Thin Line

by Anthony Whyte

  “Good. Now that you are telling the truth, we can finally start getting some real answers.” The detective said, seating himself across from me. His shoulders lowered and his eyes pierced mine. It was as if we were the only ones in the room. He became almost romantic in his tone. “Tell me something, Shareef, has your stepfather planned on going to the police?”

  “Yes,” I answered. I thought to myself that these cops should know that since my mother was taking him in for questioning today. Did Stanley mention what he might be saying to the police? What kind of information would he be sharing?

  “I’m not sure what you are asking me.”

  The detective seemed to become agitated all over again and asked, “Is he cooperating with the investigation?”

  “No he did not want anything to do with the police.”

  Why would cops be asking me this? I broke the eye contact between the detective and myself and looked down at the table. In the reflection of the mirrored effect caused by the shiny metal surface, I saw the ring. The same ring Stanley and Mr. Mozi had. This was not an investigation, but rather an effort to find out what’s going to happen to them. This ring must mean something. These guys must be involved.

  “Are you sure, kid? Are you telling the truth?”

  “Yes, I am telling the truth.”

  “Alright kid, I’m going to let you out of here. We can keep this little talk between us private. Remember we could have arrested you for breaking and entering, along with trespassing.

  “Understood,” I said.

  I just wanted to get out before any other surprise found me, but it was just not supposed to be that way.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Is my mother here?” I asked.

  There were no immediate answers, but I was sure that it was the voice of my mother coming to my rescue. Or perhaps I was just imagining things? I could feel a headache growing when the idea that I could have imagined hearing my mother’s voice hit me. I sat back in the chair. Then I heard the voice again.

  “Shareef, Shareef, Shareef...”

  I felt warmth oozing through my body. I was alive again. I could finally hear my mother’s comforting voice.

  “Where is my son?” she asked.

  “Mom, I’m in here,” I immediately answered.

  Hope had returned and I waited, but the door didn’t pop wide open. Disappointment carved me like I was a well-done turkey ready for Thanksgiving meal. I held my breath, scared to even think of going out there. They could say I was trying to escape and could easily shoot me. The voices grew louder and I had to be sure one of them was my mother’s. I carefully wrapped my hands around the knob so it wouldn’t squeak and slowly pulled the door opened. Forcing one eye shut, I spied down the hallway. I couldn’t see much, but I could hear the voices clearer.

  “Where’s my son? His father left me a message that he was not at school. I shouldn’t expect any better from him—he never lives up to his responsibilities. Just wait until I see him.” I could hear my mother’s voice coming through loud and clear.

  Elated, I jumped into the hallway and shouted, “Mom I’m right here!”

  There was no answer. I did not see anyone. Was I going crazy? I felt sick, my heart dropped. Desperately I took off and started searching the hallways.

  “What’re you doing here?”

  I heard the voice and whirled to see a police officer staring me down. I quickly glanced around to see where the others were. There were none. It was just I, and the officer standing before me. I quickly thought of an answer.

  “I, uh… wanted to use the bathroom,” I lied.

  He looked me up and down before he said, “There is one at that end of the hall.” He pointed in the other direction.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said then turned to go.

  “Hey kid, I’ll go with you. You’re gonna need the code for the door.”

  My heart froze for a second. I was trying to get away from these police and now this man in uniform wanted to walk me to the bathroom.

  “Oh, I don’t need to use the bathroom anymore…”

  “It’s not a problem, kid. I’m not in a hurry, and besides police officers aren’t mean people. What—are you in school?”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “What’re you—like ten years old or something like that?”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “The guns aren’t scaring you, right? You’ve seen a real gun before, haven’t you?”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “Where did you see real guns? Your friends have real guns?”

  “No, his mother has real guns. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

  The question hung in the air. The officer fumbled for an answer as I ran in the arms of my mother. I was going to be all right.

  “I found him wandering the hallway. He told me he was looking for the bathroom, lieutenant. I was just escorting him there so I could open the door for him. I mean I could have brought him…”

  “Everything is under control at this point, officer. Thank you,” the lieutenant said.

  “You take care, kid,” the officer said as he walked away.

  I was holding my mother’s hand real tight. I glanced up at her face and I could tell from the look in her eyes she was really getting angry.

  “Lieutenant Mullins, you’re the desk officer can you tell me what has been happening to my son?” My mother asked. She was wearing a badge around her neck and held onto it as she spoke. “I mean if my son was arrested, why wasn’t I informed? And if so, just what was he arrested for? I don’t understand. Can I see the pedigree sheet please…? You know what—forget about it. Just give me a minute and let me talk to my son.”

  “You can use the office on the other end of the hallway,” the lieutenant said.

  “Okay, thank you,” my mother said. She turned to me. “Let’s go in the office so I can find out what’s going on, Shareef.”

  The suggestion seemed harmless enough but it suddenly stirred up a feeling of dread for me. My feet were reluctant to move forward.

