I was taken to the police station, where my fingerprints were taken before I was booked. I kept asking why had I been taken there, but no one gave a damned answer. Then, they took me to a cell where I would have to wait for being questioned
-You're making a mistake bringing me here! Let me at least one phone call, please...I think I've got right to it...
-You watch too many movies, kid. No phone calls until tomorrow. And sure, we've made a huge mistake. We know... that's what all of you say. But evidences talk for themselves, and they don't lie like you do.
-I'm not lying! Why don't you listen? And what evidences?
-Enough! My patience is about to reach her limits...Shut up! You'll have time enough to talk tomorrow. And let's see if you're so talkative by then.
I lay on a kind of bench hat there was on the cell , and tried to sleep for a while. It was an useless effort...I just kept thinking how much my life had changed in no more than twelve hours. The day before, my only worry was having some kind of trouble with this or that teacher, or quarreling with Jan, or things like that. And now, I had been booked, falsely accused of murder and who knows with what kind if evidence against me. How on earth would I defend myself?
Then I realized suddenly. My jacket. That was what they had to prove I had killed Debbie. Whoever had taken it, he was the real killer. Yeah, that sounded logic, but surely those cops wouldn't believe a word when I say someone had stolen it. Who, and why, could have done such a thing? Had it been deliberate, or was it just pure bad luck?
No one came until next morning, I guess they expected I would be scared enough as to tell them what they wanted to hear. But , as much frightened and tired as I was, how the hell would I admit something I hadn't done?
-You, come with me. An inspector will talk to you now.
I was taken to a small room, and told to wait. A while later, two inspectors came in. One was about fifty, and had a really serious look. The other, much younger, would be in his early thirties.
-Well..-The older cop had a quick glance at his folder-Roger, right? I guess you will know by now why are you here.
-Yeah, but I've already said, it's a mistake...
-Listen, kid, don't make us lose our time ok? We have your jacket, identified as yours by a witness, dirty with the girl's blood. We have your pocket knife with your fingerprints and also with Debbie's blood on it. So, help us and help yourself, and tell the truth.
I went suddenly pale...had completely forgotten about the knife...Things were getting harder by the moment.
-I was in detention, and before going home I had to leave an essay at one of the teachers's office. He wasn't there, so I slipped the essay under the door. When I went back to detention class, my jacket wasn't there. I took a look all around, didn't find it and went home. That's all.
-Right. So, some mysterious guy steals your jacket with your knife in it and then uses it to kill one of your fellow students. Try again with something more believable, kid. Or even better, with plain and simple truth. We have all the day to hear it.
-I'm telling the truth! Why don't you believe me?
-Did you know this girl? What reason did you have to...?
-I barely knew her...and I'm telling you, I didn't kill her! Why don't you believe me?
-Ok...we've tried by hook, but if you don't help, it will have to be by crook- th older cop took his bludgeon out.
About ten minutes later, I was taken again to the cell...My back was hurting as hell because of the beating...
Jan
I waited for maybe one hour before admitting Putzie wouldn't come. I was really angry at him, how on earth had he stood me up that way? He would have to give a good explanation next Monday, and oif course it would take him before I even think of forgiving him. I thought of calling him to know why the hell he hadn't come, but anyway...if someone had to phone, it was him. And I wasn't sure at all of wanting to talk to him.
On Sunday, my parents wanted all of us- they, me , and my bro Steve- to go seeing our grandparents, so we spent the whole day out of town. Maybe it was better like that...by then, everyone would know about me being stood up on Saturday night and I didn't feel like hearing stupid jokes about it or even worse, having fake solidarity from anyone. There would be enough of both on Monday, anyway... We arrived home about nine, had a quick dinner and I went to bed.