nicotine.
I’ve heard motormouths on the radio and on the barstool next to me complain that the insanity plea is one of the things that’s wrong with this country—that we let rapists and killers get away with murder by letting them hide out at “country clubs” like Hatch. Well, guess again, folks. I’ve been there. Walked out with the stink of the place still on my clothes and my brother’s screaming still in my ears.
If there’s a hell worse than Hatch Forensic Institute, then God must be one vengeful motherfucker.
The cruiser’s blue lights winked on and off. The cop who was driving us stopped at Hatch’s front gate and handed a guard some paperwork. “It was a sacrifice !” Thomas kept shouting. “It was a sacrifice !”
I turned around and told him to take it easy—that I’d get the whole thing straightened out and get him back to Settle that night.
But I only half-believed that myself. The steel grid between the front and back seats of the cruiser—between my brother and me—was beginning to feel like a preview of coming attractions.
There was a whirring sound. The gate glided open and clunked to a stop, and the cruiser eased past, over a speed bump, and around the building. We came to a halt at a double door marked “Patients Receiving—Unit Two.” A red light above the door flashed. We sat and waited with the motor running.
“What law did I break?” my brother blurted out. “Who did I hurt?”
The answer to the last question was as obvious as the bandaged stump on the end of his arm, but how did that make him a criminal?
I Know[001-115] 7/24/02 12:21 PM Page 70
70
WALLY LAMB
It had to be a mistake, I told myself. It made no sense. But as I sat there staring ahead at those double doors, that winking light, I felt a yank in my chest—one of those fight-or-flight rushes. “Hey,” I said, turning to the cop next to me. “What’s your name?”
The question surprised him. “My name? Mercado. Sergeant Mercado.”
“All right, look, Mercado. Just do me a favor, will you? Just bring him over to the Settle Building for five minutes. I know the night people there. They can call his doctor and get this sorted out. Because this whole thing is a big mistake.”
“You’re tampering with an agreement between God and me!”
Thomas warned. “The Lord God Almighty has commanded me to prevent an unholy war!”
Mercado looked straight ahead. “No can do,” the cop in back answered for him. “They’d have our ass in a sling if we ignored signed orders.”
“No, they won’t,” I said. I turned around to look at the guy. His face and Thomas’s were crisscrossed by that metal screen that divided us.
“They’ll be glad that you straightened out the mix-up before any shit hit the fan. They’ll be grateful. ”
“I run the news rack at Settle!” Thomas pleaded. “I run the coffee cart!”
“Hey, I can sympathize with you,” Mercado told me. “I got brothers myself. But the thing is, we can’t just—”
“No, don’t!” I said, interrupting him. I was wired, pumped on sheer desperation. “Just think about it for a second before you let some knee-jerk police response come out of your mouth. All I’m asking you to do is be a human being instead of a cop for five minutes, okay? All I’m asking is that you throw this thing in reverse and drive—what?—one-sixteenth of a mile over to Settle. You don’t even have to leave the hospital grounds, Mercado. One-sixteenth of a mile, man. Five minutes, tops. That’s all I’m asking.”
Mercado looked in the rearview mirror. “What do you think, Al?
We could just—”
“Uh-uh,” from the backseat. “No way, José. No can do.”
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I KNOW THIS MUCH IS TRUE
71
“Then you get up tomorrow morning at five-thirty and start the coffee!” Thomas shouted. “ You make sure there’s enough change in the change box and that nobody buys Mrs. Semel’s Drake’s cakes.
You make sure
I’ve heard motormouths on the radio and on the barstool next to me complain that the insanity plea is one of the things that’s wrong with this country—that we let rapists and killers get away with murder by letting them hide out at “country clubs” like Hatch. Well, guess again, folks. I’ve been there. Walked out with the stink of the place still on my clothes and my brother’s screaming still in my ears.
If there’s a hell worse than Hatch Forensic Institute, then God must be one vengeful motherfucker.
The cruiser’s blue lights winked on and off. The cop who was driving us stopped at Hatch’s front gate and handed a guard some paperwork. “It was a sacrifice !” Thomas kept shouting. “It was a sacrifice !”
I turned around and told him to take it easy—that I’d get the whole thing straightened out and get him back to Settle that night.
But I only half-believed that myself. The steel grid between the front and back seats of the cruiser—between my brother and me—was beginning to feel like a preview of coming attractions.
There was a whirring sound. The gate glided open and clunked to a stop, and the cruiser eased past, over a speed bump, and around the building. We came to a halt at a double door marked “Patients Receiving—Unit Two.” A red light above the door flashed. We sat and waited with the motor running.
“What law did I break?” my brother blurted out. “Who did I hurt?”
The answer to the last question was as obvious as the bandaged stump on the end of his arm, but how did that make him a criminal?
I Know[001-115] 7/24/02 12:21 PM Page 70
70
WALLY LAMB
It had to be a mistake, I told myself. It made no sense. But as I sat there staring ahead at those double doors, that winking light, I felt a yank in my chest—one of those fight-or-flight rushes. “Hey,” I said, turning to the cop next to me. “What’s your name?”
The question surprised him. “My name? Mercado. Sergeant Mercado.”
“All right, look, Mercado. Just do me a favor, will you? Just bring him over to the Settle Building for five minutes. I know the night people there. They can call his doctor and get this sorted out. Because this whole thing is a big mistake.”
“You’re tampering with an agreement between God and me!”
Thomas warned. “The Lord God Almighty has commanded me to prevent an unholy war!”
Mercado looked straight ahead. “No can do,” the cop in back answered for him. “They’d have our ass in a sling if we ignored signed orders.”
“No, they won’t,” I said. I turned around to look at the guy. His face and Thomas’s were crisscrossed by that metal screen that divided us.
“They’ll be glad that you straightened out the mix-up before any shit hit the fan. They’ll be grateful. ”
“I run the news rack at Settle!” Thomas pleaded. “I run the coffee cart!”
“Hey, I can sympathize with you,” Mercado told me. “I got brothers myself. But the thing is, we can’t just—”
“No, don’t!” I said, interrupting him. I was wired, pumped on sheer desperation. “Just think about it for a second before you let some knee-jerk police response come out of your mouth. All I’m asking you to do is be a human being instead of a cop for five minutes, okay? All I’m asking is that you throw this thing in reverse and drive—what?—one-sixteenth of a mile over to Settle. You don’t even have to leave the hospital grounds, Mercado. One-sixteenth of a mile, man. Five minutes, tops. That’s all I’m asking.”
Mercado looked in the rearview mirror. “What do you think, Al?
We could just—”
“Uh-uh,” from the backseat. “No way, José. No can do.”
I Know[001-115] 7/24/02 12:21 PM Page 71
I KNOW THIS MUCH IS TRUE
71
“Then you get up tomorrow morning at five-thirty and start the coffee!” Thomas shouted. “ You make sure there’s enough change in the change box and that nobody buys Mrs. Semel’s Drake’s cakes.
You make sure
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