  “Shareef, what’s the matter with you? Both you and that man I call my husband have already caused enough problems for one day. Now you’re going inside this office and we’re going to talk about your little problem and being arrested.”

  It was plain to me that my mother was getting angrier with me by the second. Still clutching her hand, I apprehensively walked down the hallway. I knew I was in a lot of trouble, but at least my mother was here next to me.

  I was now being forced to remember what had happened all over again. As my mind spiraled through the day thinking about the fight in the lunchroom, my subsequent arrest and my father getting beaten up and being arrested, all my hopes plummeted.

  Standing outside the door, I braced myself for the worst. My mother opened the door and it dawned on me that getting out of this mess was not going to be a cakewalk.

  “Sit over there, Mister man,” she ordered.

  I glanced at the desk in the corner with the chair of torture waiting for me. I didn’t want to go back through the grueling ritual even though my mother was now in charge.

  “Mom, do I have to sit over there? I could stand right here, can’t I?” I asked nervously.

  “Yes, sit right over there, and do not start with your questions. I’m doing all the questioning around here, okay. You got that, Shareef?”

  With her finger pointing punitively at me, I knew that my mother was not about to take any slack from me. I had waited anxiously to leave this place, now my mother forcefully brought me back. Nothing was going right up to this point. I had miscalculated what my mother’s reaction would be.

  Unwillingly, I walked to the desk under the scrutiny of my mother’s glare searing through my back. It was pressure time and I began to think of how it all started. My thoughts were blocked by a stubborn mind that would not let me think of anything but the present situation. I sat down and awaited my mother’s questions.

  “Shareef, I read the police arrest
report. You cut school? Trespassed at a crime scene? What is going on with you?”

  “Mom, it wasn’t…”

  “Don’t you appreciate what I’m doing for you? I have a job. First your stepdad is arrested for smuggling drugs and now you’re arrested at the same time. What am I supposed to do? Your father doesn’t support us, and I have got to do this alone it is getting too stressful for me—”

  I looked at my mother and saw the tears streaming down her face. I wanted to hug her but she turned her back and walked away. I waited listening to her heavy breathing. She unfolded a sheet of paper and read it for a few seconds then she gazed at me.

  “I’m sorry, mommy. I never meant to cause any trouble.”

  “Then what is it then, Shareef?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

  “I don’t know, mom.”

  “You don’t know? Now that’s a great answer, mister man. As a matter of fact that’s a fantastic answer. You know you’re never ever going to play a second of video game until you’re eighteen? You know that don’t you?”

  It seemed like my whole world had fell apart. “You know, Shareef, you’re always blaming someone else.”

  That was it. My life was over. Eighteen, I thought. That was too long. She had to be kidding. Yes, she was only doing what the detectives were trying to do. My mother was trying to scare me. I guess that was better than going to jail.

  “Mom, I’m not going to lie to you.”

  “Why didn’t your father come for you?” she asked.

  “He did, mom. He came here when those detectives were questioning me. We were right here in this office.”

  “Shareef, are you for real? When was your father here?”

  “Hours ago and they had him arrested.”

  “Are you making this up? I mean you’re in enough trouble already. Don’t push your luck,” she said, wagging her finger at me.

  “I swear, mom, I am telling the truth. Dad came and he was mad the two detectives had me here alone. He got real mad and started yelling then…”

  “Wait a minute, Shareef. Your father was here?”

  “I swear…”

  “And he was arrested by two detectives who were questioning you?”

  “Yeah, that’s what happened.”

  “I don’t get this. Why would detectives question you, and about what?”

  “They came and got me from the other place.”

  “What other place are you talking about, Shareef?”

  “Mom when they brought me here, they took off the handcuffs and made me fill out a questionnaire about what happened, then they made me sign the form.”

  “You did what?” My mother’s face reddened with anger. She glared at me. “What were those detectives questioning you about, Shareef? I want the truth, Shareef.”

  “Mommy, listen I didn’t tell them anything. They wanted to know about the parties that I uh… attended at uh, you know…”

  “No, I don’t know, Shareef.”

  “They wanted me to tell them who I had seen at the parties and asked me if you and uh…”

  “Those bastards!”

  My mother’s scream scared me. For a minute, I thought I was in a heap of trouble again. I felt like urinating. I wanted to ask her to leave the room and use the bathroom, but couldn’t bring myself to ask. She was obviously very angry and I did not want her anger coming back at me.

  “The detectives kept asking and asking, but I said nothing. They showed me pictures of all these men and I just kept my mouth shut.”

  “Those rotten bastards will not get away with this! Shareef, stay here and I’ll be right back. I need to go have a chat with the lieutenant at the desk.”

  Mother slammed the door and walked out, leaving me sitting at the dreaded desk to wonder what she was about to do.

  CHAPTER 11

  I was feeling relieved that my mother’s anger was now directed toward someone other than myself. She had a rough day. I had been arrested my father and stepfather were also arrested. Everything seemed to have gone wrong for her. I jumped when I heard her voice sounding angry and loud. I got up and walked to the door. Carefully, I tried strained to peek at what was going on.

