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This was the most involvement I’d ever had with the police and it was wearing on me. But like any system you learn shortcuts; you get used to working with people and rules you don’t really understand. I’d been interrogated for four hours after the action-hero showed up on my street in what was practically the middle of the night.

At least the police station was air conditioned.

In my life I’d seen enough TV to get the idea that the police who were questioning me thought I knew this guy. The interrogation had started off simply enough with them asking me to come in and make a statement. Then it was ‘good cop, bad cop’, and now they were trying a subtle form of torture.

I’d been given a bottle of water. Then another. And another. Soon I’d drank several bottles and was in desperate need of a urinal. I’d even settle for a tree in a secluded spot out back. All the bottles save for the last one had been cleared away as I finished them. The bottle I had left would not be enough to hold the flood I felt building up in my bladder.

I could understand they needed to investigate and confirm that I wasn’t involved with this psycho. I got it, really, but was it necessary to treat me like this? I’m a citizen; a taxpayer even! I’ve never been in trouble in my life and now I’m being treated like a criminal!

My whole body felt like it was buzzing with the need now. I got up and knocked on the mirrored glass, then moved to stand in front of the door. I glanced down at my watch. Thirty seconds passed; I put my hand on the door handle and tried to turn it. It wouldn’t budge. If the door was locked though, didn’t that mean I was under arrest? I glanced around looking for a call button or anything that might get their attention.

Other than the table and chairs, the room was just as empty as it had been the last eighteen times I’d looked at it. This time I banged on the door, adding a kick I hoped would get someone’s attention. Another minute had passed with no response. I decided to wait a little bit longer and then I was going to use the water bottle to relieve myself.

I turned away from the door resolved to fill up the bottle  and more when the door finally opened.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, but we’re kind of busy tonight” This was another detective, one I hadn’t seen yet.

I pressed forward before he could close the door only to have him step in front of me. “I need the bathroom. Badly.” I was trying to remain polite, but the need to relieve myself was now overwhelming.

The detective closed the door with a smile and took a seat, gesturing for me to sit as well.

“I said I need to use your restroom. . .”

“Sure, sure. Just give me a minute and we’ll get you to the bathroom. Have a seat please.”  he said indicating the vacant seat across the table.

“Am I under arrest?” I asked. It came out sharp since I  was putting all my mental effort into not wetting myself.

“No, you’re not under arrest. We just . . . ”

I put my hand on the door handle and tried to turn it again. Still locked. “Please open the door. I’m happy to answer any of your questions, but I have to use the bathroom first.”

The detective turned in his seat making no attempt to stand. “Sir, please. If you’d just cooperate with us. . .”

It was like talking to a wall. I scoffed and turned my back to the detective. As I unzipped my fly and let loose,I said over my shoulder to the still seated detective “I’d like to see a lawyer please.”


I was surprised to find out that sometimes the system works very quickly indeed. At least I’d like to think that it does. More likely the lawyer I’d asked for was already on premises looking after another client.

After a brief meeting with her–even though the police assured me I was not being arrested–I was finally released. All I wanted to do now was go back to my little shitbox of a house and sleep for ten hours or so.

I knew I’d have to call off work for another day and for some reason the thought made me smile. “Work can suck a whole bowl of dicks.” I muttered to myself in the back of the unmarked police cruiser that was taking me home.

“What’s that?” The detective, yet another new face, one that hadn’t been part of my interrogation asked over his shoulder.

“I said work can suck a whole bowl of dicks.”

The detective smiled and nodded “That’s for sure. Amen, brother.” he chuckled a bit and continued to stare straight ahead. “So I missed it. What brought you down to the station tonight?”

“Some psycho killed a policeman at the end of my street. I came in because I’d seen him earlier.”

“No shit?” I saw the detectives eyebrows raised inquiringly in the rear view mirror. “He a neighbor of yours?”

I shook my head “Before today I’d never seen him in my life.”

“So you saw him twice today?  Was he just hanging around your neighborhood–like a street person? Or what?”

“I saw him this morning–yesterday morning, now–on the bus to work.”

“No shit? And he killed a cop the same night on your street, huh?”

“Yes sir. In front of about a hundred people and a few other police officers.”

The detective chortled this time “What, police officer’s aren’t people?” He turned his head slightly toward me and flashed a smile my way. “So what did he do when you first saw him?”

“This morning?” I asked and the detective nodded.

“He was killing people on the bus.” I said and stared out the window as the detective went silent.


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