Liberty City

2002

"You better start talking cocksucker. How long you been in the mafia?"

Same question, different precinct. It was always the same. The cops never changed no matter what city you were in. They always wanted to know the unknowable. They always wanted to ask the questions that couldn't be answered. The who, the what, the where and the how. And you know what, none of it mattered. No matter how much they leaned on me or whatever deal they dangled in front of my face, I gave them nothing because they had nothing. No witnesses and no probable cause. None that would stand up in court anyway.

I was used to this, especially in Liberty City. They treated me like a petty thug with their half-witted remarks and their coffee that tasted like shit. I was no longer Carlo Ralieri. When you stepped into this room, you became nothing. Nada. Zilch. You may as well have been something that they scraped off of their shoes. I mean sure, you might think your wife is bad but these guys? These guys'll bust your balls all day for a living. I'm telling you, every cop in America must have asshole printed on their résumé or something. They all think they're the good guys in a country going to hell. But who were they kidding? If cops weren't cops, they'd be criminals. I mean at least we're the ones who are up front about it. They just use their badge as a weapon. You know why? Because they're pissed off. They're pissed off that they have to spend their days hunting crooks that live better than themselves. They're pissed off that we can get whatever we want, whenever we want it while they gotta stand in line. They're pissed off that a third of their wage goes back to the government. And they're really pissed off that when it all boils down to it, they were the ones who were nothing. They were the ones who were nada. They were zilch. While we dined in fine restaurants, they ate at Burger Shot. While we drove sports cars, they drove an Idaho with the backend missing. How could they even dream that we were nothing? They wasted away what dignity they had left for the sake of a medical and a pension. And believe me, you'd get a better pension working at Cluckin' Bell.

"You guys," I replied, grabbing a packet of cigarettes from my suit pocket and reaching around for a lighter. "You've been watching too many movies."

"Oh yeah?" asked the first cop, exchanging a disappointed glance with his partner. They were pacing the room like vultures, staring me down like I was something dirty. They were waiting, biding their time. Waiting for me to slip up. One wrong word on tape and they could put me away for life.

"Yeah," I said back, my tone mocking them in the way adults speak to children. "Everybody knows there is no Mafia. It was just some bullshit dreamed up by the media to sell papers. I mean America preaches all that 'land of the free' shit but that's all it is. Shit. This country's got a big fucking problem with foreigners they really do. I mean first it was the blacks and now you're targeting the Italians. I gotta say I'm disgraced. You two should be ashamed of yourselves you really should."

"You quite done?"

They knew. I could hear it in his voice. They knew I was buying time.

"I mean," I continued. "What has the world come to when hard working citizens like myself can't get through a day without an interrogation? It's always the same with you guys. You wanna know where I've been. What I've been doing. Who I've been talking to. Do I take sugar in my coffee or do I look at my shit before I flush the toilet. Frankly I'm sick of it. I pay my taxes and for what?"

"You done?" the cop repeated.

"I'll bet your wife chose that tie, am I right?"

Too far. I'd dealt with the puppy. Now I was going to have to contend with the wolf. Detective Manning. You never knew what was going through that crazy fucks mind unless he was screaming it in your face. The guy pretty much bled stars and stripes. He figured my kind was the problem with America today. Like I was the reason this country was going down the shitter.

"I don't think you quite understand the severity of this situation," exploded Manning's voice from across the room. His eyes tore like fire as he focused on me like I was prey. "We got you with your fucking pants down. You listening to me? You're up shit creek without a god damned paddle. If you don't start talking then I'm gonna be so far up your ass that you're gonna be eating for two, you hear me?"

"Up shit creek without a paddle," I repeated, howling with laughter. "I love that. They teach you to talk like that at the academy?"

"We're getting nowhere," said the first cop as he shook his head yawning. He was staring at the clock, defeated. "This is a waste of time. Let's just charge him."

Manning took a seat across from me. He never even blinked as he said, "no. I don't think it is. I think he's afraid. Am I right, Carlo? Are you afraid?"

