you do about it?”
“I said it occurs to everyone. I didn’t say they were innocent. In most cases, they’re guilty of more than what came out at their trials.”
“But most of them didn’t have trials,” said Maggie, who had started to research the criminal justice system and been shocked by what she had found. “Did you know—” she started to say, but Valerie cut her off.
“I know, I know. And if you kiss them, they turn into princes.”
“Maybe someone should kiss them then.”
“They’re guilty,” said Valerie. “Hand on heart. I wouldn’t lie.”
“But isn’t believing you without question the same thing as believing the inmates without question? Or believing…well, believing anything without looking into it for yourself?”
“That’s a little too close to the deep end for me,” said Valerie. “My motto is to keep it simple. Besides, the police don’t go around arresting people willy-nilly. Someone would have to be awful unlucky to end up here if he was innocent.”
“Yes,” said Maggie. “Someone would.”
Maggie thought of luck as a giant primordial atom that had fractured the day God made the world, unleashing particles of good and bad luck into the atmosphere where they could rain down at random, and now it occurred to her that she was sitting at a desk on the outside of the bars rather than wasting away inside of them not because she was inherently more virtuous than other people, but because she was luckier.
“Do you know why they arrested me?” asked Tomás when Maggie saw him in class the next Wednesday.
“Why no, I don’t,” replied Maggie.
“Because I ran from the police.”
“What were you running for?”
“To get away from them.”
“But why? If you hadn’t done anything, why didn’t you just say so?”
“Because…” Again Tomás peered at Maggie as if she could read his mind.
“And why did you plead guilty if you were innocent?”
“I had to plead guilty. If I didn’t, I might have gotten life.”
3.5 Lyle
I t was Lyle’s belief that bombs prevented bloodshed, and now that Will was backing him up, he felt more sure of it than ever. “I know that sounds like a contradiction,” he said to a co-worker named Jimmy Sweets, “but if you think about it…” His voice trailed off, not because the explanation was hard to find, but because it was obvious. If anyone would know what he was talking about, it was Jimmy, who had been a fighter pilot in Vietnam.
“We pretty much proved that in nineteen forty-five,” said Jimmy. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a long scar. “Christmas in Hanoi,” he said.
When some metal filings flew off a carelessly operated lathe and embedded themselves in Lyle’s left biceps, he thought of it as a war wound. “I have shrapnel in my arm,” he would say after a beer or two at the Merry Maid, which is where some of the men hung out in the evenings and where Lyle had started to go with Jimmy whenever Maggie worked late or when he wanted to get away from the creeping suspicion that he and Maggie were growing apart and that the new arrangement had left him without a necessary piece of equipment, like a leg.
Jimmy and Lyle thought alike about a lot of things. “What would happen if they turned around to reload their guns, and presto! the ammo was gone,” said Jimmy. “Just frigging gone. That’s what we do. We replenish the ammo pile.”
A Merry Maid regular named Lily De Luca pushed her prom queen hair back over her shoulder to expose the fullness of her pink sweater and said, “Heck, people can convince themselves of all kinds of things.”
Lily worked as a bookkeeper at McKnight’s Chicken Farm, and despite the tight pink sweater and her breathy renditions of “Desperado,” she thought of herself as one of the guys.
“We’re not convincing ourselves, Lily,” said Jimmy.
“Become convinced, then,” said Lily. “People can become convinced.”
“We didn’t become convinced. You make it sound
“I said it occurs to everyone. I didn’t say they were innocent. In most cases, they’re guilty of more than what came out at their trials.”
“But most of them didn’t have trials,” said Maggie, who had started to research the criminal justice system and been shocked by what she had found. “Did you know—” she started to say, but Valerie cut her off.
“I know, I know. And if you kiss them, they turn into princes.”
“Maybe someone should kiss them then.”
“They’re guilty,” said Valerie. “Hand on heart. I wouldn’t lie.”
“But isn’t believing you without question the same thing as believing the inmates without question? Or believing…well, believing anything without looking into it for yourself?”
“That’s a little too close to the deep end for me,” said Valerie. “My motto is to keep it simple. Besides, the police don’t go around arresting people willy-nilly. Someone would have to be awful unlucky to end up here if he was innocent.”
“Yes,” said Maggie. “Someone would.”
Maggie thought of luck as a giant primordial atom that had fractured the day God made the world, unleashing particles of good and bad luck into the atmosphere where they could rain down at random, and now it occurred to her that she was sitting at a desk on the outside of the bars rather than wasting away inside of them not because she was inherently more virtuous than other people, but because she was luckier.
“Do you know why they arrested me?” asked Tomás when Maggie saw him in class the next Wednesday.
“Why no, I don’t,” replied Maggie.
“Because I ran from the police.”
“What were you running for?”
“To get away from them.”
“But why? If you hadn’t done anything, why didn’t you just say so?”
“Because…” Again Tomás peered at Maggie as if she could read his mind.
“And why did you plead guilty if you were innocent?”
“I had to plead guilty. If I didn’t, I might have gotten life.”
3.5 Lyle
I t was Lyle’s belief that bombs prevented bloodshed, and now that Will was backing him up, he felt more sure of it than ever. “I know that sounds like a contradiction,” he said to a co-worker named Jimmy Sweets, “but if you think about it…” His voice trailed off, not because the explanation was hard to find, but because it was obvious. If anyone would know what he was talking about, it was Jimmy, who had been a fighter pilot in Vietnam.
“We pretty much proved that in nineteen forty-five,” said Jimmy. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a long scar. “Christmas in Hanoi,” he said.
When some metal filings flew off a carelessly operated lathe and embedded themselves in Lyle’s left biceps, he thought of it as a war wound. “I have shrapnel in my arm,” he would say after a beer or two at the Merry Maid, which is where some of the men hung out in the evenings and where Lyle had started to go with Jimmy whenever Maggie worked late or when he wanted to get away from the creeping suspicion that he and Maggie were growing apart and that the new arrangement had left him without a necessary piece of equipment, like a leg.
Jimmy and Lyle thought alike about a lot of things. “What would happen if they turned around to reload their guns, and presto! the ammo was gone,” said Jimmy. “Just frigging gone. That’s what we do. We replenish the ammo pile.”
A Merry Maid regular named Lily De Luca pushed her prom queen hair back over her shoulder to expose the fullness of her pink sweater and said, “Heck, people can convince themselves of all kinds of things.”
Lily worked as a bookkeeper at McKnight’s Chicken Farm, and despite the tight pink sweater and her breathy renditions of “Desperado,” she thought of herself as one of the guys.
“We’re not convincing ourselves, Lily,” said Jimmy.
“Become convinced, then,” said Lily. “People can become convinced.”
“We didn’t become convinced. You make it sound
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