  “I don’t give a damn. You’re a lieutenant at the desk and you know that if a minor is arrested you have to make every effort to contact the parents or guardian of the child. You don’t give permission to anyone to question the child. You’re a female lieutenant, for heaven’s sake! Do you have a child?”

  “Look, you’ve got to understand—I had no control. I came to the desk and saw the pedigree sheet filled out. I thought the arresting officers had your son in their custody. I didn’t know he was being questioned. I don’t have that on any official records. I don’t know—maybe your son is making up a story. You know, kids do embellish. They’re just like adults. They’ll do or say anything to get out of trouble.”

  That was not the truth and I had to do something to let my mother know. I ran out the door to where both my mother and the officer stood. They turned and stared wide-eyed at me.

  “I didn’t make it up, mommy! Two detectives they had me in that office right there,” I said and pointed at the dreaded office door.

  “Young man…” the police officer started, but I quickly interrupted.

  “Yes, two detectives came and took me in there and showed me pictures and asked me to identify these men. They asked me about my mother and one of them said that he was your good friend, mommy. I trusted them. Then they kept me in there and my father came in and they beat him up and…and locked him up. One detective said he was interfering with official business. And they charged him with resisting arrest.”

  “How long were you inside the office with the detectives, Shareef?”

  “It was like two or three hours.”

  I was not sure anymore. The more I thought about it, the more things melded all together like one big nightmare. The day had left an unforgettable imprint on my mind. Events wound into a tighter knot in my brain.

  The look of anguish on my mother’s face put a question in my conscience. Did she believe or not? She seemed tormented by doubts. Law enforcement was her career. I know my mother wanted to believe the lieutenant but then I heard her asked the question that removed all doubts.

  “You had my son here and knew that these detectives were illegally questioning and you did nothing to stop it?” mother asked.

  The officer standing next to her gazed at me then things started getting better for me as I heard my mother started barking orders.

  “I’m going to file some complaints. I want to know the names of the detectives involved. I want to speak to the arresting officers and I want a copy of the pedigree sheet they filed after they arrested my son. I also want to see the complaint against my son that warranted his arrest and I want all this right now, lieutenant!”

  “Calm down…”

  “What do you mean, ‘calm down’?”

  “Look officer, hear me out. Moments ago you asked me if I’ve got children. I raised three boys and a girl right here in this city. One night I got a telephone call saying that my youngest boy had been arrested for possession of controlled substance. I had to get out of bed and go get my son out of lockup. The arresting officer found him hanging with a group of teens that had been loud and drinking. The officers searched everyone and found a bag of weed on my son. The next day I had to go back to work and show my face to all my colleagues.”

  “What’s your point?” mother asked.

  “I empathize with what you’re going through and I know about embarrassment on the job. The career you’ve chosen is one that calls for your objectivity in all circumstances. Detectives may have been out of line. But take it on the chin and tomorrow will be a better day for you. Fussing with them over that situation may be a big mistake.”

  “How could you say that would be a big mistake? They had my child secluded, and interrogated on things they had no right talking to him about, even if I was standing right next to him. And now
you’re telling me to calm down. You should be ashamed to call yourself a mother.”

  “I’m only doing my job.”

  “Lieutenant, do your job by getting me all the information that I requested, alright? That is your job right now.”

  “Look, you don’t have to make this into something it isn’t. The police department is made up of people, and people do make mistakes sometimes. You should understand.”

  “Look lieutenant, if you don’t get me everything that I have requested pronto, I’m going above your head to get it. So you best get to stepping, lieutenant.”

  “Please listen to me and do not make this mistake,” the lieutenant said, pleading with my mother, and for an eternity she considered it. I could see her mind going over her choices.

  “Lieutenant, please do as I asked,” my mother quietly said.

  She looked completely composed and the quiet assertive energy she exuded made me strong. I felt happy that she was my mother and I knew that she had to make a difficult decision. She had chosen family over career.

  I recognized it but could not fully comprehend what it took to make such a decision. One way or another, my mother was set to take a loss.

  I stood watching as she carefully checked the logbooks on the desk. Once she slipped her badge around her neck, not only her posture but also her entire appearance changed, she became determined.

  Wrong or right, she had to prove something had gone awry. I watched as she read each and every syllable, examining sheet after sheet of paper. Then she walked over to where I stood with my breath coming in gasps.

  “Did you sign any papers when you were arrested?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Is this one of them?” I nodded again.

  “Did you write everything on this paper?” she asked, shoving the paper in my face. “Please read it carefully, Shareef.”

  She walked away to a copy machine and ran copies of the other paper she was carrying. I slowly and methodically read the one she had left in my hand. It contained some of the things that I had said and some that I had not. I would warn mother about this discrepancy.

  The stench of this place was getting to me, but when mother walked back to me I felt safer. She took the sheet and came closer so she could stare into my eyes. She must have seen something.