, and went to the back to do the interviews. I planned to do them with extreme velocity too because I had done about a quillion already and wanted desperately to get the hell out of there. The first case I looked at was Darril Thorton, a yellow back charged with Sex Abuse in the First Degree (PL § 130.65). I called his name softly, hoping he wouldn’t answer, but he immediately moved in, a let’s-get-this-over-with look on his face. He spoke first, obviously yelling but still creating only a barely audible signal:

— noise background,

My getting out or what?!

My money’s on what, followed by a pause long enough to be uncomfortable.

Oh c’mon I didn’t do nothing man! This is bullshit you got to get me up out of here on the double yo, she’s lying on me!

Easy, hold on, let’s start at the top. Here’s my card. My name’s Casi, I’m going to be your attorney. Let’s see, well, you’re charged with Sex Abuse in the First Degree, that’s a Class D violent felony.

Wait let me see this, holding the ivory rectangle up to the bar-streaked light and nodding negatively, uh-uh.

What uh-uh?

I don’t want you man, starting to walk out but not really.

Why? What’s the problem?

Because man, sitting back down, I wanted an 18B, only thing you guys ever did for me is send me upstate man. No offense but that’s just keeping it real on your ass, pointing but not at it.

Well, whatever, you’re sort of stuck with me so let’s just see how it goes for a bit okay?

No.

Who’s Valerie Grissom?

Man you all right. Okay, she’s a crackhead. That’s what I’m trying to tell you officer, I mean lawyer. She’s making up some crazy stuff, everybody knows she’s a fabricator and a confabulator. Everybody knows it!

You know that for a fact?

What, that she confabulates?

No, that she’s a crackhead.

Everybody knows!

How do you know? You smoke with her?

I don’t smoke man but I seen her smoke.

So she has a record?

Man she been popped tons of times, laughing but still managing to sound angrier somehow.

You know her date of birth?

Na man, I ain’t know her like that.

She married, kids?

Kids somewhere I think but they ain’t around.

What’s your relationship to her.

Man we ain’t related. Shit, what the fuck you think?

I mean how do you know her?

Just from the neighborhood man, everybody knows her she’s always up in everybody’s business.

How long you known her?

A few years man!

Just relax a bit. She’s saying that two weeks ago at 322 West 119th Street… that where she lives?

She’s sort of homeless but I think she stays there a lot with a friend of hers.

She’s saying that you forced her down on the bed—

What?!

Let me finish. She says you threw her down on the bed, put your forearm across her neck and forced your fingers into her vagina.

How many fingers?

Just says fingers.

Can they do that?

Not specify how many fingers?

Yeah.

Yes.

Well that’s crazy man. That’s a complete and totally utter lie, I’ve never even been in a bed with her! What bed are they saying? I can’t believe this! It’s a total set up. Total. Set. Up. You have to get me out of here.

You ever had a sexual relationship with her?

Never.

The truth, Darril.

Never, I swear!

Well did the two of you have some kind of argument over something?

I haven’t even seen her in like… let me see… two months?

So what’s going on?

You tell me.

Well you’re saying this woman with whom you’ve never had more than a casual relationship and haven’t even seen in two months suddenly decided to falsely accuse you of essentially raping her. Does that make any sense? If the two of you have no beef and you’ve never been more than just acquaintances why would she possibly make this up?

I have a theory but I can tell by looking at you, which he then did exaggeratedly, that you will not accept it. I can see that in your eyes.

What’s the reason?

Your eyes.

What’s the reason she’s lying?

Fine, The Hater.

What?

The Accuser.

The what-user?

The fallen and rebellious angel himself.

The hell you talking about?

The Prince of Darkness man. You heard of him right?

Okay I have heard of him but what does that have to do with this?

Look I found the Lord okay? I’m about to become a minister as a matter of fact. And one thing I’ve learned, in my studies and etceteras, is that the Dark Prince gets into people man. Now I’m trying to get my life together. I been out of prison twenty-three months. You see I been reporting to parole and working as a mechanic right there on 118th Street. Why would I do this? Tell me that. I would have to be crazy to do that insertion and whatnot. I’m trying to stay clean but The Evil One sees that man. He sees that and he says I’m taking this man down, this righteous man who hath turned to the good book must now falleth . And that’s why this is happening. But all I know is I never touched that woman. It’s a lie, she’s a false witness being brought to bear.

Well, whatever the reason, she’s saying you did this and—

I done told you the reason, the very archenemy of God has—

Okay whatever stop. The bottom line is that as a result of her statement to the police you’ve been charged with this and we’re about to go in front of a judge who’s going to decide what your bail is.