Sure. I was afraid. To be perfectly honest I was shitting myself. And he could probably see it in my eyes. He could probably hear my foot bouncing against the floor like I was playing the drums. Life in prison isn't any kind of life at all. This one man could destroy everything I'd worked for. The lives I'd ruined with my thirst for money and power, all gone to shit. People I've roughed up. People I've betrayed. People I've murdered. All of it meant nothing if I went to jail. So yeah, I was afraid alright. But then again, why? They still had nothing. No witnesses anyway. People in Liberty City knew better than that. If you stay out of other people's business then you stay alive. But that's when things turned sour. I saw the file in his hand before he even had chance to lift it. It was over now. A file meant they had something. A file meant the difference between walking and doing twenty-five years to life.

"I wanna speak to my lawyer," I blurted out.

"Your lawyer," Manning repeated, smiling toward his partner. "Yeah we called him. He's all backed up."

I began to light my cigarette. "Well then I want my phone call."

"You can stick your phone call up your ass," demanded the other cop impatiently.

"Hey, I got my rights."

Before I could even inhale the smoke, the cigarette was knocked from my hand, Manning leaning in uncomfortably close as he said to me in an eerily calm manner, "you ain't got nothing. You understand me? You ain't got shit until you start talking. Now we got four bodies on the fucking slab out there. You were caught at the murder scene with a gun that you'd recently fired. And you seem to think this is all some sort of joke but let me tell you something. We ain't laughing dickhead. You really think that we got you in here because we don't know that you killed someone tonight?"

"If you seem to know so much then why don't you charge me asshole?"

"I'll charge you when I'm ready," Manning told me, sitting back down in his seat. "And believe me, you will be charged and you will get the death sentence. Unless of course, you're willing to cut a deal?"

"What kind of deal?"

"It's the best deal someone in your shoes can hope for, believe me. We can have your sentence lowered to life in prison. All you have to do is stand up in court and point the finger at everyone you've ever worked with and every cop whose ever taken a bribe."

I wasn't smiling anymore. "I ain't no fucking rat."

"Yes you are," Manning said. "Rats spread disease and infection and that's what you are. An infection. I've watched cocksuckers like you bleed this city dry for years. Well now I want you all behind bars where you belong. You think you're a funny guy but you ain't going to feel so funny in the gas chamber. I get your kind in here all hours of the day. They sit there, where you're sitting right now and they just love to tell jokes. Insult the way I dress, the way I talk. It's all bullshit of course. They're just hiding their guilt and their insecurities."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"Yeah," he said. "You are. You probably think you're been real smart while you're at it too, but you ain't." He opens the file but there's a sharp knock at the door. It opens up, the distant sound of telephones and conversation flooding my ears. A skinny female who must have been in her late forties beckoned for Manning to speak with her. "Think over what I said, Carlo. You're only to get one chance."

He left the room, leaving me with his partner. I removed another cigarette and lit it. The whole time I'm staring at the floor, my heart beating so hard I thought it might break open my chest. I'm sitting there with that grim look across my face. I've got this ocean of sweat across my forehead. I'm using every ounce of control I've got not to vomit all over the floor. I'm itching all over. I'm ready to explode. And then the door opens. Manning walks back in, laughing, victorious.

"Carlo Ralieri," he says. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney."

"What the fuck is this?" I screamed.

"If you cannot afford an attorney," he continued. "One will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

The smug bastard was loving it. His partner had me in cuffs and I'm struggling not to be dragged away. I had to know. I just had to. "What the fuck is going on?"

"You're friend confessed. He gave us everything. Dates, addresses, names. Everything. He's going to stand up in court and put the entire five families away for life. In other words," he said winking. "Kansas is bye-bye dickhead."

Whoa. Freeze frame a second. He confessed? I couldn't believe it. My best friend. The one guy I trusted with my life. I'm in here protecting our thing and he's in there singing a god damned chorus. How the fuck could this happen? What kind of deal could they have dangled in front of his face that would make him turn his back on me? I don't care if they promised him thirty virgins and a cottage in the fucking country. You don't rat on your friends. It's like an unwritten rule. You just don't do it.

I wanted to murder him, to beat him senseless, to strangle the last breath out of his body. I'd kill every cop in this building just to get to him. I couldn't go back to jail. I just couldn't. Do you know what they do to you in there? Fuck that and fuck him. I used to be the biggest name in this town. I had people who'd die to protect me. Now? Now it was just me, handcuffed and alone, except for the two cops whose day I'd just made. How did it get to this? I suppose, looking back, it all started with my dad. It was always about my dad, even as a kid. I guess I'd better start at the beginning.